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| author | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2025-11-26 22:46:55 -0800 |
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| committer | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2025-11-26 22:46:55 -0800 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/77349-0.txt b/77349-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..644dca4 --- /dev/null +++ b/77349-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7159 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77349 *** + +Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed. + + + +[Illustration: GWENDOLINE WAS THE FIRST TO LIFT HER HEAD.] + + + + GWENDOLINE + + + BY + + AGNES GIBERNE + + AUTHOR OF + + "ANTHONY CRAGG'S TENANT," "STORIES OF THE ABBEY PRECINCTS," + "THROUGH THE LINN," "NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOURS." + + + _With Three Illustrations by J. Finnemore_ + + + LONDON + THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY + 4 Bouverie Street and 65 St. Paul's Churchyard E.C. + + + + BY THE SAME AUTHOR. + +[Illustration] + + Anthony Cragg's Tenant. + Illustrated. Crown 8vo, + 2s. 6d. + + Next-Door Neighbours. + Illustrated. Crown 8vo, + 1s. + + Stories of the Abbey Precincts. + Illustrated. Large crown 8vo, + 2s. 6d. + + Through the Linn; or, Miss Temple's Wards. + Illustrated. Crown 8vo, + 1s. 6d. + + Easy Lessons on Things around us. + Illustrated. Crown 8vo, + 1s. 6d. + + + + CONTENTS + + [Illustration] + +CHAP. + + I. LONDON FOG + + II. LADY HALCOT + + III. GLADIOLUS COTTAGE + + IV. THE ROCKS + + V. AFTERWARDS + + VI. GWEN'S HOME + + VII. MR. FOSBROOK'S STORY + + VIII. A CALLER + + IX. AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL + + X. WHAT HAD TO BE + + XI. AMID NEW SCENES + + XII. GWEN'S POSSESSIONS + + XIII. TO AND ABOUT HONORA + + XIV. AN ENCOUNTER + + XV. CLOUDS + + XVI. THE CODICIL + + XVII. RICH TOWARD GOD + +XVIII. LONELINESS + + XIX. TO A POINT + + XX. LINGERING ON + + XXI. PARTING WORDS + + XXII. COMING + +XXIII. LADY HALCOT'S WILL + + XXIV. THE OLD HOME + + XXV. WINDINGS-UP + + + + LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + [Illustration] + + GWENDOLINE WAS THE FIRST TO LIFT HER HEAD _Frontispiece_ + + SHE LEAPED BOLDLY IN, STRIKING THE RIGHT SPOT + + LADY HALCOT'S KEEN BLACK EYES RAN SWIFTLY OVER GWENDOLINE + + + + GWENDOLINE + + [Illustration] + + +CHAPTER I. + +LONDON FOG. + +"YOU won't go into the city to-day of course, Stuart?" + +The voice betrayed anxiety. It was breakfast-time, but gaslights shone +overhead, glittering on chased silver and on broad blue borders of +delicate china. Beyond the panes of the two windows only a dense yellow +haze was visible. + +Mr. Selwyn looked up from a deluge of morning correspondence, following +his wife's glance. "It will lessen," he said tranquilly. + +"Just this once," she pleaded. "Such a day! Could you not be content to +spend one day at home?" + +"How about appointments, my love?" + +"I daresay you have none of any importance." + +"Gwendoline Halcombe, at twelve,—for instance." + +"The pretty girl that we met in the Academy with her father? But that +need not take you out. You don't seriously suppose any lady would keep +an appointment in this fog." + +The lawyer's grey eyes laughed pleasantly beneath their broad brows. He +was unlawyer-like in aspect, according to conventional notions, being +strong and upright in build, with ruddy colouring and particularly +straightforward expression. + +"I don't for a moment suppose so of 'any' lady," he said. "I suppose it +to be not improbable in the case of Miss Halcombe." + +"I do not like young women to be too independent,—very young and pretty +ones especially." + +"Perhaps Miss Halcombe does not like it either. Independence becomes a +matter of necessity in certain instances,—with the eldest of ten, for +example." + +"Is she that?" + +"Ten is the number, I believe—ranging from nineteen to three in age." + +"What made her fix on to-day?" + +"She wrote and asked if she might have a few words with me. I named the +day and hour." + +"Why not telegraph to put her off?" + +"That is far from being my only engagement. Also, I could not reach +her. She will be at her painting in the Academy or Kensington, I don't +know which." + +"Painting! Yes, you promised to take me some day to see her drawings. +She is clever, is she not?" + +The lawyer was becoming absorbed in another letter. His wife surveyed +the window afresh, trying to glean encouragement thence. Failing to do +so, the conclusion at which she arrived was uttered aloud, with a sigh +of despair. + +"It is perfectly awful." + +"Eh?" said Mr. Selwyn. + +"The fog! It is awful, Stuart." + +"It is rather thick, but I have seen worse," mildly admitted Mr. Selwyn. + +"If this is only 'rather,' I don't know what 'very' thick may be. You +will never get back from the city alive." + +"That will scarcely be the fate of every city man. I hope I shall be +among the survivors." + +"Oh, Stuart, don't joke about it. Suppose something really did happen." + +She had been married only nine months, and was as yet unaccustomed to +the vicissitudes of the London atmosphere, after twenty-six years in +the clear air of a country village. There was something country-like +still about her soft plumpness and rosy cheeks. She was rather a pretty +little woman, over twenty years her husband's junior. Mr. Selwyn had +been married once before for a brief space, and had spent a long +widowhood before finding a second wife to his mind. He was still in the +prime of life, a lawyer in good practice, a man of considerable private +means, and a general favourite, greatly esteemed by all who knew him +for his unswerving rectitude and for his kindliness of heart. He had +one son, Mortimer by name, four or five and twenty in age. + +"Never expect evils, Isobel. I am an old hand at fogs. But, as you say, +no need to jest. I have a note from Miss Withers. Lady Halcot desires +an interview." + +"Halcot! Isn't she the old lady at Riversmouth, who gives you so much +trouble?" + +"I should not like that description to reach Lady Halcot." + +"Not very likely. I don't know any one belonging to her. And Miss +Withers is the lady-companion, is she not? I remember. What do they +want you to do?" + +"I shall have to run down to Riversmouth to-morrow." + +"So soon?" + +"Lady Halcot expects me to-day. Impossible, unfortunately." + +"I am sure I would rather have you go into the country than into the +city. There would be some likelihood of your leaving this horrible fog +behind you." + +"Yes, but I am tied to city work to-day,—no help for it. I think the +fog shows signs of lifting." + +"I wish I could see them," sighed his wife. + +Mr. Selwyn went to his office as usual, only not so quickly as usual, +for traffic was under serious difficulties, and the promised "lifting" +of the fog took place but slowly. If other people kept to their +appointments that day, however, Gwendoline Halcombe unexpectedly failed +in hers. + + +Riversmouth was a seaside place within tolerably easy distance of +London, but it was by no means a seaside place of the fashionable +description. No railway station existed within four miles of the +village—called flatteringly by some of its inhabitants a "town." No +trim parade was laid down above or below the beetling low cliffs which +overhung the shingly beach, parted by only one sharp and narrow cut, +through which trickled a tiny brooklet beside a rough pathway. Houses +stood irregularly above, tier above tier, and two or three of the +oldest buildings jutted almost over the edges of the cliffs. + +Lady Halcot, the aged owner of the land in and about Riversmouth, +strenuously resisted every attempt at improvement or "innovation;" her +one aim being to keep the place precisely in the same condition as she +had known it sixty or seventy years earlier. The traditions of her +family sternly prescribed "selectness," forbade admission of strangers, +discouraged popularity, abhorred excursionists, fought against social +and religious changes of any kind or description. The old lady strove +to carry out these traditions to the letter, and where she failed, she +lamented sorely. + +That the place had so far increased as to possess two churches in lieu +of one was a distress to her, and no one yet ventured to suggest in her +presence the growing need for a third. She was regularly to be seen +each Sunday, once, if not twice, in the cushioned square pew of the +parish church, where her ancestors had sat from time immemorial; but +she had little to say to the Riversmouth clergy. The Rev. Charles Jay, +of the chapel of ease, she had always disliked and ignored, simply from +the fact that he belonged to a building the very existence of which she +deprecated. The Rev. William Rossiter, of the parish church, appointed +to it by herself some twelve years earlier, had long been honoured with +her friendship and confidence. + +But three or four years ago a change had crept quietly over the dream +of peaceful parish slumbrousness, wherein the old lady delighted. +Nobody knew exactly when or how it began. Only, somehow, Mr. Rossiter's +placid moral essays grew into earnest expositions of Bible truth and +vigorous appeals to his congregation to repent and be saved; also +an active young curate came upon the scene, and Bible-classes were +started, and cottage-lectures sprang into being. + +"Such things as were never even mentioned in my grandfather's days," +Lady Halcot said in her disgust. + +She remonstrated with Mr. Rossiter, but was met by a gentle resistance, +on which she had not calculated. Mr. Rossiter had reached that point +where the question becomes one of obedience to God rather than man. He +would have spoken of a change in himself, and in his views of work to +be done for his Lord and Master, but she would not listen. If he did +not choose to conform to her will, she had nothing more to say to the +matter—or to him. Mr. Rossiter was permitted only to bow and withdraw, +and from that day he was admitted no more at the Leys. He went quietly +on with what he believed to be his duty, scattering the Word of Life to +right and left, as he found opportunity, and meeting with much happy +encouragement at times. But he saw no more of Lady Halcot, except in +her pew and her pony-carriage. She vouchsafed him occasionally an icy +bow in passing; and she studiously placed every possible obstacle in +the way of his labours. It never occurred to her that she was thus +actually hindering work for God. The idea might have startled her, had +she looked it in the face. + +No London fog had found its way to Riversmouth next day, when Mr. +Selwyn stood upon the eastern cliff, enjoying the strong sea-breeze. He +unbuttoned his greatcoat, threw back his shoulders, and drank in large +gulps of salt air, with a Londoner's appreciation of the same. Waves +below were tumbling in, one upon another, with reckless haste, as the +breeze helped onward the rapid spring-tide. There was not a gale, but +the wind possessed sufficient force to whisk off the white wave-crests, +scattering them in small spray around, and to wail weirdly among roofs +and chimney-pots. Rock-boulders lay upon the beach, where at intervals +in the past they had fallen from the cliffs above, and amongst them the +waves splashed roughly, swirling round, and drawing back, and leaving +trails of white foam to die upon the stones. + +A zig-zag flight of narrow steps, guarded by a stout hand-rail, led +down the face of the cliff. Mr. Selwyn, standing at the top, had made +up his mind not to descend, when his eye was caught by a figure below. +"If it is not!" he ejaculated. + +He paused for another look. The figure was that of a girl, standing +upon a low boulder near the margin of the water. Her ungloved hands +were clasped lightly together, and a grey closely-fitting ulster, +swaying in the breeze, encased the slim figure from head to foot. The +neat little feet showed below, and the little head wore a cap of the +same material as the ulster, from beneath which peeped short curly +brown hair. + +"What is she after here?" asked Mr. Selwyn half-aloud. + +He made his way down the steps with no further hesitation, strode over +the crunching shingles, and drew near. She glanced round at the sound +of footsteps, and turned to meet him with a gesture of surprise. + +"Mr. Selwyn!" + +It was a lovely face, oval and delicate, with large brown eyes like +those of a deer, liquid and wistful. The boyish shortness of the hair, +and the severe simplicity of the grey suit, rather enhanced than +detracted from the general effect. + +"You here!" the lawyer said, in accents of unmitigated astonishment. + +"I couldn't help it. I had the chance, and—I came. Was it wrong?" + +"What chance?" + +"Honora Dewhurst offered to bring me for two nights. It is just a +reviving breath. We work together at our painting, and she is my +friend. Mother said I ought to use the opportunity, but I could not +feel sure about the 'ought.' Still—a third-class return doesn't come to +so very much." + +"No, no," Mr. Selwyn assented. + +"Of course we can't really afford it," she remarked ingenuously. +"But then it is a question what one ever can afford. There is always +something else wanted which seems just as needful. If it comes to a +question of necessaries, I suppose one could 'do' in a hovel, with +dry bread and water. But, on the other hand, I can't afford another +illness, and I have felt like that lately." + +"Time you had a change, then. How has the work gone on?" + +"Which work? The 'stitch, stitch' never does go well. Mother and Ruth +have done my share as well as their own the last week, for I just +'couldn't.' And then my painting began to fail, and life was looking +awry, and I began to see it was time for a change, as you say; yet I +could not feel sure. Perhaps I ought to have fought on without it. How +is one to know which is the right thing to do, Mr. Selwyn?" + +She looked at him questioningly. + +"Generally by the exercise of common sense," he said. + +"Is that always enough? Common sense sometimes points in two directions +equally. Mother would tell me to pray to be shown the right way." + +He did not exactly smile. His was not a cynical face by any means; but +his expression for a moment was curious. + +Gwendoline's brown eyes had a sudden flash in them. + +"And mother is right," she said. "For what we want to do is God's +will—of course; and how are we to know what His will is, unless +He shows us? So it 'is' the exercise of common sense to ask Him!" +Gwendoline's bright eyes met Mr. Selwyn's steadily again, seeking to +discover whether he agreed. + +Mr. Selwyn contrived to banish from his face any manner of decisive +expression. He did not wish to enter into a discussion upon this +question. "So you settled to come," he said. + +"Yes, they all said I ought. And, besides, I had another reason—" She +stopped, and coloured brilliantly. + +"Your journey prevented your coming to me yesterday, I suppose?" + +"No; we did not start till the afternoon. I was near your office at +twelve; but I changed my mind." + +Mr. Selwyn showed surprise. + +"I changed my mind," she repeated, looking down. "It was only something +I wanted to consult you about, and just at last I decided not to ask +you. I thought you would discourage me, and I wanted to be free." + +"You would rather not tell me what the 'thing' is?" + +"I'll think about it. Not now, please," she said sedately. Then, with a +sudden change of manner, turning towards the sea, "Oh, that wave!" + +She wrung her hands with delight, as a massive billow rolled in upon +its predecessor, rising in a broad green wall of water, and curling +over to fall with booming crash and hissing swirl. + +Mr. Selwyn uttered a word of warning and stepped back. + +Gwendoline did not move, and the foam rushed in a flood round her feet +and ankles. She said only, "There!" + + + +CHAPTER II. + +LADY HALCOT. + +"WHAT are you going to do now?" + +"I have only this pair of boots with me. It does not matter. Nobody +ever takes cold with salt water." + +"You have shoes, I suppose?" + +"Yes, but I couldn't stay indoors to-day." + +"Where does your friend live?" + +"Honora? She does not live here at all. We are visiting her uncle and +aunt—dear kind little old people, Mr. Selwyn, but not the very least +bit in any august circle of 'society.' It is a mite of a house, some +way from the beach. Honor is coming to me presently. I could not bear +to lose a moment of the sea." + +"But you will go back now, and look to your wet boots," he said, with +polite persuasiveness. + +She gave an impatient gasp, then said, "If I 'must—'" and turned to +spring lightly up the steps. + +At the top they paused. "I wish I could go farther with you," Mr. +Selwyn said. "But I am due at the Leys." + +"I wondered what you were here for. Oh, what a delicious little +carriage!" + +The carriage, low and open, drawn by two exuberant ponies, went past +rapidly. An old lady sat beside the drab-liveried young driver,—small +and shrunken in figure, muffled well in ermine wraps, with thin snowy +hair, bushy grey eyebrows, and two bright black eyes, which scanned Mr. +Selwyn and his companion sharply. + +Mr. Selwyn lifted his hat with an air of profound politeness, and the +old lady's head made a slight movement in acknowledgment of the same. + +"Who is that?" asked the girl. + +"Lady Halcot." + +"It is! Mother wondered if I should see her. She looks—severe." + +"She is severe." + +"She has a splendid Roman nose,—if only she were a taller woman to +match it." + +"When you are a famous artist, you may offer to take her likeness." + +"Ah,—when!" she said, sighing deeply. "The poor old lady will scarcely +live so long. But I really am taking a likeness now—of Mrs. Hobbs, our +grocer's wife. She hasn't exactly classical features, and she wears an +astonishing cap. I am to have a guinea for it, however." Gwendoline +looked up laughingly. + +"Most of us have to begin on the lowest rung of the ladder," said Mr. +Selwyn, liking her courage. + +"I think I am glad to have seen Lady Halcot," she said abruptly. "I +understand better now." + +Mr. Selwyn looked for more. + +"About the state of things. You know I am a believer in physiognomy, +though not always in my own reading of it. But Lady Halcot has a face +easy to make out. If she made up her mind to any one course of action, +she would not soon swerve from it." + +"Your knowledge of the past gives you fair reason for supposing so." + +"I was not sure till I saw her face. But I am now. I am afraid I should +meet with a cold reception, if I ventured to call on her." + +"I fear so, indeed. I could not recommend the step." + +"Good-bye," said Gwendoline. + +He shook hands and passed on. + +Gwendoline stood still, sighing deeply once more. + +"It will not do," she said. "No, it will not do. I have been indulging +in day-dreams. I am glad I did not mention my idea to any one. Things +looked different from a distance, but now I am here, I see it will not +do! I just 'couldn't' take any such step. Mother says one's way always +becomes clear, if one prays and waits. I suppose this is the becoming +clear of my way. It isn't what I wished and dreamed. But to go to the +Leys uninvited!—Oh, no! What was I about, to think of such a thing? +And yet—oh, mother, if I could but bring you ease somehow—anyhow! What +could I not bear for your sake, if only it were God's will!" + + +Half an hour later, Lady Halcot, having reached home, was seated in her +favourite arm-chair,—a large chair for so small a woman. The greater +portion of her time was spent in this plainly furnished morning-room +or boudoir, more correctly a study, since it contained two handsome +writing-tables, besides a davenport, and was almost lined with books. +The study proper, usually called "the library," was seldom used by her. + +Divested of fur wraps, Lady Halcot might be found slightly deformed as +well as small. One shoulder was a little raised, and the shape of her +hands was singular, the knuckles being exaggerated in size. She sat +upright, making no use of her chair-back. The davenport, close beside +her, was covered with correspondence; and one of the said bony hands +wielded a pen rapidly, filling page after page with bold handwriting. + +Opposite the old lady, at the largest writing-table, sat a light-haired +young man, of depressed look and generally timid aspect. + +"You may address these for me," Lady Halcot said suddenly, tossing some +note-sheets towards him. + +The young man's depressed look deepened into positive unhappiness. He +took the letters slowly, examining one after another in a hesitating +manner. + +Lady Halcot surveyed him with her bright cynical eyes, and finally +broke into a—"Well?" + +"I—I—am not quite sure—that is to say—I—" + +"Ring the bell," said Lady Halcot impatiently. + +The young man obeyed with a nervous start of response, and a +man-servant appeared. + +"Call Miss Withers." + +The servant disappeared, and presently came back with a deprecating +air. Miss Withers was out, and had not yet returned. + +"Where is she gone?" + +The man-servant was not aware. Lady Halcot looked at the young man for +information, and with a second start, he immediately turned over a +small inkstand, deluging two of the notes. He stared at the results of +his own awkwardness in blank despair. + +"That will do for to-day," Lady Halcot remarked frigidly. "Give those +papers to me, Bryce. Take care, here is a sheet of blotting-paper. I +shall not require any further assistance this morning, Mr. Withers. You +had better remove the cloth, Bryce, immediately, or the table will be +ruined. Dear me, it is one o'clock. Mr. Selwyn will be here soon." + +"Mr. Selwyn has just arrived, your ladyship," Bryce said, as he +gathered up the ink-bedewed table-cloth. + +"Bring him here to me, at once. You may go, Mr. Withers," for the young +man seemed at a loss what to do. "Cannot you understand? I wish to see +Mr. Selwyn alone." + +Mr. Withers in alarm bowed, and precipitately retreated. Outside the +room, his face assumed a boyish expression of relief, and he sped at +a headlong pace along the broad corridor. Passing below the draped +curtains which divided it from the entrance hall, he nearly ran down +a slim and quiet lady, over thirty, perhaps even over thirty-five, in +age, dressed with unexceptionable neatness, having calm light blue eyes +and smooth washed-out fair hair. + +"Really, Conrad!" she said. + +"I beg your pardon, aunt—didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sure I'm very +sorry," said the dismayed Conrad, staggering back from the collision. + +"Where are you going?" + +"I turned over an inkstand, and Lady Halcot ordered me off." + +"You never get through a day without a blunder of some sort," the lady +said in hushed tones, moving with him towards the ponderous front door. +"Lady Halcot will grow tired of it soon, and dismiss you altogether." + +Mr. Withers looked as if a worse event might happen, in his own +opinion, than such dismissal. + +"Yes, that is all very well," she said. "But think what the +disappointment would be to me—and to your sisters. Remember, Conrad, +you have had difficulty enough before this in finding any work for +which you were fitted." + +"I don't really think I am fitted for this," said disconsolate Conrad. + +"Yes, you are, quite sufficiently, if you would determine to do your +best. You are not brilliant, but you have sense enough for all that +Lady Halcot requires," she said, lowering her voice to almost a +whisper. "What you have to do is to make yourself 'necessary' to her, +Conrad. You understand? Make yourself necessary in her every-day life. +You should be incessantly on the watch to forestall her slightest wish; +yet you must take care never to seem obtrusive. It is far more a matter +of tact and attention than of cleverness. If you let this opportunity +slip, you will never in life have such another." + +Conrad Withers' expression was not responsive, but he said meekly, +"I'll try, aunt; I'm sure I mean to do my best." Whereupon Miss Withers +released him. + + + +CHAPTER III. + +GLADIOLUS COTTAGE. + +MR. SELWYN went through a certain stage of perplexity in Lady Halcot's +presence, as to the immediate cause of his summons to Riversmouth. +Usually her plan was to plunge headlong into business, allowing scant +space for polite greetings beforehand. Now, for once, she seemed +disinclined to speak plainly, and showed an unwonted disposition to +"beat about the bush." Some minor questions were brought up, relative +to the management of her property, but these were questions which might +have been quite as easily discussed by post. Mr. Selwyn was perfectly +well aware that they had not yet come to the point. He began to doubt +whether after all he would get away by the early afternoon train, which +he had set down in his mental plan. + +"You have Miss Withers still with you," he remarked, when a pause +occurred in the conversation. + +"Yes, I have," responded Lady Halcot. "With me, and likely to remain. +She is an invaluable person. I can rely entirely upon her memory, and +my own plays me false occasionally. I suppose I must expect as much at +my age." + +"You are to be congratulated, Lady Halcot, if it never played you false +until now." + +"I do not say that, but my memory has been remarkably good. Time +was when I could read a stanza once through which I had never seen +before,—not a short one, either,—and repeat it afterwards without a +mistake. I cannot do so now." + +"And Miss Withers' memory serves to fill up gaps?" + +"Precisely so." She looked at him keenly. "You do not like Miss +Withers." + +The lawyer made a slight deprecating bow. "Pardon me! Miss Withers and +I can boast but the barest possible e acquaintance with one another. +You appear to find her well suited to her post." + +"She is exactly that—quiet and ladylike, always helpful, and never in +the way. I wish Mr. Withers were her equal." + +"Your secretary?" + +"He calls himself so. I allow him to hinder me in my work for two or +three hours every day, by way of giving satisfaction to Miss Withers. +She foretells that the hindering is soon to develop into helping. I +have my doubts, but I am willing to give him a fair trial." + +"Miss Withers is a near relative of Mr. Withers?" the lawyer said +inquiringly. + +"His aunt. He has two sisters, I believe, but no parents living. +Miss Withers seems to have acted a motherly part to the three. Very +praiseworthy, of course. Mr. Selwyn—" + +Now it was coming! The lawyer looked expectant. + +"Who was that charming girl upon the cliff yesterday—speaking to you? I +was not aware that you had friends in the place." + +"She 'is' a charming girl—a London acquaintance, down here for two +days. We met accidentally on the shore," Mr. Selwyn said slowly, his +mind taking a rapid survey of the situation. + +"I was struck with her appearance. A clever girl, I should imagine." + +"Yes—in many respects, no doubt, and she certainly has marked artistic +talent." + +Lady Halcot's withered face brightened with a look of interest. +"Talent?" she repeated. "Not genius?" + +"Perhaps I should rather have said genius,—but really I do not know. I +imagine that she has power to originate, though at present she chiefly +copies. It is uphill work, and she is the eldest of a large family." + +"What is her father?" + +"A clerk, Lady Halcot." + +"In your office?" + +"No,—in a house of business. I have only seen him once. He is much +occupied, and has very poor health. I do not know what would become of +them all if he broke down." + +"Then they are poor. What is their name?" + +"They are poor unquestionably. If this young lady succeeds by and by—" + +"As an artist!" Lady Halcot shook her head. "How old is the girl?" + +"Not twenty yet, I believe." + +"She may get butter to her bread by picture-making ten years hence,—and +possibly a competence twenty years later. That is all you can hope from +even first-rate talent. Possibly a competence." + +"Some do better." + +"Some have genius. Has she it, or not? That is the question. You do +not know,—no, but I could soon judge. How long does she remain? Only +till the day after to-morrow? And of course she has no pictures here. +I might be able to give her a helping hand, if there is genuine power. +I never lend my aid to passing off mediocrity for genius. We must +consider what to do. Meanwhile,—if you think it would be acceptable,—I +have no objection to sending a five-pound note to the parents." + +Mr. Selwyn decided on his line of action. "I think, your ladyship, that +it would unquestionably be acceptable if sent direct from yourself, +with a few kind words accompanying." + +"Very well. The name and address, if you please." + +She passed a slip of paper and a pen. Mr. Selwyn wrote slowly and +handed it back. + +"James Halcombe, Esq." + +Lady Halcot read so far aloud, stopped, and lifted her black eyes to +Mr. Selwyn's face. Inwardly he was just a little nervous. Gwendoline +Halcombe interested him, and he was anxious to do his best for her; but +naturally he did not wish to offend his wealthy client. + +"James Halcombe," repeated Lady Halcot. + +"Gwendoline Halcombe's mother, and James Halcombe's wife, 'was' Eleanor +Halcot." + +The old lady's start was irrepressible, and her hand shook, but she +said in a stern and unfaltering voice, "Then Eleanor Halcombe is dead?" + +"No—she is living. I meant 'was' only in the sense of before her +marriage." + +Lady Halcot folded the paper, and slipped it into a drawer, with hands +that trembled still. She was evidently vexed with herself for the +display of weakness. + +"You may send the five-pound note for me, if you choose," she said. +"But it must be a strictly anonymous gift. I was not aware that you +knew these people, Mr. Selwyn." + +"Mr. Halcombe called on me once to consult me upon a difficulty, and +his daughter has been two or three times since. Also, I have met her in +the Royal Academy and elsewhere. One is naturally drawn to a struggling +young artist." + +Lady Halcot offered no reply. The luncheon-bell rang, and she rose +to lead the way out of the room. The express object of Mr. Selwyn's +journey had not yet been broached. + + +Gwendoline had truly described Gladiolus Cottage as "a mite of a +house." It had one tiny parlour in front with a single window, and a +tinier kitchen on the same level behind, and two bedrooms above, and +two sloping-roofed garrets at the top, one of which was the servant's +domicile, and the other a receptacle for lumber. Of the two best +bedrooms, one was tenanted by Mr. and Mrs. Widrington; the other was +reserved for guests. + +Mr. and Mrs. Widrington had no children of their own. One little +baby had come and had vanished, in days long gone by, leaving tender +memories behind it. Mr. Widrington, after fifty or sixty years of +steady work, had made his little competence, and had retired into an +easy life, his chief trouble thenceforward being to know what to do +with himself. He had many a longing for his old city home and old +interests. The sleepy quiet of Riversmouth palled upon him, and the +rumble of carts and omnibuses would have been as music to his city-bred +ears. But the step, once taken, could not easily be reversed, even so +far as a home was concerned, and could not be reversed at all so far as +business was concerned. + +Thus, Mr. Widrington found himself in for the somewhat tiresome leisure +of a healthy and objectless old age. Literally and actually objectless. +His leading aim through long years past had been to make enough money +for present needs, and to secure a sufficiency for comfort in declining +years. He had made enough; he had secured the sufficiency; and +declining years were coming upon him gently. What next? + +That was the question. Mr. Widrington had no "next." He had attained +to his life-goal, and no loftier goal lay beyond. He was conscious of +this, and he was dissatisfied in the consciousness. Hitherto a pleasant +prospect had always lain ahead, in the shape of this same "comfortable +old age," spurring him on to exertion. He had lost the spur now, and +he missed the stimulus. The happiest old age cannot last for ever, and +Mr. Widrington began to dislike the thought of being an "old man," to +object to the term being used in respect of himself. + +For there lay now no pleasant prospect ahead. Mr. Widrington was not +exactly troubled by fears as to his future. He counted himself to have +done his duty, on the whole, towards himself, towards his family, +towards his neighbours; and—towards God? Mr. Widrington did not care +to look very closely into that last question, but he hoped things were +all right, and he hoped to get to heaven somehow, a vague and shadowy +heaven, not particularly attractive to his imagination, only, of +course, desirable. + +Thus, Mr. Widrington's hopes, as well as his heaven, were vague. He had +also a vague knowledge of his Bible, which he seldom read, and a vague +belief that Christ had died for men generally. But in all this he found +no real comfort for the future or joy for the present. How should he? +So Mr. Widrington, though to superficial observers seemingly a chatty +and contented old man, was in fact by no means a happy one. + +The change of life to Mrs. Widrington was less severe. A stout little +old lady, good-humoured and kind, often ailing as to health, but always +even in spirits, she could be well satisfied with the mild excitements +incidental to "pottering" about the house all the morning, taking a +turn out of doors in the afternoon, knitting and sleeping through the +evening. The comforts of husband and household had been her aim during +nearly half a century, and that aim was before her still. She had not +even a wish for anything beyond this tame level of her existence. + +A visit from Honora Dewhurst was a great event in their lives, and the +interest of the event was doubled by the presence of Honora's friend, +Gwendoline Halcombe. + +"She 'is' a pretty girl, and there's no denying it," Mr. Widrington +said emphatically, as he and his wife awaited the return of the two +walkers to early tea; a primitive tea of bread and butter and cake, +shrimps, and water-cresses. "She's a downright pretty girl, and +uncommon nice too. Now there's Honor, as good and nice a girl as can +be, and clever too, there's no denying, for her pictures are amazing +good. But nobody ever called Honor pretty. The goodness is all of an +inside sort, and not of an outside—though it shows through, and no +mistake. But this young thing has got both, and there's no doubt she's +greatly favoured. For a pleasant outside is by no means a thing to be +despised." + +"I wonder if they don't mean to come back soon. The tea will spoil," +rather irrelevantly observed Mrs. Widrington, who, dressed in her best +black silk, was seated in her easy-chair, with the invariable knitting +in her plump round hands, and the invariable content on her plump round +face. Mrs. Widrington was better born than her husband, and forty-five +years earlier her family had counted the marriage a serious downward +step for her. Perhaps for a while she had felt it so herself. People +grow used to new levels, however, and Mrs. Widrington was most happily +accustomed to the platform upon which she stood. She looked up to +her husband with dutiful wife-like submission; and if in particular +instances she usually counted her own judgment superior to his, this +was not at all because of any original difference in social position, +but simply because she was a woman, and he was, as she would have said, +"only a man." + +"There they come,—just in time," Mr. Widrington said, gently striking +his hands together, as he stood at the window. "Just you look, wifie; +now don't you call that a pretty picture?" + +Mrs. Widrington moved to his side obediently. "But it's a dreadful +mess," she said. + +The two girls were approaching at a quick pace, laden with spoils from +the seashore. Honora Dewhurst, a strongly-built and upright person, +four or five years Gwendoline's senior, walked steadily as well as +swiftly, looking little to right or left. But Gwendoline, dressed still +in her severe grey suit, seemed to be rippling over with frolicsome +enjoyment, and the sound of her clear laugh came through the open +window, and was matched by the half-dancing step. Honora's hands were +full of stones and shells, and Gwendoline bore a big pile of sea-weeds. +One long ribbon spray had been caught by the breeze and twisted round +her head, and the brilliant cheeks and merry eyes looked out from an +unwonted surrounding. + +"She's better for the change already," Mr. Widrington said, and he +opened the door. + +"We are not fit for the drawing-room," exclaimed Gwendoline. "Our +boots, Honora!" + +"Now you are going to have some tea before ever you take one step +up-stairs," said Mr. Widrington decisively, avoiding his wife's eyes, +lest he should read disapproval. "Just you throw all that rubbish down +in the passage, and take off your cloaks." + +Neither would consent to this manner of proceeding. Possibly they +saw the disapproval in another quarter, of which he preferred to be +ignorant. They vanished up-stairs, and speedily reappeared, Gwendoline +still in a glow of enjoyment, Honora quiet and staid, with her plain +strong face, and broad forehead. + +"And you like the sea, my dear, eh?" Mr. Widrington said to Gwendoline. + +"It is lovely, past words," she said. "If I could just live within +sight and hearing of it, I think I should want nothing else in life." + +"It's lively, there's no doubt," said Mr. Widrington. "But it isn't a +cheerful sort of liveliness, by any manner of means. Now you'll think +me odd, maybe, but I'd a deal rather have a 'bus going past the door +every five minutes, than I'd look on the finest sea that ever was,—a +deal rather." + +Gwendoline refrained from remark. + +"Riversmouth is a pretty little place, and it has got capabilities. +Take some cresses? Yes, do, Miss Halcombe, and lay your butter on +thick, and have a little jam a-top; don't you stint yourself. Yes, +Riversmouth's a pretty place. But, dear me, as long as that poor old +lady is alive, the village will never grow to what it should be. Why, +it might become a first-rate watering-place of the fashionable sort in +no time; just lay down a double line of rail, and put up a station, and +have a good band and an excursion train or two in the week. Now that +'would' be lively-like." + +The two girls exchanged amused glances. Honora Dewhurst knew of the +relationship between Gwendoline and Lady Halcot, though the Widringtons +did not. + +"My dear, you needn't suppose anything of that sort is likely to be," +Mrs. Widrington said. "There are ever so many things wanted in the +town, and nobody dares name them to Lady Halcot. She has everything her +own way, and not a man ventures to cross her will. She's regular queen +here, and that's what it is." + +"I am afraid some of her subjects are in a rebellious state of mind," +said Honora. "But as for excursionists, the longer the place can escape +that infliction the better. Here comes a visitor to disturb our meal." + +"Mr. Selwyn!" exclaimed Gwendoline. + +"A friend of yours, Miss Halcombe?" asked Mr. Widrington. + +"Yes—at least, I know him. He is a friend really. He is down from +London for a few hours,—Lady Halcot's lawyer." + +"My dear, you take an old man's advice, and you beware of lawyers," +whispered Mr. Widrington very audibly, as the door-handle turned. "You +take my advice, and be warned. There's always a six-and-eightpenny +charge behind, sure as he takes a step in your behalf. And I may say +it, if anybody may, for I know it to my—" + +"Mr. Sellon," announced the bewildered maid-servant, unused to so much +company. + +And Mr. Selwyn entered, bowing and apologizing for the interruption, +but might he have a few words with Miss Halcombe? + +"To be sure, to be sure, as many as ever you please, sir," Mr. +Widrington said eagerly, forgetting that he addressed a lawyer, and +delighted with a fresh addition to the party. "But we are having our +tea, and tea is a beverage that doesn't improve by keeping beyond a +certain stage,—not beyond a certain stage, sir,—and these young ladies +are hungry. So you just sit down, and take a cup of tea with us, and +then we'll all clear out—eh, wifie?—and leave you two in undisputed +possession of the parlour." + +Mr. Selwyn was slightly troubled. "The parlour" was evidently the only +parlour, and he did not relish the idea of "turning out" its lawful +inmates, though he would much have preferred a few words alone with +Gwendoline. He sat down, however, and consented to take a cup of tea, +declining substantials. "I dine at half-past seven," he said. + +"You will hardly reach home in time for your dinner," suggested +Gwendoline. + +"Lady Halcot has persuaded me to remain over the night. I must leave by +the 7.20 train in the morning." + +"Mrs. Selwyn will be disappointed." + +"I am afraid so. I have just sent her a telegram." + +After a few minutes of general conversation, he turned again to +Gwendoline, having decided to forego the private conversation. "I bring +you an invitation, Miss Halcombe. Could you dine at Lady Halcot's this +evening?" + +"This evening!" The proposal seemed to take away her breath, and she +turned pale. + +"You would dislike it?" asked Mr. Selwyn, while Honora watched her +gravely, and the old people were flustered at the magnitude of the +proposal. + +"No—oh, no!—not at all. I am only—surprised," said Gwendoline, hardly +able to speak. She sat quite still for two seconds, putting a strong +restraint upon herself. "I will do exactly what you advise." + +"I should recommend you to accept the invitation." + +"To-night, at half-past seven?" + +"Punctually. Lady Halcot never waits. I think you should arrive ten +minutes earlier." + +"But I have no dress, except this." + +Mr. Selwyn surveyed the dark tweed, neatly fitting, but almost devoid +of ornament. Heavy trimmings were just then in vogue, and he was dimly +conscious of something unusual. + +"It must do, of course," he said. "I suggested that matters might be +so, and Lady Halcot said you could come as you were." + +Gwendoline sat lost in thought, and Mr. Selwyn rose, with the air of a +man who has discharged himself of his office. + +"Gwen, you had better open the front door for your friend," suggested +Honora, guessing that the two might wish for a few more words; and she +kept her uncle back, and shut the parlour door. + +"What does this mean?" asked Gwendoline, laying her hand on the slab, +for she was positively trembling. + +"It means simply that Lady Halcot desires to use this opportunity to +form your acquaintance, Miss Halcombe." + +"How does she know that I am here?" + +"She saw you with me on the cliff this morning, and has since inquired +your name." + +"Strange," murmured Gwendoline. "I had a feeling when I came that I +might perhaps see her—might perhaps say a word about—" + +"A word about what, if I may ask?" + +"My mother, and our circumstances. But I found that it would be +impossible." + +"I think you would be wise to count it impossible still," Mr. Selwyn +said with gravity. + +"But if an opening came—" + +"I think you will, in any case, be wise to avoid a single word which +might leave an impression that you were seeking anything from her. +Pardon my frankness," he said, as the colour rushed again into her +face. "I understand the state of affairs, and your true motive; but she +would not." + +"Thank you, I will take care," said Gwendoline in a low voice. "I don't +suppose I should have dared, after all. I am frightened of Lady Halcot." + +"Don't be afraid to-night," he said, shaking hands. "She is interested +in art, so you will have one subject in common. The carriage will bring +you home at half-past nine. Lady Halcot keeps early hours—excusable at +seventy-five. Good-bye." + +"One word," said Gwendoline hurriedly. "Mr. Selwyn, do you suppose she +means anything by this?—Do you think it hopeful?—Do you think we may +count—for the future—" + +"No," Mr. Selwyn said at once. "I should be wrong to encourage hopes. +What may come of it by and by no one can predict. At present I see no +signs whatever of any softening towards your family, though she is +disposed to feel some interest in yourself personally." + +Gwendoline sighed. "Thank you—good-bye," she said; and she went back to +the parlour. + +"Honor, would it be very rude of me to run away to the shore for half +an hour? I don't want to be nervous and shy at dinner, and a look at +the sea would give me back my balance." Gwendoline spoke beseechingly. + +"You silly child," Honor said, smiling. "Yes, go, of course; only come +back in good time. I must find some lace for your throat and wrists." + +"You don't mean to say you are a friend of Lady Halcot?" the old people +chimed in, with accents of respect and amazement. "Why, you are quite a +grand young person, my dear. Fancy never saying a word about it!" + +Gwendoline laughed and vanished. "Her mother is Lady Halcot's cousin," +Honora said quietly,—"first cousin once removed, I believe. But it had +better not be talked about in Riversmouth, please, uncle. Lady Halcot +has had nothing to say to Gwen's mother since her marriage with Mr. +Halcombe. I don't know who was most in the right or in the wrong. I +only know that the less said about the matter, the better pleased Lady +Halcot will be—and probably Mrs. Halcombe also." + +"Trust a city man to keep a secret, Honor," said Mr. Widrington, +nodding his head energetically. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE ROCKS. + +HONORA came into the back bedroom ten minutes later, to find her +friend, attired in ulster and cap, gazing out of the window into a +little back yard. + +"Dreaming, Gwen?" she asked. + +"Yes," Gwendoline said, turning, with something like tears in her eyes. +"Doesn't it sometimes feel to you as if life itself were more than half +a dream?" + +"No," Honora answered. "It seems to me altogether a tremendous reality." + +"I know it is so. But sometimes I feel as if we were just leaves tossed +to and fro on irresistible waves of circumstances—straws carried away +on a strong current." + +"Is Lady Halcot's invitation an irresistible wave?" asked Honora drily. +"Why not say no at once?" + +"Say no! I am only too eager to go, only too frightened lest I should +make a mistake, and undo possible good for my mother and father by some +silly blunder. I can't guess what Lady Halcot wants or expects in me. +If I get a self-conscious fit, it will take away all ease; and if I +talk too much she will count me forward; and if I talk too little she +will find me dull." + +"And if she does, what then?" + +"You don't know how much may depend upon this evening, Honor," said +Gwendoline deprecatingly. + +"You mean—" + +Gwendoline's cheeks were burning again. "She ought to be kind to my +mother. She ought to be willing to help. I would not say this to +anybody except you, but mother was her adopted child for twenty years, +and everybody thought she would be heiress to some of the property. I +suppose she would have been, but for—but for—her marriage. Can it be +right for Lady Halcot to cast her utterly off?" + +"I suppose your mother took her choice, Gwen," said Honora gently and +gravely. + +"Yes, and it was not Lady Halcot's choice. But Lady Halcot allowed the +engagement for a time, and then refused permission, and turned against +my father. That is where the wrong lay. It was tyranny, Honor. Could +mother have forsaken him? Could you have given him up in her place?" + +Honora moved her head negatively. "Had Lady Halcot a reason?" she asked. + +"She had not known before that my father's family were so poor, and she +disliked some of his connections, I believe. It was nothing in himself. +She ought to have inquired more fully before giving permission. Once +given, she had no right to withdraw it,—for such a reason, at any rate." + +"And she has held no intercourse with your mother since?" + +"None; not a word or a message. She told mother that it would be so, +that if the marriage took place she would never see her or speak to +her again. Mother has not the faintest hope that she ever will. She +says she never knew Lady Halcot change in her purpose, or forgive an +offence. But sometimes I have thought that if I could see Lady Halcot, +I might persuade her to feel differently." + +"She might be willing to help, even if she would not be on former +terms," said Honora. "This looks like a possible step in that +direction." + +"If it only were—if it might be!" said Gwendoline, in a low voice. +"I have such a craving sometimes just to see a possible way out of +our difficulties. I feel like the man who was shut up in a room, and +saw the walls drawing slowly nearer and nearer, day by day, till at +last they crushed him to death between them. That story always had a +dreadful sort of fascination for me, and now I seem to see the walls +closing and closing in. And we cannot escape; and I can do nothing. +Lady Halcot could help so easily; it would be nothing to her. If I +stood alone, I could fight my way, and I would scorn to wish for one +farthing of her money. But the pressure is terrible now, and it gets +worse and worse. Mother is wearing out under it; and father—Honor, I +don't think he ever forgets that he is the cause of my mother being cut +off from ease and luxury." + +"And you are looking to yourself to bring about a reconciliation? Gwen, +if I were you I would 'lift up mine eyes' higher." + +Gwendoline was silent. + +"The thing is not in your hands at all. It is in God's hands. The chasm +may be bridged over any day, if He so will. And He may will to use you +for the purpose. If not—" + +"Ah!" sighed Gwendoline. "That 'if not' is my difficulty." + +"Because you are bent upon having it your own way. But you cannot +choose. It must be His doing; and it must be done, inch by inch, as He +wills. Better be content to have it thus, Gwennie dear,—to rest quietly +under the shadow of His hand, and to let Him order things for you as +He sees best. The walls will not close in and crush you, if you are +waiting on Him to know the way out, but they may be allowed to come a +little nearer. And the way of escape may be other than this." + +Honora spoke in an earnest manner, and she laid a hand lovingly on +Gwendoline's arm. It was a true and close friendship between the two, +and Honora had not only a warm affection for this fair young creature, +but a strong desire to shelter and protect her. Practically she could +do little, however. She was a portionless orphan herself, and had to +make her own way in the world. + +"I ought to be able to trust," said Gwendoline. "We have always been +helped so far,—only when I look forward, and see things growing worse, +I am afraid." + +And Honora said softly, "'Be not afraid;' 'Let not your heart be +troubled.' 'Trust in Him at all times.'" + +She added, after a pause, "I suppose we are so changeable ourselves +by nature, that we really cannot imagine what absolute changelessness +means. Gwen, your Master will not love and care for you one whit less +to-morrow than He did yesterday. Only be willing to have things brought +about as He chooses, and then follow carefully each indication of His +guidance. The quieter you can be in heart, the less likely you are to +undo His will for you by rash action. He knows what is best." + +"It does seem as if it would be so very much best for Lady Halcot to +forgive mother," said Gwendoline sadly. "Not that I like the word +'forgive.' I cannot think my mother was wrong." + +"It might or might not be best. You and I don't know. Now you are +going to have your little run, and you will come back the better for +it. I wish I could go too, but I must not leave my uncle and aunt. +By-the-bye, I thought it best to speak plainly of your relationship to +Lady Halcot, that I might warn them not to talk. I know you do not wish +your affairs to be made the subject of Riversmouth gossip." + +Gwendoline went off somewhat soberly, taking her course down the +crooked principal street, through the cliff-opening, and over the beach. + +The tide was at its full height, and, indeed, was already on the turn, +and the breeze had somewhat increased in strength since the morning. +Waves of considerable size rolled in, to break upon the shore in +a succession of crashes, grinding the rounded pebbles. Three poor +children, neatly dressed, a boy and two girls, were playing near the +margin of the water, and two fishermen were loitering on the top of the +cliff; otherwise, the shore appeared to be deserted. Gwendoline, fresh +from city crowds, revelled in the sense of stillness, and delighted in +the freedom of being thus practically alone. + +Somewhat to the right of the cliff-opening, a long line of jagged +rocks ran straight out into the sea. Gwendoline could not resist the +temptation to climb along them. She did not find the task quite easy; +for, though at low-water they lay high and dry, they were now a very +focus for splashing waves. Albeit a Londoner, she had a sure foot and +steady brain, and she feared no slips. A dash of fine salt spray now +and then was exhilarating; but she managed to keep her feet dry. At +the further extremity of the chain a huge square boulder rose well +out of the water, and here Gwendoline found for herself a comfortable +seat. One or two passers-by, noting her from the cliffs, counted her +rather an adventurous young woman, and were relieved to see her reach +a place of safety. A false step half-way might have entailed serious +consequences. + +Gwendoline gave herself up to enjoyment—not exactly to thinking. Trains +of clear thought, definitely carried on, are not often induced by the +presence of Nature in her fairest moods. The mind is at such a time +rather receiving new impressions than working out old impressions. +Gwendoline was content to sit with clasped hands, thinking definitely +about nothing, but drinking in with her lips the sweet fresh air, and +drinking in with her eyes the varying blue tints of sea and sky, and +drinking in with her ears the grand bass chords and softer treble +accompaniments of the musical symphony played upon the pebbles by +breaking waves and splashing waters; while vague musings crept unbidden +through her mind. And the sense of restful trust in a Father's love, +which she had not quite felt while Honora was speaking, seemed now to +fill her heart. + +"For He made all this," murmured Gwendoline. "How easy for Him to do +just what He wills!" + +Gwendoline's dreamy happiness was suddenly broken in upon by a sharp +shriek. The little children on the beach, observing the movements +of the young lady, had apparently been fired thereby to follow her +example. Two of them were perched timidly on a rock at the beginning +of the range, and showed small inclination to proceed farther; but the +third, a boy of about seven, had succeeded in reaching nearly half-way +towards the end boulder. There his footing slipped, or his presence of +mind failed; for, with the scream which disturbed Gwendoline, he fell +over, still grasping a point of rock with both hands. + +The children wailed piteously, and Gwendoline sprang up. "Hold +tight—hold on—I'm coming!" she cried, though doubtful whether her voice +would reach him through the ceaseless splashing of the water. And even +as she spoke, a large white-crested billow swept past, and the boy was +torn away. + +The accident had been seen from the top of the cliff, and men were +hurrying down the steps, but Gwendoline knew there was no time to be +lost. She stood perfectly still, considering what to do. Would the +child be flung on the beach? For a moment she thought so, and then gave +up the hope—if hope it were, since such a manner of landing must have +been perilous to life and limb. The tide had by this time thoroughly +turned, and the flow of the stream was seaward. As the wave passed on, +to boom upon the shingles, the child was left behind, and the next +instant, in the strong return-rush of water, he was borne farther back, +to give a moment's sport to the following wave. Then he disappeared, to +rise again near the boulder on which Gwendoline stood. + +She had not been idle. In that brief space of time, while her eyes were +strained in watching, she had flung off gloves, boots, and ulster, and +had even dropped the skirt of her dress. She knew well that her only +hope of keeping afloat, if the attempt proved needful, would be to find +herself as far as possible unencumbered. She could swim, having learnt +as a child, but she was entirely out of practice. + +Would the little figure come within reach? Gwendoline gave a glance at +the shore, and saw help still distant. Then she knelt down at the edge +of the boulder; but that would not do. She flung herself flat, and hung +over, with outstretched arms, striving to grasp him, but in vain. The +waves, tossing him to and fro, seemed to mock at her efforts. + +Down again into the green water the little form was helplessly sinking, +and another broad billow was rolling up. Gwendoline felt that one hope +only remained. She sprang to her feet, took one steady look, and leaped +boldly in, striking the right spot, and seizing the child. The two went +down together, and rose again, just as the big wave came up to catch +them in its grasp, rolling them over, bearing them on, then leaving +them in its rear. + +Beaten and breathless, Gwendoline found her unpractised swimming powers +of small avail. She could just keep herself afloat, and that was all. +Even that could not be for long. Her best efforts were directed towards +holding the mouth of the unconscious child above the waves; but water +dashed over her own face, blinding and choking her. Would help never +come? Was this to be the end? Gwendoline thought of her mother, and +dimly pictured the coming sorrow in her home. Then she remembered Lady +Halcot, and even wondered what the old lady would think, not to see her +at dinner that evening. A vision of her last unfinished painting rose +next, surrounded by a halo of girlish aspirations, perhaps never to be +fulfilled. Again she found herself in the grasp of a powerful wave, and +she knew her strength was gone. All around grew dark, and she felt that +she and the child were sinking together. Yet in the deadly struggle for +breath there came sweetly the thought of One who had died on the cross +for her; for Gwendoline knew and loved and trusted Him, and He never +fails His own. + +Then something grasped and drew her out of the water; and someone took +from her the little body to which she had so resolutely clung; and +somebody else wrapped a cloak round her, and laid her at the bottom of +the boat. Gwendoline was conscious of so much; and she even opened her +eyes, and saw the weather-beaten faces of three fishermen, and also a +grave face of a different stamp, bending over her. But after that, she +knew no more. + + + +CHAPTER V. + +AFTERWARDS. + +"HONOR! Is the child safe? Oh, Honor!" + +Gwendoline started up in bed to a sitting posture, suddenly awake to +the situation. She had been dimly conscious of her whereabouts for an +hour past, conscious of very sick and weary sensations, and of moving +figures around her; conscious also of an indefinite sense of fear from +time to time, which made her cling to her friend's hand for protection. +She had not, in her exhaustion, yet remembered what had occurred, or +thought of asking about the child. But as she lay half sleeping, with +the pleasant protectiveness of Honora's cool hand clasping hers, clear +recollection flashed all at once into her mind. + +"Honor! What am I about? I had quite forgotten. Is the boy safe?" + +"Keep quiet, Gwennie. You are under doctor's orders," said Honora. + +"What doctor? Why, I am not ill." + +"Mr. Fosbrook. You have been quite well the last hour, haven't you, +Gwen?" + +Gwendoline's mind travelled back. "I had forgotten. But I am all right +now. How about the boy?" + +"Mr. Fosbrook is with him. They are doing all they can," said Honora +gently. + +"Then he has not come to yet? I did my best, my very best," said +Gwendoline sorrowfully. "I could not manage to hold the poor little +head higher; and that last wave nearly did for both of us, I think. He +was longer in the water than I. Is there no hope for him?" + +"They do not give up hope. He may revive even now. If not, you will +still know that you did your utmost. The men cannot say enough about +your courage." + +"Courage! That is nothing. I couldn't have stood by to see him drown. +Oh, Honor, if it has been useless after all! I do wish I had tried a +little harder." + +"It was not possible. Don't take a morbid view of the matter, Gwen. You +endangered your own life for his, and you could not have done more. The +result must be in God's hands." + +"Poor little fellow! I wonder if he has a mother," Gwendoline said. +Tears were dropping—a rare event with her; but she had been unnerved. + +"Not a mother, I believe—only a sister who takes the place of a mother. +I have been too busy with you to learn particulars. I will go now, and +see how he is, if you can promise to keep yourself quiet meantime." + +She found efforts being still carried on, with unremitting vigour, +as yet unsuccessfully. Mr. Fosbrook, a man of about forty, thin, +but well-knit, with sallow complexion and observant eyes, was alike +directing operations and taking an abundant share in them himself. His +assistants were Mr. Widrington and the three sailors. Mrs. Widrington +flustered hither and thither, procuring whatever was asked for, and +making numberless suggestions which nobody heeded. + +No time had been lost, for Mr. Fosbrook had happened to pass at the +very moment of the accident, and he was himself the fourth man in the +boat which put off to the rescue. But the small figure lay still to all +appearance lifeless, and one and another was silently giving up hope. +Honora stood unnoticed for a few seconds near the door. + +"I'm afeared it's all up with him, poor little chap," one of the men +said. "I don't see as it's much use keeping on." + +"Nor I," said Mr. Widrington, though he did not venture to stop +rubbing. "I could tell from the first it wouldn't be no good. Trust me +to know! He's dead, wifie." + +Mrs. Widrington put her handkerchief to her eyes. Mr. Fosbrook had +stooped low, to place his ear over the child's heart, and he stood up +now, with a sharp glance round. + +"Keep on. Don't slacken for an instant. Heat more flannels! It is 'not' +all up with him." + +"Do you mean to say he is alive, doctor?" exclaimed Mrs. Widrington. "I +shouldn't have thought it, now. Poor dear little man." + +Mr. Fosbrook held again to the parted lips a tiny feather, brought +to him by Honora. "See," he said; and there was indeed a faint stir +visible. + +"Why, so he is! Why, he isn't dead after all!" exclaimed Mrs. +Widrington. "Now I am glad. And that brave girl won't have risked +drowning for nothing. Do you think we may say he is out of danger, +doctor? I should like to send word to his sister, poor thing! And +wouldn't you like me to get some beef-tea or something ready? I +shouldn't wonder if the butcher's shop was open still, and Mary Jane +could run for a pound of beef. He'll want something when he comes to. +What do you think, Honor?" + +Mrs. Widrington's excited little patter of talk seemed to be unheard by +Mr. Fosbrook, but at the last word he turned himself about. + +"Miss Halcombe doing well?" he asked, looking at Honora. + +"She is quite herself, and very anxious about the child." + +"Tell her there are signs of life. I hope we shall bring him round yet." + +Honora went swiftly back to bear the message, and to spend another +hour of suspense by Gwendoline's side. Gwendoline said little, only +lay with eager eyes and tremulous lips, watching for tidings. Once or +twice Mrs. Widrington fluttered in, carrying a gentle bustle with her, +and assuring them that the little boy was getting on beautifully; a +statement somewhat modified by a very audible whisper to Honora, that +"she didn't believe he would ever get over it, and she could see the +doctor thought so too." + +"And he's a clever man, is Mr. Fosbrook," she added aloud for the +benefit of both; "and a kind one, though he is rather positive, and +says a sharp word sometimes. But I'm sure he'd do anything for anybody, +if he thought it right. I wonder he don't marry, for he's getting on +in life, and he looks sickly, as if he wanted somebody to take care of +him. Only think, Honor, the poor little boy hasn't any mother living, +and his father was drowned at sea only last year; wouldn't it have +been strange if he had been drowned too?—And he would have been if it +wasn't for this brave girl. And there's a sister who takes care of the +three children, and she is lame or something, and can't come to him. +They say she is half-frantic, poor creature, she cares so much for this +boy. He's a pretty little fellow, and I don't wonder. She must be a +great deal older than these younger children. I wonder if she's only a +half-sister. Now don't you make yourself unhappy, Miss Halcombe. I'll +soon come back with more news." + +But Mr. Fosbrook himself came next. His first move was to take +Gwendoline's hand, and to shake it gently. + +"I congratulate you with all my heart on having saved a life," he said. +"You have acted nobly." + +Gwendoline's lips twitched, and she laughed in a nervous manner. "If I +saved one, you helped to save two," she said. + +"Ay, but not at the risk of my own. There is a slight difference, Miss +Halcombe. You ought to have a Humane Society's medal." + +"Oh, no, no, thank you! I should not like any fuss," said Gwendoline. +"Nothing of that sort. But I am so glad. Poor little boy." + +"Is he quite out of danger?" asked Honora. + +"Quite out of immediate danger. I cannot answer for after consequences." + +"Honor," Gwendoline said softly, a little later, when they were again +alone, "I did not know that the purpose of my coming to Riversmouth was +to be this. I expected something quite different." + +"I suppose there is always a purpose in each step of our way," said +Honora. "But God's purpose for us and our own purpose for ourselves are +often not identical." + +Gwendoline smiled assent, and seemed indisposed to carry on the +conversation. Honora was glad to see her growing sleepy; but suddenly +the sleepiness vanished, and she started up. + +"Honor!" + +"What is the matter?" + +"Dinner at Lady Halcot's." + +"Past eleven o'clock, Gwen, so I am afraid you can't go now." + +"No, but seriously—was no excuse sent?" + +"I am sorry to say I forgot all about it till an hour ago, and then it +was too late. Besides, we really had no one to spare for a messenger +earlier in the evening. We must despatch a note of explanation in the +morning." + +"I am not going to have any stir made," said Gwendoline resolutely. +"My part of the affair was only just doing what I had to do, and what +anybody else must have done in my place. I shall tell Lady Halcot that +I had an accidental wetting, and that I was very sorry not to go to +her." + +To this plan she adhered when morning came. Honora would have preferred +a little more explicitness, but Gwendoline shrank from any appearance +of boasting, and the note was despatched as she wrote it. + +"I don't see as the thing matters either way," Mr. Widrington said to +his niece. "News travels apace, and her ladyship is sure to hear the +story before many hours are over,—take my word for it." + +Mr. Widrington was mistaken, so far as hours were concerned. +Riversmouth news did not always reach Lady Halcot quickly. She fenced +herself round with an enclosure of distant reserve, and few ventured +to address her uninvited. Miss Withers heard the tale, of course, but +Miss Withers did not repeat it, and for many days Lady Halcot believed +that Gwendoline had made use of a trivial excuse to set aside her +engagement. Such a belief implied displeasure on the part of Lady +Halcot. + +So also thought Mr. Selwyn. He returned by an early train, having +not even seen the note which Gwendoline sent. He ascribed her +non-appearance at dinner to a fit of girlish shyness or pride, and +was alike vexed for her and disappointed in her. He had counted Miss +Halcombe to be rather superior to some feminine weaknesses. + +Gwendoline's return home suffered only a day's postponement. She was +somewhat shaken by her adventure, and the doctor counselled longer +delay; but Honora could not remain, and Gwendoline would not consent +to be left behind. She wrote home lightly of what had occurred, making +little of the matter, and Honora, by her request, did not write at all. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +GWEN'S HOME. + +"I DON'T see that your Riversmouth trip has done much for you. If it +was a pleasure, you seem disposed to keep the enjoyment to yourself. +Certainly you are not looking any the better for it." + +Ruth Halcombe, the speaker, was a blunt-mannered girl of seventeen, +two years Gwendoline's junior, and in most respects a contrast to her +elder sister. She was the useful and practical member of the household, +and she prided herself on so being. Everybody in the house depended +more or less on Ruth, yet none looked to her for sympathy. The boys +went to Ruth for buttons and strings, but they carried all their little +confidences to Gwendoline. There was a touch of hardness about Ruth +which repelled people. She was affectionate below the surface, but she +had no tenderness of manner; and she had not yet learnt that usefulness +may co-exist with beauty, and practicalness with poetry. Gwendoline's +restless pantings and aspirations were "sentiment," in Ruth's opinion. + +Gwendoline had returned two or three hours earlier to find herself +suddenly plunged into the little whirl of home cares and the big swirl +of London life. + +The low roar of the latter struck her forcibly, after the quiet of +Riversmouth. Londoner that she was, she never grew reconciled to +perpetual sound, never attained to Ruth's happy condition of not +hearing it, never ceased to feel oppressed by the great city and its +unceasing tumult. She had such a thirst for stillness, and there was no +stillness in her life. Out of doors and indoors, Gwendoline could never +be alone. To her finely-strung nature, solitude at times was more than +a pleasure—it was a positive necessity; yet it was almost unattainable. + +For Mr. Halcombe's income was very narrow, and his house was very +small; and he had a wife, three daughters, and seven sons, not to +speak of a little maid-servant. Lady Halcot possessed her abundance of +large rooms absolutely unused; but in this narrow dwelling with its +dingy outside closed in by other houses to right and left and front +and rear, there was not a corner where one might be secure against +interruption. The elder boys were away all day, it is true: Victor in a +counting-house; Jem, Edmund, and Fred at school; but so was Gwendoline +away most days at her painting, and when she came back, they came back +also. And the four youngest children, Artie, Willie, Bob, and Nell, +were always at home, Ruth being their teacher. So Gwendoline spent her +time in a crowd. + +The sense of overcrowding, and the pressure of home cares, had come +upon her heavily that afternoon, as she found herself once more within +the hall door. + +Gwendoline knew that some fresh trouble was brewing. She knew it before +she had been five minutes at home. Not a word was said which might +suggest the idea, but she read it in her mother's burdened look, and in +the extra sharpness of Ruth's tones. She saw that they wanted to spare +her a little while, and she heard her mother whisper softly, "After +tea, Ruthie." There was no leisure as yet for any quiet conversation, +and Gwendoline wisely asked no questions. + +The narrow dining-room, with its worn-out chairs and its carpet of +undistinguishable pattern, had a crowded appearance at meal times. The +boys were healthy and merry enough, and chatter flowed on unceasingly, +but life's cares seemed to have pressed hard upon the father and +mother. Mr. Halcombe was a frail man, thin and stooping, with a shadowy +likeness to Gwendoline, almost lost in the anxious wrinkles which +furrowed his brow and drew down his mouth-corners. Mrs. Halcombe was +a little slight woman, exceedingly worn, yet with a kind of habitual +cheeriness about her; never perhaps pretty even in the past, but always +refined and sweet-mannered. + +Mr. Halcombe and Victor had a mutton-chop each, in consideration of +their day's work, and Mr. Halcombe ate his slowly, with an abstracted +and mournful air, while Victor, a tall lad of sixteen, talked and +laughed over his in untiring fashion. Ruth stood at the foot of the +table, dispensing hunches of bread from the huge quartern loaf, +and generally overlooking the other six boys, varying in ages from +thirteen-years-old Jem to six-years-old Bob. The fairy-maiden, Nell, +with her sweet eyes and sunny hair, sat in her three-years-old +queenship close beside the tea-making mother, idolized by all. + +"Gwen is tired," Mrs. Halcombe said, in response to Ruth. "It has been +such a bustle ever since she came in. I wish we could have arranged +differently." + +"It has been the same as usual, I suppose," said Ruth. "Gwen must take +home as she finds it—like other people." + +"Ruth always has an appropriate moral ready for every occasion," said +Victor. "I say, Gwen, did you see anything of the old lady down there?" + +Mrs. Halcombe had not asked the question, but Gwendoline saw the quick +quiver of her eyelids. "I saw Lady Halcot pass in her pony-carriage, +Victor." + +"Did she speak to you?" + +"No,—she looked—" + +"And that was all?" + +Gwendoline had not meant to give particulars just then, but she could +not answer in the affirmative. + +"Lady Halcot saw me standing with Mr. Selwyn," she said. "He was down +for the day, and we had met. She asked him afterwards who I was, and +she sent an invitation through him, asking me to dinner. That was all. +I meant to tell mother presently." + +"A weighty 'all,' too, in my opinion," said Victor. + +Mrs. Halcombe could not trust her voice. + +Mr. Halcombe looked up slowly, and asked, "What did it mean?" + +"I am afraid it did not mean much, father. Mr. Selwyn told me not to +count upon it—at least, I think he meant that. Still, it was very +disappointing that I could not go. I sent a note next morning, with an +explanation; but I had no answer." + +"You don't mean to say you allowed a paltry wetting in the sea to keep +you away?" exclaimed Ruth, in a tone of strong disapproval. + +"I could not help it, Ruth." + +"I would have helped it in your place. How you 'could,' Gwen! When you +knew how much might depend on your pleasing her! If your dress was not +fit to go in, surely Miss Dewhurst would have lent you another. Why, it +seems like insanity!—Such a chance thrown away!" + +"I was very sorry, but it was impossible," repeated Gwendoline, +flushing. "I was in bed all the evening." + +"I would not have been there, I can tell you. And not even an excuse +sent till next morning." + +"No, it was forgotten. I didn't think about Lady Halcot when I first +came to myself,—and the rest were all too busy with the child and me—" + +Gwendoline's agitation under Ruth's reproaches betrayed her into saying +so much, and then she paused. For a moment nobody seemed quite to take +in the meaning of her words. Mr. Halcombe was the first to speak. He +had been looking at her steadily, and he now put aside the little boy +between him and Gwendoline, and moved to her side. + +"Gwen, my child," he said in his depressed manner, "this has been more +of an affair than we know. You are quite unnerved and poorly. What is +it, my dear?" + +Gwendoline's face went down on his shoulder, and she clung to him, +trembling. + +"I saw that she was not herself, directly I came in," he said. "Ruth, +you must not be so hard upon your sister. She would not have stayed +away without good reason, I am sure. What is this about 'coming to +yourself,' Gwennie? You don't mean that you were long enough in the +water to lose consciousness." + +"It couldn't be helped, father," said Gwendoline, lifting her face, and +speaking hurriedly. "I did not want to make a fuss about the thing. It +was only that a little boy fell in, and I had to go after him. There +was nobody else near enough, and he would have been drowned. They got +out a boat as quickly as possible, and came after us, just in time. I'm +not a good enough swimmer for such waves, and I couldn't have held out +any longer. I don't think I was long insensible, and it was more of a +faint than anything else, but the poor little boy was very long coming +round, and somehow nobody remembered Lady Halcot. I never thought about +her at all until eleven o'clock at night. The doctor would not let +me get up next day until the afternoon—not that I was ill, only weak +and shaky. He was very kind, and so was everybody. But I really don't +think I could have gone to see Lady Halcot even yesterday, and I had no +answer at all to my note." + +"My own brave girl," said Mr. Halcombe; and he folded her in his arms. +"Thank God for it—and for His bringing you through. Yes, there are +worse troubles than even money troubles,—you spoke truth, Nellie." This +was to his wife. "If our Gwen had been taken from us! Thank God for His +mercy." + +"Why, Gwen's a heroine!" Victor exclaimed. "Well done, Gwen! We shall +all be proud of you." + +"There's no need. It was just the natural thing to do," Gwendoline said +shamefacedly. + +"You never told us you had been in danger, Gwen," her mother said, with +full eyes. + +"I didn't see the need to write, mother—more than just a few words. +And the danger was soon over. Honor said she meant to call soon and +tell you everything. But don't feel as if I could bear to talk about it +yet," Gwendoline added, with whitening lips. "The very thought of the +sea brings it all back, and turns me dizzy. Can't we speak of something +else?" + +"Gwen had much better go into the next room and be quiet," Ruth +said, with a touch of apology for her own harshness. "Why don't you, +Gwen?—and mother too. You will like a chat, and I'll look after +everything." + +Gwendoline did not protest. She gave Ruth a grateful look, and went, +followed by Mrs. Halcombe. It was not the household custom to dispute +Ruth's mandate in lesser matters. + +"Mother," Gwendoline said, making early use of her opportunity, "what +has happened since I went away?" + +"A good many things have happened, Gwen." + +"Yes; but you can't take me in," Gwendoline said, looking stedfastly +into Mrs. Halcombe's faded eyes. "Something particular has +come—something that troubles you and father very much. I see it +plainly. You can't take me in, mother darling. I must know, or I shall +lie awake all night, wondering. It is easier to bear the truth than +one's own fancies." + +"Not always, Gwen," her mother said. + +"Almost always, I think. Is it a money trouble, mother?" + +Mrs. Halcombe tried to answer, and her voice failed. She could only +press Gwendoline's hand. + +"It must be something very bad indeed, for you to feel it so much," +said Gwendoline gravely. "Tell me all, please. It is worse to wait." + +"I wish I could make you wait," Mrs. Halcombe said with a sob. "Oh, +Gwen, it is hard to bear up. God will surely provide for us. I have +told myself so again and again, the last day or two, and I have tried +hard to be brave—to trust. But it is a sore trial of faith. I cannot +see what we can do. I cannot see any way out." + +"What is it, mother? Don't mind crying, but just tell me." + +That Mrs. Halcombe should fail in her cheery self-command, at +least before others, was an event rare indeed, and Gwendoline was +proportionately dismayed, yet proportionately anxious not to be herself +betrayed into tears. + +She repeated earnestly, "Don't be afraid, mother. We shall be +helped—surely—somehow. Only please tell me what is wrong." + +"It is at the bank. They have told your father that they will not want +him any more—any more—after Midsummer." + +"Mother!" + +Gwendoline could say no more. She was absolutely paralyzed. Her first +sensation was as if she had been sinking again among ocean waves, as +if literal billows were rising around her and taking away her breath. +But she only uttered the one faint word, and then sat, white and still, +till power of breath and speech came back. Mrs. Halcombe's face was +hidden in her hands. + +"Father dismissed! But what for? What has he done?" asked Gwendoline, +in distress. + +"Nothing. It is not anything that he has done. They spoke kindly—said +they would give the highest testimonials. But they are making some +changes, and they want a younger man in his place. Your father says +it is natural. He says he has grown old and slow lately, and has been +forgetful and made mistakes. He is wearing out. But oh, Gwen, it is +very very terrible! What shall we do? How shall we live?" + +"If I had seen Lady Halcot!" muttered Gwendoline's quivering lips. "If +I had not tried to save the child's life! Mother, it couldn't be wrong +to do that!" she broke out passionately. "It couldn't be wrong! I would +do it again, no matter what might come after. But why didn't I go to +Lady Halcot next day? If only I had not been so shy, so foolish." + +"It might have made no difference. I do not suppose she would help us, +Gwen." + +"Honor would tell us to look higher—to trust. Mother, God won't forsake +us. He will bring us through somehow. There may be better days ahead. +But it is terrible. Poor poor father!" + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +MR. FOSBROOK'S STORY. + +LADY HALCOT sat in her favourite room, beside her davenport, writing +letters—an occupation which filled many hours of each day. She was an +active old lady, mentally as well as bodily, and took a keen personal +interest in everything which concerned her estate and her tenants. + +The letter-writing did not advance so well as usual this morning. Lady +Halcot looked more than wontedly pale, and her bony hand trembled +visibly. She laid down her pen and took it up again several times, as +if struggling against the weakness. + +The placid fair-haired Miss Withers sat in the bow-window, over a small +work frame, and her eyes travelled repeatedly towards the old lady. She +said at length, "Would you like me to send for Conrad?" + +"What for?" asked Lady Halcot. + +"I thought he might be a help; you seem scarcely equal to your work +this morning." + +"If I am not equal to the task of managing my own brains, Miss Withers, +I certainly am not equal to the task of managing Mr. Withers' brains." + +Miss Withers bore the remark meekly. After a pause she gave utterance +to a low sigh, and a gentle, "Poor Conrad." + +"He does his best. I am quite aware of that," said Lady Halcot, in a +manner half satirical, half conciliatory. "He may improve in time. At +all events, we can hope so a little longer. When did Mr. Fosbrook say +he would be here?" + +"At about eleven." + +"Half-past eleven now. I shall not wait in for him much longer." + +The pen was laid down again, and Lady Halcot leant back with a tired +look. + +"I think you have done too much lately," said Miss Withers. + +"It is not 'doing.' Work never hurts me. I have a difficulty in making +up my mind—" + +Miss Withers said, "Yes?" + +"I shall have to send for Mr. Selwyn again. His last visit was thrown +away. I could come to no conclusion." + +"About—?" said Miss Withers. + +"Certain alterations which I desire to have made in my will. What else +should I mean?" + +Lady Halcot was, as a rule, reserved to a fault about her own affairs; +but occasional little fits of unpremeditated frankness were among the +signs of old age creeping over her. Miss Withers showed no excitement, +but her pale blue eyes watched the face of Lady Halcot intently as a +cat watches a bird. + +"I supposed it was a question of some distant heir-at-law with you," +she said slowly, and with seeming indifference. + +"You supposed rightly, as regards the title and the landed estate. But +I have also property at my own disposal. However, there is no need to +carry on the subject. It concerns myself alone—only sometimes I have a +wish to get things settled and off my mind. I am not so young as I was, +and responsibilities weigh more upon me than they once did. Be so good +as to order the pony-carriage to be ready for me in half an hour, Miss +Withers. I shall not wait any longer for Mr. Fosbrook." + +Miss Withers moved in her soft and gliding fashion to obey. She was +absent about ten minutes, and on coming back the sound of voices told +her of the doctor's arrival meantime. Miss Withers waited outside a +little longer, and then re-entered the boudoir. + +"Mr. Fosbrook does not think there is much the matter with me," Lady +Halcot said, turning her head. "Not a break-up yet, by any means—eh, +doctor? I am to take a tonic for a week or two. Not that I believe in +tonics at my age. But it will do no harm. Mr. Fosbrook is giving me +quite a glowing description, Miss Withers, of a young lady rescuing a +little boy from drowning last week in Riversmouth. I cannot imagine how +I have escaped hearing of it sooner. Did no report of the adventure +reach your ears?" + +"A mere report,—nothing of consequence," Miss Withers said +hesitatingly, with a faint blush. "I imagined it to be an exaggerated +story." + +"The courage and self-devotion of the young lady were hardly capable of +exaggeration," Mr. Fosbrook said. + +"Mr. Fosbrook is quite carried away by his admiration," said Lady +Halcot. "But we may depend upon the correctness of an eye-witness. +Go on, doctor, if you please; or stay—begin again, for Miss Withers' +benefit." + +Mr. Fosbrook obeyed without reluctance. He spoke quietly, and with +no superabundance of adjectives; but as he described Gwendoline's +position, and her brave plunge into deep water, his sallow cheek +glowed, and a curious light shone in the old lady's black eyes. + +Yet Lady Halcot's first remark at the close of the tale was cynical. +"So you were the rescuer, after all! Quite a poetical finale, Mr. +Fosbrook. I suppose we may expect a third volume to the novel." + +Mr. Fosbrook suddenly resumed his cool professional manner. "You were +not present, Lady Halcot. If you had been—but time is getting on." + +"Not twelve yet. Wait a minute," said Lady Halcot. "That girl ought to +have a medal, Mr. Fosbrook." + +"So I said; but she would not hear of its being made known." + +"She can't help it. Such a deed must become known. I will take action +in the matter myself. What is her name, and where does she live? 