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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:29:34 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:29:34 -0700 |
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diff --git a/7378-h/7378-h.htm b/7378-h/7378-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fea5d72 --- /dev/null +++ b/7378-h/7378-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11958 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Chantry House, by Charlotte M. Yonge</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Chantry House, by Charlotte M. Yonge, +Illustrated by W. J. Hennessy + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: Chantry House + + +Author: Charlotte M. Yonge + + + +Release Date: November 14, 2014 [eBook #7378] +[This file was first posted on April 22, 2003] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHANTRY HOUSE*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1905 Macmillan and Co. edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/fpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"What I do remember, is my mother reading to me as I lay in my +crib. p. 3" +title= +"What I do remember, is my mother reading to me as I lay in my +crib. p. 3" + src="images/fps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1>CHANTRY HOUSE</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +CHARLOTTE M. YONGE</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">AUTHOR OF +‘THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFE,’ ‘UNKNOWN TO +HISTORY,’ ETC.</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"A feeble water-coloured drawing of the trio. p. 2" +title= +"A feeble water-coloured drawing of the trio. p. 2" + src="images/tps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">ILLUSTRATED +BY W. J. HENNESSY</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">London<br /> +MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</span><br +/> +1905</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall"><i>All +rights reserved</i></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER I.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">A Nursery Prose</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page1">1</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER II.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Schoolroom Days</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page11">11</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER III.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Win and Slow</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page17">17</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER IV.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Ubi Lapsus, Quid Feci</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page25">25</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER V.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A <span class="smcap">Helping Hand</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page34">34</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER VI.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Valley of Humiliation</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page43">43</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER VII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Inheritance</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page50">50</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER VIII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Old House</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page59">59</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER IX.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Rats</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page67">67</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER X.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Our Tuneful Choir</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page73">73</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XI.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>‘<span class="smcap">They Fordys</span>’</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page82">82</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sophia’s Feud</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page89">89</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XIII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A <span class="smcap">Scrape</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page96">96</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XIV.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Mullion Chamber</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page107">107</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XV.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Rational Theories</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page117">117</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XVI.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Cat Language</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page126">126</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XVII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Siege of Hillside</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page136">136</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XVIII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Portrait</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page149">149</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XIX.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The White Feather</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page159">159</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XX.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Veni, Vidi, Vici</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page171">171</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXI.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Outside of the +Courtship</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page179">179</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Bristol Diamonds</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page186">186</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXIII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Quicksands</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page198">198</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXIV.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">After the Tempest</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page208">208</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXV.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Holiday-making</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page217">217</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXVI.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>C. <span class="smcap">Morbus, Esq</span>.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page229">229</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXVII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Peter’s Thunderbolt</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page236">236</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXVIII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A <span class="smcap">Squire of Dames</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page245">245</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXIX.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Love and Obedience</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page251">251</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXX.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Una or Duessa</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page260">260</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXXI.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Facilis Descensus</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page269">269</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXXII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Waly, Waly</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page278">278</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXXIII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The River’s Bank</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page284">284</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXXIV.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Not in Vain</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page293">293</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXXV.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Griff’s Bird</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page299">299</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXXVI.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Slack Water</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page307">307</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXXVII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Outward Bound</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page316">316</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER +XXXVIII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Too Late</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page328">328</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXXIX.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A <span class="smcap">Purpose</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page337">337</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XL.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Midnight Chase</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page344">344</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XLI.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Wills Old and New</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page350">350</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XLII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">On a Spree</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page357">357</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XLIII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Price</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page364">364</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XLIV.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Paying the Cost</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page371">371</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XLV.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Achieved</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page378">378</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XLVI.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Restitution</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page385">385</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XLVII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Fordyce Story</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page392">392</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XLVIII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Last Discovery</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page399">399</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p>‘What I do remember, is my mother reading to me as I +lay in my crib’</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>Frontispiece</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A feeble water-coloured drawing of the trio</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>Vignette</i>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>‘That is poor Margaret who married your +ancestor’</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>Page</i> <span +class="imageref"><a href="#image154">154</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Lady Margaret’s ghost</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image346">346</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 1</span>CHAPTER +I.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A NURSERY PROSE.