diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62464-0.txt | 3107 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62464-0.zip | bin | 64111 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62464-h.zip | bin | 143673 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62464-h/62464-h.htm | 3185 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62464-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 74343 -> 0 bytes |
8 files changed, 17 insertions, 6292 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3b3feca --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #62464 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62464) diff --git a/old/62464-0.txt b/old/62464-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7548cb6..0000000 --- a/old/62464-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3107 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prodigals and their Inheritance; vol. 1, by -Mrs. Margaret Oliphant - -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/license - - -Title: The Prodigals and their Inheritance; vol. 1 - -Author: Mrs. Margaret Oliphant - -Release Date: June 24, 2020 [EBook #62464] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRODIGALS VOL. 1 *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - THE PRODIGALS - - MORRISON AND GIBB, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. - - - - - THE PRODIGALS - - _AND THEIR INHERITANCE_ - - BY - - MRS. OLIPHANT - - AUTHOR OF - “CHRONICLES OF CARLINGFORD” “THE WIZARD’S SON” - ETC. ETC. - - - IN TWO VOLUMES - - VOL. I - - - Methuen & Co. - 36 ESSEX STREET, LONDON, W.C. - 1894 - - - - - THE PRODIGALS - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -“Is it to-night he is coming, Winnie?” - -“Yes, father. I have sent the dog-cart to the station.” - -“It was unnecessary, quite unnecessary. What has he to do with dog-carts -or any luxury? He should have been left to find his way as best he -could. It is not many dog-carts he will find waiting at his beck and -call. That sort of indulgence, it is only putting nonsense in his head, -and making him think I don’t mean what I say.” - -“But, father”-- - -“Don’t father me. Why don’t you speak like other girls in your -position? You have always been brought up to be a lady; you ought to use -the same words that ladies use. And mind you, Winifred, don’t make any -mistake, I mean what I say. Tom can talk, none better, but he will not -get over me; I have washed my hands of him. So long as I thought these -boys were going to do me credit I spared nothing on them; but now that I -know better--Don’t let him try to get over me, for it is no use.” - -“Oh, papa, he is still so young; he has done nothing very bad, only -foolishness, only what you used to say all young men did.” - -“Things are come to a pretty pass,” said the father, “when girls like -you, who call themselves modest girls, take up the defence of a -blackguard like Tom.” - -“He is not a blackguard,” cried the girl colouring to her hair. - -“You are an authority on the subject, I suppose? But perhaps I know a -little better. He and his brother have taken me in--me, a man that never -was taken in in my life before! but now I wash my hands of them both. -There’s the money for his journey and the letter to Stafford. No--on -second thoughts I’ll not give him the money for his journey; he’d stay -in London and spend it, and then think there was more where that came -from. Write down the office of the Cable Line in Liverpool--he’ll get -his ticket there.” - -“But you’ll see him, papa?” - -“Why should I see him? I know what would happen--you and he together -would fling yourselves at my feet, or some of that nonsense. Yes, you’re -right--on the whole, I think I will see him, and then you’ll know once -for all how little is to be looked for from me.” - -“Oh, papa! you do yourself injustice; your heart is kinder than you -think,” cried Winifred, with tears. - -Mr. Chester got up and walked from one end to the other of the long -room. It was lighted up as if for a great entertainment, though the -father and daughter were alone in it. He drew aside the curtains at the -farther end and looked out into the night. - -“Raining,” he said. “He would have liked a fly from the station much -better than the dog-cart. These puppies with their spoiled -constitutions, they can’t support a shower. I am kinder than I think, am -I? Don’t let Tom presume on that. If I’m better than I think myself, I’m -a deal worse than you think me. And he’s cut me to the heart, he’s cut -me to the heart!” This was said with a little vehemence which looked -like feeling. He resumed, a few minutes after: “What a fine thing it -seemed for a man like me, that began in a small way, to have two sons to -be educated with the best, just as good as dukes, that would know how to -make a figure in the world and do me credit. Credit! two broken-down -young profligates, two cads that have never held up their heads, never -made friends, never done anything but spend money all their lives! What -have I done that this should happen to me? Your mother was but a poor -creature, and her family no great things; but that my boys, my sons, -should take after the Robinsons and not after me! Hold your tongue and -let me speak. It should be a warning to you whom you marry; for, mind -you, it’s not only your husband he’ll be, but the father of your -children, taking after him, perhaps, to wring your heart.” He had been -walking about the room all this time, growing more and more vehement. -Now he flung himself heavily into his chair. “Yes,” he said, “it will be -better that I should see him. He’ll know then, once for all, how much he -has to expect from me.” - -“Papa,” cried Winifred, drying her eyes, “if my mother had lived”-- - -“If she had lived!” he said, with a tone in which it was difficult to -distinguish whether regret or contempt most predominated. Perhaps it was -because he was taken by surprise that there was any conflict of feeling. -“We should have had some fine scenes in that case,” he added, with a -laugh. “She would have stuck to the boys through thick and thin; and -perhaps you would have been more on my side, Winnie; they say the girls -go with their father. True enough, you are the only one that takes after -me.” - -“Oh, papa! George is the image of you.” - -He got up again from his chair as if stung by some intolerable touch. - -“Hold your tongue, child!” he said hoarsely; then, seating himself with -a forced laugh, “Kin in face, sworn enemies in everything else,” he -said. - -The room in which this conversation went on was large but not lofty, -occupying the whole width of the house, which was an old country house -of the composite character, so usual in England, where generation after -generation adds and remodels to its fancy. It had been two rooms -according to the natural construction of the house, and the separation -between the two was marked by two pillars, one at either side, of -marble, which had been brought from some ruinous Italian palace, and -were as much out of place as could be conceived in their present -situation. The room, in general, bore the same contradictory character; -florid ornament and gilt work of the most _baroque_ character -alternating with articles of the latest fashion, and with pieces of -antiquity such as have become the test of taste in recent years. Mr. -Chester preferred cost above all other qualifications in the decoration -of his house, and his magnificence was bought dearly at the expense not -only of much money, but of every rule of harmony. He did not himself -mind this. It need scarcely be added that he was not the natural -proprietor of the manor-house which he had thus made gorgeous. He was a -man of great ambition who had made his fortune in trade, and whom the -desire, so universal and often so tragically foolish, though so natural, -of founding a family, had seized in a somewhat unusual way. His two sons -had received “the best education”; that is, they had been sent to a -public school and afterwards to Oxford in the most approved way. They -had not been used to much literature nor to a very refined atmosphere -at home, and it is possible that the very ordinary blood of the -Robinsons, their mother’s family, had more influence in their -constitutions than that fluid which their father thought of so much more -excellent quality, which came to them from the Chester fountain. - -The Chesters had been pushing men for at least two generations. From the -fact that their name was the same as that of their native place, it was -uncharitably reported that Mr. Chester’s grandfather had been a -foundling picked up in the streets. But as he figured in the pedigree -which hung in the hall as George Chester, Esq., of the Cloisters, -Chester, strangers at least had no right to lend an ear to any such -tale, nor to inquire whether, as report said, it was as a lay clerk that -he had found a place in that venerable locality. William Chester, the -link between this mythical personage and Mr. Chester of Bedloe Manor, -had begun the family fortunes in Liverpool half a century before, and -his son, whose education was that of a choir boy in Chester Cathedral, -as his father’s had been, established upon that foundation a solid and, -indeed, large fortune, which he had fondly hoped by means of George and -Tom to hand down to a whole prosperous family of Chesters, transformed -into landowners, great proprietors, perhaps--who could tell?--Lord -Chancellors and Prime Ministers. The disappointment which comes upon -such a man when his children, instead of doing him honour, turn out the -proverbial spendthrifts and consumers of the newly-made fortune, does -not meet with any great degree of sympathy in the world. A tacit “serve -him right” is in the minds of most people. Much righteous indignation -has been expended upon a very different matter, upon the ambition even -of such a man as Scott to found a family: the moralist has been almost -glad that it came to nothing, that the children of the great man were -nobodies, that his hope was a mere dream. And how much more when the man -had, like George Chester, nothing but his money and a certain strenuous -determination and force of character to recommend him! - -But the disappointment was not less bitter to the new man than if he had -been a monarch mourning over a degenerate son. Neither George nor Tom -did anything but get into scrapes at the University. They had no heads -for books, and they had the habit of rash expenditure, of -self-indulgence, of considering themselves masters of everything that -could be bought. Mr. Chester would have taken their extravagance in -perfectly good part, he would have winked at their peccadilloes and -forgiven everything had they done him credit as he said: nor was he -very particular as to the nature of the credit; had either manifested -any capacity for taking university prizes, or a good degree, that, -though he would have understood it little, would have delighted him. Had -they rowed in the eight or played in the eleven, he would have been -doubly proud of the distinction. Failing those legitimate paths to -honour, had they brought a rabble of the young aristocracy to Bedloe, -had they gone visiting to great houses, had they found a place even -among the train of any young duke or conspicuous person, he was so -easily pleased that he would have been content. But they did none of -these things. George, with the beautiful voice, of which his father was -not proud, since it awakened memories of hereditary talent which he did -not wish to keep before men’s minds, had not used this gift as a way of -making entrance into select circles, but roared it out in undergraduate -parties made up of clergymen’s sons, of young schoolmasters, of people, -as he said bitterly, no better, nay, not so good as himself; and made -friends with the lower class of the musical people, the lay clerks at -the Cathedral, the people who gave local concerts. He was quite ready to -join them, to sing with them, to take his pleasure among them, with a -return to all the old habits of the singing men at Chester, which was -bitterness to the father’s soul. It scarcely made it any worse that -George fell into ways of dissipation and went wrong as well. _That_ his -father, perhaps, might have forgiven him had it been done in better -company; but as it was, the sin was unpardonable. When news came to -Bedloe that George was about to marry a poor organist’s daughter, the -proceedings Mr. Chester took were very summary; he stopped his son’s -allowance instantly, provided him with a clerkship at Sydney, and sent -him off to the end of the world, requesting only that he might see him -no more. - -Then Tom became his hope. Tom had aspirations higher than George’s, but -he went, if possible, more hopelessly astray. Tom had, or seemed to -have, something more of fancy and imagination than belonged to the rest -of his family. He was the clever one, bound, or so at least his father -hoped, to make a figure in the world; but he was idle, he was sarcastic -and hot-tempered, he quarrelled with everybody whom he ought to have -conciliated, and supported the company only of those who flattered and -agreed with him, and helped him to gratify his various tastes and -inclinations, which were not virtuous. If George had fallen among the -lower class of professionals, Tom’s company was, his father declared, -composed of the out-scourings of the earth. And when the inevitable -moment came in which Tom was plucked (or ploughed, as the word varies), -his father’s bitter disappointment and disgust came to the same result -as in his brother’s case. The civil letter in which his tutor lamented -Tom’s foolishness exasperated Mr. Chester almost to madness. No doubt he -had bragged in his day of his two boys who were to carry all before -them, and his humiliation was all the more hard to bear. He was -uncompromising and remorseless in the revenge he took. According to his -code, he who failed was the most criminal of mankind. Whatever a man -might do, so long as he attained something, if it were no more than -notoriety, there were hopes of him; but failure was insupportable to the -man of business--the self-made, and self-sustaining. - -It was with a pang that he gave up the idea of all possibility as -regarded his sons; but he did so with the same decision and promptitude -with which he would have rejected a bad investment. He had still a -child, who was, indeed, one of the inferior sex, a mere girl, not for a -moment to be considered in the same light as a son, had the sons been -worthy, but something to fall back upon when they failed. Winifred, so -long as the boys were in the foreground of their father’s life, had cost -him little trouble. She had been so fortunate as to be provided with a -good governess when her mother died; and, unnoticed, unthought of, had -grown up into fair and graceful womanhood--in mind and manners the child -of the poor gentlewoman who had trained her, and who still remained in -the house as her companion and friend. Insensibly it had become apparent -to Mr. Chester that Winnie was the one member of his family who was not -a failure. The society around, the people whom he reverenced as county -people, but despised as not so rich as himself, received her with -genuine regard and friendship, even when they received himself with but -formal civility. As for George and Tom, not even their prospective -wealth during their time of favour had commended them to the county -neighbours, whose pride Mr. Chester cursed, yet regarded with -superstitious admiration. Winifred had broken through the stiffness of -these exclusive circles, but no one else; and even while he fumed over -the downfall of Tom, he had begun to console himself with the success of -Winnie. At the recent county ball she had been, if not the beauty, at -least the favourite of the evening. Lord Eden himself had complimented -her father upon her looks. He had tasted the sweetness of social success -for the first time by her means. All was not then lost. He condemned -Tom, as he had condemned George, by attainder and confiscation of all -his rights; and Winifred was elected to the post of heir and -representative of the Chesters. Perhaps the decision gave the father -himself a pang. It was coming down in the world. A man with his sons -about him has something of which to be glorious--but a mere girl! At the -best it was a humiliation. But in default of anything better it was -still a mode of triumph, after all. It secured his revenge upon the -worthless boys who had done nothing for his name, and a place among -those who recognised in Winnie, if not in any other member of the -family, their equal in one way, their superior in another. - -He was a man of rapid conclusions, and he had made up his mind on this -point on the evening of the day on which he had heard of Tom’s -disgrace--for disgrace he had felt it to be, accepting no consolation -from the fact that many young men not thereafter to be despised met -with the same fate. He would not allow his son to return home, but had -his fate intimated to him at once by the solicitor whom Mr. Chester -chose to employ in business of this sort. It was to New Zealand this -time that the unfortunate was to be sent. His passage-money and fifty -pounds, and a desk in an office when he reached his destination--this -was the fate of the unhappy youth, fresh from all indulgences and -follies. No hope even was held out to him of ever retrieving his lost -position; and Tom knew with what remorseless decision George had already -been cut off. Perhaps he had not lamented as he might have done his -brother’s punishment, which left such admirable prospects to himself, -but it left no doubt on his mind as to his own fate. He had asked, what -George had not had the courage to ask, that he might come home and take -farewell of his sister, at least. And this had been granted to him. If -any forlorn hope was in his mind of being able to touch the heart of his -father, it was a very forlorn hope indeed, and one which he scarcely -ventured to whisper even to himself. - -He had arrived at the country station which was nearest Bedloe while his -father and sister were talking of him, and had been received by the -groom with that somewhat ostentatious sympathy and regard for his -comfort with which servants are wont to show a consciousness of the -situation. The groom was very anxious that Mr. Tom should be protected -from the rain, the soft, continuous drizzle of a spring night. “I’ve -brought your waterproof, sir; the roads is heavy, and we’ll be a long -time getting home”-- - -“Never mind the waterproof,” said Tom; “I like the rain.” - -“It’s cooling, sir; but after a while, when you’re soaked through--if -you get a chill, sir?” - -“It don’t matter much,” said Tom. “How are they all at home?” - -“Pretty nicely,” said the man, “though Mrs. Pierce do say that she don’t -like master’s looks, and Miss Winifred is that pale except when she -flushes up”-- - -“How’s Bayleaf?” This was Tom’s hunter which he never mounted, yet felt -a certain property in all the same. - -“Nothing to brag of, sir. That poor animal, he’s like a Christian. He -knows as well when there’s something up”-- - -“You had better drive on,” said Tom. “How dark it is!” - -“It’s all the rain, sir, like as if the skies themselves--But we’re glad -as the equinoctials is over, and you’ll have a good season for your -voyage. Shall you see Mr. George, sir, where you are going?” - -At this Tom laughed, with a most unmirthful outburst. “No,” he said; -“that’s the fun of the thing--he in one country and I in another. It’s -all very nicely settled for us.” - -“Let’s hope, sir,” said the man, “that when things get a little more -civilised there will be a railway or something. We should all like to -send our respects and duty to Mr. George.” - -To this Tom made no reply. He was not in a very cheerful mood, nor did -this conversation tend to elevate his spirits. There was nothing -adventurous in his disposition. The distant voyage, the new world, the -banishment from all those haunts in which he could find his favourite -enjoyments, with an occasional compunction, indeed, but nothing strong -enough to disturb the tenor of his way, were terrible anticipations to -him. Some lurking hope there was still in his mind that his fate was -impossible; that such a catastrophe could not really be about to happen; -that his father would relent at the sight of him or at Winnie’s prayers. -It did not enter into Tom’s thoughts that Winnie would ever forsake him. -The thought of her own advantage would not move her. He was aware that, -in the question of George, it had more or less moved himself, and that -he had not, perhaps, thrown all that energy into his intercession for -his brother which he hoped and believed Winnie would employ for himself. -But then he had feared to irritate his father, who would bear more from -Winnie than from any one. At this moment, while he drove shivering -through the rain,--shivering with nervous depression rather than with -cold, for the evening was mild enough,--he had no doubt that she was -doing her best for him. And was it possible that his father could hold -out, that he could see the last of his sons go away to the ends of the -earth without emotion? The very groom was sorry for him, Bayleaf was -drooping in sympathy, the skies themselves weeping over his fate. When -the fate is our own, it is wonderful how natural it seems that heaven -and earth should be moved for us. In George’s case he had seen the other -side of the question. In his own the pity of it was far the most -powerful. His mind was almost overwhelmed by the prospect before him, -but as he drove along in the rain, with the groom’s compassionate voice -by his side in the dark, expressing now and then a respectful and veiled -sympathy, there flickered before Tom’s eyes a faint little light of -hope. Surely, surely, this, though it had happened to his brother, could -not happen to him? Surely the father’s heart was not hard enough, or -fate terrible enough, to inflict such a punishment upon _him_? Others, -perhaps, might deserve it, might be able to bear it; but he--how could -he bear it? Tom said to himself that in his case it was impossible, and -could not be. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -In family troubles such as that which we have indicated, it is generally -a woman who is the chief sufferer. She stands between the conflicting -parties, and, whether she is mother or sister, suffers for both, unable -to soften judgment on one hand, or to reduce rebellion on the other; or -else securing a ground of reconciliation by entreaties and tears which -she would not use on her own behalf, and often by the sacrifice of her -own reason and power of judging, and conscious humiliation to all the -imbecilities of peace-making. A woman in such circumstances has to -pledge herself for reformations in which, alas! her heart has but -little faith. She has to persuade the angry father that his son has -erred less than appears, to invent a thousand excuses, to exhaust -herself in palliation of offences which are far more offensive and -terrible to her than to him whose wrath she deprecates; and she has to -convince the impatient and resentful son that his father is acting -rather in love than in anger, and that his sins have wounded as much as -they have exasperated. Those women who have no judgment of their own to -exercise, and who can believe everything, are the happiest in this -ever-returning necessity: and indeed in many complications of life it is -much better for all parties that the woman should be without judgment, -the soft and boneless angel of conventional romance. Winifred Chester -was not of this kind. She was a just and tender-hearted woman, full of -affection and compassion, to whom nature gave the hard task of -mediating between two parties whose conflicting errors she was, alas! -but too well able to estimate--the father, whose indignation and rage -were in fact sufficiently just, yet so little righteous, and her -brothers, of whom she knew that they neither felt any real compunction -nor intended any amendment. There is, let us hope, some special -indulgence for those luckless advocates of erring men who have to -promise amendment which they can put no faith in, and plead excuses -which to their own minds have no validity. - -After the conversation which had been held in the great drawing-room, -when Mr. Chester settled himself to a study of the evening papers which -had just been brought in, Winifred left the room softly, and stole -upstairs to the window of her brother’s room, which commanded the -avenue, and from which she could see his approach. The room was faintly -lit with firelight and full of all the luxurious contrivances for -comfort to which a rich man’s sons are accustomed. Poor Tom! what would -he do without them all, without the means of procuring them? Poor -George! what was he doing, he who now had some years’ experience of work -and poverty? She stole behind the drawn curtains and looked out upon the -darkness and the falling rain. There was little light in the wild -landscape, and no sound but that of the rain pattering upon the thick -ivy which clothed the older part of the house, and streaming silently -down upon the trees, which were still bare, though swelling at every -point with the sap of spring. The air was soft and warm; the rain and -the darkness full of a wild sense of fertility and growth. Winifred’s -imagination depicted to her only too clearly the state of half-despair, -yet unconviction, in which her brother’s mind would be. He would not -believe it was possible, and yet he would know. He was very well aware -that his father was remorseless, yet he would not be able to understand -how ruin could overtake _him_. The circumstances brought back before her -vividly the other occasion on which she had implored in vain the -reversal of the sentence on her elder brother. George, too, had been -taken by surprise. He had not believed it, and when at last he was -convinced, had burst forth into wild defiance and consuming wrath. But -Tom would probably be less simple, and not manly at all: he would never -believe that all was over, that it was not possible to make another and -another appeal. - -Winifred stood and watched for his coming, feeling that if by any will -of hers she could bring about an accident, either to delay her brother’s -arrival, or even to bring him into the house in a condition which would -compel a prolonged stay, she would have done it. Tom would have -arrived, it is to be feared, with a broken leg, or the beginnings of a -fever, could his sister have procured it or he would not have come at -all. Railway accidents occur in many cases when they do harm without -doing any good, but a railway accident which should awake some natural -movement in her father’s mind, which should perhaps make him anxious, -which would force him to exert himself on Tom’s behalf--what an -advantage that would be! Alas! such things do not come when people wish -for them. A broken arm or leg, what a small price to pay for the moral -advantages of reawakened interest, anxiety, the softening charm of an -illness and convalescence! No father could turn out of his house the -wounded boy who was brought home to be cured. - -But Winifred’s wishes, it need not be said, were quite unavailing. By -and by she heard the steady tread of the horse, the roll of the wheels -over those little heaps of gravel with which the avenue was being -mended. Evidently Tom was coming, without any interposition of -Providence, to his fate. She ran softly down the stairs to meet him and -prevent any unnecessary sound or attempt to usher the returning prodigal -into his father’s presence. The door was open, the waterproof of the -groom glistening in the light, and Tom scrambling down from the dog-cart -with that drenched and dejected look which is the result of a long drive -through steady and persistent rain. He scarcely looked at the butler as -he stepped past, saying, “Is my father in?” in a voice as despondent as -his appearance, and not pausing to listen as the man began to explain-- - -“Master is at home, sir, but”-- - -“Tom! Oh, how wet you are! You must run upstairs and change first of -all.” - -“I shall do nothing of the kind. I suppose there is a fire somewhere,” -said Tom. “Where are you sitting? in the dining-room? No supper for me. -I don’t want any supper. To arrive like this is calculated to give a -fellow an appetite, don’t you think?” - -Winifred put her arm through her brother’s, wet though he was. She -whispered, “Don’t say anything before the servants,” as she led him -towards the open door of the room in which the table was laid for him -before the shining fire. Tom was mollified by the second glance at its -comfort and brightness. - -“It looks warm here,” he said, suffering her to guide him. “Though why I -should mind warm or cold I don’t know. Look here, Winnie. There is this -interview with the governor; I’d better get it over, don’t you think?” - -“Oh, Tom, come in and get warmed and eat something.” - -“Is it going to be very bad, then?” the young man said. - -“I think,” said Winifred anxiously, “you had much better change those -wet clothes; your room is ready.” - -“Look here!” he cried; “all that about New Zealand, that’s all nonsense, -of course?” He watched the changes of her countenance as he spoke. - -Winifred shook her head. “Oh, Tom, I told you long ago you must never -take what my father says as nonsense. He is not that sort of man. Come -to the fire, then, if you will not change your clothes. And here is -Hopkins coming with the tray. Don’t say anything before Hopkins, Tom.” - -“Why shouldn’t I? If he means that, they’ll know soon enough. I don’t -believe he means it. The governor--the governor”--Tom’s voice died away -in his throat, partly because it trembled, partly because of Hopkins’ -presence. “Yes, yes, that’ll do,” he said fretfully, as the butler -placed a chair for him, and stood waiting. “I don’t want anything to -eat, thank you. I’ll have a drink if you like. The governor,” he -resumed, with a sort of laugh, as Hopkins, knowing the nature of the -drink required, went off to fetch it, “would never repeat himself, -Winnie. He is not such a duffer as that. All very well once perhaps; but -to send George to Sydney and me to New Zealand--oh, that’s too much of a -good thing! I can’t believe he means it. Thank you, that’s more to the -purpose,” he added, as he took a large fizzing glass out of Hopkins’ -hand. - -“You need not wait. We have everything my brother will want,” said -Winifred. “Oh, Tom, what can I say to you? You know how my father had -set his heart on your success--success anyhow, he did not mind what -kind.” - -“Well, well,” said Tom sulkily; “you women are always harping on what is -past. I know very well I have been an ass. But there is no such dreadful -harm done after all. I’m not fifty, if you come to that, and this time -I’ll work, I really will, and get through.” - -Winifred said no more for the moment. She persuaded him to seat himself -at the table, to fortify himself with food. “We can talk it all over -when you have had your supper. There is plenty of time; and what a -wretched journey you must have had, Tom!” - -“Wretched enough, but nothing so bad as the drive from the station, with -the rain pouring down upon one, and that fellow Short pitying one all -the way. Talk of not speaking before the servants--he knew as well as I -did I was in disgrace with the governor, and was sorry for me--my own -groom! Why didn’t you let me get a fly from the station? It would have -been twenty times more comfortable.” - -“That is what my father said,” said Winifred, with a smile. - -“Oh, he thought of that, did he? The governor has a great deal of -sense,” said Tom, brightening a little. “He understands a fellow better -than you can. I don’t say anything against you, Win; you are always as -good as you know how.” - -Winifred looked at her brother with a tremulous smile of wonder and -pity. Nothing could be more forlorn than his appearance; the steam -rising from his wet coat, his hair limp on his forehead, his colourless -face more eloquent of anxiety and suspense than his words were. He -swallowed with difficulty the dainty food, the dish he specially liked, -and pushed his chair from the table with relief. - -“Am I to see him to-night?” he said. “If it’s got to be, the sooner the -better. It will be a thing well over.” - -“Tom,”--Winifred’s voice faltered, she could hardly say what she had to -say,--“I am afraid it is all a great deal worse than you think. He did -not want to see you at all, and if he has consented at last, it is -chiefly because he thinks you will then be convinced how little you have -to expect.” - -Tom’s countenance fell, and then he made an effort to recover himself, -and laughed. “Nobody ever was so hard as the governor looks,” he said; -“he wants to frighten me, I know that.” - -He looked anxiously in her eyes, and Winifred’s eyes were not -encouraging. Her brother broke out again with a stifled oath. “You can’t -mean me to suppose that that about New Zealand is true, Winnie? You -don’t mean that?” - -“Dear Tom!” Winifred said, with tears in her eyes. - -“Don’t dear Tom me! That’s not natural, you don’t mean it. Good heavens! -I’d sooner you were taking your fun out of me, if it was a moment for -that. I won’t go! I’m not a child to be ordered about like that. I tell -you I won’t go!” - -“Oh, Tom! if you could but do anything at home; if you would but let him -see that you could manage for yourself! That might be of some use, if -you could do it, Tom.” - -“I won’t go,” he repeated hoarsely, “to the other end of the world, away -from everything I care for! There is a limit to everything. You can tell -him I won’t do that. And all for what? For having been unlucky about my -books, as half the men in the university have been one time or the -other. What does it matter being ploughed? It happens every day. -Winnie, I swear to you I’ll work like--like a navvy, if I can only have -another chance.” - -“Oh, Tom, I have said everything, I have tried every way. I think if you -were to do as you said just now, say to him that you won’t go to New -Zealand, that you can manage for yourself at home, that would be your -best chance. Show him that you can maintain yourself, do something, -write something, it does not matter what it is”-- - -“Maintain myself?” said Tom. He had left his seat, and was standing in -front of the fire, his pale face and dishevelled, damp hair showing -against the black marble of the mantelpiece; his eyes had a bewildered -and discomfited look. “Do something? It is so easy to talk. What am I to -do? Write? I am not one of the fellows that can write. I have never been -used to that sort of thing. I say, Winnie, for God’s sake speak to my -father! I can’t, I can’t go to that dreadful place.” - -“Oh, Tom!” she cried, turning her head away. - -To see him standing there, helpless, feeble, sure only of one thing, and -that that he himself was good for nothing, was like a sword in this -young woman’s heart. It is the most horrible of all the tortures that -women have to bear, to see the men belonging to them, whom they would so -fain look up to, breaking down into ruinous failure. He gave her a -distracted look, and when she withdrew her eyes, went and plucked her by -the sleeve. “Winnie, for Heaven’s sake tell my father! It’s all dreadful -to me: I can’t work in an office; I can’t go a long voyage. I hate the -sea, I am not strong, not a man that can rough it and knock about. -George was different, he was always that sort of fellow; and then he’s -married. Winnie, speak for me. You can do it if you like.” - -“I have done nothing else ever since he told me, Tom, and I dare not say -any more. He will not listen, he says he will send me away too. I -shouldn’t care for that if I could help you, but I can’t--I can’t. It is -almost worse for me, for I can do nothing--nothing!” - -“Oh no,” said Tom; “don’t make believe, Winnie. Worse for you?--Why, -what does it matter to you? While I am out at sea, perhaps in danger of -my life, you’ll be snug at home, with everything that heart can desire. -And who is he going to leave his money to, if he casts me off? You? Oh, -I see it all now! Why should you speak for me? It’s against your own -interests. I see it all now.” - -She could only look at him with an appeal for pity in her eyes. She -could not protest that her own interests were little in her mind. There -are some things which it is impossible to say, as it ought to be -needless to say them. Tom for his part worked himself up to an outburst -of miserable, artificial rage which it is to be supposed was a relief to -his excitement. - -“Oh, it is you that are to be his heir?” he cried. “A girl! I might have -known. No wonder you don’t speak up for me, when it’s all in your own -favour. I’m to be cut off, and George is to be cut off, all for you! Oh, -I might have known! A girl is always at home, wriggling and wriggling -into favour, cutting out the lawful heirs. And what does he think he’s -going to make of you, that haven’t even a name of your own, that are no -more good for the family than a stranger? George wasn’t enough, I might -have had the sense to see that--there was me that had to be got rid of -too, and now you’ve done it; now you have succeeded. Yes, yes! and this -is Winnie!” he cried in a burst of despairing rage. “Winnie! I thought -Winnie was my friend whoever failed me; and all this time you were -plotting to get rid of me too!” - -Tom had been advancing towards her, gesticulating with fury, his hand -raised, his blood-shot eyes gleaming, when the door opened suddenly. In -a moment he fell back, his hand dropped by his side, the look as of a -beaten hound came into his eyes. Mr. Chester had come in, and set his -back against the door. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -They were little, and he was tall; they were slight of form, and he was -massive and big--a vigorous man with a great “wind of going” about him, -like one who could push through every difficulty, and make his way. He -stood against the door, and looked at them; a man who felt more life in -him than was in both put together, to whom they were nobodies, -insignificant creatures whom he could make or unmake at his pleasure. He -looked at his son with contempt unmixed with pity. He was not touched by -Tom’s miserable looks, his air of hopeless dejection, or furtive, -trembling hope. And for the moment Winifred’s want of size and -importance struck him more than the fact which had been forced upon him, -that she had done him credit. He despised them both, the products of a -smaller race than his own, taking after their mother, like the -Robinsons. The Chesters were a better race in point of thews and sinews, -though nobody knew very well from what illegitimate source these sinews -came. - -“Look here!” he said; “I don’t permit you to bully your sister. What’s -she done to you? She has always stood up for you a deal more than you -deserve. If I let you come here at all, it was because she insisted upon -it. I never could see what was the use of it, for my part.” - -Tom’s rage had been subdued in a moment. He was supposed to be a being -of small will, unable to restrain himself; but he was capable of an -effort of the will when it was necessary, as most people are. He looked -at his father with a piteous desire to conciliate and touch his heart. -“I thought,” he said, “papa,--I hope you’ll forgive me,--that I had a -right to come here.” - -“Don’t call me papa, sir. I like _her_ to do it, since others do it; but -when do you ever find a man with such a word in his mouth? Not that I -have to learn for the first time to-day that you are no man, and nothing -manlike is to be expected from you. No, I don’t see what right you have -here. If it had been your great-grandfather’s house, as many people -think, you might have had a certain right; but it’s my house, bought -with my money--and I have washed my hands of you.” He had been a little -vehement at first, but now was perfectly calm, delivering his sentences -with his hands in his pockets, looking down contemptuously upon his -son. - -“I know, sir, that you have a right to be angry”--Tom began. - -“I am not angry. I don’t care enough about it. So long as there was some -hope of you, I might be angry, but now that you’ve gone and made a fool -of me--the rich man that tried to make a gentleman of his son!