'A +young lady' you call her." + +"She was down in Riversmouth merely for a day or two,—quite a stranger +to the place. Her name is Halcombe—Gwendoline Halcombe." + +Mr. Fosbrook was, of course, aware of the relationship between +Gwendoline Halcombe and Lady Halcot; doctors usually hear the little +ins and outs of such matters. It was hardly likely that he should have +practised sixteen years in Riversmouth, though originally not a native +of the place, without knowing the tale of Lady Halcot's displeasure +towards her niece. But he betrayed no consciousness in word or manner; +and whether or no Lady Halcot believed in his unconsciousness, she did +not betray herself either. + +"Gwendoline Halcombe," she repeated. + +"A young artist from London, whom I believe you kindly purposed taking +some notice of, Lady Halcot." + +"Mr. Selwyn had mentioned her to me. Yes, I invited her to dinner, +and she did not come. There was a note next morning, which spoke of +an 'accidental wetting' in the sea as the cause. I confess I was +displeased." + +"The 'accidental wetting' was of a serious nature," said Mr. Fosbrook. + +Lady Halcot sat considering, some strong feeling visible through the +quick motions of her eyebrows. + +"A pretty girl," she said at length, half to herself. + +"Very pretty and ladylike," assented Mr. Fosbrook. + +"Yes—ladylike. One could see that at a glance. The story interests me a +good deal, Mr. Fosbrook, I like heroism, and I like to see it rewarded. +Gwendoline Halcombe interests me also. Perhaps I may get her down here +some day on a visit. She must be a girl of character. Yes—I should not +mind seeing something more of her. What do you say to the idea, Miss +Withers?" + +"I have not the pleasure of Miss Halcombe's acquaintance," said Miss +Withers, trying to cover an unhappy expression with a smile. "She may +no doubt be the kind of young person who would suit your ladyship." + +"Young person!" said Lady Halcot, with an astonished air. + +And, when Mr. Fosbrook was gone, she added, "You seem to forget that +Gwendoline Halcombe is my relative." + +"I did not know your ladyship wished the fact to be remembered," +faltered Miss Withers. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A CALLER. + +DINNER was just over at Mr. Selwyn's,—a well-appointed and well-ordered +meal, always. Mr. Selwyn liked to have things "nice" about him, and he +could afford to have them as he wished. He was tired with his day's +work, not knocked up and exhausted, but just comfortably tired, able +to enjoy the thought of a reposeful evening. Mrs. Selwyn, in a happy +flutter of silk and lace, had made her way into the drawing-room, and +thither the two gentlemen, father and son, had speedily followed her. + +The son was very little younger than his step-mother, and he and +she appeared to be on extremely pleasant terms. It would have been +difficult to be on any other terms with Mortimer Selwyn. He was a +thorough gentleman, sweet-tempered almost to a fault, fastidious on +certain points, but never exacting. Many counted Mortimer a singular +man. He was slightly lame, and had passed a sickly boyhood. Strange +to say, he had never been put into any profession. Mr. Selwyn through +many widowed years had shrunk morbidly from parting with his only +son. Mortimer was long counted unfit for hard work, and, his mother's +property being settled upon him, his future was amply provided for. So +he had lived on at home, year after year, with no definite work in life. + +No definite work, that is to say, provided for him by others. A plan +which would have been utterly detrimental to ninety-nine young men in +a hundred had had no ill results with Mortimer. For he was by nature +a man of thoughtful purpose and of literary tastes; and he was, "not" +by nature, a man of high Christian principle. To fritter away his +time in self-pleasing was not a possibility with Mortimer Selwyn. The +work which had not been provided for him, he provided for himself. +The life-aims which had not been set before him, he sought out and +found. Strong as was the affection which existed between father and +son, it was by no means the affection of unity in tastes, or likeness +in manner of thought. Mortimer cared not a whit for the law, and +Mr. Selwyn had small interest in his son's pursuits. Truth to tell, +the latter were legion in number, and leisure was necessary for the +appreciation of them. Mr. Selwyn was a man of no leisure, and a man of +one primary pursuit, Mortimer was a man of boundless leisure, which +yet never implied idleness, and of multitudinous pursuits; among which +literature, science, and philanthropy held no doubt the foremost places. + +Also, on religious points the two did not agree. Mr. Selwyn was not +without a certain amount of religion, professed, and perhaps, so far +as it went, genuine. He was very reserved on such topics, and possibly +felt more deeply than he allowed to appear. But he counted office-work +and religion to be matters necessarily kept apart, to be in their +nature "wide as the poles asunder;" the inevitable consequence of which +view was that religion found itself in a small corner, the chief space +in his time and thoughts being monopolized by "work." + +Mortimer, on the contrary, was one whose very life was impregnated with +religion, whose every word and action were as in the presence of the +living God. He lost nothing in manliness by this; rather, he gained by +it. But for this high consciousness, but for his vivid realization of +the great realities of life and death and the future beyond, he might +have sunk into a mere self-indulgent invalid, or, as health came to him +in an unemployed youth, have rushed into a career of self-indulgent +evil. + +He was not much of a religious talker. He "could" speak, of course, +and with glowing earnestness, on the things which most occupied his +mind, but he rarely spoke uninvited, and never thrust his opinions +upon unwilling hearers. There was no need. Mortimer's manly pleasant +face spoke for itself; and the manner of his daily life had a clearer +utterance for the honour of his Master's Name than any mere words could +have had. Neither did he say much at any time about at least one chief +part of his work in life. People heard of his coming and going, and saw +his interest in science and literature. But of the many poor whom he +visited, the sufferers lifted out of want by his hand, the struggling +toilers helped onward, the gifts silently given where needed,—of these +the world in general knew nothing at all, or heard only a whisper here +and there by accident. + +A fire had been lighted, more for cheerfulness than from necessity, +since it was a warm spring day; and Mrs. Selwyn sat near it, making +believe to get through a little fancywork, in reality hoping for +conversation. She hoped for some time in vain. Mortimer was deep in a +periodical; and Mr. Selwyn apparently was deep in thought. He broke out +suddenly, after a long pause,— + +"You women are the most irrational beings—sometimes." + +"Thanks!" Isobel said drily. + +"Especially for the last qualifying word," added Mortimer, lifting a +pair of amused eyes. "What unfortunate female has aroused your ire +to-day, father?" + +"I was merely thinking of my trip to Riversmouth last week, and of Miss +Halcombe's extraordinary conduct." + +"Miss Halcombe does not give one the impression that she is an +irrational being exactly." + +"I should have supposed her to be a young woman of remarkable sense," +said Mr. Selwyn. "But to throw away such an opportunity! However, it is +done now, and cannot be undone. She will never have another." + +"Is the old lady so vindictive?" asked Isobel. + +Mr. Selwyn moved his shoulders. "Lady Halcot counted herself slighted. +That was all." + +"Miss Halcombe couldn't possibly have gone to the Leys in a +draggle-tailed condition," said Isobel. + +"Miss Halcombe had no business to become draggle-tailed," said Mr. +Selwyn. + +"Why, Stuart, I shall be quite frightened of you. I did not know you +could be so severe." + +The lawyer's face relaxed into a smile. "Was I severe? My regrets +are all for Gwendoline Halcombe's own sake. She is a charming girl, +and might have won the old lady over,—a most desirable thing for her +parents. I fear there is no hope now of such a consummation." + +The man-servant entered. "If you please, sir, Miss Halcombe desires a +few words with you, if possible." + +"Certainly," said Mr. Selwyn, though not quite pleased. He liked to +keep business for business quarters, and to have his home inviolable. +"Show her into my study." + +"Stuart, do bring her here," interposed Isobel. "How odd that she +should come just when we were speaking about her! But I really am +curious to see this little paragon of yours." + +"Stay," Mr. Selwyn said to the man. "Will you have her in at once, +Isobel?" + +"To be sure,—I should like it immensely. If she wants a private +interview, you can take her to your study afterwards." + +The man vanished, and Mortimer said quietly, "You will admire her." + +"How do you know? Have you seen Miss Halcombe?" + +"Yes,—more than once." + +"But I may not think her pretty." + +"I think you will. You are not one of those women who cannot admire +another pretty woman." + +Isobel looked pleased. She liked words of appreciation from her +step-son. There was no time for more, however. Gwendoline was already +in the doorway. + +There she paused. She had on her ulster, and her little cap with the +wavy short hair showing below, as Mr. Selwyn had seen her on the shore; +but no geranium-tint was in her pale cheeks, and the large brown eyes +were opened with a startled and dazzled expression. + +"I beg your pardon," she said, drawing back. "There is some mistake. I +only wanted a few words with Mr. Selwyn alone." + +"You shall have them, Miss Halcombe," said the lawyer. "But my wife +wishes for the pleasure of your acquaintance, and she asked to make +use of this opportunity. Come in and sit down. Isobel, this is Miss +Halcombe." + +"I have heard my husband speak of you," Isobel said kindly, leading +Gwendoline to a chair, and giving Mortimer a glance expressive of +admiration. + +He came forward, with his slight limp and his courteous manner, and as +they shook hands a faint colour rose for an instant to her cheeks. The +paleness following was so marked that Mortimer said gravely, "You are +not well, I am afraid." + +"Thank you—I—" Gwendoline hesitated, as if trying to collect her +thoughts. "I am only—a little—" + +"Have you been wandering about London without food for hours?" he +suggested, with a touch of reproach. + +"I had dinner at one, only I could not eat," said Gwendoline, with +difficulty. "It does not matter, thank you." + +"My dear, you will be fainting away if you don't take something," said +Isobel, laying her plump little hand, with its diamond rings, upon +Gwendoline's slender fingers. "Pray don't do that, for I have the +greatest horror of seeing anybody faint. Here comes the coffee, just in +time. Or would you rather have a glass of wine?" + +"Oh no, coffee, please," said Gwendoline; and she was speedily served. + +A minute or two later she could look up, with a sweet, though, Isobel +thought, touchingly sad smile, to say, "Thank you very much. I didn't +quite know how much I wanted something." + +"Have you had a very busy day?" asked Isobel kindly. + +"Yes. I was sorry I could not get to Mr. Selwyn's office in time; but +indeed I could not." + +"Are you in a hurry now?" asked Isobel, noticing a furtive glance at +the clock. + +"I am afraid I ought not to wait. It is getting late, and I have so far +to go." + +"You ought not to go about like this, my dear, unprotected," said +Isobel. + +Gwendoline's lip quivered. She said only, "I must." + +"How do you get home?" + +"I shall walk part of the way, and catch an omnibus somewhere." + +"It is not right," said Isobel. + +Mr. Selwyn thought the same, but he did not say so. "We must not delay +you," he said; and he rose to lead the way into his study, followed by +Gwendoline. + +"I shall see you again some day," Isobel said cordially, pressing her +hand. + +And Mr. Selwyn was some time closeted with the young girl. Coming out, +Gwendoline was met in the hall by Mortimer. + +"Pardon me," he said. "There is a cab at the door, waiting for you. +Mrs. Selwyn and I could not be content to let you go any other way." + +Gwendoline did not know what to say, and allowed herself to be handed +in. + +Mr. Selwyn presently found his way from the study to the drawing-room. + +"I suppose I must not ask what the interview was about?" his wife said. + +"It is easily told. Her father is to lose his situation at Midsummer; +and—unless by a miracle—he and they will then be almost penniless." +Mr. Selwyn spoke in a moved tone. "That poor child! If ever I saw +heart-break in a girl's face—yet all the while so collected and +womanly. Poor little Gwendoline!" + +"But can nothing be done?" + +"I have promised to inquire elsewhere for him—after other work. The +matter does not look hopeful. Something may be found, no doubt. The +difficulty is to find any opening for a man of his age which will bring +in enough to support such a family." + +"Can't you give them some money?" + +"A fifty-pound cheque would not go far towards keeping twelve people in +comfort for a quarter of a year." + +Isobel thought of her last dressmaker's bill with a twinge of +conscience. + +"Fifty pounds!" she repeated. "It is perfectly appalling." + +The man-servant reappeared, and gave Mr. Selwyn a telegram. "Do you +know where Mr. Mortimer is?" Mr. Selwyn asked, opening it. + +"Yes, sir. Mr. Mortimer went upon the coach-box, to see the young lady +safe home. He also said he had some one to call upon in that direction." + +Mr. Selwyn's face wore a dubious expression. "Humph!" he muttered, when +the man was gone. "Rather unnecessary philanthropy." + +"Who is that from?" + +"Lady Halcot again. She desires an interview immediately. I can't +possibly go for three or four days." + +"Lady Halcot seems to think you have nothing to do but to wait upon +her," said Isobel. + + +Meanwhile Gwendoline, driving homewards alone in her cab, had time for +the indulgence of sad thoughts and weariness. She was heavy at heart, +and her interview with Mr. Selwyn had scarcely lightened the weight. +He had not spoken in a sanguine tone about finding employment for her +father, and the future looked very dark. + +At the end of the street where she lived the cab halted. Certain +road-repairs made it impossible to proceed farther. + +Gwendoline was astonished to see a cloaked figure alight and come with +limping step to the window. + +"Miss Halcombe, shall we drive to the other end of the road—I suppose +that will be open—or will you alight here?" + +"Here, if you please; it is not far," she answered; and then she said, +"Mr. Selwyn!" + +"Excuse the liberty I have taken. There is a sick person in this +neighbourhood whom I wish to see, and I thought I might venture to +utilize your coach-box." + +Gwendoline descended and paused. "A sick person—at this time of night?" + +"An old man, past eighty. He is bedridden, and suffers much from +sleeplessness, and likes late visitors." + +"But were you really going to-night? Is that your reason?" + +"No," he said, smiling. "I was not going, but I have come—and it is +true that I wished to see the old man. Also, I wished to see you safely +home." + +"The cabman?" said Gwendoline, turning. + +"I have not done with him yet. It will be all right." + +"Don't come any farther, please. Good-night," said Gwendoline. + +"I should like to see you to your door,—but I can walk behind, if you +like." + +"Oh no, no!—Nonsense!" said Gwendoline hurriedly, breaking into a +laugh, which was almost a sob. "You are very kind—only I don't think it +is right that you should have the trouble." + +Mortimer made no answer to this. They crossed the road together, and he +said quietly, after a slight break, "There are some days in which it is +difficult to see the light behind the cloud." + +"I can't see any light at all to-day," said Gwendoline sadly. + +"And yet it is there." + +"I can't see it," repeated Gwendoline. + +"I saw from your face that you were in trouble,—'walking in darkness,' +perhaps, and 'having no light.' Then, Miss Halcombe, 'let him trust in +the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God.'" + +"Could you do that if everything were being taken away from you?" asked +Gwendoline bitterly. + +Mortimer's manner changed, and his voice grew strangely humble. "I dare +not say," he answered. "If God gave me grace—yes—not otherwise. It has +not been God's will to try me thus. How easy for me in my circumstances +to look on and tell another to trust! And yet—I too have known times +of darkness and pain, and I have proved the loving faithfulness of my +God. Surely I have a right to speak without presumption. Miss Halcombe, +His fatherly care will not come to an end. 'He will not fail thee nor +forsake thee.'" + +Gwendoline lifted her face, wet with tears, as they paused at the door +of the house. "Thank you," she said tremulously. "Oh, thank you! I +think I was forgetting. Honor has so often said the same. I know it is +so, really. But it isn't easy always to feel sure. Good-bye." + +[Illustration: SHE LEAPED BOLDLY IN, STRIKING THE RIGHT SPOT.] + +She gave him her hand, and he bent his head, with a murmur which +sounded like, "God bless you." Then he was gone, and she stood dreamily +listening to the sound of his unequal steps passing into the distance. +Mr. Halcombe answered the bell. + +"Gwen, my child, you are late," he said. "We were growing anxious." + +"I could not help it, father. I could not get to Mr. Selwyn's in time, +and I have been all the way to his own home. He was very kind, and Mr. +Mortimer Selwyn called a cab, and saw me home, and would not let me +pay. I don't know whether I ought to have allowed it." + +They moved slowly into the deserted dining-room, where the boys had +been doing lessons all the evening, and where a tumbler of milk and +some bread and butter waited on the table. + +"Ruth left these for you. She had to go up-stairs to do some mending +for the children; and your mother was knocked up, so we persuaded her +to go to bed early. You must want food, Gwen." + +"No, I had something. I can't eat, father." + +She drank the milk; then put her two arms round him, as he stood beside +the mantelpiece, and rested her head on his shoulder. + +"Poor worn-out child, always toiling for others," he said sadly. "It +grieves me that the burdens of life should come upon you so early. You +are not fitted for them yet,—under twenty, my Gwennie. Ten years later +I should not mind. I wish I could shelter my darling a little longer." + +"It will all come right by and by," murmured Gwen. + +"I ought to have gone to Mr. Selwyn's, and not you, my dear." + +"Oh no, father; I am glad I went. I know Mr. Selwyn best, and he is +always kind to me. But he did not seem very—hopeful." + +"He would not wish to pledge himself to anything, of course. And he is +a busy man. I hardly see what we can expect from him." + +A cold shiver ran through Mr. Halcombe's whole frame, communicating +itself to the slight figure which rested against him. The prospect +ahead seemed to him so utterly chill and dark. He had almost no private +means. Victor received a small salary, and Gwendoline could make a few +pounds here or there by painting little pictures; but with the loss of +his situation in the bank, all other means of livelihood were swept +away. + +"Father, something will turn up. We shall be cared for," said +Gwendoline. + +"I am trying to think so, Gwen, but it is a hard trial of my faith." + +"God will not fail us," said Gwendoline, half-unconsciously echoing +Mortimer's words. + +"He has never failed me yet, but I never came before to such a strait +as this. It is utter darkness—utter destitution." + +"But God can help us. It isn't too hard for Him," whispered Gwendoline. + +Then the poor tired girl burst into tears. "Oh, father, if only I had +seen Lady Halcot—if only that had not been prevented! Ruth wouldn't +have been so easily hindered in my place. Why did I not go to her the +next day? It does seem so terrible that I may have stopped help from +coming to you and mother. I don't know how to bear the thought." + +"You acted for the best. It is of God's ordering, Gwen." + +"Father, why don't you write to Lady Halcot and ask help?" + +He shook his head. "No use. I have tried that plan before." + +"Then let me write. May I do it? I think my note of excuse was too +short. I didn't want to make a fuss, and perhaps I went too far the +other way. Honor thought so. May I write, father?" + +She grew eager over the idea, and her cheeks flushed. "I know what to +say," she went on. "It all seems coming to me, like daylight. Shall I +show you the letter, or shall I tell her that no one has seen it." + +"I think that would be best," said Mr. Halcombe slowly. "I do not wish +to prevent your making the attempt, my dear, as a satisfaction to +yourself. But nothing will come of it. I know Lady Halcot better than +you, and I have no hope whatever of any favourable result. Better say +nothing to your mother or Ruth. It will probably end in disappointment." + +"I am not so sure," said Gwendoline softly. "It might be the way God +would help us, father. I think I am right just to try. But I will not +say a word to anybody. I'll write the letter now, before I go to bed." + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL. + +THREE days passed, and an answer came from Lady Halcot, addressed to +Gwendoline, in her ladyship's bold handwriting. Gwendoline did not +know the writing, but crest and postmark told their tale. Tea and +mutton-chops were in full swing when the letter arrived, and under +cover of the boys' chatter, Gwendoline was able to peruse it almost +unnoticed. + +"DEAR GWENDOLINE HALCOMBE,—Your letter has reached me, and I have also +heard in other quarters of your late courageous conduct with respect to +a drowning child. I like bravery in a woman, and I congratulate you. + +"Your father's present position is only what was to be expected sooner +or later, under the circumstances. + +"I am not unwilling to help, but it must be in my own manner, and on my +own terms. + +"These terms are as follows: + +"I wish you, Gwendoline Halcombe, to leave your present home, and to +reside entirely with me at the Leys. You will then be under my control, +occupying the position of my adopted child; and, so long as you submit +to my will, I undertake to provide handsomely for your future. + +"At the same time, and as a corollary to this state of things, I +consent to settle the sum of £500 per annum upon your father and +mother, for the term of their natural lives, the survivor continuing to +receive the same until his or her death, after which the annuity will +revert to me or my heirs, as I shall appoint. + +"I do not wish to cut you off entirely from your family, but you must +understand that I have personally no interest in your relatives. You +may keep up a moderate correspondence with your home-circle, and once +in two years I shall permit you to go home for a month. + +"I state the matter thus clearly at the beginning, that there may be no +mistakes. This is a purely business letter. I may add, however, that if +you decide to accept this proposal, my wish will be to make your life a +happy one. I like your face, and I believe you would suit me well. + +"You may consider the matter at your leisure, and, if you will, consult +my lawyer, Mr. Selwyn. I am informing him of what I propose to do, and +I believe him to be an acquaintance of yours. + +"I do not press for a hasty decision, but I do desire you, Gwendoline +Halcombe, to understand that your decision either way is to be a +permanent decision. You do not come to the Leys on trial for a few +months, to grow tired of the plan and throw it up. If you come, you +remain. + +"Also you must please to understand that on these terms only will I +assist your parents. If you decline my offer for yourself, my offer of +aid to them falls to the ground.—I remain, yours truly,— + + "H. HALCOT." + +"Who is your letter from, Gwen?" asked Victor. "It doesn't look like +the handwriting of a young lady friend." + +Gwendoline heard the words, but did not gather their meaning. A +sensation of being suffocated came over her, and voices buzzed loudly +in her ears. She stood up panting. + +"Gwen!" said Mrs. Halcombe, while her father watched her anxiously. "My +dear, are you ill?" + +"Oh, mother, mother!" cried Gwendoline, in an agony, which yet was not +all pain. Perplexity and bewilderment had a share in her distress. + +"Gwen, don't frighten us all," said Ruth roughly. "What is the matter?" + +Gwendoline grew suddenly calm, awaking to the fact that she might +not explain hastily before the children. None but Ruth and Victor, +beside herself, knew of the impending trouble. She sat down, and spoke +quietly, "Never mind just now, Ruth. It is only—something that I must +tell mother and father presently." + +"Delightfully vague, now you have put us all on the rack of curiosity," +said Victor. + +"Would you rather come and tell me now, Gwen?" asked her father. + +Gwendoline saw that waiting was no easy matter to him. She rose and put +the letter into his hands, and, instead of returning to her seat, left +the room. + +"Gwen is altogether upset by her Riversmouth trip," said Ruth, in +a tone of some sharpness. "I don't know what has come over her. Is +anything wrong, father?" + +Mr. Halcombe made no reply, and Ruth knew better than to ask again. He +perused the letter slowly, and at length looked up to meet his wife's +eyes. + +"Nellie, you had better take this, and give it back to Gwen yourself, +after reading it," he said; and he came round the table to her side. +"Tell her there is no need for any haste as to a decision." Mr. +Halcombe spoke low, as if not intending others to hear, and as if +scarcely conscious that the children's voices had dropped into silence. +"Gwen wrote to Lady Halcot, and this is her reply. We thought it best +not to trouble you about the matter sooner." + +Ruth's face showed pique at not having been taken into confidence. +Mrs. Halcombe was not given to feeling pique at imaginary slights; but +the sight of the familiar handwriting evidently stirred her keenly. +She began to read, sitting still at the head of the table, which was +not what her husband had intended. He had wished her to leave the room +first. + +"Don't you think you had better go to Gwen, dear?" he asked. + +She answered dreamily, "Yes, directly," and read on, not slowly, as he +had done, but glancing more and more rapidly from sentence to sentence, +while a look of dismay gathered over her face. + +"Oh no, no, no!—Impossible!" she said at the end, standing up, and +fixing a startled gaze on her husband. "Quite impossible! Oh no, we +could never consent to it." + +Mr. Halcombe did not enter upon the question there and then. He put a +hand upon her arm, and only said gently, "Go and tell Gwen what you +think about it." + +"It could never never be, James. Impossible!" + +Mrs. Halcombe went hurriedly away, and Mr. Halcombe returned to his +seat. But the last half of his mutton-chop remained uneaten, and his +cup of tea stood till it was cold. + +Ruth asked at length, "Father, has anything fresh happened?" + +Mr. Halcombe said gravely, "You will know in good time, Ruth;" and then +his face was hidden in his hands. + +Ruth's voice grew somewhat querulous, but a certain awe-struck silence +remained upon all the others till the meal was over. + + +Mrs. Halcombe did not find her daughter in the drawing-room, so she +went straight up-stairs to the little bedroom overhead occupied by the +three sisters. + +"Gwen, may I come in?" she asked; and the door was immediately unlocked. + +"Gwennie, it can never never be," said Mrs. Halcombe tremblingly. "It +can never be, my child." + +That was all that either of them said at first. Gwendoline shut the +door again, and went back to the window where she had been standing. +Mrs. Halcombe followed her, and for a minute or more they remained +silently side by side, looking out into the quiet dingy street, with +the dull row of houses opposite. Quiet, dingy, dull—the surroundings +were such, undoubtedly. Yet this was Gwendoline's home. It had been +her home from infancy. Never till this hour had she known how much she +loved it. + +But presently the two faces turned as if instinctively away from +the street to meet each the other. Mrs. Halcombe was agitated and +tearful still. Gwendoline was very quiet and pale, with a certain +grave resoluteness in her liquid brown eyes. Mrs. Halcombe saw and was +alarmed. + +"Gwennie, it can never be," she said again, and she took Gwendoline's +hands between her own. "Never, my darling. How could we give you up? Oh +no, it is quite impossible! Anything rather than to lose our Gwen. It +would break my heart. I could not bear it, darling." + +"Anything, mother!" + +"I do not say it unsubmissively, Gwen. 'Anything' as a matter of +choice, I mean. If it were God's will to take you from us, I could +submit—I hope—without murmuring. He would give me power. It would +be very terrible, but it would be His will. But to send you away +ourselves—for our own personal gain—oh no, no, no—it is out of the +question!" + +Gwendoline's little hands seemed to turn to ice in Mrs. Halcombe's +grasp, yet there was about her no other sign of strong emotion. + +"Mother, suppose it is not a question of your doing at all? Suppose it +is God's will for me? Suppose He is taking me from you just as plainly +as if He did it through death? After all, mother dear, this would not +be so bad as that." + +"Oh, Gwen—hush!" + +"But I don't think I must hush. The matter has to be looked in the +face. I felt all in a whirl at the first moment, but since I came up +here I have been trying to weigh it quietly." + +"Your father told me to say that there must be no hasty decision," said +Mrs. Halcombe, in a tone of keen suffering. + +"No hasty decision either way. That is what he means. You want to say +at once that it cannot be, but I want you to look at both sides of the +question. Mother, suppose we turn from this—suppose we say 'No' to Lady +Halcot's offer, and refuse her help. What is to become of us all?" + +"God will take care of us," faltered Mrs. Halcombe. + +"Yes, in His own way. But how if this is His way? If we refuse it, +because it is not exactly according to our mind, have we any right to +expect more—any right to think He will work a miracle to support us? +Think, mother, there will be absolutely almost nothing to live upon. +Suppose father finds a clerkship of one or two hundred a year! It would +hardly put bread into our mouths—yet he is not likely to do better. It +has been hard work enough to drag along upon three hundred and eighty. +But fancy what it would be with less than half that—and we don't even +know that father would have so much as half. If no alternative had +come, I would say with you to the last, that we must trust on, and that +God would help us. I know He would, mother. But if the help comes, and +we fling it away, how can we still look up, and believe that He will +arrange for our needs?" + +"It cannot be right to give you up—it cannot be, Gwen!" Mrs. Halcombe +murmured in answer. + +"If it were a question of my being married, you would not feel so. You +would give me up quite happily then. This isn't so very different, +after all;" and Gwendoline tried to smile. "You will know that I am +well cared for, and that I have a comfortable home. And I shall have +the great joy of feeling that you are all getting along in comfort, +without the terrible pull that it has been of late. Five hundred a year +isn't wealth for a family of twelve, but it is more than we have ever +had yet; and you will be one less in number; and Victor will soon be +earning more; and father will try to get some work. Only think how well +off you will all be. Why, you will grow positively luxurious!—Only not +so luxurious as I shall be at the Leys. I Wonder if Lady Halcot will +give me a lady's maid all to myself. You see, I am to be her adopted +child, not her lady-companion, mother. I shall not know myself, in such +a grand position." + +Gwendoline's bright manner almost deceived her mother, despite her +extreme paleness. + +"Gwen, do you really wish to go? I was forgetting that part of the +matter. You would have every comfort and luxury, as you say. It may be +selfishness on my part to wish to keep you from such a life." + +Gwendoline made no answer to this, but her mother, watching steadily +the quivering white lips, knew what the silence meant. + +"Forgive me, Gwen," she whispered. "I understand now." + +"Oh, mother, don't—we must be brave!" half-sobbed Gwendoline. "It has +to be—it must be." + +"I do not feel so, Gwennie. If you wished to go, I could not wish to +keep you back. But I know Lady Halcot, and I cannot believe you would +be happy with her; and to send you there merely for our gain is out of +the question. Don't be afraid, my darling. We will live on dry bread, +and work our fingers to the bone, sooner than part with our Gwen." + +Gwendoline allowed herself to be kissed and comforted, and did not +attempt immediately to controvert her mother's words. But when her +tears were dried the look of resolution had not passed from her eyes. + + + +CHAPTER X. + +WHAT HAD TO BE. + +RUTH took a different view of the matter, as was perhaps to be expected +from her sensible and matter-of-fact nature. + +"Of course I have nothing to do with deciding," she said, when +called into consultation that same evening by her father and mother +and sister; "but if I am to give my opinion honestly, I certainly +do think that to throw aside such an opening would be the height of +absurdity—almost a sort of madness. It is not as if we should lose +Gwendoline. Mother talks about 'giving her up,' but there is no 'giving +up' in the question, that I can see. She will belong to us still, just +as much as ever, and we shall see her now and then." + +"Once in two years, Ruth," Mrs. Halcombe said mournfully. + +"Of course that is rather seldom," admitted Ruth. "But very likely +Lady Halcot will make it once a year, as soon as she sees that we do +not pester her in any way. Meantime we shall know that Gwen has every +imaginable comfort and pleasure, and Gwen will know that we are all +getting along, with enough to eat and to wear. Surely that is better +than our all being reduced to a miserable struggle for bread. Mother +talks about our working our fingers to the bone for the sake of keeping +Gwen with us. I am willing enough to do my share, but Gwen would be the +last to like to do her share." + +"Ruth!" her father said reproachfully. He had said little yet, +apparently preferring to hear others' opinions before giving his own. + +"I mean her share of needlework, father. Gwen has certainly no gift +in that direction, and she detests it with all her heart. Besides, +to think of supporting a family of twelve by needlework is absurd. +And as for keeping Gwen with us by any amount of work, it is just an +impossibility. If she does not go to Lady Halcot's, we shall both have +to go out as governesses. I had quite made up my mind to that, before +Lady Halcot's letter came. But if the offer had come to me, I would +very much rather live at the Leys than be a governess, even though I +might not be free to come home quite so often." + +Ruth's severe common sense was taking effect, and she saw this in the +expression of her mother's face. + +"Besides," she added, after a little pause, "I do think that poor old +lady must be dreadfully lonely in her big house, with nobody belonging +to her. It is her own fault, of course. Still, if mother is as fond of +Lady Halcot as we have always thought, I should think she would like +Gwen to be there particularly." + +Mrs. Halcombe received this little fling meekly. "Yes, Ruthie," she +said; "for Lady Halcot's own sake I could like nothing better. But I +must think about Gwen first. I do not know whether Gwen could be happy +there. Lady Halcot is very stern and sharp—and the matter, once done, +cannot be undone." + +"Mother, I think one may be happy anywhere, if God has put one there," +Gwendoline said softly. "And I think I should make Lady Halcot fond of +me." + +"As to happiness," quoth Ruth, "isn't it the very kind of life that +Gwen has often wished for—away from London crowds, and near sea and +country, with plenty of money and leisure, and no children?" + +Gwendoline's eyes were blinded with tears. "Oh, Ruth, you need not have +thrown that at me just now." + +"Why? I don't mean anything unkind," said Ruth, her rather obtuse +sensibilities stirred by Gwendoline's look of pain. "I am sure you have +often said you wished it." + +Mr. Halcombe drew his chair a little nearer, and leant forward gravely. + +"Ruth has had her say. Now listen to me," he said. "I have tried from +the first to take a dispassionate view of the question, praying to be +guided into a right decision. We must not be swayed by mere feelings. +The thought of parting with our Gwen is a very painful one, but, as +Ruth truly says, the parting probably must take place, one way or +another. My first impulse was like yours, Nellie, that we could not +send our child away for our own advantage. But remember two things. +First, it is not for our advantage only. Gwen is one of ten, and the +good of the other nine has to be considered. Would it be lawful to +sacrifice the prospects of those nine for our own selfish gratification +in keeping Gwen, even if we could hope to keep her ultimately? +Secondly, we have to think of Gwen herself. This is an opening which +probably means a life of ease and of comparative wealth, in place of +long years of struggling in poverty as an artist. Putting altogether +on one side other questions involved, could we rightly refuse this for +her? Gwen may shrink from leaving us; but I, her father, should shrink +yet more from keeping her, under the circumstances." + +Gwendoline broke into his words suddenly. "Father, it isn't for my own +sake that I want to go." + +"I know it, dear; but my thought has been for you at least as much +as for the others. There is yet another view of the matter, which I +believe Gwen has already considered. Nellie, we have had for days past +a heavy trouble impending—a very terrible perplexity as to our future. +We have pleaded in prayer with our God that He would show us where to +walk—would supply us with some means of livelihood. Here is, or here +seems to be, the response. A way is plainly opened. Shall we dare to +refuse it?" + +Mrs. Halcombe was weeping quietly, but she shook her head; and all knew +that the matter was decided. + +"Still," Mr. Halcombe said, after a pause, as if with a sudden sense +of reluctance, "still—if Gwennie were doubtful or unwilling, we would +hesitate—would consult others. Mr. Selwyn, for instance." + +But Gwendoline lifted her head, and looked straight at him with bright +clear eyes. + +"I am not doubtful, and I am quite willing," she said. "I have known +from the first moment that it must be—'must' be, father. How could we +decide otherwise? I don't think it is for my own sake that I wish to +go, though of course I know it will be a life of ease. I know I have +complained sometimes—at least, I suppose I have,—but indeed my choice +could never be to live away from you all—and from mother." Gwendoline's +voice grew husky. "But this is not choice. I don't see that any choice +at all is left me. Nothing short of your positive command could make +it right for me to refuse to go. How could I deliberately drag you all +down to such miserable poverty?" + +There was no more discussion about the manner of answer to be sent to +Lady Halcot, though by common consent the letter itself was deferred +till the next day. "I am not sure that it would not be wise for you to +have a few words with Mr. Selwyn before writing," Mr. Halcombe said. + +Half an hour later the "few words" became unexpectedly an immediate +possibility. A caller's knock was followed by the entrance of Mr. +Selwyn himself, in so hearty a mood of pleasure and satisfaction, that +Mr. and Mrs. Halcombe began to wake up to the fact of something good +having really happened. He had received a letter from Lady Halcot that +afternoon, stating her intentions with respect to Gwendoline. + +"I could not have wished anything better," the kindhearted lawyer +said. "My wife is delighted, and she would let me have no peace till +I came off to congratulate you all. It is rather late for a call, but +to-morrow I shall not have a spare moment. Of course there can be no +question about acceptance of the offer. It does away with all your most +pressing anxieties, and places Gwendoline at once in a position of +positive affluence." + +He quite forgot at the moment that he always called her "Miss Halcombe" +to her face. "As for the future, though Lady Halcot will not exactly +pledge herself to anything, she evidently wishes it to be understood +that Gwendoline will be well provided for." + +"'Handsomely,' she says," observed Mr. Halcombe. + +And Gwendoline gave her letter to Mr. Selwyn. He read it deliberately. + +"Ah yes—just so. Better keep that letter, Mr. Halcombe. Yes—just +so—exactly. There is merely the little condition of implicit obedience." + +"I shall always do what Lady Halcot tells me, if it is not wrong," said +Gwendoline. + +"Precisely so," repeated the lawyer, with a slightly dubious +expression. "That is all that you can say—of course. Your mother has no +doubt told you that Lady Halcot is an old lady of peculiar temperament. +It is well to avoid little differences." + +"Gwen is not argumentative," said Mr. Halcombe, with a fond look at her. + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +AMID NEW SCENES. + +"THE sore part of the matter is that it seems to be sent upon me as a +sort of judgment, Honor." + +"What can you possibly mean, Gwen?" Honora Dewhurst asked, with an +accent of astonishment. + +The two stood side by side upon a broad platform, near the train which +was soon to bear Gwendoline Halcombe to her new home. They were early, +for Mr. Halcombe was a nervous man as to journeys, and he always +insisted on a start being made about twenty minutes sooner than was +necessary. Neither he nor Victor were free to accompany Gwendoline +to the station, and Ruth had a cold, and Gwendoline had implored her +mother not to come. She could not bear the thought of "that" parting +being in public. So Honora Dewhurst undertook to see her off. + +The leave-takings were thus over, and Gwendoline had borne herself +bravely through them. Now she only looked white and quiet, with a +glitter of unshed tears in her brown eyes, which had a fixed look, as +if hardly seeing anything around. She had stood about absently, while +Honora saw to her luggage. + +"You will not care to take your seat yet," Honora said, when the little +business was done. "Shall we go into the waiting-room, or stay here?" + +And Gwendoline, instead of answering, broke out with her remark about +"the sore part of the matter." + +"What can you possibly mean, Gwen?" + +"I mean just what I say. It is like a sort of judgment upon me. I don't +know whether I have complained in words often,—I think not,—but in my +heart I have often wanted to have things different. I have been so +tired of the crowd and the noise and the worry, and sometimes I have so +longed to be quiet, and to have freedom of leisure and thought for my +painting—not to be incessantly driven along to do my utmost, and still +to feel that our heads were really never quite above water. Sometimes +out of doors I have looked at others driving past, in their comfort +and ease, and wondered over the difference between their lives and +mine. Not enviously, exactly—for I have never really wished to choose +for myself, or to have what was not God's will for me. But it has been +cloudiness and murmuring. It hasn't been a spirit of perfect content." + +"I wonder how many of us have attained to 'perfect content,' my dear +child," Honora said. + +"You have, for one. But don't you see what I mean? I 'have' murmured, +Honor. It is of no use to deny the fact. I have not loved God's will +for me. And now it seems so terribly as if He had taken me at my word, +and had given me what I craved—in displeasure. I can't talk about this +to anybody except you; but it presses on me constantly." + +[Illustration: LADY HALCOT'S KEEN BLACK EYES RAN SWIFTLY OVER +GWENDOLINE.] + +"A child can't always read his father's motives. Don't be too sure as +to the 'displeasure.'" + +"But if it were—" + +"If it were,—plead at His feet for more grace for the future, and cling +the closer to Christ. Don't echo Peter's cry of 'Depart from me.' The +more sinful we are, the more we need Him." + +"But if He should have sent this in anger, without His blessing!" + +Honora slipped an arm through her friend's, and spoke slowly—"Gwen, you +are overwrought and upset to-day, and this is temptation to unworthy +thoughts of your loving God. Suppose it were sent in displeasure for +the past,—what does it mean but that He wills to draw you through +chastening nearer to Himself? But I don't feel at all sure that it +is so. You have been overworked and tried, and trouble has pressed +heavily, and you have all prayed that help might come, and here is the +answer. Surely it is not all chastening, Gwen. You are to have a happy +home, and the joy of knowing that those dearest to you will be living a +life of comparative ease,—through your going away. Some pain comes with +the joy, of course, but isn't that what one always has to expect?" + +"Yes,—if I have not brought it on myself," murmured Gwendoline. + +"Suppose you have,—since you are bent upon that view of the +matter,—what then? If you have yielded to temptation, He will +forgive you for the past, and will strengthen you for the future. +I can't understand that sort of suspicious spirit in one of His +children,—always fancying that He is acting in displeasure. Of course +there are times when He must do so, and I don't deny it; but I do say +we don't know one-hundredth part of His pitying tenderness towards us. +David's way of looking at things was very different: 'He will not be +always chiding,'—that is the Prayer-Book version, and I love it, Gwen. +'He crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies.' 'The Lord is +gracious and full of compassion; slow to anger, and of great mercy.' +Try for more of that trusting spirit." + +Gwendoline's face changed, and two large tears fell heavily. + +"Yes—now you will feel better. It is of no use trying to persuade +yourself that pain is not pain. You cannot but feel the parting." + +"It is my mother—chiefly," said Gwendoline sorrowfully. "If Ruth were +different! Mother and I have always been one. Ruth is very good, and +she will do anything for anybody, but she does not understand. Honor, +you will go in sometimes, to cheer my mother." + +"By talking about you. Yes, certainly. I must say a word to you now +about something else. Our time is nearly up. You know I generally run +down to Riversmouth for a night or more, at least once or twice a year." + +"Oh, Honor, when you do, be sure to let me know beforehand." + +"I'll see. But one word, Gwen. Remember, you will be Lady Halcot's +adopted child, a very 'grand young person' indeed, as my good old +uncle would say; and I shall only be a poor artist, niece of a retired +tradesman." + +"Honor! As if that could make any difference in my love for you," cried +Gwendoline indignantly. + +"My dear child, I quite understand. It will make no difference in your +love. But you will not be your own mistress, and it may not be in your +power to see anything of me. For it will be your plain duty to obey +Lady Halcot in everything—short of what is wrong." + +Gwendoline's cheeks were burning. "That would be wrong—to forsake a +friend, my best and dearest friend." + +"You will not forsake me. You and I are friends for life—for more than +merely this lower life, I hope. We will love and trust one another to +the last. That is just what I want you to understand. If you never come +near me, never write to me, and pass me in the street without a smile +or bow, I shall not be pained, for I shall trust you still. I shall +know you are not acting by your own choice, but only in obedience to +Lady Halcot. Mind, darling, I mean it. Now don't!" + +For Gwendoline, brave through all the partings, burst into a passion of +tears. + +"Gwennie, don't break your heart over so small a matter. I tell you +I shall not be even pained. If ever you come and say to me with your +own lips that you have changed, and that you love me no longer, then I +shall be bitterly grieved. Short of that, I will never fail to trust +you. Remember, you owe Lady Halcot a great deal. And, apart from +gratitude, you have to keep things smooth for your mother's sake. +You may or may not be allowed to keep up a correspondence with me. I +am pretty sure you will not be allowed to call upon me at Gladiolus +Cottage. But I shall hear all about you from your mother, and that will +content me." + +"Oh, Honor! Honor!" + +"Hush, hush!" Honor said, as to a troubled child. "I am only +anticipating what will be perfectly natural on her ladyship's part. Now +you have to be good and cheery. Don't let me have to take back a tale +of tears at the last, and don't arrive at the Leys with red eyes on any +account. Come—there is the bell, and you must get in. First class!—you +'grand young person.' Good-bye, my own Gwen." + +Others were pressing into the same compartment, and Honora had to step +back. Further conversation was impossible. Gwendoline gazed and kissed +her hand to the last, and Honora walked rapidly away, drawing down her +veil to conceal something which till that moment she had resolutely +restrained. For Honora's was a lonely life. She had no near relatives, +and few friends; and Gwendoline had been her one sunbeam of earthly +delight. + +Gwendoline shed no more tears. It was by no means her usual fashion to +yield to strong feeling in public. She sat quietly in her corner, pale +and sad, looking out upon the rushing landscape, thinking much upon +the faces she had left, and speculating somewhat on the new phase of +existence which lay before her. + +"I shall need to live very near to God, if I am to keep straight at +Riversmouth," was the conclusion to which she came. "I think there must +be great danger in ease and wealth—especially for me. I shall want so +much 'keeping,' not to grow cold or careless. But mother and father and +Honor will pray for me." + + +With this thought in her mind, she reached the station nearest to +Riversmouth. Her first instinctive move, as she descended, was to +seek her luggage; but a drab-liveried footman of deferential manners +presented himself, in readiness to take all trouble off her hands. + +"Miss Halcombe?" he said inquiringly; and then, "Her ladyship is +waiting. How many boxes, if you please?" + +Gwendoline began to wake up to the change in her manner of life. She +was vaguely conscious that her single trunk, even with the addition of +a small packing-case containing her paintings, appeared to the tall +footman a most moderate amount of luggage; but he was far too well-bred +to show his thoughts, and Gwendoline had little of the shallow pride +which troubles itself unnecessarily about appearances. She was quite +aware also, and equally without distress, that her scanty wardrobe +would prove by no means in keeping with her new position. But Lady +Halcot, when sending money for her journey, had written,— + +"You need not mind about dress. I will see to that. Come just as you +are." + +And Gwendoline had obeyed this injunction literally. She only had +two dresses, and she wore the best of the two, a simple costume of +navy-blue serge, together with what was really a very neat and quite +attractive hat. + +The handsome landau, with two thoroughbred bays, stood outside the +station; and Lady Halcot sat alone in it, muffled up in furs still, +despite the mild spring weather, and seeming half-buried beneath the +piles of the ponderous scarlet-lined rug. She scanned the station-door +persistently, till a girlish figure came quietly out and stood beside +the carriage, waiting, as if for a welcome. Lady Halcot's keen black +eyes ran swiftly over Gwendoline from head to foot, and Gwendoline's +pale face flushed brightly, as she lifted her eyes with a look of +wistful anxiety. + +Those who knew her ladyship's turns of expression would have judged her +to be well satisfied with the brief inspection. But it was not Lady +Halcot's way to show her feelings. She merely said, "How do you do?" +putting out two fingers of a kid-clothed bony hand. "I hope you have +had a comfortable journey." + +The footman held open the carriage-door, and, in obedience to a slight +gesture from Lady Halcot, Gwendoline stepped in. + +"You have given orders about Miss Halcombe's luggage?" Lady Halcot said. + +"I have, my lady. It will be sent immediately." + +"That will do." + +And they were off, passing first a few streets of the little country +town, then bowling with smooth rapidity through high roads and narrow +lanes, between green hedgerows. Gwendoline leant back against the soft +cushions—with the heavy rug over her knees, and the upright drab backs +of coachman and footman rising, square and motionless, in front, and +the little old lady, with Roman nose and severe lips, seated silently +by her side. + +"What would mother feel to see me now?" she thought. "This is +very comfortable. How lazy I shall grow!" And a half-smile broke +unconsciously over her face. + +"Are you always called Gwendoline at home?" asked Lady Halcot suddenly. + +The smile faded. "No,—'Gwen' generally," was the answer. + +"You will be Gwendoline in future. I object to abbreviations." + +Gwendoline wondered what would come next. + +"Whom are you supposed to resemble among your relatives?" Lady Halcot +inquired after a pause, in the same abrupt fashion. + +"My father," Gwendoline said at once. + +"Quite a mistake. You are not in the least like him—like what he was as +a young man." + +Gwendoline was surprised, for she had never before heard the fact of +this resemblance questioned. + +"My mother always seems to think so," she said. + +"Entirely a mistake," repeated Lady Halcot; and there was another break. + +"However, it does not signify. Likeness is very often a matter of +expression, sometimes a matter of fancy. You are a very pretty girl, +Gwendoline. Of course you know this, so I shall not make you vain by +telling you so." + +The old lady looked hard at Gwendoline to see the effect of her words. +She could not understand the expression that came over those brown +eyes, an expression certainly more sorrowful than gratified. + +Gwendoline said gently, after a moment's thought, "I suppose I am, Lady +Halcot; but sometimes I wish people would not tell me so." + +"Why not?" + +"It would be better for me. I don't want to be made to think about +myself." + +For full five minutes Lady Halcot was dumb. Then the silence was broken +by the two simultaneously, a remark breaking from each at exactly the +same instant. Lady Halcot had been turning over Gwendoline's words in +her mind; and Gwendoline's gaze had been roving about the landscape. + +"Gwendoline, are you a very religious person?" + +"The sea! Oh, Lady Halcot,—the sea!" + +Lady Halcot's expression relaxed, and she put aside her own question, +following it up by another in a different tone: "You admire the sea?" + +"I love it dearly. For years I have had a dream of living near the sea. +It always looked like perfect happiness." + +Lady Halcot was certainly pleased. She said with positive cordiality, +"I hope you will be happy;" and began pointing out whatever was worth +noting in the views. + +Her question remained unanswered, and at the time Gwendoline scarcely +took in the meaning of it; yet the words afterwards haunted her a good +deal. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +GWEN'S POSSESSIONS. + +"NONE of these are fit to wear. They can be given away at once," said +Lady Halcot decisively. + +Gwendoline had passed a night in her new home, and had risen refreshed, +despite some wakeful periods of restless thought. It seemed to her +already a very long time since she had come to this place. That less +than twenty hours of her residence at the Leys had yet elapsed was +inconceivable. + +She had made acquaintance with the massive building, reared in far +back days by Lady Halcot's forefathers, passing through rooms and +ante-chambers and corridors, till mind and memory became confused. +She had gone the round of the stiff ancestral portraits in the state +dining-room, privately wondering which might be termed the ugliest; +for the Halcots were by no means a handsome race. She had stood in the +library, examining the rows of calf-bound volumes, hoping to be allowed +free access to the same. She had had a glimpse of the wide-spreading +gardens and extensive hothouses, and had paced one of the broad +terraces, in full view of the blue ocean. + +Also, Gwendoline had already won the hearts of two or three of the +servants by her gentle manner of speaking, more especially the heart +of Spurrell, the maid appointed to wait upon herself. She had made +acquaintance with the pallid and mild-mannered Miss Withers, and had +taken herself severely to task for an irresistible sense of distrust +and almost aversion towards that placid individual. Miss Withers +treated her with such marked and humble politeness! Why could not +she like Miss Withers better? Moreover, she had seen the unfortunate +Conrad, as usual spending half his day at the Leys, and as usual +in difficulties. Conrad Withers did not live in the house, but he +was expected to occupy a certain room during certain hours, and he +received liberal remuneration for a small amount of toil. Miss Withers +had set her heart on seeing him reside at the Leys, in the capacity +of confidential secretary to her ladyship; but this aim was as yet +far from being attained to. Lady Halcot endured him, and no more. +Gwendoline had exchanged a few sentences with the young man, pitying +his bashfulness, and Conrad's head was already turned. + +Breakfast had been long ended, when Gwendoline Was summoned to her own +room, there to find Lady Halcot and Spurrell, the whole of her small +wardrobe having been spread out for inspection. + +This room was one of the pleasantest parts of Gwendoline's new life, +being large, yet not too large, with a sunshiny aspect, flowers without +and within, choice engravings upon the walls, and abundant comfort in +furniture and fittings-up. Opening into the bedroom was a small and +pretty boudoir, with a davenport and easy-chair near the fireplace, +and an easel in the bow-window. Gwendoline could not but be delighted +with these surroundings, and grateful for the thoughtful care thus +evidenced. She had passed on the whole a very pleasant morning. But it +was something of a shock to her now to hear the decisive order, "All +these may be given away." + +Gwendoline said nothing, but her face protested eloquently. Lady Halcot +gave her a careless glance, and continued, "The dress and bonnet that +Miss Halcombe travelled in will do until she has others. These shoes +can be made presentable with good rosettes, but really there is nothing +else. You have the Halcot foot, I see, Gwendoline,—high-instepped. No +evening dress, is there?" + +"Mother said I ought to get one, but you told me to come exactly as I +was," said Gwendoline. + +"Quite right," said Lady Halcot. "Spurrell, you may fetch the hats and +bonnets to try on." + +Then, when the maid was gone, she repeated, "Quite right. I did not +realize that you would not possess a single evening dress, but you did +as I told you. That is simply what I expect, and what I shall expect." + +The tone was not hard, but it lacked tenderness. Lady Halcot stood +near the bed, a little shrunken figure, scarcely up to Gwendoline's +shoulder, yet with an indefinable air of dignity and command about her +small person. Gwendoline debated quickly in her mind what to say, and +ended by saying nothing. + +"That is what I expect of you," repeated Lady Halcot gravely. +"Precisely the same implicit obedience that I would expect from a child +of my own." + +"I should be very sorry to go against your will in anything," +Gwendoline said, her voice trembling slightly. "I will try to please +you, indeed." + +"Yes. I believe you are a good girl. If I had not thought so, I should +not have been so ready to adopt you." + +"A good girl," in Lady Halcot's phraseology, meant "a girl who will do +as she is bidden." Gwendoline understood it so. + +Lady Halcot turned as Spurrell re-entered, having an armful of +bonnet-boxes. "I had these sent in readiness," she said. "There is +a chip hat with an ostrich feather, which I believe will become you +very well, Gwendoline. Spurrell will find it immediately. I am not so +sure about the bonnets. You must try them on. The dressmaker will be +here in an hour to take orders. I should wish you to have two evening +dresses, one of a soft blue material, which will suit you nicely, +and another of white, trimmed with pink. The blue will be for home +evening wear, ordinarily. I had some idea of a black velvet and crimson +walking-costume, but it is becoming too warm. I have chosen a pretty +brown stuff for every-day wear, and you must have jacket and hat to +match. The second walking-dress I have not yet decided on, but I am +rather thinking of grey,—silk and other material mixed. When you are +thoroughly well set up, I shall consider about giving you an allowance, +but it is better that you should first learn something of my tastes. +That is the hat, Spurrell. Put it on. Now look at yourself in the +glass, Gwendoline. My foresight has proved true, I think. How do you +like it?" + +"It is very pretty, thank you," Gwendoline said. + +"We will decide upon that, without hesitation. I don't like these +bonnets, Spurrell. I fancied there were others." + +"I may have overlooked a box, my lady. I will go and see." + +Lady Halcot moved towards the bed. "Your little writing-case and +work-bag are very shabby, Gwendoline. I will supply you with fresh ones +immediately, and these can be sent away." + +Gwendoline was startled. "If you please, may I not keep them?" she +asked. "I have had them so long." + +"That is the very thing. They are worn-out." + +"But, Lady Halcot, my mother gave me the writing-case, and Ruth made +the bag. May I keep them, please?" + +"No," Lady Halcot said quietly; and she took both into her own hands. + +"I will put them out of sight," pleaded Gwendoline. + +Lady Halcot looked steadily at her, and repeated, "No." + +"But they are mine!" + +"That may be. And you are mine now." + +Gwendoline had a hard struggle. Not sorrow only, but passion too rose +high, for this seemed to her unnecessary and tyrannical. The cry of +"Oh, help me, help me!" went up from her heart, and help came. + +Lady Halcot, watching, saw the flush subside, and the face grow calm. + +"Well?" she said. + +"It must be as you wish," said Gwendoline, in a low voice. "One moment, +please." + +Lady Halcot yielded both into Gwendoline's outstretched hands. She +would not have done so ordinarily. Gwendoline held them lovingly, +pressed them to her lips, and then gave them back to Lady Halcot, two +bright drops having fallen on the rubbed leather of the case. + +"You are a silly child," Lady Halcot said, not in a tone of displeasure. + +She left the room, and returned almost immediately, bearing a +silk-lined work-basket and a beautiful little Russian leather +writing-case, both furnished with silver and polished steel fittings. + +"These were already waiting for you," she said. + +Gwendoline received them with mingled pain and pleasure, touched, yet +not quite comforted. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +TO AND ABOUT HONORA. + + "THE LEYS, _Thursday._ + +"MY OWN DEAR HONOR,—Just a week since I came,—and it seems like three +months at least! + +"I would not write sooner. It seemed better to wait, and not to give +you mere first impressions too hastily. Mother promised to let you +hear of my safe arrival. Lady Halcot has given me leave to write home +regularly once a week; and I suppose this is as much as I could expect +under the circumstances. Nothing has been said yet about correspondence +with friends. I do not know whether I am to expect restrictions there. + +"My new residence—I cannot quite call it 'home' yet—is very beautiful, +Honor. How you would delight in the garden and conservatories! +Sometimes the whole seems like a dream to me, and I find myself +expecting to wake up in the dear old London house, and I do not quite +know how to bear the pain of separation,—and then again it comes over +me with a rush of joy that things will be so different there now. I +had a letter from my mother this morning, and she says they feel quite +rich. Of course my father has his full income until Midsummer; and the +first quarter from Lady Halcot's settlement had just come in; and also, +dear father had heard of something for himself after Midsummer, which +will bring in enough to be a real additional help, though very far from +enough for us all if I had stayed at home. I know all this is safe with +you. + +"So I have a great deal to make me happy and thankful, have I not? + +"Lady Halcot is very good and kind. She is not loving in manner, like +my own dear mother, and of course I miss that. But she has lavished +gifts upon me,—everything that I can possibly want in the way of +clothes and knickknacks. It seems quite wrong that so much should be +spent on my single self. One of my new hats had a ticket hanging to it, +and I saw £3. 10s. marked. I felt positively guilty, remembering all +the home needs. Yet I dare not protest. + +"Sometimes I think Lady Halcot is already growing fond of me. People +show fondness so differently. She never kisses me except once coldly +night and morning, and never puts on an affectionate manner; yet she +shows constant interest in everything that I do, and overlooks me +incessantly. I have to get up exactly at half-past seven, and to be in +bed precisely at half-past ten; and I am made to read one hour, to work +another hour, to walk a third hour, as she thinks desirable; while, if +I am half an hour absent, without being sent away, she always inquires +what I have been doing. She even chooses books for me, and prescribes +the order in which I am to read them. + +"This sort of supervision seems of course a little strange, after my +London independence. The eldest of ten naturally learns to stand alone +early; and I seem now to have gone suddenly into leading-strings. But I +know it is all meant kindly; and I shall grow used to it in time. + +"I have not seen much of Riversmouth yet. Lady Halcot sends me into +the grounds for an hour every morning; but I do not go beyond them. +She does not like me to walk about alone; and I don't think she quite +understands my love for the shore, or the delight that a wander +there has for a Londoner. In the afternoon we either go out in the +pony-carriage, or else we have a state-drive in the large carriage, +paying calls, and sometimes seeing very pretty gardens and pleasant +people. She introduces me everywhere as 'my young cousin,' occasionally +adding, 'and adopted child;' so I am most kindly received. + +"I must confess I do sometimes long to jump out of our stately chariot, +and to have a good scramble up the banks and over the fields! But I try +not to give way to such feelings. Yesterday we passed a lovely bank of +wildflowers, and I could not help exclaiming. Lady Halcot asked if I +wanted some, and she actually had the carriage stopped, and made the +footman gather me a handful. It was nice to have them, only of course +not quite like getting them for myself. + +"Is it not strange that I should have so often thirsted for a life of +more freedom, with plenty of room, and plenty of air, and plenty of +money, and absence of noise and crowd, and not to feel always obliged +to toil on, whatever my mood might be; and now these have all come to +me, and yet they are not freedom! My London life was a life of greater +liberty. + +"You would not let me say, Honor dear, that God had taken me at my +word, and sent me my will in displeasure. But I do think I must be +meant to learn a lesson from all this,—a lesson against the sin of +murmuring. I have been looking out in my Bible, the last morning +or two, all about the different murmurings and complainings of the +children of Israel; and it does seem to me as if there was almost no +sin of which they were so often guilty, or which had to be more sharply +punished. One is apt to think that grumbling at little things in +every-day life is a small matter, but I am sure it is not a small sin +in God's sight. I am praying hard now for the great gift of a contented +spirit, and you must pray for it with me, Honor,—for myself, I mean. +I know now that God can see exactly what is best for me, and I do not +want to have any longer even a wish to choose for myself. He can tell +exactly the discipline that I need; and I would not, if I could, lift a +finger to keep it off. I have found out more this week of my own pride +and wilfulness than I ever found out before, and yet I have been so +happy the last two or three days, in the thought that He is training +me, and that He loves me too well to let any foolish shrinking on my +part hinder the training. And I want not even to shrink; I want to have +those things sent which will draw me nearer and nearer to Christ. + +"Forgive all this talk about self. It is only what I would say if we +were together. I cannot write so freely to anybody else. Mother would +be distressed, fancying me unhappy; but you will understand exactly +what I mean. + +"I had a real treat this morning. Lady Halcot took me in the +pony-carriage to the Phillips' cottage, to see little Arthur. He is +looking quite rosy and well, and his sister is such a nice respectable +girl, very lame, but a capital needlewoman. Lady Halcot has promised +to give her some work, and she has given me leave to pay for little +Arthur's schooling. I am to have 'such' an allowance for my clothes,—it +quite frightens me. + +"I should have liked to kiss the dear little boy as he came creeping +up close to me,—his sister saying, 'Artie's always talking about you, +miss, and how you saved his life,'—but I did not quite dare, with Lady +Halcot sitting there. She is kind to the poor on her estate, but she +never unbends in manner. + +"I must not forget to tell you that I have received a medal from the +Humane Society—partly Mr. Fosbrook's doing, I suspect. He came in +yesterday, and was very pleasant; but he said something to Lady Halcot +about my not looking strong, and directly he was gone, she desired me +to go to my room and lie down for an hour. So you see your Gwen is well +taken care of. + +"Not a word so far about Miss Withers, the companion. The truth is, +I am rather at a loss what to say. She is a sort of neutral-tinted +individual, with an air of humble politeness, and an apparent +forgetfulness of her own existence, which, if genuine, would be—perhaps +I ought to be able to say are—positively beautiful. Yet I do not like +her; I cannot tell why. She seems invaluable to Lady Halcot. Sometimes +I wish she would not be quite so invaluable. I should so like to be +useful to Lady Halcot, but not a loophole is left to me. Watch as +may for opportunities, Miss Withers invariably glides in between and +does what is needed. I have an instinct—perhaps only a fancy—that +she dislikes me, notwithstanding her cordiality. Her nephew is Lady +Halcot's secretary—about as fit for the post as our little Bob. I do +pity him. + +"Only think; I have not touched my painting all this week. The +packing-case is not even opened. An odd sort of laziness has taken +possession of me, and steady work seems impossible. I must try to get +out of this. + +"I am writing to you in my own boudoir, a lovely little room, fit for a +princess. You would not know your Gwen here! Yet I do not feel that I +myself am different. It is only the surroundings that are changed,—the +same stone in a fresh setting. Will it be so when we get to heaven, +Honor? Our very same selves, actually and consciously, only with all +the evil that is in us utterly gone, and with radiant new surroundings! +What a beautiful thought, if one follows it out!" + +A slight rustle made Gwendoline raise her eyes, and she involuntarily +stood up. Lady Halcot had entered the room unperceived. + +"You seem very much absorbed," her ladyship said. + +"I am only writing to a friend," Gwendoline answered, not without an +inward tremor. Would Lady Halcot demand to see the letter? She wished +she had not written so freely. + +"To what friend?" + +"Honora Dewhurst." + +Lady Halcot waited for more, her little crooked figure in black velvet +standing motionless in the middle of the room, and her black eyes +requesting information. + +"She was a fellow-student of mine in London,—an artist," said +Gwendoline. "We worked side by side very often. I have known her for +years, and she is my dearest friend. She is an orphan, and quite alone +in the world, and she is—oh, so good! I never knew anybody like Honor!" + +The black eyes did not stir from Gwendoline's face. Lady Halcot was +never guilty of staring; but her power of gazing steadily, without a +blink, was remarkable. + +"A young person?" she asked, with a stress on the adjective. + +"Honor is four or five years older than I am." + +"A lady in mind and manners?" + +"Oh, quite—quite!" said Gwendoline. + +"And in family?" + +"I believe her father was of a very good family. I never asked her much +about that. And her mother too—only one of her mother's sisters married +a tradesman." Gwendoline hesitated a moment, flushing brightly. "I +ought to tell you that the aunt lives in Riversmouth, with her husband. +Honor and I came down together to see them." + +Lady Halcot's face showed a mixture of gratification and +dissatisfaction. "You are thoroughly honest, I see," she said. "Then +you are acquainted with these people?" + +"With Mr. and Mrs. Widrington,—yes." + +"The acquaintance cannot be continued, in your present position." + +"Honor told me that it would be so," said Gwendoline, in a low voice. +"But may I—please may I write to Honor? She is my oldest and dearest +friend." + +The moment's pause was terrible to Gwendoline. Then the answer +came: "Yes—in moderation; if I find no cause later to rescind this +permission." + +"Thank you," was all Gwendoline could say. Her limbs shook with +agitation. + +"Had you acted towards me with less transparent openness, my decision +might have been different. As it is, you may write occasionally—once a +month or so." + +Gwendoline murmured her thanks anew. + +"I see you intend to conform to my wishes in these matters," Lady +Halcot continued, in her calmly impassive manner. "This is precisely +what I have desired, and I am extremely pleased with you, Gwendoline. +You are a very pretty girl; your manners are thoroughly ladylike; and +you have thus far shown yourself entirely submissive. Continue as you +have begun, and I shall have no fault to find with you." + +Gwendoline broke out suddenly with unpremeditated words. "I can't thank +you for all your kindness, Lady Halcot. I wish I could." + +"There is no need. Gratitude is best shown in the conduct." + +"If only I could feel that I was of any use!" half-whispered +Gwendoline. "If I could be any help or comfort to you! My mother did so +wish—" + +Lady Halcot's glance was checking. "It is a pleasure to me to have you +in the house," she said. "That should be sufficient. I do not forbid +you to speak of your mother, Gwendoline, but the less frequently you do +so the better." + +Gwendoline's cheeks were crimson, and her eyes overflowed. "If you did +but know my mother now!" she said almost passionately. "Such a mother +she has been to us! Oh, Lady Halcot, if you could but forgive—could but +feel as you once did!" + +"The two things are not synonymous," said Lady Halcot. "I have long +forgiven Eleanor Halcombe; but I certainly do not feel towards her as I +once did. That is enough on the subject. I wish you now to show me your +paintings. You have brought some specimens, I hope, as I desired you to +do." + +"The packing-case is down-stairs. It has not been opened yet," +Gwendoline said huskily. + +"We will send for it. Ring the bell." + +Gwendoline obeyed, and before long she was kneeling on the ground, +tenderly lifting out one after another of her later studies and +sketches. Memories of the life which lay behind thronged upon her +as she did so, but she would not be again overcome. Lady Halcot +stood near, with an air of keen interest, receiving each in turn +from Gwendoline's hands, placing it in a good position, examining, +criticising minor points, but as yet giving no general verdict. +Gwendoline knew that the verdict would be one of weight when it did +come. Lady Halcot was a connoisseur of no common order. + +"These are all I have brought," Gwendoline said at length. + +Lady Halcot stood gazing still. "That head is very carefully executed," +she said. "You are painstaking, I perceive. But there is not a second +study of the kind. You seem to have done most in the way of landscapes." + +"I never thought I had any gift for heads." + +Lady Halcot went over the whole set again, plainly making up her mind +as to their merits, with an air of quiet competence. + +"Stay,—I see one more in the bottom of the box. You have overlooked it. +Yes, that is the best of all,—by far the best. There is a vigour of +outline here, and a force of colouring, which I miss in the rest. It +will be worth your while to continue painting as something more than a +mere pastime. I began to have doubts on that head." + +Gwendoline hardly knew whether pleasure or pain weighed heaviest. She +said simply, "That is not mine. It is Honora Dewhurst's." + +"Indeed. She has unusual artistic power." + +"I always knew her pictures to be better than mine," said Gwendoline. + +"It is not merely a question of their being 'better.' That, in a sense, +one would expect, from her age and her longer practice. This picture +bears the stamp of genius—not merely of talent. Your sketches are very +pretty, and they do great credit to your perseverance. Painting will be +a pleasant occupation and a graceful accomplishment, in your present +sphere. But you could never have made your livelihood as an artist." + +Possibly Lady Halcot found more satisfaction in this thought than +Gwendoline did. + +"And you think Honora may?" asked Gwendoline. + +"I do not say she will ever find herself in the first rank of living +artists; time alone can decide that. But undoubtedly she has a gift +worth cultivating to the utmost of her opportunity, a gift by which she +may make her way. Are you disappointed, Gwendoline?" + +Gwendoline was looking strangely pale, but she tried to smile. "I ought +to be thankful it is Honor, and not I—" + +"Why?" + +"She needs it most—now." + +"True. But do not misunderstand me. I have no wish to discourage your +efforts. You have a marked talent for painting, and it is a talent +which ought not to be neglected. All I say is that I do not find tokens +of original genius." + +"Not in mine, but in Honor's?" + +"Yes, there is that difference," said Lady Halcot, looking rather +curiously at Gwendoline. "Would it be a pleasure to you to request Miss +Dewhurst to paint me a picture to order? I am willing to give twenty +guineas for it." + +"Oh, thank you! How kind!" + +"You may keep your letter open till to-morrow, and I will consider what +subject I should prefer. I think—" Lady Halcot paused, and then asked +again, "Are you very much disappointed?" + +"I ought not to be." + +"Why 'ought not'?" + +"It was conceited of me to expect anything else. And nobody ought to +wish for genius, where God has not given it." + +"I am not so sure about that," Lady Halcot said. "I am sorry for your +disappointment, Gwendoline; but you are not one to wish for other than +an honest opinion, even if I were capable of giving any other." + +"Oh no, indeed!" said Gwendoline. "It is just what I have wished to +have, for years past, from someone who could really know." + +"Have your paintings never been seen by a competent critic?" + +Gwendoline moved her head negatively. "I have had a great many kind +things said to me, by fellow-students and others," she said. "I never +knew how much it was all worth." + +"Miss Dewhurst's estimate ought to be worth something." + +"She is my friend," said Gwendoline simply; and Lady Halcot's face +relaxed into a smile. + +"You show some knowledge of human nature," she said. "But that biassing +of one's opinion by one's affection is to me a thing inconceivable—for +myself! My judgment would be altogether the same in the case of friend +or foe. It is a matter apart from personal feeling." + +"With you, but not with most people," Gwendoline said. + +"I believe you are right. Nearly half-past four. We will go down and +have our tea." + +"In a few minutes—if you please—" + +"Very well—you will follow me when you are ready." + +Lady Halcot disappeared, and Gwendoline went slowly into her bedroom, +feeling strangely weary, as if all life and power had died out of +her. She rejoiced for Honor, and she did not for a moment question +the justness of the sentence passed; but this only made pain the more +acute. It was the fading of many bright girlish dreams. Gwendoline +knelt beside the bed, and hid her face, a cloud of deep depression +weighing her down. She was rather given to such moods, but she had +seldom known a darker hour than this. + +Everything seemed going from her,—all the dear old life, with its +trials and hopes, its toils and aspirations. What had she now to +live for? Was it to be with her thenceforward a mere dead level of +self-satisfying, a mere easy existence; without work for others; +without high hopes for the future; without consolation, except in the +knowledge that by her presence at the Leys she was indirectly keeping +the home-circle in comfort? + +"What had she now to live for?" Simply, as before, to carry out the +will of her God in whatever sphere she might be placed. + +"Without high hopes for the future!" But what of the glorious future +beyond and above the present life, where all her highest hopes were +centred? That remained untouched. + +These thoughts came first, followed by a recollection of her late +struggles for submission. Here was a new test. If this were the will +of God, should it not be her will also? Who was Gwendoline Halcombe, +to chafe and fret because He had not seen fit to endow her with great +gifts? Whatever her gifts might be, she had but to lay them at her +Master's feet. Whatever her appointed manner of life, she had still to +honour His Name. What need for other and more selfish aims? + +How time passed Gwendoline did not know. She forgot all about Lady +Halcot and afternoon tea. Victory came to her slowly, and calmness +with it; but the battle, following upon sharp disappointment, had +been exhausting. A sense of nerveless languor seemed to enchain her +faculties, and she knelt on still, from sheer lack of energy to rise. +Kneeling thus, she fell heavily asleep. + +A hand on her shoulder broke into a dream of old days. Gwendoline +sprang up from her crouching posture with a startled exclamation of +"Mother!" + +"Gwendoline!" said Lady Halcot in astonishment. + +Gwendoline was for a moment utterly dazed and colourless. She stood +silently, gathering up her scattered recollections. + +"What made you go to sleep?" inquired Lady Halcot. + +"Was I asleep?" Gwendoline asked in reply. + +"Yes. Sit down there," said Lady Halcot, motioning her to the sofa. +"Miss Withers knocked at your door and could obtain no answer." + +"I am sorry you have had trouble," murmured Gwendoline, not yet quite +coherently. + +Lady Halcot stood looking, with her manner of unimpassioned interest. + +"I'll come down now. Please do not let me keep you," said Gwendoline +anxiously. + +"No. Stay where you are. Your tea shall be brought to you." + +Lady Halcot moved away, and Gwendoline was glad to rest her head among +the cushions. + +By the time Spurrell and a little tray appeared, she had regained her +collectedness; but, to Gwendoline's amazement, Spurrell did not appear +alone. Lady Halcot swept in before her. + +"Do not talk. Take the tea," said Lady Halcot, when Gwendoline would +have protested. "You may leave the tray, Spurrell." + +And presently, as Gwendoline set down the emptied cup, she asked, with +some abruptness, "Do you say your prayers in the middle of the day?" + +Gwendoline blushed vividly. "Sometimes," she said, in a low voice. + +"Then that is what you were doing?" + +Gwendoline's eyes had their pleading look. "I don't think I was exactly +saying any prayers," she answered gently. "I only felt as if I wanted +help." + +"Help?" repeated Lady Halcot. + +"I could not feel rightly. It was not right to be unhappy because of +what you said. I wanted to be perfectly willing to have whatever God +might will for me." + +"I see no particular objection to your manner of expressing yourself," +said Lady Halcot, after a pause, as if for consideration. "But I have +a very strong dislike to infatuation on religious subjects. I hope you +will keep clear of it." + +"I hope so," was the best answer Gwendoline could think of. + +"Your tea has done you good, but you are pale still. I should like you +to rest on your sofa for half an hour. Then you may come down." + +Gwendoline submitted unquestioningly, and at the end of the half-hour +descended to the drawing-room, white-checked and spiritless still. + +She was no better next day. The weariness which had seized upon her +that afternoon continued, and Gwendoline fought with it in vain. There +were no signs of discontent about her; but the brown eyes had grown +languid and the cheeks colourless, and interest in life seemed to have +forsaken her. She was submissive and grateful, but her face rarely +lighted up with its old flashes of brilliancy. Lady Halcot tried to +recall her to painting; and the effort was a failure. If she walked in +the garden, she had to lie down afterwards, and if she attempted to +read, she dropped asleep. + +"This cannot be allowed to go on," Lady Halcot said one day to Miss +Withers. "I must consult Mr. Fosbrook, if she does not mend soon." + +"I do not imagine there is much amiss," that lady said mildly. +"Except—possibly—a little home-sickness,—quite natural—" + +"I do not believe Miss Halcombe is home-sick," said Lady Halcot. But +she did not like the suggestion, and she did not forget it. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +AN ENCOUNTER. + +"I AM not ill, I assure you. There is nothing wrong with me. It is only +a spirit of idleness," Gwendoline said, blushing. + +"We must consider how the spirit of idleness can best be met," said +Mr. Fosbrook, in his drily polite manner, glancing from Gwendoline to +Lady Halcot. "I should not imagine idleness to be Miss Halcombe's usual +failing." + +"On the contrary, she has an energetic temperament," said Lady Halcot. +"But I do not think she is very strong just now." + +"What are Miss Halcombe's favourite occupations, may I ask?" Mr. +Fosbrook addressed the remark generally. + +"Painting—has been," Gwendoline answered, as the elder lady remained +silent. + +"And is it not now?" + +"I can't take it up yet. I am idle," repeated Gwendoline. + +"A little reaction, possibly, from too steady application in the past." + +"That did not occur to me," said Lady Halcot. + +"Don't try the painting at present. You will return to it with more +zest by and by if you give yourself a few weeks of thorough rest first. +Are you fond of riding?" + +"I have never been on horseback." + +"And how about walks? I do not mean mere garden-strolls, but brisk +country walks and seashore rambles." + +Gwendoline coloured brightly, and Lady Halcot did not look quite +pleased. "Miss Halcombe spends at least an hour in the grounds every +morning; but walking seems to fatigue her." + +"I would not think too much of that. Let her take a sharp walk, and, +if necessary, go to sleep afterwards for an hour. Perhaps a morning +on the beach would be a pleasant change sometimes. Are you devoted to +sea-anemones, Miss Halcombe?" + +"I do not know much about them. I should like—" and she paused. + +"I could lend you a little book on the subject." He had noted her +expression of pleasure. "Merely as a guide to your own researches on +the beach." + +Lady Halcot counted all this beside the mark, and she intimated with +dignity that Gwendoline's presence was no longer required. Mr. Fosbrook +stood up to shake hands, remarking, "You had better leave art alone for +a while, and take to nature instead." + +Gwendoline went away, smiling, and the doctor had a somewhat lengthy +interview with Lady Halcot. After his departure, Gwendoline was +recalled. + +"Would you like to go to the shore this morning?" + +Gwendoline's face said more than words in response. + +"Mr. Fosbrook does not think there is much wrong with you, but he +recommends sea-bathing and as much fresh air and exercise as possible. +It is unfortunate that Miss Withers is such a poor walker. You cannot, +of course, go alone into the country, but Mr. Fosbrook assures me +that you will be perfectly safe upon the beach. He thinks you will +enjoy yourself more alone than if I sent Frith as your attendant. I +am willing to try the experiment, trusting to your discretion. I need +scarcely say that you will, of course, exchange words with no one. I +have a great objection to the making of stray acquaintances." + +Gwendoline did her best to put the old lady's mind at rest, and +speedily started upon her solitary ramble, feeling like a caged bird +set free. She had not passed an hour of such enjoyment for many a day. +It was a sunny morning, and the half high tide, as it came in, was +dropping little lines of froth along the pebbles. Small green waves +washed up and broke in quick succession; while the pale blue, farther +out, reflecting the sky, was varied by snatches of grey from passing +clouds. Gwendoline paced to and fro, restlessly happy. The sea never +saddened her, as it saddens some people, but it preached her a sermon +that morning. The great ocean was so hard at work, climbing the little +belt of shore, seeming to expend much energy on a small object, and +gaining that object only to fall back beaten so soon as victory was +obtained. Yet was it thus in reality? If in that hour its appointed +work was done, its Maker's will was accomplished, could the object have +been slight, or the apparent failure real? + +"I think not," Gwendoline murmured half-aloud. "I suppose one ought +to be willing and ready for anything, advance or retreat, conquest or +defeat, no matter what, so long as God chooses it for us. I should like +to feel so about my every-day life,—just to have my whole heart set on +the simple doing of His will." + +Lady Halcot counted her experiment successful when Gwendoline returned, +fresh and hungry, from her ramble. + +"Mr. Fosbrook is right," she said. "We must follow his advice." + +And during several successive mornings the same plan was pursued. + +Gwendoline had taken with her one day a little volume of poetry, and +was busily reading, seated on a low rock, the first of that same +jutting series where had taken place her adventure with the little boy. +Voices near made her turn her head mechanically. + +Gwendoline sprang to her feet, as if from an electric shock. "Honor!" +burst from her lips, and she was in Honora Dewhurst's arms. + +The instant's impulse over, Gwendoline woke up to the realities of +her position, and she stepped back, yet not before Honora was gravely +putting her off. + +"Oh, Honor, why didn't you tell me you were coming?" + +"Why, Honor, if this isn't your pretty young friend, Miss Gwendoline +Halcombe! How do you do, my dear,—how 'do' you do? Allow me to +congratulate you heartily on the rise in your circumstances. I hope her +ladyship, Lady Halcot, is quite well." + +Gwendoline stood still in blank dismay. She remembered Lady Halcot's +prohibition,—yet what could she do? Mr. Widrington came near with +outstretched arm and beaming face; and she slowly put her little hand +into his. One shake did not satisfy Mr. Widrington. He moved her hand +up and down energetically, renewing his congratulations with an air of +paternal encouragement. + +"Quite a pleasure to see you again, Miss Halcombe,—I do assure you it +is quite a pleasure. We haven't forgotten you in our little home,—no, +no, my old wifie and I we often talk of you, and she used to think at +first you'd maybe drop in some day, and have a cup of tea with us. But +I said to her, 'No, no, wifie,' says I, 'Miss Halcombe's a grand young +woman now, in a sphere above us, and depend on it she's got other fish +to fry, so we needn't look to see her in our humble dwelling!' And sure +enough we didn't. Not as I'm offended, so don't you think it, Miss +Halcombe. But I'm not sorry for this opportunity to congratulate you +on your prospects, and I'm sure you'll accept the congratulations as +meant." + +Honora, who had been studying Gwendoline's face, spoke suddenly: "Gwen, +is this permitted?" + +Gwendoline's lips scarcely formed the monosyllable, "No." + +"Then we will say good-bye at once." + +"Oh, Honor, let me have a few words, just a few words with you," +Gwendoline said pleadingly. "I don't think she would mind that, really." + +"I understand." Honora considered for a moment, then turned to her +uncle. "Would you mind leaving us together for two or three minutes?" +she asked. "Miss Halcombe must not stay, and we have not met for so +long." + +"To be sure, my dear, to be sure; it's a true saying that three is no +company. I'll make for the cliff, and wait your leisure; and don't you +hurry yourselves on any account. Women always have plenty to say to one +another. I don't mind if I'm an hour waiting." + +"Kind old man!" Gwendoline murmured, as after another vigorous +hand-shake, he withdrew. + +"Now, Gwen, tell me what is permitted." + +"I may correspond with you, and that of course means that you are +acknowledged as my friend. I do not think Lady Halcot would mind my +meeting you, here or elsewhere." + +"I see. She would tolerate me as an artist. But you are not to meet my +uncle as an acquaintance." + +Another soft "No" was the answer. + +"It has been spoken about?" + +"I told her all at first. I thought it right. And she said—'that' must +stop." + +"The other must stop too," said Honora quietly. + +Gwendoline gave only a look. + +"I do not mean that the correspondence must stop, or the friendship, my +darling. But when I am staying with my uncle, I cannot have differences +made that would pain him. If you must pass him without notice, you must +pass me too. Your meeting him occasionally is unavoidable, especially +now you are allowed to go about more alone. I shall tell him simply +what he has to expect, and that it is by Lady Halcot's desire; and if +I put myself in the same category with himself, he will not be hurt. +Gwen, don't sob!" + +"Oh, Honor!—If I could but go home!" + +"Hush, you must not wish that. For your mother's sake, Gwennie dear, +don't wish it. Think how comfortable and easy they all are now, in +comparison with the past. And you are happy at the Leys, are you not?" + +"I suppose so," Gwendoline could hardly utter. + +"Don't cry, Gwen,—you make me feel myself so cruel. Yet surely you see +with me that I cannot act differently." + +"I don't know. I think I only see my own side of the matter," said +Gwendoline, with a tearful smile. "I do try to be brave, but sometimes +I have such a heart-thirst for you and mother. Lady Halcot is very +kind; but nobody loves me here, Honor, and nothing seems really worth +doing. Miss Withers does everything for Lady Halcot, and I never have +a chance of being useful in that direction. Lady Halcot won't hear of +my taking a class in the Sunday school; and if I propose to work for +the poor, she says I may give orders to my maid to do anything I like. +And, though I have a large allowance, she expects me to spend so much +upon myself, and overlooks the spending so closely, that I cannot give +away much. What am I to do, Honor? I know you won't say anything of all +this to mother; but I have been longing to ask somebody, and I have no +friend here. What ought I to do?" + +Honora looked very tenderly into the sweet face, with its brimming +sorrowful eyes. "It is not so very hard a question to answer, my +darling," she said. "Just do what your Master gives you to do." + +"But, Honor, He gives me nothing." + +"Then be content to do that." + +"Nothing!" + +"Certainly, if such is His will for you just now. A master is entirely +at liberty to bid his servant stand with folded hands for an hour, if +he please." + +Gwendoline looked dreamily towards the horizon. + +"Yes," she said, "of course he is. And the servant ought to obey +without grumbling." + +"Unquestionably." + +"But doesn't it seem a waste of time? So much needs to be done." + +"The seeming is not reality. God knows the need better than you or I +can do. Perhaps you are being prepared for some work, which you would +never be able to undertake without some such previous testing of your +will as this." + +"But if it lasts a long time?" + +"It will not last longer than is good for you." + +There was a brief pause, and Honora said gently, "Gwen, we must part." + +"Just five minutes more." + +Honora yielded, and the five minutes grew into ten of low-voiced +conversation. After that she would consent to no longer delay. + +Gwendoline stood like a statue, watching her friend rejoin Mr. +Widrington on the cliff, watching still until the two disappeared. +Then with a full heart, yet cheered and comforted, she made her way +homewards. + +Leisure for thought came now, and a sense of fear crept over her. What +would Lady Halcot say? Had she acted wrongly? + +One thing was clear. The whole truth would have to be told without +delay, cost what it might. Gwendoline had no manner of hesitation there. + +Reaching the Leys, she was met in the hall by Miss Withers. + +"You have come back," that lady observed, with what struck Gwendoline +as a singular expression. + +"Yes," Gwendoline said simply. "Where is Lady Halcot?" + +"Her ladyship is occupied, and desires not to be interrupted at +present." + +There was nothing remarkable in this. Gwendoline passed on silently to +her own rooms, and there indulged in so absorbing a dream of home-faces +and home-news that she lost count of time, and the luncheon-bell rang +unexpectedly. Gwendoline hastened down-stairs, regretting that she had +not made an effort to see Lady Halcot. It was too late now. + +Luncheon proved to be a silent meal that day. Lady Halcot's nose and +mouth wore their most rigid look; Conrad Withers seemed conscious and +uncomfortable; and Miss Withers bore an aspect of humble satisfaction. +Gwendoline became conscious of something unusual in the atmosphere. +Whether or no this something unusual were connected with herself, she +wisely resolved to be prompt in what she had to do. + +"You have all finished?" Lady Halcot said at length, glancing round and +rising. Other words were on her lips, but Gwendoline forestalled them. + +"May I speak to you alone, if you please?" + +"Certainly," Lady Halcot said, casting a swift glance at the girl's +pale face. + +She did not see how another face in the room fell, but led the way +to her own boudoir, and placed herself in her favourite arm-chair. +Gwendoline stood near, trembling slightly, but resolutely calm. + +"Miss Withers said you were engaged when I came in, or I would have +told you sooner. I have seen my friend, Honora Dewhurst!" + +"Where?" asked Lady Halcot. + +"On the beach. She is staying for a night or two with her uncle and +aunt, Mr. and Mrs. Widrington, and she came there with her uncle. I was +taken by surprise, and I did not know what to do. He and I shook hands." + +"That 'did not know what to do' is not quite ingenuous, Gwendoline," +said Lady Halcot coldly. "You could scarcely have forgotten my desire." + +"No, but—with Honor there—I did not know how, indeed," said Gwendoline +in distress. "I could not refuse to notice him." + +"Certainly you could. I expect you to do so in future." + +Gwendoline thought of a dozen different things to say, and said none of +them. + +"Your only excuse is that you were, as you say, taken by surprise. But +it must not happen again. The Widringtons are not to be received as +acquaintances in any sense by you. Have you told me all?" + +Gwendoline considered painfully, finding some difficulty in commanding +her thoughts, with those stern bright eyes upon her. + +"Honor asked if it was allowed, and I said 'No;' and she asked him to +leave us. I thought you would not mind my talking to Honor herself for +a few minutes." + +"Only a few minutes?" + +"I don't think it could have been more than a quarter of an hour, but I +cannot be sure. She was telling me about all of them at home, and the +time went very fast." + +"Did you talk of nothing else?" + +Gwendoline blushed vividly. "Yes; I was telling her I wished I could be +of more use to—to somebody—to people." + +"You are of use to me. That ought to be sufficient. Have you told me +all?" + +"Not quite. I am afraid I kissed Honora at the first moment more warmly +than you would have liked. But it was so sudden." + +"I do not approve of school-girlish ecstasies, especially in public. +But I have not had to complain of your manner before." + +"You shall not again, if I can help it," said Gwendoline quietly. + +"And about the Widringtons? That has to be put an end to, decisively. +Either you must not meet them, or you must make them understand your +respective positions." + +"I think I had better not go on the shore again at present." + +"Mr. Fosbrook wishes you to bathe." + +"Yes, twice a week; I can manage that safely by going early,—but I +will not sit about on the beach again. I do not want to give pain +unnecessarily." + +"Very well," Lady Halcot said, and she sat looking at Gwendoline +thoughtfully. + +"You need not stand," she remarked. "Gwendoline, it is well that you +have acted with openness. I had already heard of this interview." + +Gwendoline's astonishment was unmistakable. + +"It does not matter how,—still, I have no objection to your knowing. +Mr. Withers was on the cliff during the early part of the affair, and +on arrival here, he naturally told his aunt what he had seen. Miss +Withers felt it her duty to inform me. It is well therefore that you +have been frank. If you had kept back any particulars, my trust in you +would have suffered. The only complaint I have now to make is of your +want of presence of mind. There was plainly no deliberate intention to +disobey." + +"I hope there never will be," Gwendoline said, in a low voice, +smothering with difficulty a sharp sense of indignation at Miss +Withers' conduct. + +"It would have been singular," Lady Halcot said, in a musing tone, +unusual with her,—"singular if to-day of all days I had found cause +to think less well of you. You do not understand me, of course, and +there is no need that you should. Still, it is well that you should +see clearly the relations in which we stand to one another. By certain +alterations made in my will, and completed this very morning, you are +made heiress to the greater part of that property which lies at my own +disposal,—not the Halcot estate, but that which came to me from my +mother. Unless you give me reason to revoke this step, you will some +day be a tolerably rich woman." + +Gwendoline showed no excitement, as the old lady had expected. She +received the news in silence, and, after some serious thought, she said +simply, "I hope that if I ever am rich, I shall use my money rightly." + +"Is that all you have to say?" + +"No, I ought to thank you," said Gwendoline. "And I do, indeed I do. +Only I wish—" + +"You wish what?" + +"That it could be left to my mother instead of to me." + +"There is no need to enter upon that question," said Lady Halcot, with +less displeasure than she would have shown some weeks earlier. "Your +mother took her deliberate choice, and she must abide by it. I do not +wish this matter talked about, remember." + +"No," replied Gwendoline; "I will be very careful—and of course you +might change your mind again. Shall I tell my mother, or would you +rather not?" + +"I leave that to your discretion." + +"Did Mr. Selwyn come?" asked Gwendoline suddenly. + +"To Riversmouth—to-day? No; I wished it, but he was unable. Had he done +so, I should have remembered that he was an old acquaintance of yours. +Now you may dress for our drive." + +Gwendoline understood that no more was to be said, and she moved away, +outwardly quiet, but inwardly much stirred. As she passed along the +corridor leading to her room, Conrad Withers suddenly darted towards +her from some unknown corner, and brought himself to an abrupt pause. + +"Miss Halcombe!—Miss Halcombe! Just one word, I entreat of you! The old +lady has let the cat out of the bag! I knew she would. I see it in your +look. Can you ever forgive me?" + +Gwendoline stood still, and gravely scrutinized his perturbed face. +"How much have I to forgive?" she asked. + +"I assure you I didn't mean any harm, but I'm a most unlucky +fellow—always putting my foot in it! I saw you were awfully delighted +to get hold of the young lady, and it made me laugh to see old +Widrington sawing your hand up and down and speechifying! I just told +my aunt out of fun, and never dreamt of anything else, till I saw she +took it as a serious matter. I assure you I didn't mean any harm." + +"It was nothing worse than a little gossip on your part," said +Gwendoline. + +"Well, you see it's so tremendously dull here. If I didn't have a +little fun sometimes, I should die of the dumps, I do believe. But +you'll forgive me, won't you?" + +"There has been no harm done," said Gwendoline, with a certain quiet +dignity which Conrad thought fascinating. "But there might have been. +Another time I shall feel much obliged to you and your aunt if you will +leave me to make my own explanations. Miss Withers may be perfectly +sure that Lady Halcot will not fail to hear everything from me. Perhaps +you will kindly say this to your aunt." + +"I'll see that she understands. And I'll bite off my tongue before ever +I tell her anything about you again," said Conrad. + +"Stay," Gwendoline said, as he made a move. "When did Miss Withers tell +her story to Lady Halcot?" + +"Oh, she just kept watch outside the door till the lawyer's man—Mr. +what d'you call him?—was gone, and then she went in, and never left +Lady Halcot till the luncheon-bell rang. 'I' knew what it meant, the +moment I saw the old lady's face; and wasn't I mad with myself? Hallo! +There she comes! I must be off, or I shall catch it!" And Conrad sped +past Lady Halcot, receiving a sharp glance of questioning as he went. + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +CLOUDS. + +A YEAR had gone its round, spring yielding to summer, summer fading +into autumn, autumn giving place to winter, winter once more budding +into spring. + +Gwendoline lived still at the Leys, and had lived there through all +these months, with only one slight break of a fortnight at Malvern with +Lady Halcot. The old lady rarely cared now to leave Riversmouth. + +Sometimes Gwendoline found it difficult to believe that only one year +had passed since she was banished from her home. The time seemed +interminable to look back upon; and the busy happy London life appeared +to lie indefinitely far behind. Gwendoline wondered often how she could +ever have murmured at the surroundings of that dear life. The troubles +in it seemed so small to her now, the happiness so great. She did so +thirst to be again in an atmosphere of lovingkindness, away from all +this cold grandeur. + +Strange to say, Gwendoline had found no friends in Riversmouth. +Lady Halcot kept everybody at a distance. Mr. Fosbrook had made +one attempt to advance acquaintanceship between Gwendoline and his +sister-housekeeper; but Lady Halcot did not like Miss Fosbrook, and +she gave him so decided a snubbing that the offence could hardly be +repeated. Gwendoline stood entirely alone. + +The Halcombes had not quitted their old home, though Mr. Halcombe's +present clerkship, bringing in about £150 per annum, lay at an +inconvenient distance. The said clerkship, together with Lady Halcot's +settlement, and Victor's lately increased pay, tended to keep them +all in greater comfort. Two or three of the boys had been sent to a +boarding-school, which lessened the amount of home-work. Gwendoline +knew that her parents' cares were much lightened. Sometimes she and her +mother exchanged by post some words of sorrowful longing; but generally +each wrote cheerily for the other's sake, suppressing any mention of +troubles, and neither, perhaps, quite knew how the other pined for a +sight of her face. + +Conrad Withers no longer filled the post of secretary to Lady Halcot. +A grave and elderly man of greater competence gave her the assistance +which of late she had increasingly needed. Conrad had taken it into +his simple head to fall in love with Gwendoline. Miss Withers did not +exactly discourage him; but she counselled patience not without secret +hopes of bringing the matter to pass. Gwendoline, as Lady Halcot's +adopted child, was distasteful to her; but Gwendoline, the probable +heiress, as Conrad's "fiancée," would have been quite another thing. + +Miss Withers over-estimated, in some degree, her own influence with the +old lady; for probably nothing would ever have induced Lady Halcot to +consent to such an engagement, had Gwendoline herself become willing. +She also over-estimated Conrad's powers of self-command. The gradual +and subtle working out of plans, which suited Miss Withers, was an +impossibility to him. He endured a few weeks of delay, in deference to +her wishes; then, under a sudden impulse, he precipitated matters by +making a direct proposal. + +Gwendoline, a good deal astonished at his boldness, refused him +at once, kindly yet decisively. She passed some hours of painful +hesitation as to her next step; and then followed her usual habit of +telling Lady Halcot what had occurred. + +The delay was unfortunate. Miss Withers, feeling convinced that +Gwendoline would certainly speak, took her own measures, and made +use of the interim. By some delicate manipulation of the tale, and a +little additional colouring, she caused it to appear that the "poor +silly boy," as she called him, had been the victim of Gwendoline's +trifling—the helpless fly caught in the web of her attractions, and +flung carelessly away so soon as Gwendoline had had her amusement. + +Miss Withers' daily increasing influence over Lady Halcot, and Lady +Halcot's own detestation of anything like flirting, caused this tale +to carry weight. Gwendoline's own version of affairs, following after, +came too late to counteract the mischief. Lady Halcot was angry with +everybody,—angry with Conrad for his temerity; angry with Miss Withers +for not preventing the thing; doubly angry with Gwendoline, alike +for her delay in speaking, and for her supposed conduct towards the +unfortunate Conrad. + +Conrad was dismissed from his employ on the spot, with a quarter's +salary in advance, and a promise of recommendation to work +elsewhere,—"if he could find anything he was fit for," Lady Halcot +grimly added. + +Miss Withers could not forgive Gwendoline this banishment of her +nephew, for which poor Gwendoline was certainly not responsible. While +enduring meekly her own share of Lady Halcot's annoyance, Miss Withers +stealthily fanned into continued existence Lady Halcot's displeasure +towards Gwendoline. + +To Gwendoline the change in Lady Halcot's bearing was an utter mystery. +She was unable to imagine any reason why Conrad's foolish fancy should +be visited upon her so heavily. Lady Halcot's air of cold vexation, +persisted in week after week, was simply inexplicable. Sometimes she +fancied she caught glimpses of strong dislike to herself underlying +Miss Withers' soft civility of manner, and she wondered whether the +clue lay there; but again she would blame her own thoughts as unkind +and suspicious, and would resolve to wait patiently for a lightening of +the cloud. At times she felt strongly disposed to ask an explanation +from Lady Halcot; and the step might have been a wise one. It was, +however, impossible to tell how such a request would be received, +and Gwendoline's courage failed. Her bright free spirit was growing +positively timid under the long pressure of her present life. + +Matters had gone on thus during many weeks, when one day Gwendoline +received by post a short note from Conrad Withers. It ran as follows:— + +"DEAR MISS HALCOMBE,—I have not any right to send you a letter, of +course, but you'll forgive me this once. I want to say something to +you, and that is—Mind you beware of my aunt. She is a good woman, I +suppose, as good people go,—at least, she has been good to me and my +sisters; but she has claws beneath her velvet pads, and she hates you +from the very bottom of her heart. Mind, if she can oust you from the +Leys, she will! I think you ought to be warned, for you are too good +to suspect anybody—a different sort of goodness from the 'other!' I +didn't mean to say so much when I began. Of course this is strictly in +confidence. I depend on you not to say a word to anybody, for you'll +get me into an awful mess if you do. But you must just keep your eyes +open.—Yours ever,— + + "C. WITHERS." + +Gwendoline read and re-read the scrawl in painful bewilderment. What +should she do? How could she betray the poor fellow's well-meant effort +to warn her? Yet might she venture to keep his secret? Gwendoline was +naturally impulsive, and an impulse seized upon her now. The letter had +been brought to her room by a servant, and she did not know that it had +lain for a few minutes in the hall, with some others by the same post, +and that Miss Withers had inspected them. Conrad had endeavoured to +disguise his handwriting in the address; an abortive attempt, so far as +his aunt's eyes were concerned. + +Gwendoline, ignorant of this, and hearing a footstep approaching, +crumpled sheet and envelope together and flung them into the fire. The +blackened edges were curling still when Miss Withers entered with some +slight message from Lady Halcot; and they did not escape that lady's +notice. + +Miss Withers withdrew, leaving Gwendoline a prey to troubled thought. +The deed was done, but the question was scarcely settled thereby. For +many hours she was tossed to and fro in utter perplexity as to her +right course. Inclination would have led her, for her own sake, to +divulge the whole to Lady Halcot; but a fear of bringing trouble upon +Conrad, and a conscientious shrinking from anything like betrayal of +confidence, withheld her. + +Days passed, and nothing was said. Gwendoline did not speak, neither +did Lady Halcot. It was not Lady Halcot's fashion to ask an explanation +which she expected, as her due, to come spontaneously. Miss Withers had +not failed to inform Lady Halcot of the arrival of the letter, adding +to her information regrets as to "the poor boy's folly," and mild +surmises that some encouragement from Gwendoline must have caused the +deed. + +"I do not believe that," Lady Halcot said. "I have always found Miss +Halcombe straightforward and obedient hitherto. Your nephew is by no +means wanting in assurance, Miss Withers. I shall no doubt hear all +from Miss Halcombe before night." + +But in a little while, Lady Halcot did believe it—naturally, perhaps, +since Gwendoline said nothing. + +So the cloud upon Gwendoline grew darker, she herself unknowing why. +She could not see the weaving of the web behind the scenes, could not +tell how the gradual process of alienation was carried on, could not +guess how her most unimportant remarks were detailed to Lady Halcot, +with new meanings of which she herself had never dreamt. She was +conscious of a wall of separation growing up between herself and Lady +Halcot, but the manner of its growth was a mystery to her. That Miss +Withers had a hand in the matter she could no longer doubt. Conrad's +letter supplied her with a clue thus far. It supplied her, however, +with no means of circumventing the evil. + +Gwendoline had never passed through a trial of this description before. +Accustomed, up to the time of leaving her London home, to be petted, +beloved, and sought after, in her little circle of acquaintances; +accustomed, since coming to Riversmouth, to be admired and trusted +and made much of,—it was an experience no less new than painful to +find herself thrust out into the cold. The cessation of Lady Halcot's +interest in her concerns revealed to her how much she had valued that +interest. She was still looked after, told what to do, desired where to +go; but the manner of the superintendence exercised was sharp and cold, +as to a child in disgrace. Sometimes she wondered whether Lady Halcot +were growing tired of her, and would one day decide to send her home; +and her heart sprang at the thought. But no hint of such an intention +ever dropped from Lady Halcot's lips. + +Gwendoline drooped under this icy atmosphere like a hothouse plant +turned out into the frost. Without any definite ailment, she grew thin, +pale, and listless, and the days seemed to her to drag by interminably, +lacking life and interest. She had nothing particular to do for +anyone except herself, and the mental energy necessary for steady +self-improvement seemed of late to have died away. The weariness of +long patience was upon her. + +Yet she did not murmur, and she was patient still. Whatever results +this time of trial might have in the end remained to be seen; but its +present effect was distinctly to draw her nearer to her God. In her +lack of earthly friends, she clung the more closely to her Heavenly +Friend. The unsatisfied thirst for earthly love made her drink more +deeply of the river of Divine love. Even now, in the pain of her +loneliness, Gwendoline knew that the pain was "good for her." + +Mr. Selwyn came down to Riversmouth one spring day, by the old lady's +request, to discuss certain matters divulged by her to nobody. The +change in Gwendoline's position, and in Gwendoline herself, struck +him forcibly. He had been down several months earlier, just before +the Conrad affair, and had seen Gwendoline well and happy, seemingly +established as Lady Halcot's especial favourite. Lady Halcot had been +giving her riding-lessons, and had just presented her with a beautiful +little horse. He well remembered Gwendoline's eager pleasure and +gratitude, and her brilliant prettiness on horseback, together with +Lady Halcot's evident satisfaction and pride in her. He had counted the +whole arrangement a most happy success. + +But this sunny May day, when he found himself once more in the old +mansion of the Leys, he perceived at once a change. Gwendoline's +wistful face and subdued voice, as she met him, told their own tale. +She could hardly speak for threatening tears, and she had to turn +away lest others should see. At luncheon, he noted with regret her +constrained and even timid manner, together with Lady Halcot's cold and +repressive bearing, nor did he fail to perceive the covert dislike and +silken satisfaction of Miss Withers' air towards Gwendoline. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE CODICIL. + +"I WISH to have a codicil added to my will," said Lady Halcot. + +She spoke very decidedly, after her wont, and sat upright in her chair, +facing the lawyer, while the muscles round her mouth worked nervously. + +"I have decided not to make Gwendoline Halcombe my heiress to the full +extent that I purposed some months ago. Circumstances have occurred to +alter my determination." + +"Indeed!" Mr. Selwyn said, not without a touch of surprise. + +Lady Halcot took umbrage at it immediately. + +"I suppose I am at liberty to dispose of my property as I see fit," she +said sharply. "I am not under obligations to explain my reasons to all +the world." + +"Certainly not; certainly not," Mr. Selwyn answered, with all +politeness. + +"I intend to leave the sum of thirty thousand pounds for the building +and endowing of a small hospital in Riversmouth; and also the sum of +ten thousand pounds for the building of some almshouses. I did not +realize till lately the need for these two institutions. Miss Withers +has been drawing me some neat plans for the almshouses. She has quite a +gift that way." + +"Ha! That is it," thought the lawyer. "So 'she' is at the bottom of the +matter." + +"Also, I intend to leave the sum of four thousand pounds to Miss +Withers." + +"Miss Withers ought to be grateful," said Mr. Selwyn. + +"Miss Withers is always grateful for kindnesses. I find her +increasingly useful,—a most devoted attendant. I am not so young as I +was, and I do not know what I should do without her. It is my wish to +mark my appreciation of her services. If I could depend upon others as +entirely as I can depend upon her—" + +The old lady's tone was combative, and the unfinished sentence plainly +pointed to Gwendoline. + +The lawyer again said, "Certainly," in a soothing tone. Secretly he +thought Lady Halcot nervous and irrational, as if something had thrown +her off her balance. + +A pause followed, and he observed cautiously, "It is, of course, no +concern of mine, but perhaps I should recall to your memory, Lady +Halcot, that in a letter to Miss Halcombe you undertook to provide +handsomely for her future. There would not be much remaining to her, +after what you propose to do. Thirty thousand to the hospital, ten +thousand to the almshouses, four thousand to Miss Withers, twenty +thousand, roughly, in various bequests and legacies,—out of some +seventy thousand pounds." + +"Seventy thousand is a low estimate, if I am not mistaken. I promised +to provide handsomely for Gwendoline Halcombe, if she gave me +satisfaction," Lady Halcot said, rather too much as if speaking of a +housemaid. "But I have had reason of late to be disappointed in Miss +Halcombe. She has shown a want of ingenuousness, a want of entire +straightforwardness, with which it is impossible to be satisfied. And +within only the last week she has displayed a want of propriety in her +manner of speaking about me—not, of course, to my face, but behind my +back—which I could never have expected in her." + +"I am surprised, I confess," said Mr. Selwyn, while "Miss Withers +again" flashed through his mind. "I should not have imagined the thing +possible, knowing Miss Halcombe as I do. Is your ladyship sure that the +information is completely reliable?" + +"Completely," Lady Halcot said, with her most decided air. "However, I +am not in the habit of forgetting my promises, or of swerving without +sufficient cause from my intentions. I intend to leave Miss Halcombe +sufficiently provided for. Your suggestion was therefore superfluous." + +Mr. Selwyn felt that he had given offence, and he bowed slightly, with +an air of apology. + +"The five hundred a year, settled upon her parents for their lifetime, +will revert to Miss Halcombe after their death. This is already so +arranged; and the arrangement shall remain undisturbed. Also there will +be at my death a few thousands to become hers immediately,—some seven +or eight thousand, if I am not mistaken. This is, at least, as much as +I have ever pledged myself to do; although for a time I intended to go +much farther." + +Mr. Selwyn found the old lady as usual keenly interested in business +details. It struck him, however, that she was not so clear as she had +once been. She forgot herself repeatedly, asked the same questions over +again, and seemed not fully to grasp the sense of his answers. Still, +her resolution was plainly taken. + +The interview was a long one, leaving Mr. Selwyn barely time to catch +his train. He would have liked a few words alone with Gwendoline; but +to defer his return until a later hour was not possible; and he learnt +that Gwendoline had gone out for a drive. Was it by her own wish? Mr. +Selwyn shrewdly suspected that Gwendoline would have been at least as +pleased as himself to exchange a few remarks. + + +"The upshot of the matter is that Miss Halcombe is unhappy at the Leys." + +Mr. Selwyn had said little about his visit to Riversmouth that same +evening in the drawing-room,—much less than he was wont to say. +Isobel's questioning had proved almost fruitless; for her husband was, +of course, an adept at fencing. Mortimer Selwyn had listened silently, +drawing his own conclusions; and these conclusions took shape suddenly +in the above remark. + +"I have not said so," Mr. Selwyn cautiously answered. + +"Not in words, precisely," said Mortimer, "Is she well, father?" + +"I should say not thoroughly. She has lost her colour." + +"And her spirits?" + +"I thought her looking rather depressed. But, as I tell you, I had no +opportunity of speaking with her." + +"Is the old lady as fond of her as she was six months ago?" inquired +Isobel. + +Mr. Selwyn could have laughed. "Fondness" was not a word to apply to +Lady Halcot under any circumstances, and he said so. + +"Call it anything you like, Stuart. You know what I mean. Does Lady +Halcot care for Gwendoline Halcombe as much as ever? Or has she begun +to throw her overboard? You need not be afraid to speak. Mortimer and I +are perfectly safe." + +Thus pressed, Mr. Selwyn yielded in some measure. He said nothing +about the proposed change in the will; but he spoke with regret of +Gwendoline's altered look, and of the old lady's seeming coldness. + +"I'll tell you what it is," Isobel cried indignantly. "It is all that +little wretch of a Miss Withers, and her stupid nephew!" + +"My dear! You are not acquainted with Miss Withers." + +"Yes, I am, through you, quite as much as I am acquainted with Lady +Halcot. Do you think I don't understand the expression of your face +when you mention Miss Withers' name? I have no doubt she is a most +estimable person, in people's opinion generally; but she isn't in your +opinion, Stuart. And I haven't the least grain of doubt that she is at +the bottom of the mischief, and you haven't either." + +Mr. Selwyn would not confirm or deny the assertion. He said merely, +"You are too observant, Isobel, and you have a quick imagination. But, +remember, this must not go farther. Not a word must reach Gwendoline's +parents." + +"What! You would leave that poor girl to pine away for want of a kind +word!" + +"I hope matters are not quite so bad. We have no business to interfere; +and it would be positive cruelty to tell her parents, when nothing can +be done. Gwendoline is bound to remain at the Leys so long as Lady +Halcot desires to keep her." + +Isobel fumed, but could not explain away the truth of the assertion. + +Later in the evening, when she had retired, Mortimer took the +opportunity to say quietly, "You consider seriously that no steps can +be taken?" + +"About Gwendoline? Certainly not. She is entirely in Lady Halcot's +hands. You and I have nothing to do with the matter." + +"I am not so sure that I have not." + +"Eh!" Mr. Selwyn said doubtfully; and Mortimer's pleasant eyes met his. + +"I do not know whether I shall ever marry, father. But this I know, +that if I do, Gwendoline will be my wife." + +Mr. Selwyn made a sound of regret and disapproval. + +"I should wish you to understand so much. I have had as yet no +opportunity of endeavouring to win her." + +"And you will not have," said Mr. Selwyn. + +"I should not wait long but for your position with Lady Halcot. As it +is, I could take no step without your approval." + +"The last step which I could approve would be your going to Riversmouth +with such an aim. She is a good girl and a sweet girl, Mortimer; but +she is utterly out of your reach at present. Lady Halcot has her own +plans. I am sorry for you. Perhaps I should be right to mention to you +in confidence that Gwendoline will not be so rich as many suppose." + +"So much the better," Mortimer said quietly. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +RICH TOWARD GOD. + +ONE June Sunday there came into the parish church a new preacher, never +before seen within its precincts. A charity sermon was foretold for +that morning, and Mr. Rossiter had summoned a clerical acquaintance +from a distance. He did not very often indulge his congregation with +variety in their spiritual fare. Charity sermons and strange preachers +were contrary to the traditions of Riversmouth, and he was at all +times anxious to avoid giving needless offence to his aged patron. +Occasionally, however, he broke through this rule, and he had done so +now. + +Lady Halcot was in her pew, as she seldom failed to be, despite her +increasing infirmities. She counted it her duty to set a good example; +and, though unwell for some days past, she was there. + +Charity sermons are not, as a rule, peculiarly spirit-stirring +addresses; but this charity sermon promised early to be somewhat +exceptional in its nature. The preacher was a middle-aged man, of a +rugged and fervid aspect, yet a gentleman. He said little about the +immediate object for which help was needed, taking at once a broader +stand. Also, he kept away from the smooth and sleepy lines of much +pulpit phraseology, and spoke in terse every-day language, such as he +might have used in conversation, always to the point, nevertheless +always reverent. Such clothing of ideas in words might almost take the +place of eloquence. Mr. Rossiter, with all his earnestness, had not yet +learnt this secret of speaking straight to men's hearts in strong Saxon +English; and he began to take a lesson for himself, as he sat watching +his congregation wake up from its ordinary air of drowsy submission. + +"Twelfth chapter of St. Luke, twentieth and twenty-first verses. 'But +God said unto him, Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of +thee: then whose shall those things be which thou hast provided? So is +he that layeth up treasure for himself, and IS NOT RICH TOWARD GOD.'" + +The closing words rang solemnly through the building. The clergyman, +indulging in no circumlocutions, with the half-closed Bible clasped in +his hands, went straight to the point. + +"Which among you all, my friends, can count himself thus 'rich toward +God'? + +"You are strangers to me, and I am a stranger to you. Of your families, +your homes, your circumstances, I know nothing. But this much I know, +that not one among you is without his treasure laid up, whether for +himself or for his God. + +"Wealth is a matter which men see differently from different +standpoints. A man may be rich in his own or others' estimation with +five hundred a year. A man may be poor, at least in his own estimation, +with ten thousand a year. The exact 'how much' that each one has is +not the question. You have your wealth, more or less; you have your +possessions, great or small; you have your treasures that you have +provided; you have these things in some sort, every one of you. Now +comes the vital question. Is it only treasure for self, mere pelf of +earthly storehouses, subject to mildew, moth, and flame? One night or +day thy soul shall be required of thee. Then whose shall that poor +worthless rubbish be which thou hast so carefully provided? Not thine, +in any case. + +"'Not rich toward God.' There is the gist of the matter. You may have +your 'much goods laid up for many years.' You may have your thousands +or tens of thousands descending to you from your forefathers. You may +have your luxurious home, your high position, your care and comfort +and delicate fare, fruits of industry in generations past. Or you +may have striven and fought your own way upwards from poverty to +comparative wealth, till now you can sit with your hands before you, +and look placidly round, confident in the knowledge that want and +poverty cannot touch you. Of course that 'cannot' is far from absolute. +Riches do 'take to themselves wings' unexpectedly sometimes. You know +this, yet you feel secure. You have your possessions inherited by +descent or gained through labour of hand or brain, and you know you are +comfortably provided for, till—till— + +"My friends, till when?" + +The question came sharply, breaking into the slowly-uttered syllables +which preceded it. He paused for an instant, and the silence was +intense. Lady Halcot looked stern and pale. She thought the preacher +meant herself. Mr. Widrington, seated near, felt equally sure that he +was the person intended. + +"'This night,' the summons came thus. It may be 'this night' to any one +of us. Suppose the call came now to you, whose should those things be +which you have provided—those things which have filled your hearts and +lives hitherto? Have you treasure laid up in the heavens? + +"'Surely every man walketh in a vain show; he heapeth up riches, and +knoweth not who shall gather them.' YOU may make your plans and form +your wills, and those plans and wills may or may not be carried out +after you are gone. What if they are? You will not be here to see it. +What of yourself, stripped of all your wealth, of all your position, of +all that you have sought and valued and stored and laid up,—yourself, +standing, a cold and poverty-stricken soul, before the Eternal God? +'Not rich toward God,' in the hour of death. It is an awful thought. +'Lo, this is the man that made not God his strength, but trusted in the +abundance of his riches, and strengthened himself in his "substance."' +So in the margin. + +"I do not for a moment say that wealth is a sin. No gift of God can in +itself be evil. I say only that wealth is a danger. Poverty is a danger +too, though of a different kind. No condition of life is without its +dangers. If you hold your treasures of any kind as from God, they will +not harm you. + +"'How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of +God!' Yes, because 'they trust in the abundance of their riches'! That +is why. God made Abraham aboundingly rich, and Abraham was none the +worse in heart and spirit; for his trust was in God, not in his wealth. +So too with Job. When his riches were swept away, he could still say of +God, 'Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.' Which of you could +speak those words from the bottom of the heart, if your best treasures +were taken away? And mark,—treasure does not always mean money. There +may be treasures in the shape of mental powers, treasures in the shape +of loved friends or relatives, as well as treasures in the shape of +wealth. Those who have not one have another of these. + +"'The blessing of the Lord it maketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow with +it.' My friends, do not make it needful that He should add sorrow. Take +heed that your hearts are rich toward God with the wealth which Christ +alone can give; and neither riches nor poverty will hurt you then. + +"Remember, every one of you, treasure-holders of any kind or degree, +that which you have is not your own. It is the Lord's. You have to use +it for your God; and by and by He will demand from you a solemn account +of the use which you have made of it. Are you prepared to yield this +account? + +"The need for which I plead to-day is one among many needs. I do not +seek merely to move your pity, or to stir your feelings in the hope +of loosening your purse-strings. The principle of the matter lies far +deeper than any surface stir of pitiful feeling. God has given to each +one of us so much of the good things of this world. Are we heaping them +together for ourselves, or are we using them for God, counting them as +lent, while the true God-given riches of forgiveness and peace and joy +are in our hearts for evermore? + +"Using them for God means more than an occasional shilling put into the +plate at church, or an occasional penny tossed to a beggar. It means +more than plans of kindness and schemes of generosity. It means doing +what you do for Christ's sake. It means doing what you do as unto the +Lord Himself. + +"There is a deadly sin spoken of in the Bible. Listen: + +"'The wicked shall be turned into hell . . . and all the nations that +FORGET GOD.' + +"And again,—'The wicked through the pride of his countenance will not +seek after God. God is not in all his thoughts.' Only forgetfulness +again! How much has God been in our thoughts this past week? Put the +question to yourselves. 'Consider this, ye that FORGET GOD.' + +"Only forgetfulness! A small matter in the eyes of many. It will not +seem a small matter in that hour when you stand face to face with +the Eternal God, whom you through long years of life have habitually +forgotten. + +"Forgotten Him in your work! Forgotten Him in your duties! Forgotten +Him in your pleasures! Forgotten Him in your money-earning! Forgotten +Him in your money-spending! + +"And yet—He is your Father. He has not forgotten your needs. The Lord +Jesus did not forget to die for you. The Holy Spirit does not forget to +plead with you." + + +So far the sermon proceeded, the effect of the preacher's brief, clear +utterances being enhanced by his impressive earnestness and by a mellow +voice of strong feeling. + +Suddenly, and without the slightest warning, as regarded the greater +number present, there was a heavy "thud." Lady Halcot lay senseless +upon the floor of the large square pew. + +Two or three friends near said afterwards that they had observed a +livid whiteness creeping over the old lady's face, but had not thought +much of it. Miss Withers, the only sleepy person in the congregation, +had noticed nothing; and Gwendoline, absorbed in attention to the +preacher, had been equally oblivious. The collapse of Lady Halcot's +powers was so instantaneous that neither could be in time to break the +force of her fall, but Gwendoline was the first to lift her head. + +A general stir took place, and the thread of close attention was +broken. The clergyman came to a sudden pause, and people around craned +their necks to observe, with eager whispers, two or three young ladies +becoming slightly hysterical. Help was at hand, and before many seconds +had elapsed, the little bent figure was carried into the vestry. There, +with the help of fresh air and remedies, Lady Halcot slowly revived. + +"It must have been the heat. I never fainted in my life before," she +said uneasily. "So very strange! If I had guessed that anything of the +kind was coming on, I should have walked out. It must have made quite +a disturbance. Thanks; I do not require the salts, Miss Withers. I am +quite well." + +But when she stood up to walk to her carriage, Lady Halcot fell back +again in semi-unconsciousness. + +The disturbance in church had not been slight, and many found it +difficult to give further attention to the sermon. With some, however, +the event had rather deepened the effect of the preacher's words, and +among these was Mr. Widrington. For so chatty a man, he was strangely +silent during the remainder of the day; and a clue to his silence came +at night. + +"Wife," he said tremblingly, "I can't get out of my head the things I +heard this morning. It's an awful thought that all these years I have +been forgetting God,—forgetting Him in my getting, and my spending too. +I didn't mean to, but I have. It was awful to see the old lady go down +like that, and to think it was, maybe, the call come all of a sudden. I +hope it isn't, but there's no knowing; and I hope, if it is, she's got +her treasure in heaven all right. But I'm sure I haven't. It's time we +should see to it, wifie." + +The preacher came and went, and his first sermon in Riversmouth was +also his last there. But the words flung broadcast upon the soil that +day sprang up and grew and bore fruit; not only in the heart of little +old Mr. Widrington. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +LONELINESS. + +SIX weeks had passed since Lady Halcot was first taken ill in church, +and she was ill yet. She had not left her room, had, indeed, scarcely +quitted her bed, since that day. Mr. Fosbrook found it difficult to +say in precise terms what was the matter with her. She seemed to have +no definite ailment, beyond a collapse of all her powers. Suddenly, +and almost without previous warning, she had sunk into the ways of a +confirmed invalid. + +Miss Withers from the first moment stepped quietly into the position +of head nurse and of general manager in all that appertained to Lady +Halcot. Gwendoline found herself gradually excluded from the sick-room. +A brief visit once or twice a day was permitted for a while, Miss +Withers invariably remaining present. But as time went on, difficulties +were raised; and slowly—almost imperceptibly to herself—it came about +that her entrance was forbidden. + +"I do not think it desirable to-day," in Miss Withers' placid tones, +grew into, "I could not possibly allow it, Miss Halcombe." + +Gwendoline had no means of knowing whether this was by Lady Halcot's +desire. Miss Withers did everything in Lady Halcot's name, spoke much +of the necessity of keeping her quiet, and promised to call Gwendoline +at once, if at any time the old lady seemed to require her. Gwendoline +had no power to separate the true from the false in their utterances. +Had she felt the slightest security that her presence was desired by +Lady Halcot, she would have taken a firm stand immediately. But this +security she could not feel. Lady Halcot's long-continued coldness, and +the absence now of any kind message from the sick-room, made her shrink +from intruding where, as it seemed, she was not wanted. + +Life dragged on wearily with her through those weeks. She had no +friends, no companions. Miss Withers was with Lady Halcot, morning, +noon, and night; scarcely quitting the room for even a hurried meal now +and then, but "snatching food," as she called it, when she could, and +never walking out at all. Yet she showed no signs of being over-taxed, +but always appeared placidly neat and satisfied. Gwendoline wondered at +her. + +What Mr. Fosbrook thought of the old lady Gwendoline did not know. +She would have spoken to him, but no opportunity presented itself. So +sure as Mr. Fosbrook's carriage reached the front door, the ubiquitous +Miss Withers was gliding through the hall to welcome him; and when he +left, she accompanied him out upon the steps, talking always in muffled +and confidential tones. If Gwendoline came up and asked a question +for herself, the answer was snatched from Mr. Fosbrook's lips by Miss +Withers. Her after report to Gwendoline was almost invariably the same, +"Mr. Fosbrook considered Lady Halcot very feeble still, and desired +that she should be kept perfectly quiet." + +It was a strange life for Gwendoline, brought up as she had been in +a crowd, and now entirely cut off from all whom she loved. Letters +were her great comfort, and correspondence was no longer subject to +supervision; but Gwendoline was strictly honourable, and she would in +no case exceed the bounds marked out for her by Lady Halcot. A feeling +of restlessness made it very difficult to settle to any course of +study; and rides and drives were melancholy, with no particular object +in them, no companion with whom to exchange ideas, nobody to see her +off, nobody to welcome her home. Gwendoline had not imagined until now +how much of real affection she had learnt to bestow on Lady Halcot, or +how keenly the little old lady could be missed out of her daily life. + +In despair of other interests, she at length took to her painting +again, and spent hours over it daily, struggling with lassitude and +disinclination, and trying to revive a shadow of her former delight in +the occupation. Some of the old pleasure crept back slowly; but she +missed the companionship of her fellow-students, their criticisms, +opinions, and judgments, together with the warm interest of her +home-circle in all that she undertook. To have painted a picture for +her mother would have brought real enjoyment, but Gwendoline knew well +that her work, when done, would be Lady Halcot's, not Mrs. Halcombe's. + +Sometimes the poor girl flung her pencils down, and sobbed aloud in her +heartache, for "Mother, mother!" + +Occasionally Miss Withers would drop in, and scan Gwendoline's +unfinished canvas, with the monotonous verdict of "So very pretty." + +Gwendoline had some difficulty on such occasions in controlling herself +to receive politely the unwelcome commendation. + +She was alone in Lady Halcot's boudoir early one afternoon, going +through an hour of self-prescribed reading, when, to her surprise, +Mr. Fosbrook walked in. It was half an hour before his usual time +of calling, and Gwendoline said, as she rose, "I did not hear the +carriage." + +"No; I came on my own feet for once," Mr. Fosbrook answered, not +thinking it necessary to add that he had done so for the express +purpose of securing a private interview with her. "Finding the door on +the latch, I did not ring. Have you been out to-day, Miss Halcombe?" + +"No; I did not feel inclined." + +"Don't give way to that feeling." + +Gwendoline smiled assent, cheered quickly by the interest shown in her +well-being. She had had little of such kindness for many weeks. + +"You are not looking very well, I think. People cannot get on without +fresh air." + +"No; I will remember," she said, not wishing to waste valuable time. +"Mr. Fosbrook, what do you really think of Lady Halcot? She has been so +long ill now. Will she soon be well?" + +Mr. Fosbrook looked at her in silence for two seconds. Then he said +gravely, "Miss Withers undertook to tell you." + +"She tells me nothing," said Gwendoline hastily. "Except that Lady +Halcot is weak, and must be kept quiet." + +"That is true,—so far. It is not all. There has been a marked failure +the last three days." + +"A failure of strength?" + +"Of vital power." + +"I have heard nothing," Gwendoline said, in a trembling voice,—"nothing +whatever. Is this right? Why am I to be kept away from Lady Halcot, and +to have the truth hidden from me? I am not a child." + +"Then it is not by your own wish that you are absent?" + +"My own wish! Staying out of the room! No, indeed! Could you think so?" +asked Gwendoline reproachfully. + +"Miss Withers seemed to think that you were of a nervous disposition, +as regarded illness." + +Gwendoline exclaimed in amazement. "I am the eldest of a large family," +she said. "I have been used to nursing all my life." + +"I confess it did not sound very much like the young lady whom I saw +leaping from the rock," he said, with a half-smile. "But characters are +often inconsistent in their developments. Then you would not really +object to seeing Lady Halcot?" + +"If I thought Lady Halcot wished to see me, nothing should keep me out +of the room," said Gwendoline indignantly. "Afraid of illness indeed!" + +"It is possible that Lady Halcot wishes it more than she allows to +appear. She is always reserved." + +"Has she ever said anything,—ever asked about me?" + +"No," Mr. Fosbrook answered. "Your name has not been mentioned by +her in my hearing. When I have alluded to you, she has immediately +dropped the subject. But this very silence strikes me as unnatural, and +inclines me to believe that there is strong feeling of some kind below." + +Gwendoline stood with a look of painful perplexity on her face. "If I +only knew what to do!" she said. "If I could only see my way clearly! +Miss Withers,—'she,' of course, has no right to forbid me the room. If +I knew myself to be wanted there, I would go at once. Miss Withers has +no real power in the matter. There is only my doubt about Lady Halcot's +wishes. Did you mean just now that you think Lady Halcot's state at all +serious?—Anything to be anxious about?" + +"It would be no kindness to hide the truth from you," said Mr. Fosbrook +seriously. "She will never come down-stairs again." + +"You don't mean to say that she is dying?" + +Gwendoline's startled face was turned upon him in blank distress. But +his answer left her in no doubt. + +"Lady Halcot is dying." + +"Not actually dying I—surely not so bad as that! How long can she live?" + +"It may be weeks. It may be only days. I cannot speak with certainty. A +temporary rally is not even now impossible, but I hardly expect it." + +"And she,—does she know it?" + +"I cannot tell. She does not appear to be conscious of danger; but +certainly I have an impression that something is weighing upon her +mind. It may be that, or it may be your absence." + +A light seemed to flash upon Gwendoline. "I see,—I see!" she said. "You +think that perhaps Lady Halcot is fretting about me,—perhaps believing, +as you did, that I have been staying away out of choice—selfishly." + +"I did not believe it, Miss Halcombe. But mistakes are possible, +especially in a sick-room, where the mind is not very strong." + +"And you advise me to go to her?" + +Mr. Fosbrook's answer was unhesitating. "I do. The experiment is at +least worth trying." + +The boudoir door opened slowly, and Miss Withers entered, a rather +disagreeable expression underlying her smile. "Mr. Fosbrook already!" +she said, with an accent of surprise. "How do you do? You are early +to-day." + +"Rather," Mr. Fosbrook answered composedly. + +He was, of course, entirely indifferent to Miss Withers' displeasure, +and he shook hands in his usual manner, content to have achieved +that which might prevent after unhappiness or self-reproaches on the +part of Gwendoline. He had suspected the fact of certain not quite +straightforward dealings. Having done his part, he left Gwendoline to +carry on the matter. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +TO A POINT. + +GWENDOLINE'S resolution was quickly taken. A plan of action flashed +into her mind, and she unhesitatingly resolved to carry it out. With +all her capabilities of passive endurance, and her real sweetness of +temper, there was much of underlying force and spirit, and she was now +thoroughly aroused. No thought of self came into the question. Her +solicitude was entirely for Lady Halcot. + +"Will you please to come up-stairs, Mr. Fosbrook?" Miss Withers said, +with less than her usual assurance. + +Gwendoline advanced a step or two, colourless still, but +self-possessed. "Miss Withers, I have been asking Mr. Fosbrook his real +opinion of Lady Halcot; and I am very much surprised to find matters +far worse than you have given me any reason to suppose." + +Miss Withers murmured something about "not liking to distress Miss +Halcombe." + +"Mr. Fosbrook has also given me full leave to go in and out of Lady +Halcot's room," Gwendoline continued. + +"Lady Halcot's wishes—" came in answer to this. + +"I will find out for myself what Lady Halcot's wishes really are," said +Gwendoline. "Mr. Fosbrook, would you please to come up-stairs with me? +If you like to make a third, Miss Withers, pray come also." + +Miss Withers seemingly did like to make a third, for she followed Mr. +Fosbrook, while Gwendoline preceded him. The little fair-haired woman's +control of feature was curiously displayed at this juncture. Neither +fear nor annoyance showed in her face. She rather appeared to be +occupied with cogitations as to her next step. On the first landing a +quick and unexpected movement placed her beside Gwendoline, and at the +same instant she was saying, in a subdued voice, "I should wish you to +understand, Miss Halcombe, that I have acted throughout entirely with +Lady Halcot's consent. The responsibility does not rest with me." + +Gwendoline was silent, not knowing what answer to make; and the shadow +of an incredulous smile was on Mr. Fosbrook's lips. Miss Withers looked +steadily from one to the other. + +"I assure you it is so. How could it be otherwise? I have acted simply +by Lady Halcot's desire,—simply as her mouthpiece." + +"I do not think a mouthpiece is required. Lady Halcot will tell me her +own wishes," Gwendoline answered coldly. + +The trio moved on without more words, till Lady Halcot's bedroom +door was reached. Gwendoline there paused, her hand upon it, that +Miss Withers might not push in first. "I do not wish to startle Lady +Halcot," she said, in a low tone. "No, not you, Miss Withers. Mr. +Fosbrook—" + +Miss Withers obeyed, drawing back, strange to say, with a still +unruffled mien. + +The doctor entered alone, greeting his patient cheerfully. "How are you +to-day, Lady Halcot? Not very bright, I am afraid. No; I thought so." + +"Imprisonment never suits me," Lady Halcot answered, in a thin faint +voice. She was on the sofa, built up with cushions and shawls, not +dressed, but warmly muffled and covered, her shrunken wan face looking +out from manifold wraps. Excessive restlessness had driven her for an +hour from her bed, but she had to be lifted like an infant, and summer +heat brought no warmth to her chilled frame. + +"The days seem long to you up here?" Mr. Fosbrook said +half-questioningly. + +"Yes,—long and monotonous. I have been an active woman, and time hangs +heavily, with no occupations. I have no right to complain, however." + +"A little change might do you no harm." + +"A change down-stairs? I have no strength." + +"No, I could not recommend that. But how would you like to see another +face, by way of variety? Miss Halcombe is anxious to pay you a visit." + +"Gwendoline!" and there was a pause. "Yes,—if she cares to come." + +"She is just outside. Miss Halcombe!" the doctor said; but almost +before the words crossed his lips Gwendoline stood by the bedside. + +An instant's hesitation on her part, and the old lady would have +withdrawn into a shell of icy reserve. Gwendoline did not hesitate. She +knelt down beside the couch, and pressed her lips to one of the small +withered hands. + +"Gwendoline, my dear!" + +Lady Halcot's voice shook painfully. + +"You will let me be with you now, will you not?" asked Gwendoline +beseechingly. "Mr. Fosbrook has given me leave. I have been so longing +to see you all these weeks." + +"She told me—you—" + +Lady Halcot broke off, and her apprehensive glance round the room was +not lost upon her companions. Miss Withers had become invisible. Mr. +Fosbrook went to the door, and closed it, not quite unconscious of a +figure moving away on the other side. + +"There has been some misunderstanding," he said, as he came back. "Miss +Halcombe has not remained absent by her own will." + +"I have wished so much to come. I would have given anything to be with +you," Gwendoline repeated earnestly. + +Lady Halcot looked at her and at the doctor by turns. "Ah, yes,—a +misunderstanding!" she murmured at length. "Only a misunderstanding. +Such things will happen. But you will not leave me again, my dear. I +have wanted you so much. And I thought you were too busy to care to +come,—riding out, and painting, and writing letters home. A little +misunderstanding." + +Gwendoline had it on her lips to say, "She told me you did not want +me." But something seemed to restrain the utterance. The old lady +looked so broken and shadowy, that Gwendoline shrank from putting her +to pain. She only said, "You will know me better now." + +"Yes, my dear,—yes. I have misjudged you," said Lady Halcot sadly. +Then, as the doctor felt her pulse,—"I am not well to-day, Mr. +Fosbrook. I am very weak." + +"Yes, very," he answered. "Is there anything you could fancy in the way +of food,—anything fresh?" + +"Ah, if only one did not need to eat. I have such a distaste for +everything. But perhaps—perhaps, with Gwendoline to sit by me—" + +"I am going to be your nurse now," said Gwendoline. + +"I shall like that, my dear. And I think—perhaps—a little nearer, +Gwendoline; I don't want to be overheard. Is the door shut? Thanks. I +think, my dear, if you could manage to arrange it, when you are not +here yourself,—if either Spurrell or Frith could take your place,—so as +not to leave me quite alone with Miss Withers!" The tones were eager +as well as tremulous. "I have no complaints to make. Miss Withers is +an excellent nurse,—most painstaking. But sometimes—it tries me a +little—if you could manage so—" + +"You shall never be without Spurrell or Frith or myself in the room for +a single instant," said Gwendoline firmly. + +"Don't tell Miss Withers that I have expressed the wish. She has been +most attentive, and I should be sorry to hurt her feelings. Indeed, I +am quite sure she means everything for the best. But if—if you 'could' +arrange it—" + +The mastery which Miss Withers had evidently obtained over the old lady +in her weakness was strangely and pitifully shown. Gwendoline could +hardly control her indignation; but for Lady Halcot's sake she only +replied quietly, "I will, indeed. I promise to take care. You shall not +be alone with Miss Withers again." + +"Then all will be as I could wish. I have no desire for other changes. +She means well, and she is very capable. Doctor, I think I will +ask you to come again this evening. The sinking is worst then, and +perhaps you could do something to relieve it. I want a few words with +Gwendoline now, before I am too tired. And perhaps, if you should see +Miss Withers,—perhaps you could keep her in conversation down-stairs +for a few minutes? You understand I do not wish to blame her,—I am not +asking you to find fault with her,—but simply if you could detain her a +little—" + +The doctor said "Certainly," and took leave at once, fully +comprehending. + +Gwendoline went outside the door with him, closing it after her, and +said, under breath, "Would it not be possible to forbid Miss Withers +the room?" + +"I hardly think so," he answered, equally low. "Lady Halcot could not +stand the agitation. Do as she has asked you; and meantime I will give +Miss Withers a word of warning. It may be only a question of a few +days." + +Gwendoline went back to her old position, holding again the withered +hand between her own, and wondering badly what might be the import of +those words to the old lady herself. Only a few more days, perhaps! +What lay beyond? + +"That is what I wished," the sunken voice said. "Is the door shut, +Gwendoline? No, not locked. I do not care to offend Miss Withers, and +perhaps she might not like to come and find it locked. But Mr. Fosbrook +will detain her for a few minutes. I have something to say, and I am +anxious not to be overheard. My memory seems so weak now; but I think I +can recall—presently—what it was." + +"It will come back to you by and by. Don't distress yourself with +trying to remember now," Gwendoline said tenderly, as she might have +spoken to a sick child. This poor little wasted feeble creature seemed +utterly unlike the dignified Lady Halcot. "Another time will do as +well." + +"No, my dear; I cannot tell. The doctor does not say what is the matter +with me, and I suppose it is only old age and tiredness; but I shall +never be well again. And sometimes everything seems going from me." + +She looked steadily into vacancy with a strained expression, as if +seeking after wandering ideas. + +"Something that you did! What was it, Gwendoline? Did you give me +reason to be displeased with you? Or was it—was it your mother? I have +so much confusion of memory, I cannot disentangle things." + +"Mother displeased you long ago, Lady Halcot; but you have forgiven +her now, I am quite sure," said Gwendoline. "And you were displeased +with me, but I could not tell why. I think it may have been another +misunderstanding,—through Miss Withers." + +"Yes, yes; I dare say it was that," said Lady Halcot feebly. +"Something that she knew, which you did not tell me. If you had told +me, I should not have minded. But we need not go into that now. A +misunderstanding!—Yes, another misunderstanding! You are a good girl, +Gwendoline. I see it now. I wish—I wish I had not been persuaded to +alter my will." + +Gwendoline heard this silently. + +"I do not think I can alter it again; I am so tired, so very weak and +weary," continued Lady Halcot "And I am not quite sure that it would +be right. The money left for a hospital and almshouses—once given—I do +not think I could rightly take that back now. My conscience would not +approve." + +"No, indeed; I am sure you could not," said Gwendoline. + +"You feel so too? That is a relief to my mind," said Lady Halcot, as if +surprised. "I thought perhaps you would be angry. Miss Withers said so +sometimes, and wished you not to know. But you do not love riches as +some do." + +"I think I would rather not have a very great deal of money," said +Gwendoline. "Wealth brings danger with it." + +"Ah, that sermon!" and a shiver passed over Lady Halcot. "Yes, I +remember. It comes back to me often, especially at night. 