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘And if it be the heart of man<br /> + Which our existence measures,<br /> +Far longer is our childhood’s span<br /> + Than that of manly pleasures.</p> +<p>‘For long each month and year is then,<br /> + Their thoughts and days extending,<br /> +But months and years pass swift with men<br /> + To time’s last goal descending.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Isaac +Williams</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> united force of the younger +generation has been brought upon me to record, with the aid of +diaries and letters, the circumstances connected with Chantry +House and my two dear elder brothers. Once this could not +have been done without more pain than I could brook, but the +lapse of time heals wounds, brings compensations, and, when the +heart has ceased from aching and yearning, makes the memory of +what once filled it a treasure to be brought forward with joy and +thankfulness. Nor would it be well that some of those +mentioned in the coming narrative should be wholly forgotten, and +their place know them no more.</p> +<p>To explain all, I must go back to a time long before the +morning when my father astonished us all by exclaiming, +‘Poor old James Winslow! So Chantry House is came to +us after all!’ Previous to that event I do not think +we were aware of the existence of that place, far less of its +being a possible inheritance, for my parents would never have +permitted themselves or their family to be unsettled by the +notion of doubtful contingencies.</p> +<p>My father, John Edward Winslow, was a barrister, and held an +appointment in the Admiralty Office, which employed him for many +hours of the day at Somerset House. My mother, whose maiden +name was Mary Griffith, belonged to a naval family. Her +father had been lost in a West Indian hurricane at sea, and her +uncle, Admiral Sir John Griffith, was the hero of the family, +having been at Trafalgar and distinguished himself in cutting out +expeditions. My eldest brother bore his name. The +second was named after the Duke of Clarence, with whom my mother +had once danced at a ball on board ship at Portsmouth, and who +had been rather fond of my uncle. Indeed, I believe my +father’s appointment had been obtained through his +interest, just about the time of Clarence’s birth.</p> +<p>We three boys had come so fast upon each other’s heels +in the Novembers of 1809, 10, and 11, that any two of us used to +look like twins. There is still extant a feeble +water-coloured drawing of the trio, in nankeen frocks, and long +white trowsers, with bare necks and arms, the latter twined +together, and with the free hands, Griffith holding a bat, +Clarence a trap, and I a ball. I remember the emulation we +felt at Griffith’s privilege of eldest in holding the +bat.</p> +<p>The sitting for that picture is the only thing I clearly +remember during those earlier days. I have no recollection +of the disaster, which, at four years old, altered my life. +The catastrophe, as others have described it, was that we three +boys were riding cock-horse on the balusters of the second floor +of our house in Montagu Place, Russell Square, when we indulged +in a general <i>mêlée</i>, which resulted in all +tumbling over into the vestibule below. The others, to whom +I served as cushion, were not damaged beyond the power of +yelling, and were quite restored in half-an-hour, but I was +undermost, and the consequence has been a curved spine, dwarfed +stature, an elevated shoulder, and a shortened, nearly useless +leg.</p> +<p>What I do remember, is my mother reading to me Miss +Edgeworth’s <i>Frank and the little do Trusty</i>, as I lay +in my crib in her bedroom. I made one of my nieces hunt up +the book for me the other day, and the story brought back at once +the little crib, or the watered blue moreen canopy of the big +four-poster to which I was sometimes lifted for a change; even +the scrawly pattern of the paper, which my weary eyes made into +purple elves perpetually pursuing crimson ones, the foremost of +whom always turned upside down; and the knobs in the Marseilles +counterpane with which my fingers used to toy. I have heard +my mother tell that whenever I was most languid and suffering I +used to whine out, ‘O do read <i>Frank and the little dog +Trusty</i>,’ and never permitted a single word to be +varied, in the curious childish love of reiteration with its +soothing power.</p> +<p>I am afraid that any true picture of our parents, especially +of my mother, will not do them justice in the eyes of the young +people of the present day, who are accustomed to a far more +indulgent government, and yet seem to me to know little of the +loyal veneration and submission with which we have, through life, +regarded our father and mother. It would have been reckoned +disrespectful to address them by these names; they were through +life to us, in private, papa and mamma, and we never presumed to +take a liberty with them. I doubt whether the petting, +patronising equality of terms on which children now live with +their parents be equally wholesome. There was then, +however, strong love and self-sacrificing devotion; but not +manifested in softness or cultivation of sympathy. Nothing +was more dreaded than spoiling, which was viewed as idle and +unjustifiable self-gratification at the expense of the objects +thereof. There were an unlucky little pair in Russell +Square who were said to be ‘spoilt children,’ and who +used to be mentioned in our nursery with bated breath as a kind +of monsters or criminals. I believe our mother laboured +under a perpetual fear of spoiling Griff as the eldest, Clarence +as the beauty, me as the invalid, Emily (two years younger) as +the only girl, and Martyn as the after-thought, six years below +our sister. She was always performing little acts of +conscientiousness, little as we guessed it.</p> +<p>Thus though her unremitting care saved my life, and was such +that she finally brought on herself a severe and dangerous +illness, she kept me in order all the time, never wailed over me +nor weakly pitied me, never permitted resistance to medicine nor +rebellion against treatment, enforced little courtesies, insisted +on every required exertion, and hardly ever relaxed the rule of +Spartan fortitude in herself as in me. It is to this +resolution on her part, carried out consistently at whatever +present cost to us both, that I owe such powers of locomotion as +I possess, and the habits of exertion that have been even more +valuable to me.</p> +<p>When at last, after many weeks, nay months, of this +watchfulness, she broke down, so that her life was for a time in +danger, the lack of her bracing and tender care made my life very +trying, after I found myself transported to the nursery, scarcely +understanding why, accused of having by my naughtiness made ray +poor mamma so ill, and discovering for the first time that I was +a miserable, naughty little fretful being, and with nobody but +Clarence and the housemaid to take pity on me.</p> +<p>Nurse Gooch was a masterful, trustworthy woman, and was laid +under injunctions not to indulge Master Edward. She +certainly did not err in that respect, though she attended +faithfully to my material welfare; but woe to me if I gave way to +a little moaning; and what I felt still harder, she never said +‘good boy’ if I contrived to abstain.</p> +<p>I hear of carpets, curtains, and pictures in the existing +nurseries. They must be palaces compared with our great +bare attic, where nothing was allowed that could gather +dust. One bit of drugget by the fireside, where stood a +round table at which the maids talked and darned stockings, was +all that hid the bare boards; the walls were as plain as those of +a workhouse, and when the London sun did shine, it glared into my +eyes through the great unshaded windows. There was a deal +table for the meals (and very plain meals they were), and two or +three big presses painted white for our clothes, and one cupboard +for our toys. I must say that Gooch was strictly just, and +never permitted little Emily, nor Griff—though he was very +decidedly the favourite,—to bear off my beloved woolly dog +to be stabled in the houses of wooden bricks which the two were +continually constructing for their menagerie of maimed +animals.</p> +<p>Griff was deservedly the favourite with every one who was not, +like our parents, conscientiously bent on impartiality. He +was so bright and winning, he had such curly tight-rolled hair +with a tinge of auburn, such merry bold blue eyes, such glowing +dimpled cheeks, such a joyous smile all over his face, and such a +ringing laugh; he was so strong, brave, and sturdy, that he was a +boy to be proud of, and a perfect king in his own way, making +every one do as he pleased. All the maids, and Peter the +footman, were his slaves, every one except nurse and mamma, and +it was only by a strong effort of principle that they resisted +him; while he dragged Clarence about as his devoted though not +always happy follower.</p> +<p>Alas! for Clarence! Courage was not in him. The +fearless infant boy chiefly dwells in conventional fiction, and +valour seldom comes before strength. Moreover, I have come +to the opinion that though no one thought of it at the time, his +nerves must have had a terrible and lasting shock at the accident +and at the sight of my crushed and deathly condition, which +occupied every one too much for them to think of soothing or +shielding him. At any rate, fear was the misery of his +life. Darkness was his horror. He would scream till +he brought in some one, though he knew it would be only to scold +or slap him. The housemaid’s closet on the stairs was +to him an abode of wolves. Mrs. Gatty’s tale of +<i>The Tiger in the Coal-box</i> is a transcript of his feelings, +except that no one took the trouble to reassure him; something +undefined and horrible was thought to wag in the case of the +eight-day clock; and he could not bear to open the play cupboard +lest ‘something’ should jump out on him. The +first time he was taken to the Zoological Gardens, the monkeys so +terrified him that a bystander insisted on Gooch’s carrying +him away lest he should go into fits, though Griffith was +shouting with ecstasy, and could hardly forgive the curtailment +of his enjoyment.</p> +<p>Clarence used to aver that he really did see +‘things’ in the dark, but as he only shuddered and +sobbed instead of describing them, he was punished for +‘telling fibs,’ though the housemaid used to speak +under her breath of his being a ‘Sunday child.’ +And after long penance, tied to his stool in the corner, he would +creep up to me and whisper, ‘But, Eddy, I really +did!’</p> +<p>However, it was only too well established in the nursery that +Clarence’s veracity was on a par with his courage. +When taxed with any misdemeanour, he used to look round scared +and bewildered, and utter a flat demur. One scene in +particular comes before me. There were strict laws against +going into shops or buying dainties without express permission +from mamma or nurse; but one day when Clarence had by some chance +been sent out alone with the good natured housemaid, his fingers +were found sticky.</p> +<p>‘Now, Master Clarence, you’ve been a naughty boy, +eating of sweets,’ exclaimed stern Justice in a mob cap and +frills.</p> +<p>‘No—no—’ faltered the victim; but, +alas! Mrs. Gooch had only to thrust her hand into the +little pocket of his monkey suit to convict him on the spot.</p> +<p>The maid was dismissed with a month’s wages, and poor +Clarence underwent a strange punishment from my mother, who was +getting about again by that time, namely, a drop of hot +sealing-wax on his tongue, to teach him practically the doom of +the false tongue. It might have done him good if there had +been sufficient encouragement to him to make him try to win a new +character, but it only added a fresh terror to his mind; and +nurse grew fond of manifesting her incredulity of his assertions +by always referring to Griff or to me, or even to little +Emily. What was worse, she used to point him out to her +congeners in the Square or the Park as ‘such a false +child.’