--I might -as well have tried to make a gentleman of Winnie. As soon as I -understand it, that’s enough, and I’ve learned my lesson, thank you. You -are no good, and I have washed my hands of you.” - -“Father, I know I have been an ass. You can’t say more to me than I have -said to myself. And I’ve learned my lesson too. Give me another chance, -and I’ll do all you wish,” he cried, holding up his hands, almost -falling on his knees. - -“Come, I’m not going to have a scene out of the theatre,” said Mr. -Chester roughly. “I’ve given you all you have a right to ask of me--a -start in the world. When I was your age, fifty pounds in my pocket would -have seemed a fortune to me. And if you like,--there’s no better field -for a young man than New Zealand,--you may come home in twenty years -with as many thousands as you have pounds to take with you, or hundreds -of thousands if you have luck. The only thing is to exert yourself. -You’d thank me for the chance if you had any spirit. That’s all, I -think, there is to say. Winnie will tell you the rest. Cable Line, -Liverpool--I’ve taken you a first-class cabin, though on principle I -should have sent you in the steerage. Good luck to you, my boy! Work and -you’ll do well. Winnie will tell you the rest.” - -“Father, you are not going to throw me overboard like this?” cried the -miserable young man, rushing forward as Mr. Chester turned round to open -the door. - -“You are going to the bottom as fast as you can, and I throw you into -the lifeboat, which is a very different matter. You’ll find a decent -salary and an honest way of getting your living on the other side. Only -don’t think any more of Bedloe and that sort of thing. Good-bye. If you -do well, you can send Winnie word; if not”--He gave a shrug of his -shoulders. “Farewell to you, once for all: don’t think I am either to be -coaxed or bullied. What’s done is done, and I make no new beginnings. -Get him up in time once in his life, and let him leave to-morrow by the -first train, Winnie. I shall have to speak to Hopkins if I cannot trust -you.” - -“Let him stay to-morrow. Oh, papa! don’t you see how ill he is -looking--how miserable he is? Let him stay to-morrow; let him get used -to the idea, papa.” - -“I must speak to Hopkins, I see,” Mr. Chester said. “Hopkins, Mr. Tom -is going off to-morrow by the first train--see that he is not late. If -he misses that, he will lose his ship; and if you let him miss it, it -will be the worse for you. That’s enough, I hope. Tom, good-bye.” - -“I can’t--I can’t get ready at a day’s notice. I have got no outfit--I -have nothing”-- - -“All that’s been thought of,” said Mr. Chester, waving his hand. “Winnie -will tell you. Good-bye!” - -He left the brother and sister alone with a light step and a hard heart. -They could hear him whistling to himself as he went away. When Mr. -Chester whistled, the household trembled. The sound convinced Tom more -than anything that had been said. He threw himself down in the great -easy-chair by the fire, and covered his face with his hands. What the -sounds were that misery brought from his convulsed bosom we need not -pause to describe. Sobs or curses, what does it matter? He was in the -lowest deep of wretchedness--wretchedness which he had never believed -in, which had seemed to him impossible. He could not say that it was -impossible any longer, but still it seemed incredible, beyond all powers -of belief. His sister flew to him to comfort him, and wept over him, -notwithstanding the insult he had offered her; and he himself forgot, -which was more wonderful, and clung to her as to his only consolation. -Misery of this kind which has no nobleness in it, but only weakness, -cowardice--compunction in which is no repentance--are of all things in -the world the most terrible to witness. And Winnie loved her brother, -and felt everything that was unworthy in him to the bottom of her heart. - -Next morning he went away with red eyes and a pallid face and quivering -lips. It was all he could do to keep up the ordinary forms of composure -as he crossed the threshold of his father’s house. He was sorry for -himself with an acute and miserable anguish, broken down, without any -higher thought to support him. He never believed it would have come to -this. He could not believe it now, though it had come. He feared the -voyage, the unknown world, the unaccustomed confinement, every thing -that was before him; that he should be no longer the young master, but a -mere clerk; that he should have to work for his living; that all his -little false importance was gone; that he should be presently, he who -could not endure the sea, sick and miserable on a long voyage. All these -details drifted across his mind in the midst of the current of miserable -consciousness that all was over with him, and the impulse of frenzied -resistance that now and then rose in his mind, resistance that meant -nothing, that could make no stand against inexorable fact. - -Winifred stood at the door as long as he was in sight; but the horse was -fresh and went fast, which was a relief. She stood there still with the -fresh damp morning air in her face, after the wheels had ceased to sound -in the avenue. It was a dull morning after the rain, but the air was -full of the sensation of spring, the grass growing visibly, the buds -loosening from their brown husks on the trees, the birds twittering -multitudinous, all full of hope in the outside world, all dismal in that -which was within. Many people envied Winifred Chester--and if her father -carried out his intention, and made her the heir of all his wealth, many -more would envy and many court the young mistress of Bedloe; but Winnie -felt there was scarcely any woman she knew with whom she might not -profitably change places at this moment of her life. There was old Miss -Farrell, sitting serenely among her wools and silks, anxious about -nothing but a new pattern, amusing herself with the recollections of the -past which she recounted to her favourite and best pupil, day after day, -as they sat together. Winifred knew them all, yet was never tired of -these chapters in life. Though Miss Farrell was sixty and Winnie only -twenty-three, she thought she would gladly change places with her -companion--or with the woman at the lodge who had sick children for whom -to work and mend. No one in the world, she thought, had at that moment a -burden so heavy as her own. She was called in after a while to Mr. -Chester’s room, which was a large and well-filled library, though its -books were little touched except by herself. He was seated there as -usual surrounded by local papers,--attending the moment when the _Times_ -should arrive with its more authoritative views,--with many letters and -telegrams on his table; for though he went seldom to business, he still -kept the threads in his hand. He demanded from her an account of Tom’s -departure, listening with an appearance of enjoyment. - -“It is the best thing that could happen to him,” he said, “if there is -anything in him at all. If there isn’t, of course he will go to the -wall--but so he would do anyhow.” - -“Oh, papa! He is your son.” - -“And what of that? He’s no more like me than Hopkins is. You are the -only one that is like me. I have sent for Babington to make another -will.” - -“I do not want your money, papa.” - -“Softly, young woman; nobody is offering it to you. I don’t mean to be -like King Lear. Indeed, for anything I know, I may marry, and put all -your noses out of joint. But in the meantime”-- - -“I will never supplant my brother,” said Winifred. “I will never take -what does not belong to me. I wish you would dispose of it otherwise, -father. It is yours to do what you like with it; but I have a will of my -own too.” - -“That you have,” he said with a smile; “that’s one of the things I like -in you. Not like that cur, that could do nothing but shiver and cringe -and cry.” - -“Tom did not cry,” she exclaimed indignantly. “He did not think you -could have the heart. And how could you have the heart? Your own son! I -ask myself sometimes whether you have any heart at all.” - -“Ask away; you are at liberty to form your own opinion,” he said -good-humouredly. “If that fellow had faced me as you do, now--but mind -you, Winnie, if you go against me, I am not so partial to you but that I -shall take means to have my own way. What I have, nobody in this world -has any right to but myself. I have made it every penny, and I shall -dispose of it as I please. If you think you will be able to do what you -like with it after I am gone, you’re mistaken; take care--there are ways -in which you can displease me now, as much as Tom has done. So you had -better think a little of your own affairs.” - -She looked at him with startled eyes. - -“I don’t wish to displease you, papa--I don’t know”-- - -“Not what I mean perhaps? Remember that the sort of match which might be -good enough for Winnie with two brothers over her head, might not be fit -for Miss Chester of Bedloe. I don’t want to say any more.” - -This silenced Winifred, whatever it might mean. She said no more, but -withdrew hastily, with a paleness and discomfiture which was little -like the grief and indignation with which she entered the room. Her -father looked after her with a chuckle. - -“That has settled her, I hope,” he said to himself. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -Miss Farrell came home next day from her visit. She was a little old -lady of the period when people became old early, and assumed the dress -and the habits of age before it was at all necessary. She was about -sixty, but she had been distinctly an old lady for ten years. She wore a -cap coming close round her face, and tied under her chin. Whenever she -had the least excuse for doing so, she wore a shawl, an article the -putting on of which she considered to afford one of many proofs whether -or not the wearer was “a lady,” which was to Miss Farrell something more -than a mere question of birth. She was very neat, very small, very -light-hearted, seeing the best in everything. Even Mr. Chester, though -she saw as little of him as possible, she was able to talk about as -“your dear father” to her pupil; for, to be sure, whatever might be the -opinion of other people, every father ought to be dear to his own child. -Miss Farrell had gone on living at Bedloe since Winifred’s education was -finished, for no particular reason,--at least, for no reason but love. -She was a person full of prejudices in favour of aristocracy and against -persons of low birth, but she was sufficiently natural to be quite -inconsistent, and contradict herself whenever it pleased her--for, as a -matter of fact, she preferred Winifred Chester, who was of no family at -all, to several young ladies of the caste of Vere de Vere, whom she had -formerly had under her care. How she had managed to “get on” with Mr. -Chester was a problem to many people, and why she could choose to stay -in the house of an individual so little congenial. As a matter of fact, -it was not so difficult as people supposed. She was a woman who -systematically put the best interpretation upon everything, moved -thereto not only by natural inclination, but by profound policy; for it -did not consist with Miss Farrell’s dignity ever to suppose, or to allow -any one to suppose, that it was possible for her to be slighted. She -would permit no possibility of offence to herself. It occasionally -happened that people had bad manners, which was so very much worse for -themselves than for any one else. Miss Farrell had made up her mind from -the beginning of her career never to accept a slight, nor to look upon -herself as a dependant. If offence was so thrust upon her that she could -not refuse to be aware of it, she left the house at once; but on less -serious occasions presented a serene obtuseness, apologising to others -for the peculiarities which were “such a pity,” or the “want of tact” -which was so unfortunate. In this way she had overawed persons more -confident in their own _savoir faire_ than Mr. Chester. She had always -been admirable in her own sphere, and the alarm of an anxious mother who -had obtained such a treasure, lest the peace of the house should be -endangered by the sudden departure of the governess, may be supposed. -Once it had occurred to her in her life to be compelled to take this -strong step. She never required to do it again. As for Winifred, it was -long since the relation of pupil and teacher had been over between them; -but the motherless girl of the _parvenu_, to whom she went with -reluctance, and chiefly out of compassion, had entirely gained the heart -of the proud and tender little woman. She did not hesitate to say that -Winifred was beyond all rules. - -“It does not matter who her father was--I have always thought the mother -must have been a lady,” Miss Farrell said, with a conception of the case -very different from that of the master of the house. “But at all events -Winifred is--born. I never said I insisted upon a number of quarterings. -I don’t care who was her great-grandfather--nothing could be worse than -the father, if you come to that; but she is a lady--as good as the -Queen.” - -“You have made her so,” said the wife of the Rector, who was her -confidante. - -“No one can make a lady, except the Almighty. It is a thing that has to -be born,” was the prompt reply. - -But, notwithstanding, Miss Farrell was able to speak to Winifred about -“your dear father,” and to look upon all the proceedings of the boys -with an indulgence which sometimes almost exasperated their sister, yet -was an unspeakable consolation and support to her in the troubles of -the past years. For to have some one who will not believe any evil, who -will never appear conscious of the existence of anything that needs -concealing, who will know exactly how not to ask too many questions, yet -not to refrain from questions altogether, is, in the midst of family -trouble, a help and comfort unspeakable. Winifred’s mind was full to -overflowing when her friend came back. She had felt that it was almost -impossible to exist without speaking to some one, delivering herself of -the burden that weighed upon her. It had been a relief to have Miss -Farrell away at the moment of Tom’s visit, and to feel that no eye but -her own had looked upon her brother’s discomfiture, but it was a relief -now to meet her frank look and unhesitating question-- - -“Well, my dear, and how about poor Tom?” - -“He is gone,” Winifred said, the tears coming to her eyes. “He is to -sail from Liverpool to-day.” - -“My dear,” said Miss Farrell, “it is very natural for you to feel it, -but do you know it is the very best thing that could have happened for -him? It will no doubt be the making of him. He has never had any need to -rely on himself, he has always felt his father behind him. Now that he -is sent into the world on his own account, it will rouse all his -strength. Yes, cry, my dear, it will do you good. But I approve, for my -part. Your dear father has been very wise. He has done what was the best -for Tom.” - -“Do you think so? Perhaps if that were all--But it does not seem to have -been the best thing for George, and how can we tell if it will answer -with Tom?” - -“George, you see, has married, which brings in a new element--a great -deal more comfortable for him, but still what the gentlemen call a new -factor, you know, that we are not acquainted with. Besides, he is a -different kind of boy. But Tom wants to be thrown on his own resources. -Depend upon it, my dear, it is the very best thing for him. I should -have thought that you would have seen that with your good sense.” - -“Oh, Miss Farrell, if that were all!” - -“And is there something more? Don’t tell me unless you like; but you -know you take a darker view than I do.” - -“There is but one view to take,” Winifred said. “It makes me miserable. -My father--I hope he does not intend it to be known, but I cannot -tell--anyhow you must know everything. My father says he has made up his -mind to cut off both the boys, and to leave everything to me.” - -Miss Farrell grew a little pale. She was old-fashioned and strong upon -the rights of sons and the inferior importance of girls. She paused -before she spoke, and then said, with a little catching of her breath, -“If it is because you are the most worthy, my dear, I can’t say but he -is right. A girl of your age is always more worthy than the boys. You -have never been exposed to any temptation.” - -“But that is no virtue of mine. Think what it is for me--the boys that -were brought up to think everything was theirs--and now cast away, one -after another, and everything fixed upon me.” - -“My dear,” said Miss Farrell, recovering her courage, “you must not -disturb yourself too soon. Your father will live to change the -disposition of his property a hundred times. It is a sort of thing that -only wants a beginning.” - -“But don’t you see,” said Winifred, with great seriousness, “that is -poor comfort; for he may be displeased with me next, and leave it all -to some stranger. And then, who would care for George and Tom?” - -“I see what you mean--you are going to share with them, Winnie. My dear, -you may take my word for it, that will be better for them, far better -than if they got your father’s immense fortune into their hands.” - -“But injustice can never be best,” she said. - -They were in Miss Farrell’s pretty sitting-room, seated together upon -the sofa, and here Winifred, losing courage altogether, threw her arms -round her old friend, and put her head down upon the breast that had -always sympathy for her in all her troubles. - -“I am very unhappy,” she said. “I do not see any end to it. My brothers -both gone and I alone left, and nothing but difficulty before me -wherever I move. How can I tell how my father’s mind may change in other -ways, now that he has made up his mind to put me in this changed -position--and how can I tell--even if that were not so”-- - -These broken expressions would have conveyed little enlightenment to any -stranger, but Miss Farrell understood them well enough. She pressed -Winifred in her arms, and kissed the cheek which was so near her own. - -“Has anything been said about Edward?” she asked in a low tone. - -“Nothing yet; but how can I tell? Oh yes! there was something. I can’t -remember exactly what--only a sort of hint; but enough to show--Miss -Farrell, you always think the best of every one. What can make him do -it? He must love us--a little--I suppose?” - -The doubt in her tone was full of pathos and wondering bewilderment. -Winnie, though she had already many experiences, had not reached the -length of understanding that love itself can sometimes torture. - -“Love you, my dear? why, of course he loves you! Whom has he else to -love? You must not let such foolish thoughts get into your mind. Thank -Heaven, since you were a child you have never had any doubt that I loved -you, Winnie, and yet I often made you do things you didn’t like, and -refused to let you do things you did like. Don’t you remember? Oh, I -could tell you a hundred instances. A man like your dear father, who has -been a great deal in the world, naturally forms his own ideas. And I can -tell you, Winnie, it is very, very difficult when one has the power, and -when one sees that young people are silly, not to take matters into -one’s own hand, and do for them what one knows to be best. But, -unfortunately, one never can get the young people to see it--they prefer -their own way. If they went according to the ideas of their fathers and -mothers, perhaps there would be less trouble in the world.” - -“You don’t really think so,” cried Winnie, indignant. “You would never -have one go against one’s own heart.” - -“I say perhaps, my dear,” said Miss Farrell mildly,--“only perhaps. It -is a thing no one can be arbitrary about. To have one’s own way is the -most satisfactory thing, so long as it lasts, but often ‘thereof comes -in the end perplexity and madness.’ Then one thinks, if one had but -taken the other turn! Nobody knows, till time shows, which is for the -best.” - -“Is that a proverb?” asked Winnie, with some youthful scorn. - -“It sounds a little like it,” said the cheerful old lady, with a little -laugh, “but, the rhyme was quite unintentional; and, as a matter of -fact, we know that whatever happens to us in God’s providence is for the -best.” - -“Is my father’s hardheartedness God’s providence?” said Winifred, her -face becoming almost severe in youthful gravity. - -It was not a question easy to answer. She scarcely listened to the -little lecture Miss Farrell gave, as to the wickedness of condemning her -father, or calling that hardheartedness which probably was the highest -exercise of watchful tenderness. “I don’t know that I should have had -the strength of mind to carry it out; but, my dear,” she said, “I have -not the very slightest doubt that this is by far the best thing for Tom. -He will come home a better man; he will have found out that life is -different from what he thinks. It may be the making of him. Your dear -father, who is stronger-minded than we are, does it, you may be sure, -for the best.” - -“And if I am ordered to give up everything I care for, perhaps you will -think that for the best too,” said the girl, withdrawing, half -sorrowful, half indignant. The elder woman gave her a look full of love -and sorrow. Behind the smiling of her cheerful little countenance there -was that consciousness which belongs to experience, that teaching of a -long life which at her age throws confusing lights upon much that is -plain and simple to the uninstructed. Miss Farrell in her heart answered -this last indignant question in a manner which would have confounded -Winifred; but she said nothing. “Sufficient unto the day is the evil -thereof.” - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -Winifred, it will be divined, was not without affairs of her own, which -were indeed kept in the background by the more urgent complications of -her family life, but yet were always there; and in every moment of -repose came in to fill up with sweetness mingled with pain all the -intervals of her thoughts. A few years before, when Mr. Chester had -retired from business and had come to live permanently at Bedloe, he had -begun his life of ease by a long illness, an illness at once dangerous -and tedious, which he had been “pulled through” by a young doctor, still -quite unknown to fame, who had devoted himself to the case of his -patient with an absorbing attention such as elderly gentlemen of -mercantile connections rarely call forth. Mr. Chester was a man who was -always sensible of services rendered personally to himself, and as young -Dr. Langton gave up both time and ease to him, watched by his bedside at -the crisis of the disease, and never grudged to be called out of bed or -disturbed at any moment of the day or night, it was natural that a -grateful patient should form the highest idea of the man who had saved -his life. - -It did not detract from the merits of the young doctor that he belonged, -though remotely, to a county family, the ancient owners of Bedloe, and -that he held a higher place in the general estimation than the new -millionaire himself, whose advent had not been received with enthusiasm. -Dr. Langton, indeed, was of considerable use to the new-established -household. He decided several important people to call who had no -immediate intention of calling, and described with so much fervour the -sweetness and good manners of the young lady of the house, that the way -had thus been smoothed for that universal acceptance of Winifred which -had opened her father’s eyes to the fact that she alone of all the -family did him credit. Unfortunately, Dr. Langton went a little farther -than this. He was young, and Winifred was but just taking upon her the -independent position of mistress of her father’s house. They saw each -other every day, watched together at the sick-bed, and met in the most -unrestrained intimacy--and the natural result followed. Had Winifred -been poor, all his friends would have protested that she was a very bad -match for Edward Langton, who was believed to have what is called a fine -career before him; but as she was, instead, the daughter of a very rich -man, it was permissible that on her side of the question Edward Langton -should be supposed a very poor match for Winifred. It had been -accordingly with very doubtful feelings and a great screwing up of his -courage that the young doctor had presented himself before the rich man -and asked him for his daughter. The reception he received was less -terrible than he feared, but more embarrassing. Mr. Chester had received -the proposal as a joke, a strange but extremely amusing pleasantry. -“Marry Winnie?” he had said; “you must wait till she is out of long -clothes--or of short frocks, is it?” And this had been the utmost that -could be extracted from him. But, at the same time, he had taken no -steps to discourage or separate the lovers. They had gone on seeing each -other constantly, and had been sufficiently confident that no serious -obstacle was to be placed in their way--but never had been able to -extract a more definite decision or anything that could be called -consent. For some time, in the freshness of their mutual enchantment, -the two young people had gone on very gaily with this imperfect -sanction; but there had then come a time when Edward, impatient, yet not -venturing to risk a definite negative by using pressure upon the father, -had filled Winifred’s life with agitation, urging upon her the claims of -his faithful love, and even now and then proposing to carry her off, and -trust to the chance of pardon afterwards, rather than bear that -tantalising, unnecessary delay. Winifred, with mingled happiness and -distress, had spent many an hour in curbing this impetuosity, and it was -strange to her, a relief, but yet a surprise and wonder, when he -suddenly ceased all instances of the kind, and assumed the aspect of a -man quite satisfied with the present state of affairs, though very -watchful of all that happened, and curious to know the details of -everything. The change in him filled her with surprise, and at first -with a vague uneasiness. But there was no appearance of any failure in -his devotion to herself, and it was in many respects less embarrassing -than the constant entreaties which she had found it so difficult to -resist. Still she would wonder sometimes, accepting, as women so often -accept, the unexplained decision of the men who are most near to them, -with that silent despair of ever understanding the motives of the other -half of humanity which men too so often feel in respect to women. - -As for Miss Farrell, who had seen so much both of men and women, she -divined, or thought she divined, what Dr. Langton meant. But she said -not a word to her pupil of her divinations. She said, “What a good thing -that Edward has made up his mind to it. You never would have given in -to him, Winnie?” - -“Oh, never!” said the girl, with a silent, unexpressed sense that -perhaps it might have been better if she could. - -“No, you never would have done it; it is against your nature, and it -would have been the worst policy. Your dear father is a man of very -strong principles, and he never would have forgiven you. It would have -been quite past all hoping for. It is such a good thing Edward perceives -that at last.” - -Winifred did not receive this explanation with all the satisfaction that -her friend hoped. She felt uneasily the existence of some other with -which she was not acquainted; but so long as there was no doubt of -Edward’s love, what did it matter? And she was not herself impatient. -She saw him every day; she knew (or supposed she knew) all his -thoughts; she had his confidence, his full trust, his unbroken devotion; -what more can a woman want? It is sometimes aggravating in the highest -degree to a man that she should want no more, that she should be content -with relations which stop so far short of his wishes, and Edward had -often expressed this fond exasperation. But now he took it quietly -enough, seeing possibilities which Winifred had not begun to see. - -Now, however, the calm of this unexpected content was interrupted from -the other side. Tom was scarcely gone, shaking off the dust from his -shoes as he crossed for the last time the threshold of his father’s -house, when Winifred learned all that was involved in the disastrous -promotion which had already made her so miserable--not only to supplant -her brothers (which yet it might be possible to turn to their -advantage), but to expose herself to risks which were worse than theirs, -to fall perhaps in her turn and make herself incapable of helping them, -or for their sake to resign all that was to herself best in life. -Winifred had retired from her father’s presence with this sword in her -heart. And Miss Farrell’s consolations, though they soothed her for the -moment, did not draw it out. She felt the pang and quivering anguish -through all her being. It was now her turn: she was about to be called -upon to act the heroic part which is so admirable to hear about, so -terrible to perform: to give up love and life for the sake of family -affection lightly returned, or not returned at all, rewarded with -suspicions and unkindness by those for whom she sacrificed everything. -To give up her love, her husband, for her brothers! She did what those -who are disturbed in mind instinctively learn to do. She went out by -herself into the park, and took a long solitary walk, communing with -herself. She had looked forward to Miss Farrell’s return as to something -which would help and strengthen her. And for the moment that new event, -and all the gentle philosophies that had come from her old friend’s -lips, had helped her a little. But at the end every one must bear his -own burden. She went out into the park, which, though the sun had come -out, was still wet and sodden with last night’s rain. The half-opened -leaves were all sparkling with wet, the sky had that clear and keen -sweetness of light which is like the serenity which comes into a human -face after many tears. The sod was soft and spongy under her feet; but -Winifred was not in a mood to observe anything. She walked fast and far, -carrying her thoughts with her, passing everything in review with the -simplicity and frankness which is impossible when we have to clothe our -thoughts in words. She would not have said, even to herself, that George -and Tom would never understand her motives, never believe in her -affection; but she knew it very well, just as she knew that the grass -was damp and that she was wetting her feet, a consciousness that neither -in one case nor the other meant any blame. She knew, too, that her -feelings and her happiness would matter little more to her father than -did to herself the feelings, if they had any, of the thorns which she -put out of her way. To put these consciousnesses into words is to -condemn; but in one’s thoughts one takes such known facts for granted -without any opinion. - -To leap into the midst of such complications all at once is very hard -for a young soul. Ordinarily, the girl to whom it suddenly becomes -apparent that she may be called upon to give up her love, has at least -something to rest upon in the way of compensation; when it is in -fiction, she has to save her father from ruin, and often it happens in -real life that the delight of all her friends, the approbation of her -parents, the satisfaction of all who love her, is the reward for her -sacrifice. But poor Winifred was without any such consolation. If she -gave up her happiness for the sake of retaining and restoring their -inheritance to her brothers, they would revile her in the meantime, and -take it as the mere restitution of something stolen from them, in the -future. Or she might find that the inheritance came to her under -restrictions which made her sacrifice useless, and her desire to do -justice impossible. What was she then to do? There came into her mind a -sudden wish that Edward was still as he was six months ago, vehement, -impatient, almost desperate. Oh, if he would but take the matter into -his own hands, risk everything, carry her away, make it impossible once -for all that she should be the one who had to set all right! She said to -herself that she ought to have consented when he had urged this upon -her. Why should she have hesitated? They had been held in suspense for -two years, a long time in which to exercise patience, to linger on the -threshold of life. And it was not as if her father wanted her love, or -would feel his house vacant and miserable without her. He who could cut -off his sons without a compunction had never shown any particular love -for his daughter. His thoughts were concentrated upon himself. She was -not so necessary to him as old Hopkins was, who understood all his -tastes. - -When Winifred suffered herself for a moment to think of herself, to leap -in imagination from Bedloe, with all its luxuries, from the sombre life -at home, undisturbed now by any joyous expectation of the boys, with no -hope even of family letters that would afford anything but pain--to the -doctor’s little house full of sunshine and pleasantness, the life of two -which is the perfection of individual existence--her heart, too, seemed -to leap out of her bosom towards that other world. Oh, if she could but -be liberated without any action of her own, carried away, transported -from her own dim life to that of him to whom above all others she -belonged! This flight of fancy lifted her up in a momentary exaltation -above all her troubles. Then she tumbled down, down to the dust. She -knew very well it would not be. He could not, even if he wished it, -which now it seemed he did not, carry her away without consulting her, -without her consent. And she could never give that consent. She could -not abandon her home, her duties, the possibility of serving her -brothers, the necessity of serving her father. One must act according -to one’s nature, however clearly one may see a happier way, however -certain one may be of the inefficiency of self-denial. Sometimes even -duty becomes a kind of immorality, a servile consent to the tyranny of -others; but still to the dutiful it is a bond which cannot be broken. -Winifred felt herself look on like a spectator, and sadly assent to the -possible destruction of her own life and all her hopes. It might be -delayed, it might not come at all, but still it was impending over her, -and she did not know how she was to escape, even in that one impossible -way. - -She had reached the edge of the park without knowing it in the fulness -of her preoccupation, when the sound of a dog-cart coming along the road -awoke her attention. It was no wonderful thing that Edward should be -passing at that moment, though she had not thought of it. Neither was -it extraordinary that he should throw the reins to his servant and join -her. “I have just time to walk back with you,” he said. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -It was scarcely in nature that the appearance of her betrothed, coming -so suddenly in the midst of her thoughts, should be disagreeable to -Winifred, but it was an embarrassment to her, and rather added to than -lessened the trouble on her mind. He led her back into the park, which -she had been coming out of, scarcely knowing where she wandered. As was -his way when they were beyond the reach of curious eyes, he took her arm -instead of offering her his. There was something more caressing, more -close in this manner of contact. When they were safe beyond all -interruption, he bent over her tenderly. - -“Something is the matter,” he said. - -“Nothing new, Edward.” - -“Only the trouble of yesterday, Tom’s going away?” - -“It is not the trouble of yesterday. It is a trouble which lasts, which -is going on, which may never come to an end. I don’t think you can say -of any trouble that it is only of yesterday.” - -“That is very true; still, you and I are not given to philosophising, -Winnie, and I thought there might be some new incident. I suppose he -sails to-day?” - -“Yes, he sails to-day: and when will he come back again? Will he ever -come back? The two of them? Oh, Edward, life is very hard, very -different from what one thought.” - -“At your age people are seldom so much mixed up in it. But there is the -good as well as the bad.” - -“Perhaps,” said the girl, faltering, “I am looking through spectacles, -not rose-coloured, all the other way. I don’t see very much of the -good.” - -He pressed her arm close to his side. - -“Am not I a little bit of good; is not our life all good if it were only -once begun?” - -“But what if it never begins?” - -“Winnie!” he cried, startled, standing still and drawing her suddenly in -front of him so that he could look into her face. - -“Oh, Edward, don’t add to my troubles; I don’t see how it is ever to -begin. My father means to put me in Tom’s place, as he put Tom in -George’s place, and already he has said”-- - -“What has he said?” - -“Perhaps it means nothing,” she went on after a pause; “I should have -kept it to myself.” - -“Winnie, that is worse than anything he can have said. What he says I -can bear, but not that you should keep anything to yourself.” - -“It was not much. It was a sort of a threat. He said the match that was -good enough for Winnie might not be good enough for”-- - -“His heiress. He is right enough,” young Langton said. - -At this, Winifred, who had been anticipating in her own mind all that -was involved, trembled as if it had never occurred to her before, and -turned upon him with an air, and indeed with the most real sentiment of -grieved surprise. - -“Right?” she said, with wonder and reproach in her voice. - -“A country doctor,” said the young man, “a fellow with nothing, is not a -match for the heiress of Bedloe. He is right enough. We cannot -contradict him. You ought to make an alliance like a princess with some -one like yourself.” - -“I did not think,” said Winnie, raising her head with a flush of anger, -“that you would have been the one to make it all worse.” - -He smiled upon her, still holding her closely by the arm. “Did you think -I had not thought of that before now? Of course, from his point of view, -and, of course, from all points of view except our own, Winnie”-- - -“I am glad you make that exception.” - -“It is very magnanimous of me to do so, and you will have to be all the -more good to me. I am not blind, and I have seen it all coming, from the -moment of Tom’s failure. Why was he so silly as to fail, when a hundred -boobies get through every year?” - -“Poor Tom!” she said, with a little gush of tears. - -“Yes; poor Tom! I suppose he never for a moment thought--But, for my -part, I have seen it coming. I have seen for a long time what way the -tide was turning. At first there was not much thought of you; you were -only the little girl in the house. If it had not been so, I should have -run away, I should not have run my head into the net, and exposed myself -to certain contempt and rejection. But I saw that nobody knew there was -in the house an angel unawares.” - -“Edward, you make me ashamed! You know how far I am”-- - -“From being an angel? I hope so, Winnie. If I saw the wings budding, I -should get out my instruments and clip them: it would be a novel sort -of an operation. I thought their ignorance was my opportunity.” - -She was partly mollified, partly alarmed. “You did not think all this -before you let yourself--care for me, Edward?” - -“I did before I allowed myself to tell you that I--cared for you, as you -say. One does not do such a thing without thinking. There was a time -when I thought that I must give up the splendid practice of Bedloe, with -Shippington into the bargain; the rich appointment of parish doctor, the -fat fees of the Union”-- - -“You can laugh at it,” she said, “but it is very, very serious to me.” - -“And so it is very, very serious to me. So much so that six months ago I -wanted to throw everything up, if you would only have consented to come -with me, and seek our fortune, I did not mind where”-- - -“Ah!” she said. There was in the exclamation a world of wistful meaning. -What an escape it would have been from all after peril! Winifred said -this with the slight shiver of one who sees the means of safety which -she could never have taken advantage of. - -“But now,” he said, “it is too late for that.” - -His tone of conviction went to Winifred’s heart like a stone. She would -never have consented to it; but yet why did he say it was too late? She -gave him a wistful glance, but asked no question. To do so would have -been contrary to her pride and every feeling. They went on for a few -minutes in silence, she more cast down than she could explain--he adding -nothing to what he had said. Why did he add nothing? Things could not be -left now as they were, without mutual explanation and decision what they -were to do. Too late? She felt in her heart, on the contrary, that now -was the only moment in which it could have been done, in which she could -have wound herself up to the possibility--if it were not for other -possibilities, which, alas! would thrust themselves into the way. - -“I have something to tell you,” he said, “something which you will think -makes everything worse. I might have kept you in ignorance of it, as I -have been doing; but the knowledge must come some time, and it will -explain what I have said”-- - -She withdrew a little from him, and drew herself up to all the height -she possessed, which was not very much. There went to her heart a quick -dart like the stab of a knife. She thought he was about to tell her that -his own mind had changed, or that her coming wealth and importance had -made it incompatible with his pride to continue their engagement. -Something of this kind it seemed certain that it must be. In the sudden -conviction of the moment it did not occur to Winifred that such a new -thing could scarcely be told while he held her so closely to him, and -clasped her hand and arm so firmly. But it was not a moment for the -exercise of reason. She did not look up, but she raised her head -instinctively and made an effort to loosen her hand from his clasp. But -of these half-involuntary movements he took no note, being fully -occupied with what was in his mind. - -“Winnie,” he said in a serious voice, “your father talks at his ease of -making wills and changing the disposition of his property. I don’t -suppose he thinks for a moment how near he may be--how soon these -changes may come into effect.” - -A little start, a little tremor ran through her frame. Her attitude of -preparation for a blow relaxed. She did not understand what he meant in -the relief of perceiving that it was not what she thought. - -“My father? I don’t understand you, Edward.” - -“No, I scarcely expected you would. He looks what people call the -picture of health.” - -She started now violently and drew her arm out of his in the shock of -the first suggestion. “My father!” she stammered--“the picture of -health--you do not mean, you cannot mean”-- - -“I have been cruel,” he said, drawing tenderly her arm into his. “I have -given you a great shock. My darling, it had to be done sooner or later. -Your father, though he looks so well, is not well, Winnie. I never was -satisfied that he got over that illness as he thought he did. But even I -was not alarmed for a long time. Now for several months I have been -watching him closely. If he does not make this new will at once, he may -never do it. If he does, it will not be long before you are called on to -assume your place.” - -“Edward! you do not mean that my father--You don’t mean that there is -absolute danger--to his life--soon--now? Edward! you do not think”-- - -“Dear, you must show no alarm. You must learn to be quite calm. You must -not betray your knowledge. It may be at any moment--to-day, to-morrow, -no one can tell. It is not certain--nothing is certain--he may go on for -a year.” - -The light seemed to fail in Winifred’s eyes. She leant against her lover -with a rush and whirl of hurrying thoughts that seemed to carry away her -very life. It was not the awful sensation of a calamity from which there -is no escape, such as often overwhelms the tender soul when first -brought face to face with death; but rather a horrible sense of what -that doom would be to him, the cutting off of everything in which, so -far as she knew, he took any pleasure or ever thought of. The idea of a -spiritual life beyond would not come into any accordance with her -consciousness of him. Mr. Chester was one of those men whom it is -impossible to think of as entering into rest, or attaining immediate -felicity by the sudden step of death. There are some people whom the -imagination refuses to connect with any surroundings but those of -prosaic humanity. They must die, too, like the most spiritually-minded; -but there comes upon the soul a sensation of moral vertigo when we think -of them as entering the life of an unseen world. This, though it may -seem unnatural to say so, was the first sensation of Winifred, a sense -of horror and alarm, an immediate realisation of the terrible -inappropriateness of such a removal. What would become of him when -removed from earth, the only state of existence with which he had any -affinities? It sent a shiver over her, a chill sense of the unknown and -unimaginable which seemed to freeze the blood in her veins. It was only -when she recovered from this that natural feeling gained utterance. She -had leant against her lover in that first giddiness, with her head -swimming, her strength giving way. She came slowly back to herself, -feeling his arm which supported her with a curious beatific sense that -everything was explained between him and her, mingled with the sensation -of natural grief and dismay. - -“I do not feel as if it could be possible,” she said faintly. Then, with -trembling lips, “My father?” and melted into tears. - -“My dearest, it is right you should know. It is for this reason I have -tried to persuade you not to go against him in anything. The more -tranquillity he has, the better are his chances for life. Let him do as -he threatens. Perhaps if you withdraw all opposition he will delay the -making of another will, as almost all men do--for there seems time -enough for such an operation, and nothing to hurry for. Get him into -this state of mind if you can, Winnie. Don’t oppose him; let it be -believed that you see the justice of his intention, that you are willing -to do what he pleases.” - -“Even”--she said, and looked up at him, pausing, unable to say more. - -He took both her hands in his, and looked at her, smiling. “Even,” he -said, “to the length of allowing him to believe that you have given up a -man that was never half good enough for you; but who believes in you -all the same like heaven.” - -“Believes in me--when I pretend to give up what I don’t give up, and -pretend to accept what I don’t accept? Is that the kind of woman you -believe in?” she cried, drawing away her hands. “How can I do so? How -can I consent to cheat my father, and he perhaps--perhaps”-- - -She stood faltering, trembling, crying, but detaching herself with -nervous force from his support, in a passion of indignation and trouble -and dismay. - -He answered her with a line in which is the climax of heart-rending -tragedy, holding out to her the hands from which she had escaped-- - - “Faith unfaithful kept him falsely true.” - -“That may do for poetry,” she said; “but for me, I am not great enough -or grand enough to--to--to be able to brave it. Edward, do not ask me. -I must tell the truth. If I tried to do anything else, my face, my looks -would betray me. Oh, don’t be so hard on me. Ask me something less than -this, ask me now to”-- - -She stopped terror-stricken, not knowing what she had said; but he only -looked at her tenderly, shaking his head. “If I had ever persuaded you -to that,” he said, “I should have been a cad and a rascal, for it would -have broken your heart. But now I should be worse--I might be a -murderer. Winnie, you must yield for his sake. You must let him live as -long as God permits.” - -“And deceive him?” she said, almost inaudibly. “Oh, you don’t know what -you are asking of me! You are asking too much cleverness, too much -power. I can only say one thing or another. I cannot be falsely true.” - -“You can do everything that is necessary, whatever it may be, for those -you love,” he said. - -She stood faltering before him for a moment, turning her eyes from one -side to the other, as if in search of help. But there was nothing that -could give her any aid. The heavens seemed to close in above her, and -the earth to disappear from under her feet. If she had ever consented to -an untruth in her life, it had been to shield and excuse her brothers, -for whom there were always apologies to be made. And how to deceive she -knew not. - -They went on together across the park, not noticing the wetness of the -grass or the threatening of the sky, upon which clouds were once more -blowing up for rain, so much absorbed in their consultation that they -were close to the house before they were aware, and started like guilty -things surprised when Mr. Chester came sharply upon them round a corner, -buttoned up to the chin, and with an umbrella in his hand. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -“Why don’t you come to the house and have your talk out? She has got her -feet wet, and if she does not look sharp, we shall all be caught in the -rain--a doctor should know better than to expose a young lady to -bronchitis. Besides, her life is more important than it ever was -before.” - -“We forgot how the skies were looking. You should not be out of doors -either; it is worse for you than for her. I told you this morning you -had a cold.” - -“You are always telling me I have a cold. I shan’t live a day the less -for that,” said Mr. Chester, with a jauntiness which made Winifred’s -heart sick. - -“I hope not, but we must take care,” said young Langton. “Come back -now--don’t go any farther. I hope you were coming only to bring Miss -Chester back.” - -“I was coming to bring Miss Chester back--and for other things,” said -her father significantly. He put a little emphasis on the name, and -Winifred had already been painfully affected by hearing her name -pronounced so formally by her lover. He had never addressed her -familiarly in her father’s presence, but now there seemed a meaning in -everything, and as her father repeated it, there seemed in it a whole -new world and new disposition of affairs. “But as it is going to be a -wet night,” he added, “and we shall have a dull time of it, nothing but -myself and two females at dinner, you had better come and dine with us, -doctor, if you have nothing better to do.” - -“I will come with pleasure,” Langton said. He had perfect command of -himself, and yet he could not refrain from a momentary glance at -Winifred, which said much. - -She, too, divined, with a sinking of her heart, that it was not merely -for dinner, or to relieve himself from the society of “two females,” -that her father gave the invitation. He was unusually gracious and -smiling. - -“You know you’re always welcome,” he said. “The ladies spoil you. A -young doctor is something like a curate, he is always spoiled by the -ladies; but they shan’t have so much of your company as they expect, for -I have got several things to talk to you about.” - -“As many as you like,” said Langton, “but let me entreat you to go in -now.” - -“You see how anxious our friend is about my health, Winnie; he does not -care half so much for yours, and you are a deal more liable to take cold -than ever I was. You take that from your mother, who was always a feeble -creature. The stamina is on the Chester side. Very well, doctor, very -well. I don’t like the wet any more than you do. I’m going in, don’t be -afraid. Dinner at seven, sharp, and don’t keep us waiting.” - -Mr. Chester’s laugh seemed to the young pair to mean much; the very wave -of his hand as he turned away, his insistance upon the hour of dinner, -all breathed of fate. The two young people exchanged one look as they -shook hands; on his side it was a look at once of encouragement and -entreaty--on hers of terror and wistfulness. She was afraid and yet -anxious to be left alone with her father. It seemed to Winifred that she -could bear what he said to herself, however painful it might be, but -that an insulting dismissal of Edward was more than she could bear. She -could not linger, however, nor say a word to him beyond what ordinary -civility required. Even the momentary pause did not pass without remark. - -“Some last words?” Mr. Chester said; “one would think you had seen -enough of each other. You should make your appointments a little earlier -in the day.” - -“It was no appointment, papa. I was walking, and Dr. Langton came up in -his dog-cart.” - -“Oh, very likely; these things fall in so pat, don’t they? I suppose I -am past the age for encountering people in dog-carts just when I want -them. But you must not calculate too much on that,” he said with a -laugh. “There’s no reason why I shouldn’t marry and provide myself with -another family, that might be more to my mind than you.” - -To this Winnie made no reply. The threat had offended her on other -occasions; now it affected her with that dreadful sense of the -intolerable to which words can give no expression; it brought the blood -in a rush to her face, and she looked at him in spite of herself with -eyes in which pity and horror were mingled. He met her look with a -laugh. - -“You are horrified, are you? That’s all very well for you; but let me -tell you, many an older man than I, and less pleasing, perhaps, has got -a pretty young wife before now. It has to be paid for, like every other -luxury; but women are plenty, my dear, though you mayn’t think so.” - -“Papa, do you think this is a subject to discuss with me?” - -“Why not? You are the only one except myself that would be much affected -by it. It might interfere with your comforts, and it would interfere -very much with your importance, I can tell you, Miss Winnie.” - -“Then, father,” the girl said, “for Heaven’s sake do it, and don’t talk -of it any more. Rather that a thousand times than to be forced to agree -to what I abhor, than to be put in another’s place, than to have to give -up”-- - -He turned round and looked at her somewhat sternly. “What do you expect -to be obliged to give up?” he said. - -Between her fear of doing harm to him, whose tranquillity she had been -charged to preserve, and her fear of precipitating matters and bringing -upon herself at once the prohibition she feared--and that natural -nervous desire to forestall a catastrophe which was entirely -contradictory of the other sentiments, Winifred paused and replied to -him with troubled looks rather than with speech. When she found her -voice, she answered, faltering-- - -“What you said to me yesterday, meant giving up the truth and all I have -ever cared for in my life. I have always wanted, desired, more than my -life, to be of use to--the boys--and to be made to appear as if I were -against them”-- - -Her voice was interrupted with sobs. Ah, but was not this the beginning -of treachery? It was the truth, but not the whole truth; the boys were -much, but there was something which was still more. Already in the first -outset and beginning she was but falsely true. - -“This is all about the boys, is it?” he said coldly--“as you call them. -I should say the men--who have taken their own way, and had their own -will, and like it, I hope. If it comes to a bargain between you and me, -Winnie, there must be something more than that.” - -“There can be no bargain between you and me,” said Winifred. In the -meantime, looking at him, she had thought his colour varied, and that a -slight stumble he made over a stone was a sign of weakness; and her -heart sank with sudden compunction. “Oh, no bargain, papa! It is yours -to tell me what to do, and mine to--to obey you.” Her voice weakened and -grew low as she said these words. She felt as if it were a solemn -promise she was making, instead of the most ordinary of dutiful -speeches. He nodded his head repeatedly as she spoke. - -“That’s as it should be, Winnie,--that’s as it should be; continue like -that, my dear, and you shall hear no more of the new wife. So long as -you are reasonable, I am quite content with my daughter, who does me -credit. It is your duty to do me credit. I am going to do a great deal -for you, and I have more claim than just the ordinary claim. Go in now, -the rain’s coming. As for me, for all that young fellow says, I don’t -believe it matters. I feel as fit as ever I did in my life. Still, -bronchitis is a nuisance,” he added, coughing a little, as he followed -her indoors. - -Winifred did not appear again till the hour of dinner. She was, like -every one who hears a sentence of death for the first time, apprehensive -that the event which seemed at one moment incredible might happen the -next, and she stole along the corridor at least half a dozen times, to -make sure that her father was in the room called the library, in which -he read his newspapers. If any sound was heard in the silence of the -house, she conjured up terrible visions of a sudden fall and -catastrophe. - -How was it possible to oppose him in anything? If he told her to abandon -Edward, she would have to reply--as if he had asked her to go out for a -walk, or drive with him in his carriage--“Yes, papa.” It would not -matter what he asked, she must make the same answer, conventional, -meaning as little as if it had been a request for a cup of tea. And -about his will the same assent would have to be necessary. She must -appear to him and to the world to be very willing to supplant her -brothers; she must appear to give up her lover because now she was too -great and too rich to marry a poor man. This was the charge her lover -himself had laid upon her. She must consent to everything. The true -feelings of her mind, and all her intentions and hopes, must be laid -aside, and she must appear as if she were another woman, a creature -influenced by the will of others without any of her own. - -Even that was a possible position. A girl might give up all natural will -and impulse. She might be a passive instrument in other people’s hands. -She might take passively what was given to her, and passively allow -something else to be taken away: that might be weak, miserable, and -unworthy--but it need not be false. What was required of her was more -than this. It was required of her that she should pretend to be all this -till her father should die, and then turn round and deceive him in his -grave. The thought made Winifred shiver with a chill which penetrated -her very heart. After, could she undo all she had done, baulk him after -he was dead, proclaim to all the world that she had deceived him? Was -that what Edward meant by being falsely true? She said to herself that -she could not do it, that it would be impossible. In the case of her -brothers, perhaps, where only renunciation was necessary, she might do -it; but to gain happiness for herself she could not do it. “I cannot, I -cannot!” she cried to herself under her breath; and then lower still, -with an anguish of resolution and determination, “I will not!” If she -gave him up, it should be for ever. She would not play a part, and -pretend submission, and deceive. - -But, to the astonishment of both these young people, Mr. Chester that -evening did not say a word on the subject. During dinner he was more -agreeable than usual; but when the ladies went out of the room, young -Langton, as he met the eyes of his betrothed, gave her a look which told -that he knew what was coming. He was so nervous when he was left behind -that for the first few minutes he hardly knew what was being said to -him; but when he calmed down and came to himself, an astonished sense -that nothing was being said took the place of his dread, and bewildered -him altogether. All that Mr. Chester had to say was to ask for some -information about a small estate which was to be sold in another part of -the country which was better known to the doctor than to himself. He -asked his advice, indeed, as to whether he should or should not become -its purchaser, in a way which made young Langton’s head go round, for it -was the manner of a man who was consulting one of those who were -concerned, an intimate friend, perhaps a son-in-law. He said to himself, -after a moment, when this subject was exhausted, that now it must be -coming. But, on the contrary, there was not a word. - -When the two gentlemen went into the drawing-room, Winifred asked him -with her eyes a question which was full of the anguish of suspense. He -managed behind the cover of a book to say to her, “Nothing has been -said;” but this was so wonderful that the relief was too much, and -neither could she believe in that. They both felt that the pause, though -almost miraculous, could not be real, and that the coming storm was all -the more certain because of this delay. - -Late that night Mr. Chester felt unwell, and sent into the village for -the doctor just as he was going to bed. Langton put on his coat, and -jumped into the dog-cart which had been sent for him, with a sudden -quickening of all his pulses, and the sense of a miraculous escape more -distinctly in his mind than solicitude for his patient. Winifred met him -at the door with wild anxiety and terror, and followed him to her -father’s room, with all her nerves strung for the great and terrible -event of which she had been warned. She thought nothing less than that -the hour of calamity had come, and the whole house was moved with a -vague horror of anticipation, although no one knew that there was -anything to fear. The doctor’s practised eye, however, saw in a moment -that it was a false alarm, and it was with a pang almost of -disappointment that he reassured her. He could only appear glad, but -there was no doubt in his own mind that it was a distinct mistake of -Providence. Had Mr. Chester died then, he would have left the world with -one or two sins the less on his conscience, and a great deal of human -misery would have been spared. - -“You think I should not have roused you out of your comfortable bed -without the excuse of dying, or at least something more in it?” the -patient said; “but you will find I am a tough customer, and likely to -give you more trouble before you are done with me.” - -“It is no trouble,” the doctor said, with a grave face; “but you must -learn to be careful.” - -“Pshaw!” said the rich man. “I tell you I am a tough customer. It is not -a bit of an evening walk that will free you of me.” - -“We will do our best to fortify you for evening walks; but you must be -careful,” Langton said. - -Upon which his patient gave a chuckle, and turned round in his bed and -went to sleep like a two-years child. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -A threatened life is said to last long. Winifred Chester lived in great -alarm and misery for a week or two, watching every movement and every -look of her father, expecting almost to see him fall and die before her -very eyes. The horror of a catastrophe which she could not avert, which -nothing could be done to stave off, intensified the natural feeling -which makes the prospect of another’s death, even of an indifferent -person, overawing and terrible. And though it was impossible to believe -that a man like Mr. Chester could inspire his daughter with that -impassioned filial love which many daughters bear to their parents, yet -he was her father, and all the habits of her life were associated with -him: so that the idea of his sudden removal conveyed almost as great a -shock to her mind as if the warmest bonds of love, instead of a natural -affection much fretted by involuntary judgments given in her heart -against him, had been the bond between them. - -And there can be nothing in the world more dreadful to the mind than to -watch the life and actions of a human creature whom we know to be on the -brink of the grave, but who neither suspects nor anticipates any danger, -and lives every day as though he were to live for ever. To hear him say -what he was going to do in the time to come, the changes he meant to -make, the improvements, the new furnishings, the plantings, all that was -to be done during the next ten years, filled Winifred with a thrill of -misery which was not unmingled with compunction. Could she say nothing -to him, give him no hint, whisper in his ear no intimation that his days -were numbered? She shrank within herself at the thought of presuming to -do so; and yet to be with him and walk by him, and listen to all his -anticipations, and never do it, seemed horrible. All his thoughts were -of the world in which he had, as he did not know, so precarious a -footing. He was a man who wanted no other, whose horizon was bounded by -the actual, whose aspirations did not exceed what human life could give -him. He had met with disappointments and probably had felt them as -bitterly as other men, but his active spirit had never been arrested, he -had turned to something else in which he expected compensation. The -something else at present was Winifred; she had done him credit, and -might do so still in a higher degree than had been possible to her -brothers. She might marry anybody. As for the doctor, when the moment -came, Mr. Chester knew very well how to make short work of the doctor. -And Winnie, of whom there could be no doubt that she was a lady, should -marry a lord and satisfy her father’s pride, and make up for everything. - -His mind had taken refuge in this with an elasticity which minds of -higher tone and better inspirations do not always possess; and those -plans which to her were so frightful, those arrangements of years which -he should never see, were all with a view to this satisfaction which he -had promised himself. He was going to preserve the game strictly, a duty -which he had not much thought of hitherto: he was going to enlarge the -house--to build a new wing for my lord, as he began within himself to -name his unknown son-in-law. In these arrangements he forgot his own -sons, putting them aside altogether, as if they had never existed, and -forgot also, or at least never took into consideration, any uncertainty -in life, any thought of consolations less positive. - -To see a man so terribly off his guard is always a spectacle very -terrible and surprising when the mind of the spectator is roused to it, -just as the sight of any indifferent passer-by going lightly along a -road on which death awaits him round the next corner, is almost more -appalling than the sight of death itself, especially if we cannot warn -him or do anything to save. And how could he die? A man who cared for -nothing that was not in the life he knew, how was he to adapt himself to -another, to anything so different? Winifred’s brain swam, the light -faded before her as she sat watching him, unable to take her eyes from -him, full of terror, compassion, pity. - -“What are you staring at so?” he asked on more than one occasion. - -“Nothing, papa,” Winifred replied incoherently, consciousness suddenly -coming back to her as his voice broke the giddiness and throng of -intolerable thoughts. - -“One would think you saw a ghost behind me,” he said, with a laugh. -“That’s the new æsthetic fashion of absent-mindedness, I suppose;” and -this explanation satisfied and even pleased him, for he wished Winnie to -be of the latest fashion and “up to everything” with the best. - -Miss Farrell, on the other hand, scolded her pupil, as much as she could -scold any one, for this sudden alarm which had seized her. “It is just a -fad,” the old lady said. “Edward has his fads like other people: doctors -have; they are fond of a discovery that leads to nothing. I never saw -your dear father look better in his life.” - -“He does not look ill,” Winifred allowed, with a faint movement of -relief. - -“Ill? he looks strong, younger than he did five years ago, and such a -colour, and an excellent appetite. But I am glad to hear that is what -Edward thinks, for it explains everything.” - -“Glad?” it was Winifred’s turn to exclaim. - -“My dear, when you are my age you will know that one is sometimes glad -of an explanation of things that have puzzled one, even though the -explanation itself is not cheerful. I think this fright of Edward’s is a -piece of folly, but yet it explains many things. As for your dear -father, if he were a little unwell from time to time, that would be -nothing to wonder at. Gout, for instance--one is always prepared for -gout in a man of his age. But he is up early and late, he has the -complexion of a ploughboy, and can eat everything without even a thought -of his digestion. I envy him,” she said, with fervour. Then, giving -Winifred a kiss as she leant over her, “You are seeing everything _en -noir_, my dear, and Edward is giving in to you. Don’t think any more -about it for three days; in the meantime I will watch him; give me three -days, and promise me to be happy in the meantime.” - -This time Winifred did not repeat the inappropriate expression, but only -looked at her old friend with tears in her eyes. “I don’t think I have -very much to be happy about,” she said. - -“You have life before you, and youth and hope; and you have Edward; and -your dear father, so far as I can see, in perfect health; and the -others--in the hands of Providence Winnie.” - -“Are we not all in the hands of Providence,” said the girl; “those who -live and those who die, those who do well and those who do ill? and it -does not seem to make any difference.” - -“That is because we see such a little way, such a little way--never what -to-morrow is going to bring forth,” Miss Farrell said. - -But this conversation did not do very much to reassure Winifred, and at -the end of the three days the old lady said nothing. Her experienced -eyes saw, after a close investigation, certain trifles which brought her -to the young doctor’s opinion, or at least made her acknowledge to -herself that he might possibly be right. It is to be feared that Miss -Farrell did not look upon this possibility with horror. She was calmer, -not so much interested, and less full of that instinctive horror and awe -of death which is most strong in the young. She had seen a great many -people die; perhaps she was not for that more reconciled to the idea of -it in her own person than others; but she had come to look upon it with -composure where others were concerned. She thought it likely enough that -Edward might be right; and she thought that, perhaps, this was not the -conclusion which would be most regrettable. It would leave Winifred -free. If he did not alter his will, it would restore the boys to their -rights; and if he did alter his will, Winifred would restore them to -their rights. On making a balance of the greatest happiness of the -greatest number, no doubt it would be for the best that Mr. Chester -should end his career. - -After these three days, at the end of which Winifred asked no -explanation from her friend, many other days followed, with nothing -happening. The force of the impression was softened in her mind, and -though the appearance of Mr. Chester’s man of business on two or three -several occasions gave her a renewed thrill of terror, yet her father -said nothing on the subject of his will, and she was glad on her side to -ignore it, feeling that nothing she could say or do would have any -effect upon his resolution. On the last evening, when Mr. Babington, -after a long afternoon with Mr. Chester in the library, stayed to -dinner, the cheerfulness and satisfaction of the master of the house -were visible to everybody. He had the best wine in his cellar out for -his old friend, and talked to him all the evening of “old days,” as he -said, days when he himself had little expectation of ever being the -Squire of Bedloe. - -“But many things have changed since that time,” he added, “and the last -is first and the first last, eh, Babington, in more senses than one.” - -“Yes, in more senses than one,” the lawyer said gravely, sipping the old -port which had been disinterred for him with an aspect not half so -jovial as that of his patron, though it was wine such as seldom appears -at any table in these degenerate days. - -“In more senses than one,” Mr. Chester repeated. “Fill your glass again, -old Bab; and, Miss Farrell, stay a moment, and let me give you a little -wine, for I am going to propose a toast.” - -“I am not in the habit of drinking toasts,” said Miss Farrell, who had -risen from her chair; “but as I am sure it is one which a lady need not -hesitate about, since you propose it”-- - -“No lady need hesitate,” said Mr. Chester, “for it is to one that is a -true lady, as good a lady as if she had royal blood in her veins. You -would not better her, I can tell you, if you were to search far and -wide; and as you have had some share in making her what she is, Miss -Farrell, it stands to reason you should have a share in her advancement. -I have a great mind to call in all the servants and make them drink it -too.” - -“Don’t,” said the lawyer hurriedly; “a thing is well enough among -friends that is not fit for strangers, or servants either. For my part, -I wish everything that is good to Miss Winifred; but yet”-- - -“Hold your tongue, Babington; it is none of your business. Here’s the -very good health of the heiress of Bedloe, and good luck to her, and a -fine title and a handsome husband, and everything that heart can -desire.” - -The two ladies had risen, and still stood, Miss Farrell with the glass -of wine which Mr. Chester had given her in her hand, Winifred standing -very straight by the table, and white as the dress she wore. Miss -Farrell grew pale too, gazing from one to the other of the two -gentlemen, who drank their wine, one with a flushed and triumphant -countenance, the other in little thoughtful gulps. “I can’t refuse to -drink the health of Winifred, however it is put,” she said tremulously. -“But if this is what you mean, Mr. Chester”-- - -“Yes, my old girl,” cried Mr. Chester, “this is what I mean; and I don’t -know what anybody can have to say against it--you, in particular, that -have brought her up, and done your duty by her, I must say. She has -always been a good friend to you, and always will be, I can answer for -her, and you shall never want a home as long as she has one. But if you -have anything to say against my arrangements, or what I mean to do for -her”-- - -Miss Farrell put down the wine with a hand that trembled slightly. She -towered into tremulous height, or so it seemed to the lookers-on. “I say -nothing about the term which you have permitted yourself to apply to me, -Mr. Chester,” she said. “I can make allowance for bad breeding; but if -you think you can prevent me from forming an opinion, and expressing -it”-- - -“Be quiet, Chester,” cried the lawyer, kicking him under the table; but -in the height of his triumph he was not to be kept down. - -“You may form your opinions as you please, and express them too; but, by -George! if you express anything about my affairs, or take it upon you to -criticise, it will have to be in some one else’s house.” - -“That is quite enough,” said the old lady. “I am not in the habit of -receiving affronts. This day is the last I shall spend in your house. I -bid you good evening, Mr. Babington.” She waved her hand majestically as -she went away. As for Winnie, who had endeavoured to stop him with an -indignant cry of “Father!” she turned upon Mr. Chester a pair of eyes, -large and full of woe, which blazed out of her pale face in passionate -protestation as she hurried after her friend. The exit of the ladies was -so sudden after this swift and hot interchange of hostilities that it -left the two men confounded. Mr. Chester gave vent to an exclamation or -two, and turned to his supporter on the other side. - -“What did I say?” he cried. “I haven’t said anything, have I, to make a -tragedy about?” - -“It would have been a great deal better to say nothing at all,” was all -the comfort Babington gave him. The lawyer went on with the port, which -was very good. He thought quarrels were always a nuisance, but that -Chester did indeed--there could be no doubt of it--want some one to take -him down a peg or two. - -“If your daughter does not much like it herself, as seems to be the -case, it’s a pity to set the old lady on to make her worse. And Miss -Winifred wants a lady with her,” he said between the gulps. - -He gave no support to the angry man, hot with excitement and triumph, to -whom this sudden check had come in the midst of his outburst of angry -satisfaction. - -Mr. Chester’s countenance fell. - -“You don’t mean,” he cried, “that she will be such a fool as to go away? -Pshaw! she’s not such a fool as that. She knows on what side her -bread’s buttered. She’s lived at Bedloe these dozen years.” - -“Everybody knows Miss Farrell,” said the lawyer. “She’s as proud as -Lucifer, and as fiery, if she is set ablaze.” - -“Pooh!” said the other; “it is nothing but a breeze; we’ll be all right -again to-morrow. She knows me, and I know her. She is not such a fool as -to throw away a comfortable home, because I called her old girl. Are you -determined, after all, that you won’t stay the night?” - -“I must get home--I must indeed. To-morrow early I have half a dozen -appointments.” - -“Then, if you will go,” said Mr. Chester,--“which I take unkind of you, -for, of course, the appointments could stand, if you chose;--but if you -must go, it’s time for your train.” - -“Thank you for telling me,” said Mr. Babington. He jumped up with a -slight resentment, though he had been quite determined about going away -that night; but then he had not known that there would be this quarrel, -which he should have liked to see the end of, or that the port would be -so good. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -The sound of the brougham rolling along down the avenue, and of the -closing of the great door upon the departing guest, came to Winifred, as -she sat alone, with a dreary sound. Mr. Babington was no particular ally -of hers, and yet it felt like the going away of a friend. Presently her -father came into the room, talking over his shoulder to old Hopkins -about the hot water and lemons which were to be placed in the library -ready for him. “Ten o’clock will do,” he said. It was only about nine, -and Winifred felt, not with transport, that she was to have her father’s -society for the next hour. It was by this time too warm to have a fire -in the evening, but yet they sat habitually, when the lamp was lighted, -near the fireplace. Mr. Chester came up to this central spot, and drew a -chair near to his daughter and sat down. He brought a smell of wine with -him, and a sensation of heat and excitement. “Why are you sitting by -yourself,” he said, “like a sparrow on the housetop? It seems to me you -are always alone.” - -“I shall have to be alone in future, papa. Miss Farrell”--Winifred could -not say any more for the sob in her throat. - -“Oh, this is too much!” said Mr. Chester. “Couldn’t she or any one see -that I was a little excited? She must know I don’t mean any harm. That -is all nonsense, Winnie. You shall say something pretty to her from me, -and make an end of it. Why, what’s all this fuss about a hasty word? She -_is_ an old girl if you come to that--But I don’t want any botheration -now. I want everything to be straight and pleasant. We are going to have -company, people staying in the house, and you can’t do without her, that -is clear.” - -“Oh, papa,” said Winifred, “I wish you would not have any one staying in -the house. I don’t know what you meant to-night, but if it is anything -about me, I--I don’t feel able for company. It is so short a time since -poor Tom”-- - -“You had better let poor Tom alone. I want to hear nothing more of him,” -said the father. “Mind what I say. I mean to make a lady of you, Winnie; -but if you turn upon me like the rest, I am just as fit to do the same -to you.” - -“I would rather you did than have what should be theirs,” said Winifred. -Her heart was beating wildly in her breast with apprehension and dismay, -and she could not be prudent as she had been bidden to be, nor consent -to be what was so odious to her; but even in the warmth of her protest -Edward’s words occurred to her, and she faltered and stopped, with an -alarmed look at her father. He was flushed, and his eyes were fiery and -red. - -“You are going a little too fast,” he said. “It is neither theirs nor -yours, but mine; and I should like to know who has any right to take it -from me. Now that we’ve begun on this subject, we’ll have it out, -Winnie. You’ve been having your own way more than was good for you. -Perhaps, after all, Miss Farrell, who has let you do as you pleased, can -go, and somebody else be got who knows better what is suitable to a -young lady like you. I can have no more flirtations with doctors, or -curates, or that sort. You are old enough to be married, and I want no -more nonsense. That sort of thing, though it means nothing, is bad for -a girl settling in life.” - -Winifred had turned from white to red, sitting gazing at him, yet -shrinking from his eyes. “Papa,” she said, “I don’t know what you mean,” -in a voice so low and troubled that he curved his hand over his ear, -half in pretence, half in sincerity, to hear what she had to say. - -“What I mean?