'Not rich +toward God.' I have so often thought since of those words. But, my +dear, you will have something, only I cannot recall how much. And I +have left four thousand pounds to Miss Withers. It is a large sum. I +think she has wanted me lately to make it eight thousand, but I could +not feel that to be right. Still, she has worked hard, and she means +so well always,—and there are her nieces and nephews too. I think now +that I have not acted quite wisely. I ought to have remembered how much +stronger your claim upon me was—of the two. But you will not grudge it +to her, Gwendoline. I cannot make any further alterations." + +"It will be all quite right," said Gwendoline softly. "Don't trouble +yourself any more about money. That matters so little." + +"I have nearly done with it. But there is the responsibility," said +Lady Halcot. Then more faintly she added, "Now I must rest." + +Sleep crept over her, and she lay unconscious, with her head supported +on Gwendoline's arm. Miss Withers presently came in, wearing precisely +her usual expression. Gwendoline could not have told from her face +whether or no she realized the changed aspect of affairs. Presently, +however, a movement of Lady Halcot set her free, and Miss Withers then +made signs of a desire to speak. The two moved noiselessly into the +adjoining room. + +"I merely wished, Miss Halcombe, to apologize for my unfortunate +mistake. It must seem strange now, but I do assure you Lady Halcot has +never expressed the slightest desire for your presence." + +"It does seem strange," Gwendoline answered. + +"If I had understood,—if I could possibly have guessed; but, indeed, +she has, on the contrary, appeared to desire nothing so much as quiet. +I have felt it my duty to secure it for her. And Mr. Fosbrook said +so much about the danger of excitement. If I have misjudged, it has +been misjudgment only. You will, I am sure, give me credit for right +motives." + +Gwendoline thought it as well not to enter upon a discussion +about motives. "Lady Halcot wishes to look upon the whole as a +misunderstanding," she said; "and I am willing to accept the same view. +I need say no more, except that for your own sake I am very sorry for +the way in which you have acted." + +Miss Withers showed no resentment. "I can quite believe that my +conduct may appear singular to you," she said meekly. "You cannot, of +course, see the matter as a whole, or know quite all that passed. Lady +Halcot is in a feeble state of mind, and says one hour what she unsays +the next. On reflection I believe you will regard the matter more +leniently." + +Gwendoline was silent, fearing to speak too strongly. She found patient +listening by no means easy. + +"Of course, if it were Lady Halcot's wish that I should not attend upon +her any more," Miss Withers suggested, with a mournful intonation,—"if +it were her wish, even, that I should leave Riversmouth—" and the +little woman's handkerchief went up to her eyes. + +"No," Gwendoline answered. "Lady Halcot takes the most indulgent view +possible of your conduct, and I am trying to do the same. Mr. Fosbrook +forbids all agitation, and there must be no explanations. We can make +use of you in the sick-room still; only you must please to understand +that all arrangements are entirely in my hands." + +"To be sure. I shall not forget," said Miss Withers. + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +LINGERING ON. + +NOR did she. During many weeks following, the little slim lady neatly +accommodated herself to her new position, appealed to Gwendoline on +all occasions, came and went as she was desired, did as she was told, +and seemed quite as well content to be second as to be first. Truly +she showed single-hearted devotion, though to no worthy aim. If the +four thousand pounds might not be doubled, Miss Withers was at least +determined that there should be no loophole of a further reason for the +legacy being halved or done away with altogether. + +The motive was a powerful one with Miss Withers, and it acted +powerfully on her conduct, as such baser motives not seldom do. Pride +and love of managing went down before it. A more submissive and +unobtrusive yet useful attendant could hardly have been found. + +Gwendoline, in her comparative inexperience, found Miss Withers an +assistant of no small value. If Miss Withers felt resentment towards +Gwendoline, it was completely veiled. A stranger would have counted her +affectionate to the older and the younger lady alike. + +Had Lady Halcot passed away, as the doctor with good reason expected, +in the course of the next few days or weeks, Miss Withers would have +gained the object for which she had so patiently striven. + +There came, however, an unlooked-for rally; not real recovery, but +a partial return to something more of life and warmth. The chill +sinking and exhaustion lessened; and Lady Halcot became able to take +an interest in things about her once more. There was no talk of +dressing, or of leaving her room, for she was far too feeble for any +such exertions, yet there seemed to be an indefinite postponement of +the end, once apparently so near. Mr. Fosbrook ascribed this rally in a +large measure to the pleasure of the old lady in having Gwendoline with +her again. + +Days grew into weeks, weeks lengthened into months, and still she +lingered on, sometimes better, sometimes worse. Illness had strangely +broken the formerly stern and high spirit. + +Lady Halcot became, as time went on, gently affectionate, patient under +suffering, grateful for every attention, altogether unlike her former +self. Could illness alone have worked such a change? + +She was still, as ever, exceedingly reticent on religious topics. +Gwendoline wondered often what might be going on below the surface, +but she dared not attempt to penetrate this proof-armour of reserve. +The day after her return to the sick-room, Lady Halcot had said, with +a touch of nervous shyness, "If it will not fatigue you, Gwendoline, I +should wish you to read me the Lessons every morning, as my eyes are +now so weak." + +Gwendoline had thankfully complied, throwing much earnest feeling into +her low-voiced utterance of the sacred words. But no conversation on +these subjects had yet become possible. + + +Towards the close of summer there was again a seeming advance, more +marked than any preceding; and for several days Lady Halcot was able to +dress partially, and to be wheeled into another room on the same floor. +Gwendoline spoke of recovery in a hopeful tone, and Lady Halcot moved +her head negatively. "No, my dear; it is only for a little while. But I +feel stronger just now, and I am glad to feel so. There are one or two +things which ought to be done." + +"Not things tiring to you, I hope," said Gwendoline. + +"One must be tired sometimes," Lady Halcot answered calmly. "My plan +throughout life has always been to do what had to be done, and to let +bodily consequences take care of themselves. But of late I have been +unable to act; there has been such a lack of mental energy. I am more +like myself this week." + +She lay thinking for some minutes, while Gwendoline worked silently +by her side. Many hours each day were spent thus by the two together, +and Lady Halcot never seemed so content as when Gwendoline was her +attendant. She was not, however, a selfish invalid. Regular walks and +drives, and sufficient absence from the sick-room, were constantly +enforced; and, despite long nursing, Gwendoline had never appeared to +be in better health. + +"Gwendoline, I wish you to write to Mr. Selwyn for me. Stay,—is the +door shut?" + +"Yes,—close." + +"I do not wish to be fanciful, but precautions are occasionally +needful. Some people have not quite such a delicate sense of honour +as others—as one could wish. I suppose early training makes a great +difference in these respects. I wish you to write to Mr. Selwyn this +morning." + +"Shall I at once?" asked Gwendoline. + +"No, not here, but in your room,—presently, when Frith takes +your place. I should like you to request him to come to me +immediately,—to-morrow, if possible. Express yourself in urgent terms. +I cannot tell how long this improvement will last, and I am anxious +to take advantage of it without delay. Tell him from me that it is a +matter of serious importance. Write the letter before you go out, and +post it yourself. Say nothing to Miss Withers, if you please." + +"I will take great care," Gwendoline answered quietly; no shadow of +curiosity appearing in voice or look. + +"You are a good girl," the old lady said. "I have entire trust in you, +Gwendoline." + +Tears flushed quickly into Gwendoline's eyes, and her glance was full +of gratitude. + +"Yes, entire trust," repeated Lady Halcot. "I know you better now than +some months ago; and I would not have you other than you are in all +particulars." + +"I am so glad you are satisfied," Gwendoline said, in a low voice. + +"I am fully satisfied. But sometimes I fear it is a dull life for you. +If I were a little stronger,—not so soon shaken—" + +"I am not dull now, indeed," said Gwendoline. "Ever since I have been +allowed to wait upon you, I have been quite happy." + +"Thanks, my dear!" and Lady Halcot's voice spoke of touched feeling. +"It was not by my wish that—" Then she paused. "But no need to go into +the past. We understand one another now. Yes, I believe you are happy. +Yours is a contented spirit. Still, you are young, and you ought to see +people sometimes. I could ask some of your friends here to pay you a +visit,—Miss Dewhurst, perhaps,—but I do not feel that I could stand the +fatigue. You should go home for a few weeks' change, only I hardly can +resolve to spare you just now. Do you mind waiting a little longer? It +will not be very long, Gwendoline." + +"I could not leave you. I could not be easy away," Gwendoline +answered earnestly. "Indeed, dear Lady Halcot, I do not want any +visitors—except—till you are better." + +"Ah, that will not be," Lady Halcot answered. + +"Except my mother!" had been the words on Gwendoline's lips. "If only +my mother might come!" she longed to say. Yet, somehow, she could +not quite resolve to speak out. She had such a dread—perhaps almost +a cowardly dread—of disturbing the present calm and placid relations +between Lady Halcot and herself. The idea of seeing Mrs. Halcombe +again seemed never to occur to the latter; though of late she had +occasionally sent a message of remembrance when Gwendoline was writing +home. Later in the day Gwendoline blamed herself much for not making +better use of what might have been a good opportunity. + +The letter was written and posted as Lady Halcot wished, Miss Withers +remaining in complete ignorance of the transaction. + +Next morning Lady Halcot seemed restless, and was constantly on the +look-out. "Do you think he will come?" she asked often of Gwendoline, +adding once, "He is a busy man. But I do not think he will disappoint +me, unless compelled to do so." + +"I am sure he will not," Gwendoline said. "There may be engagements +which he cannot set aside." + +"Yes; previous engagements. I have thought of them. But you wrote +stringently? He will not disappoint me if it can be helped," she said +again. "Let me know without delay if he should come." + +An immediate response to her letter was more than Gwendoline ventured +to expect; though, seeing the old lady's heart bent upon such a +response, she was not quite without hope. A telegram, promising an +early interview, seemed to her the most likely reply; but soon after +midday, to her surprise, Mr. Selwyn himself drove up to the front door. +Gwendoline was the first to greet him, and he was evidently gratified +by her improved looks. He was soon closeted with Lady Halcot; all +others, including Gwendoline, being banished. + +The sudden appearance of the lawyer came plainly as a shock to Miss +Withers. She looked uneasy and even unhappy the rest of the day, asking +no questions, but scrutinizing sharply others' faces. Mr. Selwyn +returned to London immediately after his tête-à-tête talk with the old +lady, not waiting even for luncheon; and as he went out of the house he +was seen to rub his hands with an air of satisfaction. + + +A few days later he appeared again, and was a second time closeted +with Lady Halcot. Moreover, Mr. Fosbrook, and also the clergyman, Mr. +Rossiter, who had of late been re-admitted at the Leys and had become a +frequent caller on Lady Halcot, were both present during part of this +latter interview, evidently by previous arrangement. + +"What has Mr. Selwyn come for?" Miss Withers inquired suspiciously of +Gwendoline, prudence yielding before stronger motives. + +Gwendoline was glad to be able to reply, "I do not know, Miss Withers." + +She saw at once that the truthful utterance was not believed. Double +people are apt to suspect others of doubleness. + +"You mean that you did not expect Mr. Selwyn to come?" + +"No, I did not mean that," Gwendoline answered coldly, rather +astonished at the little woman's boldness. "I do not know what he has +come for." + +"Lady Halcot has not informed you?" + +"No. If she had, the information could go no farther, Miss Withers." + +"Certainly not," Miss Withers answered with an air of would-be +indifference. "Still, one is at liberty to conjecture in such cases. +I should suppose it to have something to do with the disposal of her +property." Miss Withers' pale eyes gave one of their stealthy cat-like +glances. + +"Very possibly. I really see no need to trouble myself with +conjectures," said Gwendoline. + +"No. Certainly no need. As you say, it is useless trouble. I am not at +all an inquisitive person, Miss Halcombe,—that never was my failing, I +am thankful to say. But naturally I am interested in all that concerns +our dear Lady Halcot." + +Gwendoline allowed the dialogue to drop, and turned away in silence. +She would have no collisions with Miss Withers which might be avoided. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +PARTING WORDS. + +THE day following was Sunday. Lady Halcot's brief improvement in health +seemed to be already on the wane. It was as if she had kept up just +long enough for the carrying out of her purposes, whatever they might +have been; and then the flickering light went down. + +"All is settled now, and my mind is at rest," she said calmly to +Gwendoline, after Mr. Selwyn's second visit. "There is nothing to +trouble me any more." + +And even before night, Gwendoline knew that she was failing. + +Early in the morning a marked change for the worse became apparent, and +Mr. Fosbrook, called hurriedly in, did not think well of her state. "I +have expected this for some time," he said gravely to Gwendoline. "The +only marvel is that she has gone on so long." + +It had been arranged that Mr. Rossiter should come in after breakfast, +to administer the Holy Communion, as he had done occasionally since she +had been entirely cut off from attending public worship. Lady Halcot +would allow no change of plan; but by the time the short service came +to an end, she was almost pulseless with exhaustion. + +About five o'clock in the afternoon she revived a little, and seemed +to enjoy a cup of tea. Gwendoline, who had not left her all day, was +keeping watch beside the couch, Frith being within call. + +"It is passing off now," Lady Halcot said. "I thought this morning that +the end was very near. Yes,—near, still, it must be. My last earthly +Communion is over." + +"Oh, not yet," Gwendoline broke out sorrowfully. "Don't talk about +leaving me yet." + +Lady Halcot's withered hand came softly on hers. + +"Will you be a little grieved to lose me, Gwendoline?" + +"A little!" Gwendoline's voice failed. + +"Yes; you will feel it, I know. You have been very good to me, my +dear, and I owe much to you. But you will have your mother and all of +them again,—your father,—your brothers and sisters. I am afraid the +separation has been hard to bear at times. If I were living the last +two years over again, I would arrange differently. Things that are done +cannot be undone." + +"We can never forget all you have done for us," murmured Gwendoline. + +"Not more than is right. Not really much; it has involved no +self-denial. But I am thankful to have been able to make these last +arrangements—just in time. Now my mind is at rest. I believe your wish +would be, Gwendoline, that your mother should be remembered in my will +rather than yourself. I have acted on that supposition,—and it will all +revert to you later." + +"Oh, thank you! I would so much rather!" Gwendoline said earnestly. + +"I felt convinced that it would be so. Also, I desired that others +should see your mother reinstated in her old position, so far as can be +now." + +"It will make mother so happy," said Gwendoline. "I know she has always +longed to feel that you had quite forgiven her,—I mean, that you felt +as you used to feel." + +"Yes; you are right to alter your form of expression. It is not a case +for forgiveness,—from me towards her. Perhaps rather from her towards +me." + +Then, after a pause for recollection, "But I was saying something. +My wish has been to reinstate her, so far as is now possible. It is +possible only in a measure. She would once have inherited all my own +property. I do not feel, however, that I can undo the gifts for the +building of the hospital and the almshouses. I may be mistaken, but it +does not appear to me right,—even though the resolution was taken under +mixed motives—under a mistake in some measure; still I cannot think I +should act rightly in reversing that decision." + +"Oh no; you could not. Mother would feel the same," said Gwendoline. + +"Yes; you agreed with me before on that question, and I was glad of it. +Your assent helped me through the difficulty. I have not forgotten. +And, after all, Mr. Selwyn finds the sum-total at my disposal to be +more than he imagined some months ago. You and your mother will not +know want. Also, I have esteemed it my duty to lessen the legacy to +Miss Withers. My opinion of her has undergone a change. Still, I do not +wish to show vexation. It has been too much my way in the past. I wish +to forgive entirely any manner of wrongdoing towards me. Miss Withers +will not find her name omitted in my remembrances to friends." + +Gwendoline was conscious of a slight stir behind the large screen +which stood between bed and door. She went to close the latter, and +saw a figure passing swiftly down the passage. Gwendoline drew her own +conclusions, yet she said nothing. + +"Yes; you are right to shut the door. I like my room kept fresh, +but it is very cold to-day. We were speaking about your mother just +now. I wish her to understand that I feel towards her as of old. All +bitterness is at an end. Sometimes, in the last week, I have considered +whether to send for her." + +Gwendoline's heart gave a bound. "If I only might!" she said +beseechingly. + +"I think not. I am too weak. I do not feel that I could stand the +agitation. Give her my love, and tell her that I regard her as my dear +Eleanor. Perhaps, just at last,—but I am not sure. I wish to keep my +mind clear now for other matters." + +Gwendoline hardly knew whether she might say more. She ventured, after +a pause, to suggest, "Mother is such a comfort in illness." + +"Yes, my dear; but it would be agitating—would call up distressing +memories. I have but one need now, Gwendoline. I want only—Christ." + +Lady Halcot seemed striving to break through the chains of her lifelong +reserve. She continued, with a manifest effort,— + +"I think those lonely weeks were good for me—strangely so. I never knew +the feeling of loneliness before; but it came then, when I believed you +did not care to come near me, and when all my old confidence was gone. +The words of that sermon returned often, and showed me what I was. 'Not +rich toward God.' Other riches seemed so worthless. And I used to think +you could perhaps have brought comfort. But it was better so. For God +Himself helped me." + +Another pause followed. Gwendoline asked gently, "Was it that sermon +that made you ill?" + +"No; the illness was coming on before. I had felt the signs of it +without recognising them. But the words of the sermon stayed by me +afterwards, and I could not put them away. 'Poverty-stricken,' he had +said I was, and I knew it to be true." + +Gwendoline's face begged for more; she could not ask it in words. + +"Some of those weeks were terribly hopeless," Lady Halcot said, in a +weary voice, as if strength were failing. "But I am glad of them now, +for I think they taught me much. I had to look to God alone, for there +was no other helper. If you had been with me, I might have leant too +much upon you." + +"I suppose the teaching that comes straight from Him is the best of +all," Gwendoline whispered. + +"Yes; I think so. Not that one would desire to choose. But He taught me +then, and He has been teaching me since—in many ways. Mr. Rossiter's +visits have been a help, and your reading too. I cannot talk much on +such matters, and I hope I do not deceive myself. I seem to have no +fears. Sometimes Christ seems so very near—so very loving. How can I +help trusting Him? After all these years of forgetfulness—so much more +than I deserve. But I think I am too weak for doctrines and doubts. +No doubt it is better so. I know He died for me. I can only just give +myself into His keeping,—like a child." + +The closing sentence was scarcely audible. Before Gwendoline could +resolve what answer to make, she added faintly, "I have wished to say +thus much—for your comfort. I cannot talk more. I am very weary." + +"You will rest now," Gwendoline said. + +"Yes; rest—now. It is over at last. So long—long—tired." + +She sank into heavy sleep, and Frith's entrance did not disturb her. +It seemed to Gwendoline that there was something unusual about this +slumber. Two hours later they had to rouse Lady Halcot, that she might +take a little nourishment, and the task proved no easy one. Still, when +Gwendoline held a spoon to her lips, she half smiled, and murmured, +"Thanks." + +"A little more, dear Lady Halcot," Gwendoline entreated. + +"No; no more. I cannot swallow. Gwendoline—is it Gwendoline?" + +Gwendoline's "Yes" came falteringly. + +"I can hardly see," Lady Halcot said, lifting her dim eyes. "Almost +dark. Will you kiss me, my dear Gwendoline?" + +The tender response brought another smile. + +"Yes; a good girl—you have been a good girl. It is almost over now, my +dear. And if—if you would like to send—send for your mother—yes—send—" + +These were nearly the last words of Lady Halcot. She fell immediately +into a state of unconsciousness bordering on coma. The doctor came, but +he found her beyond reach of remedies. A telegram had been already sent +to Mrs. Halcombe. Gwendoline had, however, small hope that she could +arrive in time. + +Once only Lady Halcot partially revived. A little before midnight +Gwendoline tried to give her some medicine, and it was refused. "Oh, +do, please," she said anxiously. "Do, dear Lady Halcot. Mother will be +here soon." + +But Lady Halcot clasped slowly her faded hands, and murmured, "No, no; +none but Christ—none but Christ now!" Then deep sleep again had her in +its keeping, and within an hour she passed away. + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +COMING. + +GWENDOLINE, numb and bewildered, could shed no tears. Frith persuaded +her to go to bed, and she lay tossing to and fro, with intervals of +stupefied stillness, sometimes journeying again through the scenes +of the last few days, sometimes recalling the events of the past two +years, sometimes unable to think at all. Sleep proved an impossibility. + +Her mind was in a state of restless distraction—oppressed with genuine +grief, yet by no means altogether sorrowful. While distressed for Lady +Halcot's death, and sincerely feeling the loss of a real friend, she +yet turned ever and anon with a sense of positive joy to the thought of +"home." Gwendoline almost hated herself for the joy, but she could not +do away with it. Life at the Leys had been at its best much shadowed. +The commingling of sorrow and of pleasurable anticipation amounted to +pain and strain, gradually resolving itself into a definite present +longing for her mother. The aching of heart took refuge here. + +By six o'clock she was up and dressed, unable any longer to lie still. +Her first move was to steal softly into the library for a "time-table," +and to look-out London trains. Mrs. Halcombe might possibly arrive a +little before eight; not sooner. Gwendoline was sure she would come +then, if possible. + +Two whole hours, or nearly so, of waiting. Gwendoline did not know +what to do with herself in the interim. She returned to her bedroom, +and endeavoured there to read her Bible, and to kneel for her usual +morning devotions. The Bible-reading was almost a failure. With the +utmost effort of will, she could not fix attention upon two consecutive +verses. Prayer proved a different matter. A succession of definite +petitions was beyond her power, but she could and did spend a time in +submissive wordless waiting at the Divine footstool, looking for such +help as she needed. Nor did the help fail her. When she rose, much of +the restless heart-pain was stilled. + +A thought flashed into her mind, to be acted upon unhesitatingly. +Gwendoline took a hat from the wardrobe, found a light flower-basket, +and went quietly down-stairs into the garden. Servants were not yet +about, and no one saw her. She made her exit through the conservatory, +unlocking the inner and outer doors. + +It was an exquisite morning, sunshine flooding the air. Birds sang +exuberantly, and flowers, breaking into bloom, lifted their faces +to the blue sky. The house behind, with its closed shutters, was a +contrast to this abounding life and brightness. Gwendoline looked back +sorrowfully, and thought of the small still form lying within, calmly +at rest, after nearly eighty years of life. + +"Yes, real rest," murmured Gwendoline, as she passed among the +rosebushes, gathering here and there a blossom of surpassing beauty. +"How could one wish to keep her? If I were so old and weary, I should +not wish to be kept. Dear Lady Halcot! How good she has been to me! +Oh, I am thankful she was not taken four or five months ago, before we +really knew one another. I must not give way to wrong feelings about +Miss Withers. After all, no lasting harm has been done—thanks to Mr. +Fosbrook; and perhaps she did not deliberately intend mischief. People +sometimes act worse than they really mean. And it is all over now—quite +at an end. I don't want to think of her with any bitterness." + +The basket was quickly filled from the profusion of roses around, and +Gwendoline turned homewards, entering again through the conservatory, +and leaving sunshine behind. The darkness of the silent house weighed +upon her heavily. Half-past six sounded from the hall clock, and still +she appeared to be the only person stirring. Gwendoline went slowly up +the broad staircase, and paused at Lady Halcot's door, turning the key +gently. + +Nobody within—except the placid figure which "had" been Lady Halcot, +now only a marble and lifeless image. No, not only; for that same form, +though "ashes to ashes, dust to dust," was its present verdict, should +yet be raised again, in new and glorious beauty, "at the Resurrection, +in the Last Day." + +A shiver crept over Gwendoline, not so much of fear as of sorrow. She +had been in the presence of death before, and she had no feelings of +terror. Yet, standing face to face with the cold image, she realized +what she had lost—and realized not yet what Lady Halcot had gained. + +Gwendoline roused herself with an effort, and began placing her +flowers, laying a crimson rose here, or a creamy bloom there, with +tender and loving fingers. The work was absorbing, and drew her out of +herself. When the basket was empty, she gave one long look, bent to +kiss the chill brow, and went quietly back into her own room. + +Nothing now remained but to await patiently her mother's arrival. Once +or twice the thought struck her—what if Mrs. Halcombe did not come +by this particular train? But that conjecture was put aside at once. +Gwendoline did not feel as if she could endure longer delay. After +half-past seven she took her station at the window, watching with +concentrated attention of eye and ear. + +Eight o'clock was not far distant, when a sound of wheels became +audible. Gwendoline caught one glimpse, through the trees, of an +approaching fly, and before it could reach the front door she was +standing there on the doorstep, in a suppressed tumult of feeling. A +little worn woman descended, and for three seconds the two held one +another in a voiceless embrace. + +"Gwen,—am I in time?" + +"No, mother; oh, mother!" + +"Hush, my darling, hush!"—For Gwendoline was clinging to her in a +passion of sobs, which were yet by no means all sorrow. + +The joy of reunion had at least an equal share in her feelings. She +was, however, overstrained by long watching, and nervous excitement +was not to be at once mastered; while the very relief of finding +herself again a child under a parent's care made self-command the more +difficult. + +"Hush, Gwennie," Mrs. Halcombe repeated. "Don't cry so, dear." + +"Oh, mother, if you could have been in time. But it was impossible." + +Mrs. Halcombe asked, "When?" in a low voice. + +"Last night, about half-past twelve." + +They went slowly up the broad staircase, Mrs. Halcombe gathering at +every step fresh recollections of her girlish days spent under this +roof. Gwendoline indicated by a gesture the room in which Lady Halcot +lay. + +"I will go there by and by," Mrs. Halcombe said in a low voice, which +trembled somewhat. + +Then they reached Gwendoline's pretty boudoir. Mrs. Halcombe removed +her cloak and sat down, Gwendoline kneeling at her side, to cling anew +and shed more tears. + +"Oh, mother, it has been so long, so sad," she said, with a sigh of +mingled pain and relief. "I hardly know how the last few weeks have +gone. I love Lady Halcot dearly now, and I do miss her; but—oh, mother, +I have not known how to get on without you." + +"Yes; it has been very long," Mrs. Halcombe echoed. "Two whole years." + +"I have wondered sometimes if they ever would end, mother. It isn't +as if I had been used before to living long away from you. We were so +seldom parted. Still, I could have come back here happily now; it has +been so different of late, since dear Lady Halcot has really understood +me, and has been so gentle and loving." + +Mrs. Halcombe repeated the two adjectives, as if surprised, adding, +"She must have been much altered at the last. Then she did not +understand you earlier, my Gwen?" + +"Things were different, mother. Not so much at first as later. I could +not tell you all in letters, and it seemed useless to worry you; but +now you must hear everything. The worst was over some time ago. It has +been all right lately." + +"Then you really were not quite happy at one time, my dear. I felt sure +of it; yet there was nothing in your letters to take hold of." + +"I used to be lonely, with no one to care for me, and Lady Halcot so +changed and cold." + +"But, Gwen, what made her cold?" + +"Miss Withers came between," said Gwendoline quietly. "I could not +unravel the tangle then, but it is plain enough now. I don't like to +let myself think that she meant it all deliberately,—still—it 'was' her +doing. When Lady Halcot first fell ill, Miss Withers kept me out of the +room for weeks; and Lady Halcot had been so cold before that I did not +dare to act,—I could not tell whether she wished to see me. I did so +long for you then, mother. There was nobody to speak a kind word to me, +unless I happened to meet Mr. Rossiter or Mr. Fosbrook out of doors; +but that only happened once or twice, quite early in the illness." + +"If I had known the state of things, Gwen—" + +"Ah, but I could not bear to trouble you, mother, when I knew you could +do nothing. Mr. Fosbrook managed at last to see me alone, and to let me +know that he did not think I was shut out of the room by Lady Halcot's +own wish. Things soon came right then. I'll tell you all about it +another time; but I found that Lady Halcot had been under quite a false +impression, supposing me to keep away of my own free will. You cannot +think how happy she was to have me again. From that time she has always +seemed to trust me thoroughly. But she never would quite believe the +worst of Miss Withers; and I am trying not to feel harshly about her. I +suppose it was a great temptation to get everything into her own hands. +But here comes the tea, and you must need it." + +Frith herself bore the little tray. Mrs. Halcombe kept her for a few +minutes in conversation. + +"Lady Halcot has been a good mistress to me," Frith said, with tears in +her eyes. "I would never ask a better. There are those who counted my +lady stern; but she was always just,—always the same. I don't know what +I shall do now she is gone." + +Both mother and daughter felt better for a little refreshment. + +When Frith was gone, Mrs. Halcombe could venture at last to put the +question,—"Gwen, was there no message for me at the last?" + +Gwendoline told all that had passed, finding comfort in the narration. +She had not known such freedom of speech for a long while as during +this hour. Even at the best there had been always a measure of +constraint between herself and Lady Halcot, owing in part to the +intense constitutional reserve of the latter. Now she could say what +she liked, and could say it as she liked. + +"I shall begin to think I am a child again," she said. "It is so +wonderful to be with you, and to feel quite free, with no fear of +blundering and doing the wrong thing. Do tell me now about father and +all of them. I am thirsting for home-news. How is father?" + +"Quite well,—much better than he used to be; the pressure has been so +lessened of late. If it had not been for your absence,—but even in +spite of that I have sometimes thought him looking ten years younger." + +"If I had not come here when Lady Halcot asked me—" Gwendoline said, +half to herself. + +"Ah, our position would be different indeed. I see that now. You and he +were quite right, Gwennie. It would have been a positive sin to throw +aside such an offer; and you are none the worse for it, my darling, +though I am afraid you have had much more to go through than we ever +imagined. But the parting has been hard to bear at times,—the feeling +that we were so completely cut off from you, and might never venture +to come to Riversmouth. I used to lie at night and wonder how it would +be if you were taken ill,—whether Lady Halcot would relent then. Now I +see how faithless I have been. Everything has been arranged for us so +wonderfully,—so lovingly." + +"And I thought at one time that the plan was a punishment to me for +discontent," said Gwendoline. + +"You don't think so now?" + +"Oh no, mother." Then in a half-bewildered voice Gwendoline broke +out—"Home!—Am I really going home,—to live there?" + +"Will you be sorry, my dear?" + +"Sorry! Mother, how can you ask?" + +Mrs. Halcombe glanced round the room. "I am afraid our house will +look very small and shabby to you after this,—not quite so crowded, +certainly, since the three have been at school,—but still—" + +"It is home," said Gwendoline simply. "I don't want more than that." +With a sigh she added, "Mother, it is such rest to have you here! But +go on, please,—tell me more about them all." + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +LADY HALCOT'S WILL. + +"IT is such rest to have you here," Gwendoline said repeatedly to her +mother; and the sense of rest grew upon her hour by hour. + +There was necessarily much to be done and much to be heard, mournful +in kind; but Mrs. Halcombe took things into her own hands, sparing her +child in every possible way. When the first excitement of their meeting +was over, Gwendoline proved to be temporarily unwell enough, from all +she had gone through, to need being spared. + +Miss Withers did not appear at breakfast that morning, and an encounter +between her and Mrs. Halcombe was thus delayed until near luncheon. +When the said encounter took place, it was quiet, not to say prosaic in +kind. Mrs. Halcombe said politely, "How do you do?" And, after a return +of the utterance, "I hope you are well. This has been a very trying +week for you all." + +Miss Withers assented, with downcast eyes, and a murmur of "Thanks, +yes,—exceedingly trying," and appeared anxious to get away as soon as +possible. + +During the next few days she studiously shunned both mother and +daughter, and looked unhappy. + +The funeral was conducted with heavy solemn grandeur, according to +Halcot and Riversmouth traditions. + +Afterward came the reading of the will; a singular document, with +its weighty addenda in the shape of long codicils carefully undoing +previous arrangements. + +Mrs. Halcombe and Gwendoline were, of course, present; as also were +Miss Withers, Mr. Rossiter, and Mr. Fosbrook. Mr. Selwyn had come down +from London for the occasion. The nephew, known to be the heir-at-law, +had made his appearance in time for the funeral; and there were also +three or four distant relatives, elderly gentlemen, all more or less +grave, embarrassed, and expectant. Gwendoline, treated by all as in +a sense the daughter of the house, was thankful for the help of her +mother's presence. Mrs. Halcombe quietly took the lead, and, by Mr. +Selwyn's advice, acted as temporary hostess. + +The Riversmouth estate, together with the title, descended as a matter +of course to the said nephew, a gentlemanly young man, Philip Halcot by +name. Most of the later alterations in the will were in respect of Lady +Halcot's disposable property, inherited chiefly from her mother. + +The large sums set apart for hospital and almshouses had been left +untouched; as, too, were legacies to the amount of nearly twenty +thousand pounds, left to numerous friends and distant relatives, +including the three or four present on this occasion. Old servants and +family retainers also were not forgotten. In place of four thousand +pounds to Miss Withers, five hundred pounds were left to her, and five +hundred to each of her two nieces and to Conrad. + +Mrs. Halcombe found herself the possessor of thirteen thousand pounds, +in addition to the yearly five hundred already given, both to be +held in trust; the thirteen thousand pounds to revert to Gwendoline +on her own death; the annual five hundred to become Gwendoline's on +either her own or her husband's death, whichever was the survivor. To +Gwendoline immediately was left the bulk of Lady Halcot's personal +possessions,—jewellery, plate, books, pictures, many valuable +knickknacks, and numerous articles of furniture. + +"No inconsiderable legacy," the lawyer remarked in an undertone. + +At the moment Gwendoline did not at all realize the worth of that which +had fallen to her share. + +"Mother, how good Lady Halcot has been to us! I am glad it is not +more," she breathed to Mrs. Halcombe in an undertone, as the party +present filed slowly out of the room, leaving only herself and her +mother with Mr. Selwyn. + +One pale-faced disappointed woman, passing out among the rest, could +not have echoed these words. + +"I am glad it is as much," Mr. Selwyn said, rising and coming nearer. +"There was a time when I feared matters would have a different ending. +Accept my sincere congratulations, Mrs. Halcombe. I only wish it were +more." + +"Don't wish that," Mrs. Halcombe answered, with a rather tremulous +smile. "Gwen and I do not. This will be wealth to us." + +"The jewels are a property in themselves," remarked Mr. Selwyn. "There +are some, handed down from the Halcots, which Lady Halcot did not think +she could rightly alienate from the estate. The larger proportion of +her jewellery was, however, inherited from her mother; and the bulk of +this is left to Miss Halcombe." + +"Lady Halcot showed me some of her jewels once," said Gwendoline. "I +thought them very pretty." + +Mr. Selwyn could not resist a smile. He repeated the word "Pretty!" and +stroked his chin. "Yes, undoubtedly. There are many more than you have +seen, however. The value of the jewellery alone, which now belongs to +you, amounts at the lowest estimate to several thousand pounds. They +are a property in themselves," he repeated complacently. "The diamonds +are particularly fine,—and there are good turquoises." + +"I shall hardly know what to do with them," said Gwendoline. + +"You will, of course, have them in a place of safety, my dear Miss +Halcombe." + +"I suppose I may keep out a brooch or two for use," said Gwendoline. +"And I should like to have by me the ones that Lady Halcot used +commonly. May I give something to Ruth,—a brooch and a bracelet, I +mean?" She looked eagerly now at the lawyer. + +"They are your own, and you are of age," said Mr. Selwyn. "But I would +advise you not to act too hastily,—not to part with anything that you +might regret later." + +"Oh, I shall not regret. The best part of having more is to be able to +give away," said Gwendoline. "Mother, there is a beautiful little ruby +brooch which would just do for Ruth; she does so admire rubies. And I +should like to take Honor a gold bracelet,—quite a plain one." + +"There are the pictures also," observed Mr. Selwyn, after a rather +dissatisfied pause; "not to speak of a very handsome supply of plate." + +Gwendoline seemed rather bewildered. "The plate will be useful, of +course," she said. "I know we are always short of spoons and forks. But +the pictures,—we have so little room at home." + +"The number of pictures is not great, but they are of very considerable +value. Possibly you may not always remain in your present home," said +Mr. Selwyn. + +"No; I have had that in my mind," said Mrs. Halcombe. "We have so often +wished to move, and have not felt Justified in going to the expense. +But things will be different now. I am sure my husband will agree with +me in thinking that the right time has come." + +"A house in the country," suggested the lawyer, "within reasonable +distance of London, so that the boys could run in and out by train. The +pictures and furniture would prove no slight assistance in the event of +such a move; until, of course, Miss Halcombe finds a home of her own." + +"No fear of 'that' for a long while to come," Gwendoline answered, +smiling and not blushing. + +Somewhat later, when alone with her mother, Gwendoline asked, "Mother, +did you notice Miss Withers' face while the will was being read?" + +"Yes, I saw. I was sorry for her." + +"I wish one could say something to her, mother." + +"Something of what sort?" + +"Why, to help her. She looks so unhappy." + +"I don't quite know what could be said. We have our suspicions—more +than suspicions—as to her share in the alterations which were made in +the will. But it would hardly do to allude to those suspicions, Gwen." + +"No, of course not. Only, if one could gain her confidence, mother!" + +"If one could! There is not much hope, I am afraid. She rebuffs most +decidedly all approaches on my part." + +"And on mine too. Yes, that is the difficulty. I have hardly had a +dozen words from her for days." + +Nor was Gwendoline to have many more. Two hours later, a closed fly +stood before the door, and some large boxes were carried out. Miss +Withers presently entered the drawing-room, wearing her bonnet, and +carrying a small travelling-bag. She seemed composed as usual, except +that her under lip twitched nervously. + +"I have come to say good-bye to your daughter, Mrs. Halcombe," the +smooth voice said. + +"Are you going already?" asked Gwendoline in surprise. + +"There is no object in my remaining longer. I believe you and Mrs. +Halcombe leave to-morrow?" + +"The day after," Mrs. Halcombe answered, for she found much still to be +arranged. + +"There is no object in my remaining," Miss Withers said again, with the +slight twitch of her lip. "I—I had a letter yesterday from one of my +nieces, deciding me to hasten away." + +"You will have tea before starting?" said Gwendoline kindly. + +"Thanks,—no; I do not require anything, and the journey is not long." + +"Perhaps some day you will write and tell me how you are getting on," +said Gwendoline. + +"Thanks. You are very good;" and Miss Withers extended a limp hand. +"Good-bye." + +"Good-bye. I hope you will have a pleasant journey," Gwendoline said, +kindly still, though with an effort. + +"Good-bye," added Mrs. Halcombe. + +Miss Withers passed out of the room, and speedily drove away, dropping +thus in a moment, as it were, out of Gwendoline's life. + +Miss Withers went to reside in the same town with her nieces, bitter +in spirit at her failure; and Lady Halcot's legacies sowed dissension +between them and herself. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +THE OLD HOME. + +TWO days later there was a stir of excitement in the dingy London home +from which Gwendoline Halcombe had been so long absent. James, the +second lad, opportunely had a half-holiday; and with the two younger +boys, Willie and Robert, he was all the afternoon exceedingly busy, +putting up an arch of welcome inside the front door. It was not an +artistically beautiful erection. Green things are by no means easily +obtained in London, and a scanty supply of leaves had to be eked out +with much coloured paper. But none the less would the arch speak +eloquently to Gwendoline's heart. + +The three intermediate boys, Edmund, Frederick, and Arthur, had been +for a year past, boarders in a large school, only coming home for +the holidays. James' school-days were now drawing to a close, a good +opening in a mercantile house having been recently found for him. He +was a pleasant sensible lad, plain-featured, but warmhearted. + +Ruth, staidly working in the shabby little drawing-room, presently +overheard a low-voiced discussion outside her door, between +seven-years-old Bob and little fair-haired Nell, the latter being as +much as ever the family pet and plaything. + +"I think I shall be just a scrap afraid of Gwen," Bob said +confidentially. "She is such a grand lady, you know, Nell,—not like +mother and Ruth. Willie says there's a drawing-room at the Leys as big +as this whole house almost; and he says Gwen will be quite different, +and will always wear silk frocks, and won't like us to come too near." + +Ruth could picture Nell's troubled eyes, as the little voice said +tenderly, "Won't she? I'm sorry, Bob. I thought she'd want me to get up +in her lap and kiss her, because she's sorry." + +"Well, she won't," said Bob decidedly. "And I don't see what she has +got to be sorry for. She is a grand lady now, with lots of things +belonging to her; and she won't care, of course, to play with a little +wee thing like you." + +"Is mother going to be grand too?" asked Nell. + +"Oh, mother is different! I don't think anything would make mother +grand. But you'll see about Gwen! You'll see!" + +Bob and Nell called Ruth suddenly; and they ran in. + +"Bob, you are putting very silly ideas into Nell's head,—Very silly +indeed," said Ruth, with sharpness. "Gwen is not a grand lady at all. +She is our own sister. Living in a large house and having pretty +clothes has not made her any less our sister." + +"And will Gwen love us, Ruth?" asked little Nell. + +"Of course she will," answered Ruth. + +"And will she like to have me kiss her?" + +"Of course she will. Bob has been talking great nonsense." + +"Willie told me," Bob said, prompt to throw off blame. + +"Then Willie was very absurd," said Ruth. + +Probably her words would have been more convincing had they been +less rough. The children exchanged glances, and did not seem greatly +reassured. + +"Willie was very absurd indeed to say anything of the kind," repeated +Ruth more energetically. "And you are silly children to believe him. If +you seem frightened of Gwen when she comes in, you will just make her +unhappy, that's all!" + +The two little listeners took this for a dismissal, and they went back +into the hall, looking subdued. + +"Nell, you don't remember Gwen?" Bob said softly. + +"No," Nell answered, shaking her small head. "Not one bit." + +"I don't either,—hardly at all," said Bob. "But Willie does, and he +says she is ever so much nicer than Ruth." + +"Does he?" asked Nell rather wonderingly, as if she found this report +of Willie's opinion at variance with the last. + +"Ruth speaks so 'cross,'" said Bob. "Willie says Gwen never used to +speak so cross as Ruth does, and he likes her ever so much the best. +Only you mustn't tell Ruth, you know, because that would make her +crosser." + +Ruth heard the words, and, strange to say, she was not angry. With a +naturally impatient and angular disposition, she could yet bear to +learn her faults. Bob's words caused a thoughtful half-hour following. + +Then Mr. Halcombe came home, and Victor a little later, just in time. + +Almost immediately the front bell rang sharply, and Gwendoline ran +lightly up the steps, to find herself in the midst of welcomes. Not +quite such eager and enthusiastic welcomes as everybody had expected, +for the boys seemed suddenly seized with shyness. Two years had altered +Gwendoline, and they were sensible of the alteration, without knowing +wherein it consisted. Gwen had been a pretty girl at nineteen, but at +twenty-one the prettiness was matured and developed; her bearing had +gained much in ease and grace; and the short hair had grown long enough +to be turned up in a coil of plaits. Also, though her new mourning was +studiously simple in kind, there was about the make of her dress and +about the manner of wearing it a certain style and finish, marking her +out as apart from the other members of the family. + +The boys fell into silence, and Ruth for once appeared tongue-tied. + +Gwendoline was somehow ushered into the drawing-room, and there she +stood dreamily, her arm linked in Mr. Halcombe's, as she glanced +wistfully from one to another. "Dear old home!" she said at length. +"Oh, dear old home!" + +"It must look awfully shabby after the Leys," remarked Victor, plucking +up courage. + +"It looks small," Gwendoline admitted, smiling. "Dear old place! Oh, +father!" + +She turned and clung to him. + +"My own dear child!" he said repeatedly. "My good self-forgetting Gwen!" + +"No, no! Not that. But it is all over now. And indeed she was very very +good to me, and I 'did' love her very much. But this is home. Father, +kiss me again! I can hardly believe I am really here." + +"Gwen, did you see our triumphal arch?" asked Jem bashfully. + +No; Gwen had seen nothing, on first coming in, beyond the familiar +faces. She proposed to inspect it immediately, and her bright frank +gratification went far towards reinstating her in her old position with +the boys. Coming back into the drawing-room, they clustered round, +chattering in eager tones, while Nell clung to her hand confidingly. + +"The tea will be ready in ten minutes," said Ruth. "Would you like to +take off your bonnet, Gwen? Mother has gone to get ready." + +"Yes, if you please. The same room, I suppose?" + +"No, not the same. I'll show you," Ruth said, moving towards the +staircase. "Mother thought you would like a room to yourself; and we +are not quite so crowded now except in the holidays." + +Gwendoline followed Ruth to her new domicile, and stood there for a few +seconds in silence, looking round. + +She was conscious at once of two things,—how eagerly all had done +their best to make the little room comfortable, and how very meagre +was the result after her late surroundings. But no sign of the latter +consciousness showed in her face. + +"Ruth, are you sure this can be spared to me?" + +"Of course. Quite sure. The only difficulty will be in the holidays, +and they are only just over." After a pause, Ruth added bluntly, +"Everything must seem wretched to you here at the best." + +"Not 'wretched,'" said Gwendoline gently. + +"Well, shabby and poor and disagreeable. I should hate it all, in your +place." + +"Oh no, you would not. It is home; and the other never seemed like +home." + +"Home isn't always necessarily the very best thing that can be in +life," said Ruth rather wearily. "At least, I don't find it so. One may +have too much of it." + +Gwendoline looked at her sister doubtfully. "Why, Ruth—" she began, and +stopped. + +"You have been away for two years, so of course you are no judge," said +Ruth. "And you used to feel the same." + +"But I thought—" Gwen hesitated again, recalling Ruth's sharp lectures +to herself, in past days, upon discontent, yet hardly liking to allude +to them. + +"Never mind me. I am only cross," said Ruth, recurring in mind to Bob's +words. "It's of no consequence." + +"I would rather know what really is the matter," said Gwendoline. + +"Nothing is the matter. I tell you I am only cross. One must grumble +sometimes. It is such a tread-mill of a life,—always going on the +same,—nothing but doing things for other people, and never having any +gratitude in return. Not one of the boys cares for me as they all do +for you. And I have not had a night out of this house for four years." + +"No. I have thought of that, Ruth dear. Mother and I were talking about +it only yesterday. We want to arrange for you to have a holiday." + +"There is nowhere to go. Nobody wants me." + +"There is Riversmouth," Gwendoline said, with rather a sad smile. "I +should like you to see the place where I have been so long. How would +you like two or three weeks there?" + +Ruth's eyes brightened, but she only said, "I can't go alone. Don't +talk nonsense, Gwen. I shall do very well." + +"I don't think you will. Mother told me she did not believe you were +quite strong, and now I can see it for myself. You want a little +change, I am sure." + +"Anybody would in this stuffy London atmosphere, after four years," +Ruth said rather gruffly. "But it is no matter to anybody except +myself." + +"Well, we shall all have a change, by and by, if we take another +house," said Gwen. + +"Do you suppose we really shall?" Ruth looked eager as she put the +question. "We seem such fixtures here, like limpets grown to a rock." + +"Mother seems to have no doubt about the matter. Of course she cannot +speak decidedly till she has talked things over with father, but she +knows beforehand what he will say. A nice little house with a garden, +in the country, but near enough to London by train for the boys to run +in and out. Don't you think that sounds tempting, Ruth?" + +Ruth's "Yes" was listless. "If I could really believe it!" she added. + +"You will not be so sceptical soon," said Gwendoline brightly. "But of +course that cannot take place directly, and mother and I want you to +have a change the very first thing. I don't know exactly how it is to +be arranged—" + +"Ruth! Gwen! Ruth! Tea is getting cold!" shouted Victor, from +down-stairs. "And something is waiting for Gwen!" + +"Something!" repeated Gwendoline. She opened the door to call, "Yes, +we are coming, Victor," and then drew hastily from her bag a tiny +cardboard box. "Ruth, I want just to give you this first. I should have +liked to bring several things, but mother would not let me do more in a +hurry. I hope you will think it pretty." + +Ruth opened the box, and flushed with pleasure. A small round brooch +lay upon white cotton wool—itself a mass of rubies clustered together, +rich, and yet simple. Ruth quite gasped. "Gwen!—This isn't for me." + +"Yes. I know your fancy for rubies. Do you care to have it?" + +"Oh, Gwen!" + +Ruth's one kiss spoke volumes. Then they ran down-stairs together. + +"Here, Gwen,—look!" exclaimed a chorus. + +The tea-table had been laid as for a festive occasion, bearing Ruth's +best efforts in the shape of fancy-bread and cakes. Gwen's seat was +by her father, Nell's high chair being on her other side. And beside +Gwen's plate lay a magnificent bunch of hothouse flowers, filling the +room with fragrance. + +"Mother!" Gwendoline exclaimed in astonishment. + +"Who do you think it is from?" asked Victor. + +Gwen's eyes went to her mother. "Not Honor?" she said. + +"Gwen's first idea is always Honor," said Victor, feeling himself once +more on easy brotherly terms. + +"No, not Honor," said Mrs. Halcombe, smiling. + +Gwendoline's look was unmistakably perplexed. + +"Have you forgotten your friend, Mr. Selwyn?" asked Victor. + +"Is it really from Mr. Selwyn? How good of him!" + +"It is 'a' Mr. Selwyn," Victor said softly by her side. "But he isn't a +lawyer, and he has a limp." + +Gwen's colour rose slightly. "Very kind," she said. "Was there any +message from Mr. Selwyn, mother?" + +"No, dear. Mr. Mortimer Selwyn simply gave in the bouquet, said it was +'for Miss Halcombe,' and asked if you were well after your journey. +Jane begged him to come in, but he declined." + +"I suppose they ought to go into water," said Gwendoline quietly. +"Ruth, have we a vase large enough?" + +A China flower-pot served the required purpose, in default of a +sufficiently capacious vase. The boys insisted on its being placed +exactly in her front, and Gwen's half-pleased half-perplexed look was a +pretty study in her mother's eyes. + +Tea went on merrily thereafter,—such a joyous meal as Gwendoline +had not known for two years past. She felt strangely dreamy, almost +oppressed,—happy in the present, yet bewildered by the unwonted stir, +and haunted constantly by vivid recollections of Lady Halcot's face and +voice. The strain was becoming too much, and the boys' high spirits +were almost more than she could stand. She was positively thankful when +tea came to an end, and Mrs. Halcombe said, in a low voice, "You are +tired, Gwen. We must give you a quiet evening." + +Gwendoline's face quivered irresistibly. "It isn't much, mother," she +said. "I am very very glad to be here again—only just now and then +everything seems to come back,—and I hear 'her' voice so plainly—" + +"Yes, I saw; dear child! But the boys don't understand, of course." + +"I can't expect that they should. Mother, I think I will go to my room +for just half an hour. I should like to be alone,—but that will be long +enough." + +"Yes, darling." + +The brief response was the best she could have given. Gwendoline +vanished, and Mrs. Halcombe quietly exerted herself to keep everybody +away from Gwen's door. She could well understand the sharp contrast +between life in this house and life at the Leys, and could well believe +the mingling of joy and pain which so tried Gwendoline's fortitude. + +The half-hour at an end, she went herself to Gwendoline's room, and +with a light tap entered. Gwen was seated by her dressing-table, with +an open Bible near, though seemingly not reading. The face which +greeted Mrs. Halcombe was calm and happy. + +"Better, Gwennie?" + +"Oh yes, mother. It was stupid to be so easily upset." + +Mrs. Halcombe sat down beside her, and said, "You are accustomed to +being a good deal alone." + +"Yes, too much, I am afraid. It seems quite strange to have so many +round me. I hope I have not grown unsociable." + +"It is not that to-night, dear. You have had a great deal to try you." + +"Yes—perhaps—altogether," Gwendoline admitted. "But thinking about dear +Lady Halcot is not 'only' pain, mother. It must be such rest to her." + +"I cannot tell you, Gwen, what a pleasure it is to me that you were +able to give her real love," Mrs. Halcombe said. + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +WINDINGS-UP. + +"I CANNOT think why Honor does not come in, if only for a minute," +Gwendoline said more than once, in the course of her first evening. +No one took any particular notice of the remark, and Gwen waited +patiently, stilling herself with the certainty that Honor had some good +reason. Perhaps she would not intrude on the family circle so soon. +"But Honor might have been sure of a welcome," Gwen thought. + +Next morning, after breakfast, Mrs. Halcombe said unexpectedly, "Gwen, +are you going to see Honor this morning?" + +"I wish I could, mother. No use, I am afraid, for she will be away at +her painting. I quite thought she would have come last night." + +"I think you had better call. Honor is not well, and she will be at +home." + +"Honor ill!" + +"Not ill now. She has been so,—not dangerously, but it was a sharp +attack. She is very much pulled down, and cannot work yet." + +"Mother, why did you not tell me before?" Gwen asked, almost +reproachfully. + +"Honor would not allow it. She made us promise not to say a word to +you sooner than was necessary. She could not bear you to be troubled. +It was about three weeks ago that the attack began, and, having just +written to you, she knew you would not expect to hear again for a time. +Honor always thinks of everybody except herself. But Ruth and I have +been in and out constantly, and have done our best to brighten her up." + +Gwendoline had tears in her eyes. "My poor Honor! Ill, and never to let +me know!" + +"It seemed to be Honor's chief comfort that you did not know. How she +does love you, Gwen!" the mother added affectionately. "But, indeed, I +do not wonder." + +"What has been the matter?" Gwen asked, answering the last words with a +kiss. + +"I hardly know. Too much application at her painting, and not enough +exercise, and a severe chill. She is a generous creature, and gives +away too much, and then has to work doubly hard. I promised that you +should go to her this morning, Gwen. Wait one moment; I want to say +something about our idea of sending Ruth to Riversmouth." + +"Ruth seemed to like the idea," Gwendoline said, trying to curb her +impatience. + +"Yes, very much, and she really needs a change. Your father thinks the +same. But I cannot be the one to go with her." + +"I wish you would," Gwen said affectionately. + +"No; I have just been away, and there is so much to arrange. Besides, I +really cannot resolve to part with you quite so soon. But what do you +say to sending Honor as Ruth's companion?" + +"Mother! What a perfectly delightful idea!" + +"It would do Honor good, and be just the thing for Ruth. Your father +and I both wish it, dear; and you must tell Honor she will be doing us +a real kindness. Ruth has grown so fond of her lately that she is sure +to like the plan." + +"Delightful!" repeated Gwendoline. "Mother, how you always think of +exactly the right thing! When do you suppose they can go?" + +"Honor ought to have change in a few days, her doctor says. I fancy she +has been in some difficulty how to manage it. Now, darling, I will not +keep you longer. Say whatever you like, only make Honor understand that +the expense will be our affair." + +"After to-day I am going to take up housekeeping, and give you a little +rest," Gwendoline said, kissing her mother, and she ran up-stairs with +a light step, singing softly by the way. + +"Dear child!" Mrs. Halcombe murmured. "Not in the least spoilt." + + +Honora Dewhurst had not yet risen. Her bedroom was small, and at the +back of the house, with a window which looked out upon a high wall. +Inside all was daintily nice, however simple. Honor's own plain face +hardly looked handsomer for illness; yet the peace stamped upon it +was such that even a careless looker-on must have been attracted. She +lay quietly, with her hands folded one over the other, and her eyes +fixed upon the tiny scrap of grey sky visible through one window-pane. +Suddenly a voice at the door said,— + +"Honor, may I come in?" + +"Yes, Gwen." + +Gwendoline entered softly, bearing a choice little bunch of hothouse +flowers, gathered out of her big bouquet. Honor had never seen her +look more brilliantly pretty. Mourning was becoming to her clear and +fair complexion, and the bright flush on either cheek, matched by the +sparkling eyes, was tempered by an expression of gentle solicitude. But +Gwen's face changed suddenly at the first glimpse of Honor's smile. +Dropping her flowers on the bed, she clasped her friend's hand, and hid +her face in the pillow. + +"Why, Gwennie!—My dear Gwennie!" said Honor. + +Gwendoline lifted a pair of wet eyes. "Honor, why didn't you tell me +you were ill?" + +"My dear child, what was the use? I am getting on all right now,—able +to sit up half the day at least. I hope to be at my painting again next +week." + +"That you certainly will not," said Gwen resolutely. "Honor, what had +you been thinking about just before I came in?" + +Honor did not answer the question. She turned Gwen towards the light, +saying, "So,—let me see. Yes; the face is the same,—not changed by +absence, and not spoilt by all the grandeur." + +"I used to be very tired of the grandeur sometimes." + +"And now you will be sometimes very tired of its absence." + +"I hope not. It is very sweet to be at home again,—only just at first +everything seems strange. Honor, everything seems so happy just +now,—almost everything! Only I do wish I could see you well." + +"Wait a few days, dear." + +"Yes; a few days. Mother and I are going to ask a great favour of you +then." + +Honor's look was questioning. + +"Ruth wants change. She is rather overdone, and not quite herself. We +think of sending her to Riversmouth for two or three weeks, perhaps +a month. And the difficulty is, whom to send with her. Mother cannot +well get away just now. So we want you to go, and to be there with +Ruth,—just as if you were one of ourselves. You understand, Honor? +Ruth would see after the housekeeping; and of course it would cost you +nothing,—only you would just be Ruth's companion." + +"And duenna," suggested Honor. + +"Yes; if you like. I am not going to hear one word against the plan. +Mother and I have quite set our hearts upon it. And I shall write to +Mr. Fosbrook, and ask him to consider you his patient. You are 'not' to +say No." + +Honor seemed to have no such intention. She only answered quietly, "It +is very good of your mother. Something always comes up when needed." + +"And you know this is needed." + +"The doctor says I ought to have a change before beginning work. But I +could not quite see my way to it. This illness has been an expense." + +"And going to Riversmouth is to be no expense,—you understand, Honor? +Mind,—it must and shall be just as mother and I wish." + +"I suppose no answer can be made to 'must' and 'shall,' in such a +determined voice," said Honor, laughing. "Dear Gwen, I shall like it +very much indeed. Tell your mother so, please, with my warm thanks. I +suppose you will not mind Ruth seeing my uncle and aunt while we are +there. That could hardly be avoided." + +"No, indeed. How pleased they will be!" + +"I did think of proposing to run down to them by and by, for a week; +but I know their spare room is engaged at present." + +"And a week would not be long enough," Gwen said. "What were you +thinking about just before I came in, Honor?" + +"You, dear." + +"Not only that. I saw something else in your face." + +"Something else in connection with you. I had been thinking how +wonderfully God shapes life for us,—and how little we know ourselves +which is the best path for us to tread." + +"Do you remember, when I was going away to Riversmouth,—when you and I +were on the platform,—how it seemed to me that perhaps I was being sent +there in punishment for murmuring? And you told me I had hard thoughts +of God." + +"Many of His children have," said Honor. "Not that He does 'not' +punish. It is necessary at times. But we often misjudge our Father's +loving motives." + +"I think I know that better now. I think I have learnt more of His +lovingness while I have been away," said Gwendoline, in a low voice. + +"And perhaps you are more willing now, Gwen, than you used to be, to +let Him plan life for you." + +"Oh yes; I do hope so. And that was what you had in your mind?" Gwen +asked again, as if hardly satisfied. + +"That, partly. I was thinking, too, how wonderful it will all look to +us, by and by, when the whole story of our life lies spread before our +sight. I don't suppose we shall wish 'then' to have had one single +trouble less, or one pain less, or one arrangement different. Except, +of course, such arrangements as we have made wilfully for ourselves. +God's choice is always the very best for us." + +"I can believe that now easily enough. When I had to go away to +Riversmouth, it did seem as if there were a great deal of pain in life." + +"My dear child, there will be pain still. There must be," Honor said +tenderly. "Don't expect perfect freedom from it. After your quiet +existence at the Leys, you will be tried by the stir and the rubs of +family life. I don't see how it can be otherwise. But you must just +take them as God's will for you." + +"I know one thing," Gwen said; "I do thank God for giving me such a +friend as you are, Honor." + + +The Riversmouth scheme came off as planned by Mrs. Halcombe. Ten days +later—by which time Gwendoline had quite settled down into her old +home-nook—Ruth and Honor departed together for a month at Riversmouth. +Ruth's spirits had gradually risen at the prospect of her holiday, till +the boys declared her to be hardly recognisable. + +Gwen saw them off from the station, and at the last moment said softly, +"I have written to Mr. Fosbrook." + +"Gwen, there was no need," said Honor. "I only want sea air now." + +"Mother and I thought differently. I have asked him to count you his +patient. So you will see him," Gwen answered, smiling, as the train +moved. + +Mr. Fosbrook failed not to fulfil his charge. Letters from the +absentees spoke of one call, and then of another. + +The doctor's sister next made her appearance, and proved exceedingly +agreeable. Invitations to tea followed, and, for a busy individual, Mr. +Fosbrook seemed to be very often disengaged. + +"He is a kind man, and we like him very much," Ruth wrote. "He and +Honor get on capitally, and seem to have any amount of things to talk +about. I like Miss Fosbrook too, happily, for she generally falls to my +share. Honor is enjoying herself immensely, and so am I." + +Gwendoline did not read "between the lines," as did her more +experienced mother, and she noticed without understanding Mrs. +Halcombe's curious smile over this letter. + +The month was lengthened out to five weeks, and then the two returned, +both looking well, healthy, and sunburnt. + +"It has been a delicious time," was the verdict of both. + +Honor spent that first evening with her friends, the Halcombes; and +Gwendoline noticed her look of quiet happiness as something beyond +what was usual. Not till the close of the evening, when putting on her +bonnet in Gwendoline's room, did Honor say,— + +"Gwen, I have news for you." + +"What news?" Gwen asked. + +"Guess." + +"I can't guess. What about?" + +"I am going to live at Riversmouth altogether." + +Gwendoline looked hard at Honora. "Going to live at Riversmouth! Not +really? Have the Widringtons offered you a home?" + +"No; but somebody else has. You told me I should like Mr. Fosbrook, and +I do. He is a good man, Gwen." + +"Honor!" was all Gwendoline could say. + +"A startling idea, is it not?" said Honor, blushing. "True, however." + +"But you don't mean—'that!' Not really! Oh, I am so glad." + +"I am to be Mrs. Fosbrook by and by," said Honor softly. "Nobody knows +it yet,—not even Ruth. I wanted you to be the first to hear." + +"Oh, Honor! And you won't have to work for your living any longer." + +"Well, no,—not exactly," Honor said, half drily. Then a smile broke +over her face, and she added, "I am very happy, Gwen." + +"And I am so glad. So glad for your sake, I mean,—not for mine. And for +Mr. Fosbrook's." + +"And for yours too. What makes one of us happy makes the other happy. +My dear child, you will not lose me. We shall often arrange to meet. +Is it not strange?—He says I have never been out of his mind since the +day we met at my uncle's house, when you had saved the little boy from +drowning. And I thought he was fascinated by you." + +"By me! No, indeed!" Gwen answered. "I always liked Mr. Fosbrook, but +there never was anything of that sort,—not the least shadow of it." + +Something "of that sort" was, however, already looming in the distance, +and Honor knew it. + + +Mortimer Selwyn had to wait long and patiently for the fulfilment +of his desire. Wisely, he would not precipitate matters, or act +with undue haste. Gwendoline was now more than ever the darling of +her home-circle; also, she was much occupied, and very happy in her +occupations. The change of house from London to country made everybody +busy, and Gwen seemed to be ever the centre of all that went on. A +pretty dwelling in a healthy situation was found after much searching, +and at Michaelmas the move took place. No sooner were the Halcombes +settled in, than Gwendoline entered upon a round of parish work, under +their new and excellent vicar; and her hands were speedily full. +Mortimer found it no easy task to see anything of her. + +Then came the great event of Honor's wedding. She was married from the +Halcombes' new house, Mr. Halcombe giving her away, while Gwendoline +and Ruth were her bride's-maids. Mortimer Selwyn was present at the +wedding, and made some use of his opportunity. Gwendoline began to +show a consciousness of his attentions, and she did not display any +aversion; but that was all. + +Mortimer waited still, biding his time. He had the comfort of Mr. +and Mrs. Halcombe's full concurrence, and of his own father's hearty +approval. When at length, after many months, he ventured to speak, +Gwendoline had no difficulty in giving him an answer. Dearly as she +loved her own home, she knew then that another home might be still +dearer. + +About a year and a half after the death of Lady Halcot, Gwendoline +became Mrs. Mortimer Selwyn. Hers would be still no idle life. Mortimer +was a man of ample means, and of countless benevolent schemes. +Gwendoline delighted thenceforward to work hand in hand with him, +serving the Master whom they loved. + + + + Printed by + MORRISON & GIBB LIMITED + Edinburgh + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77349 *** diff --git a/77349-h/77349-h.htm b/77349-h/77349-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6061110 --- /dev/null +++ b/77349-h/77349-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7465 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Gwendoline, by Agnes Giberne │ Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/image001.jpg" type="image/cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size:12.0pt; + font-family:"Verdana"; +} + +p {text-indent: 2em;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} + +.w100 { + width: auto + } + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 125%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t2 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3b { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center + } + +p.t4 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center + } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.poem { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + padding: 20px 0; + text-align: left; + width: 485px; + } + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77349 ***</div> + + +<p>Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image001" style="max-width: 33.8125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image001.jpg" alt="image001"> +</figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image002" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"><a id="Image002"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image002.jpg" alt="image002"></a></figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>GWENDOLINE WAS THE FIRST TO LIFT HER HEAD.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h1>GWENDOLINE</h1> +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +BY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t1"> +AGNES GIBERNE<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +AUTHOR OF<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +"ANTHONY CRAGG'S TENANT," "STORIES OF THE ABBEY PRECINCTS,"<br> +"THROUGH THE LINN," "NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOURS."<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +<em>With Three Illustrations by J. Finnemore</em><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +LONDON<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +4 Bouverie Street and 65 St. Paul's Churchyard E.C.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +BY THE SAME AUTHOR.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image003" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image003.jpg" alt="image003"> +</figure> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +Anthony Cragg's Tenant.<br> + Illustrated. Crown 8vo,<br> + 2s. 6d.<br> + <br> +Next-Door Neighbours.<br> + Illustrated. Crown 8vo,<br> + 1s.<br> + <br> +Stories of the Abbey Precincts.<br> + Illustrated. Large crown 8vo,<br> + 2s. 6d.<br> + <br> +Through the Linn; or, Miss Temple's Wards.<br> + Illustrated. Crown 8vo,<br> + 1s. 6d.<br> + <br> +Easy Lessons on Things around us.<br> + Illustrated. Crown 8vo,<br> + 1s. 6d.<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +CONTENTS<br> +</p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image004" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image004.jpg" alt="image004"> +</figure> + +<p>CHAP.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_1">I. LONDON FOG</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_2">II. LADY HALCOT</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_3">III. GLADIOLUS COTTAGE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_4">IV. THE ROCKS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_5">V. AFTERWARDS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_6">VI. GWEN'S HOME</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_7">VII. MR. FOSBROOK'S STORY</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_8">VIII. A CALLER</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_9">IX. AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_10">X. WHAT HAD TO BE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_11">XI. AMID NEW SCENES</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_12">XII. GWEN'S POSSESSIONS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_13">XIII. TO AND ABOUT HONORA</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_14">XIV. AN ENCOUNTER</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_15">XV. CLOUDS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_16">XVI. THE CODICIL</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_17">XVII. RICH TOWARD GOD</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_18">XVIII. LONELINESS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_19">XIX. TO A POINT</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_20">XX. LINGERING ON</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_21">XXI. PARTING WORDS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_22">XXII. COMING</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_23">XXIII. LADY HALCOT'S WILL</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_24">XXIV. THE OLD HOME</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_25">XXV. WINDINGS-UP</a></p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS<br> +</p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image005" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image005.jpg" alt="image005"> +</figure> + +<p><br></p> + +<p><a href="#Image002">GWENDOLINE WAS THE FIRST TO LIFT HER HEAD <em>Frontispiece</em></a></p> + +<p><a href="#Image007">SHE LEAPED BOLDLY IN, STRIKING THE RIGHT SPOT</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Image008">LADY HALCOT'S KEEN BLACK EYES RAN SWIFTLY OVER GWENDOLINE</a></p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t2"> +<b>GWENDOLINE</b><br> +</p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image006" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image006.jpg" alt="image006"> +</figure> + +<p><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_1">CHAPTER I.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>LONDON FOG.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"YOU won't go into the city to-day of course, Stuart?"</p> + +<p>The voice betrayed anxiety. It was breakfast-time, but gaslights shone +overhead, glittering on chased silver and on broad blue borders of +delicate china. Beyond the panes of the two windows only a dense yellow +haze was visible.</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn looked up from a deluge of morning correspondence, following +his wife's glance. "It will lessen," he said tranquilly.</p> + +<p>"Just this once," she pleaded. "Such a day! Could you not be content to +spend one day at home?"</p> + +<p>"How about appointments, my love?"</p> + +<p>"I daresay you have none of any importance."</p> + +<p>"Gwendoline Halcombe, at twelve,—for instance."</p> + +<p>"The pretty girl that we met in the Academy with her father? But that +need not take you out. You don't seriously suppose any lady would keep +an appointment in this fog."</p> + +<p>The lawyer's grey eyes laughed pleasantly beneath their broad brows. He +was unlawyer-like in aspect, according to conventional notions, being +strong and upright in build, with ruddy colouring and particularly +straightforward expression.</p> + +<p>"I don't for a moment suppose so of 'any' lady," he said. "I suppose it +to be not improbable in the case of Miss Halcombe."</p> + +<p>"I do not like young women to be too independent,—very young and pretty +ones especially."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Miss Halcombe does not like it either. Independence becomes a +matter of necessity in certain instances,—with the eldest of ten, for +example."</p> + +<p>"Is she that?"</p> + +<p>"Ten is the number, I believe—ranging from nineteen to three in age."</p> + +<p>"What made her fix on to-day?"</p> + +<p>"She wrote and asked if she might have a few words with me. I named the +day and hour."</p> + +<p>"Why not telegraph to put her off?"</p> + +<p>"That is far from being my only engagement. Also, I could not reach +her. She will be at her painting in the Academy or Kensington, I don't +know which."</p> + +<p>"Painting! Yes, you promised to take me some day to see her drawings. +She is clever, is she not?"</p> + +<p>The lawyer was becoming absorbed in another letter. His wife surveyed +the window afresh, trying to glean encouragement thence. Failing to do +so, the conclusion at which she arrived was uttered aloud, with a sigh +of despair.</p> + +<p>"It is perfectly awful."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" said Mr. Selwyn.</p> + +<p>"The fog! It is awful, Stuart."</p> + +<p>"It is rather thick, but I have seen worse," mildly admitted Mr. Selwyn.</p> + +<p>"If this is only 'rather,' I don't know what 'very' thick may be. You +will never get back from the city alive."</p> + +<p>"That will scarcely be the fate of every city man. I hope I shall be +among the survivors."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Stuart, don't joke about it. Suppose something really did happen."</p> + +<p>She had been married only nine months, and was as yet unaccustomed to +the vicissitudes of the London atmosphere, after twenty-six years in +the clear air of a country village. There was something country-like +still about her soft plumpness and rosy cheeks. She was rather a pretty +little woman, over twenty years her husband's junior. Mr. Selwyn had +been married once before for a brief space, and had spent a long +widowhood before finding a second wife to his mind. He was still in the +prime of life, a lawyer in good practice, a man of considerable private +means, and a general favourite, greatly esteemed by all who knew him +for his unswerving rectitude and for his kindliness of heart. He had +one son, Mortimer by name, four or five and twenty in age.</p> + +<p>"Never expect evils, Isobel. I am an old hand at fogs. But, as you say, +no need to jest. I have a note from Miss Withers. Lady Halcot desires +an interview."</p> + +<p>"Halcot! Isn't she the old lady at Riversmouth, who gives you so much +trouble?"</p> + +<p>"I should not like that description to reach Lady Halcot."</p> + +<p>"Not very likely. I don't know any one belonging to her. And Miss +Withers is the lady-companion, is she not? I remember. What do they +want you to do?"</p> + +<p>"I shall have to run down to Riversmouth to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"So soon?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Halcot expects me to-day. Impossible, unfortunately."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I would rather have you go into the country than into the +city. There would be some likelihood of your leaving this horrible fog +behind you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I am tied to city work to-day,—no help for it. I think the +fog shows signs of lifting."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could see them," sighed his wife.</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn went to his office as usual, only not so quickly as usual, +for traffic was under serious difficulties, and the promised "lifting" +of the fog took place but slowly. If other people kept to their +appointments that day, however, Gwendoline Halcombe unexpectedly failed +in hers.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Riversmouth was a seaside place within tolerably easy distance of +London, but it was by no means a seaside place of the fashionable +description. No railway station existed within four miles of the +village—called flatteringly by some of its inhabitants a "town." No +trim parade was laid down above or below the beetling low cliffs which +overhung the shingly beach, parted by only one sharp and narrow cut, +through which trickled a tiny brooklet beside a rough pathway. Houses +stood irregularly above, tier above tier, and two or three of the +oldest buildings jutted almost over the edges of the cliffs.</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot, the aged owner of the land in and about Riversmouth, +strenuously resisted every attempt at improvement or "innovation;" her +one aim being to keep the place precisely in the same condition as she +had known it sixty or seventy years earlier. The traditions of her +family sternly prescribed "selectness," forbade admission of strangers, +discouraged popularity, abhorred excursionists, fought against social +and religious changes of any kind or description. The old lady strove +to carry out these traditions to the letter, and where she failed, she +lamented sorely.</p> + +<p>That the place had so far increased as to possess two churches in lieu +of one was a distress to her, and no one yet ventured to suggest in her +presence the growing need for a third. She was regularly to be seen +each Sunday, once, if not twice, in the cushioned square pew of the +parish church, where her ancestors had sat from time immemorial; but +she had little to say to the Riversmouth clergy. The Rev. Charles Jay, +of the chapel of ease, she had always disliked and ignored, simply from +the fact that he belonged to a building the very existence of which she +deprecated. The Rev. William Rossiter, of the parish church, appointed +to it by herself some twelve years earlier, had long been honoured with +her friendship and confidence.</p> + +<p>But three or four years ago a change had crept quietly over the dream +of peaceful parish slumbrousness, wherein the old lady delighted. +Nobody knew exactly when or how it began. Only, somehow, Mr. Rossiter's +placid moral essays grew into earnest expositions of Bible truth and +vigorous appeals to his congregation to repent and be saved; also +an active young curate came upon the scene, and Bible-classes were +started, and cottage-lectures sprang into being.</p> + +<p>"Such things as were never even mentioned in my grandfather's days," +Lady Halcot said in her disgust.</p> + +<p>She remonstrated with Mr. Rossiter, but was met by a gentle resistance, +on which she had not calculated. Mr. Rossiter had reached that point +where the question becomes one of obedience to God rather than man. He +would have spoken of a change in himself, and in his views of work to +be done for his Lord and Master, but she would not listen. If he did +not choose to conform to her will, she had nothing more to say to the +matter—or to him. Mr. Rossiter was permitted only to bow and withdraw, +and from that day he was admitted no more at the Leys. He went quietly +on with what he believed to be his duty, scattering the Word of Life to +right and left, as he found opportunity, and meeting with much happy +encouragement at times. But he saw no more of Lady Halcot, except in +her pew and her pony-carriage. She vouchsafed him occasionally an icy +bow in passing; and she studiously placed every possible obstacle in +the way of his labours. It never occurred to her that she was thus +actually hindering work for God. The idea might have startled her, had +she looked it in the face.</p> + +<p>No London fog had found its way to Riversmouth next day, when Mr. +Selwyn stood upon the eastern cliff, enjoying the strong sea-breeze. He +unbuttoned his greatcoat, threw back his shoulders, and drank in large +gulps of salt air, with a Londoner's appreciation of the same. Waves +below were tumbling in, one upon another, with reckless haste, as the +breeze helped onward the rapid spring-tide. There was not a gale, but +the wind possessed sufficient force to whisk off the white wave-crests, +scattering them in small spray around, and to wail weirdly among roofs +and chimney-pots. Rock-boulders lay upon the beach, where at intervals +in the past they had fallen from the cliffs above, and amongst them the +waves splashed roughly, swirling round, and drawing back, and leaving +trails of white foam to die upon the stones.</p> + +<p>A zig-zag flight of narrow steps, guarded by a stout hand-rail, led +down the face of the cliff. Mr. Selwyn, standing at the top, had made +up his mind not to descend, when his eye was caught by a figure below. +"If it is not!" he ejaculated.</p> + +<p>He paused for another look. The figure was that of a girl, standing +upon a low boulder near the margin of the water. Her ungloved hands +were clasped lightly together, and a grey closely-fitting ulster, +swaying in the breeze, encased the slim figure from head to foot. The +neat little feet showed below, and the little head wore a cap of the +same material as the ulster, from beneath which peeped short curly +brown hair.</p> + +<p>"What is she after here?" asked Mr. Selwyn half-aloud.</p> + +<p>He made his way down the steps with no further hesitation, strode over +the crunching shingles, and drew near. She glanced round at the sound +of footsteps, and turned to meet him with a gesture of surprise.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Selwyn!"</p> + +<p>It was a lovely face, oval and delicate, with large brown eyes like +those of a deer, liquid and wistful. The boyish shortness of the hair, +and the severe simplicity of the grey suit, rather enhanced than +detracted from the general effect.</p> + +<p>"You here!" the lawyer said, in accents of unmitigated astonishment.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't help it. I had the chance, and—I came. Was it wrong?"</p> + +<p>"What chance?"</p> + +<p>"Honora Dewhurst offered to bring me for two nights. It is just a +reviving breath. We work together at our painting, and she is my +friend. Mother said I ought to use the opportunity, but I could not +feel sure about the 'ought.' Still—a third-class return doesn't come to +so very much."