</p> +<p>He was a very pretty little fellow, with a delicately rosy +face, wistful blue eyes, and soft, light, wavy hair, and perhaps +Gooch was jealous of his attracting more notice than Griffith, +and thought he posed for admiration, for she used to tell people +that no one could guess what a child he was for slyness; so that +he could not bear going out with her, and sometimes bemoaned +himself to me.</p> +<p>There must be a good deal of sneaking in the undeveloped +nature, for in those days I was ashamed of my preference for +Clarence, the naughty one. But there was no helping it, he +was so much more gentle than Griff, and would always give up any +sport that incommoded me, instead of calling me a stupid little +ape, and becoming more boisterous after the fashion of +Griff. Moreover, he fetched and carried for me unweariedly, +and would play at spillekins, help to put up puzzles, and enact +little dramas with our wooden animals, such as Griff scorned as +only fit for babies. Even nurse allowed Clarence’s +merits towards me and little Emily, but always with the sigh: +‘If he was but as good in other respects, but them quiet +ones is always sly.’</p> +<p>Good Nurse Gooch! We all owe much to her staunch +fidelity, strong discipline, and unselfish devotion, but nature +had not fitted her to deal with a timid, sensitive child, of +highly nervous temperament. Indeed, persons of far more +insight might have been perplexed by the fact that Clarence was +exemplary at church and prayers, family and +private,—whenever Griff would let him, that is to +say,—and would add private petitions of his own, sometimes +of a startling nature. He never scandalised the nursery, +like Griff, by unseemly pranks on Sundays, nor by innovations in +the habits of Noah’s ark, but was as much shocked as nurse +when the lion was made to devour the elephant, or the lion and +wolf fought in an embrace fatal to their legs. Bible +stories and Watt’s hymns were more to Clarence than even to +me, and he used to ask questions for which Gooch’s theology +was quite insufficient, and which brought the invariable answers, +‘Now, Master Clarry, I never did! Little boys should +not ask such questions!’ ‘What’s the use +of your pretending, sir! It’s all falseness, +that’s what it is! I hates +hypercrīting!’ ‘Don’t worrit, Master +Clarence; you are a very naughty boy to say such things. I +shall put you in the corner!’</p> +<p>Even nurse was scared one night when Clarence had a frightful +screaming fit, declaring that he saw +‘her—her—all white,’ and even while being +slapped reiterated, ‘<i>her</i>, Lucy!’</p> +<p>Lucy was a kind elder girl in the Square gardens, a protector +of little timid ones. She was known to be at that time very +ill with measles, and in fact died that very night. Both my +brothers sickened the next day, and Emily and I soon followed +their example, but no one had it badly except Clarence, who had +high fever, and very much delirium each night, talking to people +whom he thought he saw, so as to make nurse regret her severity +on the vision of Lucy.</p> +<h2><a name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +11</span>CHAPTER II.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">SCHOOLROOM DAYS.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘In the loom of life-cloth pleasure,<br /> + Ere our childish days be told,<br /> +With the warp and woof enwoven,<br /> + Glitters like a thread of gold.’—<span +class="smcap">Jean Ingelow</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Looking back, I think my mother was the leading spirit in our +household, though she never for a moment suspected it. +Indeed, the chess queen must be the most active on the home +board, and one of the objects of her life was to give her husband +a restful evening when he came home to the six o’clock +dinner. She also had to make both ends meet on an income +which would seem starvation at the present day; but she was +strong, spirited, and managing, and equal to all her tasks till +the long attendance upon me, and the consequent illness, forced +her to spare herself—a little—a very little.</p> +<p>Previously she had been our only teacher, except that my +father read a chapter of the Bible with us every morning before +breakfast, and heard the Catechism on a Sunday. For we +could all read long before young gentlefolks nowadays can say +their letters. It was well for me, since books with a small +quantity of type, and a good deal of frightful illustration, +beguiled many of my weary moments. You may see my special +favourites, bound up, on the shelf in my bedroom. +Crabbe’s <i>Tales</i>, <i>Frank</i>, <i>the Parent’s +Assistant</i>, and later, Croker’s <i>Tales from English +History</i>, Lamb’s <i>Tales from Shakespeare</i>, <i>Tales +of a Grandfather</i>, and the <i>Rival Crusoes</i> stand +pre-eminent—also <i>Mrs. Leicester’s School</i>, with +the ghost story cut out.</p> +<p>Fairies and ghosts were prohibited as unwholesome, and not +unwisely. The one would have been enervating to me, and the +other would have been a definite addition to Clarence’s +stock of horrors. Indeed, one story had been cut out of +Crabbe’s <i>Tales</i>, and another out of an Annual +presented to Emily, but not before Griff had read the latter, and +the version he related to us probably lost nothing in the +telling; indeed, to this day I recollect the man, wont to slay +the harmless cricket on the hearth, and in a storm at sea pursued +by a gigantic cockroach and thrown overboard. The night +after hearing this choice legend Clarence was found crouching +beside me in bed for fear of the cockroach. I am afraid the +vengeance was more than proportioned to the offence!</p> +<p>Even during my illness that brave mother struggled to teach my +brothers’ daily lessons, and my father heard them a short +bit of Latin grammar at his breakfast (five was thought in those +days to be the fit age to begin it, and fathers the fit teachers +thereof). And he continued to give this morning lesson +when, on our return from airing at Ramsgate after our recovery +from the measles, my mother found she must submit to transfer us +to a daily governess.</p> +<p>Old Miss Newton’s attainments could not have been great, +for her answers to my inquiries were decidedly funny, and +prefaced <i>sotto voce</i> with, ‘What a child it +is!’ But she was a good kindly lady, who had the +faculty of teaching, and of forestalling rebellion; and her +little thin corkscrew curls, touched with gray, her pale eyes, +prim black silk apron, and sandalled shoes, rise before me full +of happy associations of tender kindness and patience. She +was wise, too, in her own simple way. When nurse would have +forewarned her of Clarence’s failings in his own hearing, +she cut the words short by declaring that she should like never +to find out which was the naughty one. And when habit was +too strong, and he had denied the ink spot on the atlas, she +persuasively wiled out a confession not only to her but to mamma, +who hailed the avowal as the beginning of better things, and +kissed instead of punishing.</p> +<p>Clarence’s queries had been snubbed into reserve, and I +doubt whether Miss Newton’s theoretic theology was very +much more developed than that of Mrs. Gooch, but her practice and +devotion were admirable, and she fostered religious sentiment +among us, introducing little books which were welcome in the +restricted range of Sunday reading. Indeed, Mrs. +Sherwood’s have some literary merit, and her <i>Fairchild +Family</i> indulged in such delicious and eccentric acts of +naughtiness as quite atoned for all the religious teaching, and +fascinated Griff, though he was apt to be very impatient of +certain little affectionate lectures to which Clarence listened +meekly. My father and mother were both of the old-fashioned +orthodox school, with minds formed on Jeremy Taylor, Blair, +South, and Secker, who thought it their duty to go diligently to +church twice on Sunday, communicate four times a year (their only +opportunities), after grave and serious preparation, read a +sermon to their household on Sunday evenings, and watch over +their children’s religious instruction, though in a +reserved undemonstrative manner. My father always read one +daily chapter with us every morning, one Psalm at family prayers, +and my mother made us repeat a few verses of Scripture before our +other studies began; besides which there was special teaching on +Sunday, and an abstinence from amusements, such as would now be +called Sabbatarian, but a walk in the Park with papa was so much +esteemed that it made the day a happy and honoured one to those +who could walk.</p> +<p>There was little going into society, comparatively, for people +in our station,—solemn dinner-parties from time to +time—two a year, did we give, and then the house was turned +upside down,—and now and then my father dined out, or +brought a friend home to dinner; and there were so-called morning +calls in the afternoon, but no tea-drinking. For the most +part the heads of the family dined alone at six, and afterwards +my father read aloud some book of biography or travels, while we +children were expected to employ ourselves quietly, threading +beads, drawing, or putting up puzzles, and listen or not as we +chose, only not interrupt, as we sat at the big, central, round, +mahogany table. To this hour I remember portions of +Belzoni’s Researches and Franklin’s terrible American +adventures, and they bring back tones of my father’s +voice. As an authority ‘papa’ was seldom +invoked, except on very serious occasions, such as +Griffith’s audacity, Clarence’s falsehood, or my +obstinacy; and then the affair was formidable, he was judicial +and awful, and, though he would graciously forgive on signs of +repentance, he never was sympathetic. He had not married +young, and there were forty years or more between him and his +sons, so that he had left too far behind him the feelings of +boyhood to make himself one with us, even if he had thought it +right or dignified to do so,—yet I cannot describe the +depth of the respect and loyalty he inspired in us nor the +delight we felt in a word of commendation or a special attention +from him.</p> +<p>The early part of Miss Newton’s rule was unusually +fertile in such pleasures, and much might have been spared, could +Clarence have been longer under her influence; but Griff grew +beyond her management, and was taunted by ‘fellows in the +Square’ into assertions of manliness, such as kicking his +heels, stealing her odd little fringed parasol, pitching his +books into the area, keeping her in misery with his antics during +their walks, and finally leading Clarence off after Punch into +the Rookery of St. Giles’s, where she could not follow, +because Emily was in her charge.</p> +<p>This was the crisis. She had to come home without the +boys, and though they arrived long before any of the authorities +knew of their absence, she owned with tears that she could not +conscientiously be responsible any longer for Griffith,—who +not only openly defied her authority, but had found out how +little she knew, and laughed at her. I have reason to +believe also that my mother had discovered that she frequented +the preachings of Rowland Hill and Baptist Noel; and had +confiscated some unorthodox tracts presented to the servants, +thus being alarmed lest she should implant the seeds of +dissent.</p> +<p>Parting with her after four years under her was a real +grief. Even Griff was fond of her; when once emancipated, +he used to hug her and bring her remarkable presents, and she +heartily loved her tormentor. Everybody did. It +remained a great pleasure to get her to spend an evening with us +while the elders were gone out to dinner; nor do I think she ever +did us anything but good, though I am afraid we laughed at +‘Old Newton’ as we grew older and more +conceited. We never had another governess. My mother +read and enforced diligence on Emily and me, and we had masters +for different studies; the two boys went to school; and when +Martyn began to emerge from babyhood, Emily was his teacher.</p> +<h2><a name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +17</span>CHAPTER III.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">WIN AND SLOW.