--oh, that is very easy--you are not a child any longer, -and you must throw aside childish things. I have asked a few people for -the week after next. It’s too early for the country, but I know some -that are soon tired of town; and there is a young fellow among them -who--well, who is very well disposed towards you, and well worth your -catching were you twenty times an heiress. So I hope you’ll mind what -you’re about, and play your cards well, and make me father-in-law to an -earl. That’s all that I require of you, my dear; and it’s more for your -own advantage than mine, when all is said.” - -He was very much flushed, she thought, and his eyes almost starting from -his head. Terror seized her, as though some dreadful catastrophe might -happen before her eyes. “Papa,” she said, with an effort, “this is all -very new, and there is so much to think of. Please let it be for -to-morrow. There has been so much to-night--my head is quite confused, -and I don’t seem to understand what you say.” - -“You shall understand what I say, and it is better to be clear about it -once for all. Here is the young Earl coming, as I tell you. He would -suit me very well, and I mean him to suit you, so let us have no -nonsense. If Miss Farrell thinks fit to leave you just when you want -her, she is an ungrateful old--But we’ll find another woman. I mean -everything to be on a right footing when these people turn up.” - -“Papa, of course I shall do all I can to--please your friends.” - -“Well, that’s the first step,” he said. “And it’s very much for your own -advantage. You would not be my daughter if you did not think of that.” - -She made no reply. If this was all, she was pledging herself to nothing, -she thought, with natural inconsistency. But Mr. Chester was not -satisfied. He drew his chair close, so that the odour of his wine and -the excitement in his mind seemed to make a haze in the air around. - -“And look here, Winnie. It doesn’t suit me to send Edward Langton away. -He’s been a fool in respect to you, and you’ve been a fool, and so have -I, for not putting a stop to it at once. But the fellow knows what’s -what better than most. And he knows my constitution. I am not going to -part with him as a doctor because he’s been a presuming prig, and -thought himself good enough for my daughter. It’s for you to let him see -that that’s all over. Come, a word is as good as a wink.” - -“Father,” Winnie said: she looked at him piteously, clasping her hands -with the unconscious gesture of anguish--“oh, don’t take everything from -me in a moment!” she cried. - -“What am I taking from you? I am giving you a fortune, a title probably, -a husband far above anything you could have looked for.” - -“I want no one, papa, but you. Let me take care of you. I will ask for -nothing but only to stay at home quietly and make you comfortable.” - -Mr. Chester pushed back his chair noisily with a loud exclamation. “Do -you take me for a fool?” he said. “Have I ever asked you to stay at -home and make me comfortable? I can make myself comfortable, thank you. -What I want is that you should do me credit. Your confounded humility -and domesticity, and all that, may be very fine in a woman’s novel. -Taking care of her old father, the sweet girl! a ministering angel, and -so forth. Do you think I go in for that sort of rubbish? I can make -myself a deuced deal more comfortable than you could ever make me. Come, -Winnie, no more of this folly. You can make me father-in-law to a -British peer, and that is the sort of comfort I want.” - -His eyes were red with heat and excitement, the blood boiling in his -veins. The girl’s spirit was cowed as she looked at him, not by his -violence, but by the signs of physical disturbance, which took all power -from her. - -“Oh, papa,” she said, “don’t say anything more to-night! I am very -unhappy. I will do anything rather than make you angry, rather -than--disturb you. Have a little pity upon me, papa, and let me off for -to-night.” - -“To-night?” he said; “to-night ought to be the proudest day of your -life. Who could ever have expected that you would be the heiress of -Bedloe, a little chit of a girl? Most fathers would have married you off -to the first comer that would take you and your little bit of fortune. -But I have behaved very different. I have made you as good as an eldest -son--not that I can’t take it all away again, as easily as I gave it, if -you don’t do your best for me.” - -He swayed forward a little as he spoke, in his excitement, and Winifred, -whose terrified eyes were quite prepared to see him fall down at her -feet, rose up hastily, with a little cry. She put out her hands -unconsciously to support him. - -“Oh, papa, I will do whatever you please!” she cried. - -Mr. Chester pushed the outstretched hands away. “You think, perhaps, I -want something to steady me,” he said. “That’s a delusion. I am as -steady as you are, and more so, and know quite as well what I am saying. -However, as long as you have come to your senses and obey me, that’s all -I care for. Look here, Winnie!” he said, again sitting down suddenly and -pushing her back into her chair; “I don’t want to be hard upon you. If -old Farrell wants an apology I’ll make it--to a certain extent. I meant -no offence. She’s very useful in her way. She’s a lady, I always said -so; and she’s made you a lady, and I am grateful to her--more or less. -You can say whatever’s pretty on my part; or I’ll even say a word -myself, if you insist upon it. To have her go now would be deuced -awkward. Tell her I meant no offence. I was a little elevated, if you -like. You may take away my character, if that will please her,” he -added, with a laugh. “Say what you like, I can bear it. Getting -everything done as I wished had gone to my head.” - -“Oh, papa, if you had but wished something else! I am not--good enough. -I am not--strong enough.” - -“Hold your tongue. I hope I’m the best judge of my own affairs,” her -father said. Then he yawned largely in her face. “I think I’ll go and -have my whisky and water. It is getting near bedtime, and I’ve had an -exciting day, what with old Bab, and old Farrell, and you. I’ve been on -the go from morning to night. But you’ve all got to knock under at the -last,” he added, nodding his head, “and the sooner the better, you’ll -find, my dear, if you have any sense.” - -Winifred sat and listened to his heavy step as he went across the hall -to the library and down the long corridor. It seemed to be irregular and -heavier than its wont, and it was an effort of self-restraint not to -follow him, to see that all was safe. When the door of his room closed -behind him, which it did with a louder clang than usual, rousing all the -echoes in the silent house, another terror seized her. Shut into that -library, with no one near him, what might happen? He might fall and die -without any one being the wiser; he might call with no one within -hearing. She started to her feet, then sat down again trembling, not -knowing what to do. She dared say nothing to him of the terror in her -mind. She dared not set the servants to watch over him or take them into -her confidence--even Hopkins, what could she say to him? But she could -not go to her own room, which would be entirely out of the way of either -sight or hearing. Sometimes Mr. Chester would sit up late, after even -Hopkins had gone to bed. The terror in her mind was so great that -Winifred watched half the night, leaving the door of the drawing-room -ajar, and sometimes starting out into the darkness of the hall, at one -end of which a feeble light was kept burning. The hours went by very -slowly while she thus watched and waited, trembling at all the creakings -and rustlings of the night. She forgot the pledge she had given, the new -life that was opening upon her in the midst of these terrors. Visions -flitted before her mind, things which she had read in books of dead men -sitting motionless, with the morning light coming in upon their pallid -faces, or lying where they had fallen till some unthinking servant -stumbled in the morning over the ghastly figure. It was long past -midnight when the library door opened, and, shrinking back into the -darkness, she saw her father come out with his candle. He had probably -fallen asleep in his chair, and the light glowing upon his face showed -it pallid and wan after the flush and heat of the evening. He came -slowly, she thought unsteadily, along the passages, and climbed the -stairs towards his room with an effort. It seemed to her excited -imagination almost a miracle when the door of his bedroom closed upon -him, and the pale blueness of dawn stealing through the high staircase -window proved to her that this night of watching was almost past. But -what might the morning bring forth? - -The morning brought nothing except the ordinary routine of household -life at Bedloe. Mr. Chester got up at his usual hour, in his usual -health. He sent for the doctor, however, in the course of the day, -partly because he wanted him, partly to see how Winnie would behave. - -“I have the stomach of an ostrich,” he said, “but still that port was a -little too much. To drink port with impunity, one should drink it every -day.” - -“It is a great deal better never to drink it at all,” said the doctor; -but Mr. Chester patted him on the back, and assured him that good port -was a very good thing, and much better worth drinking than thin claret. - -“I believe it is that sour French stuff that takes all the spirit out of -you young fellows,” he said. - -Winifred was compelled to be present during this interview. She heard -her father give an account to Edward of the expected guests. - -“You shall come up and dine one evening,” he said. “You must make -acquaintance with the Earl, who may be of use to you. I shouldn’t wonder -if we had him often about here.” - -To Winifred, looking on, saying nothing, but vividly alive to her -father’s offensive tone of patronage, and to the significance of this -intimation, there was torture in every word. But Edward looked at her -with an unclouded countenance, and laughingly assured her father that he -had known the Earl all his life. - -“He is a very good fellow; but he is not very bright,” he said. - -“He may not be very bright, but he is a peer of the realm, and that is -the sort of society that is going to be cultivated at Bedloe. I have had -enough of the little people,” Mr. Chester replied. - -Edward Langton laughed, with the slightest, but only the very slightest, -tinge of colouring in his face. “The little people must take the hint, -and disappear,” he said. - -“But, of course, present company is always excepted. That has nothing to -do with you. You’re professional; you’re indispensable.” - -Young Langton gave Winifred a look. It was swift as lightning, but it -told her more than a volume could have done. The indignation and -forbearance and pity that were in it made a whole drama in themselves. -“I hope I shall prove myself worthy of the exception in my favour,” was -all he said. - -“I have no doubt you will; you were always one that knew your own -place,” said Mr. Chester. - -“Father!” cried Winnie, crimson with shame and indignation. - -“Hold your tongue!” he cried. “The doctor knows what I mean, and I know -what he means; we want no interference from you.” - -It was the first trial of the new state of affairs. She had to shake -hands with him in her father’s presence, with nothing but a look to -express all the trouble in her mind. But Edward on his part was -entirely calm, with a shade of additional colour, but no more. He played -his part more thoroughly than she did--upon which, with the usual -self-torture of women, a cold thought arose in her that perhaps it was -not entirely an assumed part. From every side she had much to bear. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -Miss Farrell did not add to her pupil’s trouble. When she heard the -state of affairs, she gave up with noble magnanimity her intention of -going away. “You must not ask me to meet any one--till the visitors -come,” she said. “I shall remain to give you what help I can; but you -know my rule. When I am treated with rudeness, I make no complaint, I -take no offence, but I go away.” - -“You would not have the heart to desert me,” Winifred said. - -“No, that is just how it is--I have not the heart; but I will take my -meals in my room, my dear. Your dear father”--habit was too strong in -Miss Farrell’s mind even for resentment--“no doubt his meaning was quite -innocent; but we can’t meet again--at all events for the present,” she -added, with much dignity. - -“So long as you do not forsake me,” cried Winnie, and Miss Farrell, -touched, declared “I will never forsake you!” with fervour. - -This added an element which was tragi-comic to Winifred’s distress. With -all the grave and terrible things that surrounded her, the misery of her -new position, the sense of falsehood in her tacit acceptance of all her -father was doing, her fears for him, the chill of alarm of another kind -with which Edward’s composure filled her--there was something ludicrous -in having to provide for Miss Farrell’s retirement into her own rooms, -and the two different spheres thus established in the house. Perhaps it -gave her a little relief in the more serious miseries that were always -so near. It threw a slight aspect of the fictitious into the sombre air -of the house, which seemed charged with trouble. - -But in the meantime the preparations went on for the expected guests. -Mr. Chester meant that they should be received magnificently. Some of -the rooms were entirely refurnished with a luxury and wealth of -upholstering enough to fill even a millionaire with envy. Nothing so -fine existed in the county as the two rooms which were being ornamented -for the use of the very active-minded and energetic woman who was the -young Earl’s mother. To describe the sensation with which Winifred saw -all this is well-nigh impossible. She had been made to consent in -consequence of the arguments used by the very man whose interests were -assailed. But for Edward she would have refused to be any party to the -proposed arrangement--and now she asked herself how far it was to go? -Was she to be forced to consent if a further proposal were made to her? -Was she to be driven to the very church door, in order to avert an evil -which began, to her, every day to appear more visionary? Could it be -that Edward--Edward himself, who had always been the soul of honour in -her eyes--had lent himself to the conspiracy against her? Her heart -cried out so against the coil of falsehood in which her feet seemed to -be caught that life truly became a misery to her--false to her brothers, -false to her father, false to herself. She could not say false to -Edward, since it was Edward himself who exacted this extraordinary proof -of devotion. Every principle in her being rose up against it as it went -on from day to day. She asked herself whether it was doing a less wrong -to her father thus to deceive him by pretended submission than to tell -him the truth even at the risk of an illness. And he had not to her the -least air of being ill. He was a strong man, stronger than almost any -other man of his age, more ruddy, more active. Her head swam with the -multitude of her thoughts. Winifred’s mind was too simple and -straightforward to accept that idea of faith unfaithful. It became like -a yoke of iron upon her shoulders. Mr. Chester grew stronger and more -active, and louder and gayer every day; while she faded and shrank -visibly, unable to make any head against that sea of troubles that -carried her soul away. - -The eve of the appointed visit had arrived, and all the preparations -were complete. Mr. Chester insisted that his daughter should go with him -over all the redecorated rooms to see the effect. “You think perhaps -that this is all for my lady’s gratification,” he said; “that’s a -mistake. It’s for the gratification of Winifred, the new Countess, when -she comes home.” - -“If you mean me, papa”-- - -“Oh no, of course not! how could I mean you?” cried her father, rubbing -his hands. “I mean Miss Chester, who is going to marry the Earl. Perhaps -you don’t know that young lady? She will bring her husband a pretty -estate and a pretty bit of money in her apron, and please her father -down to the ground.” - -“But, papa--Oh, I cannot, I cannot deceive you! It is deceiving you even -to seem to--even to pretend to”-- - -“You had better hold your tongue, Winnie,” he said sternly. “You had -better not go any farther or you may be sorry for it. You should know -very well by this time what I’m capable of when I’m crossed. But I don’t -mean to be crossed this time, I can tell you. It would be hard if a man -couldn’t do what he likes with his own daughter. Go along with you, and -don’t speak back to me.” - -“But, papa”-- - -“Go, I tell you, before you put me in a passion,” her father cried. And -Winifred was terrified by the glare in his eyes, and the quick recurring -fear that she might harm him took all power from her. She hurried away, -leaving him to admire his upholstery by himself. And that afternoon and -evening her distress reached its climax. She would not consult Miss -Farrell. She would not see Edward. Things had gone too far indeed to be -talked of, or submitted to any other decision than that of her own -heart. Once or twice, nay a hundred times, the desire of the coward, to -run away, occurred to her. But how could she, to think of nothing more, -leave her father in the lurch, and expose him to all the comments of -the recent unfriendly acquaintances whom he thought friends? Winifred -was one of those to whom the abandonment of a post was impossible; but -such was the confusion of her misery, that flight, now or at another -moment,--flight alone, hopeless, without leaving any trace behind -her,--seemed to be the only way of escape. At dinner her father seemed -to have forgotten her attempt at rebellion. He talked incessantly of the -guests, rolling their titles with an enjoyment which was half ludicrous, -half pitiful. “You must try and persuade old Farrell to show,” he said. -“She’s very well thought of by all these grandees, and she can talk to -them of people they know--besides, there’s her music, Winnie, that’s -first rate. I’ll come and apologise if she pleases, but we must take -care my lady’s not dull of an evening, and she must show.” He was in -such good spirits that after dinner, with much clearing of his throat, -and something like a blush, he made her sit down to the piano and -accompany him in one of the old songs for which he had been famous -before he began to fear the memory of the singing man at Chester -Cathedral. He had the remains of a beautiful voice, and still sang well -in the old-fashioned style which he had learned when a boy. To hear him -carolling forth a love-song of that period when Moore was monarch, was -to Winnie a wonder and portent which took away her very breath. She -trembled so in her part of the performance that the piano became -inaudible in competition with the fine roll of Mr. Chester’s -grace-notes. “Why, I thought you could play at least,” he said roughly. -“I’ll have old Farrell--she knows what she’s about--to-morrow night.” - -“Well, my dear,” Miss Farrell said, when this conversation was reported -to her, “you know what my feelings are; but I am not dull to the credit -of the family. It being fully understood what my motive is, I shall -certainly appear to-morrow evening, and do my very best to make things -go off well. I will play your dear father’s accompaniment with the -greatest pleasure. He has the remains of a very fine voice, and he has -science, too, though it is old-fashioned. So has your brother George a -beautiful voice; I always wished him to cultivate it. We must do -everything, Winnie, both you and I, to make things go off well. You are -not in good spirits, it is true,--neither am I,--but we must forget all -that for the credit of the house. And how do you think he is himself?” -she added after a pause. - -“He looks very well,” said Winnie. “I see no signs of illness. -Edward”--she paused a little with a faint smile,--“I think I should say -Dr. Langton, for I never see him”-- - -“Oh, my dear, don’t judge him unjustly!--he thinks that is necessary.” - -“You all think it is necessary,” cried Winnie, with a little outburst of -feeling, “to make me as unhappy as possible. I mean to say that I -think--I hope he is mistaken. Even doctors,” she said, with a smile, -“have been mistaken before now.” - -“That is very true,” said Miss Farrell gravely, and then she rose and -kissed the pale face opposite to her. “Anyhow, my dear, you and I will -do our best for him as long as there are strangers in the house.” - -Winifred was worn out by the strain of these troubled days, and by the -self-controversy that had been going on within her. She fell asleep -early in profound exhaustion, the dead sleep of forces overstrained and -heart stupefied with trouble. She woke suddenly in the early dawn of -the morning, while as yet everything was indistinct. What had woke her, -or if it was any external incident at all that had done so, she could -not tell at first; there seemed a tingle and vibration in the pale air. -Was it the early twittering which had begun faintly among the thick -foliage outside? She listened, rising up in her bed, with an intensity -for which there seemed no reason, for no definite alarm occurred to her -mind. Everything was still, not a sound audible but those first faint -chirpings, interrogative, tentative, from the trees. She was about to -compose herself to rest again, when suddenly there sounded tingling -through the silence the sound of a bell, a little angry, impatient -jingle repeated, tearing the stillness. Winifred was too much startled -and confused to realise what it was, but she got up hastily, and, -throwing her dressing-gown round her, opened her door to hear better. -The thought that came first to her mind was, that the summons was at the -door, and that it meant one of the boys coming home. Her heart leaped to -her throat with excitement. The boys had come home at all sorts of hours -in the time which was past, but now, what could this summons be? It came -again while she stood trembling, wondering; and then, with a cry, -Winifred flew along the corridor. Mr. Chester’s room was in the wing, at -some distance from the other sleeping-rooms of the house. Everything was -silent, an atmosphere of profound sleep, calm tranquillity in the dim -air, through which the night-lamp in the hall below burned with a weird -glimmer. The blueness of the dawn in its faint pervasion seemed more -ghostly than the night. - -As Winifred hurried along, another door opened with a hasty sound, and -old Hopkins stumbled forth. “What is it, Miss Winifred?” - -She had no breath to reply. She put him before her, trembling as they -reached Mr. Chester’s door. She was terrified by the thoughts of what -she might see. But there was nothing that was terrible to see. A voice -came out of the curtains, querulous, with an outburst of abuse at old -Hopkins, who never could be made to hear. - -“Send for Langton,” Mr. Chester said. - -“It’s the middle of the night, please sir,” old Hopkins replied. - -“Send for Langton,” repeated the voice. It had a curious stammer in it; -a sibilant sound. “S--s--send for Langton,” with another torrent of -exclamations. - -The old butler hurried out of the room, muttering to himself, “It will -be half an hour before I can wake one of those grooms, and he’ll take -the skin off me before that. Miss Winifred, oh, it’s only the doctor he -wants; it’s nothing out of the common!” - -“I will go,” she said. - -“You? But it’s the middle of the night, and not a soul awake.” - -“Is he very ill? Tell me the truth. I will go quicker than any one -else.” - -“Miss Winifred, you’ve no call to be frightened. He’s been the same -fifty times. He don’t want the doctor no more than I do. Oh, goodness, -there he is at it again!” - -Then the bell sent a wild, irritated peal into the air, which evidently -ended abruptly in the breaking of the bell-rope. - -“I will go!” Winifred said, and the old man, relieved, hurried back to -his master. She put on quickly a long ulster, which covered her from -head to foot, and hurried out into the strange coolness and freshness of -the unawakened world. There was no need, she said to herself, but it -was a relief and almost pleasure to do something. The great stillness, -the feeling of the dawn, the faint blue-tinted atmosphere, a something -which came before the light, all breathed peace about her. It was like a -disembodied world, another state of existence in which nothing real or -tangible was. She flew along, the only creature moving save those too -early, questioning birds, and felt in herself a curious elevation above -mortal boundaries, as if she too was disembodied and could move like a -spirit. The strange abstractedness of the atmosphere, the keen yet soft -coolness, the unimaginable solitude possessed her like a vision. She -felt no sensation of anxiety or fear, but seemed carried along upon her -errand like a creature of the air, unfamiliar with the emotions of the -world. As it happened, Langton’s groom was already preparing his -master’s horse for some early visit. He stared at Winifred as if she -had dropped from the skies, but made no remark, except that his master -would be ready instantly; and she turned back through the sleeping -village, still wrapped in the same abstraction, walking along as in a -dream. One labourer, setting out to work at distant fields, passed, and -stared dumb and awe-stricken at her, as if she had been a ghost. His was -the only figure save her own that was visible. When she was half-way -home, Edward galloped past, waving his hand to her as he hastened on. -For her part, Winifred felt that there was no longer any need to hurry. -She wandered on under the trees, where now all the birds were awake, -chatting to each other--forming their little plans for the endless -August day, the age of sunshine and sweet air before them, now that -night once more was over--before they began to sing. She was -unspeakably eased, consoled, rested by that universal tranquillity. The -dew fell upon her very heart. She lingered to look at a hundred things -which she had seen every day all her life, which she had never noticed -before. It was not sunrise as yet; the world was still a land of dreams, -waiting the revelation of the reality to come. Thus it was some time -before she reached the house, and yet she was surprised when she reached -it, having got so far away from that centre of human life with all its -throbbings, into the great quiet of the morning world. - -Something, an indefinable disturbance, a change of a kind which made -itself felt, was in the place. The door stood wide open, a scared groom -was walking Langton’s horse up and down, the windows were still closed, -except one, at which two or three indistinct figures seemed looking out. -There arose a flutter, she could not tell why, in Winifred’s breast. -She almost smiled at herself for the involuntary sensation which marked -her return from a world of visions to that of real life. Then Edward -Langton appeared coming out, as if to meet her in the open door. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prodigals and their Inheritance; -vol. 1, by Mrs. Margaret Oliphant - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRODIGALS VOL. 1 *** - -***** This file should be named 62464-0.txt or 62464-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/4/6/62464/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - -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. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at -http://gutenberg.org/license). - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -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/license - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at -http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at -809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email -business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact -information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official -page at http://pglaf.org - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit http://pglaf.org - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/62464-0.zip b/old/62464-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 07f9d05..0000000 --- a/old/62464-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62464-h.zip b/old/62464-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 50ee022..0000000 --- a/old/62464-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62464-h/62464-h.htm b/old/62464-h/62464-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 7cda5cd..0000000 --- a/old/62464-h/62464-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3185 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" -"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> - <head> <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> -<title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Prodigals -and their Inheritance; vol. 1, by Margaret Oliphant. -</title> -<style type="text/css"> - p {margin-top:.2em;text-align:justify;margin-bottom:.2em;text-indent:4%;} - -.c {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} - -.cb {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;font-weight:bold;} - -.eng {font-family: "Old English Text MT",fantasy,sans-serif;} - -.letra {font-size:250%;float:left;margin-top:-1%;} - @media print, handheld - { .letra - {font-size:250%;padding:0%;} - } - -.nind {text-indent:0%;} - -small {font-size: 70%;} - -big {font-size: 130%;} - - h1 {margin-top:5%;text-align:center;clear:both; -font-weight:normal;} - - h2 {margin-top:4%;margin-bottom:2%;text-align:center;clear:both; - font-size:100%;font-weight:normal;} - - hr.full {width: 60%;margin:2% auto 2% auto;border-top:1px solid black; -padding:.1em;border-bottom:1px solid black;border-left:none;border-right:none;} - - body{margin-left:4%;margin-right:6%;background:#ffffff;color:black;font-family:"Times New Roman", serif;font-size:medium;} - -a:link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} - - link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} - -a:visited {background-color:#ffffff;color:purple;text-decoration:none;} - -a:hover {background-color:#ffffff;color:#FF0000;text-decoration:underline;} - -.smcap {font-variant:small-caps;font-size:100%;} - - img {border:none;} - -div.poetry {text-align:center;} -div.poem {font-size:90%;margin:auto auto;text-indent:0%; -display: inline-block; text-align: left;} -.poem .stanza {margin-top: 1em;margin-bottom:1em;} -.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - -.pagenum {font-style:normal;position:absolute; -left:95%;font-size:55%;text-align:right;color:gray; -background-color:#ffffff;font-variant:normal;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;text-decoration:none;text-indent:0em;} -@media print, handheld -{.pagenum - {display: none;} - } -</style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prodigals and their Inheritance; vol. 1, by -Mrs. Margaret Oliphant - -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/license - - -Title: The Prodigals and their Inheritance; vol. 1 - -Author: Mrs. Margaret Oliphant - -Release Date: June 24, 2020 [EBook #62464] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRODIGALS VOL. 1 *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="c"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" height="550" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1" id="page_1">{1}</a></span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_2" id="page_2">{2}</a></span> </p> - -<p class="c">T H E P R O D I G A L S</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3">{3}</a></span> </p> - -<p class="c"><small>MORRISON AND GIBB, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.</small></p> - -<h1> -THE PRODIGALS<br /> -<small><small> -<i>AND THEIR INHERITANCE</i></small></small></h1> - -<p class="c"><small>BY</small><br /> -<br /> -MRS. OLIPHANT<br /> -<br /> -<small>AUTHOR OF<br /> -“CHRONICLES OF CARLINGFORD” “THE WIZARD’S SON”<br /> -ETC. ETC.</small><br /> -<br /> -<br /> -IN TWO VOLUMES<br /> -<br /> -VOL. I<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span class="eng">Methuen & Co.</span><br /> -36 ESSEX STREET, LONDON, W.C.<br /> -1894<br /></p> - -<p class="cb" style="border:3px double gray;padding:1em; -max-width:10em;margin:2em auto auto auto;"> -<a href="#CHAPTER_I">Chapter: I, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_II"> II, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_III"> III, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IV"> IV, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_V"> V, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VI"> VI, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VII"> VII, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"> VIII, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IX"> IX, </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_X"> X.</a> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4">{4}</a></span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5">{5}</a></span> </p> - -<p class="c">T H E P R O D I G A L S</p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">“I</span>S it to-night he is coming, Winnie?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, father. I have sent the dog-cart to the station.”</p> - -<p>“It was unnecessary, quite unnecessary. What has he to do with dog-carts -or any luxury? He should have been left to find his way as best he -could. It is not many dog-carts he will find waiting at his beck and -call. That sort of indulgence, it is only putting nonsense in his head, -and making him think I don’t mean what I say.”</p> - -<p>“But, father”—</p> - -<p>“Don’t father me. Why don’t you speak<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6">{6}</a></span> like other girls in your -position? You have always been brought up to be a lady; you ought to use -the same words that ladies use. And mind you, Winifred, don’t make any -mistake, I mean what I say. Tom can talk, none better, but he will not -get over me; I have washed my hands of him. So long as I thought these -boys were going to do me credit I spared nothing on them; but now that I -know better—Don’t let him try to get over me, for it is no use.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, papa, he is still so young; he has done nothing very bad, only -foolishness, only what you used to say all young men did.”</p> - -<p>“Things are come to a pretty pass,” said the father, “when girls like -you, who call themselves modest girls, take up the defence of a -blackguard like Tom.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7">{7}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“He is not a blackguard,” cried the girl colouring to her hair.</p> - -<p>“You are an authority on the subject, I suppose? But perhaps I know a -little better. He and his brother have taken me in—me, a man that never -was taken in in my life before! but now I wash my hands of them both. -There’s the money for his journey and the letter to Stafford. No—on -second thoughts I’ll not give him the money for his journey; he’d stay -in London and spend it, and then think there was more where that came -from. Write down the office of the Cable Line in Liverpool—he’ll get -his ticket there.”</p> - -<p>“But you’ll see him, papa?”</p> - -<p>“Why should I see him? I know what would happen—you and he together -would fling yourselves at my feet, or some of that nonsense. Yes, you’re -right—on the whole, I think I will see him, and then you’ll know<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8">{8}</a></span> once -for all how little is to be looked for from me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, papa! you do yourself injustice; your heart is kinder than you -think,” cried Winifred, with tears.</p> - -<p>Mr. Chester got up and walked from one end to the other of the long -room. It was lighted up as if for a great entertainment, though the -father and daughter were alone in it. He drew aside the curtains at the -farther end and looked out into the night.</p> - -<p>“Raining,” he said. “He would have liked a fly from the station much -better than the dog-cart. These puppies with their spoiled -constitutions, they can’t support a shower. I am kinder than I think, am -I? Don’t let Tom presume on that. If I’m better than I think myself, I’m -a deal worse than you think me. And he’s cut me to the heart, he’s cut -me to the heart!” This was said with a little<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9">{9}</a></span> vehemence which looked -like feeling. He resumed, a few minutes after: “What a fine thing it -seemed for a man like me, that began in a small way, to have two sons to -be educated with the best, just as good as dukes, that would know how to -make a figure in the world and do me credit. Credit! two broken-down -young profligates, two cads that have never held up their heads, never -made friends, never done anything but spend money all their lives! What -have I done that this should happen to me? Your mother was but a poor -creature, and her family no great things; but that my boys, my sons, -should take after the Robinsons and not after me! Hold your tongue and -let me speak. It should be a warning to you whom you marry; for, mind -you, it’s not only your husband he’ll be, but the father of your -children, taking after him, perhaps, to wring your heart.” He had been -walking about the room all this time,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10">{10}</a></span> growing more and more vehement. -Now he flung himself heavily into his chair. “Yes,” he said, “it will be -better that I should see him. He’ll know then, once for all, how much he -has to expect from me.”</p> - -<p>“Papa,” cried Winifred, drying her eyes, “if my mother had lived”—</p> - -<p>“If she had lived!” he said, with a tone in which it was difficult to -distinguish whether regret or contempt most predominated. Perhaps it was -because he was taken by surprise that there was any conflict of feeling. -“We should have had some fine scenes in that case,” he added, with a -laugh. “She would have stuck to the boys through thick and thin; and -perhaps you would have been more on my side, Winnie; they say the girls -go with their father. True enough, you are the only one that takes after -me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, papa! George is the image of you.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11">{11}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>He got up again from his chair as if stung by some intolerable touch.</p> - -<p>“Hold your tongue, child!” he said hoarsely; then, seating himself with -a forced laugh, “Kin in face, sworn enemies in everything else,” he -said.