</p> + +<p>"No, no," Mr. Selwyn assented.</p> + +<p>"Of course we can't really afford it," she remarked ingenuously. +"But then it is a question what one ever can afford. There is always +something else wanted which seems just as needful. If it comes to a +question of necessaries, I suppose one could 'do' in a hovel, with +dry bread and water. But, on the other hand, I can't afford another +illness, and I have felt like that lately."</p> + +<p>"Time you had a change, then. How has the work gone on?"</p> + +<p>"Which work? The 'stitch, stitch' never does go well. Mother and Ruth +have done my share as well as their own the last week, for I just +'couldn't.' And then my painting began to fail, and life was looking +awry, and I began to see it was time for a change, as you say; yet I +could not feel sure. Perhaps I ought to have fought on without it. How +is one to know which is the right thing to do, Mr. Selwyn?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him questioningly.</p> + +<p>"Generally by the exercise of common sense," he said.</p> + +<p>"Is that always enough? Common sense sometimes points in two directions +equally. Mother would tell me to pray to be shown the right way."</p> + +<p>He did not exactly smile. His was not a cynical face by any means; but +his expression for a moment was curious.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's brown eyes had a sudden flash in them.</p> + +<p>"And mother is right," she said. "For what we want to do is God's +will—of course; and how are we to know what His will is, unless +He shows us? So it 'is' the exercise of common sense to ask Him!" +Gwendoline's bright eyes met Mr. Selwyn's steadily again, seeking to +discover whether he agreed.</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn contrived to banish from his face any manner of decisive +expression. He did not wish to enter into a discussion upon this +question. "So you settled to come," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, they all said I ought. And, besides, I had another reason—" She +stopped, and coloured brilliantly.</p> + +<p>"Your journey prevented your coming to me yesterday, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"No; we did not start till the afternoon. I was near your office at +twelve; but I changed my mind."</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn showed surprise.</p> + +<p>"I changed my mind," she repeated, looking down. "It was only something +I wanted to consult you about, and just at last I decided not to ask +you. I thought you would discourage me, and I wanted to be free."</p> + +<p>"You would rather not tell me what the 'thing' is?"</p> + +<p>"I'll think about it. Not now, please," she said sedately. Then, with a +sudden change of manner, turning towards the sea, "Oh, that wave!"</p> + +<p>She wrung her hands with delight, as a massive billow rolled in upon +its predecessor, rising in a broad green wall of water, and curling +over to fall with booming crash and hissing swirl.</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn uttered a word of warning and stepped back.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline did not move, and the foam rushed in a flood round her feet +and ankles. She said only, "There!"</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_2">CHAPTER II.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>LADY HALCOT.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"WHAT are you going to do now?"</p> + +<p>"I have only this pair of boots with me. It does not matter. Nobody +ever takes cold with salt water."</p> + +<p>"You have shoes, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I couldn't stay indoors to-day."</p> + +<p>"Where does your friend live?"</p> + +<p>"Honora? She does not live here at all. We are visiting her uncle and +aunt—dear kind little old people, Mr. Selwyn, but not the very least +bit in any august circle of 'society.' It is a mite of a house, some +way from the beach. Honor is coming to me presently. I could not bear +to lose a moment of the sea."</p> + +<p>"But you will go back now, and look to your wet boots," he said, with +polite persuasiveness.</p> + +<p>She gave an impatient gasp, then said, "If I 'must—'" and turned to +spring lightly up the steps.</p> + +<p>At the top they paused. "I wish I could go farther with you," Mr. +Selwyn said. "But I am due at the Leys."</p> + +<p>"I wondered what you were here for. Oh, what a delicious little +carriage!"</p> + +<p>The carriage, low and open, drawn by two exuberant ponies, went past +rapidly. An old lady sat beside the drab-liveried young driver,—small +and shrunken in figure, muffled well in ermine wraps, with thin snowy +hair, bushy grey eyebrows, and two bright black eyes, which scanned Mr. +Selwyn and his companion sharply.</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn lifted his hat with an air of profound politeness, and the +old lady's head made a slight movement in acknowledgment of the same.</p> + +<p>"Who is that?" asked the girl.</p> + +<p>"Lady Halcot."</p> + +<p>"It is! Mother wondered if I should see her. She looks—severe."</p> + +<p>"She is severe."</p> + +<p>"She has a splendid Roman nose,—if only she were a taller woman to +match it."</p> + +<p>"When you are a famous artist, you may offer to take her likeness."</p> + +<p>"Ah,—when!" she said, sighing deeply. "The poor old lady will scarcely +live so long. But I really am taking a likeness now—of Mrs. Hobbs, our +grocer's wife. She hasn't exactly classical features, and she wears an +astonishing cap. I am to have a guinea for it, however." Gwendoline +looked up laughingly.</p> + +<p>"Most of us have to begin on the lowest rung of the ladder," said Mr. +Selwyn, liking her courage.</p> + +<p>"I think I am glad to have seen Lady Halcot," she said abruptly. "I +understand better now."</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn looked for more.</p> + +<p>"About the state of things. You know I am a believer in physiognomy, +though not always in my own reading of it. But Lady Halcot has a face +easy to make out. If she made up her mind to any one course of action, +she would not soon swerve from it."</p> + +<p>"Your knowledge of the past gives you fair reason for supposing so."</p> + +<p>"I was not sure till I saw her face. But I am now. I am afraid I should +meet with a cold reception, if I ventured to call on her."</p> + +<p>"I fear so, indeed. I could not recommend the step."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," said Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>He shook hands and passed on.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline stood still, sighing deeply once more.</p> + +<p>"It will not do," she said. "No, it will not do. I have been indulging +in day-dreams. I am glad I did not mention my idea to any one. Things +looked different from a distance, but now I am here, I see it will not +do! I just 'couldn't' take any such step. Mother says one's way always +becomes clear, if one prays and waits. I suppose this is the becoming +clear of my way. It isn't what I wished and dreamed. But to go to the +Leys uninvited!—Oh, no! What was I about, to think of such a thing? +And yet—oh, mother, if I could but bring you ease somehow—anyhow! What +could I not bear for your sake, if only it were God's will!"</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Half an hour later, Lady Halcot, having reached home, was seated in her +favourite arm-chair,—a large chair for so small a woman. The greater +portion of her time was spent in this plainly furnished morning-room +or boudoir, more correctly a study, since it contained two handsome +writing-tables, besides a davenport, and was almost lined with books. +The study proper, usually called "the library," was seldom used by her.</p> + +<p>Divested of fur wraps, Lady Halcot might be found slightly deformed as +well as small. One shoulder was a little raised, and the shape of her +hands was singular, the knuckles being exaggerated in size. She sat +upright, making no use of her chair-back. The davenport, close beside +her, was covered with correspondence; and one of the said bony hands +wielded a pen rapidly, filling page after page with bold handwriting.</p> + +<p>Opposite the old lady, at the largest writing-table, sat a light-haired +young man, of depressed look and generally timid aspect.</p> + +<p>"You may address these for me," Lady Halcot said suddenly, tossing some +note-sheets towards him.</p> + +<p>The young man's depressed look deepened into positive unhappiness. He +took the letters slowly, examining one after another in a hesitating +manner.</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot surveyed him with her bright cynical eyes, and finally +broke into a—"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I—I—am not quite sure—that is to say—I—"</p> + +<p>"Ring the bell," said Lady Halcot impatiently.</p> + +<p>The young man obeyed with a nervous start of response, and a +man-servant appeared.</p> + +<p>"Call Miss Withers."</p> + +<p>The servant disappeared, and presently came back with a deprecating +air. Miss Withers was out, and had not yet returned.</p> + +<p>"Where is she gone?"</p> + +<p>The man-servant was not aware. Lady Halcot looked at the young man for +information, and with a second start, he immediately turned over a +small inkstand, deluging two of the notes. He stared at the results of +his own awkwardness in blank despair.</p> + +<p>"That will do for to-day," Lady Halcot remarked frigidly. "Give those +papers to me, Bryce. Take care, here is a sheet of blotting-paper. I +shall not require any further assistance this morning, Mr. Withers. You +had better remove the cloth, Bryce, immediately, or the table will be +ruined. Dear me, it is one o'clock. Mr. Selwyn will be here soon."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Selwyn has just arrived, your ladyship," Bryce said, as he +gathered up the ink-bedewed table-cloth.</p> + +<p>"Bring him here to me, at once. You may go, Mr. Withers," for the young +man seemed at a loss what to do. "Cannot you understand? I wish to see +Mr. Selwyn alone."</p> + +<p>Mr. Withers in alarm bowed, and precipitately retreated. Outside the +room, his face assumed a boyish expression of relief, and he sped at +a headlong pace along the broad corridor. Passing below the draped +curtains which divided it from the entrance hall, he nearly ran down +a slim and quiet lady, over thirty, perhaps even over thirty-five, in +age, dressed with unexceptionable neatness, having calm light blue eyes +and smooth washed-out fair hair.</p> + +<p>"Really, Conrad!" she said.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, aunt—didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sure I'm very +sorry," said the dismayed Conrad, staggering back from the collision.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"I turned over an inkstand, and Lady Halcot ordered me off."</p> + +<p>"You never get through a day without a blunder of some sort," the lady +said in hushed tones, moving with him towards the ponderous front door. +"Lady Halcot will grow tired of it soon, and dismiss you altogether."</p> + +<p>Mr. Withers looked as if a worse event might happen, in his own +opinion, than such dismissal.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is all very well," she said. "But think what the +disappointment would be to me—and to your sisters. Remember, Conrad, +you have had difficulty enough before this in finding any work for +which you were fitted."</p> + +<p>"I don't really think I am fitted for this," said disconsolate Conrad.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are, quite sufficiently, if you would determine to do your +best. You are not brilliant, but you have sense enough for all that +Lady Halcot requires," she said, lowering her voice to almost a +whisper. "What you have to do is to make yourself 'necessary' to her, +Conrad. You understand? Make yourself necessary in her every-day life. +You should be incessantly on the watch to forestall her slightest wish; +yet you must take care never to seem obtrusive. It is far more a matter +of tact and attention than of cleverness. If you let this opportunity +slip, you will never in life have such another."</p> + +<p>Conrad Withers' expression was not responsive, but he said meekly, +"I'll try, aunt; I'm sure I mean to do my best." Whereupon Miss Withers +released him.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_3">CHAPTER III.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>GLADIOLUS COTTAGE.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>MR. SELWYN went through a certain stage of perplexity in Lady Halcot's +presence, as to the immediate cause of his summons to Riversmouth. +Usually her plan was to plunge headlong into business, allowing scant +space for polite greetings beforehand. Now, for once, she seemed +disinclined to speak plainly, and showed an unwonted disposition to +"beat about the bush." Some minor questions were brought up, relative +to the management of her property, but these were questions which might +have been quite as easily discussed by post. Mr. Selwyn was perfectly +well aware that they had not yet come to the point. He began to doubt +whether after all he would get away by the early afternoon train, which +he had set down in his mental plan.</p> + +<p>"You have Miss Withers still with you," he remarked, when a pause +occurred in the conversation.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have," responded Lady Halcot. "With me, and likely to remain. +She is an invaluable person. I can rely entirely upon her memory, and +my own plays me false occasionally. I suppose I must expect as much at +my age."</p> + +<p>"You are to be congratulated, Lady Halcot, if it never played you false +until now."</p> + +<p>"I do not say that, but my memory has been remarkably good. Time +was when I could read a stanza once through which I had never seen +before,—not a short one, either,—and repeat it afterwards without a +mistake. I cannot do so now."</p> + +<p>"And Miss Withers' memory serves to fill up gaps?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely so." She looked at him keenly. "You do not like Miss +Withers."</p> + +<p>The lawyer made a slight deprecating bow. "Pardon me! Miss Withers and +I can boast but the barest possible e acquaintance with one another. +You appear to find her well suited to her post."</p> + +<p>"She is exactly that—quiet and ladylike, always helpful, and never in +the way. I wish Mr. Withers were her equal."</p> + +<p>"Your secretary?"</p> + +<p>"He calls himself so. I allow him to hinder me in my work for two or +three hours every day, by way of giving satisfaction to Miss Withers. +She foretells that the hindering is soon to develop into helping. I +have my doubts, but I am willing to give him a fair trial."</p> + +<p>"Miss Withers is a near relative of Mr. Withers?" the lawyer said +inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"His aunt. He has two sisters, I believe, but no parents living. +Miss Withers seems to have acted a motherly part to the three. Very +praiseworthy, of course. Mr. Selwyn—"</p> + +<p>Now it was coming! The lawyer looked expectant.</p> + +<p>"Who was that charming girl upon the cliff yesterday—speaking to you? I +was not aware that you had friends in the place."</p> + +<p>"She 'is' a charming girl—a London acquaintance, down here for two +days. We met accidentally on the shore," Mr. Selwyn said slowly, his +mind taking a rapid survey of the situation.</p> + +<p>"I was struck with her appearance. A clever girl, I should imagine."</p> + +<p>"Yes—in many respects, no doubt, and she certainly has marked artistic +talent."</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot's withered face brightened with a look of interest. +"Talent?" she repeated. "Not genius?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I should rather have said genius,—but really I do not know. I +imagine that she has power to originate, though at present she chiefly +copies. It is uphill work, and she is the eldest of a large family."</p> + +<p>"What is her father?"</p> + +<p>"A clerk, Lady Halcot."</p> + +<p>"In your office?"</p> + +<p>"No,—in a house of business. I have only seen him once. He is much +occupied, and has very poor health. I do not know what would become of +them all if he broke down."</p> + +<p>"Then they are poor. What is their name?"</p> + +<p>"They are poor unquestionably. If this young lady succeeds by and by—"</p> + +<p>"As an artist!" Lady Halcot shook her head. "How old is the girl?"</p> + +<p>"Not twenty yet, I believe."</p> + +<p>"She may get butter to her bread by picture-making ten years hence,—and +possibly a competence twenty years later. That is all you can hope from +even first-rate talent. Possibly a competence."</p> + +<p>"Some do better."</p> + +<p>"Some have genius. Has she it, or not? That is the question. You do +not know,—no, but I could soon judge. How long does she remain? Only +till the day after to-morrow? And of course she has no pictures here. +I might be able to give her a helping hand, if there is genuine power. +I never lend my aid to passing off mediocrity for genius. We must +consider what to do. Meanwhile,—if you think it would be acceptable,—I +have no objection to sending a five-pound note to the parents."</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn decided on his line of action. "I think, your ladyship, that +it would unquestionably be acceptable if sent direct from yourself, +with a few kind words accompanying."</p> + +<p>"Very well. The name and address, if you please."</p> + +<p>She passed a slip of paper and a pen. Mr. Selwyn wrote slowly and +handed it back.</p> + +<p>"James Halcombe, Esq."</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot read so far aloud, stopped, and lifted her black eyes to +Mr. Selwyn's face. Inwardly he was just a little nervous. Gwendoline +Halcombe interested him, and he was anxious to do his best for her; but +naturally he did not wish to offend his wealthy client.</p> + +<p>"James Halcombe," repeated Lady Halcot.</p> + +<p>"Gwendoline Halcombe's mother, and James Halcombe's wife, 'was' Eleanor +Halcot."</p> + +<p>The old lady's start was irrepressible, and her hand shook, but she +said in a stern and unfaltering voice, "Then Eleanor Halcombe is dead?"</p> + +<p>"No—she is living. I meant 'was' only in the sense of before her +marriage."</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot folded the paper, and slipped it into a drawer, with hands +that trembled still. She was evidently vexed with herself for the +display of weakness.</p> + +<p>"You may send the five-pound note for me, if you choose," she said. +"But it must be a strictly anonymous gift. I was not aware that you +knew these people, Mr. Selwyn."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Halcombe called on me once to consult me upon a difficulty, and +his daughter has been two or three times since. Also, I have met her in +the Royal Academy and elsewhere. One is naturally drawn to a struggling +young artist."</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot offered no reply. The luncheon-bell rang, and she rose +to lead the way out of the room. The express object of Mr. Selwyn's +journey had not yet been broached.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Gwendoline had truly described Gladiolus Cottage as "a mite of a +house." It had one tiny parlour in front with a single window, and a +tinier kitchen on the same level behind, and two bedrooms above, and +two sloping-roofed garrets at the top, one of which was the servant's +domicile, and the other a receptacle for lumber. Of the two best +bedrooms, one was tenanted by Mr. and Mrs. Widrington; the other was +reserved for guests.</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Widrington had no children of their own. One little +baby had come and had vanished, in days long gone by, leaving tender +memories behind it. Mr. Widrington, after fifty or sixty years of +steady work, had made his little competence, and had retired into an +easy life, his chief trouble thenceforward being to know what to do +with himself. He had many a longing for his old city home and old +interests. The sleepy quiet of Riversmouth palled upon him, and the +rumble of carts and omnibuses would have been as music to his city-bred +ears. But the step, once taken, could not easily be reversed, even so +far as a home was concerned, and could not be reversed at all so far as +business was concerned.</p> + +<p>Thus, Mr. Widrington found himself in for the somewhat tiresome leisure +of a healthy and objectless old age. Literally and actually objectless. +His leading aim through long years past had been to make enough money +for present needs, and to secure a sufficiency for comfort in declining +years. He had made enough; he had secured the sufficiency; and +declining years were coming upon him gently. What next?</p> + +<p>That was the question. Mr. Widrington had no "next." He had attained +to his life-goal, and no loftier goal lay beyond. He was conscious of +this, and he was dissatisfied in the consciousness. Hitherto a pleasant +prospect had always lain ahead, in the shape of this same "comfortable +old age," spurring him on to exertion. He had lost the spur now, and +he missed the stimulus. The happiest old age cannot last for ever, and +Mr. Widrington began to dislike the thought of being an "old man," to +object to the term being used in respect of himself.</p> + +<p>For there lay now no pleasant prospect ahead. Mr. Widrington was not +exactly troubled by fears as to his future. He counted himself to have +done his duty, on the whole, towards himself, towards his family, +towards his neighbours; and—towards God? Mr. Widrington did not care +to look very closely into that last question, but he hoped things were +all right, and he hoped to get to heaven somehow, a vague and shadowy +heaven, not particularly attractive to his imagination, only, of +course, desirable.</p> + +<p>Thus, Mr. Widrington's hopes, as well as his heaven, were vague. He had +also a vague knowledge of his Bible, which he seldom read, and a vague +belief that Christ had died for men generally. But in all this he found +no real comfort for the future or joy for the present. How should he? +So Mr. Widrington, though to superficial observers seemingly a chatty +and contented old man, was in fact by no means a happy one.</p> + +<p>The change of life to Mrs. Widrington was less severe. A stout little +old lady, good-humoured and kind, often ailing as to health, but always +even in spirits, she could be well satisfied with the mild excitements +incidental to "pottering" about the house all the morning, taking a +turn out of doors in the afternoon, knitting and sleeping through the +evening. The comforts of husband and household had been her aim during +nearly half a century, and that aim was before her still. She had not +even a wish for anything beyond this tame level of her existence.</p> + +<p>A visit from Honora Dewhurst was a great event in their lives, and the +interest of the event was doubled by the presence of Honora's friend, +Gwendoline Halcombe.</p> + +<p>"She 'is' a pretty girl, and there's no denying it," Mr. Widrington +said emphatically, as he and his wife awaited the return of the two +walkers to early tea; a primitive tea of bread and butter and cake, +shrimps, and water-cresses. "She's a downright pretty girl, and +uncommon nice too. Now there's Honor, as good and nice a girl as can +be, and clever too, there's no denying, for her pictures are amazing +good. But nobody ever called Honor pretty. The goodness is all of an +inside sort, and not of an outside—though it shows through, and no +mistake. But this young thing has got both, and there's no doubt she's +greatly favoured. For a pleasant outside is by no means a thing to be +despised."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if they don't mean to come back soon. The tea will spoil," +rather irrelevantly observed Mrs. Widrington, who, dressed in her best +black silk, was seated in her easy-chair, with the invariable knitting +in her plump round hands, and the invariable content on her plump round +face. Mrs. Widrington was better born than her husband, and forty-five +years earlier her family had counted the marriage a serious downward +step for her. Perhaps for a while she had felt it so herself. People +grow used to new levels, however, and Mrs. Widrington was most happily +accustomed to the platform upon which she stood. She looked up to +her husband with dutiful wife-like submission; and if in particular +instances she usually counted her own judgment superior to his, this +was not at all because of any original difference in social position, +but simply because she was a woman, and he was, as she would have said, +"only a man."</p> + +<p>"There they come,—just in time," Mr. Widrington said, gently striking +his hands together, as he stood at the window. "Just you look, wifie; +now don't you call that a pretty picture?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Widrington moved to his side obediently. "But it's a dreadful +mess," she said.</p> + +<p>The two girls were approaching at a quick pace, laden with spoils from +the seashore. Honora Dewhurst, a strongly-built and upright person, +four or five years Gwendoline's senior, walked steadily as well as +swiftly, looking little to right or left. But Gwendoline, dressed still +in her severe grey suit, seemed to be rippling over with frolicsome +enjoyment, and the sound of her clear laugh came through the open +window, and was matched by the half-dancing step. Honora's hands were +full of stones and shells, and Gwendoline bore a big pile of sea-weeds. +One long ribbon spray had been caught by the breeze and twisted round +her head, and the brilliant cheeks and merry eyes looked out from an +unwonted surrounding.</p> + +<p>"She's better for the change already," Mr. Widrington said, and he +opened the door.</p> + +<p>"We are not fit for the drawing-room," exclaimed Gwendoline. "Our +boots, Honora!"</p> + +<p>"Now you are going to have some tea before ever you take one step +up-stairs," said Mr. Widrington decisively, avoiding his wife's eyes, +lest he should read disapproval. "Just you throw all that rubbish down +in the passage, and take off your cloaks."</p> + +<p>Neither would consent to this manner of proceeding. Possibly they +saw the disapproval in another quarter, of which he preferred to be +ignorant. They vanished up-stairs, and speedily reappeared, Gwendoline +still in a glow of enjoyment, Honora quiet and staid, with her plain +strong face, and broad forehead.</p> + +<p>"And you like the sea, my dear, eh?" Mr. Widrington said to Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"It is lovely, past words," she said. "If I could just live within +sight and hearing of it, I think I should want nothing else in life."</p> + +<p>"It's lively, there's no doubt," said Mr. Widrington. "But it isn't a +cheerful sort of liveliness, by any manner of means. Now you'll think +me odd, maybe, but I'd a deal rather have a 'bus going past the door +every five minutes, than I'd look on the finest sea that ever was,—a +deal rather."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline refrained from remark.</p> + +<p>"Riversmouth is a pretty little place, and it has got capabilities. +Take some cresses? Yes, do, Miss Halcombe, and lay your butter on +thick, and have a little jam a-top; don't you stint yourself. Yes, +Riversmouth's a pretty place. But, dear me, as long as that poor old +lady is alive, the village will never grow to what it should be. Why, +it might become a first-rate watering-place of the fashionable sort in +no time; just lay down a double line of rail, and put up a station, and +have a good band and an excursion train or two in the week. Now that +'would' be lively-like."</p> + +<p>The two girls exchanged amused glances. Honora Dewhurst knew of the +relationship between Gwendoline and Lady Halcot, though the Widringtons +did not.</p> + +<p>"My dear, you needn't suppose anything of that sort is likely to be," +Mrs. Widrington said. "There are ever so many things wanted in the +town, and nobody dares name them to Lady Halcot. She has everything her +own way, and not a man ventures to cross her will. She's regular queen +here, and that's what it is."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid some of her subjects are in a rebellious state of mind," +said Honora. "But as for excursionists, the longer the place can escape +that infliction the better. Here comes a visitor to disturb our meal."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Selwyn!" exclaimed Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"A friend of yours, Miss Halcombe?" asked Mr. Widrington.</p> + +<p>"Yes—at least, I know him. He is a friend really. He is down from +London for a few hours,—Lady Halcot's lawyer."</p> + +<p>"My dear, you take an old man's advice, and you beware of lawyers," +whispered Mr. Widrington very audibly, as the door-handle turned. "You +take my advice, and be warned. There's always a six-and-eightpenny +charge behind, sure as he takes a step in your behalf. And I may say +it, if anybody may, for I know it to my—"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sellon," announced the bewildered maid-servant, unused to so much +company.</p> + +<p>And Mr. Selwyn entered, bowing and apologizing for the interruption, +but might he have a few words with Miss Halcombe?</p> + +<p>"To be sure, to be sure, as many as ever you please, sir," Mr. +Widrington said eagerly, forgetting that he addressed a lawyer, and +delighted with a fresh addition to the party. "But we are having our +tea, and tea is a beverage that doesn't improve by keeping beyond a +certain stage,—not beyond a certain stage, sir,—and these young ladies +are hungry. So you just sit down, and take a cup of tea with us, and +then we'll all clear out—eh, wifie?—and leave you two in undisputed +possession of the parlour."</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn was slightly troubled. "The parlour" was evidently the only +parlour, and he did not relish the idea of "turning out" its lawful +inmates, though he would much have preferred a few words alone with +Gwendoline. He sat down, however, and consented to take a cup of tea, +declining substantials. "I dine at half-past seven," he said.</p> + +<p>"You will hardly reach home in time for your dinner," suggested +Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"Lady Halcot has persuaded me to remain over the night. I must leave by +the 7.20 train in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Selwyn will be disappointed."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid so. I have just sent her a telegram."</p> + +<p>After a few minutes of general conversation, he turned again to +Gwendoline, having decided to forego the private conversation. "I bring +you an invitation, Miss Halcombe. Could you dine at Lady Halcot's this +evening?"</p> + +<p>"This evening!" The proposal seemed to take away her breath, and she +turned pale.</p> + +<p>"You would dislike it?" asked Mr. Selwyn, while Honora watched her +gravely, and the old people were flustered at the magnitude of the +proposal.</p> + +<p>"No—oh, no!—not at all. I am only—surprised," said Gwendoline, hardly +able to speak. She sat quite still for two seconds, putting a strong +restraint upon herself. "I will do exactly what you advise."</p> + +<p>"I should recommend you to accept the invitation."</p> + +<p>"To-night, at half-past seven?"</p> + +<p>"Punctually. Lady Halcot never waits. I think you should arrive ten +minutes earlier."</p> + +<p>"But I have no dress, except this."</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn surveyed the dark tweed, neatly fitting, but almost devoid +of ornament. Heavy trimmings were just then in vogue, and he was dimly +conscious of something unusual.</p> + +<p>"It must do, of course," he said. "I suggested that matters might be +so, and Lady Halcot said you could come as you were."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline sat lost in thought, and Mr. Selwyn rose, with the air of a +man who has discharged himself of his office.</p> + +<p>"Gwen, you had better open the front door for your friend," suggested +Honora, guessing that the two might wish for a few more words; and she +kept her uncle back, and shut the parlour door.</p> + +<p>"What does this mean?" asked Gwendoline, laying her hand on the slab, +for she was positively trembling.</p> + +<p>"It means simply that Lady Halcot desires to use this opportunity to +form your acquaintance, Miss Halcombe."</p> + +<p>"How does she know that I am here?"</p> + +<p>"She saw you with me on the cliff this morning, and has since inquired +your name."</p> + +<p>"Strange," murmured Gwendoline. "I had a feeling when I came that I +might perhaps see her—might perhaps say a word about—"</p> + +<p>"A word about what, if I may ask?"</p> + +<p>"My mother, and our circumstances. But I found that it would be +impossible."</p> + +<p>"I think you would be wise to count it impossible still," Mr. Selwyn +said with gravity.</p> + +<p>"But if an opening came—"</p> + +<p>"I think you will, in any case, be wise to avoid a single word which +might leave an impression that you were seeking anything from her. +Pardon my frankness," he said, as the colour rushed again into her +face. "I understand the state of affairs, and your true motive; but she +would not."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I will take care," said Gwendoline in a low voice. "I don't +suppose I should have dared, after all. I am frightened of Lady Halcot."</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid to-night," he said, shaking hands. "She is interested +in art, so you will have one subject in common. The carriage will bring +you home at half-past nine. Lady Halcot keeps early hours—excusable at +seventy-five. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>"One word," said Gwendoline hurriedly. "Mr. Selwyn, do you suppose she +means anything by this?—Do you think it hopeful?—Do you think we may +count—for the future—"</p> + +<p>"No," Mr. Selwyn said at once. "I should be wrong to encourage hopes. +What may come of it by and by no one can predict. At present I see no +signs whatever of any softening towards your family, though she is +disposed to feel some interest in yourself personally."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline sighed. "Thank you—good-bye," she said; and she went back to +the parlour.</p> + +<p>"Honor, would it be very rude of me to run away to the shore for half +an hour? I don't want to be nervous and shy at dinner, and a look at +the sea would give me back my balance." Gwendoline spoke beseechingly.</p> + +<p>"You silly child," Honor said, smiling. "Yes, go, of course; only come +back in good time. I must find some lace for your throat and wrists."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say you are a friend of Lady Halcot?" the old people +chimed in, with accents of respect and amazement. "Why, you are quite a +grand young person, my dear. Fancy never saying a word about it!"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline laughed and vanished. "Her mother is Lady Halcot's cousin," +Honora said quietly,—"first cousin once removed, I believe. But it had +better not be talked about in Riversmouth, please, uncle. Lady Halcot +has had nothing to say to Gwen's mother since her marriage with Mr. +Halcombe. I don't know who was most in the right or in the wrong. I +only know that the less said about the matter, the better pleased Lady +Halcot will be—and probably Mrs. Halcombe also."</p> + +<p>"Trust a city man to keep a secret, Honor," said Mr. Widrington, +nodding his head energetically.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_4">CHAPTER IV.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE ROCKS.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>HONORA came into the back bedroom ten minutes later, to find her +friend, attired in ulster and cap, gazing out of the window into a +little back yard.</p> + +<p>"Dreaming, Gwen?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Gwendoline said, turning, with something like tears in her eyes. +"Doesn't it sometimes feel to you as if life itself were more than half +a dream?"</p> + +<p>"No," Honora answered. "It seems to me altogether a tremendous reality."</p> + +<p>"I know it is so. But sometimes I feel as if we were just leaves tossed +to and fro on irresistible waves of circumstances—straws carried away +on a strong current."</p> + +<p>"Is Lady Halcot's invitation an irresistible wave?" asked Honora drily. +"Why not say no at once?"</p> + +<p>"Say no! I am only too eager to go, only too frightened lest I should +make a mistake, and undo possible good for my mother and father by some +silly blunder. I can't guess what Lady Halcot wants or expects in me. +If I get a self-conscious fit, it will take away all ease; and if I +talk too much she will count me forward; and if I talk too little she +will find me dull."</p> + +<p>"And if she does, what then?"</p> + +<p>"You don't know how much may depend upon this evening, Honor," said +Gwendoline deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>"You mean—"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's cheeks were burning again. "She ought to be kind to my +mother. She ought to be willing to help. I would not say this to +anybody except you, but mother was her adopted child for twenty years, +and everybody thought she would be heiress to some of the property. I +suppose she would have been, but for—but for—her marriage. Can it be +right for Lady Halcot to cast her utterly off?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose your mother took her choice, Gwen," said Honora gently and +gravely.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and it was not Lady Halcot's choice. But Lady Halcot allowed the +engagement for a time, and then refused permission, and turned against +my father. That is where the wrong lay. It was tyranny, Honor. Could +mother have forsaken him? Could you have given him up in her place?"</p> + +<p>Honora moved her head negatively. "Had Lady Halcot a reason?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"She had not known before that my father's family were so poor, and she +disliked some of his connections, I believe. It was nothing in himself. +She ought to have inquired more fully before giving permission. Once +given, she had no right to withdraw it,—for such a reason, at any rate."</p> + +<p>"And she has held no intercourse with your mother since?"</p> + +<p>"None; not a word or a message. She told mother that it would be so, +that if the marriage took place she would never see her or speak to +her again. Mother has not the faintest hope that she ever will. She +says she never knew Lady Halcot change in her purpose, or forgive an +offence. But sometimes I have thought that if I could see Lady Halcot, +I might persuade her to feel differently."</p> + +<p>"She might be willing to help, even if she would not be on former +terms," said Honora. "This looks like a possible step in that +direction."</p> + +<p>"If it only were—if it might be!" said Gwendoline, in a low voice. +"I have such a craving sometimes just to see a possible way out of +our difficulties. I feel like the man who was shut up in a room, and +saw the walls drawing slowly nearer and nearer, day by day, till at +last they crushed him to death between them. That story always had a +dreadful sort of fascination for me, and now I seem to see the walls +closing and closing in. And we cannot escape; and I can do nothing. +Lady Halcot could help so easily; it would be nothing to her. If I +stood alone, I could fight my way, and I would scorn to wish for one +farthing of her money. But the pressure is terrible now, and it gets +worse and worse. Mother is wearing out under it; and father—Honor, I +don't think he ever forgets that he is the cause of my mother being cut +off from ease and luxury."</p> + +<p>"And you are looking to yourself to bring about a reconciliation? Gwen, +if I were you I would 'lift up mine eyes' higher."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline was silent.</p> + +<p>"The thing is not in your hands at all. It is in God's hands. The chasm +may be bridged over any day, if He so will. And He may will to use you +for the purpose. If not—"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" sighed Gwendoline. "That 'if not' is my difficulty."</p> + +<p>"Because you are bent upon having it your own way. But you cannot +choose. It must be His doing; and it must be done, inch by inch, as He +wills. Better be content to have it thus, Gwennie dear,—to rest quietly +under the shadow of His hand, and to let Him order things for you as +He sees best. The walls will not close in and crush you, if you are +waiting on Him to know the way out, but they may be allowed to come a +little nearer. And the way of escape may be other than this."</p> + +<p>Honora spoke in an earnest manner, and she laid a hand lovingly on +Gwendoline's arm. It was a true and close friendship between the two, +and Honora had not only a warm affection for this fair young creature, +but a strong desire to shelter and protect her. Practically she could +do little, however. She was a portionless orphan herself, and had to +make her own way in the world.</p> + +<p>"I ought to be able to trust," said Gwendoline. "We have always been +helped so far,—only when I look forward, and see things growing worse, +I am afraid."</p> + +<p>And Honora said softly, "'Be not afraid;' 'Let not your heart be +troubled.' 'Trust in Him at all times.'"</p> + +<p>She added, after a pause, "I suppose we are so changeable ourselves +by nature, that we really cannot imagine what absolute changelessness +means. Gwen, your Master will not love and care for you one whit less +to-morrow than He did yesterday. Only be willing to have things brought +about as He chooses, and then follow carefully each indication of His +guidance. The quieter you can be in heart, the less likely you are to +undo His will for you by rash action. He knows what is best."</p> + +<p>"It does seem as if it would be so very much best for Lady Halcot to +forgive mother," said Gwendoline sadly. "Not that I like the word +'forgive.' I cannot think my mother was wrong."</p> + +<p>"It might or might not be best. You and I don't know. Now you are +going to have your little run, and you will come back the better for +it. I wish I could go too, but I must not leave my uncle and aunt. +By-the-bye, I thought it best to speak plainly of your relationship to +Lady Halcot, that I might warn them not to talk. I know you do not wish +your affairs to be made the subject of Riversmouth gossip."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline went off somewhat soberly, taking her course down the +crooked principal street, through the cliff-opening, and over the beach.</p> + +<p>The tide was at its full height, and, indeed, was already on the turn, +and the breeze had somewhat increased in strength since the morning. +Waves of considerable size rolled in, to break upon the shore in +a succession of crashes, grinding the rounded pebbles. Three poor +children, neatly dressed, a boy and two girls, were playing near the +margin of the water, and two fishermen were loitering on the top of the +cliff; otherwise, the shore appeared to be deserted. Gwendoline, fresh +from city crowds, revelled in the sense of stillness, and delighted in +the freedom of being thus practically alone.</p> + +<p>Somewhat to the right of the cliff-opening, a long line of jagged +rocks ran straight out into the sea. Gwendoline could not resist the +temptation to climb along them. She did not find the task quite easy; +for, though at low-water they lay high and dry, they were now a very +focus for splashing waves. Albeit a Londoner, she had a sure foot and +steady brain, and she feared no slips. A dash of fine salt spray now +and then was exhilarating; but she managed to keep her feet dry. At +the further extremity of the chain a huge square boulder rose well +out of the water, and here Gwendoline found for herself a comfortable +seat. One or two passers-by, noting her from the cliffs, counted her +rather an adventurous young woman, and were relieved to see her reach +a place of safety. A false step half-way might have entailed serious +consequences.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline gave herself up to enjoyment—not exactly to thinking. Trains +of clear thought, definitely carried on, are not often induced by the +presence of Nature in her fairest moods. The mind is at such a time +rather receiving new impressions than working out old impressions. +Gwendoline was content to sit with clasped hands, thinking definitely +about nothing, but drinking in with her lips the sweet fresh air, and +drinking in with her eyes the varying blue tints of sea and sky, and +drinking in with her ears the grand bass chords and softer treble +accompaniments of the musical symphony played upon the pebbles by +breaking waves and splashing waters; while vague musings crept unbidden +through her mind. And the sense of restful trust in a Father's love, +which she had not quite felt while Honora was speaking, seemed now to +fill her heart.</p> + +<p>"For He made all this," murmured Gwendoline. "How easy for Him to do +just what He wills!"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's dreamy happiness was suddenly broken in upon by a sharp +shriek. The little children on the beach, observing the movements +of the young lady, had apparently been fired thereby to follow her +example. Two of them were perched timidly on a rock at the beginning +of the range, and showed small inclination to proceed farther; but the +third, a boy of about seven, had succeeded in reaching nearly half-way +towards the end boulder. There his footing slipped, or his presence of +mind failed; for, with the scream which disturbed Gwendoline, he fell +over, still grasping a point of rock with both hands.</p> + +<p>The children wailed piteously, and Gwendoline sprang up. "Hold +tight—hold on—I'm coming!" she cried, though doubtful whether her voice +would reach him through the ceaseless splashing of the water. And even +as she spoke, a large white-crested billow swept past, and the boy was +torn away.</p> + +<p>The accident had been seen from the top of the cliff, and men were +hurrying down the steps, but Gwendoline knew there was no time to be +lost. She stood perfectly still, considering what to do. Would the +child be flung on the beach? For a moment she thought so, and then gave +up the hope—if hope it were, since such a manner of landing must have +been perilous to life and limb. The tide had by this time thoroughly +turned, and the flow of the stream was seaward. As the wave passed on, +to boom upon the shingles, the child was left behind, and the next +instant, in the strong return-rush of water, he was borne farther back, +to give a moment's sport to the following wave. Then he disappeared, to +rise again near the boulder on which Gwendoline stood.</p> + +<p>She had not been idle. In that brief space of time, while her eyes were +strained in watching, she had flung off gloves, boots, and ulster, and +had even dropped the skirt of her dress. She knew well that her only +hope of keeping afloat, if the attempt proved needful, would be to find +herself as far as possible unencumbered. She could swim, having learnt +as a child, but she was entirely out of practice.</p> + +<p>Would the little figure come within reach? Gwendoline gave a glance at +the shore, and saw help still distant. Then she knelt down at the edge +of the boulder; but that would not do. She flung herself flat, and hung +over, with outstretched arms, striving to grasp him, but in vain. The +waves, tossing him to and fro, seemed to mock at her efforts.</p> + +<p>Down again into the green water the little form was helplessly sinking, +and another broad billow was rolling up. Gwendoline felt that one hope +only remained. She sprang to her feet, took one steady look, and leaped +boldly in, striking the right spot, and seizing the child. The two went +down together, and rose again, just as the big wave came up to catch +them in its grasp, rolling them over, bearing them on, then leaving +them in its rear.</p> + +<p>Beaten and breathless, Gwendoline found her unpractised swimming powers +of small avail. She could just keep herself afloat, and that was all. +Even that could not be for long. Her best efforts were directed towards +holding the mouth of the unconscious child above the waves; but water +dashed over her own face, blinding and choking her. Would help never +come? Was this to be the end? Gwendoline thought of her mother, and +dimly pictured the coming sorrow in her home. Then she remembered Lady +Halcot, and even wondered what the old lady would think, not to see her +at dinner that evening. A vision of her last unfinished painting rose +next, surrounded by a halo of girlish aspirations, perhaps never to be +fulfilled. Again she found herself in the grasp of a powerful wave, and +she knew her strength was gone. All around grew dark, and she felt that +she and the child were sinking together. Yet in the deadly struggle for +breath there came sweetly the thought of One who had died on the cross +for her; for Gwendoline knew and loved and trusted Him, and He never +fails His own.</p> + +<p>Then something grasped and drew her out of the water; and someone took +from her the little body to which she had so resolutely clung; and +somebody else wrapped a cloak round her, and laid her at the bottom of +the boat. Gwendoline was conscious of so much; and she even opened her +eyes, and saw the weather-beaten faces of three fishermen, and also a +grave face of a different stamp, bending over her. But after that, she +knew no more.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_5">CHAPTER V.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>AFTERWARDS.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"HONOR! Is the child safe? Oh, Honor!"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline started up in bed to a sitting posture, suddenly awake to +the situation. She had been dimly conscious of her whereabouts for an +hour past, conscious of very sick and weary sensations, and of moving +figures around her; conscious also of an indefinite sense of fear from +time to time, which made her cling to her friend's hand for protection. +She had not, in her exhaustion, yet remembered what had occurred, or +thought of asking about the child. But as she lay half sleeping, with +the pleasant protectiveness of Honora's cool hand clasping hers, clear +recollection flashed all at once into her mind.</p> + +<p>"Honor! What am I about? I had quite forgotten. Is the boy safe?"</p> + +<p>"Keep quiet, Gwennie. You are under doctor's orders," said Honora.</p> + +<p>"What doctor? Why, I am not ill."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fosbrook. You have been quite well the last hour, haven't you, +Gwen?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's mind travelled back. "I had forgotten. But I am all right +now. How about the boy?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fosbrook is with him. They are doing all they can," said Honora +gently.</p> + +<p>"Then he has not come to yet? I did my best, my very best," said +Gwendoline sorrowfully. "I could not manage to hold the poor little +head higher; and that last wave nearly did for both of us, I think. He +was longer in the water than I. Is there no hope for him?"</p> + +<p>"They do not give up hope. He may revive even now. If not, you will +still know that you did your utmost. The men cannot say enough about +your courage."</p> + +<p>"Courage! That is nothing. I couldn't have stood by to see him drown. +Oh, Honor, if it has been useless after all! I do wish I had tried a +little harder."</p> + +<p>"It was not possible. Don't take a morbid view of the matter, Gwen. You +endangered your own life for his, and you could not have done more. The +result must be in God's hands."</p> + +<p>"Poor little fellow! I wonder if he has a mother," Gwendoline said. +Tears were dropping—a rare event with her; but she had been unnerved.</p> + +<p>"Not a mother, I believe—only a sister who takes the place of a mother. +I have been too busy with you to learn particulars. I will go now, and +see how he is, if you can promise to keep yourself quiet meantime."</p> + +<p>She found efforts being still carried on, with unremitting vigour, +as yet unsuccessfully. Mr. Fosbrook, a man of about forty, thin, +but well-knit, with sallow complexion and observant eyes, was alike +directing operations and taking an abundant share in them himself. His +assistants were Mr. Widrington and the three sailors. Mrs. Widrington +flustered hither and thither, procuring whatever was asked for, and +making numberless suggestions which nobody heeded.</p> + +<p>No time had been lost, for Mr. Fosbrook had happened to pass at the +very moment of the accident, and he was himself the fourth man in the +boat which put off to the rescue. But the small figure lay still to all +appearance lifeless, and one and another was silently giving up hope. +Honora stood unnoticed for a few seconds near the door.</p> + +<p>"I'm afeared it's all up with him, poor little chap," one of the men +said. "I don't see as it's much use keeping on."</p> + +<p>"Nor I," said Mr. Widrington, though he did not venture to stop +rubbing. "I could tell from the first it wouldn't be no good. Trust me +to know! He's dead, wifie."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Widrington put her handkerchief to her eyes. Mr. Fosbrook had +stooped low, to place his ear over the child's heart, and he stood up +now, with a sharp glance round.</p> + +<p>"Keep on. Don't slacken for an instant. Heat more flannels! It is 'not' +all up with him."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say he is alive, doctor?" exclaimed Mrs. Widrington. "I +shouldn't have thought it, now. Poor dear little man."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fosbrook held again to the parted lips a tiny feather, brought +to him by Honora. "See," he said; and there was indeed a faint stir +visible.</p> + +<p>"Why, so he is! Why, he isn't dead after all!" exclaimed Mrs. +Widrington. "Now I am glad. And that brave girl won't have risked +drowning for nothing. Do you think we may say he is out of danger, +doctor? I should like to send word to his sister, poor thing! And +wouldn't you like me to get some beef-tea or something ready? I +shouldn't wonder if the butcher's shop was open still, and Mary Jane +could run for a pound of beef. He'll want something when he comes to. +What do you think, Honor?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Widrington's excited little patter of talk seemed to be unheard by +Mr. Fosbrook, but at the last word he turned himself about.</p> + +<p>"Miss Halcombe doing well?" he asked, looking at Honora.</p> + +<p>"She is quite herself, and very anxious about the child."</p> + +<p>"Tell her there are signs of life. I hope we shall bring him round yet."</p> + +<p>Honora went swiftly back to bear the message, and to spend another +hour of suspense by Gwendoline's side. Gwendoline said little, only +lay with eager eyes and tremulous lips, watching for tidings. Once or +twice Mrs. Widrington fluttered in, carrying a gentle bustle with her, +and assuring them that the little boy was getting on beautifully; a +statement somewhat modified by a very audible whisper to Honora, that +"she didn't believe he would ever get over it, and she could see the +doctor thought so too."</p> + +<p>"And he's a clever man, is Mr. Fosbrook," she added aloud for the +benefit of both; "and a kind one, though he is rather positive, and +says a sharp word sometimes. But I'm sure he'd do anything for anybody, +if he thought it right. I wonder he don't marry, for he's getting on +in life, and he looks sickly, as if he wanted somebody to take care of +him. Only think, Honor, the poor little boy hasn't any mother living, +and his father was drowned at sea only last year; wouldn't it have +been strange if he had been drowned too?—And he would have been if it +wasn't for this brave girl. And there's a sister who takes care of the +three children, and she is lame or something, and can't come to him. +They say she is half-frantic, poor creature, she cares so much for this +boy. He's a pretty little fellow, and I don't wonder. She must be a +great deal older than these younger children. I wonder if she's only a +half-sister. Now don't you make yourself unhappy, Miss Halcombe. I'll +soon come back with more news."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Fosbrook himself came next. His first move was to take +Gwendoline's hand, and to shake it gently.</p> + +<p>"I congratulate you with all my heart on having saved a life," he said. +"You have acted nobly."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's lips twitched, and she laughed in a nervous manner. "If I +saved one, you helped to save two," she said.</p> + +<p>"Ay, but not at the risk of my own. There is a slight difference, Miss +Halcombe. You ought to have a Humane Society's medal."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no, thank you! I should not like any fuss," said Gwendoline. +"Nothing of that sort. But I am so glad. Poor little boy."</p> + +<p>"Is he quite out of danger?" asked Honora.</p> + +<p>"Quite out of immediate danger. I cannot answer for after consequences."</p> + +<p>"Honor," Gwendoline said softly, a little later, when they were again +alone, "I did not know that the purpose of my coming to Riversmouth was +to be this. I expected something quite different."</p> + +<p>"I suppose there is always a purpose in each step of our way," said +Honora. "But God's purpose for us and our own purpose for ourselves are +often not identical."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline smiled assent, and seemed indisposed to carry on the +conversation. Honora was glad to see her growing sleepy; but suddenly +the sleepiness vanished, and she started up.</p> + +<p>"Honor!"</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Dinner at Lady Halcot's."</p> + +<p>"Past eleven o'clock, Gwen, so I am afraid you can't go now."</p> + +<p>"No, but seriously—was no excuse sent?"</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to say I forgot all about it till an hour ago, and then it +was too late. Besides, we really had no one to spare for a messenger +earlier in the evening. We must despatch a note of explanation in the +morning."</p> + +<p>"I am not going to have any stir made," said Gwendoline resolutely. +"My part of the affair was only just doing what I had to do, and what +anybody else must have done in my place. I shall tell Lady Halcot that +I had an accidental wetting, and that I was very sorry not to go to +her."</p> + +<p>To this plan she adhered when morning came. Honora would have preferred +a little more explicitness, but Gwendoline shrank from any appearance +of boasting, and the note was despatched as she wrote it.</p> + +<p>"I don't see as the thing matters either way," Mr. Widrington said to +his niece. "News travels apace, and her ladyship is sure to hear the +story before many hours are over,—take my word for it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Widrington was mistaken, so far as hours were concerned. +Riversmouth news did not always reach Lady Halcot quickly. She fenced +herself round with an enclosure of distant reserve, and few ventured +to address her uninvited. Miss Withers heard the tale, of course, but +Miss Withers did not repeat it, and for many days Lady Halcot believed +that Gwendoline had made use of a trivial excuse to set aside her +engagement. Such a belief implied displeasure on the part of Lady +Halcot.</p> + +<p>So also thought Mr. Selwyn. He returned by an early train, having +not even seen the note which Gwendoline sent. He ascribed her +non-appearance at dinner to a fit of girlish shyness or pride, and +was alike vexed for her and disappointed in her. He had counted Miss +Halcombe to be rather superior to some feminine weaknesses.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's return home suffered only a day's postponement. She was +somewhat shaken by her adventure, and the doctor counselled longer +delay; but Honora could not remain, and Gwendoline would not consent +to be left behind. She wrote home lightly of what had occurred, making +little of the matter, and Honora, by her request, did not write at all.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_6">CHAPTER VI.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>GWEN'S HOME.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"I DON'T see that your Riversmouth trip has done much for you. If it +was a pleasure, you seem disposed to keep the enjoyment to yourself. +Certainly you are not looking any the better for it."</p> + +<p>Ruth Halcombe, the speaker, was a blunt-mannered girl of seventeen, +two years Gwendoline's junior, and in most respects a contrast to her +elder sister. She was the useful and practical member of the household, +and she prided herself on so being. Everybody in the house depended +more or less on Ruth, yet none looked to her for sympathy. The boys +went to Ruth for buttons and strings, but they carried all their little +confidences to Gwendoline. There was a touch of hardness about Ruth +which repelled people. She was affectionate below the surface, but she +had no tenderness of manner; and she had not yet learnt that usefulness +may co-exist with beauty, and practicalness with poetry. Gwendoline's +restless pantings and aspirations were "sentiment," in Ruth's opinion.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline had returned two or three hours earlier to find herself +suddenly plunged into the little whirl of home cares and the big swirl +of London life.</p> + +<p>The low roar of the latter struck her forcibly, after the quiet of +Riversmouth. Londoner that she was, she never grew reconciled to +perpetual sound, never attained to Ruth's happy condition of not +hearing it, never ceased to feel oppressed by the great city and its +unceasing tumult. She had such a thirst for stillness, and there was no +stillness in her life. Out of doors and indoors, Gwendoline could never +be alone. To her finely-strung nature, solitude at times was more than +a pleasure—it was a positive necessity; yet it was almost unattainable.</p> + +<p>For Mr. Halcombe's income was very narrow, and his house was very +small; and he had a wife, three daughters, and seven sons, not to +speak of a little maid-servant. Lady Halcot possessed her abundance of +large rooms absolutely unused; but in this narrow dwelling with its +dingy outside closed in by other houses to right and left and front +and rear, there was not a corner where one might be secure against +interruption. The elder boys were away all day, it is true: Victor in a +counting-house; Jem, Edmund, and Fred at school; but so was Gwendoline +away most days at her painting, and when she came back, they came back +also. And the four youngest children, Artie, Willie, Bob, and Nell, +were always at home, Ruth being their teacher. So Gwendoline spent her +time in a crowd.</p> + +<p>The sense of overcrowding, and the pressure of home cares, had come +upon her heavily that afternoon, as she found herself once more within +the hall door.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline knew that some fresh trouble was brewing. She knew it before +she had been five minutes at home. Not a word was said which might +suggest the idea, but she read it in her mother's burdened look, and in +the extra sharpness of Ruth's tones. She saw that they wanted to spare +her a little while, and she heard her mother whisper softly, "After +tea, Ruthie." There was no leisure as yet for any quiet conversation, +and Gwendoline wisely asked no questions.</p> + +<p>The narrow dining-room, with its worn-out chairs and its carpet of +undistinguishable pattern, had a crowded appearance at meal times. The +boys were healthy and merry enough, and chatter flowed on unceasingly, +but life's cares seemed to have pressed hard upon the father and +mother. Mr. Halcombe was a frail man, thin and stooping, with a shadowy +likeness to Gwendoline, almost lost in the anxious wrinkles which +furrowed his brow and drew down his mouth-corners. Mrs. Halcombe was +a little slight woman, exceedingly worn, yet with a kind of habitual +cheeriness about her; never perhaps pretty even in the past, but always +refined and sweet-mannered.</p> + +<p>Mr. Halcombe and Victor had a mutton-chop each, in consideration of +their day's work, and Mr. Halcombe ate his slowly, with an abstracted +and mournful air, while Victor, a tall lad of sixteen, talked and +laughed over his in untiring fashion. Ruth stood at the foot of the +table, dispensing hunches of bread from the huge quartern loaf, +and generally overlooking the other six boys, varying in ages from +thirteen-years-old Jem to six-years-old Bob. The fairy-maiden, Nell, +with her sweet eyes and sunny hair, sat in her three-years-old +queenship close beside the tea-making mother, idolized by all.</p> + +<p>"Gwen is tired," Mrs. Halcombe said, in response to Ruth. "It has been +such a bustle ever since she came in. I wish we could have arranged +differently."</p> + +<p>"It has been the same as usual, I suppose," said Ruth. "Gwen must take +home as she finds it—like other people."</p> + +<p>"Ruth always has an appropriate moral ready for every occasion," said +Victor. "I say, Gwen, did you see anything of the old lady down there?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Halcombe had not asked the question, but Gwendoline saw the quick +quiver of her eyelids. "I saw Lady Halcot pass in her pony-carriage, +Victor."</p> + +<p>"Did she speak to you?"</p> + +<p>"No,—she looked—"</p> + +<p>"And that was all?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline had not meant to give particulars just then, but she could +not answer in the affirmative.</p> + +<p>"Lady Halcot saw me standing with Mr. Selwyn," she said. "He was down +for the day, and we had met. She asked him afterwards who I was, and +she sent an invitation through him, asking me to dinner. That was all. +I meant to tell mother presently."</p> + +<p>"A weighty 'all,' too, in my opinion," said Victor.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Halcombe could not trust her voice.</p> + +<p>Mr. Halcombe looked up slowly, and asked, "What did it mean?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid it did not mean much, father. Mr. Selwyn told me not to +count upon it—at least, I think he meant that. Still, it was very +disappointing that I could not go. I sent a note next morning, with an +explanation; but I had no answer."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say you allowed a paltry wetting in the sea to keep +you away?" exclaimed Ruth, in a tone of strong disapproval.</p> + +<p>"I could not help it, Ruth."</p> + +<p>"I would have helped it in your place. How you 'could,' Gwen! When you +knew how much might depend on your pleasing her! If your dress was not +fit to go in, surely Miss Dewhurst would have lent you another. Why, it +seems like insanity!—Such a chance thrown away!"</p> + +<p>"I was very sorry, but it was impossible," repeated Gwendoline, +flushing. "I was in bed all the evening."</p> + +<p>"I would not have been there, I can tell you. And not even an excuse +sent till next morning."</p> + +<p>"No, it was forgotten. I didn't think about Lady Halcot when I first +came to myself,—and the rest were all too busy with the child and me—"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's agitation under Ruth's reproaches betrayed her into saying +so much, and then she paused. For a moment nobody seemed quite to take +in the meaning of her words. Mr. Halcombe was the first to speak. He +had been looking at her steadily, and he now put aside the little boy +between him and Gwendoline, and moved to her side.</p> + +<p>"Gwen, my child," he said in his depressed manner, "this has been more +of an affair than we know. You are quite unnerved and poorly. What is +it, my dear?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's face went down on his shoulder, and she clung to him, +trembling.</p> + +<p>"I saw that she was not herself, directly I came in," he said. "Ruth, +you must not be so hard upon your sister. She would not have stayed +away without good reason, I am sure. What is this about 'coming to +yourself,' Gwennie? You don't mean that you were long enough in the +water to lose consciousness."</p> + +<p>"It couldn't be helped, father," said Gwendoline, lifting her face, and +speaking hurriedly. "I did not want to make a fuss about the thing. It +was only that a little boy fell in, and I had to go after him. There +was nobody else near enough, and he would have been drowned. They got +out a boat as quickly as possible, and came after us, just in time. I'm +not a good enough swimmer for such waves, and I couldn't have held out +any longer. I don't think I was long insensible, and it was more of a +faint than anything else, but the poor little boy was very long coming +round, and somehow nobody remembered Lady Halcot. I never thought about +her at all until eleven o'clock at night. The doctor would not let +me get up next day until the afternoon—not that I was ill, only weak +and shaky. He was very kind, and so was everybody. But I really don't +think I could have gone to see Lady Halcot even yesterday, and I had no +answer at all to my note."</p> + +<p>"My own brave girl," said Mr. Halcombe; and he folded her in his arms. +"Thank God for it—and for His bringing you through. Yes, there are +worse troubles than even money troubles,—you spoke truth, Nellie." This +was to his wife. "If our Gwen had been taken from us! Thank God for His +mercy."</p> + +<p>"Why, Gwen's a heroine!" Victor exclaimed. "Well done, Gwen! We shall +all be proud of you."</p> + +<p>"There's no need. It was just the natural thing to do," Gwendoline said +shamefacedly.</p> + +<p>"You never told us you had been in danger, Gwen," her mother said, with +full eyes.</p> + +<p>"I didn't see the need to write, mother—more than just a few words. +And the danger was soon over. Honor said she meant to call soon and +tell you everything. But don't feel as if I could bear to talk about it +yet," Gwendoline added, with whitening lips. "The very thought of the +sea brings it all back, and turns me dizzy. Can't we speak of something +else?"</p> + +<p>"Gwen had much better go into the next room and be quiet," Ruth +said, with a touch of apology for her own harshness. "Why don't you, +Gwen?—and mother too. You will like a chat, and I'll look after +everything."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline did not protest. She gave Ruth a grateful look, and went, +followed by Mrs. Halcombe. It was not the household custom to dispute +Ruth's mandate in lesser matters.</p> + +<p>"Mother," Gwendoline said, making early use of her opportunity, "what +has happened since I went away?"</p> + +<p>"A good many things have happened, Gwen."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but you can't take me in," Gwendoline said, looking stedfastly +into Mrs. Halcombe's faded eyes. "Something particular has +come—something that troubles you and father very much. I see it +plainly. You can't take me in, mother darling. I must know, or I shall +lie awake all night, wondering. It is easier to bear the truth than +one's own fancies."</p> + +<p>"Not always, Gwen," her mother said.</p> + +<p>"Almost always, I think. Is it a money trouble, mother?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Halcombe tried to answer, and her voice failed. She could only +press Gwendoline's hand.</p> + +<p>"It must be something very bad indeed, for you to feel it so much," +said Gwendoline gravely. "Tell me all, please. It is worse to wait."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could make you wait," Mrs. Halcombe said with a sob. "Oh, +Gwen, it is hard to bear up. God will surely provide for us. I have +told myself so again and again, the last day or two, and I have tried +hard to be brave—to trust. But it is a sore trial of faith. I cannot +see what we can do. I cannot see any way out."</p> + +<p>"What is it, mother? Don't mind crying, but just tell me."</p> + +<p>That Mrs. Halcombe should fail in her cheery self-command, at +least before others, was an event rare indeed, and Gwendoline was +proportionately dismayed, yet proportionately anxious not to be herself +betrayed into tears.</p> + +<p>She repeated earnestly, "Don't be afraid, mother. We shall be +helped—surely—somehow. Only please tell me what is wrong."</p> + +<p>"It is at the bank. They have told your father that they will not want +him any more—any more—after Midsummer."</p> + +<p>"Mother!"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline could say no more. She was absolutely paralyzed. Her first +sensation was as if she had been sinking again among ocean waves, as +if literal billows were rising around her and taking away her breath. +But she only uttered the one faint word, and then sat, white and still, +till power of breath and speech came back. Mrs. Halcombe's face was +hidden in her hands.</p> + +<p>"Father dismissed! But what for? What has he done?" asked Gwendoline, +in distress.</p> + +<p>"Nothing. It is not anything that he has done. They spoke kindly—said +they would give the highest testimonials. But they are making some +changes, and they want a younger man in his place. Your father says +it is natural. He says he has grown old and slow lately, and has been +forgetful and made mistakes. He is wearing out. But oh, Gwen, it is +very very terrible! What shall we do? How shall we live?"</p> + +<p>"If I had seen Lady Halcot!" muttered Gwendoline's quivering lips. "If +I had not tried to save the child's life! Mother, it couldn't be wrong +to do that!" she broke out passionately. "It couldn't be wrong! I would +do it again, no matter what might come after. But why didn't I go to +Lady Halcot next day? If only I had not been so shy, so foolish."</p> + +<p>"It might have made no difference. I do not suppose she would help us, +Gwen."</p> + +<p>"Honor would tell us to look higher—to trust. Mother, God won't forsake +us. He will bring us through somehow. There may be better days ahead. +But it is terrible. Poor poor father!"</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_7">CHAPTER VII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>MR. FOSBROOK'S STORY.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>LADY HALCOT sat in her favourite room, beside her davenport, writing +letters—an occupation which filled many hours of each day. She was an +active old lady, mentally as well as bodily, and took a keen personal +interest in everything which concerned her estate and her tenants.</p> + +<p>The letter-writing did not advance so well as usual this morning. Lady +Halcot looked more than wontedly pale, and her bony hand trembled +visibly. She laid down her pen and took it up again several times, as +if struggling against the weakness.</p> + +<p>The placid fair-haired Miss Withers sat in the bow-window, over a small +work frame, and her eyes travelled repeatedly towards the old lady. She +said at length, "Would you like me to send for Conrad?"</p> + +<p>"What for?" asked Lady Halcot.</p> + +<p>"I thought he might be a help; you seem scarcely equal to your work +this morning."</p> + +<p>"If I am not equal to the task of managing my own brains, Miss Withers, +I certainly am not equal to the task of managing Mr. Withers' brains."</p> + +<p>Miss Withers bore the remark meekly. After a pause she gave utterance +to a low sigh, and a gentle, "Poor Conrad."</p> + +<p>"He does his best. I am quite aware of that," said Lady Halcot, in a +manner half satirical, half conciliatory. "He may improve in time. At +all events, we can hope so a little longer. When did Mr. Fosbrook say +he would be here?"</p> + +<p>"At about eleven."</p> + +<p>"Half-past eleven now. I shall not wait in for him much longer."</p> + +<p>The pen was laid down again, and Lady Halcot leant back with a tired +look.</p> + +<p>"I think you have done too much lately," said Miss Withers.</p> + +<p>"It is not 'doing.' Work never hurts me. I have a difficulty in making +up my mind—"</p> + +<p>Miss Withers said, "Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I shall have to send for Mr. Selwyn again. His last visit was thrown +away. I could come to no conclusion."</p> + +<p>"About—?" said Miss Withers.</p> + +<p>"Certain alterations which I desire to have made in my will. What else +should I mean?"</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot was, as a rule, reserved to a fault about her own affairs; +but occasional little fits of unpremeditated frankness were among the +signs of old age creeping over her. Miss Withers showed no excitement, +but her pale blue eyes watched the face of Lady Halcot intently as a +cat watches a bird.</p> + +<p>"I supposed it was a question of some distant heir-at-law with you," +she said slowly, and with seeming indifference.</p> + +<p>"You supposed rightly, as regards the title and the landed estate. But +I have also property at my own disposal. However, there is no need to +carry on the subject. It concerns myself alone—only sometimes I have a +wish to get things settled and off my mind. I am not so young as I was, +and responsibilities weigh more upon me than they once did. Be so good +as to order the pony-carriage to be ready for me in half an hour, Miss +Withers. I shall not wait any longer for Mr. Fosbrook."</p> + +<p>Miss Withers moved in her soft and gliding fashion to obey. She was +absent about ten minutes, and on coming back the sound of voices told +her of the doctor's arrival meantime. Miss Withers waited outside a +little longer, and then re-entered the boudoir.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fosbrook does not think there is much the matter with me," Lady +Halcot said, turning her head. "Not a break-up yet, by any means—eh, +doctor? I am to take a tonic for a week or two. Not that I believe in +tonics at my age. But it will do no harm. Mr. Fosbrook is giving me +quite a glowing description, Miss Withers, of a young lady rescuing a +little boy from drowning last week in Riversmouth. I cannot imagine how +I have escaped hearing of it sooner. Did no report of the adventure +reach your ears?"</p> + +<p>"A mere report,—nothing of consequence," Miss Withers said +hesitatingly, with a faint blush. "I imagined it to be an exaggerated +story."</p> + +<p>"The courage and self-devotion of the young lady were hardly capable of +exaggeration," Mr. Fosbrook said.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fosbrook is quite carried away by his admiration," said Lady +Halcot. "But we may depend upon the correctness of an eye-witness. +Go on, doctor, if you please; or stay—begin again, for Miss Withers' +benefit."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fosbrook obeyed without reluctance. He spoke quietly, and with +no superabundance of adjectives; but as he described Gwendoline's +position, and her brave plunge into deep water, his sallow cheek +glowed, and a curious light shone in the old lady's black eyes.</p> + +<p>Yet Lady Halcot's first remark at the close of the tale was cynical. +"So you were the rescuer, after all! Quite a poetical finale, Mr. +Fosbrook. I suppose we may expect a third volume to the novel."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fosbrook suddenly resumed his cool professional manner. "You were +not present, Lady Halcot. If you had been—but time is getting on."</p> + +<p>"Not twelve yet. Wait a minute," said Lady Halcot. "That girl ought to +have a medal, Mr. Fosbrook."</p> + +<p>"So I said; but she would not hear of its being made known."</p> + +<p>"She can't help it. Such a deed must become known. I will take action +in the matter myself. What is her name, and where does she live? 'A +young lady' you call her."</p> + +<p>"She was down in Riversmouth merely for a day or two,—quite a stranger +to the place. Her name is Halcombe—Gwendoline Halcombe."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fosbrook was, of course, aware of the relationship between +Gwendoline Halcombe and Lady Halcot; doctors usually hear the little +ins and outs of such matters. It was hardly likely that he should have +practised sixteen years in Riversmouth, though originally not a native +of the place, without knowing the tale of Lady Halcot's displeasure +towards her niece. But he betrayed no consciousness in word or manner; +and whether or no Lady Halcot believed in his unconsciousness, she did +not betray herself either.</p> + +<p>"Gwendoline Halcombe," she repeated.</p> + +<p>"A young artist from London, whom I believe you kindly purposed taking +some notice of, Lady Halcot."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Selwyn had mentioned her to me. Yes, I invited her to dinner, +and she did not come. There was a note next morning, which spoke of +an 'accidental wetting' in the sea as the cause. I confess I was +displeased."</p> + +<p>"The 'accidental wetting' was of a serious nature," said Mr. Fosbrook.</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot sat considering, some strong feeling visible through the +quick motions of her eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"A pretty girl," she said at length, half to herself.</p> + +<p>"Very pretty and ladylike," assented Mr. Fosbrook.</p> + +<p>"Yes—ladylike. One could see that at a glance. The story interests me a +good deal, Mr. Fosbrook, I like heroism, and I like to see it rewarded. +Gwendoline Halcombe interests me also. Perhaps I may get her down here +some day on a visit. She must be a girl of character. Yes—I should not +mind seeing something more of her. What do you say to the idea, Miss +Withers?"</p> + +<p>"I have not the pleasure of Miss Halcombe's acquaintance," said Miss +Withers, trying to cover an unhappy expression with a smile. "She may +no doubt be the kind of young person who would suit your ladyship."</p> + +<p>"Young person!" said Lady Halcot, with an astonished air.</p> + +<p>And, when Mr. Fosbrook was gone, she added, "You seem to forget that +Gwendoline Halcombe is my relative."</p> + +<p>"I did not know your ladyship wished the fact to be remembered," +faltered Miss Withers.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_8">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>A CALLER.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>DINNER was just over at Mr. Selwyn's,—a well-appointed and well-ordered +meal, always. Mr. Selwyn liked to have things "nice" about him, and he +could afford to have them as he wished. He was tired with his day's +work, not knocked up and exhausted, but just comfortably tired, able +to enjoy the thought of a reposeful evening. Mrs. Selwyn, in a happy +flutter of silk and lace, had made her way into the drawing-room, and +thither the two gentlemen, father and son, had speedily followed her.</p> + +<p>The son was very little younger than his step-mother, and he and +she appeared to be on extremely pleasant terms. It would have been +difficult to be on any other terms with Mortimer Selwyn. He was a +thorough gentleman, sweet-tempered almost to a fault, fastidious on +certain points, but never exacting. Many counted Mortimer a singular +man. He was slightly lame, and had passed a sickly boyhood. Strange +to say, he had never been put into any profession. Mr. Selwyn through +many widowed years had shrunk morbidly from parting with his only +son. Mortimer was long counted unfit for hard work, and, his mother's +property being settled upon him, his future was amply provided for. So +he had lived on at home, year after year, with no definite work in life.