</span></h2> +<p class="poetry">‘The rude will shuffle through with ease +enough:<br /> +Great schools best suit the sturdy and the rough.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">Cowper</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">At</span> school Griffith was very happy, +and brilliantly successful, alike in study and sport, though +sports were not made prominent in those days, and triumphs in +them were regarded by the elders with doubtful pride, lest they +should denote a lack of attention to matters of greater +importance. All his achievements were, however, poured +forth by himself and Clarence to Emily and me, and we felt as +proud of them as if they had been our own.</p> +<p>Clarence was industrious, and did not fail in his school work, +but when he came home for the holidays there was a cowed look +about him, and private revelations were made over my sofa that +made my flesh creep. The scars were still visible, caused +by having been compelled to grasp the bars of the grate +bare-handed; and, what was worse, he had been suspended outside a +third story window by the wrists, held by a schoolfellow of +thirteen!</p> +<p>‘But what was Griff about?’ I demanded, with hot +tears of indignation.</p> +<p>‘Oh, Win!—that’s what they call him, and me +Slow—he said it would do me good. But I don’t +think it did, Eddy. It only makes my heart beat fit to +choke me whenever I go near the passage window.’</p> +<p>I could only utter a vain wish that I had been there and able +to fight for him, and I attacked Griff on the subject on the +first opportunity.</p> +<p>‘Oh!’ was his answer, ‘it is only what all +fellows have to bear if there’s no pluck in them. +They tried it on upon me, you know, but I soon showed them it +would not do’—with the cock of the nose, the flash of +the eyes, the clench of the fist, that were peculiarly +Griff’s own; and when I pleaded that he might have +protected Clarence, he laughed scornfully. ‘As to +Slow, wretched being, a fellow can’t help bullying +him. It comes as natural as to a cat with a +mouse.’ On further and reiterated pleadings, Griff +declared, first, that it was the only thing to do Slow any good, +or make a man of him; and next, that he heartily wished that +Winslow junior had been Miss Clara at once, as the fellows called +him—it was really hard on him (Griff) to have such a +sneaking little coward tied to him for a junior!</p> +<p>I particularly resented the term Slow, for Clarence had lately +been the foremost of us in his studies; but the idea that +learning had anything to do with the matter was derided, and as +time went on, there was vexation and displeasure at his progress +not being commensurate with his abilities. It would have +been treason to schoolboy honour to let the elders know that +though a strong, high-spirited popular boy like ‘Win’ +might venture to excel big bullying dunces, such fair game as +poor ‘Slow’ could be terrified into not only keeping +below them, but into doing their work for them. To him +Cowper’s ‘Tirocinium’ had only too much sad +truth.</p> +<p>As to his old failing, there were no special complaints, but +in those pre-Arnoldian times no lofty code of honour was even +ideal among schoolboys, or expected of them by masters; shuffling +was thought natural, and allowances made for faults in indolent +despair.</p> +<p>My mother thought the Navy the proper element of boyhood, and +her uncle the Admiral promised a nomination,—a simple +affair in those happy days, involving neither examination nor +competition. Griffith was, however, one of those +independent boys who take an aversion to whatever is forced on +them as their fate. He was ready and successful with his +studies, a hero among his comrades, and preferred continuing at +school to what he pronounced, on the authority of the nautical +tales freely thrown in our way, to be the life of a dog, only fit +for the fool of the family; besides, he had once been out in a +boat, tasted of sea-sickness, and been laughed at. My +father was gratified, thinking his brains too good for a +midshipman, and pleased that he should wish to tread in his own +steps at Harrow and Oxford, and thus my mother could not openly +regret his degeneracy when all the rest of us were crazy over +<i>Tom Cringle’s Log</i>, and ready to envy Clarence when +the offer was passed on to him, and he appeared in the full glory +of his naval uniform. Not much choice had been offered to +him. My mother would have thought it shameful and +ungrateful to have no son available, my father was glad to have +the boy’s profession fixed, and he himself was rejoiced to +escape from the miseries he knew only too well, and ready to +believe that uniform and dirk would make a man of him at once, +with all his terrors left behind. Perhaps the chief +drawback was that the ladies <i>would</i> say, ‘What a +darling!’ affording Griff endless opportunities for the +good-humoured mockery by which he concealed his own secret +regrets. Did not even Selina Clarkson, whose red cheeks, +dark blue eyes, and jetty profusion of shining curls, were our +notion of perfect beauty, select the little naval cadet for her +partner at the dancing master’s ball?</p> +<p>In the first voyage, a cruise in the Pacific, all went +well. The good Admiral had carefully chosen ship and +captain; there were an excellent set of officers, a good tone +among the midshipmen, and Clarence, who was only twelve years +old, was constituted the pet of the cockpit. One lad in +especial, Coles by name, attracted by Clarence’s pleasant +gentleness, and impelled by the generosity that shields the weak, +became his guardian friend, and protected him from all the +roughnesses in his power. If there were a fault in that +excellent Coles, it was that he made too much of a baby of his +<i>protégé</i>, and did not train him to shift for +himself: but wisdom and moderation are not characteristics of +early youth. At home we had great enjoyment of his long +descriptive letters, which came under cover to our father at the +Admiralty, but were chiefly intended for my benefit. All +were proud of them, and great was my elation when I heard papa +relate some fact out of them with the preface, ‘My boy +tells me, my boy Clarence, in the <i>Calypso</i>; he writes a +capital letter.’</p> +<p>How great was our ecstasy when after three years and a half we +had him at home again; handsome, vigorous, well-grown, +excellently reported of, fully justifying my mother’s +assurances that the sea would make a man of him. There was +Griffith in the fifth form and a splendid cricketer, but Clarence +could stand up to him now, and Harrovian exploits were tame +beside stories of sharks and negroes, monkeys and +alligators. There was one in particular, about a whole +boat’s crew sitting down on what they thought was a fallen +tree, but which suddenly swept them all over on their faces, and +turned out to be a boa-constrictor, and would have embraced one +of them if he had not had the sail of the boat coiled round the +mast, and palmed off upon him, when he gorged it contentedly, and +being found dead on the next landing, his skin was used to cover +the captain’s sea-chest. Clarence declined to repeat +this tale and many others before the elders, and was displeased +with Emily for referring to it in public. As to his +terrors, he took it for granted that an officer of H.M.S. +<i>Calypso</i>, had left them behind, and in fact, he naturally +forgot and passed over what he had not been shielded from, while +his hereditary love of the sea really made those incidental to +his profession much more endurable than the bullying he had +undergone at school.</p> +<p>We were very happy that Christmas, and very proud of our +boys. One evening we were treated to a box at the +pantomime, and even I was able to go to it. We put our +young sailor and our sister in the forefront, and believed that +every one was as much struck with them as with the wonderful +transformations of Goody-Two-Shoes under the wand of +Harlequin. Brother-like, we might tease our one girl, and +call her an affected little pussy cat, but our private opinion +was that she excelled all other damsels with her bright blue eyes +and pretty curling hair, which had the same chestnut shine as +Griff’s—enough to make us correct possible vanity by +terming it red, though we were ready to fight any one else who +presumed to do so. Indeed Griff had defended its hue in +single combat, and his eye was treated for it with beefsteak by +Peter in the pantry. We were immensely, though silently, +proud of her in her white embroidered cambric frock, red sash and +shoes, and coral necklace, almost an heirloom, for it had been +brought from Sicily in Nelson’s days by my mother’s +poor young father. How parents and doctors in these days +would have shuddered at her neck and arms, bare, not only in the +evening, but by day! When she was a little younger she +could so shrink up from her clothes that Griff, or little Martyn, +in a mischievous mood, would put things down her back, to +reappear below her petticoats. Once it was a dead wasp, +which descended harmlessly the length of her spine! She was +a good-humoured, affectionate, dear sister, my valued companion, +submitting patiently to be eclipsed when Clarence was present, +and everything to me in his absence. Sturdy little Martyn +too, was held by us to be the most promising of small boys. +He was a likeness of Clarence, only stouter, hardier, and without +the delicate, girlish, wistful look; imitating Griff in +everything, and rather a heavy handful to Emily and me when left +to our care, though we were all the more proud of his high +spirit, and were fast becoming a mutual admiration society.</p> +<p>What then were our feelings when Griff, always fearless, +dashed to the rescue of a boy under whom the ice had broken in +St. James’ Park, and held him up till assistance +came? Martyn, who was with him, was sent home to fetch dry +clothes and reassure my mother, which he did by dashing upstairs, +shouting, ‘Where’s mamma? Here’s Griff +been into the water and pulled out a boy, and they don’t +know if he is drowned; but he looks—oh!’</p> +<p>Even after my mother had elicited that Martyn’s +<i>he</i> meant the boy, and not Griff, she could not rest +without herself going to see that our eldest was unhurt, greet +him, and bring him home. What happy tears stood in her +eyes, how my father shook hands with him, how we drank his health +after dinner, and how ungrateful I was to think Clarence deserved +his name of Slow for having stayed at home to play chess with me +because my back was aching, when he might have been winning the +like honours! How red and gruff and shy the hero looked, +and how he entreated no one to say any more about it!</p> +<p>He would not even look publicly at the paragraph about it in +the paper, only vituperating it for having made him into ‘a +juvenile Etonian,’ and hoping no one from Harrow would +guess whom it meant.</p> +<p>I found that paragraph the other day in my mother’s +desk, folded over the case of the medal of the Royal Humane +Society, which Griff affected to despise, but which, when he was +well out of the way, used to be exhibited on high days and +holidays. It seems now like the boundary mark of the golden +days of our boyhood, and unmitigated hopes for one another.</p> +<h2><a name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +25</span>CHAPTER IV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">UBI LAPSUS, QUID FECI.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Clarence is come—false, fleeting, +perjured Clarence.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>King Richard III</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> was much stagnation in the +Navy in those days in the reaction after the great war; and +though our family had fair interest at the Admiralty, it was +seven months before my brother went to sea again. To me +they were very happy months, with my helper of helpers, companion +of companions, who made possible to me many a little enterprise +that could not be attempted without him. My father made him +share my studies, and thus they became doubly pleasant. And +oh, ye boys! who murmur at the Waverley Novels as a dry holiday +task, ye may envy us the zest and enthusiasm with which we +devoured them in their freshness. Strangely enough, the +last that we read together was the <i>Fair Maid of Perth</i>.