</p> - -<p>The room in which this conversation went on was large but not lofty, -occupying the whole width of the house, which was an old country house -of the composite character, so usual in England, where generation after -generation adds and remodels to its fancy. It had been two rooms -according to the natural construction of the house, and the separation -between the two was marked by two pillars, one at either side, of -marble, which had been brought from some ruinous Italian palace, and -were as much out of place as could be conceived in their present -situation. The room, in general, bore the same contradictory character; -florid ornament and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12">{12}</a></span> gilt work of the most <i>baroque</i> character -alternating with articles of the latest fashion, and with pieces of -antiquity such as have become the test of taste in recent years. Mr. -Chester preferred cost above all other qualifications in the decoration -of his house, and his magnificence was bought dearly at the expense not -only of much money, but of every rule of harmony. He did not himself -mind this. It need scarcely be added that he was not the natural -proprietor of the manor-house which he had thus made gorgeous. He was a -man of great ambition who had made his fortune in trade, and whom the -desire, so universal and often so tragically foolish, though so natural, -of founding a family, had seized in a somewhat unusual way. His two sons -had received “the best education”; that is, they had been sent to a -public school and afterwards to Oxford in the most approved way. They -had not been used to much litera<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13">{13}</a></span>ture nor to a very refined atmosphere -at home, and it is possible that the very ordinary blood of the -Robinsons, their mother’s family, had more influence in their -constitutions than that fluid which their father thought of so much more -excellent quality, which came to them from the Chester fountain.</p> - -<p>The Chesters had been pushing men for at least two generations. From the -fact that their name was the same as that of their native place, it was -uncharitably reported that Mr. Chester’s grandfather had been a -foundling picked up in the streets. But as he figured in the pedigree -which hung in the hall as George Chester, Esq., of the Cloisters, -Chester, strangers at least had no right to lend an ear to any such -tale, nor to inquire whether, as report said, it was as a lay clerk that -he had found a place in that venerable locality. William Chester, the -link between this mythical<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14">{14}</a></span> personage and Mr. Chester of Bedloe Manor, -had begun the family fortunes in Liverpool half a century before, and -his son, whose education was that of a choir boy in Chester Cathedral, -as his father’s had been, established upon that foundation a solid and, -indeed, large fortune, which he had fondly hoped by means of George and -Tom to hand down to a whole prosperous family of Chesters, transformed -into landowners, great proprietors, perhaps—who could tell?—Lord -Chancellors and Prime Ministers. The disappointment which comes upon -such a man when his children, instead of doing him honour, turn out the -proverbial spendthrifts and consumers of the newly-made fortune, does -not meet with any great degree of sympathy in the world. A tacit “serve -him right” is in the minds of most people. Much righteous indignation -has been expended upon a very different matter, upon the ambition even -of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15">{15}</a></span> such a man as Scott to found a family: the moralist has been almost -glad that it came to nothing, that the children of the great man were -nobodies, that his hope was a mere dream. And how much more when the man -had, like George Chester, nothing but his money and a certain strenuous -determination and force of character to recommend him!</p> - -<p>But the disappointment was not less bitter to the new man than if he had -been a monarch mourning over a degenerate son. Neither George nor Tom -did anything but get into scrapes at the University. They had no heads -for books, and they had the habit of rash expenditure, of -self-indulgence, of considering themselves masters of everything that -could be bought. Mr. Chester would have taken their extravagance in -perfectly good part, he would have winked at their peccadilloes and -forgiven everything had they<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16">{16}</a></span> done him credit as he said: nor was he -very particular as to the nature of the credit; had either manifested -any capacity for taking university prizes, or a good degree, that, -though he would have understood it little, would have delighted him. Had -they rowed in the eight or played in the eleven, he would have been -doubly proud of the distinction. Failing those legitimate paths to -honour, had they brought a rabble of the young aristocracy to Bedloe, -had they gone visiting to great houses, had they found a place even -among the train of any young duke or conspicuous person, he was so -easily pleased that he would have been content. But they did none of -these things. George, with the beautiful voice, of which his father was -not proud, since it awakened memories of hereditary talent which he did -not wish to keep before men’s minds, had not used this gift as a way of -making entrance into select circles, but roared it out in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17">{17}</a></span> undergraduate -parties made up of clergymen’s sons, of young schoolmasters, of people, -as he said bitterly, no better, nay, not so good as himself; and made -friends with the lower class of the musical people, the lay clerks at -the Cathedral, the people who gave local concerts. He was quite ready to -join them, to sing with them, to take his pleasure among them, with a -return to all the old habits of the singing men at Chester, which was -bitterness to the father’s soul. It scarcely made it any worse that -George fell into ways of dissipation and went wrong as well. <i>That</i> his -father, perhaps, might have forgiven him had it been done in better -company; but as it was, the sin was unpardonable. When news came to -Bedloe that George was about to marry a poor organist’s daughter, the -proceedings Mr. Chester took were very summary; he stopped his son’s -allowance instantly, provided him with a clerk<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18">{18}</a></span>ship at Sydney, and sent -him off to the end of the world, requesting only that he might see him -no more.</p> - -<p>Then Tom became his hope. Tom had aspirations higher than George’s, but -he went, if possible, more hopelessly astray. Tom had, or seemed to -have, something more of fancy and imagination than belonged to the rest -of his family. He was the clever one, bound, or so at least his father -hoped, to make a figure in the world; but he was idle, he was sarcastic -and hot-tempered, he quarrelled with everybody whom he ought to have -conciliated, and supported the company only of those who flattered and -agreed with him, and helped him to gratify his various tastes and -inclinations, which were not virtuous. If George had fallen among the -lower class of professionals, Tom’s company was, his father declared, -composed of the out-scourings of the earth. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19">{19}</a></span> when the inevitable -moment came in which Tom was plucked (or ploughed, as the word varies), -his father’s bitter disappointment and disgust came to the same result -as in his brother’s case. The civil letter in which his tutor lamented -Tom’s foolishness exasperated Mr. Chester almost to madness. No doubt he -had bragged in his day of his two boys who were to carry all before -them, and his humiliation was all the more hard to bear. He was -uncompromising and remorseless in the revenge he took. According to his -code, he who failed was the most criminal of mankind. Whatever a man -might do, so long as he attained something, if it were no more than -notoriety, there were hopes of him; but failure was insupportable to the -man of business—the self-made, and self-sustaining.</p> - -<p>It was with a pang that he gave up the <span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20">{20}</a></span>idea of all possibility as -regarded his sons; but he did so with the same decision and promptitude -with which he would have rejected a bad investment. He had still a -child, who was, indeed, one of the inferior sex, a mere girl, not for a -moment to be considered in the same light as a son, had the sons been -worthy, but something to fall back upon when they failed. Winifred, so -long as the boys were in the foreground of their father’s life, had cost -him little trouble. She had been so fortunate as to be provided with a -good governess when her mother died; and, unnoticed, unthought of, had -grown up into fair and graceful womanhood—in mind and manners the child -of the poor gentlewoman who had trained her, and who still remained in -the house as her companion and friend. Insensibly it had become apparent -to Mr. Chester that Winnie was the one member of his family who was not -a failure. The society around, the people whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21">{21}</a></span> he reverenced as county -people, but despised as not so rich as himself, received her with -genuine regard and friendship, even when they received himself with but -formal civility. As for George and Tom, not even their prospective -wealth during their time of favour had commended them to the county -neighbours, whose pride Mr. Chester cursed, yet regarded with -superstitious admiration. Winifred had broken through the stiffness of -these exclusive circles, but no one else; and even while he fumed over -the downfall of Tom, he had begun to console himself with the success of -Winnie. At the recent county ball she had been, if not the beauty, at -least the favourite of the evening. Lord Eden himself had complimented -her father upon her looks. He had tasted the sweetness of social success -for the first time by her means. All was not then lost. He condemned -Tom, as he had condemned George, by attainder and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22">{22}</a></span> confiscation of all -his rights; and Winifred was elected to the post of heir and -representative of the Chesters. Perhaps the decision gave the father -himself a pang. It was coming down in the world. A man with his sons -about him has something of which to be glorious—but a mere girl! At the -best it was a humiliation. But in default of anything better it was -still a mode of triumph, after all. It secured his revenge upon the -worthless boys who had done nothing for his name, and a place among -those who recognised in Winnie, if not in any other member of the -family, their equal in one way, their superior in another.</p> - -<p>He was a man of rapid conclusions, and he had made up his mind on this -point on the evening of the day on which he had heard of Tom’s -disgrace—for disgrace he had felt it to be, accepting no consolation -from the fact that many young men not thereafter to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23">{23}</a></span> be despised met -with the same fate. He would not allow his son to return home, but had -his fate intimated to him at once by the solicitor whom Mr. Chester -chose to employ in business of this sort. It was to New Zealand this -time that the unfortunate was to be sent. His passage-money and fifty -pounds, and a desk in an office when he reached his destination—this -was the fate of the unhappy youth, fresh from all indulgences and -follies. No hope even was held out to him of ever retrieving his lost -position; and Tom knew with what remorseless decision George had already -been cut off. Perhaps he had not lamented as he might have done his -brother’s punishment, which left such admirable prospects to himself, -but it left no doubt on his mind as to his own fate. He had asked, what -George had not had the courage to ask, that he might come home and take -farewell of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24">{24}</a></span> his sister, at least. And this had been granted to him. If -any forlorn hope was in his mind of being able to touch the heart of his -father, it was a very forlorn hope indeed, and one which he scarcely -ventured to whisper even to himself.</p> - -<p>He had arrived at the country station which was nearest Bedloe while his -father and sister were talking of him, and had been received by the -groom with that somewhat ostentatious sympathy and regard for his -comfort with which servants are wont to show a consciousness of the -situation. The groom was very anxious that Mr. Tom should be protected -from the rain, the soft, continuous drizzle of a spring night. “I’ve -brought your waterproof, sir; the roads is heavy, and we’ll be a long -time getting home”—</p> - -<p>“Never mind the waterproof,” said Tom; “I like the rain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25">{25}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“It’s cooling, sir; but after a while, when you’re soaked through—if -you get a chill, sir?”</p> - -<p>“It don’t matter much,” said Tom. “How are they all at home?”</p> - -<p>“Pretty nicely,” said the man, “though Mrs. Pierce do say that she don’t -like master’s looks, and Miss Winifred is that pale except when she -flushes up”—</p> - -<p>“How’s Bayleaf?” This was Tom’s hunter which he never mounted, yet felt -a certain property in all the same.</p> - -<p>“Nothing to brag of, sir. That poor animal, he’s like a Christian. He -knows as well when there’s something up”—</p> - -<p>“You had better drive on,” said Tom. “How dark it is!”</p> - -<p>“It’s all the rain, sir, like as if the skies themselves—But we’re glad -as the equinoctials is over, and you’ll have a good season for your<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26">{26}</a></span> -voyage. Shall you see Mr. George, sir, where you are going?”</p> - -<p>At this Tom laughed, with a most unmirthful outburst. “No,” he said; -“that’s the fun of the thing—he in one country and I in another. It’s -all very nicely settled for us.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s hope, sir,” said the man, “that when things get a little more -civilised there will be a railway or something. We should all like to -send our respects and duty to Mr. George.”</p> - -<p>To this Tom made no reply. He was not in a very cheerful mood, nor did -this conversation tend to elevate his spirits. There was nothing -adventurous in his disposition. The distant voyage, the new world, the -banishment from all those haunts in which he could find his favourite -enjoyments, with an occasional compunction, indeed, but nothing strong -enough to disturb the tenor of his way, were terrible<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27">{27}</a></span> anticipations to -him. Some lurking hope there was still in his mind that his fate was -impossible; that such a catastrophe could not really be about to happen; -that his father would relent at the sight of him or at Winnie’s prayers. -It did not enter into Tom’s thoughts that Winnie would ever forsake him. -The thought of her own advantage would not move her. He was aware that, -in the question of George, it had more or less moved himself, and that -he had not, perhaps, thrown all that energy into his intercession for -his brother which he hoped and believed Winnie would employ for himself. -But then he had feared to irritate his father, who would bear more from -Winnie than from any one. At this moment, while he drove shivering -through the rain,—shivering with nervous depression rather than with -cold, for the evening was mild enough,—he had no doubt that she was -doing her best for him. And was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28">{28}</a></span> it possible that his father could hold -out, that he could see the last of his sons go away to the ends of the -earth without emotion? The very groom was sorry for him, Bayleaf was -drooping in sympathy, the skies themselves weeping over his fate. When -the fate is our own, it is wonderful how natural it seems that heaven -and earth should be moved for us. In George’s case he had seen the other -side of the question. In his own the pity of it was far the most -powerful. His mind was almost overwhelmed by the prospect before him, -but as he drove along in the rain, with the groom’s compassionate voice -by his side in the dark, expressing now and then a respectful and veiled -sympathy, there flickered before Tom’s eyes a faint little light of -hope. Surely, surely, this, though it had happened to his brother, could -not happen to him? Surely the father’s heart was not hard enough, or -fate terrible enough, to inflict such<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29">{29}</a></span> a punishment upon <i>him</i>? Others, -perhaps, might deserve it, might be able to bear it; but he—how could -he bear it? Tom said to himself that in his case it was impossible, and -could not be.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30">{30}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span>N family troubles such as that which we have indicated, it is generally -a woman who is the chief sufferer. She stands between the conflicting -parties, and, whether she is mother or sister, suffers for both, unable -to soften judgment on one hand, or to reduce rebellion on the other; or -else securing a ground of reconciliation by entreaties and tears which -she would not use on her own behalf, and often by the sacrifice of her -own reason and power of judging, and conscious humiliation to all the -imbecilities of peace-making. A woman in such circumstances has to -pledge herself for reformations in which, alas! her heart has but<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31">{31}</a></span> -little faith. She has to persuade the angry father that his son has -erred less than appears, to invent a thousand excuses, to exhaust -herself in palliation of offences which are far more offensive and -terrible to her than to him whose wrath she deprecates; and she has to -convince the impatient and resentful son that his father is acting -rather in love than in anger, and that his sins have wounded as much as -they have exasperated. Those women who have no judgment of their own to -exercise, and who can believe everything, are the happiest in this -ever-returning necessity: and indeed in many complications of life it is -much better for all parties that the woman should be without judgment, -the soft and boneless angel of conventional romance. Winifred Chester -was not of this kind. She was a just and tender-hearted woman, full of -affection and compassion, to whom nature gave the hard task of -mediating<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32">{32}</a></span> between two parties whose conflicting errors she was, alas! -but too well able to estimate—the father, whose indignation and rage -were in fact sufficiently just, yet so little righteous, and her -brothers, of whom she knew that they neither felt any real compunction -nor intended any amendment. There is, let us hope, some special -indulgence for those luckless advocates of erring men who have to -promise amendment which they can put no faith in, and plead excuses -which to their own minds have no validity.</p> - -<p>After the conversation which had been held in the great drawing-room, -when Mr. Chester settled himself to a study of the evening papers which -had just been brought in, Winifred left the room softly, and stole -upstairs to the window of her brother’s room, which commanded the -avenue, and from which she could see his approach. The room was faintly -lit with firelight and full of all the luxurious<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33">{33}</a></span> contrivances for -comfort to which a rich man’s sons are accustomed. Poor Tom! what would -he do without them all, without the means of procuring them? Poor -George! what was he doing, he who now had some years’ experience of work -and poverty? She stole behind the drawn curtains and looked out upon the -darkness and the falling rain. There was little light in the wild -landscape, and no sound but that of the rain pattering upon the thick -ivy which clothed the older part of the house, and streaming silently -down upon the trees, which were still bare, though swelling at every -point with the sap of spring. The air was soft and warm; the rain and -the darkness full of a wild sense of fertility and growth. Winifred’s -imagination depicted to her only too clearly the state of half-despair, -yet unconviction, in which her brother’s mind would be. He would not -believe it was possible, and yet he would know. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34">{34}</a></span> was very well aware -that his father was remorseless, yet he would not be able to understand -how ruin could overtake <i>him</i>. The circumstances brought back before her -vividly the other occasion on which she had implored in vain the -reversal of the sentence on her elder brother. George, too, had been -taken by surprise. He had not believed it, and when at last he was -convinced, had burst forth into wild defiance and consuming wrath. But -Tom would probably be less simple, and not manly at all: he would never -believe that all was over, that it was not possible to make another and -another appeal.</p> - -<p>Winifred stood and watched for his coming, feeling that if by any will -of hers she could bring about an accident, either to delay her brother’s -arrival, or even to bring him into the house in a condition which would -compel a prolonged stay, she would have done it. Tom<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35">{35}</a></span> would have -arrived, it is to be feared, with a broken leg, or the beginnings of a -fever, could his sister have procured it or he would not have come at -all. Railway accidents occur in many cases when they do harm without -doing any good, but a railway accident which should awake some natural -movement in her father’s mind, which should perhaps make him anxious, -which would force him to exert himself on Tom’s behalf—what an -advantage that would be! Alas! such things do not come when people wish -for them. A broken arm or leg, what a small price to pay for the moral -advantages of reawakened interest, anxiety, the softening charm of an -illness and convalescence! No father could turn out of his house the -wounded boy who was brought home to be cured.</p> - -<p>But Winifred’s wishes, it need not be said, were quite unavailing. By -and by she heard<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36">{36}</a></span> the steady tread of the horse, the roll of the wheels -over those little heaps of gravel with which the avenue was being -mended. Evidently Tom was coming, without any interposition of -Providence, to his fate. She ran softly down the stairs to meet him and -prevent any unnecessary sound or attempt to usher the returning prodigal -into his father’s presence. The door was open, the waterproof of the -groom glistening in the light, and Tom scrambling down from the dog-cart -with that drenched and dejected look which is the result of a long drive -through steady and persistent rain. He scarcely looked at the butler as -he stepped past, saying, “Is my father in?” in a voice as despondent as -his appearance, and not pausing to listen as the man began to explain—</p> - -<p>“Master is at home, sir, but”—</p> - -<p>“Tom! Oh, how wet you are! You must run upstairs and change first of -all.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37">{37}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“I shall do nothing of the kind. I suppose there is a fire somewhere,” -said Tom. “Where are you sitting? in the dining-room? No supper for me. -I don’t want any supper. To arrive like this is calculated to give a -fellow an appetite, don’t you think?”</p> - -<p>Winifred put her arm through her brother’s, wet though he was. She -whispered, “Don’t say anything before the servants,” as she led him -towards the open door of the room in which the table was laid for him -before the shining fire. Tom was mollified by the second glance at its -comfort and brightness.</p> - -<p>“It looks warm here,” he said, suffering her to guide him. “Though why I -should mind warm or cold I don’t know. Look here, Winnie. There is this -interview with the governor; I’d better get it over, don’t you think?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Tom, come in and get warmed and eat something.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38">{38}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Is it going to be very bad, then?” the young man said.</p> - -<p>“I think,” said Winifred anxiously, “you had much better change those -wet clothes; your room is ready.”</p> - -<p>“Look here!” he cried; “all that about New Zealand, that’s all nonsense, -of course?” He watched the changes of her countenance as he spoke.</p> - -<p>Winifred shook her head. “Oh, Tom, I told you long ago you must never -take what my father says as nonsense. He is not that sort of man. Come -to the fire, then, if you will not change your clothes. And here is -Hopkins coming with the tray. Don’t say anything before Hopkins, Tom.”</p> - -<p>“Why shouldn’t I? If he means that, they’ll know soon enough. I don’t -believe he means it. The governor—the governor”—Tom’s voice died away -in his throat, partly because it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39">{39}</a></span> trembled, partly because of Hopkins’ -presence. “Yes, yes, that’ll do,” he said fretfully, as the butler -placed a chair for him, and stood waiting. “I don’t want anything to -eat, thank you. I’ll have a drink if you like. The governor,” he -resumed, with a sort of laugh, as Hopkins, knowing the nature of the -drink required, went off to fetch it, “would never repeat himself, -Winnie. He is not such a duffer as that. All very well once perhaps; but -to send George to Sydney and me to New Zealand—oh, that’s too much of a -good thing! I can’t believe he means it. Thank you, that’s more to the -purpose,” he added, as he took a large fizzing glass out of Hopkins’ -hand.</p> - -<p>“You need not wait. We have everything my brother will want,” said -Winifred. “Oh, Tom, what can I say to you? You know how my father had -set his heart on your success—success anyhow, he did not mind what -kind.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40">{40}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” said Tom sulkily; “you women are always harping on what is -past. I know very well I have been an ass. But there is no such dreadful -harm done after all. I’m not fifty, if you come to that, and this time -I’ll work, I really will, and get through.”</p> - -<p>Winifred said no more for the moment. She persuaded him to seat himself -at the table, to fortify himself with food. “We can talk it all over -when you have had your supper. There is plenty of time; and what a -wretched journey you must have had, Tom!”</p> - -<p>“Wretched enough, but nothing so bad as the drive from the station, with -the rain pouring down upon one, and that fellow Short pitying one all -the way. Talk of not speaking before the servants—he knew as well as I -did I was in disgrace with the governor, and was sorry for me—my own -groom! Why didn’t you let<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41">{41}</a></span> me get a fly from the station? It would have -been twenty times more comfortable.”</p> - -<p>“That is what my father said,” said Winifred, with a smile.</p> - -<p>“Oh, he thought of that, did he? The governor has a great deal of -sense,” said Tom, brightening a little. “He understands a fellow better -than you can. I don’t say anything against you, Win; you are always as -good as you know how.”</p> - -<p>Winifred looked at her brother with a tremulous smile of wonder and -pity. Nothing could be more forlorn than his appearance; the steam -rising from his wet coat, his hair limp on his forehead, his colourless -face more eloquent of anxiety and suspense than his words were. He -swallowed with difficulty the dainty food, the dish he specially liked, -and pushed his chair from the table with relief.</p> - -<p>“Am I to see him to-night?” he said. “If<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42">{42}</a></span> it’s got to be, the sooner the -better. It will be a thing well over.”</p> - -<p>“Tom,”—Winifred’s voice faltered, she could hardly say what she had to -say,—“I am afraid it is all a great deal worse than you think. He did -not want to see you at all, and if he has consented at last, it is -chiefly because he thinks you will then be convinced how little you have -to expect.”</p> - -<p>Tom’s countenance fell, and then he made an effort to recover himself, -and laughed. “Nobody ever was so hard as the governor looks,” he said; -“he wants to frighten me, I know that.”</p> - -<p>He looked anxiously in her eyes, and Winifred’s eyes were not -encouraging. Her brother broke out again with a stifled oath. “You can’t -mean me to suppose that that about New Zealand is true, Winnie? You -don’t mean that?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43">{43}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Dear Tom!” Winifred said, with tears in her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Don’t dear Tom me! That’s not natural, you don’t mean it. Good heavens! -I’d sooner you were taking your fun out of me, if it was a moment for -that. I won’t go! I’m not a child to be ordered about like that. I tell -you I won’t go!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Tom! if you could but do anything at home; if you would but let him -see that you could manage for yourself! That might be of some use, if -you could do it, Tom.”</p> - -<p>“I won’t go,” he repeated hoarsely, “to the other end of the world, away -from everything I care for! There is a limit to everything. You can tell -him I won’t do that. And all for what? For having been unlucky about my -books, as half the men in the university have been one time or the -other. What does it matter being ploughed? It happens every<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44">{44}</a></span> day. -Winnie, I swear to you I’ll work like—like a navvy, if I can only have -another chance.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Tom, I have said everything, I have tried every way. I think if you -were to do as you said just now, say to him that you won’t go to New -Zealand, that you can manage for yourself at home, that would be your -best chance. Show him that you can maintain yourself, do something, -write something, it does not matter what it is”—</p> - -<p>“Maintain myself?” said Tom. He had left his seat, and was standing in -front of the fire, his pale face and dishevelled, damp hair showing -against the black marble of the mantelpiece; his eyes had a bewildered -and discomfited look. “Do something? It is so easy to talk. What am I to -do? Write? I am not one of the fellows that can write. I have never been -used to that sort of thing. I say, Winnie, for Go<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45">{45}</a></span>d’s sake speak to my -father! I can’t, I can’t go to that dreadful place.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Tom!” she cried, turning her head away.</p> - -<p>To see him standing there, helpless, feeble, sure only of one thing, and -that that he himself was good for nothing, was like a sword in this -young woman’s heart. It is the most horrible of all the tortures that -women have to bear, to see the men belonging to them, whom they would so -fain look up to, breaking down into ruinous failure. He gave her a -distracted look, and when she withdrew her eyes, went and plucked her by -the sleeve. “Winnie, for Heaven’s sake tell my father! It’s all dreadful -to me: I can’t work in an office; I can’t go a long voyage. I hate the -sea, I am not strong, not a man that can rough it and knock about. -George was different, he was always that sort of fellow; and then he’s -married. Winnie, speak for me. You can do it if you like.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46">{46}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“I have done nothing else ever since he told me, Tom, and I dare not say -any more. He will not listen, he says he will send me away too. I -shouldn’t care for that if I could help you, but I can’t—I can’t. It is -almost worse for me, for I can do nothing—nothing!”</p> - -<p>“Oh no,” said Tom; “don’t make believe, Winnie. Worse for you?—Why, -what does it matter to you? While I am out at sea, perhaps in danger of -my life, you’ll be snug at home, with everything that heart can desire. -And who is he going to leave his money to, if he casts me off? You? Oh, -I see it all now! Why should you speak for me? It’s against your own -interests. I see it all now.”</p> - -<p>She could only look at him with an appeal for pity in her eyes. She -could not protest that her own interests were little in her mind. There -are some things which it is impossible to say, as it ought to be -needless to say them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47">{47}</a></span> Tom for his part worked himself up to an outburst -of miserable, artificial rage which it is to be supposed was a relief to -his excitement.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it is you that are to be his heir?” he cried. “A girl! I might have -known. No wonder you don’t speak up for me, when it’s all in your own -favour. I’m to be cut off, and George is to be cut off, all for you! Oh, -I might have known! A girl is always at home, wriggling and wriggling -into favour, cutting out the lawful heirs. And what does he think he’s -going to make of you, that haven’t even a name of your own, that are no -more good for the family than a stranger? George wasn’t enough, I might -have had the sense to see that—there was me that had to be got rid of -too, and now you’ve done it; now you have succeeded. Yes, yes! and this -is Winnie!” he cried in a burst of despairing rage. “Winnie! I thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48">{48}</a></span> -Winnie was my friend whoever failed me; and all this time you were -plotting to get rid of me too!”</p> - -<p>Tom had been advancing towards her, gesticulating with fury, his hand -raised, his blood-shot eyes gleaming, when the door opened suddenly. In -a moment he fell back, his hand dropped by his side, the look as of a -beaten hound came into his eyes. Mr. Chester had come in, and set his -back against the door.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49">{49}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HEY were little, and he was tall; they were slight of form, and he was -massive and big—a vigorous man with a great “wind of going” about him, -like one who could push through every difficulty, and make his way. He -stood against the door, and looked at them; a man who felt more life in -him than was in both put together, to whom they were nobodies, -insignificant creatures whom he could make or unmake at his pleasure. He -looked at his son with contempt unmixed with pity. He was not touched by -Tom’s miserable looks, his air of hopeless dejection, or furtive, -trembling hope. And for the moment Winifred’s want of size<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50">{50}</a></span> and -importance struck him more than the fact which had been forced upon him, -that she had done him credit. He despised them both, the products of a -smaller race than his own, taking after their mother, like the -Robinsons. The Chesters were a better race in point of thews and sinews, -though nobody knew very well from what illegitimate source these sinews -came.</p> - -<p>“Look here!” he said; “I don’t permit you to bully your sister. What’s -she done to you? She has always stood up for you a deal more than you -deserve. If I let you come here at all, it was because she insisted upon -it. I never could see what was the use of it, for my part.”</p> - -<p>Tom’s rage had been subdued in a moment. He was supposed to be a being -of small will, unable to restrain himself; but he was capable of an -effort of the will when it was necessary,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51">{51}</a></span> as most people are. He looked -at his father with a piteous desire to conciliate and touch his heart. -“I thought,” he said, “papa,—I hope you’ll forgive me,—that I had a -right to come here.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t call me papa, sir. I like <i>her</i> to do it, since others do it; but -when do you ever find a man with such a word in his mouth? Not that I -have to learn for the first time to-day that you are no man, and nothing -manlike is to be expected from you. No, I don’t see what right you have -here. If it had been your great-grandfather’s house, as many people -think, you might have had a certain right; but it’s my house, bought -with my money—and I have washed my hands of you.” He had been a little -vehement at first, but now was perfectly calm, delivering his sentences -with his hands in his pockets, looking down contemptuously upon his -son.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52">{52}</a></span></p> - -<p>“I know, sir, that you have a right to be angry”—Tom began.</p> - -<p>“I am not angry. I don’t care enough about it. So long as there was some -hope of you, I might be angry, but now that you’ve gone and made a fool -of me—the rich man that tried to make a gentleman of his son!—I might -as well have tried to make a gentleman of Winnie. As soon as I -understand it, that’s enough, and I’ve learned my lesson, thank you. You -are no good, and I have washed my hands of you.”</p> - -<p>“Father, I know I have been an ass. You can’t say more to me than I have -said to myself. And I’ve learned my lesson too. Give me another chance, -and I’ll do all you wish,” he cried, holding up his hands, almost -falling on his knees.</p> - -<p>“Come, I’m not going to have a scene out of the theatre,” said Mr. -Chester roughly. “I’ve given you all you have a right to ask of me<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53">{53}</a></span>—a -start in the world. When I was your age, fifty pounds in my pocket would -have seemed a fortune to me. And if you like,—there’s no better field -for a young man than New Zealand,—you may come home in twenty years -with as many thousands as you have pounds to take with you, or hundreds -of thousands if you have luck. The only thing is to exert yourself. -You’d thank me for the chance if you had any spirit. That’s all, I -think, there is to say. Winnie will tell you the rest. Cable Line, -Liverpool—I’ve taken you a first-class cabin, though on principle I -should have sent you in the steerage. Good luck to you, my boy! Work and -you’ll do well. Winnie will tell you the rest.”</p> - -<p>“Father, you are not going to throw me overboard like this?” cried the -miserable young man, rushing forward as Mr. Chester turned round to open -the door.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54">{54}</a></span></p> - -<p>“You are going to the bottom as fast as you can, and I throw you into -the lifeboat, which is a very different matter. You’ll find a decent -salary and an honest way of getting your living on the other side. Only -don’t think any more of Bedloe and that sort of thing. Good-bye. If you -do well, you can send Winnie word; if not”—He gave a shrug of his -shoulders. “Farewell to you, once for all: don’t think I am either to be -coaxed or bullied. What’s done is done, and I make no new beginnings. -Get him up in time once in his life, and let him leave to-morrow by the -first train, Winnie. I shall have to speak to Hopkins if I cannot trust -you.”</p> - -<p>“Let him stay to-morrow. Oh, papa! don’t you see how ill he is -looking—how miserable he is? Let him stay to-morrow; let him get used -to the idea, papa.”</p> - -<p>“I must speak to Hopkins, I see,” Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55">{55}</a></span> Chester said. “Hopkins, Mr. Tom -is going off to-morrow by the first train—see that he is not late. If -he misses that, he will lose his ship; and if you let him miss it, it -will be the worse for you. That’s enough, I hope. Tom, good-bye.