</p> + +<p>No definite work, that is to say, provided for him by others. A plan +which would have been utterly detrimental to ninety-nine young men in +a hundred had had no ill results with Mortimer. For he was by nature +a man of thoughtful purpose and of literary tastes; and he was, "not" +by nature, a man of high Christian principle. To fritter away his +time in self-pleasing was not a possibility with Mortimer Selwyn. The +work which had not been provided for him, he provided for himself. +The life-aims which had not been set before him, he sought out and +found. Strong as was the affection which existed between father and +son, it was by no means the affection of unity in tastes, or likeness +in manner of thought. Mortimer cared not a whit for the law, and +Mr. Selwyn had small interest in his son's pursuits. Truth to tell, +the latter were legion in number, and leisure was necessary for the +appreciation of them. Mr. Selwyn was a man of no leisure, and a man of +one primary pursuit, Mortimer was a man of boundless leisure, which +yet never implied idleness, and of multitudinous pursuits; among which +literature, science, and philanthropy held no doubt the foremost places.</p> + +<p>Also, on religious points the two did not agree. Mr. Selwyn was not +without a certain amount of religion, professed, and perhaps, so far +as it went, genuine. He was very reserved on such topics, and possibly +felt more deeply than he allowed to appear. But he counted office-work +and religion to be matters necessarily kept apart, to be in their +nature "wide as the poles asunder;" the inevitable consequence of which +view was that religion found itself in a small corner, the chief space +in his time and thoughts being monopolized by "work."</p> + +<p>Mortimer, on the contrary, was one whose very life was impregnated with +religion, whose every word and action were as in the presence of the +living God. He lost nothing in manliness by this; rather, he gained by +it. But for this high consciousness, but for his vivid realization of +the great realities of life and death and the future beyond, he might +have sunk into a mere self-indulgent invalid, or, as health came to him +in an unemployed youth, have rushed into a career of self-indulgent +evil.</p> + +<p>He was not much of a religious talker. He "could" speak, of course, +and with glowing earnestness, on the things which most occupied his +mind, but he rarely spoke uninvited, and never thrust his opinions +upon unwilling hearers. There was no need. Mortimer's manly pleasant +face spoke for itself; and the manner of his daily life had a clearer +utterance for the honour of his Master's Name than any mere words could +have had. Neither did he say much at any time about at least one chief +part of his work in life. People heard of his coming and going, and saw +his interest in science and literature. But of the many poor whom he +visited, the sufferers lifted out of want by his hand, the struggling +toilers helped onward, the gifts silently given where needed,—of these +the world in general knew nothing at all, or heard only a whisper here +and there by accident.</p> + +<p>A fire had been lighted, more for cheerfulness than from necessity, +since it was a warm spring day; and Mrs. Selwyn sat near it, making +believe to get through a little fancywork, in reality hoping for +conversation. She hoped for some time in vain. Mortimer was deep in a +periodical; and Mr. Selwyn apparently was deep in thought. He broke out +suddenly, after a long pause,—</p> + +<p>"You women are the most irrational beings—sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Thanks!" Isobel said drily.</p> + +<p>"Especially for the last qualifying word," added Mortimer, lifting a +pair of amused eyes. "What unfortunate female has aroused your ire +to-day, father?"</p> + +<p>"I was merely thinking of my trip to Riversmouth last week, and of Miss +Halcombe's extraordinary conduct."</p> + +<p>"Miss Halcombe does not give one the impression that she is an +irrational being exactly."</p> + +<p>"I should have supposed her to be a young woman of remarkable sense," +said Mr. Selwyn. "But to throw away such an opportunity! However, it is +done now, and cannot be undone. She will never have another."</p> + +<p>"Is the old lady so vindictive?" asked Isobel.</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn moved his shoulders. "Lady Halcot counted herself slighted. +That was all."</p> + +<p>"Miss Halcombe couldn't possibly have gone to the Leys in a +draggle-tailed condition," said Isobel.</p> + +<p>"Miss Halcombe had no business to become draggle-tailed," said Mr. +Selwyn.</p> + +<p>"Why, Stuart, I shall be quite frightened of you. I did not know you +could be so severe."</p> + +<p>The lawyer's face relaxed into a smile. "Was I severe? My regrets +are all for Gwendoline Halcombe's own sake. She is a charming girl, +and might have won the old lady over,—a most desirable thing for her +parents. I fear there is no hope now of such a consummation."</p> + +<p>The man-servant entered. "If you please, sir, Miss Halcombe desires a +few words with you, if possible."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Mr. Selwyn, though not quite pleased. He liked to +keep business for business quarters, and to have his home inviolable. +"Show her into my study."</p> + +<p>"Stuart, do bring her here," interposed Isobel. "How odd that she +should come just when we were speaking about her! But I really am +curious to see this little paragon of yours."</p> + +<p>"Stay," Mr. Selwyn said to the man. "Will you have her in at once, +Isobel?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure,—I should like it immensely. If she wants a private +interview, you can take her to your study afterwards."</p> + +<p>The man vanished, and Mortimer said quietly, "You will admire her."</p> + +<p>"How do you know? Have you seen Miss Halcombe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—more than once."</p> + +<p>"But I may not think her pretty."</p> + +<p>"I think you will. You are not one of those women who cannot admire +another pretty woman."</p> + +<p>Isobel looked pleased. She liked words of appreciation from her +step-son. There was no time for more, however. Gwendoline was already +in the doorway.</p> + +<p>There she paused. She had on her ulster, and her little cap with the +wavy short hair showing below, as Mr. Selwyn had seen her on the shore; +but no geranium-tint was in her pale cheeks, and the large brown eyes +were opened with a startled and dazzled expression.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," she said, drawing back. "There is some mistake. I +only wanted a few words with Mr. Selwyn alone."</p> + +<p>"You shall have them, Miss Halcombe," said the lawyer. "But my wife +wishes for the pleasure of your acquaintance, and she asked to make +use of this opportunity. Come in and sit down. Isobel, this is Miss +Halcombe."</p> + +<p>"I have heard my husband speak of you," Isobel said kindly, leading +Gwendoline to a chair, and giving Mortimer a glance expressive of +admiration.</p> + +<p>He came forward, with his slight limp and his courteous manner, and as +they shook hands a faint colour rose for an instant to her cheeks. The +paleness following was so marked that Mortimer said gravely, "You are +not well, I am afraid."</p> + +<p>"Thank you—I—" Gwendoline hesitated, as if trying to collect her +thoughts. "I am only—a little—"</p> + +<p>"Have you been wandering about London without food for hours?" he +suggested, with a touch of reproach.</p> + +<p>"I had dinner at one, only I could not eat," said Gwendoline, with +difficulty. "It does not matter, thank you."</p> + +<p>"My dear, you will be fainting away if you don't take something," said +Isobel, laying her plump little hand, with its diamond rings, upon +Gwendoline's slender fingers. "Pray don't do that, for I have the +greatest horror of seeing anybody faint. Here comes the coffee, just in +time. Or would you rather have a glass of wine?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, coffee, please," said Gwendoline; and she was speedily served.</p> + +<p>A minute or two later she could look up, with a sweet, though, Isobel +thought, touchingly sad smile, to say, "Thank you very much. I didn't +quite know how much I wanted something."</p> + +<p>"Have you had a very busy day?" asked Isobel kindly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I was sorry I could not get to Mr. Selwyn's office in time; but +indeed I could not."</p> + +<p>"Are you in a hurry now?" asked Isobel, noticing a furtive glance at +the clock.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I ought not to wait. It is getting late, and I have so far +to go."</p> + +<p>"You ought not to go about like this, my dear, unprotected," said +Isobel.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's lip quivered. She said only, "I must."</p> + +<p>"How do you get home?"</p> + +<p>"I shall walk part of the way, and catch an omnibus somewhere."</p> + +<p>"It is not right," said Isobel.</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn thought the same, but he did not say so. "We must not delay +you," he said; and he rose to lead the way into his study, followed by +Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"I shall see you again some day," Isobel said cordially, pressing her +hand.</p> + +<p>And Mr. Selwyn was some time closeted with the young girl. Coming out, +Gwendoline was met in the hall by Mortimer.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," he said. "There is a cab at the door, waiting for you. +Mrs. Selwyn and I could not be content to let you go any other way."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline did not know what to say, and allowed herself to be handed +in.</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn presently found his way from the study to the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must not ask what the interview was about?" his wife said.</p> + +<p>"It is easily told. Her father is to lose his situation at Midsummer; +and—unless by a miracle—he and they will then be almost penniless." +Mr. Selwyn spoke in a moved tone. "That poor child! If ever I saw +heart-break in a girl's face—yet all the while so collected and +womanly. Poor little Gwendoline!"</p> + +<p>"But can nothing be done?"</p> + +<p>"I have promised to inquire elsewhere for him—after other work. The +matter does not look hopeful. Something may be found, no doubt. The +difficulty is to find any opening for a man of his age which will bring +in enough to support such a family."</p> + +<p>"Can't you give them some money?"</p> + +<p>"A fifty-pound cheque would not go far towards keeping twelve people in +comfort for a quarter of a year."</p> + +<p>Isobel thought of her last dressmaker's bill with a twinge of +conscience.</p> + +<p>"Fifty pounds!" she repeated. "It is perfectly appalling."</p> + +<p>The man-servant reappeared, and gave Mr. Selwyn a telegram. "Do you +know where Mr. Mortimer is?" Mr. Selwyn asked, opening it.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Mr. Mortimer went upon the coach-box, to see the young lady +safe home. He also said he had some one to call upon in that direction."</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn's face wore a dubious expression. "Humph!" he muttered, when +the man was gone. "Rather unnecessary philanthropy."</p> + +<p>"Who is that from?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Halcot again. She desires an interview immediately. I can't +possibly go for three or four days."</p> + +<p>"Lady Halcot seems to think you have nothing to do but to wait upon +her," said Isobel.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Meanwhile Gwendoline, driving homewards alone in her cab, had time for +the indulgence of sad thoughts and weariness. She was heavy at heart, +and her interview with Mr. Selwyn had scarcely lightened the weight. +He had not spoken in a sanguine tone about finding employment for her +father, and the future looked very dark.</p> + +<p>At the end of the street where she lived the cab halted. Certain +road-repairs made it impossible to proceed farther.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline was astonished to see a cloaked figure alight and come with +limping step to the window.</p> + +<p>"Miss Halcombe, shall we drive to the other end of the road—I suppose +that will be open—or will you alight here?"</p> + +<p>"Here, if you please; it is not far," she answered; and then she said, +"Mr. Selwyn!"</p> + +<p>"Excuse the liberty I have taken. There is a sick person in this +neighbourhood whom I wish to see, and I thought I might venture to +utilize your coach-box."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline descended and paused. "A sick person—at this time of night?"</p> + +<p>"An old man, past eighty. He is bedridden, and suffers much from +sleeplessness, and likes late visitors."</p> + +<p>"But were you really going to-night? Is that your reason?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said, smiling. "I was not going, but I have come—and it is +true that I wished to see the old man. Also, I wished to see you safely +home."</p> + +<p>"The cabman?" said Gwendoline, turning.</p> + +<p>"I have not done with him yet. It will be all right."</p> + +<p>"Don't come any farther, please. Good-night," said Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"I should like to see you to your door,—but I can walk behind, if you +like."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, no!—Nonsense!" said Gwendoline hurriedly, breaking into a +laugh, which was almost a sob. "You are very kind—only I don't think it +is right that you should have the trouble."</p> + +<p>Mortimer made no answer to this. They crossed the road together, and he +said quietly, after a slight break, "There are some days in which it is +difficult to see the light behind the cloud."</p> + +<p>"I can't see any light at all to-day," said Gwendoline sadly.</p> + +<p>"And yet it is there."</p> + +<p>"I can't see it," repeated Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"I saw from your face that you were in trouble,—'walking in darkness,' +perhaps, and 'having no light.' Then, Miss Halcombe, 'let him trust in +the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God.'"</p> + +<p>"Could you do that if everything were being taken away from you?" asked +Gwendoline bitterly.</p> + +<p>Mortimer's manner changed, and his voice grew strangely humble. "I dare +not say," he answered. "If God gave me grace—yes—not otherwise. It has +not been God's will to try me thus. How easy for me in my circumstances +to look on and tell another to trust! And yet—I too have known times +of darkness and pain, and I have proved the loving faithfulness of my +God. Surely I have a right to speak without presumption. Miss Halcombe, +His fatherly care will not come to an end. 'He will not fail thee nor +forsake thee.'"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline lifted her face, wet with tears, as they paused at the door +of the house. "Thank you," she said tremulously. "Oh, thank you! I +think I was forgetting. Honor has so often said the same. I know it is +so, really. But it isn't easy always to feel sure. Good-bye."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image007" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"><a id="Image007"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image007.jpg" alt="image007"></a></figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>SHE LEAPED BOLDLY IN,</b><br> +<b>STRIKING THE RIGHT SPOT.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>She gave him her hand, and he bent his head, with a murmur which +sounded like, "God bless you." Then he was gone, and she stood dreamily +listening to the sound of his unequal steps passing into the distance. +Mr. Halcombe answered the bell.</p> + +<p>"Gwen, my child, you are late," he said. "We were growing anxious."</p> + +<p>"I could not help it, father. I could not get to Mr. Selwyn's in time, +and I have been all the way to his own home. He was very kind, and Mr. +Mortimer Selwyn called a cab, and saw me home, and would not let me +pay. I don't know whether I ought to have allowed it."</p> + +<p>They moved slowly into the deserted dining-room, where the boys had +been doing lessons all the evening, and where a tumbler of milk and +some bread and butter waited on the table.</p> + +<p>"Ruth left these for you. She had to go up-stairs to do some mending +for the children; and your mother was knocked up, so we persuaded her +to go to bed early. You must want food, Gwen."</p> + +<p>"No, I had something. I can't eat, father."</p> + +<p>She drank the milk; then put her two arms round him, as he stood beside +the mantelpiece, and rested her head on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Poor worn-out child, always toiling for others," he said sadly. "It +grieves me that the burdens of life should come upon you so early. You +are not fitted for them yet,—under twenty, my Gwennie. Ten years later +I should not mind. I wish I could shelter my darling a little longer."</p> + +<p>"It will all come right by and by," murmured Gwen.</p> + +<p>"I ought to have gone to Mr. Selwyn's, and not you, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, father; I am glad I went. I know Mr. Selwyn best, and he is +always kind to me. But he did not seem very—hopeful."</p> + +<p>"He would not wish to pledge himself to anything, of course. And he is +a busy man. I hardly see what we can expect from him."</p> + +<p>A cold shiver ran through Mr. Halcombe's whole frame, communicating +itself to the slight figure which rested against him. The prospect +ahead seemed to him so utterly chill and dark. He had almost no private +means. Victor received a small salary, and Gwendoline could make a few +pounds here or there by painting little pictures; but with the loss of +his situation in the bank, all other means of livelihood were swept +away.</p> + +<p>"Father, something will turn up. We shall be cared for," said +Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"I am trying to think so, Gwen, but it is a hard trial of my faith."</p> + +<p>"God will not fail us," said Gwendoline, half-unconsciously echoing +Mortimer's words.</p> + +<p>"He has never failed me yet, but I never came before to such a strait +as this. It is utter darkness—utter destitution."</p> + +<p>"But God can help us. It isn't too hard for Him," whispered Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>Then the poor tired girl burst into tears. "Oh, father, if only I had +seen Lady Halcot—if only that had not been prevented! Ruth wouldn't +have been so easily hindered in my place. Why did I not go to her the +next day? It does seem so terrible that I may have stopped help from +coming to you and mother. I don't know how to bear the thought."</p> + +<p>"You acted for the best. It is of God's ordering, Gwen."</p> + +<p>"Father, why don't you write to Lady Halcot and ask help?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "No use. I have tried that plan before."</p> + +<p>"Then let me write. May I do it? I think my note of excuse was too +short. I didn't want to make a fuss, and perhaps I went too far the +other way. Honor thought so. May I write, father?"</p> + +<p>She grew eager over the idea, and her cheeks flushed. "I know what to +say," she went on. "It all seems coming to me, like daylight. Shall I +show you the letter, or shall I tell her that no one has seen it."</p> + +<p>"I think that would be best," said Mr. Halcombe slowly. "I do not wish +to prevent your making the attempt, my dear, as a satisfaction to +yourself. But nothing will come of it. I know Lady Halcot better than +you, and I have no hope whatever of any favourable result. Better say +nothing to your mother or Ruth. It will probably end in disappointment."</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure," said Gwendoline softly. "It might be the way God +would help us, father. I think I am right just to try. But I will not +say a word to anybody. I'll write the letter now, before I go to bed."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_9">CHAPTER IX.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THREE days passed, and an answer came from Lady Halcot, addressed to +Gwendoline, in her ladyship's bold handwriting. Gwendoline did not +know the writing, but crest and postmark told their tale. Tea and +mutton-chops were in full swing when the letter arrived, and under +cover of the boys' chatter, Gwendoline was able to peruse it almost +unnoticed.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "DEAR GWENDOLINE HALCOMBE,—Your letter has reached me, and I have also +heard in other quarters of your late courageous conduct with respect to +a drowning child. I like bravery in a woman, and I congratulate you.<br> +<br> + "Your father's present position is only what was to be expected sooner +or later, under the circumstances.<br> +<br> + "I am not unwilling to help, but it must be in my own manner, and on my +own terms.<br> +<br> + "These terms are as follows:<br> +<br> + "I wish you, Gwendoline Halcombe, to leave your present home, and to +reside entirely with me at the Leys. You will then be under my control, +occupying the position of my adopted child; and, so long as you submit +to my will, I undertake to provide handsomely for your future.<br> +<br> + "At the same time, and as a corollary to this state of things, I +consent to settle the sum of £500 per annum upon your father and +mother, for the term of their natural lives, the survivor continuing to +receive the same until his or her death, after which the annuity will +revert to me or my heirs, as I shall appoint.<br> +<br> + "I do not wish to cut you off entirely from your family, but you must +understand that I have personally no interest in your relatives. You +may keep up a moderate correspondence with your home-circle, and once +in two years I shall permit you to go home for a month.<br> +<br> + "I state the matter thus clearly at the beginning, that there may be no +mistakes. This is a purely business letter. I may add, however, that if +you decide to accept this proposal, my wish will be to make your life a +happy one. I like your face, and I believe you would suit me well.<br> +<br> + "You may consider the matter at your leisure, and, if you will, consult +my lawyer, Mr. Selwyn. I am informing him of what I propose to do, and +I believe him to be an acquaintance of yours.<br> +<br> + "I do not press for a hasty decision, but I do desire you, Gwendoline +Halcombe, to understand that your decision either way is to be a +permanent decision. You do not come to the Leys on trial for a few +months, to grow tired of the plan and throw it up. If you come, you +remain.<br> +<br> + "Also you must please to understand that on these terms only will I +assist your parents. If you decline my offer for yourself, my offer of +aid to them falls to the ground.—I remain, yours truly,—<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 24.5em;">"H. HALCOT."</span><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"Who is your letter from, Gwen?" asked Victor. "It doesn't look like +the handwriting of a young lady friend."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline heard the words, but did not gather their meaning. A +sensation of being suffocated came over her, and voices buzzed loudly +in her ears. She stood up panting.</p> + +<p>"Gwen!" said Mrs. Halcombe, while her father watched her anxiously. "My +dear, are you ill?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, mother!" cried Gwendoline, in an agony, which yet was not +all pain. Perplexity and bewilderment had a share in her distress.</p> + +<p>"Gwen, don't frighten us all," said Ruth roughly. "What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline grew suddenly calm, awaking to the fact that she might +not explain hastily before the children. None but Ruth and Victor, +beside herself, knew of the impending trouble. She sat down, and spoke +quietly, "Never mind just now, Ruth. It is only—something that I must +tell mother and father presently."</p> + +<p>"Delightfully vague, now you have put us all on the rack of curiosity," +said Victor.</p> + +<p>"Would you rather come and tell me now, Gwen?" asked her father.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline saw that waiting was no easy matter to him. She rose and put +the letter into his hands, and, instead of returning to her seat, left +the room.</p> + +<p>"Gwen is altogether upset by her Riversmouth trip," said Ruth, in +a tone of some sharpness. "I don't know what has come over her. Is +anything wrong, father?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Halcombe made no reply, and Ruth knew better than to ask again. He +perused the letter slowly, and at length looked up to meet his wife's +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Nellie, you had better take this, and give it back to Gwen yourself, +after reading it," he said; and he came round the table to her side. +"Tell her there is no need for any haste as to a decision." Mr. +Halcombe spoke low, as if not intending others to hear, and as if +scarcely conscious that the children's voices had dropped into silence. +"Gwen wrote to Lady Halcot, and this is her reply. We thought it best +not to trouble you about the matter sooner."</p> + +<p>Ruth's face showed pique at not having been taken into confidence. +Mrs. Halcombe was not given to feeling pique at imaginary slights; but +the sight of the familiar handwriting evidently stirred her keenly. +She began to read, sitting still at the head of the table, which was +not what her husband had intended. He had wished her to leave the room +first.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think you had better go to Gwen, dear?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She answered dreamily, "Yes, directly," and read on, not slowly, as he +had done, but glancing more and more rapidly from sentence to sentence, +while a look of dismay gathered over her face.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, no, no!—Impossible!" she said at the end, standing up, and +fixing a startled gaze on her husband. "Quite impossible! Oh no, we +could never consent to it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Halcombe did not enter upon the question there and then. He put a +hand upon her arm, and only said gently, "Go and tell Gwen what you +think about it."</p> + +<p>"It could never never be, James. Impossible!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Halcombe went hurriedly away, and Mr. Halcombe returned to his +seat. But the last half of his mutton-chop remained uneaten, and his +cup of tea stood till it was cold.</p> + +<p>Ruth asked at length, "Father, has anything fresh happened?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Halcombe said gravely, "You will know in good time, Ruth;" and then +his face was hidden in his hands.</p> + +<p>Ruth's voice grew somewhat querulous, but a certain awe-struck silence +remained upon all the others till the meal was over.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Mrs. Halcombe did not find her daughter in the drawing-room, so she +went straight up-stairs to the little bedroom overhead occupied by the +three sisters.</p> + +<p>"Gwen, may I come in?" she asked; and the door was immediately unlocked.</p> + +<p>"Gwennie, it can never never be," said Mrs. Halcombe tremblingly. "It +can never be, my child."</p> + +<p>That was all that either of them said at first. Gwendoline shut the +door again, and went back to the window where she had been standing. +Mrs. Halcombe followed her, and for a minute or more they remained +silently side by side, looking out into the quiet dingy street, with +the dull row of houses opposite. Quiet, dingy, dull—the surroundings +were such, undoubtedly. Yet this was Gwendoline's home. It had been +her home from infancy. Never till this hour had she known how much she +loved it.</p> + +<p>But presently the two faces turned as if instinctively away from +the street to meet each the other. Mrs. Halcombe was agitated and +tearful still. Gwendoline was very quiet and pale, with a certain +grave resoluteness in her liquid brown eyes. Mrs. Halcombe saw and was +alarmed.</p> + +<p>"Gwennie, it can never be," she said again, and she took Gwendoline's +hands between her own. "Never, my darling. How could we give you up? Oh +no, it is quite impossible! Anything rather than to lose our Gwen. It +would break my heart. I could not bear it, darling."</p> + +<p>"Anything, mother!"</p> + +<p>"I do not say it unsubmissively, Gwen. 'Anything' as a matter of +choice, I mean. If it were God's will to take you from us, I could +submit—I hope—without murmuring. He would give me power. It would +be very terrible, but it would be His will. But to send you away +ourselves—for our own personal gain—oh no, no, no—it is out of the +question!"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's little hands seemed to turn to ice in Mrs. Halcombe's +grasp, yet there was about her no other sign of strong emotion.</p> + +<p>"Mother, suppose it is not a question of your doing at all? Suppose it +is God's will for me? Suppose He is taking me from you just as plainly +as if He did it through death? After all, mother dear, this would not +be so bad as that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gwen—hush!"</p> + +<p>"But I don't think I must hush. The matter has to be looked in the +face. I felt all in a whirl at the first moment, but since I came up +here I have been trying to weigh it quietly."</p> + +<p>"Your father told me to say that there must be no hasty decision," said +Mrs. Halcombe, in a tone of keen suffering.</p> + +<p>"No hasty decision either way. That is what he means. You want to say +at once that it cannot be, but I want you to look at both sides of the +question. Mother, suppose we turn from this—suppose we say 'No' to Lady +Halcot's offer, and refuse her help. What is to become of us all?"</p> + +<p>"God will take care of us," faltered Mrs. Halcombe.</p> + +<p>"Yes, in His own way. But how if this is His way? If we refuse it, +because it is not exactly according to our mind, have we any right to +expect more—any right to think He will work a miracle to support us? +Think, mother, there will be absolutely almost nothing to live upon. +Suppose father finds a clerkship of one or two hundred a year! It would +hardly put bread into our mouths—yet he is not likely to do better. It +has been hard work enough to drag along upon three hundred and eighty. +But fancy what it would be with less than half that—and we don't even +know that father would have so much as half. If no alternative had +come, I would say with you to the last, that we must trust on, and that +God would help us. I know He would, mother. But if the help comes, and +we fling it away, how can we still look up, and believe that He will +arrange for our needs?"</p> + +<p>"It cannot be right to give you up—it cannot be, Gwen!" Mrs. Halcombe +murmured in answer.</p> + +<p>"If it were a question of my being married, you would not feel so. You +would give me up quite happily then. This isn't so very different, +after all;" and Gwendoline tried to smile. "You will know that I am +well cared for, and that I have a comfortable home. And I shall have +the great joy of feeling that you are all getting along in comfort, +without the terrible pull that it has been of late. Five hundred a year +isn't wealth for a family of twelve, but it is more than we have ever +had yet; and you will be one less in number; and Victor will soon be +earning more; and father will try to get some work. Only think how well +off you will all be. Why, you will grow positively luxurious!—Only not +so luxurious as I shall be at the Leys. I Wonder if Lady Halcot will +give me a lady's maid all to myself. You see, I am to be her adopted +child, not her lady-companion, mother. I shall not know myself, in such +a grand position."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's bright manner almost deceived her mother, despite her +extreme paleness.</p> + +<p>"Gwen, do you really wish to go? I was forgetting that part of the +matter. You would have every comfort and luxury, as you say. It may be +selfishness on my part to wish to keep you from such a life."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline made no answer to this, but her mother, watching steadily +the quivering white lips, knew what the silence meant.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Gwen," she whispered. "I understand now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, don't—we must be brave!" half-sobbed Gwendoline. "It has +to be—it must be."</p> + +<p>"I do not feel so, Gwennie. If you wished to go, I could not wish to +keep you back. But I know Lady Halcot, and I cannot believe you would +be happy with her; and to send you there merely for our gain is out of +the question. Don't be afraid, my darling. We will live on dry bread, +and work our fingers to the bone, sooner than part with our Gwen."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline allowed herself to be kissed and comforted, and did not +attempt immediately to controvert her mother's words. But when her +tears were dried the look of resolution had not passed from her eyes.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_10">CHAPTER X.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>WHAT HAD TO BE.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>RUTH took a different view of the matter, as was perhaps to be expected +from her sensible and matter-of-fact nature.</p> + +<p>"Of course I have nothing to do with deciding," she said, when +called into consultation that same evening by her father and mother +and sister; "but if I am to give my opinion honestly, I certainly +do think that to throw aside such an opening would be the height of +absurdity—almost a sort of madness. It is not as if we should lose +Gwendoline. Mother talks about 'giving her up,' but there is no 'giving +up' in the question, that I can see. She will belong to us still, just +as much as ever, and we shall see her now and then."</p> + +<p>"Once in two years, Ruth," Mrs. Halcombe said mournfully.</p> + +<p>"Of course that is rather seldom," admitted Ruth. "But very likely +Lady Halcot will make it once a year, as soon as she sees that we do +not pester her in any way. Meantime we shall know that Gwen has every +imaginable comfort and pleasure, and Gwen will know that we are all +getting along, with enough to eat and to wear. Surely that is better +than our all being reduced to a miserable struggle for bread. Mother +talks about our working our fingers to the bone for the sake of keeping +Gwen with us. I am willing enough to do my share, but Gwen would be the +last to like to do her share."</p> + +<p>"Ruth!" her father said reproachfully. He had said little yet, +apparently preferring to hear others' opinions before giving his own.</p> + +<p>"I mean her share of needlework, father. Gwen has certainly no gift +in that direction, and she detests it with all her heart. Besides, +to think of supporting a family of twelve by needlework is absurd. +And as for keeping Gwen with us by any amount of work, it is just an +impossibility. If she does not go to Lady Halcot's, we shall both have +to go out as governesses. I had quite made up my mind to that, before +Lady Halcot's letter came. But if the offer had come to me, I would +very much rather live at the Leys than be a governess, even though I +might not be free to come home quite so often."</p> + +<p>Ruth's severe common sense was taking effect, and she saw this in the +expression of her mother's face.</p> + +<p>"Besides," she added, after a little pause, "I do think that poor old +lady must be dreadfully lonely in her big house, with nobody belonging +to her. It is her own fault, of course. Still, if mother is as fond of +Lady Halcot as we have always thought, I should think she would like +Gwen to be there particularly."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Halcombe received this little fling meekly. "Yes, Ruthie," she +said; "for Lady Halcot's own sake I could like nothing better. But I +must think about Gwen first. I do not know whether Gwen could be happy +there. Lady Halcot is very stern and sharp—and the matter, once done, +cannot be undone."</p> + +<p>"Mother, I think one may be happy anywhere, if God has put one there," +Gwendoline said softly. "And I think I should make Lady Halcot fond of +me."</p> + +<p>"As to happiness," quoth Ruth, "isn't it the very kind of life that +Gwen has often wished for—away from London crowds, and near sea and +country, with plenty of money and leisure, and no children?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's eyes were blinded with tears. "Oh, Ruth, you need not have +thrown that at me just now."</p> + +<p>"Why? I don't mean anything unkind," said Ruth, her rather obtuse +sensibilities stirred by Gwendoline's look of pain. "I am sure you have +often said you wished it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Halcombe drew his chair a little nearer, and leant forward gravely.</p> + +<p>"Ruth has had her say. Now listen to me," he said. "I have tried from +the first to take a dispassionate view of the question, praying to be +guided into a right decision. We must not be swayed by mere feelings. +The thought of parting with our Gwen is a very painful one, but, as +Ruth truly says, the parting probably must take place, one way or +another. My first impulse was like yours, Nellie, that we could not +send our child away for our own advantage. But remember two things. +First, it is not for our advantage only. Gwen is one of ten, and the +good of the other nine has to be considered. Would it be lawful to +sacrifice the prospects of those nine for our own selfish gratification +in keeping Gwen, even if we could hope to keep her ultimately? +Secondly, we have to think of Gwen herself. This is an opening which +probably means a life of ease and of comparative wealth, in place of +long years of struggling in poverty as an artist. Putting altogether +on one side other questions involved, could we rightly refuse this for +her? Gwen may shrink from leaving us; but I, her father, should shrink +yet more from keeping her, under the circumstances."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline broke into his words suddenly. "Father, it isn't for my own +sake that I want to go."</p> + +<p>"I know it, dear; but my thought has been for you at least as much +as for the others. There is yet another view of the matter, which I +believe Gwen has already considered. Nellie, we have had for days past +a heavy trouble impending—a very terrible perplexity as to our future. +We have pleaded in prayer with our God that He would show us where to +walk—would supply us with some means of livelihood. Here is, or here +seems to be, the response. A way is plainly opened. Shall we dare to +refuse it?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Halcombe was weeping quietly, but she shook her head; and all knew +that the matter was decided.</p> + +<p>"Still," Mr. Halcombe said, after a pause, as if with a sudden sense +of reluctance, "still—if Gwennie were doubtful or unwilling, we would +hesitate—would consult others. Mr. Selwyn, for instance."</p> + +<p>But Gwendoline lifted her head, and looked straight at him with bright +clear eyes.</p> + +<p>"I am not doubtful, and I am quite willing," she said. "I have known +from the first moment that it must be—'must' be, father. How could we +decide otherwise? I don't think it is for my own sake that I wish to +go, though of course I know it will be a life of ease. I know I have +complained sometimes—at least, I suppose I have,—but indeed my choice +could never be to live away from you all—and from mother." Gwendoline's +voice grew husky. "But this is not choice. I don't see that any choice +at all is left me. Nothing short of your positive command could make +it right for me to refuse to go. How could I deliberately drag you all +down to such miserable poverty?"</p> + +<p>There was no more discussion about the manner of answer to be sent to +Lady Halcot, though by common consent the letter itself was deferred +till the next day. "I am not sure that it would not be wise for you to +have a few words with Mr. Selwyn before writing," Mr. Halcombe said.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later the "few words" became unexpectedly an immediate +possibility. A caller's knock was followed by the entrance of Mr. +Selwyn himself, in so hearty a mood of pleasure and satisfaction, that +Mr. and Mrs. Halcombe began to wake up to the fact of something good +having really happened. He had received a letter from Lady Halcot that +afternoon, stating her intentions with respect to Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"I could not have wished anything better," the kindhearted lawyer +said. "My wife is delighted, and she would let me have no peace till +I came off to congratulate you all. It is rather late for a call, but +to-morrow I shall not have a spare moment. Of course there can be no +question about acceptance of the offer. It does away with all your most +pressing anxieties, and places Gwendoline at once in a position of +positive affluence."</p> + +<p>He quite forgot at the moment that he always called her "Miss Halcombe" +to her face. "As for the future, though Lady Halcot will not exactly +pledge herself to anything, she evidently wishes it to be understood +that Gwendoline will be well provided for."</p> + +<p>"'Handsomely,' she says," observed Mr. Halcombe.</p> + +<p>And Gwendoline gave her letter to Mr. Selwyn. He read it deliberately.</p> + +<p>"Ah yes—just so. Better keep that letter, Mr. Halcombe. Yes—just +so—exactly. There is merely the little condition of implicit obedience."</p> + +<p>"I shall always do what Lady Halcot tells me, if it is not wrong," said +Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"Precisely so," repeated the lawyer, with a slightly dubious +expression. "That is all that you can say—of course. Your mother has no +doubt told you that Lady Halcot is an old lady of peculiar temperament. +It is well to avoid little differences."</p> + +<p>"Gwen is not argumentative," said Mr. Halcombe, with a fond look at her.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_11">CHAPTER XI.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>AMID NEW SCENES.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"THE sore part of the matter is that it seems to be sent upon me as a +sort of judgment, Honor."</p> + +<p>"What can you possibly mean, Gwen?" Honora Dewhurst asked, with an +accent of astonishment.</p> + +<p>The two stood side by side upon a broad platform, near the train which +was soon to bear Gwendoline Halcombe to her new home. They were early, +for Mr. Halcombe was a nervous man as to journeys, and he always +insisted on a start being made about twenty minutes sooner than was +necessary. Neither he nor Victor were free to accompany Gwendoline +to the station, and Ruth had a cold, and Gwendoline had implored her +mother not to come. She could not bear the thought of "that" parting +being in public. So Honora Dewhurst undertook to see her off.</p> + +<p>The leave-takings were thus over, and Gwendoline had borne herself +bravely through them. Now she only looked white and quiet, with a +glitter of unshed tears in her brown eyes, which had a fixed look, as +if hardly seeing anything around. She had stood about absently, while +Honora saw to her luggage.</p> + +<p>"You will not care to take your seat yet," Honora said, when the little +business was done. "Shall we go into the waiting-room, or stay here?"</p> + +<p>And Gwendoline, instead of answering, broke out with her remark about +"the sore part of the matter."</p> + +<p>"What can you possibly mean, Gwen?"</p> + +<p>"I mean just what I say. It is like a sort of judgment upon me. I don't +know whether I have complained in words often,—I think not,—but in my +heart I have often wanted to have things different. I have been so +tired of the crowd and the noise and the worry, and sometimes I have so +longed to be quiet, and to have freedom of leisure and thought for my +painting—not to be incessantly driven along to do my utmost, and still +to feel that our heads were really never quite above water. Sometimes +out of doors I have looked at others driving past, in their comfort +and ease, and wondered over the difference between their lives and +mine. Not enviously, exactly—for I have never really wished to choose +for myself, or to have what was not God's will for me. But it has been +cloudiness and murmuring. It hasn't been a spirit of perfect content."</p> + +<p>"I wonder how many of us have attained to 'perfect content,' my dear +child," Honora said.</p> + +<p>"You have, for one. But don't you see what I mean? I 'have' murmured, +Honor. It is of no use to deny the fact. I have not loved God's will +for me. And now it seems so terribly as if He had taken me at my word, +and had given me what I craved—in displeasure. I can't talk about this +to anybody except you; but it presses on me constantly."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image008" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"><a id="Image008"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image008.jpg" alt="image008"></a></figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>LADY HALCOT'S KEEN BLACK EYES</b><br> +<b>RAN SWIFTLY OVER GWENDOLINE.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"A child can't always read his father's motives. Don't be too sure as +to the 'displeasure.'"</p> + +<p>"But if it were—"</p> + +<p>"If it were,—plead at His feet for more grace for the future, and cling +the closer to Christ. Don't echo Peter's cry of 'Depart from me.' The +more sinful we are, the more we need Him."</p> + +<p>"But if He should have sent this in anger, without His blessing!"</p> + +<p>Honora slipped an arm through her friend's, and spoke slowly—"Gwen, you +are overwrought and upset to-day, and this is temptation to unworthy +thoughts of your loving God. Suppose it were sent in displeasure for +the past,—what does it mean but that He wills to draw you through +chastening nearer to Himself? But I don't feel at all sure that it +is so. You have been overworked and tried, and trouble has pressed +heavily, and you have all prayed that help might come, and here is the +answer. Surely it is not all chastening, Gwen. You are to have a happy +home, and the joy of knowing that those dearest to you will be living a +life of comparative ease,—through your going away. Some pain comes with +the joy, of course, but isn't that what one always has to expect?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—if I have not brought it on myself," murmured Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"Suppose you have,—since you are bent upon that view of the +matter,—what then? If you have yielded to temptation, He will +forgive you for the past, and will strengthen you for the future. +I can't understand that sort of suspicious spirit in one of His +children,—always fancying that He is acting in displeasure. Of course +there are times when He must do so, and I don't deny it; but I do say +we don't know one-hundredth part of His pitying tenderness towards us. +David's way of looking at things was very different: 'He will not be +always chiding,'—that is the Prayer-Book version, and I love it, Gwen. +'He crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies.' 'The Lord is +gracious and full of compassion; slow to anger, and of great mercy.' +Try for more of that trusting spirit."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's face changed, and two large tears fell heavily.</p> + +<p>"Yes—now you will feel better. It is of no use trying to persuade +yourself that pain is not pain. You cannot but feel the parting."</p> + +<p>"It is my mother—chiefly," said Gwendoline sorrowfully. "If Ruth were +different! Mother and I have always been one. Ruth is very good, and +she will do anything for anybody, but she does not understand. Honor, +you will go in sometimes, to cheer my mother."</p> + +<p>"By talking about you. Yes, certainly. I must say a word to you now +about something else. Our time is nearly up. You know I generally run +down to Riversmouth for a night or more, at least once or twice a year."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Honor, when you do, be sure to let me know beforehand."</p> + +<p>"I'll see. But one word, Gwen. Remember, you will be Lady Halcot's +adopted child, a very 'grand young person' indeed, as my good old +uncle would say; and I shall only be a poor artist, niece of a retired +tradesman."</p> + +<p>"Honor! As if that could make any difference in my love for you," cried +Gwendoline indignantly.</p> + +<p>"My dear child, I quite understand. It will make no difference in your +love. But you will not be your own mistress, and it may not be in your +power to see anything of me. For it will be your plain duty to obey +Lady Halcot in everything—short of what is wrong."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's cheeks were burning. "That would be wrong—to forsake a +friend, my best and dearest friend."</p> + +<p>"You will not forsake me. You and I are friends for life—for more than +merely this lower life, I hope. We will love and trust one another to +the last. That is just what I want you to understand. If you never come +near me, never write to me, and pass me in the street without a smile +or bow, I shall not be pained, for I shall trust you still. I shall +know you are not acting by your own choice, but only in obedience to +Lady Halcot. Mind, darling, I mean it. Now don't!"</p> + +<p>For Gwendoline, brave through all the partings, burst into a passion of +tears.</p> + +<p>"Gwennie, don't break your heart over so small a matter. I tell you +I shall not be even pained. If ever you come and say to me with your +own lips that you have changed, and that you love me no longer, then I +shall be bitterly grieved. Short of that, I will never fail to trust +you. Remember, you owe Lady Halcot a great deal. And, apart from +gratitude, you have to keep things smooth for your mother's sake. +You may or may not be allowed to keep up a correspondence with me. I +am pretty sure you will not be allowed to call upon me at Gladiolus +Cottage. But I shall hear all about you from your mother, and that will +content me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Honor! Honor!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush!" Honor said, as to a troubled child. "I am only +anticipating what will be perfectly natural on her ladyship's part. Now +you have to be good and cheery. Don't let me have to take back a tale +of tears at the last, and don't arrive at the Leys with red eyes on any +account. Come—there is the bell, and you must get in. First class!—you +'grand young person.' Good-bye, my own Gwen."</p> + +<p>Others were pressing into the same compartment, and Honora had to step +back. Further conversation was impossible. Gwendoline gazed and kissed +her hand to the last, and Honora walked rapidly away, drawing down her +veil to conceal something which till that moment she had resolutely +restrained. For Honora's was a lonely life. She had no near relatives, +and few friends; and Gwendoline had been her one sunbeam of earthly +delight.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline shed no more tears. It was by no means her usual fashion to +yield to strong feeling in public. She sat quietly in her corner, pale +and sad, looking out upon the rushing landscape, thinking much upon +the faces she had left, and speculating somewhat on the new phase of +existence which lay before her.</p> + +<p>"I shall need to live very near to God, if I am to keep straight at +Riversmouth," was the conclusion to which she came. "I think there must +be great danger in ease and wealth—especially for me. I shall want so +much 'keeping,' not to grow cold or careless. But mother and father and +Honor will pray for me."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>With this thought in her mind, she reached the station nearest to +Riversmouth. Her first instinctive move, as she descended, was to +seek her luggage; but a drab-liveried footman of deferential manners +presented himself, in readiness to take all trouble off her hands.</p> + +<p>"Miss Halcombe?" he said inquiringly; and then, "Her ladyship is +waiting. How many boxes, if you please?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline began to wake up to the change in her manner of life. She +was vaguely conscious that her single trunk, even with the addition of +a small packing-case containing her paintings, appeared to the tall +footman a most moderate amount of luggage; but he was far too well-bred +to show his thoughts, and Gwendoline had little of the shallow pride +which troubles itself unnecessarily about appearances. She was quite +aware also, and equally without distress, that her scanty wardrobe +would prove by no means in keeping with her new position. But Lady +Halcot, when sending money for her journey, had written,—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "You need not mind about dress. I will see to that. Come just as you +are."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>And Gwendoline had obeyed this injunction literally. She only had +two dresses, and she wore the best of the two, a simple costume of +navy-blue serge, together with what was really a very neat and quite +attractive hat.</p> + +<p>The handsome landau, with two thoroughbred bays, stood outside the +station; and Lady Halcot sat alone in it, muffled up in furs still, +despite the mild spring weather, and seeming half-buried beneath the +piles of the ponderous scarlet-lined rug. She scanned the station-door +persistently, till a girlish figure came quietly out and stood beside +the carriage, waiting, as if for a welcome. Lady Halcot's keen black +eyes ran swiftly over Gwendoline from head to foot, and Gwendoline's +pale face flushed brightly, as she lifted her eyes with a look of +wistful anxiety.</p> + +<p>Those who knew her ladyship's turns of expression would have judged her +to be well satisfied with the brief inspection. But it was not Lady +Halcot's way to show her feelings. She merely said, "How do you do?" +putting out two fingers of a kid-clothed bony hand. "I hope you have +had a comfortable journey."</p> + +<p>The footman held open the carriage-door, and, in obedience to a slight +gesture from Lady Halcot, Gwendoline stepped in.</p> + +<p>"You have given orders about Miss Halcombe's luggage?" Lady Halcot said.</p> + +<p>"I have, my lady. It will be sent immediately."</p> + +<p>"That will do."</p> + +<p>And they were off, passing first a few streets of the little country +town, then bowling with smooth rapidity through high roads and narrow +lanes, between green hedgerows. Gwendoline leant back against the soft +cushions—with the heavy rug over her knees, and the upright drab backs +of coachman and footman rising, square and motionless, in front, and +the little old lady, with Roman nose and severe lips, seated silently +by her side.</p> + +<p>"What would mother feel to see me now?" she thought. "This is +very comfortable. How lazy I shall grow!" And a half-smile broke +unconsciously over her face.</p> + +<p>"Are you always called Gwendoline at home?" asked Lady Halcot suddenly.</p> + +<p>The smile faded. "No,—'Gwen' generally," was the answer.</p> + +<p>"You will be Gwendoline in future. I object to abbreviations."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline wondered what would come next.</p> + +<p>"Whom are you supposed to resemble among your relatives?" Lady Halcot +inquired after a pause, in the same abrupt fashion.</p> + +<p>"My father," Gwendoline said at once.</p> + +<p>"Quite a mistake. You are not in the least like him—like what he was as +a young man."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline was surprised, for she had never before heard the fact of +this resemblance questioned.</p> + +<p>"My mother always seems to think so," she said.</p> + +<p>"Entirely a mistake," repeated Lady Halcot; and there was another break.</p> + +<p>"However, it does not signify. Likeness is very often a matter of +expression, sometimes a matter of fancy. You are a very pretty girl, +Gwendoline. Of course you know this, so I shall not make you vain by +telling you so."</p> + +<p>The old lady looked hard at Gwendoline to see the effect of her words. +She could not understand the expression that came over those brown +eyes, an expression certainly more sorrowful than gratified.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline said gently, after a moment's thought, "I suppose I am, Lady +Halcot; but sometimes I wish people would not tell me so."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"It would be better for me. I don't want to be made to think about +myself."</p> + +<p>For full five minutes Lady Halcot was dumb. Then the silence was broken +by the two simultaneously, a remark breaking from each at exactly the +same instant. Lady Halcot had been turning over Gwendoline's words in +her mind; and Gwendoline's gaze had been roving about the landscape.</p> + +<p>"Gwendoline, are you a very religious person?"</p> + +<p>"The sea! Oh, Lady Halcot,—the sea!"</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot's expression relaxed, and she put aside her own question, +following it up by another in a different tone: "You admire the sea?"</p> + +<p>"I love it dearly. For years I have had a dream of living near the sea. +It always looked like perfect happiness."</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot was certainly pleased. She said with positive cordiality, +"I hope you will be happy;" and began pointing out whatever was worth +noting in the views.</p> + +<p>Her question remained unanswered, and at the time Gwendoline scarcely +took in the meaning of it; yet the words afterwards haunted her a good +deal.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_12">CHAPTER XII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>GWEN'S POSSESSIONS.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"NONE of these are fit to wear. They can be given away at once," said +Lady Halcot decisively.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline had passed a night in her new home, and had risen refreshed, +despite some wakeful periods of restless thought. It seemed to her +already a very long time since she had come to this place. That less +than twenty hours of her residence at the Leys had yet elapsed was +inconceivable.</p> + +<p>She had made acquaintance with the massive building, reared in far +back days by Lady Halcot's forefathers, passing through rooms and +ante-chambers and corridors, till mind and memory became confused. +She had gone the round of the stiff ancestral portraits in the state +dining-room, privately wondering which might be termed the ugliest; +for the Halcots were by no means a handsome race. She had stood in the +library, examining the rows of calf-bound volumes, hoping to be allowed +free access to the same. She had had a glimpse of the wide-spreading +gardens and extensive hothouses, and had paced one of the broad +terraces, in full view of the blue ocean.</p> + +<p>Also, Gwendoline had already won the hearts of two or three of the +servants by her gentle manner of speaking, more especially the heart +of Spurrell, the maid appointed to wait upon herself. She had made +acquaintance with the pallid and mild-mannered Miss Withers, and had +taken herself severely to task for an irresistible sense of distrust +and almost aversion towards that placid individual. Miss Withers +treated her with such marked and humble politeness! Why could not +she like Miss Withers better? Moreover, she had seen the unfortunate +Conrad, as usual spending half his day at the Leys, and as usual +in difficulties. Conrad Withers did not live in the house, but he +was expected to occupy a certain room during certain hours, and he +received liberal remuneration for a small amount of toil. Miss Withers +had set her heart on seeing him reside at the Leys, in the capacity +of confidential secretary to her ladyship; but this aim was as yet +far from being attained to. Lady Halcot endured him, and no more. +Gwendoline had exchanged a few sentences with the young man, pitying +his bashfulness, and Conrad's head was already turned.</p> + +<p>Breakfast had been long ended, when Gwendoline Was summoned to her own +room, there to find Lady Halcot and Spurrell, the whole of her small +wardrobe having been spread out for inspection.</p> + +<p>This room was one of the pleasantest parts of Gwendoline's new life, +being large, yet not too large, with a sunshiny aspect, flowers without +and within, choice engravings upon the walls, and abundant comfort in +furniture and fittings-up. Opening into the bedroom was a small and +pretty boudoir, with a davenport and easy-chair near the fireplace, +and an easel in the bow-window. Gwendoline could not but be delighted +with these surroundings, and grateful for the thoughtful care thus +evidenced. She had passed on the whole a very pleasant morning. But it +was something of a shock to her now to hear the decisive order, "All +these may be given away."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline said nothing, but her face protested eloquently. Lady Halcot +gave her a careless glance, and continued, "The dress and bonnet that +Miss Halcombe travelled in will do until she has others. These shoes +can be made presentable with good rosettes, but really there is nothing +else. You have the Halcot foot, I see, Gwendoline,—high-instepped. No +evening dress, is there?"</p> + +<p>"Mother said I ought to get one, but you told me to come exactly as I +was," said Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"Quite right," said Lady Halcot. "Spurrell, you may fetch the hats and +bonnets to try on."</p> + +<p>Then, when the maid was gone, she repeated, "Quite right. I did not +realize that you would not possess a single evening dress, but you did +as I told you. That is simply what I expect, and what I shall expect."</p> + +<p>The tone was not hard, but it lacked tenderness. Lady Halcot stood +near the bed, a little shrunken figure, scarcely up to Gwendoline's +shoulder, yet with an indefinable air of dignity and command about her +small person. Gwendoline debated quickly in her mind what to say, and +ended by saying nothing.</p> + +<p>"That is what I expect of you," repeated Lady Halcot gravely. +"Precisely the same implicit obedience that I would expect from a child +of my own."</p> + +<p>"I should be very sorry to go against your will in anything," +Gwendoline said, her voice trembling slightly. "I will try to please +you, indeed."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I believe you are a good girl. If I had not thought so, I should +not have been so ready to adopt you."</p> + +<p>"A good girl," in Lady Halcot's phraseology, meant "a girl who will do +as she is bidden." Gwendoline understood it so.</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot turned as Spurrell re-entered, having an armful of +bonnet-boxes. "I had these sent in readiness," she said. "There is +a chip hat with an ostrich feather, which I believe will become you +very well, Gwendoline. Spurrell will find it immediately. I am not so +sure about the bonnets. You must try them on. The dressmaker will be +here in an hour to take orders. I should wish you to have two evening +dresses, one of a soft blue material, which will suit you nicely, +and another of white, trimmed with pink. The blue will be for home +evening wear, ordinarily. I had some idea of a black velvet and crimson +walking-costume, but it is becoming too warm. I have chosen a pretty +brown stuff for every-day wear, and you must have jacket and hat to +match. The second walking-dress I have not yet decided on, but I am +rather thinking of grey,—silk and other material mixed. When you are +thoroughly well set up, I shall consider about giving you an allowance, +but it is better that you should first learn something of my tastes. +That is the hat, Spurrell. Put it on. Now look at yourself in the +glass, Gwendoline. My foresight has proved true, I think. How do you +like it?"</p> + +<p>"It is very pretty, thank you," Gwendoline said.</p> + +<p>"We will decide upon that, without hesitation. I don't like these +bonnets, Spurrell. I fancied there were others."</p> + +<p>"I may have overlooked a box, my lady. I will go and see."</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot moved towards the bed. "Your little writing-case and +work-bag are very shabby, Gwendoline. I will supply you with fresh ones +immediately, and these can be sent away."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline was startled. "If you please, may I not keep them?" she +asked. "I have had them so long."</p> + +<p>"That is the very thing. They are worn-out."</p> + +<p>"But, Lady Halcot, my mother gave me the writing-case, and Ruth made +the bag. May I keep them, please?"</p> + +<p>"No," Lady Halcot said quietly; and she took both into her own hands.</p> + +<p>"I will put them out of sight," pleaded Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot looked steadily at her, and repeated, "No."</p> + +<p>"But they are mine!"</p> + +<p>"That may be. And you are mine now."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline had a hard struggle. Not sorrow only, but passion too rose +high, for this seemed to her unnecessary and tyrannical. The cry of +"Oh, help me, help me!" went up from her heart, and help came.</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot, watching, saw the flush subside, and the face grow calm.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she said.</p> + +<p>"It must be as you wish," said Gwendoline, in a low voice. "One moment, +please."</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot yielded both into Gwendoline's outstretched hands. She +would not have done so ordinarily. Gwendoline held them lovingly, +pressed them to her lips, and then gave them back to Lady Halcot, two +bright drops having fallen on the rubbed leather of the case.</p> + +<p>"You are a silly child," Lady Halcot said, not in a tone of displeasure.</p> + +<p>She left the room, and returned almost immediately, bearing a +silk-lined work-basket and a beautiful little Russian leather +writing-case, both furnished with silver and polished steel fittings.</p> + +<p>"These were already waiting for you," she said.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline received them with mingled pain and pleasure, touched, yet +not quite comforted.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>TO AND ABOUT HONORA.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="letter"> +<span style="margin-left: 25.5em;">"THE LEYS, <em>Thursday.</em></span><br> +<br> + "MY OWN DEAR HONOR,—Just a week since I came,—and it seems like three +months at least!<br> +<br> + "I would not write sooner. It seemed better to wait, and not to give +you mere first impressions too hastily. Mother promised to let you +hear of my safe arrival. Lady Halcot has given me leave to write home +regularly once a week; and I suppose this is as much as I could expect +under the circumstances. Nothing has been said yet about correspondence +with friends. I do not know whether I am to expect restrictions there.<br> +<br> + "My new residence—I cannot quite call it 'home' yet—is very beautiful, +Honor. How you would delight in the garden and conservatories! +Sometimes the whole seems like a dream to me, and I find myself +expecting to wake up in the dear old London house, and I do not quite +know how to bear the pain of separation,—and then again it comes over +me with a rush of joy that things will be so different there now. I +had a letter from my mother this morning, and she says they feel quite +rich. Of course my father has his full income until Midsummer; and the +first quarter from Lady Halcot's settlement had just come in; and also, +dear father had heard of something for himself after Midsummer, which +will bring in enough to be a real additional help, though very far from +enough for us all if I had stayed at home. I know all this is safe with +you.<br> +<br> + "So I have a great deal to make me happy and thankful, have I not?<br> +<br> + "Lady Halcot is very good and kind. She is not loving in manner, like +my own dear mother, and of course I miss that. But she has lavished +gifts upon me,—everything that I can possibly want in the way of +clothes and knickknacks. It seems quite wrong that so much should be +spent on my single self. One of my new hats had a ticket hanging to it, +and I saw £3. 10s. marked. I felt positively guilty, remembering all +the home needs. Yet I dare not protest.<br> +<br> + "Sometimes I think Lady Halcot is already growing fond of me. People +show fondness so differently. She never kisses me except once coldly +night and morning, and never puts on an affectionate manner; yet she +shows constant interest in everything that I do, and overlooks me +incessantly. I have to get up exactly at half-past seven, and to be in +bed precisely at half-past ten; and I am made to read one hour, to work +another hour, to walk a third hour, as she thinks desirable; while, if +I am half an hour absent, without being sent away, she always inquires +what I have been doing. She even chooses books for me, and prescribes +the order in which I am to read them.<br> +<br> + "This sort of supervision seems of course a little strange, after my +London independence. The eldest of ten naturally learns to stand alone +early; and I seem now to have gone suddenly into leading-strings. But I +know it is all meant kindly; and I shall grow used to it in time.<br> +<br> + "I have not seen much of Riversmouth yet. Lady Halcot sends me into +the grounds for an hour every morning; but I do not go beyond them. +She does not like me to walk about alone; and I don't think she quite +understands my love for the shore, or the delight that a wander +there has for a Londoner. In the afternoon we either go out in the +pony-carriage, or else we have a state-drive in the large carriage, +paying calls, and sometimes seeing very pretty gardens and pleasant +people. She introduces me everywhere as 'my young cousin,' occasionally +adding, 'and adopted child;' so I am most kindly received.<br> +<br> + "I must confess I do sometimes long to jump out of our stately chariot, +and to have a good scramble up the banks and over the fields! But I try +not to give way to such feelings. Yesterday we passed a lovely bank of +wildflowers, and I could not help exclaiming. Lady Halcot asked if I +wanted some, and she actually had the carriage stopped, and made the +footman gather me a handful. It was nice to have them, only of course +not quite like getting them for myself.<br> +<br> + "Is it not strange that I should have so often thirsted for a life of +more freedom, with plenty of room, and plenty of air, and plenty of +money, and absence of noise and crowd, and not to feel always obliged +to toil on, whatever my mood might be; and now these have all come to +me, and yet they are not freedom! My London life was a life of greater +liberty.<br> +<br> + "You would not let me say, Honor dear, that God had taken me at my +word, and sent me my will in displeasure. But I do think I must be +meant to learn a lesson from all this,—a lesson against the sin of +murmuring. I have been looking out in my Bible, the last morning +or two, all about the different murmurings and complainings of the +children of Israel; and it does seem to me as if there was almost no +sin of which they were so often guilty, or which had to be more sharply +punished. One is apt to think that grumbling at little things in +every-day life is a small matter, but I am sure it is not a small sin +in God's sight. I am praying hard now for the great gift of a contented +spirit, and you must pray for it with me, Honor,—for myself, I mean. +I know now that God can see exactly what is best for me, and I do not +want to have any longer even a wish to choose for myself. He can tell +exactly the discipline that I need; and I would not, if I could, lift a +finger to keep it off. I have found out more this week of my own pride +and wilfulness than I ever found out before, and yet I have been so +happy the last two or three days, in the thought that He is training +me, and that He loves me too well to let any foolish shrinking on my +part hinder the training. And I want not even to shrink; I want to have +those things sent which will draw me nearer and nearer to Christ.<br> +<br> + "Forgive all this talk about self. It is only what I would say if we +were together. I cannot write so freely to anybody else. Mother would +be distressed, fancying me unhappy; but you will understand exactly +what I mean.<br> +<br> + "I had a real treat this morning. Lady Halcot took me in the +pony-carriage to the Phillips' cottage, to see little Arthur. He is +looking quite rosy and well, and his sister is such a nice respectable +girl, very lame, but a capital needlewoman. Lady Halcot has promised +to give her some work, and she has given me leave to pay for little +Arthur's schooling. I am to have 'such' an allowance for my clothes,—it +quite frightens me.<br> +<br> + "I should have liked to kiss the dear little boy as he came creeping +up close to me,—his sister saying, 'Artie's always talking about you, +miss, and how you saved his life,'—but I did not quite dare, with Lady +Halcot sitting there. She is kind to the poor on her estate, but she +never unbends in manner.<br> +<br> + "I must not forget to tell you that I have received a medal from the +Humane Society—partly Mr. Fosbrook's doing, I suspect. He came in +yesterday, and was very pleasant; but he said something to Lady Halcot +about my not looking strong, and directly he was gone, she desired me +to go to my room and lie down for an hour. So you see your Gwen is well +taken care of.<br> +<br> + "Not a word so far about Miss Withers, the companion. The truth is, +I am rather at a loss what to say. She is a sort of neutral-tinted +individual, with an air of humble politeness, and an apparent +forgetfulness of her own existence, which, if genuine, would be—perhaps +I ought to be able to say are—positively beautiful. Yet I do not like +her; I cannot tell why. She seems invaluable to Lady Halcot. Sometimes +I wish she would not be quite so invaluable. I should so like to be +useful to Lady Halcot, but not a loophole is left to me. Watch as +may for opportunities, Miss Withers invariably glides in between and +does what is needed. I have an instinct—perhaps only a fancy—that +she dislikes me, notwithstanding her cordiality. Her nephew is Lady +Halcot's secretary—about as fit for the post as our little Bob. I do +pity him.<br> +<br> + "Only think; I have not touched my painting all this week. The +packing-case is not even opened. An odd sort of laziness has taken +possession of me, and steady work seems impossible. I must try to get +out of this.<br> +<br> + "I am writing to you in my own boudoir, a lovely little room, fit for a +princess. You would not know your Gwen here! Yet I do not feel that I +myself am different. It is only the surroundings that are changed,—the +same stone in a fresh setting. Will it be so when we get to heaven, +Honor? Our very same selves, actually and consciously, only with all +the evil that is in us utterly gone, and with radiant new surroundings! +What a beautiful thought, if one follows it out!"<br> +</p> + +<p>A slight rustle made Gwendoline raise her eyes, and she involuntarily +stood up. Lady Halcot had entered the room unperceived.</p> + +<p>"You seem very much absorbed," her ladyship said.</p> + +<p>"I am only writing to a friend," Gwendoline answered, not without an +inward tremor. Would Lady Halcot demand to see the letter? She wished +she had not written so freely.</p> + +<p>"To what friend?"</p> + +<p>"Honora Dewhurst."</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot waited for more, her little crooked figure in black velvet +standing motionless in the middle of the room, and her black eyes +requesting information.</p> + +<p>"She was a fellow-student of mine in London,—an artist," said +Gwendoline. "We worked side by side very often. I have known her for +years, and she is my dearest friend. She is an orphan, and quite alone +in the world, and she is—oh, so good! I never knew anybody like Honor!"</p> + +<p>The black eyes did not stir from Gwendoline's face. Lady Halcot was +never guilty of staring; but her power of gazing steadily, without a +blink, was remarkable.</p> + +<p>"A young person?" she asked, with a stress on the adjective.</p> + +<p>"Honor is four or five years older than I am."</p> + +<p>"A lady in mind and manners?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, quite—quite!" said Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"And in family?"</p> + +<p>"I believe her father was of a very good family. I never asked her much +about that. And her mother too—only one of her mother's sisters married +a tradesman." Gwendoline hesitated a moment, flushing brightly. "I +ought to tell you that the aunt lives in Riversmouth, with her husband. +Honor and I came down together to see them."</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot's face showed a mixture of gratification and +dissatisfaction. "You are thoroughly honest, I see," she said. "Then +you are acquainted with these people?"</p> + +<p>"With Mr. and Mrs. Widrington,—yes."</p> + +<p>"The acquaintance cannot be continued, in your present position."</p> + +<p>"Honor told me that it would be so," said Gwendoline, in a low voice. +"But may I—please may I write to Honor? She is my oldest and dearest +friend."</p> + +<p>The moment's pause was terrible to Gwendoline. Then the answer +came: "Yes—in moderation; if I find no cause later to rescind this +permission."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," was all Gwendoline could say. Her limbs shook with +agitation.</p> + +<p>"Had you acted towards me with less transparent openness, my decision +might have been different. As it is, you may write occasionally—once a +month or so."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline murmured her thanks anew.</p> + +<p>"I see you intend to conform to my wishes in these matters," Lady +Halcot continued, in her calmly impassive manner. "This is precisely +what I have desired, and I am extremely pleased with you, Gwendoline. +You are a very pretty girl; your manners are thoroughly ladylike; and +you have thus far shown yourself entirely submissive. Continue as you +have begun, and I shall have no fault to find with you."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline broke out suddenly with unpremeditated words. "I can't thank +you for all your kindness, Lady Halcot. I wish I could."</p> + +<p>"There is no need. Gratitude is best shown in the conduct."</p> + +<p>"If only I could feel that I was of any use!" half-whispered +Gwendoline. "If I could be any help or comfort to you! My mother did so +wish—"</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot's glance was checking. "It is a pleasure to me to have you +in the house," she said. "That should be sufficient. I do not forbid +you to speak of your mother, Gwendoline, but the less frequently you do +so the better."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's cheeks were crimson, and her eyes overflowed. "If you did +but know my mother now!" she said almost passionately. "Such a mother +she has been to us! Oh, Lady Halcot, if you could but forgive—could but +feel as you once did!"</p> + +<p>"The two things are not synonymous," said Lady Halcot. "I have long +forgiven Eleanor Halcombe; but I certainly do not feel towards her as I +once did. That is enough on the subject. I wish you now to show me your +paintings. You have brought some specimens, I hope, as I desired you to +do."</p> + +<p>"The packing-case is down-stairs. It has not been opened yet," +Gwendoline said huskily.</p> + +<p>"We will send for it. Ring the bell."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline obeyed, and before long she was kneeling on the ground, +tenderly lifting out one after another of her later studies and +sketches. Memories of the life which lay behind thronged upon her +as she did so, but she would not be again overcome. Lady Halcot +stood near, with an air of keen interest, receiving each in turn +from Gwendoline's hands, placing it in a good position, examining, +criticising minor points, but as yet giving no general verdict. +Gwendoline knew that the verdict would be one of weight when it did +come. Lady Halcot was a connoisseur of no common order.</p> + +<p>"These are all I have brought," Gwendoline said at length.</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot stood gazing still. "That head is very carefully executed," +she said. "You are painstaking, I perceive. But there is not a second +study of the kind. You seem to have done most in the way of landscapes."</p> + +<p>"I never thought I had any gift for heads."</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot went over the whole set again, plainly making up her mind +as to their merits, with an air of quiet competence.</p> + +<p>"Stay,—I see one more in the bottom of the box. You have overlooked it. +Yes, that is the best of all,—by far the best. There is a vigour of +outline here, and a force of colouring, which I miss in the rest. It +will be worth your while to continue painting as something more than a +mere pastime. I began to have doubts on that head."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline hardly knew whether pleasure or pain weighed heaviest. She +said simply, "That is not mine. It is Honora Dewhurst's."</p> + +<p>"Indeed. She has unusual artistic power."</p> + +<p>"I always knew her pictures to be better than mine," said Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"It is not merely a question of their being 'better.' That, in a sense, +one would expect, from her age and her longer practice. This picture +bears the stamp of genius—not merely of talent. Your sketches are very +pretty, and they do great credit to your perseverance. Painting will be +a pleasant occupation and a graceful accomplishment, in your present +sphere. But you could never have made your livelihood as an artist."</p> + +<p>Possibly Lady Halcot found more satisfaction in this thought than +Gwendoline did.</p> + +<p>"And you think Honora may?" asked Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"I do not say she will ever find herself in the first rank of living +artists; time alone can decide that. But undoubtedly she has a gift +worth cultivating to the utmost of her opportunity, a gift by which she +may make her way. Are you disappointed, Gwendoline?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline was looking strangely pale, but she tried to smile. "I ought +to be thankful it is Honor, and not I—"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"She needs it most—now."</p> + +<p>"True. But do not misunderstand me. I have no wish to discourage your +efforts. You have a marked talent for painting, and it is a talent +which ought not to be neglected. All I say is that I do not find tokens +of original genius."</p> + +<p>"Not in mine, but in Honor's?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is that difference," said Lady Halcot, looking rather +curiously at Gwendoline. "Would it be a pleasure to you to request Miss +Dewhurst to paint me a picture to order? I am willing to give twenty +guineas for it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you! How kind!"</p> + +<p>"You may keep your letter open till to-morrow, and I will consider what +subject I should prefer. I think—" Lady Halcot paused, and then asked +again, "Are you very much disappointed?"</p> + +<p>"I ought not to be."</p> + +<p>"Why 'ought not'?"</p> + +<p>"It was conceited of me to expect anything else. And nobody ought to +wish for genius, where God has not given it."</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure about that," Lady Halcot said. "I am sorry for your +disappointment, Gwendoline; but you are not one to wish for other than +an honest opinion, even if I were capable of giving any other."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, indeed!" said Gwendoline. "It is just what I have wished to +have, for years past, from someone who could really know."</p> + +<p>"Have your paintings never been seen by a competent critic?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline moved her head negatively. "I have had a great many kind +things said to me, by fellow-students and others," she said. "I never +knew how much it was all worth."</p> + +<p>"Miss Dewhurst's estimate ought to be worth something."</p> + +<p>"She is my friend," said Gwendoline simply; and Lady Halcot's face +relaxed into a smile.</p> + +<p>"You show some knowledge of human nature," she said. "But that biassing +of one's opinion by one's affection is to me a thing inconceivable—for +myself! My judgment would be altogether the same in the case of friend +or foe. It is a matter apart from personal feeling."