</p> +<p>Clarence and his friend Coles longed to sail together again, +but Coles was shelved; and when Clarence’s appointment came +at last, it was to the brig <i>Clotho</i>, Commander Brydone, +going out in the Mediterranean Fleet, under Sir Edward +Codrington. My mother did not like brigs, and my father did +not like what he heard of the captain; but there had been jealous +murmurs about appointments being absorbed by sons of +officials—he durst not pick and choose; and the Admiral +pronounced that if the lad had been spoilt on board the +<i>Calypso</i>, it was time for him to rough it—a dictum +whence there was no appeal.</p> +<p>Half a year later the tidings of the victory of Navarino rang +through Europe, and were only half welcome to the conquerors; but +in our household it is connected with a terrible +recollection. Though more than half a century has rolled +by, I shrink from dwelling on the shock that fell on us when my +father returned from Somerset House with such a countenance that +we thought our sailor had fallen; but my mother could brook the +fact far less than if her son had died a gallant death. The +<i>Clotho</i> was on her way home, and Midshipman William +Clarence Winslow was to be tried by court-martial for +insubordination, disobedience, and drunkenness. My mother +was like one turned to stone. She would hardly go out of +doors; she could scarcely bring herself to go to church; she +would have had my father give up his situation if there had been +any other means of livelihood. She could not talk; only +when my father sighed, ‘We should never have put him into +the Navy,’ she hotly replied,</p> +<p>‘How was I to suppose that a son of mine would be like +that?’</p> +<p>Emily cried all day and all night. Some others would +have felt it a relief to have cried too. In more furious +language than parents in those days tolerated, Griff wrote to me +his utter disbelief, and how he had punched the heads of fellows +who presumed to doubt that it was not all a rascally, villainous +plot.</p> +<p>When the time came my father went down by the night mail to +Portsmouth. He could scarcely bear to face the matter; but, +as he said, he could not have it on his conscience if the boy did +anything desperate for want of some one to look after him. +Besides, there might be some explanation.</p> +<p>‘Explanation,’ said my mother bitterly. +‘That there always is!’</p> +<p>The ‘explanation’ was this—I have put +together what came out in evidence, what my father and the +Admiral heard from commiserating officers, and what at different +times I learned from Clarence himself. Captain Brydone was +one of the rough old description of naval men, good sailors and +stern disciplinarians, but wanting in any sense of moral duties +towards their ship’s company. His lieutenant was of +the same class, soured, moreover, by tardy promotion, and +prejudiced against a gentleman-like, fair-faced lad, understood +to have interest, and bearing a name that implied it. Of +the other two midshipmen, one was a dull lad of low stamp, the +other a youth of twenty, a born bully, with evil as well as +tyrannical propensities;—the crew conforming to severe +discipline on board, but otherwise wild and lawless. In +such a ship a youth with good habits, sensitive conscience, and +lack of moral or physical courage, could not but lead a life of +misery, losing every day more of his self-respect and spirit as +he was driven to the evil he loathed, dreading the consequences, +temporal and eternal, with all his soul, yet without resolution +or courage to resist.</p> +<p>As every one knows, the battle of Navarino came on suddenly, +almost by mistake; and though it is perhaps no excuse, the +hurly-burly and horror burst upon him at unawares. Though +the English loss was comparatively very small, the <i>Clotho</i> +was a good deal exposed, and two men were killed—one so +close to Clarence that his clothes were splashed with +blood. This entirely unnerved him; he did not even know +what he did, but he was not to be found when required to carry an +order, and was discovered hidden away below, shuddering, in his +berth, and then made some shallow excuse about misunderstanding +orders. Whether this would have been brought up against him +under other circumstances, or whether it would have been +remembered that great men, including Charles V. and Henri IV., +have had their <i>moment de peur</i>, I cannot tell; but there +were other charges. I cannot give date or details. +There is no record among the papers before me; and I can only +vaguely recall what could hardly be read for the sense of agony, +was never discussed, and was driven into the most oblivious +recesses of the soul fifty years ago. There was a story +about having let a boat’s crew, of which he was in charge, +get drunk and over-stay their time. One of them deserted; +and apparently prevarication ran to the bounds of perjury, if it +did not overpass them. (N.B.—Seeing seamen flogged +was one of the sickening horrors that haunted Clarence in the +<i>Clotho</i>.) Also, when on shore at Malta with the young +man whose name I will not record—his evil genius—he +was beguiled or bullied into a wine-shop, and while not himself +was made the cat’s-paw of some insolent practical joke on +the lieutenant; and when called to account, was so bewildered and +excited as to use unpardonable language.</p> +<p>Whatever it might have been in detail, so much was proved +against him that he was dismissed his ship, and his father was +recommended to withdraw him from the service, as being +disqualified by want of nerve. Also, it was added more +privately, that such vicious tendencies needed home +restraint. The big bully, his corrupter, bore witness +against him, but did not escape scot free, for one of the +captains spoke to him in scathing tones of censure.</p> +<p>Whenever my mother was in trouble, she always re-arranged the +furniture, and a family crisis was always heralded by a +revolution of chairs, tables, and sofas. She could not sit +still under suspense, and, during these terrible days the entire +house underwent a setting to rights. Emily attended upon +her, and I sat and dusted books. No doubt it was much +better for us than sitting still. My father’s letter +came by the morning mail, telling us of the sentence, and that he +and our poor culprit, as he said, would come home by the +Portsmouth coach in the evening.</p> +<p>One room was already in order when Sir John Griffith kindly +came to see whether he could bring any comfort to a spirit which +would infinitely have preferred death to dishonour, and was, +above all, shocked at the lack of physical courage. Never +had I liked our old Admiral so well as when I heard how his chief +anger was directed against the general mismanagement, and the +cruelty of blighting a poor lad’s life when not yet +seventeen. His father might have been warned to remove him +without the public scandal of a court-martial and dismissal.</p> +<p>‘The guilt and shame would have been all the same to +us,’ said my mother.</p> +<p>‘Come, Mary, don’t be hard on the poor +fellow. In quiet times like these a poor boy can’t +look over the wall where one might have stolen a horse, ay, or a +dozen horses, when there was something else to think +about!’</p> +<p>‘You would not have forgiven such a thing, +sir.’</p> +<p>‘It never would have happened under me, or in any +decently commanded ship!’ he thundered. ‘There +wasn’t a fault to be found with him in the +<i>Calypso</i>. What possessed Winslow to let him sail with +Brydone? But the service is going,’ etc. etc., he ran +on—forgetting that it was he himself who had been +unwilling, perhaps rightly, to press the Duke of Clarence for an +appointment to a crack frigate for his namesake. However, +when he took leave he repeated, as he kissed my mother, +‘Mind, Mary, don’t be set against the lad. +That’s the way to make ’em desperate, and he is a +mere boy, after all.’</p> +<p>Poor mother, it was not so much hardness as a wounded spirit +that made her look so rigid. It might have been better if +the return could have been delayed so as to make her yearn after +her son, but there was nowhere for him to go, and the coach was +already on its way. How strange it was to feel the wonted +glow at Clarence’s return coupled with a frightful sense of +disgrace and depression.</p> +<p>The time was far on in October, and it was thus quite dark +when the travellers arrived, having walked from Charing Cross, +where the coach set them down. My father came in first, and +my mother clung to him as if he had been absent for weeks, while +all the joy of contact with my brother swept over me, even though +his hand hung limp in mine, and was icy cold like his +cheeks. My father turned to him with one of the little set +speeches of those days. ‘Here is our son, Mary, who +has promised me to do his utmost to retrieve his character, as +far as may be possible, and happily he is still young.’</p> +<p>My mother’s embrace was in a sort of mechanical +obedience to her husband’s gesture, and her voice was not +perhaps meant to be so severe as it sounded when she said, +‘You are very cold—come and warm yourself.’</p> +<p>They made room for him by the fire, and my father stood up in +front of it, giving particulars of the journey. Emily and +Martyn were at tea in the nursery, in a certain awe that hindered +them from coming down; indeed, Martyn seems to have expected to +see some strange transformation in his brother. Indeed, +there was alteration in the absence of the blue and gold, and, +still more, in the loss of the lightsome, hopeful expression from +the young face.</p> +<p>There is a picture of Ary Scheffer’s of an old knight, +whose son had fled from the battle, cutting the tablecloth in two +between himself and the unhappy youth. Like that stern +baron’s countenance was that with which my mother sat at +the head of the dinner-table, and we conversed by jerks about +whatever we least cared for, as if we could hide our wretchedness +from Peter. When the children appeared each gave Clarence +the shyest of kisses, and they sat demurely on their chairs on +either side of my father to eat their almonds and raisins, after +which we went upstairs, and there was the usual reading. It +is curious, but though none of us could have told at the time +what it was about, on turning over not long ago a copy of +Head’s <i>Pampas and Andes</i>, one chapter struck me with +an intolerable sense of melancholy, such as the bull chases of +South America did not seem adequate to produce, and by and by I +remembered that it was the book in course of being read at that +unhappy period. My mother went on as diligently as ever +with some of those perpetual shirts which seemed to be always in +hand except before company, when she used to do tambour work for +Emily’s frocks. Clarence sat the whole time in a dark +corner, never stirring, except that he now and then nodded a +little. He had gone through many wakeful, and worse than +wakeful, nights of wretched suspense, and now the worst was +over.</p> +<p>Family prayers took place, chill good-nights were exchanged, +and nobody interfered with his helping me up to my bedroom as +usual; but there was something in his face to which I durst not +speak, though perhaps I looked, for he exclaimed, +‘Don’t, Ned!’ wrung my hand, and sped away to +his own quarters higher up. Then came a sound which made me +open my door to listen. Dear little Emily! She had +burst out of her own room in her dressing-gown, and flung herself +upon her brother as he was plodding wearily upstairs in the dark, +clinging round his neck sobbing, ‘Dear, dear Clarry! +I can’t bear it! I don’t care. +You’re my own dear brother, and they are all wicked, horrid +people.’</p> +<p>That was all I heard, except hushings on Clarence’s +part, as if the opening of my door and the thread of light from +it warned him that there was risk of interruption. He +seemed to be dragging her up to her own room, and I was left with +a pang at her being foremost in comforting him.