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t—I can’t get ready at a day’s notice. I have got no outfit—I -have nothing”—</p> - -<p>“All that’s been thought of,” said Mr. Chester, waving his hand. “Winnie -will tell you. Good-bye!”</p> - -<p>He left the brother and sister alone with a light step and a hard heart. -They could hear him whistling to himself as he went away. When Mr. -Chester whistled, the household trembled. The sound convinced Tom more -than anything that had been said. He threw himself down in the great -easy-chair by the fire, and covered his face with his hands. What the -sounds were that misery brought from his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56">{56}</a></span> convulsed bosom we need not -pause to describe. Sobs or curses, what does it matter? He was in the -lowest deep of wretchedness—wretchedness which he had never believed -in, which had seemed to him impossible. He could not say that it was -impossible any longer, but still it seemed incredible, beyond all powers -of belief. His sister flew to him to comfort him, and wept over him, -notwithstanding the insult he had offered her; and he himself forgot, -which was more wonderful, and clung to her as to his only consolation. -Misery of this kind which has no nobleness in it, but only weakness, -cowardice—compunction in which is no repentance—are of all things in -the world the most terrible to witness. And Winnie loved her brother, -and felt everything that was unworthy in him to the bottom of her heart.</p> - -<p>Next morning he went away with red eyes and a pallid face and quivering -lips. It was all<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57">{57}</a></span> he could do to keep up the ordinary forms of composure -as he crossed the threshold of his father’s house. He was sorry for -himself with an acute and miserable anguish, broken down, without any -higher thought to support him. He never believed it would have come to -this. He could not believe it now, though it had come. He feared the -voyage, the unknown world, the unaccustomed confinement, every thing -that was before him; that he should be no longer the young master, but a -mere clerk; that he should have to work for his living; that all his -little false importance was gone; that he should be presently, he who -could not endure the sea, sick and miserable on a long voyage. All these -details drifted across his mind in the midst of the current of miserable -consciousness that all was over with him, and the impulse of frenzied -resistance that now and then rose in his mind, resistance that meant<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58">{58}</a></span> -nothing, that could make no stand against inexorable fact.</p> - -<p>Winifred stood at the door as long as he was in sight; but the horse was -fresh and went fast, which was a relief. She stood there still with the -fresh damp morning air in her face, after the wheels had ceased to sound -in the avenue. It was a dull morning after the rain, but the air was -full of the sensation of spring, the grass growing visibly, the buds -loosening from their brown husks on the trees, the birds twittering -multitudinous, all full of hope in the outside world, all dismal in that -which was within. Many people envied Winifred Chester—and if her father -carried out his intention, and made her the heir of all his wealth, many -more would envy and many court the young mistress of Bedloe; but Winnie -felt there was scarcely any woman she knew with whom she might not -profitably change places at this moment of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59">{59}</a></span> life. There was old Miss -Farrell, sitting serenely among her wools and silks, anxious about -nothing but a new pattern, amusing herself with the recollections of the -past which she recounted to her favourite and best pupil, day after day, -as they sat together. Winifred knew them all, yet was never tired of -these chapters in life. Though Miss Farrell was sixty and Winnie only -twenty-three, she thought she would gladly change places with her -companion—or with the woman at the lodge who had sick children for whom -to work and mend. No one in the world, she thought, had at that moment a -burden so heavy as her own. She was called in after a while to Mr. -Chester’s room, which was a large and well-filled library, though its -books were little touched except by herself. He was seated there as -usual surrounded by local papers,—attending the moment when the <i>Times</i> -should arrive with its more authoritative<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60">{60}</a></span> views,—with many letters and -telegrams on his table; for though he went seldom to business, he still -kept the threads in his hand. He demanded from her an account of Tom’s -departure, listening with an appearance of enjoyment.</p> - -<p>“It is the best thing that could happen to him,” he said, “if there is -anything in him at all. If there isn’t, of course he will go to the -wall—but so he would do anyhow.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, papa! He is your son.”</p> - -<p>“And what of that? He’s no more like me than Hopkins is. You are the -only one that is like me. I have sent for Babington to make another -will.”</p> - -<p>“I do not want your money, papa.”</p> - -<p>“Softly, young woman; nobody is offering it to you. I don’t mean to be -like King Lear. Indeed, for anything I know, I may marry, and put all -your noses out of joint. But in the meantime<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61">{61}</a></span>”—</p> - -<p>“I will never supplant my brother,” said Winifred. “I will never take -what does not belong to me. I wish you would dispose of it otherwise, -father. It is yours to do what you like with it; but I have a will of my -own too.”</p> - -<p>“That you have,” he said with a smile; “that’s one of the things I like -in you. Not like that cur, that could do nothing but shiver and cringe -and cry.”</p> - -<p>“Tom did not cry,” she exclaimed indignantly. “He did not think you -could have the heart. And how could you have the heart? Your own son! I -ask myself sometimes whether you have any heart at all.”</p> - -<p>“Ask away; you are at liberty to form your own opinion,” he said -good-humouredly. “If that fellow had faced me as you do, now—but mind -you, Winnie, if you go against me, I am not so partial to you but that I -shall take means<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62">{62}</a></span> to have my own way. What I have, nobody in this world -has any right to but myself. I have made it every penny, and I shall -dispose of it as I please. If you think you will be able to do what you -like with it after I am gone, you’re mistaken; take care—there are ways -in which you can displease me now, as much as Tom has done. So you had -better think a little of your own affairs.”</p> - -<p>She looked at him with startled eyes.</p> - -<p>“I don’t wish to displease you, papa—I don’t know”—</p> - -<p>“Not what I mean perhaps? Remember that the sort of match which might be -good enough for Winnie with two brothers over her head, might not be fit -for Miss Chester of Bedloe. I don’t want to say any more.”</p> - -<p>This silenced Winifred, whatever it might mean. She said no more, but -withdrew hastily, with a paleness and discomfiture which was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63">{63}</a></span> little -like the grief and indignation with which she entered the room. Her -father looked after her with a chuckle.</p> - -<p>“That has settled her, I hope,” he said to himself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64">{64}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">M</span>ISS FARRELL came home next day from her visit. She was a little old -lady of the period when people became old early, and assumed the dress -and the habits of age before it was at all necessary. She was about -sixty, but she had been distinctly an old lady for ten years. She wore a -cap coming close round her face, and tied under her chin. Whenever she -had the least excuse for doing so, she wore a shawl, an article the -putting on of which she considered to afford one of many proofs whether -or not the wearer was “a lady,” which was to Miss Farrell something more -than a mere question of birth. She was very neat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_65" id="page_65">{65}</a></span> very small, very -light-hearted, seeing the best in everything. Even Mr. Chester, though -she saw as little of him as possible, she was able to talk about as -“your dear father” to her pupil; for, to be sure, whatever might be the -opinion of other people, every father ought to be dear to his own child. -Miss Farrell had gone on living at Bedloe since Winifred’s education was -finished, for no particular reason,—at least, for no reason but love. -She was a person full of prejudices in favour of aristocracy and against -persons of low birth, but she was sufficiently natural to be quite -inconsistent, and contradict herself whenever it pleased her—for, as a -matter of fact, she preferred Winifred Chester, who was of no family at -all, to several young ladies of the caste of Vere de Vere, whom she had -formerly had under her care. How she had managed to “get on” with Mr. -Chester was a problem to many people, and why she could<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_66" id="page_66">{66}</a></span> choose to stay -in the house of an individual so little congenial. As a matter of fact, -it was not so difficult as people supposed. She was a woman who -systematically put the best interpretation upon everything, moved -thereto not only by natural inclination, but by profound policy; for it -did not consist with Miss Farrell’s dignity ever to suppose, or to allow -any one to suppose, that it was possible for her to be slighted. She -would permit no possibility of offence to herself. It occasionally -happened that people had bad manners, which was so very much worse for -themselves than for any one else. Miss Farrell had made up her mind from -the beginning of her career never to accept a slight, nor to look upon -herself as a dependant. If offence was so thrust upon her that she could -not refuse to be aware of it, she left the house at once; but on less -serious occasions presented a serene obtuseness, apologising to others -for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_67" id="page_67">{67}</a></span> the peculiarities which were “such a pity,” or the “want of tact” -which was so unfortunate. In this way she had overawed persons more -confident in their own <i>savoir faire</i> than Mr. Chester. She had always -been admirable in her own sphere, and the alarm of an anxious mother who -had obtained such a treasure, lest the peace of the house should be -endangered by the sudden departure of the governess, may be supposed. -Once it had occurred to her in her life to be compelled to take this -strong step. She never required to do it again. As for Winifred, it was -long since the relation of pupil and teacher had been over between them; -but the motherless girl of the <i>parvenu</i>, to whom she went with -reluctance, and chiefly out of compassion, had entirely gained the heart -of the proud and tender little woman. She did not hesitate to say that -Winifred was beyond all rules.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_68" id="page_68">{68}</a></span></p> - -<p>“It does not matter who her father was—I have always thought the mother -must have been a lady,” Miss Farrell said, with a conception of the case -very different from that of the master of the house. “But at all events -Winifred is—born. I never said I insisted upon a number of quarterings. -I don’t care who was her great-grandfather—nothing could be worse than -the father, if you come to that; but she is a lady—as good as the -Queen.”</p> - -<p>“You have made her so,” said the wife of the Rector, who was her -confidante.</p> - -<p>“No one can make a lady, except the Almighty. It is a thing that has to -be born,” was the prompt reply.</p> - -<p>But, notwithstanding, Miss Farrell was able to speak to Winifred about -“your dear father,” and to look upon all the proceedings of the boys -with an indulgence which sometimes almost exasperated their sister, yet -was an<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_69" id="page_69">{69}</a></span> unspeakable consolation and support to her in the troubles of -the past years. For to have some one who will not believe any evil, who -will never appear conscious of the existence of anything that needs -concealing, who will know exactly how not to ask too many questions, yet -not to refrain from questions altogether, is, in the midst of family -trouble, a help and comfort unspeakable. Winifred’s mind was full to -overflowing when her friend came back. She had felt that it was almost -impossible to exist without speaking to some one, delivering herself of -the burden that weighed upon her. It had been a relief to have Miss -Farrell away at the moment of Tom’s visit, and to feel that no eye but -her own had looked upon her brother’s discomfiture, but it was a relief -now to meet her frank look and unhesitating question—</p> - -<p>“Well, my dear, and how about poor Tom?”</p> - -<p>“He is gone,” Winifred said, the tears coming<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_70" id="page_70">{70}</a></span> to her eyes. “He is to -sail from Liverpool to-day.”</p> - -<p>“My dear,” said Miss Farrell, “it is very natural for you to feel it, -but do you know it is the very best thing that could have happened for -him? It will no doubt be the making of him. He has never had any need to -rely on himself, he has always felt his father behind him. Now that he -is sent into the world on his own account, it will rouse all his -strength. Yes, cry, my dear, it will do you good. But I approve, for my -part. Your dear father has been very wise. He has done what was the best -for Tom.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think so? Perhaps if that were all—But it does not seem to have -been the best thing for George, and how can we tell if it will answer -with Tom?”</p> - -<p>“George, you see, has married, which brings in a new element—a great -deal more comfortable for him, but still what the gentlemen call a new<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_71" id="page_71">{71}</a></span> -factor, you know, that we are not acquainted with. Besides, he is a -different kind of boy. But Tom wants to be thrown on his own resources. -Depend upon it, my dear, it is the very best thing for him. I should -have thought that you would have seen that with your good sense.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Miss Farrell, if that were all!”</p> - -<p>“And is there something more? Don’t tell me unless you like; but you -know you take a darker view than I do.”</p> - -<p>“There is but one view to take,” Winifred said. “It makes me miserable. -My father—I hope he does not intend it to be known, but I cannot -tell—anyhow you must know everything. My father says he has made up his -mind to cut off both the boys, and to leave everything to me.”</p> - -<p>Miss Farrell grew a little pale. She was old-fashioned and strong upon -the rights of sons and the inferior importance of girls. She paused<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_72" id="page_72">{72}</a></span> -before she spoke, and then said, with a little catching of her breath, -“If it is because you are the most worthy, my dear, I can’t say but he -is right. A girl of your age is always more worthy than the boys. You -have never been exposed to any temptation.”</p> - -<p>“But that is no virtue of mine. Think what it is for me—the boys that -were brought up to think everything was theirs—and now cast away, one -after another, and everything fixed upon me.”</p> - -<p>“My dear,” said Miss Farrell, recovering her courage, “you must not -disturb yourself too soon. Your father will live to change the -disposition of his property a hundred times. It is a sort of thing that -only wants a beginning.”</p> - -<p>“But don’t you see,” said Winifred, with great seriousness, “that is -poor comfort; for he may be displeased with me next, and leave it all -to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_73" id="page_73">{73}</a></span> some stranger. And then, who would care for George and Tom?”</p> - -<p>“I see what you mean—you are going to share with them, Winnie. My dear, -you may take my word for it, that will be better for them, far better -than if they got your father’s immense fortune into their hands.”</p> - -<p>“But injustice can never be best,” she said.</p> - -<p>They were in Miss Farrell’s pretty sitting-room, seated together upon -the sofa, and here Winifred, losing courage altogether, threw her arms -round her old friend, and put her head down upon the breast that had -always sympathy for her in all her troubles.</p> - -<p>“I am very unhappy,” she said. “I do not see any end to it. My brothers -both gone and I alone left, and nothing but difficulty before me -wherever I move. How can I tell how my father’s mind may change in other -ways, now that he has made up his mind to put me in this<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_74" id="page_74">{74}</a></span> changed -position—and how can I tell—even if that were not so”—</p> - -<p>These broken expressions would have conveyed little enlightenment to any -stranger, but Miss Farrell understood them well enough. She pressed -Winifred in her arms, and kissed the cheek which was so near her own.</p> - -<p>“Has anything been said about Edward?” she asked in a low tone.</p> - -<p>“Nothing yet; but how can I tell? Oh yes! there was something. I can’t -remember exactly what—only a sort of hint; but enough to show—Miss -Farrell, you always think the best of every one. What can make him do -it? He must love us—a little—I suppose?”</p> - -<p>The doubt in her tone was full of pathos and wondering bewilderment. -Winnie, though she had already many experiences, had not reached the -length of understanding that love itself can sometimes torture.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_75" id="page_75">{75}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Love you, my dear? why, of course he loves you! Whom has he else to -love? You must not let such foolish thoughts get into your mind. Thank -Heaven, since you were a child you have never had any doubt that I loved -you, Winnie, and yet I often made you do things you didn’t like, and -refused to let you do things you did like. Don’t you remember? Oh, I -could tell you a hundred instances. A man like your dear father, who has -been a great deal in the world, naturally forms his own ideas. And I can -tell you, Winnie, it is very, very difficult when one has the power, and -when one sees that young people are silly, not to take matters into -one’s own hand, and do for them what one knows to be best. But, -unfortunately, one never can get the young people to see it—they prefer -their own way. If they went according to the ideas of their fathers and -mothers, perhaps there would be less trouble in the world.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_76" id="page_76">{76}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“You don’t really think so,” cried Winnie, indignant. “You would never -have one go against one’s own heart.”</p> - -<p>“I say perhaps, my dear,” said Miss Farrell mildly,—“only perhaps. It -is a thing no one can be arbitrary about. To have one’s own way is the -most satisfactory thing, so long as it lasts, but often ‘thereof comes -in the end perplexity and madness.’ Then one thinks, if one had but -taken the other turn! Nobody knows, till time shows, which is for the -best.”</p> - -<p>“Is that a proverb?” asked Winnie, with some youthful scorn.</p> - -<p>“It sounds a little like it,” said the cheerful old lady, with a little -laugh, “but, the rhyme was quite unintentional; and, as a matter of -fact, we know that whatever happens to us in God’s providence is for the -best.”</p> - -<p>“Is my father’s hardheartedness God’s provi<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_77" id="page_77">{77}</a></span>dence?” said Winifred, her -face becoming almost severe in youthful gravity.</p> - -<p>It was not a question easy to answer. She scarcely listened to the -little lecture Miss Farrell gave, as to the wickedness of condemning her -father, or calling that hardheartedness which probably was the highest -exercise of watchful tenderness. “I don’t know that I should have had -the strength of mind to carry it out; but, my dear,” she said, “I have -not the very slightest doubt that this is by far the best thing for Tom. -He will come home a better man; he will have found out that life is -different from what he thinks. It may be the making of him. Your dear -father, who is stronger-minded than we are, does it, you may be sure, -for the best.”</p> - -<p>“And if I am ordered to give up everything I care for, perhaps you will -think that for the best too,” said the girl, withdrawing, half -sorrowful, half indignant. The elder woman gave her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_78" id="page_78">{78}</a></span> a look full of love -and sorrow. Behind the smiling of her cheerful little countenance there -was that consciousness which belongs to experience, that teaching of a -long life which at her age throws confusing lights upon much that is -plain and simple to the uninstructed. Miss Farrell in her heart answered -this last indignant question in a manner which would have confounded -Winifred; but she said nothing. “Sufficient unto the day is the evil -thereof.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_79" id="page_79">{79}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">W</span>INIFRED, it will be divined, was not without affairs of her own, which -were indeed kept in the background by the more urgent complications of -her family life, but yet were always there; and in every moment of -repose came in to fill up with sweetness mingled with pain all the -intervals of her thoughts. A few years before, when Mr. Chester had -retired from business and had come to live permanently at Bedloe, he had -begun his life of ease by a long illness, an illness at once dangerous -and tedious, which he had been “pulled through” by a young doctor, still -quite unknown to fame, who had devoted himself to the case of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_80" id="page_80">{80}</a></span> -patient with an absorbing attention such as elderly gentlemen of -mercantile connections rarely call forth. Mr. Chester was a man who was -always sensible of services rendered personally to himself, and as young -Dr. Langton gave up both time and ease to him, watched by his bedside at -the crisis of the disease, and never grudged to be called out of bed or -disturbed at any moment of the day or night, it was natural that a -grateful patient should form the highest idea of the man who had saved -his life.</p> - -<p>It did not detract from the merits of the young doctor that he belonged, -though remotely, to a county family, the ancient owners of Bedloe, and -that he held a higher place in the general estimation than the new -millionaire himself, whose advent had not been received with enthusiasm. -Dr. Langton, indeed, was of considerable use to the new-established -household.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_81" id="page_81">{81}</a></span> He decided several important people to call who had no -immediate intention of calling, and described with so much fervour the -sweetness and good manners of the young lady of the house, that the way -had thus been smoothed for that universal acceptance of Winifred which -had opened her father’s eyes to the fact that she alone of all the -family did him credit. Unfortunately, Dr. Langton went a little farther -than this. He was young, and Winifred was but just taking upon her the -independent position of mistress of her father’s house. They saw each -other every day, watched together at the sick-bed, and met in the most -unrestrained intimacy—and the natural result followed. Had Winifred -been poor, all his friends would have protested that she was a very bad -match for Edward Langton, who was believed to have what is called a fine -career before him; but as she was, instead, the daughter of a very rich<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_82" id="page_82">{82}</a></span> -man, it was permissible that on her side of the question Edward Langton -should be supposed a very poor match for Winifred. It had been -accordingly with very doubtful feelings and a great screwing up of his -courage that the young doctor had presented himself before the rich man -and asked him for his daughter. The reception he received was less -terrible than he feared, but more embarrassing. Mr. Chester had received -the proposal as a joke, a strange but extremely amusing pleasantry. -“Marry Winnie?” he had said; “you must wait till she is out of long -clothes—or of short frocks, is it?” And this had been the utmost that -could be extracted from him. But, at the same time, he had taken no -steps to discourage or separate the lovers. They had gone on seeing each -other constantly, and had been sufficiently confident that no serious -obstacle was to be placed in their way—but never had been able to -extract<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_83" id="page_83">{83}</a></span> a more definite decision or anything that could be called -consent. For some time, in the freshness of their mutual enchantment, -the two young people had gone on very gaily with this imperfect -sanction; but there had then come a time when Edward, impatient, yet not -venturing to risk a definite negative by using pressure upon the father, -had filled Winifred’s life with agitation, urging upon her the claims of -his faithful love, and even now and then proposing to carry her off, and -trust to the chance of pardon afterwards, rather than bear that -tantalising, unnecessary delay. Winifred, with mingled happiness and -distress, had spent many an hour in curbing this impetuosity, and it was -strange to her, a relief, but yet a surprise and wonder, when he -suddenly ceased all instances of the kind, and assumed the aspect of a -man quite satisfied with the present state of affairs, though very -watchful of all that happened, and curious to know<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_84" id="page_84">{84}</a></span> the details of -everything. The change in him filled her with surprise, and at first -with a vague uneasiness. But there was no appearance of any failure in -his devotion to herself, and it was in many respects less embarrassing -than the constant entreaties which she had found it so difficult to -resist. Still she would wonder sometimes, accepting, as women so often -accept, the unexplained decision of the men who are most near to them, -with that silent despair of ever understanding the motives of the other -half of humanity which men too so often feel in respect to women.</p> - -<p>As for Miss Farrell, who had seen so much both of men and women, she -divined, or thought she divined, what Dr. Langton meant. But she said -not a word to her pupil of her divinations. She said, “What a good thing -that Edward has made up his mind<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_85" id="page_85">{85}</a></span> to it. You never would have given in -to him, Winnie?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, never!” said the girl, with a silent, unexpressed sense that -perhaps it might have been better if she could.</p> - -<p>“No, you never would have done it; it is against your nature, and it -would have been the worst policy. Your dear father is a man of very -strong principles, and he never would have forgiven you. It would have -been quite past all hoping for. It is such a good thing Edward perceives -that at last.”</p> - -<p>Winifred did not receive this explanation with all the satisfaction that -her friend hoped. She felt uneasily the existence of some other with -which she was not acquainted; but so long as there was no doubt of -Edward’s love, what did it matter? And she was not herself impatient. -She saw him every day; she knew<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_86" id="page_86">{86}</a></span> (or supposed she knew) all his -thoughts; she had his confidence, his full trust, his unbroken devotion; -what more can a woman want? It is sometimes aggravating in the highest -degree to a man that she should want no more, that she should be content -with relations which stop so far short of his wishes, and Edward had -often expressed this fond exasperation. But now he took it quietly -enough, seeing possibilities which Winifred had not begun to see.</p> - -<p>Now, however, the calm of this unexpected content was interrupted from -the other side. Tom was scarcely gone, shaking off the dust from his -shoes as he crossed for the last time the threshold of his father’s -house, when Winifred learned all that was involved in the disastrous -promotion which had already made her so miserable—not only to supplant -her brothers (which yet it might be possible to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_87" id="page_87">{87}</a></span> turn to their -advantage), but to expose herself to risks which were worse than theirs, -to fall perhaps in her turn and make herself incapable of helping them, -or for their sake to resign all that was to herself best in life. -Winifred had retired from her father’s presence with this sword in her -heart. And Miss Farrell’s consolations, though they soothed her for the -moment, did not draw it out. She felt the pang and quivering anguish -through all her being. It was now her turn: she was about to be called -upon to act the heroic part which is so admirable to hear about, so -terrible to perform: to give up love and life for the sake of family -affection lightly returned, or not returned at all, rewarded with -suspicions and unkindness by those for whom she sacrificed everything. -To give up her love, her husband, for her brothers! She did what those -who are disturbed in mind instinctively learn to do. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_88" id="page_88">{88}</a></span> went out by -herself into the park, and took a long solitary walk, communing with -herself. She had looked forward to Miss Farrell’s return as to something -which would help and strengthen her. And for the moment that new event, -and all the gentle philosophies that had come from her old friend’s -lips, had helped her a little. But at the end every one must bear his -own burden. She went out into the park, which, though the sun had come -out, was still wet and sodden with last night’s rain. The half-opened -leaves were all sparkling with wet, the sky had that clear and keen -sweetness of light which is like the serenity which comes into a human -face after many tears. The sod was soft and spongy under her feet; but -Winifred was not in a mood to observe anything. She walked fast and far, -carrying her thoughts with her, passing everything in review with the -simplicity and frankness which is impossible<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_89" id="page_89">{89}</a></span> when we have to clothe our -thoughts in words. She would not have said, even to herself, that George -and Tom would never understand her motives, never believe in her -affection; but she knew it very well, just as she knew that the grass -was damp and that she was wetting her feet, a consciousness that neither -in one case nor the other meant any blame. She knew, too, that her -feelings and her happiness would matter little more to her father than -did to herself the feelings, if they had any, of the thorns which she -put out of her way. To put these consciousnesses into words is to -condemn; but in one’s thoughts one takes such known facts for granted -without any opinion.</p> - -<p>To leap into the midst of such complications all at once is very hard -for a young soul. Ordinarily, the girl to whom it suddenly becomes -apparent that she may be called upon to give up her love, has at least -something to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_90" id="page_90">{90}</a></span> rest upon in the way of compensation; when it is in -fiction, she has to save her father from ruin, and often it happens in -real life that the delight of all her friends, the approbation of her -parents, the satisfaction of all who love her, is the reward for her -sacrifice. But poor Winifred was without any such consolation. If she -gave up her happiness for the sake of retaining and restoring their -inheritance to her brothers, they would revile her in the meantime, and -take it as the mere restitution of something stolen from them, in the -future. Or she might find that the inheritance came to her under -restrictions which made her sacrifice useless, and her desire to do -justice impossible. What was she then to do? There came into her mind a -sudden wish that Edward was still as he was six months ago, vehement, -impatient, almost desperate. Oh, if he would but take the matter into -his own hands, risk everything,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_91" id="page_91">{91}</a></span> carry her away, make it impossible once -for all that she should be the one who had to set all right! She said to -herself that she ought to have consented when he had urged this upon -her. Why should she have hesitated? They had been held in suspense for -two years, a long time in which to exercise patience, to linger on the -threshold of life. And it was not as if her father wanted her love, or -would feel his house vacant and miserable without her. He who could cut -off his sons without a compunction had never shown any particular love -for his daughter. His thoughts were concentrated upon himself. She was -not so necessary to him as old Hopkins was, who understood all his -tastes.</p> - -<p>When Winifred suffered herself for a moment to think of herself, to leap -in imagination from Bedloe, with all its luxuries, from the sombre life -at home, undisturbed now by any joyous<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_92" id="page_92">{92}</a></span> expectation of the boys, with no -hope even of family letters that would afford anything but pain—to the -doctor’s little house full of sunshine and pleasantness, the life of two -which is the perfection of individual existence—her heart, too, seemed -to leap out of her bosom towards that other world. Oh, if she could but -be liberated without any action of her own, carried away, transported -from her own dim life to that of him to whom above all others she -belonged! This flight of fancy lifted her up in a momentary exaltation -above all her troubles. Then she tumbled down, down to the dust. She -knew very well it would not be. He could not, even if he wished it, -which now it seemed he did not, carry her away without consulting her, -without her consent. And she could never give that consent. She could -not abandon her home, her duties, the possibility of serving her -brothers, the necessity of serving<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_93" id="page_93">{93}</a></span> her father. One must act according -to one’s nature, however clearly one may see a happier way, however -certain one may be of the inefficiency of self-denial. Sometimes even -duty becomes a kind of immorality, a servile consent to the tyranny of -others; but still to the dutiful it is a bond which cannot be broken. -Winifred felt herself look on like a spectator, and sadly assent to the -possible destruction of her own life and all her hopes. It might be -delayed, it might not come at all, but still it was impending over her, -and she did not know how she was to escape, even in that one impossible -way.</p> - -<p>She had reached the edge of the park without knowing it in the fulness -of her preoccupation, when the sound of a dog-cart coming along the road -awoke her attention. It was no wonderful thing that Edward should be -passing at that moment, though she had not<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_94" id="page_94">{94}</a></span> thought of it. Neither was -it extraordinary that he should throw the reins to his servant and join -her. “I have just time to walk back with you,” he said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_95" id="page_95">{95}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span>T was scarcely in nature that the appearance of her betrothed, coming -so suddenly in the midst of her thoughts, should be disagreeable to -Winifred, but it was an embarrassment to her, and rather added to than -lessened the trouble on her mind. He led her back into the park, which -she had been coming out of, scarcely knowing where she wandered. As was -his way when they were beyond the reach of curious eyes, he took her arm -instead of offering her his. There was something more caressing, more -close in this manner of contact. When they were safe beyond all -interruption, he bent over her tenderly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_96" id="page_96">{96}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Something is the matter,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Nothing new, Edward.”</p> - -<p>“Only the trouble of yesterday, Tom’s going away?”</p> - -<p>“It is not the trouble of yesterday. It is a trouble which lasts, which -is going on, which may never come to an end. I don’t think you can say -of any trouble that it is only of yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“That is very true; still, you and I are not given to philosophising, -Winnie, and I thought there might be some new incident. I suppose he -sails to-day?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he sails to-day: and when will he come back again? Will he ever -come back? The two of them? Oh, Edward, life is very hard, very -different from what one thought.”</p> - -<p>“At your age people are seldom so much mixed up in it. But there is the -good as well as the bad.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_97" id="page_97">{97}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps,” said the girl, faltering, “I am looking through spectacles, -not rose-coloured, all the other way. I don’t see very much of the -good.”</p> - -<p>He pressed her arm close to his side.</p> - -<p>“Am not I a little bit of good; is not our life all good if it were only -once begun?”</p> - -<p>“But what if it never begins?”</p> - -<p>“Winnie!” he cried, startled, standing still and drawing her suddenly in -front of him so that he could look into her face.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Edward, don’t add to my troubles; I don’t see how it is ever to -begin. My father means to put me in Tom’s place, as he put Tom in -George’s place, and already he has said”—</p> - -<p>“What has he said?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it means nothing,” she went on after a pause; “I should have -kept it to myself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_98" id="page_98">{98}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Winnie, that is worse than anything he can have said. What he says I -can bear, but not that you should keep anything to yourself.”</p> - -<p>“It was not much. It was a sort of a threat. He said the match that was -good enough for Winnie might not be good enough for”—</p> - -<p>“His heiress. He is right enough,” young Langton said.</p> - -<p>At this, Winifred, who had been anticipating in her own mind all that -was involved, trembled as if it had never occurred to her before, and -turned upon him with an air, and indeed with the most real sentiment of -grieved surprise.</p> - -<p>“Right?” she said, with wonder and reproach in her voice.</p> - -<p>“A country doctor,” said the young man, “a fellow with nothing, is not a -match for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_99" id="page_99">{99}</a></span> heiress of Bedloe. He is right enough. We cannot -contradict him. You ought to make an alliance like a princess with some -one like yourself.”</p> - -<p>“I did not think,” said Winnie, raising her head with a flush of anger, -“that you would have been the one to make it all worse.”