</p> + +<p>"With you, but not with most people," Gwendoline said.</p> + +<p>"I believe you are right. Nearly half-past four. We will go down and +have our tea."</p> + +<p>"In a few minutes—if you please—"</p> + +<p>"Very well—you will follow me when you are ready."</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot disappeared, and Gwendoline went slowly into her bedroom, +feeling strangely weary, as if all life and power had died out of +her. She rejoiced for Honor, and she did not for a moment question +the justness of the sentence passed; but this only made pain the more +acute. It was the fading of many bright girlish dreams. Gwendoline +knelt beside the bed, and hid her face, a cloud of deep depression +weighing her down. She was rather given to such moods, but she had +seldom known a darker hour than this.</p> + +<p>Everything seemed going from her,—all the dear old life, with its +trials and hopes, its toils and aspirations. What had she now to +live for? Was it to be with her thenceforward a mere dead level of +self-satisfying, a mere easy existence; without work for others; +without high hopes for the future; without consolation, except in the +knowledge that by her presence at the Leys she was indirectly keeping +the home-circle in comfort?</p> + +<p>"What had she now to live for?" Simply, as before, to carry out the +will of her God in whatever sphere she might be placed.</p> + +<p>"Without high hopes for the future!" But what of the glorious future +beyond and above the present life, where all her highest hopes were +centred? That remained untouched.</p> + +<p>These thoughts came first, followed by a recollection of her late +struggles for submission. Here was a new test. If this were the will +of God, should it not be her will also? Who was Gwendoline Halcombe, +to chafe and fret because He had not seen fit to endow her with great +gifts? Whatever her gifts might be, she had but to lay them at her +Master's feet. Whatever her appointed manner of life, she had still to +honour His Name. What need for other and more selfish aims?</p> + +<p>How time passed Gwendoline did not know. She forgot all about Lady +Halcot and afternoon tea. Victory came to her slowly, and calmness +with it; but the battle, following upon sharp disappointment, had +been exhausting. A sense of nerveless languor seemed to enchain her +faculties, and she knelt on still, from sheer lack of energy to rise. +Kneeling thus, she fell heavily asleep.</p> + +<p>A hand on her shoulder broke into a dream of old days. Gwendoline +sprang up from her crouching posture with a startled exclamation of +"Mother!"</p> + +<p>"Gwendoline!" said Lady Halcot in astonishment.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline was for a moment utterly dazed and colourless. She stood +silently, gathering up her scattered recollections.</p> + +<p>"What made you go to sleep?" inquired Lady Halcot.</p> + +<p>"Was I asleep?" Gwendoline asked in reply.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Sit down there," said Lady Halcot, motioning her to the sofa. +"Miss Withers knocked at your door and could obtain no answer."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry you have had trouble," murmured Gwendoline, not yet quite +coherently.</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot stood looking, with her manner of unimpassioned interest.</p> + +<p>"I'll come down now. Please do not let me keep you," said Gwendoline +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"No. Stay where you are. Your tea shall be brought to you."</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot moved away, and Gwendoline was glad to rest her head among +the cushions.</p> + +<p>By the time Spurrell and a little tray appeared, she had regained her +collectedness; but, to Gwendoline's amazement, Spurrell did not appear +alone. Lady Halcot swept in before her.</p> + +<p>"Do not talk. Take the tea," said Lady Halcot, when Gwendoline would +have protested. "You may leave the tray, Spurrell."</p> + +<p>And presently, as Gwendoline set down the emptied cup, she asked, with +some abruptness, "Do you say your prayers in the middle of the day?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline blushed vividly. "Sometimes," she said, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Then that is what you were doing?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's eyes had their pleading look. "I don't think I was exactly +saying any prayers," she answered gently. "I only felt as if I wanted +help."</p> + +<p>"Help?" repeated Lady Halcot.</p> + +<p>"I could not feel rightly. It was not right to be unhappy because of +what you said. I wanted to be perfectly willing to have whatever God +might will for me."</p> + +<p>"I see no particular objection to your manner of expressing yourself," +said Lady Halcot, after a pause, as if for consideration. "But I have +a very strong dislike to infatuation on religious subjects. I hope you +will keep clear of it."</p> + +<p>"I hope so," was the best answer Gwendoline could think of.</p> + +<p>"Your tea has done you good, but you are pale still. I should like you +to rest on your sofa for half an hour. Then you may come down."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline submitted unquestioningly, and at the end of the half-hour +descended to the drawing-room, white-checked and spiritless still.</p> + +<p>She was no better next day. The weariness which had seized upon her +that afternoon continued, and Gwendoline fought with it in vain. There +were no signs of discontent about her; but the brown eyes had grown +languid and the cheeks colourless, and interest in life seemed to have +forsaken her. She was submissive and grateful, but her face rarely +lighted up with its old flashes of brilliancy. Lady Halcot tried to +recall her to painting; and the effort was a failure. If she walked in +the garden, she had to lie down afterwards, and if she attempted to +read, she dropped asleep.</p> + +<p>"This cannot be allowed to go on," Lady Halcot said one day to Miss +Withers. "I must consult Mr. Fosbrook, if she does not mend soon."</p> + +<p>"I do not imagine there is much amiss," that lady said mildly. +"Except—possibly—a little home-sickness,—quite natural—"</p> + +<p>"I do not believe Miss Halcombe is home-sick," said Lady Halcot. But +she did not like the suggestion, and she did not forget it.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_14">CHAPTER XIV.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>AN ENCOUNTER.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"I AM not ill, I assure you. There is nothing wrong with me. It is only +a spirit of idleness," Gwendoline said, blushing.</p> + +<p>"We must consider how the spirit of idleness can best be met," said +Mr. Fosbrook, in his drily polite manner, glancing from Gwendoline to +Lady Halcot. "I should not imagine idleness to be Miss Halcombe's usual +failing."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, she has an energetic temperament," said Lady Halcot. +"But I do not think she is very strong just now."</p> + +<p>"What are Miss Halcombe's favourite occupations, may I ask?" Mr. +Fosbrook addressed the remark generally.</p> + +<p>"Painting—has been," Gwendoline answered, as the elder lady remained +silent.</p> + +<p>"And is it not now?"</p> + +<p>"I can't take it up yet. I am idle," repeated Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"A little reaction, possibly, from too steady application in the past."</p> + +<p>"That did not occur to me," said Lady Halcot.</p> + +<p>"Don't try the painting at present. You will return to it with more +zest by and by if you give yourself a few weeks of thorough rest first. +Are you fond of riding?"</p> + +<p>"I have never been on horseback."</p> + +<p>"And how about walks? I do not mean mere garden-strolls, but brisk +country walks and seashore rambles."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline coloured brightly, and Lady Halcot did not look quite +pleased. "Miss Halcombe spends at least an hour in the grounds every +morning; but walking seems to fatigue her."</p> + +<p>"I would not think too much of that. Let her take a sharp walk, and, +if necessary, go to sleep afterwards for an hour. Perhaps a morning +on the beach would be a pleasant change sometimes. Are you devoted to +sea-anemones, Miss Halcombe?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know much about them. I should like—" and she paused.</p> + +<p>"I could lend you a little book on the subject." He had noted her +expression of pleasure. "Merely as a guide to your own researches on +the beach."</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot counted all this beside the mark, and she intimated with +dignity that Gwendoline's presence was no longer required. Mr. Fosbrook +stood up to shake hands, remarking, "You had better leave art alone for +a while, and take to nature instead."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline went away, smiling, and the doctor had a somewhat lengthy +interview with Lady Halcot. After his departure, Gwendoline was +recalled.</p> + +<p>"Would you like to go to the shore this morning?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's face said more than words in response.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fosbrook does not think there is much wrong with you, but he +recommends sea-bathing and as much fresh air and exercise as possible. +It is unfortunate that Miss Withers is such a poor walker. You cannot, +of course, go alone into the country, but Mr. Fosbrook assures me +that you will be perfectly safe upon the beach. He thinks you will +enjoy yourself more alone than if I sent Frith as your attendant. I +am willing to try the experiment, trusting to your discretion. I need +scarcely say that you will, of course, exchange words with no one. I +have a great objection to the making of stray acquaintances."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline did her best to put the old lady's mind at rest, and +speedily started upon her solitary ramble, feeling like a caged bird +set free. She had not passed an hour of such enjoyment for many a day. +It was a sunny morning, and the half high tide, as it came in, was +dropping little lines of froth along the pebbles. Small green waves +washed up and broke in quick succession; while the pale blue, farther +out, reflecting the sky, was varied by snatches of grey from passing +clouds. Gwendoline paced to and fro, restlessly happy. The sea never +saddened her, as it saddens some people, but it preached her a sermon +that morning. The great ocean was so hard at work, climbing the little +belt of shore, seeming to expend much energy on a small object, and +gaining that object only to fall back beaten so soon as victory was +obtained. Yet was it thus in reality? If in that hour its appointed +work was done, its Maker's will was accomplished, could the object have +been slight, or the apparent failure real?</p> + +<p>"I think not," Gwendoline murmured half-aloud. "I suppose one ought +to be willing and ready for anything, advance or retreat, conquest or +defeat, no matter what, so long as God chooses it for us. I should like +to feel so about my every-day life,—just to have my whole heart set on +the simple doing of His will."</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot counted her experiment successful when Gwendoline returned, +fresh and hungry, from her ramble.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fosbrook is right," she said. "We must follow his advice."</p> + +<p>And during several successive mornings the same plan was pursued.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline had taken with her one day a little volume of poetry, and +was busily reading, seated on a low rock, the first of that same +jutting series where had taken place her adventure with the little boy. +Voices near made her turn her head mechanically.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline sprang to her feet, as if from an electric shock. "Honor!" +burst from her lips, and she was in Honora Dewhurst's arms.</p> + +<p>The instant's impulse over, Gwendoline woke up to the realities of +her position, and she stepped back, yet not before Honora was gravely +putting her off.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Honor, why didn't you tell me you were coming?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Honor, if this isn't your pretty young friend, Miss Gwendoline +Halcombe! How do you do, my dear,—how 'do' you do? Allow me to +congratulate you heartily on the rise in your circumstances. I hope her +ladyship, Lady Halcot, is quite well."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline stood still in blank dismay. She remembered Lady Halcot's +prohibition,—yet what could she do? Mr. Widrington came near with +outstretched arm and beaming face; and she slowly put her little hand +into his. One shake did not satisfy Mr. Widrington. He moved her hand +up and down energetically, renewing his congratulations with an air of +paternal encouragement.</p> + +<p>"Quite a pleasure to see you again, Miss Halcombe,—I do assure you it +is quite a pleasure. We haven't forgotten you in our little home,—no, +no, my old wifie and I we often talk of you, and she used to think at +first you'd maybe drop in some day, and have a cup of tea with us. But +I said to her, 'No, no, wifie,' says I, 'Miss Halcombe's a grand young +woman now, in a sphere above us, and depend on it she's got other fish +to fry, so we needn't look to see her in our humble dwelling!' And sure +enough we didn't. Not as I'm offended, so don't you think it, Miss +Halcombe. But I'm not sorry for this opportunity to congratulate you +on your prospects, and I'm sure you'll accept the congratulations as +meant."</p> + +<p>Honora, who had been studying Gwendoline's face, spoke suddenly: "Gwen, +is this permitted?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's lips scarcely formed the monosyllable, "No."</p> + +<p>"Then we will say good-bye at once."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Honor, let me have a few words, just a few words with you," +Gwendoline said pleadingly. "I don't think she would mind that, really."</p> + +<p>"I understand." Honora considered for a moment, then turned to her +uncle. "Would you mind leaving us together for two or three minutes?" +she asked. "Miss Halcombe must not stay, and we have not met for so +long."</p> + +<p>"To be sure, my dear, to be sure; it's a true saying that three is no +company. I'll make for the cliff, and wait your leisure; and don't you +hurry yourselves on any account. Women always have plenty to say to one +another. I don't mind if I'm an hour waiting."</p> + +<p>"Kind old man!" Gwendoline murmured, as after another vigorous +hand-shake, he withdrew.</p> + +<p>"Now, Gwen, tell me what is permitted."</p> + +<p>"I may correspond with you, and that of course means that you are +acknowledged as my friend. I do not think Lady Halcot would mind my +meeting you, here or elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"I see. She would tolerate me as an artist. But you are not to meet my +uncle as an acquaintance."</p> + +<p>Another soft "No" was the answer.</p> + +<p>"It has been spoken about?"</p> + +<p>"I told her all at first. I thought it right. And she said—'that' must +stop."</p> + +<p>"The other must stop too," said Honora quietly.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline gave only a look.</p> + +<p>"I do not mean that the correspondence must stop, or the friendship, my +darling. But when I am staying with my uncle, I cannot have differences +made that would pain him. If you must pass him without notice, you must +pass me too. Your meeting him occasionally is unavoidable, especially +now you are allowed to go about more alone. I shall tell him simply +what he has to expect, and that it is by Lady Halcot's desire; and if +I put myself in the same category with himself, he will not be hurt. +Gwen, don't sob!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Honor!—If I could but go home!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, you must not wish that. For your mother's sake, Gwennie dear, +don't wish it. Think how comfortable and easy they all are now, in +comparison with the past. And you are happy at the Leys, are you not?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," Gwendoline could hardly utter.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, Gwen,—you make me feel myself so cruel. Yet surely you see +with me that I cannot act differently."</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I think I only see my own side of the matter," said +Gwendoline, with a tearful smile. "I do try to be brave, but sometimes +I have such a heart-thirst for you and mother. Lady Halcot is very +kind; but nobody loves me here, Honor, and nothing seems really worth +doing. Miss Withers does everything for Lady Halcot, and I never have +a chance of being useful in that direction. Lady Halcot won't hear of +my taking a class in the Sunday school; and if I propose to work for +the poor, she says I may give orders to my maid to do anything I like. +And, though I have a large allowance, she expects me to spend so much +upon myself, and overlooks the spending so closely, that I cannot give +away much. What am I to do, Honor? I know you won't say anything of all +this to mother; but I have been longing to ask somebody, and I have no +friend here. What ought I to do?"</p> + +<p>Honora looked very tenderly into the sweet face, with its brimming +sorrowful eyes. "It is not so very hard a question to answer, my +darling," she said. "Just do what your Master gives you to do."</p> + +<p>"But, Honor, He gives me nothing."</p> + +<p>"Then be content to do that."</p> + +<p>"Nothing!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, if such is His will for you just now. A master is entirely +at liberty to bid his servant stand with folded hands for an hour, if +he please."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline looked dreamily towards the horizon.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "of course he is. And the servant ought to obey +without grumbling."</p> + +<p>"Unquestionably."</p> + +<p>"But doesn't it seem a waste of time? So much needs to be done."</p> + +<p>"The seeming is not reality. God knows the need better than you or I +can do. Perhaps you are being prepared for some work, which you would +never be able to undertake without some such previous testing of your +will as this."</p> + +<p>"But if it lasts a long time?"</p> + +<p>"It will not last longer than is good for you."</p> + +<p>There was a brief pause, and Honora said gently, "Gwen, we must part."</p> + +<p>"Just five minutes more."</p> + +<p>Honora yielded, and the five minutes grew into ten of low-voiced +conversation. After that she would consent to no longer delay.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline stood like a statue, watching her friend rejoin Mr. +Widrington on the cliff, watching still until the two disappeared. +Then with a full heart, yet cheered and comforted, she made her way +homewards.</p> + +<p>Leisure for thought came now, and a sense of fear crept over her. What +would Lady Halcot say? Had she acted wrongly?</p> + +<p>One thing was clear. The whole truth would have to be told without +delay, cost what it might. Gwendoline had no manner of hesitation there.</p> + +<p>Reaching the Leys, she was met in the hall by Miss Withers.</p> + +<p>"You have come back," that lady observed, with what struck Gwendoline +as a singular expression.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Gwendoline said simply. "Where is Lady Halcot?"</p> + +<p>"Her ladyship is occupied, and desires not to be interrupted at +present."</p> + +<p>There was nothing remarkable in this. Gwendoline passed on silently to +her own rooms, and there indulged in so absorbing a dream of home-faces +and home-news that she lost count of time, and the luncheon-bell rang +unexpectedly. Gwendoline hastened down-stairs, regretting that she had +not made an effort to see Lady Halcot. It was too late now.</p> + +<p>Luncheon proved to be a silent meal that day. Lady Halcot's nose and +mouth wore their most rigid look; Conrad Withers seemed conscious and +uncomfortable; and Miss Withers bore an aspect of humble satisfaction. +Gwendoline became conscious of something unusual in the atmosphere. +Whether or no this something unusual were connected with herself, she +wisely resolved to be prompt in what she had to do.</p> + +<p>"You have all finished?" Lady Halcot said at length, glancing round and +rising. Other words were on her lips, but Gwendoline forestalled them.</p> + +<p>"May I speak to you alone, if you please?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," Lady Halcot said, casting a swift glance at the girl's +pale face.</p> + +<p>She did not see how another face in the room fell, but led the way +to her own boudoir, and placed herself in her favourite arm-chair. +Gwendoline stood near, trembling slightly, but resolutely calm.</p> + +<p>"Miss Withers said you were engaged when I came in, or I would have +told you sooner. I have seen my friend, Honora Dewhurst!"</p> + +<p>"Where?" asked Lady Halcot.</p> + +<p>"On the beach. She is staying for a night or two with her uncle and +aunt, Mr. and Mrs. Widrington, and she came there with her uncle. I was +taken by surprise, and I did not know what to do. He and I shook hands."</p> + +<p>"That 'did not know what to do' is not quite ingenuous, Gwendoline," +said Lady Halcot coldly. "You could scarcely have forgotten my desire."</p> + +<p>"No, but—with Honor there—I did not know how, indeed," said Gwendoline +in distress. "I could not refuse to notice him."</p> + +<p>"Certainly you could. I expect you to do so in future."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline thought of a dozen different things to say, and said none of +them.</p> + +<p>"Your only excuse is that you were, as you say, taken by surprise. But +it must not happen again. The Widringtons are not to be received as +acquaintances in any sense by you. Have you told me all?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline considered painfully, finding some difficulty in commanding +her thoughts, with those stern bright eyes upon her.</p> + +<p>"Honor asked if it was allowed, and I said 'No;' and she asked him to +leave us. I thought you would not mind my talking to Honor herself for +a few minutes."</p> + +<p>"Only a few minutes?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think it could have been more than a quarter of an hour, but I +cannot be sure. She was telling me about all of them at home, and the +time went very fast."</p> + +<p>"Did you talk of nothing else?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline blushed vividly. "Yes; I was telling her I wished I could be +of more use to—to somebody—to people."</p> + +<p>"You are of use to me. That ought to be sufficient. Have you told me +all?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite. I am afraid I kissed Honora at the first moment more warmly +than you would have liked. But it was so sudden."</p> + +<p>"I do not approve of school-girlish ecstasies, especially in public. +But I have not had to complain of your manner before."</p> + +<p>"You shall not again, if I can help it," said Gwendoline quietly.</p> + +<p>"And about the Widringtons? That has to be put an end to, decisively. +Either you must not meet them, or you must make them understand your +respective positions."</p> + +<p>"I think I had better not go on the shore again at present."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fosbrook wishes you to bathe."</p> + +<p>"Yes, twice a week; I can manage that safely by going early,—but I +will not sit about on the beach again. I do not want to give pain +unnecessarily."</p> + +<p>"Very well," Lady Halcot said, and she sat looking at Gwendoline +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"You need not stand," she remarked. "Gwendoline, it is well that you +have acted with openness. I had already heard of this interview."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's astonishment was unmistakable.</p> + +<p>"It does not matter how,—still, I have no objection to your knowing. +Mr. Withers was on the cliff during the early part of the affair, and +on arrival here, he naturally told his aunt what he had seen. Miss +Withers felt it her duty to inform me. It is well therefore that you +have been frank. If you had kept back any particulars, my trust in you +would have suffered. The only complaint I have now to make is of your +want of presence of mind. There was plainly no deliberate intention to +disobey."</p> + +<p>"I hope there never will be," Gwendoline said, in a low voice, +smothering with difficulty a sharp sense of indignation at Miss +Withers' conduct.</p> + +<p>"It would have been singular," Lady Halcot said, in a musing tone, +unusual with her,—"singular if to-day of all days I had found cause +to think less well of you. You do not understand me, of course, and +there is no need that you should. Still, it is well that you should +see clearly the relations in which we stand to one another. By certain +alterations made in my will, and completed this very morning, you are +made heiress to the greater part of that property which lies at my own +disposal,—not the Halcot estate, but that which came to me from my +mother. Unless you give me reason to revoke this step, you will some +day be a tolerably rich woman."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline showed no excitement, as the old lady had expected. She +received the news in silence, and, after some serious thought, she said +simply, "I hope that if I ever am rich, I shall use my money rightly."</p> + +<p>"Is that all you have to say?"</p> + +<p>"No, I ought to thank you," said Gwendoline. "And I do, indeed I do. +Only I wish—"</p> + +<p>"You wish what?"</p> + +<p>"That it could be left to my mother instead of to me."</p> + +<p>"There is no need to enter upon that question," said Lady Halcot, with +less displeasure than she would have shown some weeks earlier. "Your +mother took her deliberate choice, and she must abide by it. I do not +wish this matter talked about, remember."</p> + +<p>"No," replied Gwendoline; "I will be very careful—and of course you +might change your mind again. Shall I tell my mother, or would you +rather not?"</p> + +<p>"I leave that to your discretion."</p> + +<p>"Did Mr. Selwyn come?" asked Gwendoline suddenly.</p> + +<p>"To Riversmouth—to-day? No; I wished it, but he was unable. Had he done +so, I should have remembered that he was an old acquaintance of yours. +Now you may dress for our drive."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline understood that no more was to be said, and she moved away, +outwardly quiet, but inwardly much stirred. As she passed along the +corridor leading to her room, Conrad Withers suddenly darted towards +her from some unknown corner, and brought himself to an abrupt pause.</p> + +<p>"Miss Halcombe!—Miss Halcombe! Just one word, I entreat of you! The old +lady has let the cat out of the bag! I knew she would. I see it in your +look. Can you ever forgive me?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline stood still, and gravely scrutinized his perturbed face. +"How much have I to forgive?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I assure you I didn't mean any harm, but I'm a most unlucky +fellow—always putting my foot in it! I saw you were awfully delighted +to get hold of the young lady, and it made me laugh to see old +Widrington sawing your hand up and down and speechifying! I just told +my aunt out of fun, and never dreamt of anything else, till I saw she +took it as a serious matter. I assure you I didn't mean any harm."</p> + +<p>"It was nothing worse than a little gossip on your part," said +Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see it's so tremendously dull here. If I didn't have a +little fun sometimes, I should die of the dumps, I do believe. But +you'll forgive me, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"There has been no harm done," said Gwendoline, with a certain quiet +dignity which Conrad thought fascinating. "But there might have been. +Another time I shall feel much obliged to you and your aunt if you will +leave me to make my own explanations. Miss Withers may be perfectly +sure that Lady Halcot will not fail to hear everything from me. Perhaps +you will kindly say this to your aunt."</p> + +<p>"I'll see that she understands. And I'll bite off my tongue before ever +I tell her anything about you again," said Conrad.</p> + +<p>"Stay," Gwendoline said, as he made a move. "When did Miss Withers tell +her story to Lady Halcot?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she just kept watch outside the door till the lawyer's man—Mr. +what d'you call him?—was gone, and then she went in, and never left +Lady Halcot till the luncheon-bell rang. 'I' knew what it meant, the +moment I saw the old lady's face; and wasn't I mad with myself? Hallo! +There she comes! I must be off, or I shall catch it!" And Conrad sped +past Lady Halcot, receiving a sharp glance of questioning as he went.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_15">CHAPTER XV.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>CLOUDS.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>A YEAR had gone its round, spring yielding to summer, summer fading +into autumn, autumn giving place to winter, winter once more budding +into spring.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline lived still at the Leys, and had lived there through all +these months, with only one slight break of a fortnight at Malvern with +Lady Halcot. The old lady rarely cared now to leave Riversmouth.</p> + +<p>Sometimes Gwendoline found it difficult to believe that only one year +had passed since she was banished from her home. The time seemed +interminable to look back upon; and the busy happy London life appeared +to lie indefinitely far behind. Gwendoline wondered often how she could +ever have murmured at the surroundings of that dear life. The troubles +in it seemed so small to her now, the happiness so great. She did so +thirst to be again in an atmosphere of lovingkindness, away from all +this cold grandeur.</p> + +<p>Strange to say, Gwendoline had found no friends in Riversmouth. +Lady Halcot kept everybody at a distance. Mr. Fosbrook had made +one attempt to advance acquaintanceship between Gwendoline and his +sister-housekeeper; but Lady Halcot did not like Miss Fosbrook, and +she gave him so decided a snubbing that the offence could hardly be +repeated. Gwendoline stood entirely alone.</p> + +<p>The Halcombes had not quitted their old home, though Mr. Halcombe's +present clerkship, bringing in about £150 per annum, lay at an +inconvenient distance. The said clerkship, together with Lady Halcot's +settlement, and Victor's lately increased pay, tended to keep them +all in greater comfort. Two or three of the boys had been sent to a +boarding-school, which lessened the amount of home-work. Gwendoline +knew that her parents' cares were much lightened. Sometimes she and her +mother exchanged by post some words of sorrowful longing; but generally +each wrote cheerily for the other's sake, suppressing any mention of +troubles, and neither, perhaps, quite knew how the other pined for a +sight of her face.</p> + +<p>Conrad Withers no longer filled the post of secretary to Lady Halcot. +A grave and elderly man of greater competence gave her the assistance +which of late she had increasingly needed. Conrad had taken it into +his simple head to fall in love with Gwendoline. Miss Withers did not +exactly discourage him; but she counselled patience not without secret +hopes of bringing the matter to pass. Gwendoline, as Lady Halcot's +adopted child, was distasteful to her; but Gwendoline, the probable +heiress, as Conrad's "fiancée," would have been quite another thing.</p> + +<p>Miss Withers over-estimated, in some degree, her own influence with the +old lady; for probably nothing would ever have induced Lady Halcot to +consent to such an engagement, had Gwendoline herself become willing. +She also over-estimated Conrad's powers of self-command. The gradual +and subtle working out of plans, which suited Miss Withers, was an +impossibility to him. He endured a few weeks of delay, in deference to +her wishes; then, under a sudden impulse, he precipitated matters by +making a direct proposal.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline, a good deal astonished at his boldness, refused him +at once, kindly yet decisively. She passed some hours of painful +hesitation as to her next step; and then followed her usual habit of +telling Lady Halcot what had occurred.</p> + +<p>The delay was unfortunate. Miss Withers, feeling convinced that +Gwendoline would certainly speak, took her own measures, and made +use of the interim. By some delicate manipulation of the tale, and a +little additional colouring, she caused it to appear that the "poor +silly boy," as she called him, had been the victim of Gwendoline's +trifling—the helpless fly caught in the web of her attractions, and +flung carelessly away so soon as Gwendoline had had her amusement.</p> + +<p>Miss Withers' daily increasing influence over Lady Halcot, and Lady +Halcot's own detestation of anything like flirting, caused this tale +to carry weight. Gwendoline's own version of affairs, following after, +came too late to counteract the mischief. Lady Halcot was angry with +everybody,—angry with Conrad for his temerity; angry with Miss Withers +for not preventing the thing; doubly angry with Gwendoline, alike +for her delay in speaking, and for her supposed conduct towards the +unfortunate Conrad.</p> + +<p>Conrad was dismissed from his employ on the spot, with a quarter's +salary in advance, and a promise of recommendation to work +elsewhere,—"if he could find anything he was fit for," Lady Halcot +grimly added.</p> + +<p>Miss Withers could not forgive Gwendoline this banishment of her +nephew, for which poor Gwendoline was certainly not responsible. While +enduring meekly her own share of Lady Halcot's annoyance, Miss Withers +stealthily fanned into continued existence Lady Halcot's displeasure +towards Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>To Gwendoline the change in Lady Halcot's bearing was an utter mystery. +She was unable to imagine any reason why Conrad's foolish fancy should +be visited upon her so heavily. Lady Halcot's air of cold vexation, +persisted in week after week, was simply inexplicable. Sometimes she +fancied she caught glimpses of strong dislike to herself underlying +Miss Withers' soft civility of manner, and she wondered whether the +clue lay there; but again she would blame her own thoughts as unkind +and suspicious, and would resolve to wait patiently for a lightening of +the cloud. At times she felt strongly disposed to ask an explanation +from Lady Halcot; and the step might have been a wise one. It was, +however, impossible to tell how such a request would be received, +and Gwendoline's courage failed. Her bright free spirit was growing +positively timid under the long pressure of her present life.</p> + +<p>Matters had gone on thus during many weeks, when one day Gwendoline +received by post a short note from Conrad Withers. It ran as follows:—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "DEAR MISS HALCOMBE,—I have not any right to send you a letter, of +course, but you'll forgive me this once. I want to say something to +you, and that is—Mind you beware of my aunt. She is a good woman, I +suppose, as good people go,—at least, she has been good to me and my +sisters; but she has claws beneath her velvet pads, and she hates you +from the very bottom of her heart. Mind, if she can oust you from the +Leys, she will! I think you ought to be warned, for you are too good +to suspect anybody—a different sort of goodness from the 'other!' I +didn't mean to say so much when I began. Of course this is strictly in +confidence. I depend on you not to say a word to anybody, for you'll +get me into an awful mess if you do. But you must just keep your eyes +open.—Yours ever,—<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 20.5em;">"C. WITHERS."</span><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Gwendoline read and re-read the scrawl in painful bewilderment. What +should she do? How could she betray the poor fellow's well-meant effort +to warn her? Yet might she venture to keep his secret? Gwendoline was +naturally impulsive, and an impulse seized upon her now. The letter had +been brought to her room by a servant, and she did not know that it had +lain for a few minutes in the hall, with some others by the same post, +and that Miss Withers had inspected them. Conrad had endeavoured to +disguise his handwriting in the address; an abortive attempt, so far as +his aunt's eyes were concerned.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline, ignorant of this, and hearing a footstep approaching, +crumpled sheet and envelope together and flung them into the fire. The +blackened edges were curling still when Miss Withers entered with some +slight message from Lady Halcot; and they did not escape that lady's +notice.</p> + +<p>Miss Withers withdrew, leaving Gwendoline a prey to troubled thought. +The deed was done, but the question was scarcely settled thereby. For +many hours she was tossed to and fro in utter perplexity as to her +right course. Inclination would have led her, for her own sake, to +divulge the whole to Lady Halcot; but a fear of bringing trouble upon +Conrad, and a conscientious shrinking from anything like betrayal of +confidence, withheld her.</p> + +<p>Days passed, and nothing was said. Gwendoline did not speak, neither +did Lady Halcot. It was not Lady Halcot's fashion to ask an explanation +which she expected, as her due, to come spontaneously. Miss Withers had +not failed to inform Lady Halcot of the arrival of the letter, adding +to her information regrets as to "the poor boy's folly," and mild +surmises that some encouragement from Gwendoline must have caused the +deed.</p> + +<p>"I do not believe that," Lady Halcot said. "I have always found Miss +Halcombe straightforward and obedient hitherto. Your nephew is by no +means wanting in assurance, Miss Withers. I shall no doubt hear all +from Miss Halcombe before night."</p> + +<p>But in a little while, Lady Halcot did believe it—naturally, perhaps, +since Gwendoline said nothing.</p> + +<p>So the cloud upon Gwendoline grew darker, she herself unknowing why. +She could not see the weaving of the web behind the scenes, could not +tell how the gradual process of alienation was carried on, could not +guess how her most unimportant remarks were detailed to Lady Halcot, +with new meanings of which she herself had never dreamt. She was +conscious of a wall of separation growing up between herself and Lady +Halcot, but the manner of its growth was a mystery to her. That Miss +Withers had a hand in the matter she could no longer doubt. Conrad's +letter supplied her with a clue thus far. It supplied her, however, +with no means of circumventing the evil.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline had never passed through a trial of this description before. +Accustomed, up to the time of leaving her London home, to be petted, +beloved, and sought after, in her little circle of acquaintances; +accustomed, since coming to Riversmouth, to be admired and trusted +and made much of,—it was an experience no less new than painful to +find herself thrust out into the cold. The cessation of Lady Halcot's +interest in her concerns revealed to her how much she had valued that +interest. She was still looked after, told what to do, desired where to +go; but the manner of the superintendence exercised was sharp and cold, +as to a child in disgrace. Sometimes she wondered whether Lady Halcot +were growing tired of her, and would one day decide to send her home; +and her heart sprang at the thought. But no hint of such an intention +ever dropped from Lady Halcot's lips.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline drooped under this icy atmosphere like a hothouse plant +turned out into the frost. Without any definite ailment, she grew thin, +pale, and listless, and the days seemed to her to drag by interminably, +lacking life and interest. She had nothing particular to do for +anyone except herself, and the mental energy necessary for steady +self-improvement seemed of late to have died away. The weariness of +long patience was upon her.</p> + +<p>Yet she did not murmur, and she was patient still. Whatever results +this time of trial might have in the end remained to be seen; but its +present effect was distinctly to draw her nearer to her God. In her +lack of earthly friends, she clung the more closely to her Heavenly +Friend. The unsatisfied thirst for earthly love made her drink more +deeply of the river of Divine love. Even now, in the pain of her +loneliness, Gwendoline knew that the pain was "good for her."</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn came down to Riversmouth one spring day, by the old lady's +request, to discuss certain matters divulged by her to nobody. The +change in Gwendoline's position, and in Gwendoline herself, struck +him forcibly. He had been down several months earlier, just before +the Conrad affair, and had seen Gwendoline well and happy, seemingly +established as Lady Halcot's especial favourite. Lady Halcot had been +giving her riding-lessons, and had just presented her with a beautiful +little horse. He well remembered Gwendoline's eager pleasure and +gratitude, and her brilliant prettiness on horseback, together with +Lady Halcot's evident satisfaction and pride in her. He had counted the +whole arrangement a most happy success.</p> + +<p>But this sunny May day, when he found himself once more in the old +mansion of the Leys, he perceived at once a change. Gwendoline's +wistful face and subdued voice, as she met him, told their own tale. +She could hardly speak for threatening tears, and she had to turn +away lest others should see. At luncheon, he noted with regret her +constrained and even timid manner, together with Lady Halcot's cold and +repressive bearing, nor did he fail to perceive the covert dislike and +silken satisfaction of Miss Withers' air towards Gwendoline.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_16">CHAPTER XVI.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE CODICIL.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"I WISH to have a codicil added to my will," said Lady Halcot.</p> + +<p>She spoke very decidedly, after her wont, and sat upright in her chair, +facing the lawyer, while the muscles round her mouth worked nervously.</p> + +<p>"I have decided not to make Gwendoline Halcombe my heiress to the full +extent that I purposed some months ago. Circumstances have occurred to +alter my determination."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" Mr. Selwyn said, not without a touch of surprise.</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot took umbrage at it immediately.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I am at liberty to dispose of my property as I see fit," she +said sharply. "I am not under obligations to explain my reasons to all +the world."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not; certainly not," Mr. Selwyn answered, with all +politeness.</p> + +<p>"I intend to leave the sum of thirty thousand pounds for the building +and endowing of a small hospital in Riversmouth; and also the sum of +ten thousand pounds for the building of some almshouses. I did not +realize till lately the need for these two institutions. Miss Withers +has been drawing me some neat plans for the almshouses. She has quite a +gift that way."</p> + +<p>"Ha! That is it," thought the lawyer. "So 'she' is at the bottom of the +matter."</p> + +<p>"Also, I intend to leave the sum of four thousand pounds to Miss +Withers."</p> + +<p>"Miss Withers ought to be grateful," said Mr. Selwyn.</p> + +<p>"Miss Withers is always grateful for kindnesses. I find her +increasingly useful,—a most devoted attendant. I am not so young as I +was, and I do not know what I should do without her. It is my wish to +mark my appreciation of her services. If I could depend upon others as +entirely as I can depend upon her—"</p> + +<p>The old lady's tone was combative, and the unfinished sentence plainly +pointed to Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>The lawyer again said, "Certainly," in a soothing tone. Secretly he +thought Lady Halcot nervous and irrational, as if something had thrown +her off her balance.</p> + +<p>A pause followed, and he observed cautiously, "It is, of course, no +concern of mine, but perhaps I should recall to your memory, Lady +Halcot, that in a letter to Miss Halcombe you undertook to provide +handsomely for her future. There would not be much remaining to her, +after what you propose to do. Thirty thousand to the hospital, ten +thousand to the almshouses, four thousand to Miss Withers, twenty +thousand, roughly, in various bequests and legacies,—out of some +seventy thousand pounds."</p> + +<p>"Seventy thousand is a low estimate, if I am not mistaken. I promised +to provide handsomely for Gwendoline Halcombe, if she gave me +satisfaction," Lady Halcot said, rather too much as if speaking of a +housemaid. "But I have had reason of late to be disappointed in Miss +Halcombe. She has shown a want of ingenuousness, a want of entire +straightforwardness, with which it is impossible to be satisfied. And +within only the last week she has displayed a want of propriety in her +manner of speaking about me—not, of course, to my face, but behind my +back—which I could never have expected in her."</p> + +<p>"I am surprised, I confess," said Mr. Selwyn, while "Miss Withers +again" flashed through his mind. "I should not have imagined the thing +possible, knowing Miss Halcombe as I do. Is your ladyship sure that the +information is completely reliable?"</p> + +<p>"Completely," Lady Halcot said, with her most decided air. "However, I +am not in the habit of forgetting my promises, or of swerving without +sufficient cause from my intentions. I intend to leave Miss Halcombe +sufficiently provided for. Your suggestion was therefore superfluous."</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn felt that he had given offence, and he bowed slightly, with +an air of apology.</p> + +<p>"The five hundred a year, settled upon her parents for their lifetime, +will revert to Miss Halcombe after their death. This is already so +arranged; and the arrangement shall remain undisturbed. Also there will +be at my death a few thousands to become hers immediately,—some seven +or eight thousand, if I am not mistaken. This is, at least, as much as +I have ever pledged myself to do; although for a time I intended to go +much farther."</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn found the old lady as usual keenly interested in business +details. It struck him, however, that she was not so clear as she had +once been. She forgot herself repeatedly, asked the same questions over +again, and seemed not fully to grasp the sense of his answers. Still, +her resolution was plainly taken.</p> + +<p>The interview was a long one, leaving Mr. Selwyn barely time to catch +his train. He would have liked a few words alone with Gwendoline; but +to defer his return until a later hour was not possible; and he learnt +that Gwendoline had gone out for a drive. Was it by her own wish? Mr. +Selwyn shrewdly suspected that Gwendoline would have been at least as +pleased as himself to exchange a few remarks.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"The upshot of the matter is that Miss Halcombe is unhappy at the Leys."</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn had said little about his visit to Riversmouth that same +evening in the drawing-room,—much less than he was wont to say. +Isobel's questioning had proved almost fruitless; for her husband was, +of course, an adept at fencing. Mortimer Selwyn had listened silently, +drawing his own conclusions; and these conclusions took shape suddenly +in the above remark.</p> + +<p>"I have not said so," Mr. Selwyn cautiously answered.</p> + +<p>"Not in words, precisely," said Mortimer, "Is she well, father?"</p> + +<p>"I should say not thoroughly. She has lost her colour."</p> + +<p>"And her spirits?"</p> + +<p>"I thought her looking rather depressed. But, as I tell you, I had no +opportunity of speaking with her."</p> + +<p>"Is the old lady as fond of her as she was six months ago?" inquired +Isobel.</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn could have laughed. "Fondness" was not a word to apply to +Lady Halcot under any circumstances, and he said so.</p> + +<p>"Call it anything you like, Stuart. You know what I mean. Does Lady +Halcot care for Gwendoline Halcombe as much as ever? Or has she begun +to throw her overboard? You need not be afraid to speak. Mortimer and I +are perfectly safe."</p> + +<p>Thus pressed, Mr. Selwyn yielded in some measure. He said nothing +about the proposed change in the will; but he spoke with regret of +Gwendoline's altered look, and of the old lady's seeming coldness.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what it is," Isobel cried indignantly. "It is all that +little wretch of a Miss Withers, and her stupid nephew!"</p> + +<p>"My dear! You are not acquainted with Miss Withers."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am, through you, quite as much as I am acquainted with Lady +Halcot. Do you think I don't understand the expression of your face +when you mention Miss Withers' name? I have no doubt she is a most +estimable person, in people's opinion generally; but she isn't in your +opinion, Stuart. And I haven't the least grain of doubt that she is at +the bottom of the mischief, and you haven't either."</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn would not confirm or deny the assertion. He said merely, +"You are too observant, Isobel, and you have a quick imagination. But, +remember, this must not go farther. Not a word must reach Gwendoline's +parents."</p> + +<p>"What! You would leave that poor girl to pine away for want of a kind +word!"</p> + +<p>"I hope matters are not quite so bad. We have no business to interfere; +and it would be positive cruelty to tell her parents, when nothing can +be done. Gwendoline is bound to remain at the Leys so long as Lady +Halcot desires to keep her."</p> + +<p>Isobel fumed, but could not explain away the truth of the assertion.</p> + +<p>Later in the evening, when she had retired, Mortimer took the +opportunity to say quietly, "You consider seriously that no steps can +be taken?"</p> + +<p>"About Gwendoline? Certainly not. She is entirely in Lady Halcot's +hands. You and I have nothing to do with the matter."</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure that I have not."</p> + +<p>"Eh!" Mr. Selwyn said doubtfully; and Mortimer's pleasant eyes met his.</p> + +<p>"I do not know whether I shall ever marry, father. But this I know, +that if I do, Gwendoline will be my wife."</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn made a sound of regret and disapproval.</p> + +<p>"I should wish you to understand so much. I have had as yet no +opportunity of endeavouring to win her."</p> + +<p>"And you will not have," said Mr. Selwyn.</p> + +<p>"I should not wait long but for your position with Lady Halcot. As it +is, I could take no step without your approval."</p> + +<p>"The last step which I could approve would be your going to Riversmouth +with such an aim. She is a good girl and a sweet girl, Mortimer; but +she is utterly out of your reach at present. Lady Halcot has her own +plans. I am sorry for you. Perhaps I should be right to mention to you +in confidence that Gwendoline will not be so rich as many suppose."</p> + +<p>"So much the better," Mortimer said quietly.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_17">CHAPTER XVII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>RICH TOWARD GOD.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>ONE June Sunday there came into the parish church a new preacher, never +before seen within its precincts. A charity sermon was foretold for +that morning, and Mr. Rossiter had summoned a clerical acquaintance +from a distance. He did not very often indulge his congregation with +variety in their spiritual fare. Charity sermons and strange preachers +were contrary to the traditions of Riversmouth, and he was at all +times anxious to avoid giving needless offence to his aged patron. +Occasionally, however, he broke through this rule, and he had done so +now.</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot was in her pew, as she seldom failed to be, despite her +increasing infirmities. She counted it her duty to set a good example; +and, though unwell for some days past, she was there.</p> + +<p>Charity sermons are not, as a rule, peculiarly spirit-stirring +addresses; but this charity sermon promised early to be somewhat +exceptional in its nature. The preacher was a middle-aged man, of a +rugged and fervid aspect, yet a gentleman. He said little about the +immediate object for which help was needed, taking at once a broader +stand. Also, he kept away from the smooth and sleepy lines of much +pulpit phraseology, and spoke in terse every-day language, such as he +might have used in conversation, always to the point, nevertheless +always reverent. Such clothing of ideas in words might almost take the +place of eloquence. Mr. Rossiter, with all his earnestness, had not yet +learnt this secret of speaking straight to men's hearts in strong Saxon +English; and he began to take a lesson for himself, as he sat watching +his congregation wake up from its ordinary air of drowsy submission.</p> + +<p>"Twelfth chapter of St. Luke, twentieth and twenty-first verses. 'But +God said unto him, Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of +thee: then whose shall those things be which thou hast provided? So is +he that layeth up treasure for himself, and IS NOT RICH TOWARD GOD.'"</p> + +<p>The closing words rang solemnly through the building. The clergyman, +indulging in no circumlocutions, with the half-closed Bible clasped in +his hands, went straight to the point.</p> + +<p>"Which among you all, my friends, can count himself thus 'rich toward +God'?</p> + +<p>"You are strangers to me, and I am a stranger to you. Of your families, +your homes, your circumstances, I know nothing. But this much I know, +that not one among you is without his treasure laid up, whether for +himself or for his God.</p> + +<p>"Wealth is a matter which men see differently from different +standpoints. A man may be rich in his own or others' estimation with +five hundred a year. A man may be poor, at least in his own estimation, +with ten thousand a year. The exact 'how much' that each one has is +not the question. You have your wealth, more or less; you have your +possessions, great or small; you have your treasures that you have +provided; you have these things in some sort, every one of you. Now +comes the vital question. Is it only treasure for self, mere pelf of +earthly storehouses, subject to mildew, moth, and flame? One night or +day thy soul shall be required of thee. Then whose shall that poor +worthless rubbish be which thou hast so carefully provided? Not thine, +in any case.</p> + +<p>"'Not rich toward God.' There is the gist of the matter. You may have +your 'much goods laid up for many years.' You may have your thousands +or tens of thousands descending to you from your forefathers. You may +have your luxurious home, your high position, your care and comfort +and delicate fare, fruits of industry in generations past. Or you +may have striven and fought your own way upwards from poverty to +comparative wealth, till now you can sit with your hands before you, +and look placidly round, confident in the knowledge that want and +poverty cannot touch you. Of course that 'cannot' is far from absolute. +Riches do 'take to themselves wings' unexpectedly sometimes. You know +this, yet you feel secure. You have your possessions inherited by +descent or gained through labour of hand or brain, and you know you are +comfortably provided for, till—till—</p> + +<p>"My friends, till when?"</p> + +<p>The question came sharply, breaking into the slowly-uttered syllables +which preceded it. He paused for an instant, and the silence was +intense. Lady Halcot looked stern and pale. She thought the preacher +meant herself. Mr. Widrington, seated near, felt equally sure that he +was the person intended.</p> + +<p>"'This night,' the summons came thus. It may be 'this night' to any one +of us. Suppose the call came now to you, whose should those things be +which you have provided—those things which have filled your hearts and +lives hitherto? Have you treasure laid up in the heavens?</p> + +<p>"'Surely every man walketh in a vain show; he heapeth up riches, and +knoweth not who shall gather them.' YOU may make your plans and form +your wills, and those plans and wills may or may not be carried out +after you are gone. What if they are? You will not be here to see it. +What of yourself, stripped of all your wealth, of all your position, of +all that you have sought and valued and stored and laid up,—yourself, +standing, a cold and poverty-stricken soul, before the Eternal God? +'Not rich toward God,' in the hour of death. It is an awful thought. +'Lo, this is the man that made not God his strength, but trusted in the +abundance of his riches, and strengthened himself in his "substance."' +So in the margin.</p> + +<p>"I do not for a moment say that wealth is a sin. No gift of God can in +itself be evil. I say only that wealth is a danger. Poverty is a danger +too, though of a different kind. No condition of life is without its +dangers. If you hold your treasures of any kind as from God, they will +not harm you.</p> + +<p>"'How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of +God!' Yes, because 'they trust in the abundance of their riches'! That +is why. God made Abraham aboundingly rich, and Abraham was none the +worse in heart and spirit; for his trust was in God, not in his wealth. +So too with Job. When his riches were swept away, he could still say of +God, 'Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.' Which of you could +speak those words from the bottom of the heart, if your best treasures +were taken away? And mark,—treasure does not always mean money. There +may be treasures in the shape of mental powers, treasures in the shape +of loved friends or relatives, as well as treasures in the shape of +wealth. Those who have not one have another of these.</p> + +<p>"'The blessing of the Lord it maketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow with +it.' My friends, do not make it needful that He should add sorrow. Take +heed that your hearts are rich toward God with the wealth which Christ +alone can give; and neither riches nor poverty will hurt you then.</p> + +<p>"Remember, every one of you, treasure-holders of any kind or degree, +that which you have is not your own. It is the Lord's. You have to use +it for your God; and by and by He will demand from you a solemn account +of the use which you have made of it. Are you prepared to yield this +account?</p> + +<p>"The need for which I plead to-day is one among many needs. I do not +seek merely to move your pity, or to stir your feelings in the hope +of loosening your purse-strings. The principle of the matter lies far +deeper than any surface stir of pitiful feeling. God has given to each +one of us so much of the good things of this world. Are we heaping them +together for ourselves, or are we using them for God, counting them as +lent, while the true God-given riches of forgiveness and peace and joy +are in our hearts for evermore?</p> + +<p>"Using them for God means more than an occasional shilling put into the +plate at church, or an occasional penny tossed to a beggar. It means +more than plans of kindness and schemes of generosity. It means doing +what you do for Christ's sake. It means doing what you do as unto the +Lord Himself.</p> + +<p>"There is a deadly sin spoken of in the Bible. Listen:</p> + +<p>"'The wicked shall be turned into hell . . . and all the nations that +FORGET GOD.'</p> + +<p>"And again,—'The wicked through the pride of his countenance will not +seek after God. God is not in all his thoughts.' Only forgetfulness +again! How much has God been in our thoughts this past week? Put the +question to yourselves. 'Consider this, ye that FORGET GOD.'</p> + +<p>"Only forgetfulness! A small matter in the eyes of many. It will not +seem a small matter in that hour when you stand face to face with +the Eternal God, whom you through long years of life have habitually +forgotten.</p> + +<p>"Forgotten Him in your work! Forgotten Him in your duties! Forgotten +Him in your pleasures! Forgotten Him in your money-earning! Forgotten +Him in your money-spending!</p> + +<p>"And yet—He is your Father. He has not forgotten your needs. The Lord +Jesus did not forget to die for you. The Holy Spirit does not forget to +plead with you."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>So far the sermon proceeded, the effect of the preacher's brief, clear +utterances being enhanced by his impressive earnestness and by a mellow +voice of strong feeling.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, and without the slightest warning, as regarded the greater +number present, there was a heavy "thud." Lady Halcot lay senseless +upon the floor of the large square pew.</p> + +<p>Two or three friends near said afterwards that they had observed a +livid whiteness creeping over the old lady's face, but had not thought +much of it. Miss Withers, the only sleepy person in the congregation, +had noticed nothing; and Gwendoline, absorbed in attention to the +preacher, had been equally oblivious. The collapse of Lady Halcot's +powers was so instantaneous that neither could be in time to break the +force of her fall, but Gwendoline was the first to lift her head.</p> + +<p>A general stir took place, and the thread of close attention was +broken. The clergyman came to a sudden pause, and people around craned +their necks to observe, with eager whispers, two or three young ladies +becoming slightly hysterical. Help was at hand, and before many seconds +had elapsed, the little bent figure was carried into the vestry. There, +with the help of fresh air and remedies, Lady Halcot slowly revived.</p> + +<p>"It must have been the heat. I never fainted in my life before," she +said uneasily. "So very strange! If I had guessed that anything of the +kind was coming on, I should have walked out. It must have made quite +a disturbance. Thanks; I do not require the salts, Miss Withers. I am +quite well."</p> + +<p>But when she stood up to walk to her carriage, Lady Halcot fell back +again in semi-unconsciousness.</p> + +<p>The disturbance in church had not been slight, and many found it +difficult to give further attention to the sermon. With some, however, +the event had rather deepened the effect of the preacher's words, and +among these was Mr. Widrington. For so chatty a man, he was strangely +silent during the remainder of the day; and a clue to his silence came +at night.</p> + +<p>"Wife," he said tremblingly, "I can't get out of my head the things I +heard this morning. It's an awful thought that all these years I have +been forgetting God,—forgetting Him in my getting, and my spending too. +I didn't mean to, but I have. It was awful to see the old lady go down +like that, and to think it was, maybe, the call come all of a sudden. I +hope it isn't, but there's no knowing; and I hope, if it is, she's got +her treasure in heaven all right. But I'm sure I haven't. It's time we +should see to it, wifie."</p> + +<p>The preacher came and went, and his first sermon in Riversmouth was +also his last there. But the words flung broadcast upon the soil that +day sprang up and grew and bore fruit; not only in the heart of little +old Mr. Widrington.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_18">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>LONELINESS.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>SIX weeks had passed since Lady Halcot was first taken ill in church, +and she was ill yet. She had not left her room, had, indeed, scarcely +quitted her bed, since that day. Mr. Fosbrook found it difficult to +say in precise terms what was the matter with her. She seemed to have +no definite ailment, beyond a collapse of all her powers. Suddenly, +and almost without previous warning, she had sunk into the ways of a +confirmed invalid.</p> + +<p>Miss Withers from the first moment stepped quietly into the position +of head nurse and of general manager in all that appertained to Lady +Halcot. Gwendoline found herself gradually excluded from the sick-room. +A brief visit once or twice a day was permitted for a while, Miss +Withers invariably remaining present. But as time went on, difficulties +were raised; and slowly—almost imperceptibly to herself—it came about +that her entrance was forbidden.</p> + +<p>"I do not think it desirable to-day," in Miss Withers' placid tones, +grew into, "I could not possibly allow it, Miss Halcombe."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline had no means of knowing whether this was by Lady Halcot's +desire. Miss Withers did everything in Lady Halcot's name, spoke much +of the necessity of keeping her quiet, and promised to call Gwendoline +at once, if at any time the old lady seemed to require her. Gwendoline +had no power to separate the true from the false in their utterances. +Had she felt the slightest security that her presence was desired by +Lady Halcot, she would have taken a firm stand immediately. But this +security she could not feel. Lady Halcot's long-continued coldness, and +the absence now of any kind message from the sick-room, made her shrink +from intruding where, as it seemed, she was not wanted.</p> + +<p>Life dragged on wearily with her through those weeks. She had no +friends, no companions. Miss Withers was with Lady Halcot, morning, +noon, and night; scarcely quitting the room for even a hurried meal now +and then, but "snatching food," as she called it, when she could, and +never walking out at all. Yet she showed no signs of being over-taxed, +but always appeared placidly neat and satisfied. Gwendoline wondered at +her.</p> + +<p>What Mr. Fosbrook thought of the old lady Gwendoline did not know. +She would have spoken to him, but no opportunity presented itself. So +sure as Mr. Fosbrook's carriage reached the front door, the ubiquitous +Miss Withers was gliding through the hall to welcome him; and when he +left, she accompanied him out upon the steps, talking always in muffled +and confidential tones. If Gwendoline came up and asked a question +for herself, the answer was snatched from Mr. Fosbrook's lips by Miss +Withers. Her after report to Gwendoline was almost invariably the same, +"Mr. Fosbrook considered Lady Halcot very feeble still, and desired +that she should be kept perfectly quiet."</p> + +<p>It was a strange life for Gwendoline, brought up as she had been in +a crowd, and now entirely cut off from all whom she loved. Letters +were her great comfort, and correspondence was no longer subject to +supervision; but Gwendoline was strictly honourable, and she would in +no case exceed the bounds marked out for her by Lady Halcot. A feeling +of restlessness made it very difficult to settle to any course of +study; and rides and drives were melancholy, with no particular object +in them, no companion with whom to exchange ideas, nobody to see her +off, nobody to welcome her home. Gwendoline had not imagined until now +how much of real affection she had learnt to bestow on Lady Halcot, or +how keenly the little old lady could be missed out of her daily life.</p> + +<p>In despair of other interests, she at length took to her painting +again, and spent hours over it daily, struggling with lassitude and +disinclination, and trying to revive a shadow of her former delight in +the occupation. Some of the old pleasure crept back slowly; but she +missed the companionship of her fellow-students, their criticisms, +opinions, and judgments, together with the warm interest of her +home-circle in all that she undertook. To have painted a picture for +her mother would have brought real enjoyment, but Gwendoline knew well +that her work, when done, would be Lady Halcot's, not Mrs. Halcombe's.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the poor girl flung her pencils down, and sobbed aloud in her +heartache, for "Mother, mother!"</p> + +<p>Occasionally Miss Withers would drop in, and scan Gwendoline's +unfinished canvas, with the monotonous verdict of "So very pretty."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline had some difficulty on such occasions in controlling herself +to receive politely the unwelcome commendation.</p> + +<p>She was alone in Lady Halcot's boudoir early one afternoon, going +through an hour of self-prescribed reading, when, to her surprise, +Mr. Fosbrook walked in. It was half an hour before his usual time +of calling, and Gwendoline said, as she rose, "I did not hear the +carriage."</p> + +<p>"No; I came on my own feet for once," Mr. Fosbrook answered, not +thinking it necessary to add that he had done so for the express +purpose of securing a private interview with her. "Finding the door on +the latch, I did not ring. Have you been out to-day, Miss Halcombe?"</p> + +<p>"No; I did not feel inclined."</p> + +<p>"Don't give way to that feeling."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline smiled assent, cheered quickly by the interest shown in her +well-being. She had had little of such kindness for many weeks.</p> + +<p>"You are not looking very well, I think. People cannot get on without +fresh air."</p> + +<p>"No; I will remember," she said, not wishing to waste valuable time. +"Mr. Fosbrook, what do you really think of Lady Halcot? She has been so +long ill now. Will she soon be well?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fosbrook looked at her in silence for two seconds. Then he said +gravely, "Miss Withers undertook to tell you."</p> + +<p>"She tells me nothing," said Gwendoline hastily. "Except that Lady +Halcot is weak, and must be kept quiet."</p> + +<p>"That is true,—so far. It is not all. There has been a marked failure +the last three days."</p> + +<p>"A failure of strength?"</p> + +<p>"Of vital power."</p> + +<p>"I have heard nothing," Gwendoline said, in a trembling voice,—"nothing +whatever. Is this right? Why am I to be kept away from Lady Halcot, and +to have the truth hidden from me? I am not a child."</p> + +<p>"Then it is not by your own wish that you are absent?"</p> + +<p>"My own wish! Staying out of the room! No, indeed! Could you think so?" +asked Gwendoline reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"Miss Withers seemed to think that you were of a nervous disposition, +as regarded illness."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline exclaimed in amazement. "I am the eldest of a large family," +she said. "I have been used to nursing all my life."</p> + +<p>"I confess it did not sound very much like the young lady whom I saw +leaping from the rock," he said, with a half-smile. "But characters are +often inconsistent in their developments. Then you would not really +object to seeing Lady Halcot?"</p> + +<p>"If I thought Lady Halcot wished to see me, nothing should keep me out +of the room," said Gwendoline indignantly. "Afraid of illness indeed!"</p> + +<p>"It is possible that Lady Halcot wishes it more than she allows to +appear. She is always reserved."</p> + +<p>"Has she ever said anything,—ever asked about me?"</p> + +<p>"No," Mr. Fosbrook answered. "Your name has not been mentioned by +her in my hearing. When I have alluded to you, she has immediately +dropped the subject. But this very silence strikes me as unnatural, and +inclines me to believe that there is strong feeling of some kind below."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline stood with a look of painful perplexity on her face. "If I +only knew what to do!" she said. "If I could only see my way clearly! +Miss Withers,—'she,' of course, has no right to forbid me the room. If +I knew myself to be wanted there, I would go at once. Miss Withers has +no real power in the matter. There is only my doubt about Lady Halcot's +wishes. Did you mean just now that you think Lady Halcot's state at all +serious?—Anything to be anxious about?"</p> + +<p>"It would be no kindness to hide the truth from you," said Mr. Fosbrook +seriously. "She will never come down-stairs again."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that she is dying?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's startled face was turned upon him in blank distress. But +his answer left her in no doubt.</p> + +<p>"Lady Halcot is dying."</p> + +<p>"Not actually dying I—surely not so bad as that! How long can she live?"</p> + +<p>"It may be weeks. It may be only days. I cannot speak with certainty. A +temporary rally is not even now impossible, but I hardly expect it."</p> + +<p>"And she,—does she know it?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell. She does not appear to be conscious of danger; but +certainly I have an impression that something is weighing upon her +mind. It may be that, or it may be your absence."</p> + +<p>A light seemed to flash upon Gwendoline. "I see,—I see!" she said. "You +think that perhaps Lady Halcot is fretting about me,—perhaps believing, +as you did, that I have been staying away out of choice—selfishly."</p> + +<p>"I did not believe it, Miss Halcombe. But mistakes are possible, +especially in a sick-room, where the mind is not very strong."</p> + +<p>"And you advise me to go to her?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fosbrook's answer was unhesitating. "I do. The experiment is at +least worth trying."</p> + +<p>The boudoir door opened slowly, and Miss Withers entered, a rather +disagreeable expression underlying her smile. "Mr. Fosbrook already!" +she said, with an accent of surprise. "How do you do? You are early +to-day."</p> + +<p>"Rather," Mr. Fosbrook answered composedly.</p> + +<p>He was, of course, entirely indifferent to Miss Withers' displeasure, +and he shook hands in his usual manner, content to have achieved +that which might prevent after unhappiness or self-reproaches on the +part of Gwendoline. He had suspected the fact of certain not quite +straightforward dealings. Having done his part, he left Gwendoline to +carry on the matter.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_19">CHAPTER XIX.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>TO A POINT.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>GWENDOLINE'S resolution was quickly taken. A plan of action flashed +into her mind, and she unhesitatingly resolved to carry it out. With +all her capabilities of passive endurance, and her real sweetness of +temper, there was much of underlying force and spirit, and she was now +thoroughly aroused. No thought of self came into the question. Her +solicitude was entirely for Lady Halcot.</p> + +<p>"Will you please to come up-stairs, Mr. Fosbrook?" Miss Withers said, +with less than her usual assurance.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline advanced a step or two, colourless still, but +self-possessed. "Miss Withers, I have been asking Mr. Fosbrook his real +opinion of Lady Halcot; and I am very much surprised to find matters +far worse than you have given me any reason to suppose."</p> + +<p>Miss Withers murmured something about "not liking to distress Miss +Halcombe."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fosbrook has also given me full leave to go in and out of Lady +Halcot's room," Gwendoline continued.</p> + +<p>"Lady Halcot's wishes—" came in answer to this.</p> + +<p>"I will find out for myself what Lady Halcot's wishes really are," said +Gwendoline. "Mr. Fosbrook, would you please to come up-stairs with me? +If you like to make a third, Miss Withers, pray come also."</p> + +<p>Miss Withers seemingly did like to make a third, for she followed Mr. +Fosbrook, while Gwendoline preceded him. The little fair-haired woman's +control of feature was curiously displayed at this juncture. Neither +fear nor annoyance showed in her face. She rather appeared to be +occupied with cogitations as to her next step. On the first landing a +quick and unexpected movement placed her beside Gwendoline, and at the +same instant she was saying, in a subdued voice, "I should wish you to +understand, Miss Halcombe, that I have acted throughout entirely with +Lady Halcot's consent. The responsibility does not rest with me."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline was silent, not knowing what answer to make; and the shadow +of an incredulous smile was on Mr. Fosbrook's lips. Miss Withers looked +steadily from one to the other.</p> + +<p>"I assure you it is so. How could it be otherwise? I have acted simply +by Lady Halcot's desire,—simply as her mouthpiece."</p> + +<p>"I do not think a mouthpiece is required. Lady Halcot will tell me her +own wishes," Gwendoline answered coldly.</p> + +<p>The trio moved on without more words, till Lady Halcot's bedroom +door was reached. Gwendoline there paused, her hand upon it, that +Miss Withers might not push in first. "I do not wish to startle Lady +Halcot," she said, in a low tone. "No, not you, Miss Withers. Mr. +Fosbrook—"</p> + +<p>Miss Withers obeyed, drawing back, strange to say, with a still +unruffled mien.</p> + +<p>The doctor entered alone, greeting his patient cheerfully. "How are you +to-day, Lady Halcot? Not very bright, I am afraid. No; I thought so."</p> + +<p>"Imprisonment never suits me," Lady Halcot answered, in a thin faint +voice. She was on the sofa, built up with cushions and shawls, not +dressed, but warmly muffled and covered, her shrunken wan face looking +out from manifold wraps. Excessive restlessness had driven her for an +hour from her bed, but she had to be lifted like an infant, and summer +heat brought no warmth to her chilled frame.</p> + +<p>"The days seem long to you up here?" Mr. Fosbrook said +half-questioningly.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—long and monotonous. I have been an active woman, and time hangs +heavily, with no occupations. I have no right to complain, however."</p> + +<p>"A little change might do you no harm."</p> + +<p>"A change down-stairs? I have no strength."</p> + +<p>"No, I could not recommend that. But how would you like to see another +face, by way of variety? Miss Halcombe is anxious to pay you a visit."</p> + +<p>"Gwendoline!" and there was a pause. "Yes,—if she cares to come."</p> + +<p>"She is just outside. Miss Halcombe!" the doctor said; but almost +before the words crossed his lips Gwendoline stood by the bedside.</p> + +<p>An instant's hesitation on her part, and the old lady would have +withdrawn into a shell of icy reserve. Gwendoline did not hesitate. She +knelt down beside the couch, and pressed her lips to one of the small +withered hands.</p> + +<p>"Gwendoline, my dear!"</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot's voice shook painfully.</p> + +<p>"You will let me be with you now, will you not?" asked Gwendoline +beseechingly. "Mr. Fosbrook has given me leave. I have been so longing +to see you all these weeks."</p> + +<p>"She told me—you—"</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot broke off, and her apprehensive glance round the room was +not lost upon her companions. Miss Withers had become invisible. Mr. +Fosbrook went to the door, and closed it, not quite unconscious of a +figure moving away on the other side.</p> + +<p>"There has been some misunderstanding," he said, as he came back. "Miss +Halcombe has not remained absent by her own will."</p> + +<p>"I have wished so much to come. I would have given anything to be with +you," Gwendoline repeated earnestly.</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot looked at her and at the doctor by turns. "Ah, yes,—a +misunderstanding!" she murmured at length. "Only a misunderstanding. +Such things will happen. But you will not leave me again, my dear. I +have wanted you so much. And I thought you were too busy to care to +come,—riding out, and painting, and writing letters home. A little +misunderstanding."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline had it on her lips to say, "She told me you did not want +me." But something seemed to restrain the utterance. The old lady +looked so broken and shadowy, that Gwendoline shrank from putting her +to pain. She only said, "You will know me better now."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear,—yes. I have misjudged you," said Lady Halcot sadly. +Then, as the doctor felt her pulse,—"I am not well to-day, Mr. +Fosbrook. I am very weak."</p> + +<p>"Yes, very," he answered. "Is there anything you could fancy in the way +of food,—anything fresh?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, if only one did not need to eat. I have such a distaste for +everything. But perhaps—perhaps, with Gwendoline to sit by me—"</p> + +<p>"I am going to be your nurse now," said Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"I shall like that, my dear. And I think—perhaps—a little nearer, +Gwendoline; I don't want to be overheard. Is the door shut? Thanks. I +think, my dear, if you could manage to arrange it, when you are not +here yourself,—if either Spurrell or Frith could take your place,—so as +not to leave me quite alone with Miss Withers!" The tones were eager +as well as tremulous. "I have no complaints to make. Miss Withers is +an excellent nurse,—most painstaking. But sometimes—it tries me a +little—if you could manage so—"</p> + +<p>"You shall never be without Spurrell or Frith or myself in the room for +a single instant," said Gwendoline firmly.</p> + +<p>"Don't tell Miss Withers that I have expressed the wish. She has been +most attentive, and I should be sorry to hurt her feelings. Indeed, I +am quite sure she means everything for the best. But if—if you 'could' +arrange it—"</p> + +<p>The mastery which Miss Withers had evidently obtained over the old lady +in her weakness was strangely and pitifully shown. Gwendoline could +hardly control her indignation; but for Lady Halcot's sake she only +replied quietly, "I will, indeed. I promise to take care. You shall not +be alone with Miss Withers again."</p> + +<p>"Then all will be as I could wish. I have no desire for other changes. +She means well, and she is very capable. Doctor, I think I will +ask you to come again this evening. The sinking is worst then, and +perhaps you could do something to relieve it. I want a few words with +Gwendoline now, before I am too tired. And perhaps, if you should see +Miss Withers,—perhaps you could keep her in conversation down-stairs +for a few minutes? You understand I do not wish to blame her,—I am not +asking you to find fault with her,—but simply if you could detain her a +little—"</p> + +<p>The doctor said "Certainly," and took leave at once, fully +comprehending.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline went outside the door with him, closing it after her, and +said, under breath, "Would it not be possible to forbid Miss Withers +the room?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly think so," he answered, equally low. "Lady Halcot could not +stand the agitation. Do as she has asked you; and meantime I will give +Miss Withers a word of warning. It may be only a question of a few +days."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline went back to her old position, holding again the withered +hand between her own, and wondering badly what might be the import of +those words to the old lady herself. Only a few more days, perhaps! +What lay beyond?</p> + +<p>"That is what I wished," the sunken voice said. "Is the door shut, +Gwendoline? No, not locked. I do not care to offend Miss Withers, and +perhaps she might not like to come and find it locked. But Mr. Fosbrook +will detain her for a few minutes. I have something to say, and I am +anxious not to be overheard. My memory seems so weak now; but I think I +can recall—presently—what it was."