</p> +<p>My father enacted that he should be treated as usual. +But how could that be when papa himself did not know how changed +were his own ways from his kindly paternal air of +confidence? All trust had been undermined, so that Clarence +could not cross the threshold without being required to state his +object, and, if he overstayed the time calculated, he was +cross-examined, and his replies received with a sigh of +doubt.</p> +<p>He hung about the house, not caring to do much, except taking +me out in my Bath chair or languidly reading the most exciting +books he could get;—but there was no great stock of +sensation then, except the Byronic, and from time to time one of +my parents would exclaim, ‘Clarence, I wonder you can find +nothing more profitable to occupy yourself with than trash like +that!’</p> +<p>He would lay down the book without a word, and take up +Smith’s <i>Wealth of Nations</i> or Smollett’s +<i>England</i>—the profitable studies recommended, and +speedily become lost in a dejected reverie, with fixed eyes and +drooping lips.</p> +<h2><a name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +34</span>CHAPTER V.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A HELPING HAND.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Though hawks can prey through storms and +winds,<br /> +The poor bee in her hive must dwell.’—<span +class="smcap">Henry Vaughan</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> imagination the piteous +dejection of our family seems to have lasted for ages, but on +comparison of dates it is plain that the first lightening of the +burthen came in about a fortnight’s time.</p> +<p>The firm of Frith and Castleford was coming to the front in +the Chinese trade. The junior partner was an old companion +of my father’s boyhood; his London abode was near at hand, +and he was a kind of semi-godfather to both Clarence and me, +having stood proxy for our nominal sponsors. He was as good +and open-hearted a man as ever lived, and had always been very +kind to us; but he was scarcely welcome when my father, finding +that he had come up alone to London to see about some repairs to +his house, while his family were still in the country, asked him +to dine and sleep—our first guest since our misfortune.</p> +<p>My mother could hardly endure to receive any one, but she +seemed glad to see my father become animated and like himself +while Roman Catholic Emancipation was vehemently discussed, and +the ruin of England hotly predicted. Clarence moped about +silently as usual, and tried to avoid notice, and it was not till +the next morning—after breakfast, when the two gentlemen +were in the dining-room, nearly ready to go their several ways, +and I was in the window awaiting my classical tutor—that +Mr. Castleford said,</p> +<p>‘May I ask, Winslow, if you have any plans for that poor +boy?’</p> +<p>‘Edward?’ said my father, almost wilfully +misunderstanding. ‘His ambition is to be curator of +something in the British Museum, isn’t it?’</p> +<p>Mr. Castleford explained that he meant the other, and my +father sadly answered that he hardly knew; he supposed the only +thing was to send him to a private tutor, but where to find a fit +one he did not know and besides, what could be his aim? Sir +John Griffith had said he was only fit for the Church, ‘But +one does not wish to dispose of a tarnished article +there.’</p> +<p>‘Certainly not,’ said Mr. Castleford; and then he +spoke words that rejoiced my heart, though they only made my +father groan, bidding him remember that it was not so much actual +guilt as the accident of Clarence’s being in the Navy that +had given so serious a character to his delinquencies. If +he had been at school, perhaps no one would ever have heard of +them, ‘Though I don’t say,’ added the good man, +casting a new light on the subject, ‘that it would have +been better for him in the end.’ Then, quite humbly, +for he knew my mother especially had a disdain for trade, he +asked what my father would think of letting him give Clarence +work in the office for the present. ‘I know,’ +he said, ‘it is not the line your family might prefer, but +it is present occupation; and I do not think you could well send +a youth who has seen so much of the world back to +schooling. Besides, this would keep him under your own +eye.’</p> +<p>My father was greatly touched by the kindness, but he thought +it right to set before Mr. Castleford the very worst side of poor +Clarence; declaring that he durst not answer for a boy who had +never, in spite of pains and punishments, learnt to speak truth +at home or abroad, repeating Captain Brydone’s dreadful +report, and even adding that, what was most grievous of all, +there was an affectation of piety about him that could scarcely +be anything but self-deceit and hypocrisy. +‘Now,’ he said, ‘my eldest son, Griffith, is +just a boy, makes no profession, is not—as I am afraid you +have seen—exemplary at church, when Clarence sits as meek +as a mouse, but then he is always above-board, frank and +straightforward. You know where to have a high-spirited +fellow, who will tame down, but you never know what will come +next with the other. I sometimes wonder for what error of +mine Providence has seen fit to give me such a son.’</p> +<p>Just then an important message came for Mr. Winslow, and he +had to hurry away, but Mr. Castleford still remained, and +presently said,</p> +<p>‘Edward, I should like to know what your eyes have been +trying to say all this time.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, sir,’ I burst out, ‘do give him a +chance. Indeed he never means to do wrong. The harm +is not in him. He would have been the best of us all if he +had only been let alone.’</p> +<p>Those were exactly my own foolish words, for which I could +have beaten myself afterwards; but Mr. Castleford only gave a +slight grave smile, and said, ‘You mean that your +brother’s real defect is in courage, moral and +physical.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ I said, with a great effort at expressing +myself. ‘When he is frightened, or bullied, or +browbeaten, he does not know what he is doing or saying. He +is quite different when he is his own self; only nobody can +understand.’</p> +<p>Strange that though the favoured home son and nearly sixteen +years old, it would have been impossible to utter so much to one +of our parents. Indeed the last sentence felt so disloyal +that the colour burnt in my cheeks as the door opened; but it +only admitted Clarence, who, having heard the front door shut, +thought the coast was clear, and came in with a load of my books +and dictionaries.</p> +<p>‘Clarence,’ said Mr. Castleford, and the direct +address made him start and flush, ‘supposing your father +consents, should you be willing to turn your mind to a desk in my +counting-house?’</p> +<p>He flushed deeper red, and his fingers quivered as he held by +the table. ‘Thank you, sir. +Anything—anything,’ he said hesitatingly.</p> +<p>‘Well,’ said Mr. Castleford, with the kindest of +voices, ‘let us have it out. What is in your +mind? You know, I’m a sort of godfather to +you.’</p> +<p>‘Sir, if you would only let me have a berth on board one +of your vessels, and go right away.’</p> +<p>‘Aye, my poor boy, that’s what you would like +best, I’ve no doubt; but look at Edward’s face there, +and think what that would come to at the best!’</p> +<p>‘Yes, I know I have no right to choose,’ said +Clarence, drooping his head as before.</p> +<p>‘’Tis not that, my dear lad,’ said the good +man, ‘but that packing you off like that, among your +inferiors in breeding and everything else, would put an end to +all hope of your redeeming the past—outwardly I mean, of +course—and lodge you in a position of inequality to your +brothers and sister, and all—’</p> +<p>‘That’s done already,’ said Clarence.</p> +<p>‘If you were a man grown it might be so,’ returned +Mr. Castleford, ‘but bless me, how old are you?’</p> +<p>‘Seventeen next 1st of November,’ said +Clarence.</p> +<p>‘Not a bit too old for a fresh beginning,’ said +Mr. Castleford cheerily. ‘God helping you, you will +be a brave and good man yet, my boy—’ then as my +master rang at the door—‘Come with me and look at the +old shop.’</p> +<p>Poor Clarence muttered something unintelligible, and I had to +own for him that he never went out without accounting for +himself. Whereupon our friend caused my mother to be hunted +up, and explained to her that he wanted to take Clarence out with +him—making some excuse about something they were to see +together.</p> +<p>That walk enabled him to say something which came nearer to +cheering Clarence than anything that had passed since that sad +return, and made him think that to be connected with Mr. +Castleford was the best thing that could befall him. Mr. +Castleford on his side told my father that he was sure that the +boy was good-hearted all the time, and thoroughly repentant; but +this had the less effect because plausibility, as my father +called it, was one of the qualities that specially annoyed him in +Clarence, and made him fear that his friend might be taken +in. However, the matter was discussed between the elders, +and it was determined that this most friendly offer should be +accepted experimentally. It was impressed on Clarence, with +unnecessary care, that the line of life was inferior; but that it +was his only chance of regaining anything like a position, and +that everything depended on his industry and integrity.</p> +<p>‘Integrity!’ commented Clarence, with a burning +spot on his cheek after one of these lectures; ‘I believe +they think me capable of robbing the office!’</p> +<p>We found out, too, that the senior partner, Mr. Frith, a very +crusty old bachelor, did not like the appointment, and that it +was made quite against his will. ‘You’ll be +getting your clerks next from Newgate!’ was what some +amiable friend reported him to have said. However, Mr. +Castleford had his way, and Clarence was to begin his work with +the New Year, being in the meantime cautioned and lectured on the +crime and danger of his evil propensities more than he could well +bear. ‘Oh!’ he groaned, ‘it serves me +right, I know that very well, but if my father only knew how I +hate and abhor all those things—and how I loathed them at +the very time I was dragged into them!’</p> +<p>‘Why don’t you tell him so?’ I asked.</p> +<p>‘That would make it no better.’</p> +<p>‘It is not so bad as if you had gone into it willingly, +and for your own pleasure.’</p> +<p>‘He would only think that another lie.’</p> +<p>No more could be said, for the idea of Clarence’s +untruthfulness and depravity had become so deeply rooted in our +father’s mind that there was little hope of displacing it, +and even at the best his manner was full of grave constrained +pity. Those few words were Clarence’s first approach +to confidence with me, but they led to more, and he knew there +was one person who did not believe the defect was in the bent of +his will so much as in its strength.</p> +<p>All the time the prospect of the counting-house in comparison +with the sea was so distasteful to him that I was anxious +whenever he went out alone, or even with Griffith, who despised +the notion of, as he said, sitting on a high stool, dealing in +tea, so much that he was quite capable of aiding and abetting in +an escape from it. Two considerations, however, held +Clarence back; one, the timidity of nature which shrank from so +violent a step, and the other, the strong affections that bound +him to his home, though his sojourn there was so painful. +He knew the misery his flight would have been to me; indeed I +took care to let him see it.