</p> - -<p>He smiled upon her, still holding her closely by the arm. “Did you think -I had not thought of that before now? Of course, from his point of view, -and, of course, from all points of view except our own, Winnie”—</p> - -<p>“I am glad you make that exception.”</p> - -<p>“It is very magnanimous of me to do so, and you will have to be all the -more good to me. I am not blind, and I have seen it all coming, from the -moment of Tom’s failure. Why was he so silly as to fail,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100">{100}</a></span> when a hundred -boobies get through every year?”</p> - -<p>“Poor Tom!” she said, with a little gush of tears.</p> - -<p>“Yes; poor Tom! I suppose he never for a moment thought—But, for my -part, I have seen it coming. I have seen for a long time what way the -tide was turning. At first there was not much thought of you; you were -only the little girl in the house. If it had not been so, I should have -run away, I should not have run my head into the net, and exposed myself -to certain contempt and rejection. But I saw that nobody knew there was -in the house an angel unawares.”</p> - -<p>“Edward, you make me ashamed! You know how far I am”—</p> - -<p>“From being an angel? I hope so, Winnie. If I saw the wings budding, I -should get out my instruments and clip them: it would be<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101">{101}</a></span> a novel sort -of an operation. I thought their ignorance was my opportunity.”</p> - -<p>She was partly mollified, partly alarmed. “You did not think all this -before you let yourself—care for me, Edward?”</p> - -<p>“I did before I allowed myself to tell you that I—cared for you, as you -say. One does not do such a thing without thinking. There was a time -when I thought that I must give up the splendid practice of Bedloe, with -Shippington into the bargain; the rich appointment of parish doctor, the -fat fees of the Union”—</p> - -<p>“You can laugh at it,” she said, “but it is very, very serious to me.”</p> - -<p>“And so it is very, very serious to me. So much so that six months ago I -wanted to throw everything up, if you would only have consented to come -with me, and seek our fortune, I did not mind where<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102">{102}</a></span>”—</p> - -<p>“Ah!” she said. There was in the exclamation a world of wistful meaning. -What an escape it would have been from all after peril! Winifred said -this with the slight shiver of one who sees the means of safety which -she could never have taken advantage of.</p> - -<p>“But now,” he said, “it is too late for that.”</p> - -<p>His tone of conviction went to Winifred’s heart like a stone. She would -never have consented to it; but yet why did he say it was too late? She -gave him a wistful glance, but asked no question. To do so would have -been contrary to her pride and every feeling. They went on for a few -minutes in silence, she more cast down than she could explain—he adding -nothing to what he had said. Why did he add nothing? Things could not be -left now as they were, without mutual explanation and decision what they -were to do. Too late? She felt in her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103">{103}</a></span> heart, on the contrary, that now -was the only moment in which it could have been done, in which she could -have wound herself up to the possibility—if it were not for other -possibilities, which, alas! would thrust themselves into the way.</p> - -<p>“I have something to tell you,” he said, “something which you will think -makes everything worse. I might have kept you in ignorance of it, as I -have been doing; but the knowledge must come some time, and it will -explain what I have said”—</p> - -<p>She withdrew a little from him, and drew herself up to all the height -she possessed, which was not very much. There went to her heart a quick -dart like the stab of a knife. She thought he was about to tell her that -his own mind had changed, or that her coming wealth and importance had -made it incompatible with his pride to continue their engagement. -Something of this<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104">{104}</a></span> kind it seemed certain that it must be. In the sudden -conviction of the moment it did not occur to Winifred that such a new -thing could scarcely be told while he held her so closely to him, and -clasped her hand and arm so firmly. But it was not a moment for the -exercise of reason. She did not look up, but she raised her head -instinctively and made an effort to loosen her hand from his clasp. But -of these half-involuntary movements he took no note, being fully -occupied with what was in his mind.</p> - -<p>“Winnie,” he said in a serious voice, “your father talks at his ease of -making wills and changing the disposition of his property. I don’t -suppose he thinks for a moment how near he may be—how soon these -changes may come into effect.”</p> - -<p>A little start, a little tremor ran through her frame. Her attitude of -preparation for a blow<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105">{105}</a></span> relaxed. She did not understand what he meant in -the relief of perceiving that it was not what she thought.</p> - -<p>“My father? I don’t understand you, Edward.”</p> - -<p>“No, I scarcely expected you would. He looks what people call the -picture of health.”</p> - -<p>She started now violently and drew her arm out of his in the shock of -the first suggestion. “My father!” she stammered—“the picture of -health—you do not mean, you cannot mean”—</p> - -<p>“I have been cruel,” he said, drawing tenderly her arm into his. “I have -given you a great shock. My darling, it had to be done sooner or later. -Your father, though he looks so well, is not well, Winnie. I never was -satisfied that he got over that illness as he thought he did. But even I -was not alarmed for a long time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106">{106}</a></span> Now for several months I have been -watching him closely. If he does not make this new will at once, he may -never do it. If he does, it will not be long before you are called on to -assume your place.”</p> - -<p>“Edward! you do not mean that my father—You don’t mean that there is -absolute danger—to his life—soon—now? Edward! you do not think”—</p> - -<p>“Dear, you must show no alarm. You must learn to be quite calm. You must -not betray your knowledge. It may be at any moment—to-day, to-morrow, -no one can tell. It is not certain—nothing is certain—he may go on for -a year.”</p> - -<p>The light seemed to fail in Winifred’s eyes. She leant against her lover -with a rush and whirl of hurrying thoughts that seemed to carry away her -very life. It was not the awful sensation of a calamity from which there -is no<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107">{107}</a></span> escape, such as often overwhelms the tender soul when first -brought face to face with death; but rather a horrible sense of what -that doom would be to him, the cutting off of everything in which, so -far as she knew, he took any pleasure or ever thought of. The idea of a -spiritual life beyond would not come into any accordance with her -consciousness of him. Mr. Chester was one of those men whom it is -impossible to think of as entering into rest, or attaining immediate -felicity by the sudden step of death. There are some people whom the -imagination refuses to connect with any surroundings but those of -prosaic humanity. They must die, too, like the most spiritually-minded; -but there comes upon the soul a sensation of moral vertigo when we think -of them as entering the life of an unseen world. This, though it may -seem unnatural to say so, was the first sensation of Winifred, a sense -of horror and alarm, an<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108">{108}</a></span> immediate realisation of the terrible -inappropriateness of such a removal. What would become of him when -removed from earth, the only state of existence with which he had any -affinities? It sent a shiver over her, a chill sense of the unknown and -unimaginable which seemed to freeze the blood in her veins. It was only -when she recovered from this that natural feeling gained utterance. She -had leant against her lover in that first giddiness, with her head -swimming, her strength giving way. She came slowly back to herself, -feeling his arm which supported her with a curious beatific sense that -everything was explained between him and her, mingled with the sensation -of natural grief and dismay.</p> - -<p>“I do not feel as if it could be possible,” she said faintly. Then, with -trembling lips, “My father?” and melted into tears.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109">{109}</a></span></p> - -<p>“My dearest, it is right you should know. It is for this reason I have -tried to persuade you not to go against him in anything. The more -tranquillity he has, the better are his chances for life. Let him do as -he threatens. Perhaps if you withdraw all opposition he will delay the -making of another will, as almost all men do—for there seems time -enough for such an operation, and nothing to hurry for. Get him into -this state of mind if you can, Winnie. Don’t oppose him; let it be -believed that you see the justice of his intention, that you are willing -to do what he pleases.”</p> - -<p>“Even”—she said, and looked up at him, pausing, unable to say more.</p> - -<p>He took both her hands in his, and looked at her, smiling. “Even,” he -said, “to the length of allowing him to believe that you have given up a -man that was never half good enough for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110">{110}</a></span> you; but who believes in you -all the same like heaven.”</p> - -<p>“Believes in me—when I pretend to give up what I don’t give up, and -pretend to accept what I don’t accept? Is that the kind of woman you -believe in?” she cried, drawing away her hands. “How can I do so? How -can I consent to cheat my father, and he perhaps—perhaps”—</p> - -<p>She stood faltering, trembling, crying, but detaching herself with -nervous force from his support, in a passion of indignation and trouble -and dismay.</p> - -<p>He answered her with a line in which is the climax of heart-rending -tragedy, holding out to her the hands from which she had escaped—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Faith unfaithful kept him falsely true.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>“That may do for poetry,” she said; “but for me, I am not great enough -or grand enough<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111">{111}</a></span> to—to—to be able to brave it. Edward, do not ask me. -I must tell the truth. If I tried to do anything else, my face, my looks -would betray me. Oh, don’t be so hard on me. Ask me something less than -this, ask me now to”—</p> - -<p>She stopped terror-stricken, not knowing what she had said; but he only -looked at her tenderly, shaking his head. “If I had ever persuaded you -to that,” he said, “I should have been a cad and a rascal, for it would -have broken your heart. But now I should be worse—I might be a -murderer. Winnie, you must yield for his sake. You must let him live as -long as God permits.”</p> - -<p>“And deceive him?” she said, almost inaudibly. “Oh, you don’t know what -you are asking of me! You are asking too much cleverness, too much -power. I can only say one thing or another. I cannot be falsely true.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112">{112}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“You can do everything that is necessary, whatever it may be, for those -you love,” he said.</p> - -<p>She stood faltering before him for a moment, turning her eyes from one -side to the other, as if in search of help. But there was nothing that -could give her any aid. The heavens seemed to close in above her, and -the earth to disappear from under her feet. If she had ever consented to -an untruth in her life, it had been to shield and excuse her brothers, -for whom there were always apologies to be made. And how to deceive she -knew not.</p> - -<p>They went on together across the park, not noticing the wetness of the -grass or the threatening of the sky, upon which clouds were once more -blowing up for rain, so much absorbed in their consultation that they -were close to the house before they were aware, and started like<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113">{113}</a></span> guilty -things surprised when Mr. Chester came sharply upon them round a corner, -buttoned up to the chin, and with an umbrella in his hand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114">{114}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">“W</span>HY don’t you come to the house and have your talk out? She has got her -feet wet, and if she does not look sharp, we shall all be caught in the -rain—a doctor should know better than to expose a young lady to -bronchitis. Besides, her life is more important than it ever was -before.”</p> - -<p>“We forgot how the skies were looking. You should not be out of doors -either; it is worse for you than for her. I told you this morning you -had a cold.”</p> - -<p>“You are always telling me I have a cold.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115">{115}</a></span> I shan’t live a day the less -for that,” said Mr. Chester, with a jauntiness which made Winifred’s -heart sick.</p> - -<p>“I hope not, but we must take care,” said young Langton. “Come back -now—don’t go any farther. I hope you were coming only to bring Miss -Chester back.”</p> - -<p>“I was coming to bring Miss Chester back—and for other things,” said -her father significantly. He put a little emphasis on the name, and -Winifred had already been painfully affected by hearing her name -pronounced so formally by her lover. He had never addressed her -familiarly in her father’s presence, but now there seemed a meaning in -everything, and as her father repeated it, there seemed in it a whole -new world and new disposition of affairs. “But as it is going to be a -wet night,” he added, “and we shall have a dull time of it, nothing but -myself and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116">{116}</a></span> two females at dinner, you had better come and dine with us, -doctor, if you have nothing better to do.”</p> - -<p>“I will come with pleasure,” Langton said. He had perfect command of -himself, and yet he could not refrain from a momentary glance at -Winifred, which said much.</p> - -<p>She, too, divined, with a sinking of her heart, that it was not merely -for dinner, or to relieve himself from the society of “two females,” -that her father gave the invitation. He was unusually gracious and -smiling.</p> - -<p>“You know you’re always welcome,” he said. “The ladies spoil you. A -young doctor is something like a curate, he is always spoiled by the -ladies; but they shan’t have so much of your company as they expect, for -I have got several things to talk to you about.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117">{117}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“As many as you like,” said Langton, “but let me entreat you to go in -now.”</p> - -<p>“You see how anxious our friend is about my health, Winnie; he does not -care half so much for yours, and you are a deal more liable to take cold -than ever I was. You take that from your mother, who was always a feeble -creature. The stamina is on the Chester side. Very well, doctor, very -well. I don’t like the wet any more than you do. I’m going in, don’t be -afraid. Dinner at seven, sharp, and don’t keep us waiting.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Chester’s laugh seemed to the young pair to mean much; the very wave -of his hand as he turned away, his insistance upon the hour of dinner, -all breathed of fate. The two young people exchanged one look as they -shook hands; on his side it was a look at once of encouragement and -entreaty—on hers of terror and wistfulness. She was afraid and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118">{118}</a></span> yet -anxious to be left alone with her father. It seemed to Winifred that she -could bear what he said to herself, however painful it might be, but -that an insulting dismissal of Edward was more than she could bear. She -could not linger, however, nor say a word to him beyond what ordinary -civility required. Even the momentary pause did not pass without remark.</p> - -<p>“Some last words?” Mr. Chester said; “one would think you had seen -enough of each other. You should make your appointments a little earlier -in the day.”</p> - -<p>“It was no appointment, papa. I was walking, and Dr. Langton came up in -his dog-cart.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, very likely; these things fall in so pat, don’t they? I suppose I -am past the age for encountering people in dog-carts just when I want -them. But you must not calculate<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119">{119}</a></span> too much on that,” he said with a -laugh. “There’s no reason why I shouldn’t marry and provide myself with -another family, that might be more to my mind than you.”</p> - -<p>To this Winnie made no reply. The threat had offended her on other -occasions; now it affected her with that dreadful sense of the -intolerable to which words can give no expression; it brought the blood -in a rush to her face, and she looked at him in spite of herself with -eyes in which pity and horror were mingled. He met her look with a -laugh.</p> - -<p>“You are horrified, are you? That’s all very well for you; but let me -tell you, many an older man than I, and less pleasing, perhaps, has got -a pretty young wife before now. It has to be paid for, like every other -luxury; but women are plenty, my dear, though you mayn’t think so.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120">{120}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Papa, do you think this is a subject to discuss with me?”</p> - -<p>“Why not? You are the only one except myself that would be much affected -by it. It might interfere with your comforts, and it would interfere -very much with your importance, I can tell you, Miss Winnie.”</p> - -<p>“Then, father,” the girl said, “for Heaven’s sake do it, and don’t talk -of it any more. Rather that a thousand times than to be forced to agree -to what I abhor, than to be put in another’s place, than to have to give -up”—</p> - -<p>He turned round and looked at her somewhat sternly. “What do you expect -to be obliged to give up?” he said.</p> - -<p>Between her fear of doing harm to him, whose tranquillity she had been -charged to preserve, and her fear of precipitating matters<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121">{121}</a></span> and bringing -upon herself at once the prohibition she feared—and that natural -nervous desire to forestall a catastrophe which was entirely -contradictory of the other sentiments, Winifred paused and replied to -him with troubled looks rather than with speech. When she found her -voice, she answered, faltering—</p> - -<p>“What you said to me yesterday, meant giving up the truth and all I have -ever cared for in my life. I have always wanted, desired, more than my -life, to be of use to—the boys—and to be made to appear as if I were -against them”—</p> - -<p>Her voice was interrupted with sobs. Ah, but was not this the beginning -of treachery? It was the truth, but not the whole truth; the boys were -much, but there was something which was still more. Already in the first -outset and beginning she was but falsely true.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122">{122}</a></span></p> - -<p>“This is all about the boys, is it?” he said coldly—“as you call them. -I should say the men—who have taken their own way, and had their own -will, and like it, I hope. If it comes to a bargain between you and me, -Winnie, there must be something more than that.”</p> - -<p>“There can be no bargain between you and me,” said Winifred. In the -meantime, looking at him, she had thought his colour varied, and that a -slight stumble he made over a stone was a sign of weakness; and her -heart sank with sudden compunction. “Oh, no bargain, papa! It is yours -to tell me what to do, and mine to—to obey you.” Her voice weakened and -grew low as she said these words. She felt as if it were a solemn -promise she was making, instead of the most ordinary of dutiful -speeches. He nodded his head repeatedly as she spoke.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123">{123}</a></span></p> - -<p>“That’s as it should be, Winnie,—that’s as it should be; continue like -that, my dear, and you shall hear no more of the new wife. So long as -you are reasonable, I am quite content with my daughter, who does me -credit. It is your duty to do me credit. I am going to do a great deal -for you, and I have more claim than just the ordinary claim. Go in now, -the rain’s coming. As for me, for all that young fellow says, I don’t -believe it matters. I feel as fit as ever I did in my life. Still, -bronchitis is a nuisance,” he added, coughing a little, as he followed -her indoors.</p> - -<p>Winifred did not appear again till the hour of dinner. She was, like -every one who hears a sentence of death for the first time, apprehensive -that the event which seemed at one moment incredible might happen the -next, and she stole along the corridor at least half a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124">{124}</a></span> dozen times, to -make sure that her father was in the room called the library, in which -he read his newspapers. If any sound was heard in the silence of the -house, she conjured up terrible visions of a sudden fall and -catastrophe.</p> - -<p>How was it possible to oppose him in anything? If he told her to abandon -Edward, she would have to reply—as if he had asked her to go out for a -walk, or drive with him in his carriage—“Yes, papa.” It would not -matter what he asked, she must make the same answer, conventional, -meaning as little as if it had been a request for a cup of tea. And -about his will the same assent would have to be necessary. She must -appear to him and to the world to be very willing to supplant her -brothers; she must appear to give up her lover because now she was too -great and too<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125">{125}</a></span> rich to marry a poor man. This was the charge her lover -himself had laid upon her. She must consent to everything. The true -feelings of her mind, and all her intentions and hopes, must be laid -aside, and she must appear as if she were another woman, a creature -influenced by the will of others without any of her own.</p> - -<p>Even that was a possible position. A girl might give up all natural will -and impulse. She might be a passive instrument in other people’s hands. -She might take passively what was given to her, and passively allow -something else to be taken away: that might be weak, miserable, and -unworthy—but it need not be false. What was required of her was more -than this. It was required of her that she should pretend to be all this -till her father should die, and then turn round and deceive him in his -grave. The thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126">{126}</a></span> made Winifred shiver with a chill which penetrated -her very heart. After, could she undo all she had done, baulk him after -he was dead, proclaim to all the world that she had deceived him? Was -that what Edward meant by being falsely true? She said to herself that -she could not do it, that it would be impossible. In the case of her -brothers, perhaps, where only renunciation was necessary, she might do -it; but to gain happiness for herself she could not do it. “I cannot, I -cannot!” she cried to herself under her breath; and then lower still, -with an anguish of resolution and determination, “I will not!” If she -gave him up, it should be for ever. She would not play a part, and -pretend submission, and deceive.</p> - -<p>But, to the astonishment of both these young people, Mr. Chester that -evening did not say<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127">{127}</a></span> a word on the subject. During dinner he was more -agreeable than usual; but when the ladies went out of the room, young -Langton, as he met the eyes of his betrothed, gave her a look which told -that he knew what was coming. He was so nervous when he was left behind -that for the first few minutes he hardly knew what was being said to -him; but when he calmed down and came to himself, an astonished sense -that nothing was being said took the place of his dread, and bewildered -him altogether. All that Mr. Chester had to say was to ask for some -information about a small estate which was to be sold in another part of -the country which was better known to the doctor than to himself. He -asked his advice, indeed, as to whether he should or should not become -its purchaser, in a way which made young Langton’s head go round, for it -was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128">{128}</a></span> manner of a man who was consulting one of those who were -concerned, an intimate friend, perhaps a son-in-law. He said to himself, -after a moment, when this subject was exhausted, that now it must be -coming. But, on the contrary, there was not a word.</p> - -<p>When the two gentlemen went into the drawing-room, Winifred asked him -with her eyes a question which was full of the anguish of suspense. He -managed behind the cover of a book to say to her, “Nothing has been -said;” but this was so wonderful that the relief was too much, and -neither could she believe in that. They both felt that the pause, though -almost miraculous, could not be real, and that the coming storm was all -the more certain because of this delay.</p> - -<p>Late that night Mr. Chester felt unwell, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129">{129}</a></span> sent into the village for -the doctor just as he was going to bed. Langton put on his coat, and -jumped into the dog-cart which had been sent for him, with a sudden -quickening of all his pulses, and the sense of a miraculous escape more -distinctly in his mind than solicitude for his patient. Winifred met him -at the door with wild anxiety and terror, and followed him to her -father’s room, with all her nerves strung for the great and terrible -event of which she had been warned. She thought nothing less than that -the hour of calamity had come, and the whole house was moved with a -vague horror of anticipation, although no one knew that there was -anything to fear. The doctor’s practised eye, however, saw in a moment -that it was a false alarm, and it was with a pang almost of -disappointment that he reassured her. He could only appear glad, but -there was no doubt in his own mind that it was a distinct mistake<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130">{130}</a></span> of -Providence. Had Mr. Chester died then, he would have left the world with -one or two sins the less on his conscience, and a great deal of human -misery would have been spared.</p> - -<p>“You think I should not have roused you out of your comfortable bed -without the excuse of dying, or at least something more in it?” the -patient said; “but you will find I am a tough customer, and likely to -give you more trouble before you are done with me.”</p> - -<p>“It is no trouble,” the doctor said, with a grave face; “but you must -learn to be careful.”</p> - -<p>“Pshaw!” said the rich man. “I tell you I am a tough customer. It is not -a bit of an evening walk that will free you of me.”</p> - -<p>“We will do our best to fortify you for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131">{131}</a></span> evening walks; but you must be -careful,” Langton said.</p> - -<p>Upon which his patient gave a chuckle, and turned round in his bed and -went to sleep like a two-years child.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132">{132}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">A</span> THREATENED life is said to last long. Winifred Chester lived in great -alarm and misery for a week or two, watching every movement and every -look of her father, expecting almost to see him fall and die before her -very eyes. The horror of a catastrophe which she could not avert, which -nothing could be done to stave off, intensified the natural feeling -which makes the prospect of another’s death, even of an indifferent -person, overawing and terrible. And though it was impossible to believe -that a man like Mr. Chester could inspire his daughter with that -impassioned filial love which many daughters bear to their<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133">{133}</a></span> parents, yet -he was her father, and all the habits of her life were associated with -him: so that the idea of his sudden removal conveyed almost as great a -shock to her mind as if the warmest bonds of love, instead of a natural -affection much fretted by involuntary judgments given in her heart -against him, had been the bond between them.</p> - -<p>And there can be nothing in the world more dreadful to the mind than to -watch the life and actions of a human creature whom we know to be on the -brink of the grave, but who neither suspects nor anticipates any danger, -and lives every day as though he were to live for ever. To hear him say -what he was going to do in the time to come, the changes he meant to -make, the improvements, the new furnishings, the plantings, all that was -to be done during the next ten years, filled Winifred with a thrill of -misery which was not unmingled<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134">{134}</a></span> with compunction. Could she say nothing -to him, give him no hint, whisper in his ear no intimation that his days -were numbered? She shrank within herself at the thought of presuming to -do so; and yet to be with him and walk by him, and listen to all his -anticipations, and never do it, seemed horrible. All his thoughts were -of the world in which he had, as he did not know, so precarious a -footing. He was a man who wanted no other, whose horizon was bounded by -the actual, whose aspirations did not exceed what human life could give -him. He had met with disappointments and probably had felt them as -bitterly as other men, but his active spirit had never been arrested, he -had turned to something else in which he expected compensation. The -something else at present was Winifred; she had done him credit, and -might do so still in a higher degree than had been possible to her -brothers. She might marry<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135">{135}</a></span> anybody. As for the doctor, when the moment -came, Mr. Chester knew very well how to make short work of the doctor. -And Winnie, of whom there could be no doubt that she was a lady, should -marry a lord and satisfy her father’s pride, and make up for everything.</p> - -<p>His mind had taken refuge in this with an elasticity which minds of -higher tone and better inspirations do not always possess; and those -plans which to her were so frightful, those arrangements of years which -he should never see, were all with a view to this satisfaction which he -had promised himself. He was going to preserve the game strictly, a duty -which he had not much thought of hitherto: he was going to enlarge the -house—to build a new wing for my lord, as he began within himself to -name his unknown son-in-law. In these<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136">{136}</a></span> arrangements he forgot his own -sons, putting them aside altogether, as if they had never existed, and -forgot also, or at least never took into consideration, any uncertainty -in life, any thought of consolations less positive.</p> - -<p>To see a man so terribly off his guard is always a spectacle very -terrible and surprising when the mind of the spectator is roused to it, -just as the sight of any indifferent passer-by going lightly along a -road on which death awaits him round the next corner, is almost more -appalling than the sight of death itself, especially if we cannot warn -him or do anything to save. And how could he die? A man who cared for -nothing that was not in the life he knew, how was he to adapt himself to -another, to anything so different? Winifred’s brain swam, the light -faded before her as she sat watching him, unable to take<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137">{137}</a></span> her eyes from -him, full of terror, compassion, pity.</p> - -<p>“What are you staring at so?” he asked on more than one occasion.</p> - -<p>“Nothing, papa,” Winifred replied incoherently, consciousness suddenly -coming back to her as his voice broke the giddiness and throng of -intolerable thoughts.</p> - -<p>“One would think you saw a ghost behind me,” he said, with a laugh. -“That’s the new æsthetic fashion of absent-mindedness, I suppose;” and -this explanation satisfied and even pleased him, for he wished Winnie to -be of the latest fashion and “up to everything” with the best.</p> - -<p>Miss Farrell, on the other hand, scolded her pupil, as much as she could -scold any one, for this sudden alarm which had seized her. “It is just a -fad,” the old lady said. “Edward has his fads like other people: doctors -have; they<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138">{138}</a></span> are fond of a discovery that leads to nothing. I never saw -your dear father look better in his life.”</p> - -<p>“He does not look ill,” Winifred allowed, with a faint movement of -relief.</p> - -<p>“Ill? he looks strong, younger than he did five years ago, and such a -colour, and an excellent appetite. But I am glad to hear that is what -Edward thinks, for it explains everything.”</p> - -<p>“Glad?” it was Winifred’s turn to exclaim.</p> - -<p>“My dear, when you are my age you will know that one is sometimes glad -of an explanation of things that have puzzled one, even though the -explanation itself is not cheerful. I think this fright of Edward’s is a -piece of folly, but yet it explains many things. As for your dear -father, if he were a little unwell from time to time, that would be -nothing to wonder<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139">{139}</a></span> at. Gout, for instance—one is always prepared for -gout in a man of his age. But he is up early and late, he has the -complexion of a ploughboy, and can eat everything without even a thought -of his digestion. I envy him,” she said, with fervour. Then, giving -Winifred a kiss as she leant over her, “You are seeing everything <i>en -noir</i>, my dear, and Edward is giving in to you. Don’t think any more -about it for three days; in the meantime I will watch him; give me three -days, and promise me to be happy in the meantime.”</p> - -<p>This time Winifred did not repeat the inappropriate expression, but only -looked at her old friend with tears in her eyes. “I don’t think I have -very much to be happy about,” she said.</p> - -<p>“You have life before you, and youth and hope; and you have Edward; and -your dear father, so far as I can see, in perfect health;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140">{140}</a></span> and the -others—in the hands of Providence Winnie.”</p> - -<p>“Are we not all in the hands of Providence,” said the girl; “those who -live and those who die, those who do well and those who do ill? and it -does not seem to make any difference.”</p> - -<p>“That is because we see such a little way, such a little way—never what -to-morrow is going to bring forth,” Miss Farrell said.</p> - -<p>But this conversation did not do very much to reassure Winifred, and at -the end of the three days the old lady said nothing. Her experienced -eyes saw, after a close investigation, certain trifles which brought her -to the young doctor’s opinion, or at least made her acknowledge to -herself that he might possibly be right. It is to be feared that Miss -Farrell did not look upon this possibility with horror. She was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141">{141}</a></span> calmer, -not so much interested, and less full of that instinctive horror and awe -of death which is most strong in the young. She had seen a great many -people die; perhaps she was not for that more reconciled to the idea of -it in her own person than others; but she had come to look upon it with -composure where others were concerned. She thought it likely enough that -Edward might be right; and she thought that, perhaps, this was not the -conclusion which would be most regrettable. It would leave Winifred -free. If he did not alter his will, it would restore the boys to their -rights; and if he did alter his will, Winifred would restore them to -their rights. On making a balance of the greatest happiness of the -greatest number, no doubt it would be for the best that Mr. Chester -should end his career.</p> - -<p>After these three days, at the end of which Winifred asked no -explanation from her friend,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142">{142}</a></span> many other days followed, with nothing -happening. The force of the impression was softened in her mind, and -though the appearance of Mr. Chester’s man of business on two or three -several occasions gave her a renewed thrill of terror, yet her father -said nothing on the subject of his will, and she was glad on her side to -ignore it, feeling that nothing she could say or do would have any -effect upon his resolution. On the last evening, when Mr. Babington, -after a long afternoon with Mr. Chester in the library, stayed to -dinner, the cheerfulness and satisfaction of the master of the house -were visible to everybody. He had the best wine in his cellar out for -his old friend, and talked to him all the evening of “old days,” as he -said, days when he himself had little expectation of ever being the -Squire of Bedloe.</p> - -<p>“But many things have changed since that time,” he added, “and the last -is first and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143">{143}</a></span> the first last, eh, Babington, in more senses than one.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, in more senses than one,” the lawyer said gravely, sipping the old -port which had been disinterred for him with an aspect not half so -jovial as that of his patron, though it was wine such as seldom appears -at any table in these degenerate days.</p> - -<p>“In more senses than one,” Mr. Chester repeated. “Fill your glass again, -old Bab; and, Miss Farrell, stay a moment, and let me give you a little -wine, for I am going to propose a toast.”</p> - -<p>“I am not in the habit of drinking toasts,” said Miss Farrell, who had -risen from her chair; “but as I am sure it is one which a lady need not -hesitate about, since you propose it”—</p> - -<p>“No lady need hesitate,” said Mr. Chester, “for it is to one that is a -true lady, as good a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144">{144}</a></span> lady as if she had royal blood in her veins. You -would not better her, I can tell you, if you were to search far and -wide; and as you have had some share in making her what she is, Miss -Farrell, it stands to reason you should have a share in her advancement. -I have a great mind to call in all the servants and make them drink it -too.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t,” said the lawyer hurriedly; “a thing is well enough among -friends that is not fit for strangers, or servants either. For my part, -I wish everything that is good to Miss Winifred; but yet”—</p> - -<p>“Hold your tongue, Babington; it is none of your business. Here’s the -very good health of the heiress of Bedloe, and good luck to her, and a -fine title and a handsome husband, and everything that heart can -desire.”