</p> + +<p>"It will come back to you by and by. Don't distress yourself with +trying to remember now," Gwendoline said tenderly, as she might have +spoken to a sick child. This poor little wasted feeble creature seemed +utterly unlike the dignified Lady Halcot. "Another time will do as +well."</p> + +<p>"No, my dear; I cannot tell. The doctor does not say what is the matter +with me, and I suppose it is only old age and tiredness; but I shall +never be well again. And sometimes everything seems going from me."</p> + +<p>She looked steadily into vacancy with a strained expression, as if +seeking after wandering ideas.</p> + +<p>"Something that you did! What was it, Gwendoline? Did you give me +reason to be displeased with you? Or was it—was it your mother? I have +so much confusion of memory, I cannot disentangle things."</p> + +<p>"Mother displeased you long ago, Lady Halcot; but you have forgiven +her now, I am quite sure," said Gwendoline. "And you were displeased +with me, but I could not tell why. I think it may have been another +misunderstanding,—through Miss Withers."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; I dare say it was that," said Lady Halcot feebly. +"Something that she knew, which you did not tell me. If you had told +me, I should not have minded. But we need not go into that now. A +misunderstanding!—Yes, another misunderstanding! You are a good girl, +Gwendoline. I see it now. I wish—I wish I had not been persuaded to +alter my will."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline heard this silently.</p> + +<p>"I do not think I can alter it again; I am so tired, so very weak and +weary," continued Lady Halcot "And I am not quite sure that it would +be right. The money left for a hospital and almshouses—once given—I do +not think I could rightly take that back now. My conscience would not +approve."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed; I am sure you could not," said Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"You feel so too? That is a relief to my mind," said Lady Halcot, as if +surprised. "I thought perhaps you would be angry. Miss Withers said so +sometimes, and wished you not to know. But you do not love riches as +some do."</p> + +<p>"I think I would rather not have a very great deal of money," said +Gwendoline. "Wealth brings danger with it."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that sermon!" and a shiver passed over Lady Halcot. "Yes, I +remember. It comes back to me often, especially at night. 'Not rich +toward God.' I have so often thought since of those words. But, my +dear, you will have something, only I cannot recall how much. And I +have left four thousand pounds to Miss Withers. It is a large sum. I +think she has wanted me lately to make it eight thousand, but I could +not feel that to be right. Still, she has worked hard, and she means +so well always,—and there are her nieces and nephews too. I think now +that I have not acted quite wisely. I ought to have remembered how much +stronger your claim upon me was—of the two. But you will not grudge it +to her, Gwendoline. I cannot make any further alterations."</p> + +<p>"It will be all quite right," said Gwendoline softly. "Don't trouble +yourself any more about money. That matters so little."</p> + +<p>"I have nearly done with it. But there is the responsibility," said +Lady Halcot. Then more faintly she added, "Now I must rest."</p> + +<p>Sleep crept over her, and she lay unconscious, with her head supported +on Gwendoline's arm. Miss Withers presently came in, wearing precisely +her usual expression. Gwendoline could not have told from her face +whether or no she realized the changed aspect of affairs. Presently, +however, a movement of Lady Halcot set her free, and Miss Withers then +made signs of a desire to speak. The two moved noiselessly into the +adjoining room.</p> + +<p>"I merely wished, Miss Halcombe, to apologize for my unfortunate +mistake. It must seem strange now, but I do assure you Lady Halcot has +never expressed the slightest desire for your presence."</p> + +<p>"It does seem strange," Gwendoline answered.</p> + +<p>"If I had understood,—if I could possibly have guessed; but, indeed, +she has, on the contrary, appeared to desire nothing so much as quiet. +I have felt it my duty to secure it for her. And Mr. Fosbrook said +so much about the danger of excitement. If I have misjudged, it has +been misjudgment only. You will, I am sure, give me credit for right +motives."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline thought it as well not to enter upon a discussion +about motives. "Lady Halcot wishes to look upon the whole as a +misunderstanding," she said; "and I am willing to accept the same view. +I need say no more, except that for your own sake I am very sorry for +the way in which you have acted."</p> + +<p>Miss Withers showed no resentment. "I can quite believe that my +conduct may appear singular to you," she said meekly. "You cannot, of +course, see the matter as a whole, or know quite all that passed. Lady +Halcot is in a feeble state of mind, and says one hour what she unsays +the next. On reflection I believe you will regard the matter more +leniently."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline was silent, fearing to speak too strongly. She found patient +listening by no means easy.</p> + +<p>"Of course, if it were Lady Halcot's wish that I should not attend upon +her any more," Miss Withers suggested, with a mournful intonation,—"if +it were her wish, even, that I should leave Riversmouth—" and the +little woman's handkerchief went up to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"No," Gwendoline answered. "Lady Halcot takes the most indulgent view +possible of your conduct, and I am trying to do the same. Mr. Fosbrook +forbids all agitation, and there must be no explanations. We can make +use of you in the sick-room still; only you must please to understand +that all arrangements are entirely in my hands."</p> + +<p>"To be sure. I shall not forget," said Miss Withers.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_20">CHAPTER XX.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>LINGERING ON.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>NOR did she. During many weeks following, the little slim lady neatly +accommodated herself to her new position, appealed to Gwendoline on +all occasions, came and went as she was desired, did as she was told, +and seemed quite as well content to be second as to be first. Truly +she showed single-hearted devotion, though to no worthy aim. If the +four thousand pounds might not be doubled, Miss Withers was at least +determined that there should be no loophole of a further reason for the +legacy being halved or done away with altogether.</p> + +<p>The motive was a powerful one with Miss Withers, and it acted +powerfully on her conduct, as such baser motives not seldom do. Pride +and love of managing went down before it. A more submissive and +unobtrusive yet useful attendant could hardly have been found.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline, in her comparative inexperience, found Miss Withers an +assistant of no small value. If Miss Withers felt resentment towards +Gwendoline, it was completely veiled. A stranger would have counted her +affectionate to the older and the younger lady alike.</p> + +<p>Had Lady Halcot passed away, as the doctor with good reason expected, +in the course of the next few days or weeks, Miss Withers would have +gained the object for which she had so patiently striven.</p> + +<p>There came, however, an unlooked-for rally; not real recovery, but +a partial return to something more of life and warmth. The chill +sinking and exhaustion lessened; and Lady Halcot became able to take +an interest in things about her once more. There was no talk of +dressing, or of leaving her room, for she was far too feeble for any +such exertions, yet there seemed to be an indefinite postponement of +the end, once apparently so near. Mr. Fosbrook ascribed this rally in a +large measure to the pleasure of the old lady in having Gwendoline with +her again.</p> + +<p>Days grew into weeks, weeks lengthened into months, and still she +lingered on, sometimes better, sometimes worse. Illness had strangely +broken the formerly stern and high spirit.</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot became, as time went on, gently affectionate, patient under +suffering, grateful for every attention, altogether unlike her former +self. Could illness alone have worked such a change?</p> + +<p>She was still, as ever, exceedingly reticent on religious topics. +Gwendoline wondered often what might be going on below the surface, +but she dared not attempt to penetrate this proof-armour of reserve. +The day after her return to the sick-room, Lady Halcot had said, with +a touch of nervous shyness, "If it will not fatigue you, Gwendoline, I +should wish you to read me the Lessons every morning, as my eyes are +now so weak."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline had thankfully complied, throwing much earnest feeling into +her low-voiced utterance of the sacred words. But no conversation on +these subjects had yet become possible.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Towards the close of summer there was again a seeming advance, more +marked than any preceding; and for several days Lady Halcot was able to +dress partially, and to be wheeled into another room on the same floor. +Gwendoline spoke of recovery in a hopeful tone, and Lady Halcot moved +her head negatively. "No, my dear; it is only for a little while. But I +feel stronger just now, and I am glad to feel so. There are one or two +things which ought to be done."</p> + +<p>"Not things tiring to you, I hope," said Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"One must be tired sometimes," Lady Halcot answered calmly. "My plan +throughout life has always been to do what had to be done, and to let +bodily consequences take care of themselves. But of late I have been +unable to act; there has been such a lack of mental energy. I am more +like myself this week."</p> + +<p>She lay thinking for some minutes, while Gwendoline worked silently +by her side. Many hours each day were spent thus by the two together, +and Lady Halcot never seemed so content as when Gwendoline was her +attendant. She was not, however, a selfish invalid. Regular walks and +drives, and sufficient absence from the sick-room, were constantly +enforced; and, despite long nursing, Gwendoline had never appeared to +be in better health.</p> + +<p>"Gwendoline, I wish you to write to Mr. Selwyn for me. Stay,—is the +door shut?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—close."</p> + +<p>"I do not wish to be fanciful, but precautions are occasionally +needful. Some people have not quite such a delicate sense of honour +as others—as one could wish. I suppose early training makes a great +difference in these respects. I wish you to write to Mr. Selwyn this +morning."</p> + +<p>"Shall I at once?" asked Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"No, not here, but in your room,—presently, when Frith takes +your place. I should like you to request him to come to me +immediately,—to-morrow, if possible. Express yourself in urgent terms. +I cannot tell how long this improvement will last, and I am anxious +to take advantage of it without delay. Tell him from me that it is a +matter of serious importance. Write the letter before you go out, and +post it yourself. Say nothing to Miss Withers, if you please."</p> + +<p>"I will take great care," Gwendoline answered quietly; no shadow of +curiosity appearing in voice or look.</p> + +<p>"You are a good girl," the old lady said. "I have entire trust in you, +Gwendoline."</p> + +<p>Tears flushed quickly into Gwendoline's eyes, and her glance was full +of gratitude.</p> + +<p>"Yes, entire trust," repeated Lady Halcot. "I know you better now than +some months ago; and I would not have you other than you are in all +particulars."</p> + +<p>"I am so glad you are satisfied," Gwendoline said, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"I am fully satisfied. But sometimes I fear it is a dull life for you. +If I were a little stronger,—not so soon shaken—"</p> + +<p>"I am not dull now, indeed," said Gwendoline. "Ever since I have been +allowed to wait upon you, I have been quite happy."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, my dear!" and Lady Halcot's voice spoke of touched feeling. +"It was not by my wish that—" Then she paused. "But no need to go into +the past. We understand one another now. Yes, I believe you are happy. +Yours is a contented spirit. Still, you are young, and you ought to see +people sometimes. I could ask some of your friends here to pay you a +visit,—Miss Dewhurst, perhaps,—but I do not feel that I could stand the +fatigue. You should go home for a few weeks' change, only I hardly can +resolve to spare you just now. Do you mind waiting a little longer? It +will not be very long, Gwendoline."</p> + +<p>"I could not leave you. I could not be easy away," Gwendoline +answered earnestly. "Indeed, dear Lady Halcot, I do not want any +visitors—except—till you are better."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that will not be," Lady Halcot answered.</p> + +<p>"Except my mother!" had been the words on Gwendoline's lips. "If only +my mother might come!" she longed to say. Yet, somehow, she could +not quite resolve to speak out. She had such a dread—perhaps almost +a cowardly dread—of disturbing the present calm and placid relations +between Lady Halcot and herself. The idea of seeing Mrs. Halcombe +again seemed never to occur to the latter; though of late she had +occasionally sent a message of remembrance when Gwendoline was writing +home. Later in the day Gwendoline blamed herself much for not making +better use of what might have been a good opportunity.</p> + +<p>The letter was written and posted as Lady Halcot wished, Miss Withers +remaining in complete ignorance of the transaction.</p> + +<p>Next morning Lady Halcot seemed restless, and was constantly on the +look-out. "Do you think he will come?" she asked often of Gwendoline, +adding once, "He is a busy man. But I do not think he will disappoint +me, unless compelled to do so."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he will not," Gwendoline said. "There may be engagements +which he cannot set aside."</p> + +<p>"Yes; previous engagements. I have thought of them. But you wrote +stringently? He will not disappoint me if it can be helped," she said +again. "Let me know without delay if he should come."</p> + +<p>An immediate response to her letter was more than Gwendoline ventured +to expect; though, seeing the old lady's heart bent upon such a +response, she was not quite without hope. A telegram, promising an +early interview, seemed to her the most likely reply; but soon after +midday, to her surprise, Mr. Selwyn himself drove up to the front door. +Gwendoline was the first to greet him, and he was evidently gratified +by her improved looks. He was soon closeted with Lady Halcot; all +others, including Gwendoline, being banished.</p> + +<p>The sudden appearance of the lawyer came plainly as a shock to Miss +Withers. She looked uneasy and even unhappy the rest of the day, asking +no questions, but scrutinizing sharply others' faces. Mr. Selwyn +returned to London immediately after his tête-à-tête talk with the old +lady, not waiting even for luncheon; and as he went out of the house he +was seen to rub his hands with an air of satisfaction.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>A few days later he appeared again, and was a second time closeted +with Lady Halcot. Moreover, Mr. Fosbrook, and also the clergyman, Mr. +Rossiter, who had of late been re-admitted at the Leys and had become a +frequent caller on Lady Halcot, were both present during part of this +latter interview, evidently by previous arrangement.</p> + +<p>"What has Mr. Selwyn come for?" Miss Withers inquired suspiciously of +Gwendoline, prudence yielding before stronger motives.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline was glad to be able to reply, "I do not know, Miss Withers."</p> + +<p>She saw at once that the truthful utterance was not believed. Double +people are apt to suspect others of doubleness.</p> + +<p>"You mean that you did not expect Mr. Selwyn to come?"</p> + +<p>"No, I did not mean that," Gwendoline answered coldly, rather +astonished at the little woman's boldness. "I do not know what he has +come for."</p> + +<p>"Lady Halcot has not informed you?"</p> + +<p>"No. If she had, the information could go no farther, Miss Withers."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," Miss Withers answered with an air of would-be +indifference. "Still, one is at liberty to conjecture in such cases. +I should suppose it to have something to do with the disposal of her +property." Miss Withers' pale eyes gave one of their stealthy cat-like +glances.</p> + +<p>"Very possibly. I really see no need to trouble myself with +conjectures," said Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"No. Certainly no need. As you say, it is useless trouble. I am not at +all an inquisitive person, Miss Halcombe,—that never was my failing, I +am thankful to say. But naturally I am interested in all that concerns +our dear Lady Halcot."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline allowed the dialogue to drop, and turned away in silence. +She would have no collisions with Miss Withers which might be avoided.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_21">CHAPTER XXI.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>PARTING WORDS.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE day following was Sunday. Lady Halcot's brief improvement in health +seemed to be already on the wane. It was as if she had kept up just +long enough for the carrying out of her purposes, whatever they might +have been; and then the flickering light went down.</p> + +<p>"All is settled now, and my mind is at rest," she said calmly to +Gwendoline, after Mr. Selwyn's second visit. "There is nothing to +trouble me any more."</p> + +<p>And even before night, Gwendoline knew that she was failing.</p> + +<p>Early in the morning a marked change for the worse became apparent, and +Mr. Fosbrook, called hurriedly in, did not think well of her state. "I +have expected this for some time," he said gravely to Gwendoline. "The +only marvel is that she has gone on so long."</p> + +<p>It had been arranged that Mr. Rossiter should come in after breakfast, +to administer the Holy Communion, as he had done occasionally since she +had been entirely cut off from attending public worship. Lady Halcot +would allow no change of plan; but by the time the short service came +to an end, she was almost pulseless with exhaustion.</p> + +<p>About five o'clock in the afternoon she revived a little, and seemed +to enjoy a cup of tea. Gwendoline, who had not left her all day, was +keeping watch beside the couch, Frith being within call.</p> + +<p>"It is passing off now," Lady Halcot said. "I thought this morning that +the end was very near. Yes,—near, still, it must be. My last earthly +Communion is over."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not yet," Gwendoline broke out sorrowfully. "Don't talk about +leaving me yet."</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot's withered hand came softly on hers.</p> + +<p>"Will you be a little grieved to lose me, Gwendoline?"</p> + +<p>"A little!" Gwendoline's voice failed.</p> + +<p>"Yes; you will feel it, I know. You have been very good to me, my +dear, and I owe much to you. But you will have your mother and all of +them again,—your father,—your brothers and sisters. I am afraid the +separation has been hard to bear at times. If I were living the last +two years over again, I would arrange differently. Things that are done +cannot be undone."</p> + +<p>"We can never forget all you have done for us," murmured Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"Not more than is right. Not really much; it has involved no +self-denial. But I am thankful to have been able to make these last +arrangements—just in time. Now my mind is at rest. I believe your wish +would be, Gwendoline, that your mother should be remembered in my will +rather than yourself. I have acted on that supposition,—and it will all +revert to you later."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you! I would so much rather!" Gwendoline said earnestly.</p> + +<p>"I felt convinced that it would be so. Also, I desired that others +should see your mother reinstated in her old position, so far as can be +now."</p> + +<p>"It will make mother so happy," said Gwendoline. "I know she has always +longed to feel that you had quite forgiven her,—I mean, that you felt +as you used to feel."</p> + +<p>"Yes; you are right to alter your form of expression. It is not a case +for forgiveness,—from me towards her. Perhaps rather from her towards +me."</p> + +<p>Then, after a pause for recollection, "But I was saying something. +My wish has been to reinstate her, so far as is now possible. It is +possible only in a measure. She would once have inherited all my own +property. I do not feel, however, that I can undo the gifts for the +building of the hospital and the almshouses. I may be mistaken, but it +does not appear to me right,—even though the resolution was taken under +mixed motives—under a mistake in some measure; still I cannot think I +should act rightly in reversing that decision."</p> + +<p>"Oh no; you could not. Mother would feel the same," said Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"Yes; you agreed with me before on that question, and I was glad of it. +Your assent helped me through the difficulty. I have not forgotten. +And, after all, Mr. Selwyn finds the sum-total at my disposal to be +more than he imagined some months ago. You and your mother will not +know want. Also, I have esteemed it my duty to lessen the legacy to +Miss Withers. My opinion of her has undergone a change. Still, I do not +wish to show vexation. It has been too much my way in the past. I wish +to forgive entirely any manner of wrongdoing towards me. Miss Withers +will not find her name omitted in my remembrances to friends."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline was conscious of a slight stir behind the large screen +which stood between bed and door. She went to close the latter, and +saw a figure passing swiftly down the passage. Gwendoline drew her own +conclusions, yet she said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Yes; you are right to shut the door. I like my room kept fresh, +but it is very cold to-day. We were speaking about your mother just +now. I wish her to understand that I feel towards her as of old. All +bitterness is at an end. Sometimes, in the last week, I have considered +whether to send for her."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's heart gave a bound. "If I only might!" she said +beseechingly.</p> + +<p>"I think not. I am too weak. I do not feel that I could stand the +agitation. Give her my love, and tell her that I regard her as my dear +Eleanor. Perhaps, just at last,—but I am not sure. I wish to keep my +mind clear now for other matters."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline hardly knew whether she might say more. She ventured, after +a pause, to suggest, "Mother is such a comfort in illness."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear; but it would be agitating—would call up distressing +memories. I have but one need now, Gwendoline. I want only—Christ."</p> + +<p>Lady Halcot seemed striving to break through the chains of her lifelong +reserve. She continued, with a manifest effort,—</p> + +<p>"I think those lonely weeks were good for me—strangely so. I never knew +the feeling of loneliness before; but it came then, when I believed you +did not care to come near me, and when all my old confidence was gone. +The words of that sermon returned often, and showed me what I was. 'Not +rich toward God.' Other riches seemed so worthless. And I used to think +you could perhaps have brought comfort. But it was better so. For God +Himself helped me."</p> + +<p>Another pause followed. Gwendoline asked gently, "Was it that sermon +that made you ill?"</p> + +<p>"No; the illness was coming on before. I had felt the signs of it +without recognising them. But the words of the sermon stayed by me +afterwards, and I could not put them away. 'Poverty-stricken,' he had +said I was, and I knew it to be true."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's face begged for more; she could not ask it in words.</p> + +<p>"Some of those weeks were terribly hopeless," Lady Halcot said, in a +weary voice, as if strength were failing. "But I am glad of them now, +for I think they taught me much. I had to look to God alone, for there +was no other helper. If you had been with me, I might have leant too +much upon you."</p> + +<p>"I suppose the teaching that comes straight from Him is the best of +all," Gwendoline whispered.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I think so. Not that one would desire to choose. But He taught me +then, and He has been teaching me since—in many ways. Mr. Rossiter's +visits have been a help, and your reading too. I cannot talk much on +such matters, and I hope I do not deceive myself. I seem to have no +fears. Sometimes Christ seems so very near—so very loving. How can I +help trusting Him? After all these years of forgetfulness—so much more +than I deserve. But I think I am too weak for doctrines and doubts. +No doubt it is better so. I know He died for me. I can only just give +myself into His keeping,—like a child."</p> + +<p>The closing sentence was scarcely audible. Before Gwendoline could +resolve what answer to make, she added faintly, "I have wished to say +thus much—for your comfort. I cannot talk more. I am very weary."</p> + +<p>"You will rest now," Gwendoline said.</p> + +<p>"Yes; rest—now. It is over at last. So long—long—tired."</p> + +<p>She sank into heavy sleep, and Frith's entrance did not disturb her. +It seemed to Gwendoline that there was something unusual about this +slumber. Two hours later they had to rouse Lady Halcot, that she might +take a little nourishment, and the task proved no easy one. Still, when +Gwendoline held a spoon to her lips, she half smiled, and murmured, +"Thanks."</p> + +<p>"A little more, dear Lady Halcot," Gwendoline entreated.</p> + +<p>"No; no more. I cannot swallow. Gwendoline—is it Gwendoline?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's "Yes" came falteringly.</p> + +<p>"I can hardly see," Lady Halcot said, lifting her dim eyes. "Almost +dark. Will you kiss me, my dear Gwendoline?"</p> + +<p>The tender response brought another smile.</p> + +<p>"Yes; a good girl—you have been a good girl. It is almost over now, my +dear. And if—if you would like to send—send for your mother—yes—send—"</p> + +<p>These were nearly the last words of Lady Halcot. She fell immediately +into a state of unconsciousness bordering on coma. The doctor came, but +he found her beyond reach of remedies. A telegram had been already sent +to Mrs. Halcombe. Gwendoline had, however, small hope that she could +arrive in time.</p> + +<p>Once only Lady Halcot partially revived. A little before midnight +Gwendoline tried to give her some medicine, and it was refused. "Oh, +do, please," she said anxiously. "Do, dear Lady Halcot. Mother will be +here soon."</p> + +<p>But Lady Halcot clasped slowly her faded hands, and murmured, "No, no; +none but Christ—none but Christ now!" Then deep sleep again had her in +its keeping, and within an hour she passed away.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_22">CHAPTER XXII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>COMING.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>GWENDOLINE, numb and bewildered, could shed no tears. Frith persuaded +her to go to bed, and she lay tossing to and fro, with intervals of +stupefied stillness, sometimes journeying again through the scenes +of the last few days, sometimes recalling the events of the past two +years, sometimes unable to think at all. Sleep proved an impossibility.</p> + +<p>Her mind was in a state of restless distraction—oppressed with genuine +grief, yet by no means altogether sorrowful. While distressed for Lady +Halcot's death, and sincerely feeling the loss of a real friend, she +yet turned ever and anon with a sense of positive joy to the thought of +"home." Gwendoline almost hated herself for the joy, but she could not +do away with it. Life at the Leys had been at its best much shadowed. +The commingling of sorrow and of pleasurable anticipation amounted to +pain and strain, gradually resolving itself into a definite present +longing for her mother. The aching of heart took refuge here.</p> + +<p>By six o'clock she was up and dressed, unable any longer to lie still. +Her first move was to steal softly into the library for a "time-table," +and to look-out London trains. Mrs. Halcombe might possibly arrive a +little before eight; not sooner. Gwendoline was sure she would come +then, if possible.</p> + +<p>Two whole hours, or nearly so, of waiting. Gwendoline did not know +what to do with herself in the interim. She returned to her bedroom, +and endeavoured there to read her Bible, and to kneel for her usual +morning devotions. The Bible-reading was almost a failure. With the +utmost effort of will, she could not fix attention upon two consecutive +verses. Prayer proved a different matter. A succession of definite +petitions was beyond her power, but she could and did spend a time in +submissive wordless waiting at the Divine footstool, looking for such +help as she needed. Nor did the help fail her. When she rose, much of +the restless heart-pain was stilled.</p> + +<p>A thought flashed into her mind, to be acted upon unhesitatingly. +Gwendoline took a hat from the wardrobe, found a light flower-basket, +and went quietly down-stairs into the garden. Servants were not yet +about, and no one saw her. She made her exit through the conservatory, +unlocking the inner and outer doors.</p> + +<p>It was an exquisite morning, sunshine flooding the air. Birds sang +exuberantly, and flowers, breaking into bloom, lifted their faces +to the blue sky. The house behind, with its closed shutters, was a +contrast to this abounding life and brightness. Gwendoline looked back +sorrowfully, and thought of the small still form lying within, calmly +at rest, after nearly eighty years of life.</p> + +<p>"Yes, real rest," murmured Gwendoline, as she passed among the +rosebushes, gathering here and there a blossom of surpassing beauty. +"How could one wish to keep her? If I were so old and weary, I should +not wish to be kept. Dear Lady Halcot! How good she has been to me! +Oh, I am thankful she was not taken four or five months ago, before we +really knew one another. I must not give way to wrong feelings about +Miss Withers. After all, no lasting harm has been done—thanks to Mr. +Fosbrook; and perhaps she did not deliberately intend mischief. People +sometimes act worse than they really mean. And it is all over now—quite +at an end. I don't want to think of her with any bitterness."</p> + +<p>The basket was quickly filled from the profusion of roses around, and +Gwendoline turned homewards, entering again through the conservatory, +and leaving sunshine behind. The darkness of the silent house weighed +upon her heavily. Half-past six sounded from the hall clock, and still +she appeared to be the only person stirring. Gwendoline went slowly up +the broad staircase, and paused at Lady Halcot's door, turning the key +gently.</p> + +<p>Nobody within—except the placid figure which "had" been Lady Halcot, +now only a marble and lifeless image. No, not only; for that same form, +though "ashes to ashes, dust to dust," was its present verdict, should +yet be raised again, in new and glorious beauty, "at the Resurrection, +in the Last Day."</p> + +<p>A shiver crept over Gwendoline, not so much of fear as of sorrow. She +had been in the presence of death before, and she had no feelings of +terror. Yet, standing face to face with the cold image, she realized +what she had lost—and realized not yet what Lady Halcot had gained.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline roused herself with an effort, and began placing her +flowers, laying a crimson rose here, or a creamy bloom there, with +tender and loving fingers. The work was absorbing, and drew her out of +herself. When the basket was empty, she gave one long look, bent to +kiss the chill brow, and went quietly back into her own room.</p> + +<p>Nothing now remained but to await patiently her mother's arrival. Once +or twice the thought struck her—what if Mrs. Halcombe did not come +by this particular train? But that conjecture was put aside at once. +Gwendoline did not feel as if she could endure longer delay. After +half-past seven she took her station at the window, watching with +concentrated attention of eye and ear.</p> + +<p>Eight o'clock was not far distant, when a sound of wheels became +audible. Gwendoline caught one glimpse, through the trees, of an +approaching fly, and before it could reach the front door she was +standing there on the doorstep, in a suppressed tumult of feeling. A +little worn woman descended, and for three seconds the two held one +another in a voiceless embrace.</p> + +<p>"Gwen,—am I in time?"</p> + +<p>"No, mother; oh, mother!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, my darling, hush!"—For Gwendoline was clinging to her in a +passion of sobs, which were yet by no means all sorrow.</p> + +<p>The joy of reunion had at least an equal share in her feelings. She +was, however, overstrained by long watching, and nervous excitement +was not to be at once mastered; while the very relief of finding +herself again a child under a parent's care made self-command the more +difficult.</p> + +<p>"Hush, Gwennie," Mrs. Halcombe repeated. "Don't cry so, dear."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, if you could have been in time. But it was impossible."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Halcombe asked, "When?" in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Last night, about half-past twelve."</p> + +<p>They went slowly up the broad staircase, Mrs. Halcombe gathering at +every step fresh recollections of her girlish days spent under this +roof. Gwendoline indicated by a gesture the room in which Lady Halcot +lay.</p> + +<p>"I will go there by and by," Mrs. Halcombe said in a low voice, which +trembled somewhat.</p> + +<p>Then they reached Gwendoline's pretty boudoir. Mrs. Halcombe removed +her cloak and sat down, Gwendoline kneeling at her side, to cling anew +and shed more tears.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, it has been so long, so sad," she said, with a sigh of +mingled pain and relief. "I hardly know how the last few weeks have +gone. I love Lady Halcot dearly now, and I do miss her; but—oh, mother, +I have not known how to get on without you."</p> + +<p>"Yes; it has been very long," Mrs. Halcombe echoed. "Two whole years."</p> + +<p>"I have wondered sometimes if they ever would end, mother. It isn't +as if I had been used before to living long away from you. We were so +seldom parted. Still, I could have come back here happily now; it has +been so different of late, since dear Lady Halcot has really understood +me, and has been so gentle and loving."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Halcombe repeated the two adjectives, as if surprised, adding, +"She must have been much altered at the last. Then she did not +understand you earlier, my Gwen?"</p> + +<p>"Things were different, mother. Not so much at first as later. I could +not tell you all in letters, and it seemed useless to worry you; but +now you must hear everything. The worst was over some time ago. It has +been all right lately."</p> + +<p>"Then you really were not quite happy at one time, my dear. I felt sure +of it; yet there was nothing in your letters to take hold of."</p> + +<p>"I used to be lonely, with no one to care for me, and Lady Halcot so +changed and cold."</p> + +<p>"But, Gwen, what made her cold?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Withers came between," said Gwendoline quietly. "I could not +unravel the tangle then, but it is plain enough now. I don't like to +let myself think that she meant it all deliberately,—still—it 'was' her +doing. When Lady Halcot first fell ill, Miss Withers kept me out of the +room for weeks; and Lady Halcot had been so cold before that I did not +dare to act,—I could not tell whether she wished to see me. I did so +long for you then, mother. There was nobody to speak a kind word to me, +unless I happened to meet Mr. Rossiter or Mr. Fosbrook out of doors; +but that only happened once or twice, quite early in the illness."</p> + +<p>"If I had known the state of things, Gwen—"</p> + +<p>"Ah, but I could not bear to trouble you, mother, when I knew you could +do nothing. Mr. Fosbrook managed at last to see me alone, and to let me +know that he did not think I was shut out of the room by Lady Halcot's +own wish. Things soon came right then. I'll tell you all about it +another time; but I found that Lady Halcot had been under quite a false +impression, supposing me to keep away of my own free will. You cannot +think how happy she was to have me again. From that time she has always +seemed to trust me thoroughly. But she never would quite believe the +worst of Miss Withers; and I am trying not to feel harshly about her. I +suppose it was a great temptation to get everything into her own hands. +But here comes the tea, and you must need it."</p> + +<p>Frith herself bore the little tray. Mrs. Halcombe kept her for a few +minutes in conversation.</p> + +<p>"Lady Halcot has been a good mistress to me," Frith said, with tears in +her eyes. "I would never ask a better. There are those who counted my +lady stern; but she was always just,—always the same. I don't know what +I shall do now she is gone."</p> + +<p>Both mother and daughter felt better for a little refreshment.</p> + +<p>When Frith was gone, Mrs. Halcombe could venture at last to put the +question,—"Gwen, was there no message for me at the last?"</p> + +<p>Gwendoline told all that had passed, finding comfort in the narration. +She had not known such freedom of speech for a long while as during +this hour. Even at the best there had been always a measure of +constraint between herself and Lady Halcot, owing in part to the +intense constitutional reserve of the latter. Now she could say what +she liked, and could say it as she liked.</p> + +<p>"I shall begin to think I am a child again," she said. "It is so +wonderful to be with you, and to feel quite free, with no fear of +blundering and doing the wrong thing. Do tell me now about father and +all of them. I am thirsting for home-news. How is father?"</p> + +<p>"Quite well,—much better than he used to be; the pressure has been so +lessened of late. If it had not been for your absence,—but even in +spite of that I have sometimes thought him looking ten years younger."</p> + +<p>"If I had not come here when Lady Halcot asked me—" Gwendoline said, +half to herself.</p> + +<p>"Ah, our position would be different indeed. I see that now. You and he +were quite right, Gwennie. It would have been a positive sin to throw +aside such an offer; and you are none the worse for it, my darling, +though I am afraid you have had much more to go through than we ever +imagined. But the parting has been hard to bear at times,—the feeling +that we were so completely cut off from you, and might never venture +to come to Riversmouth. I used to lie at night and wonder how it would +be if you were taken ill,—whether Lady Halcot would relent then. Now I +see how faithless I have been. Everything has been arranged for us so +wonderfully,—so lovingly."</p> + +<p>"And I thought at one time that the plan was a punishment to me for +discontent," said Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"You don't think so now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, mother." Then in a half-bewildered voice Gwendoline broke +out—"Home!—Am I really going home,—to live there?"</p> + +<p>"Will you be sorry, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Sorry! Mother, how can you ask?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Halcombe glanced round the room. "I am afraid our house will +look very small and shabby to you after this,—not quite so crowded, +certainly, since the three have been at school,—but still—"</p> + +<p>"It is home," said Gwendoline simply. "I don't want more than that." +With a sigh she added, "Mother, it is such rest to have you here! But +go on, please,—tell me more about them all."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_23">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>LADY HALCOT'S WILL.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"IT is such rest to have you here," Gwendoline said repeatedly to her +mother; and the sense of rest grew upon her hour by hour.</p> + +<p>There was necessarily much to be done and much to be heard, mournful +in kind; but Mrs. Halcombe took things into her own hands, sparing her +child in every possible way. When the first excitement of their meeting +was over, Gwendoline proved to be temporarily unwell enough, from all +she had gone through, to need being spared.</p> + +<p>Miss Withers did not appear at breakfast that morning, and an encounter +between her and Mrs. Halcombe was thus delayed until near luncheon. +When the said encounter took place, it was quiet, not to say prosaic in +kind. Mrs. Halcombe said politely, "How do you do?" And, after a return +of the utterance, "I hope you are well. This has been a very trying +week for you all."</p> + +<p>Miss Withers assented, with downcast eyes, and a murmur of "Thanks, +yes,—exceedingly trying," and appeared anxious to get away as soon as +possible.</p> + +<p>During the next few days she studiously shunned both mother and +daughter, and looked unhappy.</p> + +<p>The funeral was conducted with heavy solemn grandeur, according to +Halcot and Riversmouth traditions.</p> + +<p>Afterward came the reading of the will; a singular document, with +its weighty addenda in the shape of long codicils carefully undoing +previous arrangements.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Halcombe and Gwendoline were, of course, present; as also were +Miss Withers, Mr. Rossiter, and Mr. Fosbrook. Mr. Selwyn had come down +from London for the occasion. The nephew, known to be the heir-at-law, +had made his appearance in time for the funeral; and there were also +three or four distant relatives, elderly gentlemen, all more or less +grave, embarrassed, and expectant. Gwendoline, treated by all as in +a sense the daughter of the house, was thankful for the help of her +mother's presence. Mrs. Halcombe quietly took the lead, and, by Mr. +Selwyn's advice, acted as temporary hostess.</p> + +<p>The Riversmouth estate, together with the title, descended as a matter +of course to the said nephew, a gentlemanly young man, Philip Halcot by +name. Most of the later alterations in the will were in respect of Lady +Halcot's disposable property, inherited chiefly from her mother.</p> + +<p>The large sums set apart for hospital and almshouses had been left +untouched; as, too, were legacies to the amount of nearly twenty +thousand pounds, left to numerous friends and distant relatives, +including the three or four present on this occasion. Old servants and +family retainers also were not forgotten. In place of four thousand +pounds to Miss Withers, five hundred pounds were left to her, and five +hundred to each of her two nieces and to Conrad.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Halcombe found herself the possessor of thirteen thousand pounds, +in addition to the yearly five hundred already given, both to be +held in trust; the thirteen thousand pounds to revert to Gwendoline +on her own death; the annual five hundred to become Gwendoline's on +either her own or her husband's death, whichever was the survivor. To +Gwendoline immediately was left the bulk of Lady Halcot's personal +possessions,—jewellery, plate, books, pictures, many valuable +knickknacks, and numerous articles of furniture.</p> + +<p>"No inconsiderable legacy," the lawyer remarked in an undertone.</p> + +<p>At the moment Gwendoline did not at all realize the worth of that which +had fallen to her share.</p> + +<p>"Mother, how good Lady Halcot has been to us! I am glad it is not +more," she breathed to Mrs. Halcombe in an undertone, as the party +present filed slowly out of the room, leaving only herself and her +mother with Mr. Selwyn.</p> + +<p>One pale-faced disappointed woman, passing out among the rest, could +not have echoed these words.</p> + +<p>"I am glad it is as much," Mr. Selwyn said, rising and coming nearer. +"There was a time when I feared matters would have a different ending. +Accept my sincere congratulations, Mrs. Halcombe. I only wish it were +more."</p> + +<p>"Don't wish that," Mrs. Halcombe answered, with a rather tremulous +smile. "Gwen and I do not. This will be wealth to us."</p> + +<p>"The jewels are a property in themselves," remarked Mr. Selwyn. "There +are some, handed down from the Halcots, which Lady Halcot did not think +she could rightly alienate from the estate. The larger proportion of +her jewellery was, however, inherited from her mother; and the bulk of +this is left to Miss Halcombe."</p> + +<p>"Lady Halcot showed me some of her jewels once," said Gwendoline. "I +thought them very pretty."</p> + +<p>Mr. Selwyn could not resist a smile. He repeated the word "Pretty!" and +stroked his chin. "Yes, undoubtedly. There are many more than you have +seen, however. The value of the jewellery alone, which now belongs to +you, amounts at the lowest estimate to several thousand pounds. They +are a property in themselves," he repeated complacently. "The diamonds +are particularly fine,—and there are good turquoises."</p> + +<p>"I shall hardly know what to do with them," said Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"You will, of course, have them in a place of safety, my dear Miss +Halcombe."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I may keep out a brooch or two for use," said Gwendoline. +"And I should like to have by me the ones that Lady Halcot used +commonly. May I give something to Ruth,—a brooch and a bracelet, I +mean?" She looked eagerly now at the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"They are your own, and you are of age," said Mr. Selwyn. "But I would +advise you not to act too hastily,—not to part with anything that you +might regret later."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I shall not regret. The best part of having more is to be able to +give away," said Gwendoline. "Mother, there is a beautiful little ruby +brooch which would just do for Ruth; she does so admire rubies. And I +should like to take Honor a gold bracelet,—quite a plain one."</p> + +<p>"There are the pictures also," observed Mr. Selwyn, after a rather +dissatisfied pause; "not to speak of a very handsome supply of plate."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline seemed rather bewildered. "The plate will be useful, of +course," she said. "I know we are always short of spoons and forks. But +the pictures,—we have so little room at home."</p> + +<p>"The number of pictures is not great, but they are of very considerable +value. Possibly you may not always remain in your present home," said +Mr. Selwyn.</p> + +<p>"No; I have had that in my mind," said Mrs. Halcombe. "We have so often +wished to move, and have not felt Justified in going to the expense. +But things will be different now. I am sure my husband will agree with +me in thinking that the right time has come."</p> + +<p>"A house in the country," suggested the lawyer, "within reasonable +distance of London, so that the boys could run in and out by train. The +pictures and furniture would prove no slight assistance in the event of +such a move; until, of course, Miss Halcombe finds a home of her own."</p> + +<p>"No fear of 'that' for a long while to come," Gwendoline answered, +smiling and not blushing.</p> + +<p>Somewhat later, when alone with her mother, Gwendoline asked, "Mother, +did you notice Miss Withers' face while the will was being read?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw. I was sorry for her."</p> + +<p>"I wish one could say something to her, mother."</p> + +<p>"Something of what sort?"</p> + +<p>"Why, to help her. She looks so unhappy."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite know what could be said. We have our suspicions—more +than suspicions—as to her share in the alterations which were made in +the will. But it would hardly do to allude to those suspicions, Gwen."</p> + +<p>"No, of course not. Only, if one could gain her confidence, mother!"</p> + +<p>"If one could! There is not much hope, I am afraid. She rebuffs most +decidedly all approaches on my part."</p> + +<p>"And on mine too. Yes, that is the difficulty. I have hardly had a +dozen words from her for days."</p> + +<p>Nor was Gwendoline to have many more. Two hours later, a closed fly +stood before the door, and some large boxes were carried out. Miss +Withers presently entered the drawing-room, wearing her bonnet, and +carrying a small travelling-bag. She seemed composed as usual, except +that her under lip twitched nervously.</p> + +<p>"I have come to say good-bye to your daughter, Mrs. Halcombe," the +smooth voice said.</p> + +<p>"Are you going already?" asked Gwendoline in surprise.</p> + +<p>"There is no object in my remaining longer. I believe you and Mrs. +Halcombe leave to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"The day after," Mrs. Halcombe answered, for she found much still to be +arranged.</p> + +<p>"There is no object in my remaining," Miss Withers said again, with the +slight twitch of her lip. "I—I had a letter yesterday from one of my +nieces, deciding me to hasten away."</p> + +<p>"You will have tea before starting?" said Gwendoline kindly.</p> + +<p>"Thanks,—no; I do not require anything, and the journey is not long."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps some day you will write and tell me how you are getting on," +said Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"Thanks. You are very good;" and Miss Withers extended a limp hand. +"Good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye. I hope you will have a pleasant journey," Gwendoline said, +kindly still, though with an effort.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," added Mrs. Halcombe.</p> + +<p>Miss Withers passed out of the room, and speedily drove away, dropping +thus in a moment, as it were, out of Gwendoline's life.</p> + +<p>Miss Withers went to reside in the same town with her nieces, bitter +in spirit at her failure; and Lady Halcot's legacies sowed dissension +between them and herself.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_24">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE OLD HOME.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>TWO days later there was a stir of excitement in the dingy London home +from which Gwendoline Halcombe had been so long absent. James, the +second lad, opportunely had a half-holiday; and with the two younger +boys, Willie and Robert, he was all the afternoon exceedingly busy, +putting up an arch of welcome inside the front door. It was not an +artistically beautiful erection. Green things are by no means easily +obtained in London, and a scanty supply of leaves had to be eked out +with much coloured paper. But none the less would the arch speak +eloquently to Gwendoline's heart.</p> + +<p>The three intermediate boys, Edmund, Frederick, and Arthur, had been +for a year past, boarders in a large school, only coming home for +the holidays. James' school-days were now drawing to a close, a good +opening in a mercantile house having been recently found for him. He +was a pleasant sensible lad, plain-featured, but warmhearted.</p> + +<p>Ruth, staidly working in the shabby little drawing-room, presently +overheard a low-voiced discussion outside her door, between +seven-years-old Bob and little fair-haired Nell, the latter being as +much as ever the family pet and plaything.</p> + +<p>"I think I shall be just a scrap afraid of Gwen," Bob said +confidentially. "She is such a grand lady, you know, Nell,—not like +mother and Ruth. Willie says there's a drawing-room at the Leys as big +as this whole house almost; and he says Gwen will be quite different, +and will always wear silk frocks, and won't like us to come too near."</p> + +<p>Ruth could picture Nell's troubled eyes, as the little voice said +tenderly, "Won't she? I'm sorry, Bob. I thought she'd want me to get up +in her lap and kiss her, because she's sorry."</p> + +<p>"Well, she won't," said Bob decidedly. "And I don't see what she has +got to be sorry for. She is a grand lady now, with lots of things +belonging to her; and she won't care, of course, to play with a little +wee thing like you."</p> + +<p>"Is mother going to be grand too?" asked Nell.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother is different! I don't think anything would make mother +grand. But you'll see about Gwen! You'll see!"</p> + +<p>Bob and Nell called Ruth suddenly; and they ran in.</p> + +<p>"Bob, you are putting very silly ideas into Nell's head,—Very silly +indeed," said Ruth, with sharpness. "Gwen is not a grand lady at all. +She is our own sister. Living in a large house and having pretty +clothes has not made her any less our sister."</p> + +<p>"And will Gwen love us, Ruth?" asked little Nell.</p> + +<p>"Of course she will," answered Ruth.</p> + +<p>"And will she like to have me kiss her?"</p> + +<p>"Of course she will. Bob has been talking great nonsense."</p> + +<p>"Willie told me," Bob said, prompt to throw off blame.</p> + +<p>"Then Willie was very absurd," said Ruth.</p> + +<p>Probably her words would have been more convincing had they been +less rough. The children exchanged glances, and did not seem greatly +reassured.</p> + +<p>"Willie was very absurd indeed to say anything of the kind," repeated +Ruth more energetically. "And you are silly children to believe him. If +you seem frightened of Gwen when she comes in, you will just make her +unhappy, that's all!"</p> + +<p>The two little listeners took this for a dismissal, and they went back +into the hall, looking subdued.</p> + +<p>"Nell, you don't remember Gwen?" Bob said softly.</p> + +<p>"No," Nell answered, shaking her small head. "Not one bit."</p> + +<p>"I don't either,—hardly at all," said Bob. "But Willie does, and he +says she is ever so much nicer than Ruth."</p> + +<p>"Does he?" asked Nell rather wonderingly, as if she found this report +of Willie's opinion at variance with the last.</p> + +<p>"Ruth speaks so 'cross,'" said Bob. "Willie says Gwen never used to +speak so cross as Ruth does, and he likes her ever so much the best. +Only you mustn't tell Ruth, you know, because that would make her +crosser."</p> + +<p>Ruth heard the words, and, strange to say, she was not angry. With a +naturally impatient and angular disposition, she could yet bear to +learn her faults. Bob's words caused a thoughtful half-hour following.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Halcombe came home, and Victor a little later, just in time.</p> + +<p>Almost immediately the front bell rang sharply, and Gwendoline ran +lightly up the steps, to find herself in the midst of welcomes. Not +quite such eager and enthusiastic welcomes as everybody had expected, +for the boys seemed suddenly seized with shyness. Two years had altered +Gwendoline, and they were sensible of the alteration, without knowing +wherein it consisted. Gwen had been a pretty girl at nineteen, but at +twenty-one the prettiness was matured and developed; her bearing had +gained much in ease and grace; and the short hair had grown long enough +to be turned up in a coil of plaits. Also, though her new mourning was +studiously simple in kind, there was about the make of her dress and +about the manner of wearing it a certain style and finish, marking her +out as apart from the other members of the family.</p> + +<p>The boys fell into silence, and Ruth for once appeared tongue-tied.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline was somehow ushered into the drawing-room, and there she +stood dreamily, her arm linked in Mr. Halcombe's, as she glanced +wistfully from one to another. "Dear old home!" she said at length. +"Oh, dear old home!"</p> + +<p>"It must look awfully shabby after the Leys," remarked Victor, plucking +up courage.</p> + +<p>"It looks small," Gwendoline admitted, smiling. "Dear old place! Oh, +father!"</p> + +<p>She turned and clung to him.</p> + +<p>"My own dear child!" he said repeatedly. "My good self-forgetting Gwen!"</p> + +<p>"No, no! Not that. But it is all over now. And indeed she was very very +good to me, and I 'did' love her very much. But this is home. Father, +kiss me again! I can hardly believe I am really here."</p> + +<p>"Gwen, did you see our triumphal arch?" asked Jem bashfully.</p> + +<p>No; Gwen had seen nothing, on first coming in, beyond the familiar +faces. She proposed to inspect it immediately, and her bright frank +gratification went far towards reinstating her in her old position with +the boys. Coming back into the drawing-room, they clustered round, +chattering in eager tones, while Nell clung to her hand confidingly.</p> + +<p>"The tea will be ready in ten minutes," said Ruth. "Would you like to +take off your bonnet, Gwen? Mother has gone to get ready."</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you please. The same room, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"No, not the same. I'll show you," Ruth said, moving towards the +staircase. "Mother thought you would like a room to yourself; and we +are not quite so crowded now except in the holidays."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline followed Ruth to her new domicile, and stood there for a few +seconds in silence, looking round.</p> + +<p>She was conscious at once of two things,—how eagerly all had done +their best to make the little room comfortable, and how very meagre +was the result after her late surroundings. But no sign of the latter +consciousness showed in her face.</p> + +<p>"Ruth, are you sure this can be spared to me?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. Quite sure. The only difficulty will be in the holidays, +and they are only just over." After a pause, Ruth added bluntly, +"Everything must seem wretched to you here at the best."</p> + +<p>"Not 'wretched,'" said Gwendoline gently.</p> + +<p>"Well, shabby and poor and disagreeable. I should hate it all, in your +place."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, you would not. It is home; and the other never seemed like +home."</p> + +<p>"Home isn't always necessarily the very best thing that can be in +life," said Ruth rather wearily. "At least, I don't find it so. One may +have too much of it."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline looked at her sister doubtfully. "Why, Ruth—" she began, and +stopped.</p> + +<p>"You have been away for two years, so of course you are no judge," said +Ruth. "And you used to feel the same."</p> + +<p>"But I thought—" Gwen hesitated again, recalling Ruth's sharp lectures +to herself, in past days, upon discontent, yet hardly liking to allude +to them.</p> + +<p>"Never mind me. I am only cross," said Ruth, recurring in mind to Bob's +words. "It's of no consequence."</p> + +<p>"I would rather know what really is the matter," said Gwendoline.</p> + +<p>"Nothing is the matter. I tell you I am only cross. One must grumble +sometimes. It is such a tread-mill of a life,—always going on the +same,—nothing but doing things for other people, and never having any +gratitude in return. Not one of the boys cares for me as they all do +for you. And I have not had a night out of this house for four years."</p> + +<p>"No. I have thought of that, Ruth dear. Mother and I were talking about +it only yesterday. We want to arrange for you to have a holiday."</p> + +<p>"There is nowhere to go. Nobody wants me."</p> + +<p>"There is Riversmouth," Gwendoline said, with rather a sad smile. "I +should like you to see the place where I have been so long. How would +you like two or three weeks there?"</p> + +<p>Ruth's eyes brightened, but she only said, "I can't go alone. Don't +talk nonsense, Gwen. I shall do very well."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you will. Mother told me she did not believe you were +quite strong, and now I can see it for myself. You want a little +change, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"Anybody would in this stuffy London atmosphere, after four years," +Ruth said rather gruffly. "But it is no matter to anybody except +myself."</p> + +<p>"Well, we shall all have a change, by and by, if we take another +house," said Gwen.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose we really shall?" Ruth looked eager as she put the +question. "We seem such fixtures here, like limpets grown to a rock."</p> + +<p>"Mother seems to have no doubt about the matter. Of course she cannot +speak decidedly till she has talked things over with father, but she +knows beforehand what he will say. A nice little house with a garden, +in the country, but near enough to London by train for the boys to run +in and out. Don't you think that sounds tempting, Ruth?"</p> + +<p>Ruth's "Yes" was listless. "If I could really believe it!" she added.</p> + +<p>"You will not be so sceptical soon," said Gwendoline brightly. "But of +course that cannot take place directly, and mother and I want you to +have a change the very first thing. I don't know exactly how it is to +be arranged—"</p> + +<p>"Ruth! Gwen! Ruth! Tea is getting cold!" shouted Victor, from +down-stairs. "And something is waiting for Gwen!"</p> + +<p>"Something!" repeated Gwendoline. She opened the door to call, "Yes, +we are coming, Victor," and then drew hastily from her bag a tiny +cardboard box. "Ruth, I want just to give you this first. I should have +liked to bring several things, but mother would not let me do more in a +hurry. I hope you will think it pretty."</p> + +<p>Ruth opened the box, and flushed with pleasure. A small round brooch +lay upon white cotton wool—itself a mass of rubies clustered together, +rich, and yet simple. Ruth quite gasped. "Gwen!—This isn't for me."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I know your fancy for rubies. Do you care to have it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gwen!"</p> + +<p>Ruth's one kiss spoke volumes. Then they ran down-stairs together.</p> + +<p>"Here, Gwen,—look!" exclaimed a chorus.</p> + +<p>The tea-table had been laid as for a festive occasion, bearing Ruth's +best efforts in the shape of fancy-bread and cakes. Gwen's seat was +by her father, Nell's high chair being on her other side. And beside +Gwen's plate lay a magnificent bunch of hothouse flowers, filling the +room with fragrance.</p> + +<p>"Mother!" Gwendoline exclaimed in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Who do you think it is from?" asked Victor.</p> + +<p>Gwen's eyes went to her mother. "Not Honor?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Gwen's first idea is always Honor," said Victor, feeling himself once +more on easy brotherly terms.</p> + +<p>"No, not Honor," said Mrs. Halcombe, smiling.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's look was unmistakably perplexed.</p> + +<p>"Have you forgotten your friend, Mr. Selwyn?" asked Victor.</p> + +<p>"Is it really from Mr. Selwyn? How good of him!"</p> + +<p>"It is 'a' Mr. Selwyn," Victor said softly by her side. "But he isn't a +lawyer, and he has a limp."</p> + +<p>Gwen's colour rose slightly. "Very kind," she said. "Was there any +message from Mr. Selwyn, mother?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear. Mr. Mortimer Selwyn simply gave in the bouquet, said it was +'for Miss Halcombe,' and asked if you were well after your journey. +Jane begged him to come in, but he declined."</p> + +<p>"I suppose they ought to go into water," said Gwendoline quietly. +"Ruth, have we a vase large enough?"</p> + +<p>A China flower-pot served the required purpose, in default of a +sufficiently capacious vase. The boys insisted on its being placed +exactly in her front, and Gwen's half-pleased half-perplexed look was a +pretty study in her mother's eyes.</p> + +<p>Tea went on merrily thereafter,—such a joyous meal as Gwendoline +had not known for two years past. She felt strangely dreamy, almost +oppressed,—happy in the present, yet bewildered by the unwonted stir, +and haunted constantly by vivid recollections of Lady Halcot's face and +voice. The strain was becoming too much, and the boys' high spirits +were almost more than she could stand. She was positively thankful when +tea came to an end, and Mrs. Halcombe said, in a low voice, "You are +tired, Gwen. We must give you a quiet evening."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline's face quivered irresistibly. "It isn't much, mother," she +said. "I am very very glad to be here again—only just now and then +everything seems to come back,—and I hear 'her' voice so plainly—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw; dear child! But the boys don't understand, of course."</p> + +<p>"I can't expect that they should. Mother, I think I will go to my room +for just half an hour. I should like to be alone,—but that will be long +enough."</p> + +<p>"Yes, darling."</p> + +<p>The brief response was the best she could have given. Gwendoline +vanished, and Mrs. Halcombe quietly exerted herself to keep everybody +away from Gwen's door. She could well understand the sharp contrast +between life in this house and life at the Leys, and could well believe +the mingling of joy and pain which so tried Gwendoline's fortitude.</p> + +<p>The half-hour at an end, she went herself to Gwendoline's room, and +with a light tap entered. Gwen was seated by her dressing-table, with +an open Bible near, though seemingly not reading. The face which +greeted Mrs. Halcombe was calm and happy.</p> + +<p>"Better, Gwennie?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, mother. It was stupid to be so easily upset."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Halcombe sat down beside her, and said, "You are accustomed to +being a good deal alone."</p> + +<p>"Yes, too much, I am afraid. It seems quite strange to have so many +round me. I hope I have not grown unsociable."</p> + +<p>"It is not that to-night, dear. You have had a great deal to try you."</p> + +<p>"Yes—perhaps—altogether," Gwendoline admitted. "But thinking about dear +Lady Halcot is not 'only' pain, mother. It must be such rest to her."</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you, Gwen, what a pleasure it is to me that you were +able to give her real love," Mrs. Halcombe said.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_25">CHAPTER XXV.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>WINDINGS-UP.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"I CANNOT think why Honor does not come in, if only for a minute," +Gwendoline said more than once, in the course of her first evening. +No one took any particular notice of the remark, and Gwen waited +patiently, stilling herself with the certainty that Honor had some good +reason. Perhaps she would not intrude on the family circle so soon. +"But Honor might have been sure of a welcome," Gwen thought.</p> + +<p>Next morning, after breakfast, Mrs. Halcombe said unexpectedly, "Gwen, +are you going to see Honor this morning?"</p> + +<p>"I wish I could, mother. No use, I am afraid, for she will be away at +her painting. I quite thought she would have come last night."</p> + +<p>"I think you had better call. Honor is not well, and she will be at +home."</p> + +<p>"Honor ill!"</p> + +<p>"Not ill now. She has been so,—not dangerously, but it was a sharp +attack. She is very much pulled down, and cannot work yet."</p> + +<p>"Mother, why did you not tell me before?" Gwen asked, almost +reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"Honor would not allow it. She made us promise not to say a word to +you sooner than was necessary. She could not bear you to be troubled. +It was about three weeks ago that the attack began, and, having just +written to you, she knew you would not expect to hear again for a time. +Honor always thinks of everybody except herself. But Ruth and I have +been in and out constantly, and have done our best to brighten her up."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline had tears in her eyes. "My poor Honor! Ill, and never to let +me know!"</p> + +<p>"It seemed to be Honor's chief comfort that you did not know. How she +does love you, Gwen!" the mother added affectionately. "But, indeed, I +do not wonder."</p> + +<p>"What has been the matter?" Gwen asked, answering the last words with a +kiss.</p> + +<p>"I hardly know. Too much application at her painting, and not enough +exercise, and a severe chill. She is a generous creature, and gives +away too much, and then has to work doubly hard. I promised that you +should go to her this morning, Gwen. Wait one moment; I want to say +something about our idea of sending Ruth to Riversmouth."</p> + +<p>"Ruth seemed to like the idea," Gwendoline said, trying to curb her +impatience.</p> + +<p>"Yes, very much, and she really needs a change. Your father thinks the +same. But I cannot be the one to go with her."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would," Gwen said affectionately.</p> + +<p>"No; I have just been away, and there is so much to arrange. Besides, I +really cannot resolve to part with you quite so soon. But what do you +say to sending Honor as Ruth's companion?"</p> + +<p>"Mother! What a perfectly delightful idea!"</p> + +<p>"It would do Honor good, and be just the thing for Ruth. Your father +and I both wish it, dear; and you must tell Honor she will be doing us +a real kindness. Ruth has grown so fond of her lately that she is sure +to like the plan."</p> + +<p>"Delightful!" repeated Gwendoline. "Mother, how you always think of +exactly the right thing! When do you suppose they can go?"</p> + +<p>"Honor ought to have change in a few days, her doctor says. I fancy she +has been in some difficulty how to manage it. Now, darling, I will not +keep you longer. Say whatever you like, only make Honor understand that +the expense will be our affair."</p> + +<p>"After to-day I am going to take up housekeeping, and give you a little +rest," Gwendoline said, kissing her mother, and she ran up-stairs with +a light step, singing softly by the way.</p> + +<p>"Dear child!" Mrs. Halcombe murmured. "Not in the least spoilt."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Honora Dewhurst had not yet risen. Her bedroom was small, and at the +back of the house, with a window which looked out upon a high wall. +Inside all was daintily nice, however simple. Honor's own plain face +hardly looked handsomer for illness; yet the peace stamped upon it +was such that even a careless looker-on must have been attracted. She +lay quietly, with her hands folded one over the other, and her eyes +fixed upon the tiny scrap of grey sky visible through one window-pane. +Suddenly a voice at the door said,—</p> + +<p>"Honor, may I come in?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Gwen."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline entered softly, bearing a choice little bunch of hothouse +flowers, gathered out of her big bouquet. Honor had never seen her +look more brilliantly pretty. Mourning was becoming to her clear and +fair complexion, and the bright flush on either cheek, matched by the +sparkling eyes, was tempered by an expression of gentle solicitude. But +Gwen's face changed suddenly at the first glimpse of Honor's smile. +Dropping her flowers on the bed, she clasped her friend's hand, and hid +her face in the pillow.</p> + +<p>"Why, Gwennie!—My dear Gwennie!" said Honor.</p> + +<p>Gwendoline lifted a pair of wet eyes. "Honor, why didn't you tell me +you were ill?"</p> + +<p>"My dear child, what was the use? I am getting on all right now,—able +to sit up half the day at least. I hope to be at my painting again next +week."</p> + +<p>"That you certainly will not," said Gwen resolutely. "Honor, what had +you been thinking about just before I came in?"</p> + +<p>Honor did not answer the question. She turned Gwen towards the light, +saying, "So,—let me see. Yes; the face is the same,—not changed by +absence, and not spoilt by all the grandeur."</p> + +<p>"I used to be very tired of the grandeur sometimes."</p> + +<p>"And now you will be sometimes very tired of its absence."</p> + +<p>"I hope not. It is very sweet to be at home again,—only just at first +everything seems strange. Honor, everything seems so happy just +now,—almost everything! Only I do wish I could see you well."</p> + +<p>"Wait a few days, dear."</p> + +<p>"Yes; a few days. Mother and I are going to ask a great favour of you +then."</p> + +<p>Honor's look was questioning.</p> + +<p>"Ruth wants change. She is rather overdone, and not quite herself. We +think of sending her to Riversmouth for two or three weeks, perhaps +a month. And the difficulty is, whom to send with her. Mother cannot +well get away just now. So we want you to go, and to be there with +Ruth,—just as if you were one of ourselves. You understand, Honor? +Ruth would see after the housekeeping; and of course it would cost you +nothing,—only you would just be Ruth's companion."</p> + +<p>"And duenna," suggested Honor.</p> + +<p>"Yes; if you like. I am not going to hear one word against the plan. +Mother and I have quite set our hearts upon it. And I shall write to +Mr. Fosbrook, and ask him to consider you his patient. You are 'not' to +say No."</p> + +<p>Honor seemed to have no such intention. She only answered quietly, "It +is very good of your mother. Something always comes up when needed."</p> + +<p>"And you know this is needed."</p> + +<p>"The doctor says I ought to have a change before beginning work. But I +could not quite see my way to it. This illness has been an expense."</p> + +<p>"And going to Riversmouth is to be no expense,—you understand, Honor? +Mind,—it must and shall be just as mother and I wish."</p> + +<p>"I suppose no answer can be made to 'must' and 'shall,' in such a +determined voice," said Honor, laughing. "Dear Gwen, I shall like it +very much indeed. Tell your mother so, please, with my warm thanks. I +suppose you will not mind Ruth seeing my uncle and aunt while we are +there. That could hardly be avoided."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. How pleased they will be!"</p> + +<p>"I did think of proposing to run down to them by and by, for a week; +but I know their spare room is engaged at present."</p> + +<p>"And a week would not be long enough," Gwen said. "What were you +thinking about just before I came in, Honor?"</p> + +<p>"You, dear."</p> + +<p>"Not only that. I saw something else in your face."</p> + +<p>"Something else in connection with you. I had been thinking how +wonderfully God shapes life for us,—and how little we know ourselves +which is the best path for us to tread."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember, when I was going away to Riversmouth,—when you and I +were on the platform,—how it seemed to me that perhaps I was being sent +there in punishment for murmuring? And you told me I had hard thoughts +of God."</p> + +<p>"Many of His children have," said Honor. "Not that He does 'not' +punish. It is necessary at times. But we often misjudge our Father's +loving motives."</p> + +<p>"I think I know that better now. I think I have learnt more of His +lovingness while I have been away," said Gwendoline, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"And perhaps you are more willing now, Gwen, than you used to be, to +let Him plan life for you."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; I do hope so. And that was what you had in your mind?" Gwen +asked again, as if hardly satisfied.</p> + +<p>"That, partly. I was thinking, too, how wonderful it will all look to +us, by and by, when the whole story of our life lies spread before our +sight. I don't suppose we shall wish 'then' to have had one single +trouble less, or one pain less, or one arrangement different. Except, +of course, such arrangements as we have made wilfully for ourselves. +God's choice is always the very best for us."</p> + +<p>"I can believe that now easily enough. When I had to go away to +Riversmouth, it did seem as if there were a great deal of pain in life."</p> + +<p>"My dear child, there will be pain still. There must be," Honor said +tenderly. "Don't expect perfect freedom from it. After your quiet +existence at the Leys, you will be tried by the stir and the rubs of +family life. I don't see how it can be otherwise. But you must just +take them as God's will for you."</p> + +<p>"I know one thing," Gwen said; "I do thank God for giving me such a +friend as you are, Honor."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The Riversmouth scheme came off as planned by Mrs. Halcombe. Ten days +later—by which time Gwendoline had quite settled down into her old +home-nook—Ruth and Honor departed together for a month at Riversmouth. +Ruth's spirits had gradually risen at the prospect of her holiday, till +the boys declared her to be hardly recognisable.</p> + +<p>Gwen saw them off from the station, and at the last moment said softly, +"I have written to Mr. Fosbrook."</p> + +<p>"Gwen, there was no need," said Honor. "I only want sea air now."</p> + +<p>"Mother and I thought differently. I have asked him to count you his +patient. So you will see him," Gwen answered, smiling, as the train +moved.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fosbrook failed not to fulfil his charge. Letters from the +absentees spoke of one call, and then of another.</p> + +<p>The doctor's sister next made her appearance, and proved exceedingly +agreeable. Invitations to tea followed, and, for a busy individual, Mr. +Fosbrook seemed to be very often disengaged.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "He is a kind man, and we like him very much," Ruth wrote. "He and +Honor get on capitally, and seem to have any amount of things to talk +about. I like Miss Fosbrook too, happily, for she generally falls to my +share. Honor is enjoying herself immensely, and so am I."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Gwendoline did not read "between the lines," as did her more +experienced mother, and she noticed without understanding Mrs. +Halcombe's curious smile over this letter.</p> + +<p>The month was lengthened out to five weeks, and then the two returned, +both looking well, healthy, and sunburnt.</p> + +<p>"It has been a delicious time," was the verdict of both.</p> + +<p>Honor spent that first evening with her friends, the Halcombes; and +Gwendoline noticed her look of quiet happiness as something beyond +what was usual. Not till the close of the evening, when putting on her +bonnet in Gwendoline's room, did Honor say,—</p> + +<p>"Gwen, I have news for you."</p> + +<p>"What news?" Gwen asked.</p> + +<p>"Guess."</p> + +<p>"I can't guess. What about?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to live at Riversmouth altogether."</p> + +<p>Gwendoline looked hard at Honora. "Going to live at Riversmouth! Not +really? Have the Widringtons offered you a home?"</p> + +<p>"No; but somebody else has. You told me I should like Mr. Fosbrook, and +I do. He is a good man, Gwen."</p> + +<p>"Honor!" was all Gwendoline could say.</p> + +<p>"A startling idea, is it not?" said Honor, blushing. "True, however."</p> + +<p>"But you don't mean—'that!' Not really! Oh, I am so glad."</p> + +<p>"I am to be Mrs. Fosbrook by and by," said Honor softly. "Nobody knows +it yet,—not even Ruth. I wanted you to be the first to hear."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Honor! And you won't have to work for your living any longer."</p> + +<p>"Well, no,—not exactly," Honor said, half drily. Then a smile broke +over her face, and she added, "I am very happy, Gwen."</p> + +<p>"And I am so glad. So glad for your sake, I mean,—not for mine. And for +Mr. Fosbrook's."</p> + +<p>"And for yours too. What makes one of us happy makes the other happy. +My dear child, you will not lose me. We shall often arrange to meet. +Is it not strange?—He says I have never been out of his mind since the +day we met at my uncle's house, when you had saved the little boy from +drowning. And I thought he was fascinated by you."</p> + +<p>"By me! No, indeed!" Gwen answered. "I always liked Mr. Fosbrook, but +there never was anything of that sort,—not the least shadow of it."</p> + +<p>Something "of that sort" was, however, already looming in the distance, +and Honor knew it.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Mortimer Selwyn had to wait long and patiently for the fulfilment +of his desire. Wisely, he would not precipitate matters, or act +with undue haste. Gwendoline was now more than ever the darling of +her home-circle; also, she was much occupied, and very happy in her +occupations. The change of house from London to country made everybody +busy, and Gwen seemed to be ever the centre of all that went on. A +pretty dwelling in a healthy situation was found after much searching, +and at Michaelmas the move took place. No sooner were the Halcombes +settled in, than Gwendoline entered upon a round of parish work, under +their new and excellent vicar; and her hands were speedily full. +Mortimer found it no easy task to see anything of her.</p> + +<p>Then came the great event of Honor's wedding. She was married from the +Halcombes' new house, Mr. Halcombe giving her away, while Gwendoline +and Ruth were her bride's-maids. Mortimer Selwyn was present at the +wedding, and made some use of his opportunity. Gwendoline began to +show a consciousness of his attentions, and she did not display any +aversion; but that was all.</p> + +<p>Mortimer waited still, biding his time. He had the comfort of Mr. +and Mrs. Halcombe's full concurrence, and of his own father's hearty +approval. When at length, after many months, he ventured to speak, +Gwendoline had no difficulty in giving him an answer. Dearly as she +loved her own home, she knew then that another home might be still +dearer.</p> + +<p>About a year and a half after the death of Lady Halcot, Gwendoline +became Mrs. Mortimer Selwyn. Hers would be still no idle life. Mortimer +was a man of ample means, and of countless benevolent schemes. +Gwendoline delighted thenceforward to work hand in hand with him, +serving the Master whom they loved.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +Printed by<br> +MORRISON & GIBB LIMITED<br> +Edinburgh<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77349 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/77349-h/images/image001.jpg b/77349-h/images/image001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..52d4d33 --- /dev/null +++ b/77349-h/images/image001.jpg diff --git a/77349-h/images/image002.jpg b/77349-h/images/image002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..20e62d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/77349-h/images/image002.jpg diff --git a/77349-h/images/image003.jpg b/77349-h/images/image003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..60745b2 --- /dev/null +++ b/77349-h/images/image003.jpg diff --git a/77349-h/images/image004.jpg b/77349-h/images/image004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7352810 --- /dev/null +++ b/77349-h/images/image004.jpg diff --git a/77349-h/images/image005.jpg b/77349-h/images/image005.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e34836d --- /dev/null +++ b/77349-h/images/image005.jpg diff --git a/77349-h/images/image006.jpg b/77349-h/images/image006.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1b9a62 --- /dev/null +++ b/77349-h/images/image006.jpg diff --git a/77349-h/images/image007.jpg b/77349-h/images/image007.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d02581d --- /dev/null +++ b/77349-h/images/image007.jpg diff --git a/77349-h/images/image008.jpg b/77349-h/images/image008.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f59d769 --- /dev/null +++ b/77349-h/images/image008.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, 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. 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