</p> +<p>And Griffith’s return was like a fresh spring wind +dispersing vapours. He had gained an excellent scholarship +at Brazenose, and came home radiant with triumph, cheering us all +up, and making a generous use of his success. He was no +letter-writer, and after learning that the disaster and disgrace +were all too certain, he ignored the whole, and hailed Clarence +on his return as if nothing had happened. As eldest son, +and almost a University man, he could argue with our parents in a +manner we never presumed on. At least I cannot aver what he +actually uttered, but probably it was a revised version of what +he thundered forth to me. ‘Such nonsense! such a +shame to keep the poor beggar going about with that hang dog +look, as if he had done for himself for life! Why, +I’ve known fellows do ever so much worse of their own +accord, and nothing come of it. If it was found out, there +might be a row and a flogging, and there was an end of it. +As to going about mourning, and keeping the whole house in +doleful dumps, as if there was never to be any good again, it was +utter folly, and so I’ve told Bill, and papa and mamma, +both of them!’</p> +<p>How this was administered, or how they took it, there is no +knowing, but Griff would neither skate nor go to the theatre, nor +to any other diversion, without his brother; and used much kindly +force and banter to unearth him from his dismal den in the back +drawing-room. He was only let alone when there were +engagements with friends, and indeed, when meetings in the +streets took place, by tacit agreement, Clarence would shrink off +in the crowd as if not belonging to his companion; and these were +the moments that stung him into longing to flee to the river, and +lose the sense of shame among common sailors: but there was +always some good angel to hold him back from desperate +measures—chiefly just then, the love between us three +brothers, a love that never cooled throughout our lives, and +which dear old Griff made much more apparent at this critical +time than in the old Win and Slow days of school. That +return of his enlivened us all, and removed the terrible +constraint from our meals, bringing us back, as it were, to +ordinary life and natural intercourse among ourselves and with +our neighbours.</p> +<h2><a name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +43</span>CHAPTER VI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘But when I lay upon the shore,<br /> + Like some poor wounded thing,<br /> +I deemed I should not evermore<br /> + Refit my wounded wing.<br /> +Nailed to the ground and fastened there,<br /> +This was the thought of my despair.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Abp. +Trench</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Clarence’s</span> debut at the +office was not wholly unsuccessful. He wrote a good hand, +and had a good deal of method and regularity in his nature, +together with a real sense of gratitude to Mr. Castleford; and +this bore him through the weariness of his new employment, and, +what was worse, the cold reception he met with from the other +clerks. He was too quiet and reserved for the wilder +spirits, too much of a gentleman for others, and in the eyes of +the managers, and especially of the senior partner, a disgraced, +untrustworthy youth foisted on the office by Mr. +Castleford’s weak partiality. That old Mr. Frith had, +Clarence used to say, a perfectly venomous way of accepting his +salute, and seemed always surprised and disappointed if he came +in in time, or showed up correct work. Indeed, the old man +was disliked and feared by all his subordinates as much as his +partner was loved; and while Mr. Castleford, with his +good-natured Irish wife and merry family, lived a life as +cheerful as it was beneficent, Mr. Frith dwelt entirely alone, in +rooms over the office, preserving the habits formed when his +income had been narrow, and mistrusting everybody.</p> +<p>At the end of the first month of experiment, Mr. Castleford +declared himself contented with Clarence’s industry and +steadiness, and permanent arrangements were made, to which +Clarence submitted with an odd sort of passive gratitude, such as +almost angered my father, who little knew how trying the position +really was, nor how a certain home-sickness for the seafaring +life was tugging at the lad’s heart, and making each +morning’s entrance at the counting-house an +effort—each merchant-captain, redolent of the sea, an +object of envy. My mother would have sympathised here, but +Clarence feared her more than my father, and she was living in +continual dread of some explosion, so that her dark curls began +to show streaks of gray, and her face to lose its round +youthfulness.</p> +<p>Lent brought the question of Confirmation. Under the +influence of good Bishop Blomfield, and in the wave of +evangelical revival—then at its flood +height—Confirmation was becoming a more prominent subject +with religious people than it had probably ever been in our +Church, and it was recognised that some preparation was desirable +beyond the power of repeating the Church Catechism. This +was all that had been required of my father at Harrow. My +mother’s godfather, a dignified clergyman, had simply said, +‘I suppose, my dear, you know all about it;’ and as +for the Admiral, he remarked, ‘Confirmed! I never was +confirmed anything but a post-captain!’</p> +<p>Our incumbent was more attentive to his duties, or rather +recognised more duties, than his predecessor. He preached +on the subject, and formed classes, sixteen being then the limit +of age,—since the idea of the vow, having become far more +prominent than that of the blessing, it was held that full +development of the will and understanding was needful.</p> +<p>I was of the requisite age, and my father spoke to the +clergyman, who called, and, as I could not attend the classes, +gave me books to read and questions to answer. Clarence +read and discussed the questions with me, showing so much more +insight into them, and fuller knowledge of Scripture than I +possessed, that I exclaimed, ‘Why should you not go up for +Confirmation too?’</p> +<p>‘No,’ he answered mournfully. ‘I must +take no more vows if I can’t keep them. It would just +be profane.’</p> +<p>I had no more to say; indeed, my parents held the same +view. It was good Mr. Castleford who saw things +differently. He was a clergyman’s son, and had been +bred up in the old orthodoxy, which was just beginning to put +forth fresh shoots, and, as a quasi-godfather, he held himself +bound to take an interest in our religious life, while the +sponsors, whose names stood in the family Bible, and whose spoons +reposed in the plate-chest, never troubled themselves on the +matter. I remember Clarence leaning over me and saying, +‘Mr. Castleford thinks I might be confirmed. He says +it is not so much the promise we make as of coming to Almighty +God for strength to keep what we are bound by already! He +is going to speak to papa.’</p> +<p>Perhaps no one except Mr. Castleford could have prevailed over +the fear of profanation in the mind of my father, who was, in his +old-fashioned way, one of the most reverent of men, and could not +bear to think of holy things being approached by one under a +stigma, nor of exposing his son to add to his guilt by taking and +breaking further pledges. However, he was struck by his +friend’s arguments, and I heard him telling my mother that +when he had wished to wait till there had been time to prove +sincerity of repentance by a course of steadiness, the answer had +been that it was hard to require strength, while denying the +means of grace. My mother was scarcely convinced, but as he +had consented she yielded without a protest; and she was really +glad that I should have Clarence at my side to help me at the +ceremony. The clergyman was applied to, and consented to +let Clarence attend the classes, where his knowledge, +comprehension, and behaviour were exemplary, so that a letter was +written to my father expressive of perfect satisfaction with +him. ‘There,’ said my father, ‘I knew it +would be so! It is not <i>that</i> which I want.’</p> +<p>The Confirmation seemed at the time a very short and +perfunctory result of our preparation; and, as things were +conducted or misconducted then, involved so much crowding and +distress that I recollect very little but clinging to +Clarence’s arm under a strong sense of my +infirmities,—the painful attempt at kneeling, and the big +outstretched lawn sleeves while the blessing was pronounced over +six heads at once, and then the struggle back to the pew, while +the silver-pokered apparitor looked grim at us, as though the +maimed and halt had no business to get into the way. Yet +this was a great advance upon former Confirmations, and the +Bishop met my father afterwards, and inquired most kindly after +his lame son.</p> +<p>We were disappointed, and felt that we could not attain to the +feelings in the Confirmation poem in the <i>Christian +Year</i>—Mr. Castleford’s gift to me. Still, I +believe that, though encumbered with such a drag as myself, +Clarence, more than I did,</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Felt Him how strong, our hearts how +frail,<br /> +And longed to own Him to the death.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But the evangelical belief that dejection ought to be followed +by a full sense of pardon and assurance of salvation somewhat +perplexed and dimmed our Easter Communion. For one short +moment, as Clarence turned to help my father lift me up from the +altar-rail, I saw his face and eyes radiant with a wonderful rapt +look; but it passed only too fast, and the more than ordinary +glimpse his spiritual nature had had made him all the more sad +afterwards, when he said, ‘I would give everything to know +that there was any steadfastness in my purpose to lead a new +life.’</p> +<p>‘But you are leading a new life.’</p> +<p>‘Only because there is no one to bully me,’ he +said. Still, there had been no reproach against him all the +time he had been at Frith and Castleford’s, when suddenly +we had a great shock.</p> +<p>Parties were running very high, and there were scurrilous +papers about, which my father perfectly abhorred; and one day at +dinner, when declaiming against something he had seen, he laid +down strict commands that none should be brought into the +house. Then, glancing at Clarence, something possessed him +to say, ‘You have not been buying any.’</p> +<p>‘No, sir,’ Clarence answered; but a few minutes +later, when we were alone together, the others having left him to +help me upstairs, he exclaimed, ‘Edward, what is to be +done? I didn’t buy it; but there is one of those +papers in my great-coat pocket. Pollard threw it on my +desk; and there was something in it that I thought would amuse +you.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! why didn’t you say so?’</p> +<p>‘There I am again! I simply could not, with his +eye on me! Miserable being that I am! Oh, where is +the spirit of ghostly strength?’</p> +<p>‘Helping you now to take it to papa in the study and +explain!’ I cried; but the struggle in that tall fellow was +as if he had been seven years old instead of seventeen, ere he +put his hand over his face and gave me his arm to come out into +the hall, fetch the paper, and make his confession. Alas! +we were too late. The coat had been moved, the paper had +fallen out; and there stood my mother with it in her hand, +looking at Clarence with an awful stony face of mute grief and +reproach, while he stammered forth what he had said before, and +that he was about to give it to my father. She turned away, +bitterly, contemptuously indignant and incredulous; and my +corroborations only served to give both her and my father a +certain dread of Clarence’s influence over me, as though I +had been either deceived or induced to back him in deceiving +them. The unlucky incident plunged him back into the +depths, just as he had begun to emerge. Slight as it was, +it was no trifle to him, in spite of Griffith’s +exclamation, ‘How absurd! Is a fellow to be bound to +give an account of everything he looks at as if he were six years +old? Catch me letting my mother pry into my pockets! +But you are too meek, Bill; you perfectly invite them to make a +row about nothing!’</p> +<h2><a name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +50</span>CHAPTER VII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE INHERITANCE.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘For he that needs five thousand pound to +live<br /> +Is full as poor as he that needs but five.