</p> - -<p>The two ladies had risen, and still stood, Miss<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145">{145}</a></span> Farrell with the glass -of wine which Mr. Chester had given her in her hand, Winifred standing -very straight by the table, and white as the dress she wore. Miss -Farrell grew pale too, gazing from one to the other of the two -gentlemen, who drank their wine, one with a flushed and triumphant -countenance, the other in little thoughtful gulps. “I can’t refuse to -drink the health of Winifred, however it is put,” she said tremulously. -“But if this is what you mean, Mr. Chester”—</p> - -<p>“Yes, my old girl,” cried Mr. Chester, “this is what I mean; and I don’t -know what anybody can have to say against it—you, in particular, that -have brought her up, and done your duty by her, I must say. She has -always been a good friend to you, and always will be, I can answer for -her, and you shall never want a home as long as she has one. But if you -have<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146">{146}</a></span> anything to say against my arrangements, or what I mean to do for -her”—</p> - -<p>Miss Farrell put down the wine with a hand that trembled slightly. She -towered into tremulous height, or so it seemed to the lookers-on. “I say -nothing about the term which you have permitted yourself to apply to me, -Mr. Chester,” she said. “I can make allowance for bad breeding; but if -you think you can prevent me from forming an opinion, and expressing -it”—</p> - -<p>“Be quiet, Chester,” cried the lawyer, kicking him under the table; but -in the height of his triumph he was not to be kept down.</p> - -<p>“You may form your opinions as you please, and express them too; but, by -George! if you express anything about my affairs, or take it upon you to -criticise, it will have to be in some one else’s house.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147">{147}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“That is quite enough,” said the old lady. “I am not in the habit of -receiving affronts. This day is the last I shall spend in your house. I -bid you good evening, Mr. Babington.” She waved her hand majestically as -she went away. As for Winnie, who had endeavoured to stop him with an -indignant cry of “Father!” she turned upon Mr. Chester a pair of eyes, -large and full of woe, which blazed out of her pale face in passionate -protestation as she hurried after her friend. The exit of the ladies was -so sudden after this swift and hot interchange of hostilities that it -left the two men confounded. Mr. Chester gave vent to an exclamation or -two, and turned to his supporter on the other side.</p> - -<p>“What did I say?” he cried. “I haven’t said anything, have I, to make a -tragedy about?”</p> - -<p>“It would have been a great deal better<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148">{148}</a></span> to say nothing at all,” was all -the comfort Babington gave him. The lawyer went on with the port, which -was very good. He thought quarrels were always a nuisance, but that -Chester did indeed—there could be no doubt of it—want some one to take -him down a peg or two.</p> - -<p>“If your daughter does not much like it herself, as seems to be the -case, it’s a pity to set the old lady on to make her worse. And Miss -Winifred wants a lady with her,” he said between the gulps.</p> - -<p>He gave no support to the angry man, hot with excitement and triumph, to -whom this sudden check had come in the midst of his outburst of angry -satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Mr. Chester’s countenance fell.</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean,” he cried, “that she will be such a fool as to go away? -Pshaw! she’s not such a fool as that. She knows on what<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149">{149}</a></span> side her -bread’s buttered. She’s lived at Bedloe these dozen years.”</p> - -<p>“Everybody knows Miss Farrell,” said the lawyer. “She’s as proud as -Lucifer, and as fiery, if she is set ablaze.”</p> - -<p>“Pooh!” said the other; “it is nothing but a breeze; we’ll be all right -again to-morrow. She knows me, and I know her. She is not such a fool as -to throw away a comfortable home, because I called her old girl. Are you -determined, after all, that you won’t stay the night?”</p> - -<p>“I must get home—I must indeed. To-morrow early I have half a dozen -appointments.”</p> - -<p>“Then, if you will go,” said Mr. Chester,—“which I take unkind of you, -for, of course, the appointments could stand, if you chose;—but if you -must go, it’s time for your train.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150">{150}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Thank you for telling me,” said Mr. Babington. He jumped up with a -slight resentment, though he had been quite determined about going away -that night; but then he had not known that there would be this quarrel, -which he should have liked to see the end of, or that the port would be -so good.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151">{151}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HE sound of the brougham rolling along down the avenue, and of the -closing of the great door upon the departing guest, came to Winifred, as -she sat alone, with a dreary sound. Mr. Babington was no particular ally -of hers, and yet it felt like the going away of a friend. Presently her -father came into the room, talking over his shoulder to old Hopkins -about the hot water and lemons which were to be placed in the library -ready for him. “Ten o’clock will do,” he said. It was only about nine, -and Winifred felt, not with transport, that she was to have her father’s -society for the next hour. It was by this time too warm to have a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152">{152}</a></span> fire -in the evening, but yet they sat habitually, when the lamp was lighted, -near the fireplace. Mr. Chester came up to this central spot, and drew a -chair near to his daughter and sat down. He brought a smell of wine with -him, and a sensation of heat and excitement. “Why are you sitting by -yourself,” he said, “like a sparrow on the housetop? It seems to me you -are always alone.”</p> - -<p>“I shall have to be alone in future, papa. Miss Farrell”—Winifred could -not say any more for the sob in her throat.</p> - -<p>“Oh, this is too much!” said Mr. Chester. “Couldn’t she or any one see -that I was a little excited? She must know I don’t mean any harm. That -is all nonsense, Winnie. You shall say something pretty to her from me, -and make an end of it. Why, what’s all this fuss about a hasty word? She -<i>is</i> an old girl if you come to that—But I don’t want any<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153">{153}</a></span> botheration -now. I want everything to be straight and pleasant. We are going to have -company, people staying in the house, and you can’t do without her, that -is clear.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, papa,” said Winifred, “I wish you would not have any one staying in -the house. I don’t know what you meant to-night, but if it is anything -about me, I—I don’t feel able for company. It is so short a time since -poor Tom”—</p> - -<p>“You had better let poor Tom alone. I want to hear nothing more of him,” -said the father. “Mind what I say. I mean to make a lady of you, Winnie; -but if you turn upon me like the rest, I am just as fit to do the same -to you.”</p> - -<p>“I would rather you did than have what should be theirs,” said Winifred. -Her heart was beating wildly in her breast with apprehension and dismay, -and she could not be<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154">{154}</a></span> prudent as she had been bidden to be, nor consent -to be what was so odious to her; but even in the warmth of her protest -Edward’s words occurred to her, and she faltered and stopped, with an -alarmed look at her father. He was flushed, and his eyes were fiery and -red.</p> - -<p>“You are going a little too fast,” he said. “It is neither theirs nor -yours, but mine; and I should like to know who has any right to take it -from me. Now that we’ve begun on this subject, we’ll have it out, -Winnie. You’ve been having your own way more than was good for you. -Perhaps, after all, Miss Farrell, who has let you do as you pleased, can -go, and somebody else be got who knows better what is suitable to a -young lady like you. I can have no more flirtations with doctors, or -curates, or that sort. You are old enough to be married, and I want no -more nonsense. That sort of thing, though<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155">{155}</a></span> it means nothing, is bad for -a girl settling in life.”</p> - -<p>Winifred had turned from white to red, sitting gazing at him, yet -shrinking from his eyes. “Papa,” she said, “I don’t know what you mean,” -in a voice so low and troubled that he curved his hand over his ear, -half in pretence, half in sincerity, to hear what she had to say.</p> - -<p>“What I mean?—oh, that is very easy—you are not a child any longer, -and you must throw aside childish things. I have asked a few people for -the week after next. It’s too early for the country, but I know some -that are soon tired of town; and there is a young fellow among them -who—well, who is very well disposed towards you, and well worth your -catching were you twenty times an heiress. So I hope you’ll mind what -you’re about, and play your cards well, and make me father-in-law to an -earl.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156">{156}</a></span> That’s all that I require of you, my dear; and it’s more for your -own advantage than mine, when all is said.”</p> - -<p>He was very much flushed, she thought, and his eyes almost starting from -his head. Terror seized her, as though some dreadful catastrophe might -happen before her eyes. “Papa,” she said, with an effort, “this is all -very new, and there is so much to think of. Please let it be for -to-morrow. There has been so much to-night—my head is quite confused, -and I don’t seem to understand what you say.”</p> - -<p>“You shall understand what I say, and it is better to be clear about it -once for all. Here is the young Earl coming, as I tell you. He would -suit me very well, and I mean him to suit you, so let us have no -nonsense. If Miss Farrell thinks fit to leave you just when you want -her, she is an ungrateful old—But we’ll find another woman. I mean -everything<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157">{157}</a></span> to be on a right footing when these people turn up.”</p> - -<p>“Papa, of course I shall do all I can to—please your friends.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s the first step,” he said. “And it’s very much for your own -advantage. You would not be my daughter if you did not think of that.”</p> - -<p>She made no reply. If this was all, she was pledging herself to nothing, -she thought, with natural inconsistency. But Mr. Chester was not -satisfied. He drew his chair close, so that the odour of his wine and -the excitement in his mind seemed to make a haze in the air around.</p> - -<p>“And look here, Winnie. It doesn’t suit me to send Edward Langton away. -He’s been a fool in respect to you, and you’ve been a fool, and so have -I, for not putting a stop to it at once. But the fellow knows what’s -what better<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158">{158}</a></span> than most. And he knows my constitution. I am not going to -part with him as a doctor because he’s been a presuming prig, and -thought himself good enough for my daughter. It’s for you to let him see -that that’s all over. Come, a word is as good as a wink.”</p> - -<p>“Father,” Winnie said: she looked at him piteously, clasping her hands -with the unconscious gesture of anguish—“oh, don’t take everything from -me in a moment!” she cried.</p> - -<p>“What am I taking from you? I am giving you a fortune, a title probably, -a husband far above anything you could have looked for.”</p> - -<p>“I want no one, papa, but you. Let me take care of you. I will ask for -nothing but only to stay at home quietly and make you comfortable.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Chester pushed back his chair noisily with a loud exclamation. “Do -you take me<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159">{159}</a></span> for a fool?” he said. “Have I ever asked you to stay at -home and make me comfortable? I can make myself comfortable, thank you. -What I want is that you should do me credit. Your confounded humility -and domesticity, and all that, may be very fine in a woman’s novel. -Taking care of her old father, the sweet girl! a ministering angel, and -so forth. Do you think I go in for that sort of rubbish? I can make -myself a deuced deal more comfortable than you could ever make me. Come, -Winnie, no more of this folly. You can make me father-in-law to a -British peer, and that is the sort of comfort I want.”</p> - -<p>His eyes were red with heat and excitement, the blood boiling in his -veins. The girl’s spirit was cowed as she looked at him, not by his -violence, but by the signs of physical disturbance, which took all power -from her.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160">{160}</a></span></p> -<p>“Oh, papa,” she said, “don’t say anything more to-night! I am very -unhappy. I will do anything rather than make you angry, rather -than—disturb you. Have a little pity upon me, papa, and let me off for -to-night.”</p> - -<p>“To-night?” he said; “to-night ought to be the proudest day of your -life. Who could ever have expected that you would be the heiress of -Bedloe, a little chit of a girl? Most fathers would have married you off -to the first comer that would take you and your little bit of fortune. -But I have behaved very different. I have made you as good as an eldest -son—not that I can’t take it all away again, as easily as I gave it, if -you don’t do your best for me.”</p> - -<p>He swayed forward a little as he spoke, in his excitement, and Winifred, -whose terrified eyes were quite prepared to see him fall down at her -feet, rose up hastily, with a little cry. She put out her hands -unconsciously to support him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161">{161}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh, papa, I will do whatever you please!” she cried.</p> - -<p>Mr. Chester pushed the outstretched hands away. “You think, perhaps, I -want something to steady me,” he said. “That’s a delusion. I am as -steady as you are, and more so, and know quite as well what I am saying. -However, as long as you have come to your senses and obey me, that’s all -I care for. Look here, Winnie!” he said, again sitting down suddenly and -pushing her back into her chair; “I don’t want to be hard upon you. If -old Farrell wants an apology I’ll make it—to a certain extent. I meant -no offence. She’s very useful in her way. She’s a lady, I always said -so; and she’s made you a lady, and I am grateful to her—more or less. -You can say whatever’s pretty on my part; or I’ll even say a word -myself, if you insist upon it. To have her go now would be deuced -awkward. Tell her I meant no<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162">{162}</a></span> offence. I was a little elevated, if you -like. You may take away my character, if that will please her,” he -added, with a laugh. “Say what you like, I can bear it. Getting -everything done as I wished had gone to my head.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, papa, if you had but wished something else! I am not—good enough. -I am not—strong enough.”</p> - -<p>“Hold your tongue. I hope I’m the best judge of my own affairs,” her -father said. Then he yawned largely in her face. “I think I’ll go and -have my whisky and water. It is getting near bedtime, and I’ve had an -exciting day, what with old Bab, and old Farrell, and you. I’ve been on -the go from morning to night. But you’ve all got to knock under at the -last,” he added, nodding his head, “and the sooner the better, you’ll -find, my dear, if you have any sense.”</p> - -<p>Winifred sat and listened to his heavy step<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163">{163}</a></span> as he went across the hall -to the library and down the long corridor. It seemed to be irregular and -heavier than its wont, and it was an effort of self-restraint not to -follow him, to see that all was safe. When the door of his room closed -behind him, which it did with a louder clang than usual, rousing all the -echoes in the silent house, another terror seized her. Shut into that -library, with no one near him, what might happen? He might fall and die -without any one being the wiser; he might call with no one within -hearing. She started to her feet, then sat down again trembling, not -knowing what to do. She dared say nothing to him of the terror in her -mind. She dared not set the servants to watch over him or take them into -her confidence—even Hopkins, what could she say to him? But she could -not go to her own room, which would be entirely out of the way of either -sight or hearing. Sometimes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164">{164}</a></span> Mr. Chester would sit up late, after even -Hopkins had gone to bed. The terror in her mind was so great that -Winifred watched half the night, leaving the door of the drawing-room -ajar, and sometimes starting out into the darkness of the hall, at one -end of which a feeble light was kept burning. The hours went by very -slowly while she thus watched and waited, trembling at all the creakings -and rustlings of the night. She forgot the pledge she had given, the new -life that was opening upon her in the midst of these terrors. Visions -flitted before her mind, things which she had read in books of dead men -sitting motionless, with the morning light coming in upon their pallid -faces, or lying where they had fallen till some unthinking servant -stumbled in the morning over the ghastly figure. It was long past -midnight when the library door opened, and, shrinking back into the -darkness, she saw her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165">{165}</a></span> father come out with his candle. He had probably -fallen asleep in his chair, and the light glowing upon his face showed -it pallid and wan after the flush and heat of the evening. He came -slowly, she thought unsteadily, along the passages, and climbed the -stairs towards his room with an effort. It seemed to her excited -imagination almost a miracle when the door of his bedroom closed upon -him, and the pale blueness of dawn stealing through the high staircase -window proved to her that this night of watching was almost past. But -what might the morning bring forth?</p> - -<p>The morning brought nothing except the ordinary routine of household -life at Bedloe. Mr. Chester got up at his usual hour, in his usual -health. He sent for the doctor, however, in the course of the day, -partly because he wanted him, partly to see how Winnie would behave.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166">{166}</a></span></p> - -<p>“I have the stomach of an ostrich,” he said, “but still that port was a -little too much. To drink port with impunity, one should drink it every -day.”</p> - -<p>“It is a great deal better never to drink it at all,” said the doctor; -but Mr. Chester patted him on the back, and assured him that good port -was a very good thing, and much better worth drinking than thin claret.</p> - -<p>“I believe it is that sour French stuff that takes all the spirit out of -you young fellows,” he said.</p> - -<p>Winifred was compelled to be present during this interview. She heard -her father give an account to Edward of the expected guests.</p> - -<p>“You shall come up and dine one evening,” he said. “You must make -acquaintance with the Earl, who may be of use to you. I shouldn’t wonder -if we had him often about here.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167">{167}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>To Winifred, looking on, saying nothing, but vividly alive to her -father’s offensive tone of patronage, and to the significance of this -intimation, there was torture in every word. But Edward looked at her -with an unclouded countenance, and laughingly assured her father that he -had known the Earl all his life.</p> - -<p>“He is a very good fellow; but he is not very bright,” he said.</p> - -<p>“He may not be very bright, but he is a peer of the realm, and that is -the sort of society that is going to be cultivated at Bedloe. I have had -enough of the little people,” Mr. Chester replied.</p> - -<p>Edward Langton laughed, with the slightest, but only the very slightest, -tinge of colouring in his face. “The little people must take the hint, -and disappear,” he said.</p> - -<p>“But, of course, present company is always excepted. That has nothing to -do with<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168">{168}</a></span> you. You’re professional; you’re indispensable.”</p> - -<p>Young Langton gave Winifred a look. It was swift as lightning, but it -told her more than a volume could have done. The indignation and -forbearance and pity that were in it made a whole drama in themselves. -“I hope I shall prove myself worthy of the exception in my favour,” was -all he said.</p> - -<p>“I have no doubt you will; you were always one that knew your own -place,” said Mr. Chester.</p> - -<p>“Father!” cried Winnie, crimson with shame and indignation.</p> - -<p>“Hold your tongue!” he cried. “The doctor knows what I mean, and I know -what he means; we want no interference from you.”</p> - -<p>It was the first trial of the new state of affairs. She had to shake -hands with him in her father’s presence, with nothing but a look to -express all<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169">{169}</a></span> the trouble in her mind. But Edward on his part was -entirely calm, with a shade of additional colour, but no more. He played -his part more thoroughly than she did—upon which, with the usual -self-torture of women, a cold thought arose in her that perhaps it was -not entirely an assumed part. From every side she had much to bear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170">{170}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">M</span>ISS FARRELL did not add to her pupil’s trouble. When she heard the -state of affairs, she gave up with noble magnanimity her intention of -going away. “You must not ask me to meet any one—till the visitors -come,” she said. “I shall remain to give you what help I can; but you -know my rule. When I am treated with rudeness, I make no complaint, I -take no offence, but I go away.”</p> - -<p>“You would not have the heart to desert me,” Winifred said.</p> - -<p>“No, that is just how it is—I have not the heart; but I will take my -meals in my room,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171">{171}</a></span> my dear. Your dear father”—habit was too strong in -Miss Farrell’s mind even for resentment—“no doubt his meaning was quite -innocent; but we can’t meet again—at all events for the present,” she -added, with much dignity.</p> - -<p>“So long as you do not forsake me,” cried Winnie, and Miss Farrell, -touched, declared “I will never forsake you!” with fervour.</p> - -<p>This added an element which was tragi-comic to Winifred’s distress. With -all the grave and terrible things that surrounded her, the misery of her -new position, the sense of falsehood in her tacit acceptance of all her -father was doing, her fears for him, the chill of alarm of another kind -with which Edward’s composure filled her—there was something ludicrous -in having to provide for Miss Farrell’s retirement into her own rooms, -and the two different spheres thus<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172">{172}</a></span> established in the house. Perhaps it -gave her a little relief in the more serious miseries that were always -so near. It threw a slight aspect of the fictitious into the sombre air -of the house, which seemed charged with trouble.</p> - -<p>But in the meantime the preparations went on for the expected guests. -Mr. Chester meant that they should be received magnificently. Some of -the rooms were entirely refurnished with a luxury and wealth of -upholstering enough to fill even a millionaire with envy. Nothing so -fine existed in the county as the two rooms which were being ornamented -for the use of the very active-minded and energetic woman who was the -young Earl’s mother. To describe the sensation with which Winifred saw -all this is well-nigh impossible. She had been made to consent in -consequence of the arguments used by the very man whose interests<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173">{173}</a></span> were -assailed. But for Edward she would have refused to be any party to the -proposed arrangement—and now she asked herself how far it was to go? -Was she to be forced to consent if a further proposal were made to her? -Was she to be driven to the very church door, in order to avert an evil -which began, to her, every day to appear more visionary? Could it be -that Edward—Edward himself, who had always been the soul of honour in -her eyes—had lent himself to the conspiracy against her? Her heart -cried out so against the coil of falsehood in which her feet seemed to -be caught that life truly became a misery to her—false to her brothers, -false to her father, false to herself. She could not say false to -Edward, since it was Edward himself who exacted this extraordinary proof -of devotion. Every principle in her being rose up against it as it went -on from day to day. She asked herself whether it was doing<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174">{174}</a></span> a less wrong -to her father thus to deceive him by pretended submission than to tell -him the truth even at the risk of an illness. And he had not to her the -least air of being ill. He was a strong man, stronger than almost any -other man of his age, more ruddy, more active. Her head swam with the -multitude of her thoughts. Winifred’s mind was too simple and -straightforward to accept that idea of faith unfaithful. It became like -a yoke of iron upon her shoulders. Mr. Chester grew stronger and more -active, and louder and gayer every day; while she faded and shrank -visibly, unable to make any head against that sea of troubles that -carried her soul away.</p> - -<p>The eve of the appointed visit had arrived, and all the preparations -were complete. Mr. Chester insisted that his daughter should go with him -over all the redecorated rooms to see the effect. “You think perhaps -that this<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175">{175}</a></span> is all for my lady’s gratification,” he said; “that’s a -mistake. It’s for the gratification of Winifred, the new Countess, when -she comes home.”</p> - -<p>“If you mean me, papa”—</p> - -<p>“Oh no, of course not! how could I mean you?” cried her father, rubbing -his hands. “I mean Miss Chester, who is going to marry the Earl. Perhaps -you don’t know that young lady? She will bring her husband a pretty -estate and a pretty bit of money in her apron, and please her father -down to the ground.”</p> - -<p>“But, papa—Oh, I cannot, I cannot deceive you! It is deceiving you even -to seem to—even to pretend to”—</p> - -<p>“You had better hold your tongue, Winnie,” he said sternly. “You had -better not go any farther or you may be sorry for it. You should know -very well by this time what I’m capable of when I’m crossed. But I don’t -mean to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176">{176}</a></span> crossed this time, I can tell you. It would be hard if a man -couldn’t do what he likes with his own daughter. Go along with you, and -don’t speak back to me.”</p> - -<p>“But, papa”—</p> - -<p>“Go, I tell you, before you put me in a passion,” her father cried. And -Winifred was terrified by the glare in his eyes, and the quick recurring -fear that she might harm him took all power from her. She hurried away, -leaving him to admire his upholstery by himself. And that afternoon and -evening her distress reached its climax. She would not consult Miss -Farrell. She would not see Edward. Things had gone too far indeed to be -talked of, or submitted to any other decision than that of her own -heart. Once or twice, nay a hundred times, the desire of the coward, to -run away, occurred to her. But how could she, to think of nothing more, -leave her father in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177">{177}</a></span> the lurch, and expose him to all the comments of -the recent unfriendly acquaintances whom he thought friends? Winifred -was one of those to whom the abandonment of a post was impossible; but -such was the confusion of her misery, that flight, now or at another -moment,—flight alone, hopeless, without leaving any trace behind -her,—seemed to be the only way of escape. At dinner her father seemed -to have forgotten her attempt at rebellion. He talked incessantly of the -guests, rolling their titles with an enjoyment which was half ludicrous, -half pitiful. “You must try and persuade old Farrell to show,” he said. -“She’s very well thought of by all these grandees, and she can talk to -them of people they know—besides, there’s her music, Winnie, that’s -first rate. I’ll come and apologise if she pleases, but we must take -care my lady’s not dull of an evening, and she must show.” He was in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_178" id="page_178">{178}</a></span> -such good spirits that after dinner, with much clearing of his throat, -and something like a blush, he made her sit down to the piano and -accompany him in one of the old songs for which he had been famous -before he began to fear the memory of the singing man at Chester -Cathedral. He had the remains of a beautiful voice, and still sang well -in the old-fashioned style which he had learned when a boy. To hear him -carolling forth a love-song of that period when Moore was monarch, was -to Winnie a wonder and portent which took away her very breath. She -trembled so in her part of the performance that the piano became -inaudible in competition with the fine roll of Mr. Chester’s -grace-notes. “Why, I thought you could play at least,” he said roughly. -“I’ll have old Farrell—she knows what she’s about—to-morrow night.”</p> - -<p>“Well, my dear,” Miss Farrell said, when this<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179">{179}</a></span> conversation was reported -to her, “you know what my feelings are; but I am not dull to the credit -of the family. It being fully understood what my motive is, I shall -certainly appear to-morrow evening, and do my very best to make things -go off well. I will play your dear father’s accompaniment with the -greatest pleasure. He has the remains of a very fine voice, and he has -science, too, though it is old-fashioned. So has your brother George a -beautiful voice; I always wished him to cultivate it. We must do -everything, Winnie, both you and I, to make things go off well. You are -not in good spirits, it is true,—neither am I,—but we must forget all -that for the credit of the house. And how do you think he is himself?” -she added after a pause.</p> - -<p>“He looks very well,” said Winnie. “I see no signs of illness. -Edward”—she paused a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_180" id="page_180">{180}</a></span> little with a faint smile,—“I think I should say -Dr. Langton, for I never see him”—</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear, don’t judge him unjustly!—he thinks that is necessary.”</p> - -<p>“You all think it is necessary,” cried Winnie, with a little outburst of -feeling, “to make me as unhappy as possible. I mean to say that I -think—I hope he is mistaken. Even doctors,” she said, with a smile, -“have been mistaken before now.”</p> - -<p>“That is very true,” said Miss Farrell gravely, and then she rose and -kissed the pale face opposite to her. “Anyhow, my dear, you and I will -do our best for him as long as there are strangers in the house.”</p> - -<p>Winifred was worn out by the strain of these troubled days, and by the -self-controversy that had been going on within her. She fell asleep -early in profound exhaustion, the dead sleep of forces overstrained and -heart stupefied with<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181">{181}</a></span> trouble. She woke suddenly in the early dawn of -the morning, while as yet everything was indistinct. What had woke her, -or if it was any external incident at all that had done so, she could -not tell at first; there seemed a tingle and vibration in the pale air. -Was it the early twittering which had begun faintly among the thick -foliage outside? She listened, rising up in her bed, with an intensity -for which there seemed no reason, for no definite alarm occurred to her -mind. Everything was still, not a sound audible but those first faint -chirpings, interrogative, tentative, from the trees. She was about to -compose herself to rest again, when suddenly there sounded tingling -through the silence the sound of a bell, a little angry, impatient -jingle repeated, tearing the stillness. Winifred was too much startled -and confused to realise what it was, but she got up hastily, and, -throwing her dressing-gown round her, opened her door to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182">{182}</a></span> hear better. -The thought that came first to her mind was, that the summons was at the -door, and that it meant one of the boys coming home. Her heart leaped to -her throat with excitement. The boys had come home at all sorts of hours -in the time which was past, but now, what could this summons be? It came -again while she stood trembling, wondering; and then, with a cry, -Winifred flew along the corridor. Mr. Chester’s room was in the wing, at -some distance from the other sleeping-rooms of the house. Everything was -silent, an atmosphere of profound sleep, calm tranquillity in the dim -air, through which the night-lamp in the hall below burned with a weird -glimmer. The blueness of the dawn in its faint pervasion seemed more -ghostly than the night.</p> - -<p>As Winifred hurried along, another door <span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183">{183}</a></span>opened with a hasty sound, and -old Hopkins stumbled forth. “What is it, Miss Winifred?”</p> - -<p>She had no breath to reply. She put him before her, trembling as they -reached Mr. Chester’s door. She was terrified by the thoughts of what -she might see. But there was nothing that was terrible to see. A voice -came out of the curtains, querulous, with an outburst of abuse at old -Hopkins, who never could be made to hear.</p> - -<p>“Send for Langton,” Mr. Chester said.</p> - -<p>“It’s the middle of the night, please sir,” old Hopkins replied.</p> - -<p>“Send for Langton,” repeated the voice. It had a curious stammer in it; -a sibilant sound. “S—s—send for Langton,” with another torrent of -exclamations.</p> - -<p>The old butler hurried out of the room, muttering to himself, “It will -be half an hour before I can wake one of those grooms, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184">{184}</a></span> he’ll take -the skin off me before that. Miss Winifred, oh, it’s only the doctor he -wants; it’s nothing out of the common!”</p> - -<p>“I will go,” she said.</p> - -<p>“You? But it’s the middle of the night, and not a soul awake.”</p> - -<p>“Is he very ill? Tell me the truth. I will go quicker than any one -else.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Winifred, you’ve no call to be frightened. He’s been the same -fifty times. He don’t want the doctor no more than I do. Oh, goodness, -there he is at it again!”</p> - -<p>Then the bell sent a wild, irritated peal into the air, which evidently -ended abruptly in the breaking of the bell-rope.</p> - -<p>“I will go!” Winifred said, and the old man, relieved, hurried back to -his master. She put on quickly a long ulster, which covered her from -head to foot, and hurried out into the strange coolness and freshness of -the unawakened<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185">{185}</a></span> world. There was no need, she said to herself, but it -was a relief and almost pleasure to do something. The great stillness, -the feeling of the dawn, the faint blue-tinted atmosphere, a something -which came before the light, all breathed peace about her. It was like a -disembodied world, another state of existence in which nothing real or -tangible was. She flew along, the only creature moving save those too -early, questioning birds, and felt in herself a curious elevation above -mortal boundaries, as if she too was disembodied and could move like a -spirit. The strange abstractedness of the atmosphere, the keen yet soft -coolness, the unimaginable solitude possessed her like a vision. She -felt no sensation of anxiety or fear, but seemed carried along upon her -errand like a creature of the air, unfamiliar with the emotions of the -world. As it happened, Langton’s groom was already preparing his -maste<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186">{186}</a></span>r’s horse for some early visit. He stared at Winifred as if she -had dropped from the skies, but made no remark, except that his master -would be ready instantly; and she turned back through the sleeping -village, still wrapped in the same abstraction, walking along as in a -dream. One labourer, setting out to work at distant fields, passed, and -stared dumb and awe-stricken at her, as if she had been a ghost. His was -the only figure save her own that was visible. When she was half-way -home, Edward galloped past, waving his hand to her as he hastened on. -For her part, Winifred felt that there was no longer any need to hurry. -She wandered on under the trees, where now all the birds were awake, -chatting to each other—forming their little plans for the endless -August day, the age of sunshine and sweet air before them, now that -night once more was over—before they began to sing. She was -unspeak<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187">{187}</a></span>ably eased, consoled, rested by that universal tranquillity. The -dew fell upon her very heart. She lingered to look at a hundred things -which she had seen every day all her life, which she had never noticed -before. It was not sunrise as yet; the world was still a land of dreams, -waiting the revelation of the reality to come. Thus it was some time -before she reached the house, and yet she was surprised when she reached -it, having got so far away from that centre of human life with all its -throbbings, into the great quiet of the morning world.</p> - -<p>Something, an indefinable disturbance, a change of a kind which made -itself felt, was in the place. The door stood wide open, a scared groom -was walking Langton’s horse up and down, the windows were still closed, -except one, at which two or three indistinct figures seemed looking out. -There arose a flutter, she could not tell why, in Winifre<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188">{188}</a></span>d’s breast. -She almost smiled at herself for the involuntary sensation which marked -her return from a world of visions to that of real life. Then Edward -Langton appeared coming out, as if to meet her in the open door.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prodigals and their Inheritance; -vol. 1, by Mrs. Margaret Oliphant - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRODIGALS VOL. 1 *** - -***** This file should be named 62464-h.htm or 62464-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/4/6/62464/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - -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. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at -http://gutenberg.org/license). - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -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/license - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at -http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at -809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email -business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact -information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official -page at http://pglaf.org - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit http://pglaf.org - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - -</pre> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/62464-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/62464-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 98f9183..0000000 --- a/old/62464-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null |