<br /> +But if thy son can make ten pound his measure,<br /> +Then all thou addest may be called his treasure.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">George +Herbert</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was in the spring of 1829 that +my father received a lawyer’s letter announcing the death +of James Winslow, Esquire, of Chantry House, Earlscombe, and +inviting him, as heir-at-law, to be present at the funeral and +opening of the will. The surprise to us all was +great. Even my mother had hardly heard of Chantry House +itself, far less as a possible inheritance; and she had only once +seen James Winslow. He was the last of the elder branch of +the family, a third cousin, and older than my father, who had +known him in times long past. When they had last met, the +Squire of Chantry House was a married man, with more than one +child; my father a young barrister; and as one lived entirely in +the country and the other in town, without any special +congeniality, no intercourse had been kept up, and it was a +surprise to hear that he had left no surviving children. My +father greatly doubted whether being heir-at-law would prove to +avail him anything, since it was likely that so distant a +relation would have made a will in favour of some nearer +connection on his wife’s or mother’s side. He +was very vague about Chantry House, only knowing that it was +supposed to be a fair property, and he would hardly consent to +take Griffith with him by the Western Royal Mail, warning him and +all the rest of us that our expectations would be +disappointed.</p> +<p>Nevertheless we looked out the gentlemen’s seats in +<i>Paterson’s Road Book</i>, and after much research, for +Chantry House lay far off from the main road, we came +upon—‘Chantry House, Earlscombe, the seat of James +Winslow, Esquire, once a religious foundation; beautifully +situated on a rising ground, commanding an extensive +prospect—’</p> +<p>‘A religious foundation!’ cried Emily. +‘It will be a dear delicious old abbey, all Gothic +architecture, with cloisters and ruins and ghosts.’</p> +<p>‘Ghosts!’ said my mother severely, ‘what has +put such nonsense into your head?’</p> +<p>Nevertheless Emily made up her mind that Chantry House would +be another Melrose, and went about repeating the moonlight scene +in the <i>Lay of the Last Minstrel</i> whenever she thought no +one was there to laugh at her.</p> +<p>My father and Griffith returned with the good news that there +was no mistake. Chantry House was really his own, with the +estate belonging to it, reckoned at £5000 a year, exclusive +of a handsome provision to Miss Selby, the niece of the late Mrs. +Winslow, a spinster of a certain age, who had lived with her +uncle, and now proposed to remove to Bath. Mr. Winslow had, +it appeared, lost his only son as a schoolboy, and his daughters, +like their mother, had been consumptive. He had always been +resolved that the estate should continue in the family; but +reluctance to see any one take his son’s place had withheld +him from making any advances to my father; and for several years +past he had been in broken health with failing faculties.</p> +<p>Of course there was much elation. Griff described as +charming the place, perched on the southern slope of a wooded +hill, with a broad fertile valley lying spread out before it, and +the woods behind affording every promise of sport. The +house, my father said, was good, odd and irregular, built at +different times, but quite habitable, and with plenty of +furniture, though he opined that mamma would think it needed +modernising, to which she replied that our present chattels would +make a great difference; whereat my father, looking at the +effects of more than twenty years of London blacks, gave a little +whistle, for she was always the economical one of the pair.</p> +<p>Emily, with glowing cheeks and eager eyes, entreated to know +whether it was Gothic, and had a cloister! Papa nipped her +hopes of a cloister, but there were Gothic windows and doorway, +and a bit of ruin in the garden, a fragment of the old +chapel.</p> +<p>My father could not resign his office without notice, and, +besides, he wished Miss Selby to have leisure for leaving her +home of many years; after which there would be a few needful +repairs. The delay was not a great grievance to any of us +except little Martyn. We were much more Cockney than almost +any one is in these days of railways. We were unusually +devoid of kindred on both sides, my father’s holidays were +short, I was not a very movable commodity, and economy forbade +long journeys, so that we had never gone farther than Ramsgate, +where we claimed a certain lodging-house as a sort of right every +summer.</p> +<p>Real country was as much unknown to us as the backwoods. +My father alone had been born and bred to village life and +habits, for my mother had spent her youth in a succession of +seaport towns, frequented by men-of-war. We heard, too, +that Chantry House was very secluded, with only a few cottages +near at hand—a mile and a half from the church and village +of Earlscombe, three from the tiny country town of Wattlesea, +four from the place where the coach passed, connecting it with +the civilisation of Bath and Bristol, from each of which places +it was about half a day’s distance, according to the +measures of those times. It was a sort of banishment to +people accustomed to the stream of life in London; and though the +consequence and importance derived from being raised to the ranks +of the Squirearchy were agreeable, they were a dear purchase at +the cost of being out of reach of all our friends and +acquaintances, as well as of other advantages.</p> +<p>To my father, however, the retirement from his many years of +drudgery was really welcome, and he had preserved enough of +country tastes to rejoice that it was, as he said, a clear duty +to reside on his estate and look after his property. My +mother saw his relief in the prospect, and suppressed her sighs +at the dislocation of her life-long habits, and the loss of +intercourse with the acquaintance whom separation raised to the +rank of intimate friends, even her misgivings as to butchers, +bakers, and grocers in the wilderness, and still worse, as to +doctors for me.</p> +<p>‘Humph!’ said the Admiral, ‘the boy will be +all the better without them.’</p> +<p>And so I was; I can’t say they were the subject of much +regret, but I was really sorry to leave our big neighbour, the +British Museum, where there were good friends who always made me +welcome, and encouraged me in studies of coins and heraldry, +which were great resources to me, so that I used to spend hours +there, and was by no means willing to resign my ambition of +obtaining an appointment there, when I heard my father say that +he was especially thankful for his good fortune because it +enabled him to provide for me. There were lessons, too, +from masters in languages, music, and drawing, which Emily and I +shared, and which she had just begun to value thoroughly. +We had filled whole drawing-books with wriggling twists of +foliage in B B B marking pencil, and had just been promoted to +water-colours; and she was beginning to sing very prettily. +I feared, too, that I should no longer have a chance of rivalling +Griffith’s university studies. All this, with my +sister’s girl friends, and those kind people who used to +drop in to play chess, and otherwise amuse me, would all be left +behind; and, sorest of all, Clarence, who, whatever he was in the +eyes of others, had grown to be my mainstay during this last +year. He it was who fetched me from the Museum, took me +into the gardens, helped me up and down stairs, spared no pains +to rout out whatever my fanciful pursuits required from shops in +the City, and, in very truth, spoilt me through all his hours +that were free from business, besides being my most perfect +sympathising and understanding companion.</p> +<p>I feared, too, that he would be terribly lonesome, though of +late he had been less haunted by longings for the sea, had made +some way with his fellows, and had been commended by the managing +clerk; and it was painful to find the elders did not grieve on +their own account at parting with him. My mother told the +Admiral that she thought it would be good for Mr. Winslow’s +spirits not to be continually reminded of his trouble; and my +father might be heard confiding to Mr. Castleford that the +separation might be good for both her and her son, if only the +lad could be trusted. To which that good man replied by +giving him an excellent character; but was only met by a sigh, +and ‘Well, we shall see!’</p> +<p>Clarence was to be lodged with Peter, whose devotion would not +extend to following us into barbarism, where, as he told us, he +understood there was no such thing as a ‘harea,’ and +master would have to kill his own mutton.</p> +<p>Peter had been tranquilly engaged to Gooch for years +untold. They were to be transformed into Mr. and Mrs. +Robson, with some small appointment about the Law Courts for him, +and a lodging-house for her, where Clarence was to abide, my +mother feeling secure that neither his health, his morals, nor +his shirts could go much astray without her receiving warning +thereof.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, by the help of an antiquarian friend of my father, +Mr. Stafford, who was great in county history, I hunted up in the +Museum library all I could discover about our new possession.</p> +<p>The Chantry of St. Cecily at Earlscombe, in Somersetshire, +had, it appeared, been founded and endowed by Dame Isabel +d’Oyley, in the year of grace 1434, that constant prayers +might be offered for the souls of her husband and son, slain in +the French wars. The poor lady’s intentions, which to +our Protestant minds appeared rather shocking than otherwise, had +been frustrated at the break up of such establishments, when the +Chantry, and the estate that maintained its clerks and bedesmen, +was granted to Sir Harry Power, from whom, through two heiresses, +it had come to the Fordyces, the last of whom, by name Margaret, +had died childless, leaving the estate to her stepson, Philip +Winslow, our ancestor.</p> +<p>Moreover, we learnt that a portion of the building was of +ancient date, and that there was an ‘interesting +fragment’ of the old chapel in the grounds, which our good +friend promised himself the pleasure of investigating on his +first holiday.</p> +<p>To add to our newly-acquired sense of consideration and of +high pedigree, the family chariot, after taking Miss Selby to +Bath, came up post to London to be touched up at the +coachbuilder’s, have the escutcheon altered so as to impale +the Griffith coat instead of the Selby, and finally to convey us +to our new abode, in preparation for which all its boxes came to +be packed.</p> +<p>A chariot! You young ones have as little notion of one +as of a British war-chariot armed with scythes. Yet people +of a certain grade were as sure to keep their chariot as their +silver tea-pot; indeed we knew one young couple who started in +life with no other habitation, but spent their time as nomads, in +visits to their relations and friends, for visits <i>were</i> +visits then.</p> +<p>The capacities of a chariot were considerable. Within, +there was a good-sized seat for the principal occupants, and +outside a dickey behind, and a driving box before, though +sometimes there was only one of these, and that +transferable. The boxes were calculated to hold family +luggage on a six months’ tour. There they lay on the +spare-room floor, ready to be packed, the first earnest of our +new possessions—except perhaps the five-pound note my +father gave each of us four elder ones, on the day the balance at +the bank was made over to him. There was the imperial, a +grand roomy receptacle, which was placed on the top of the +carriage, and would not always go upstairs in small houses; the +capbox, which fitted into a curved place in front of the windows, +and could not stand alone, but had a frame to support it; two +long narrow boxes with the like infirmity of standing, which +fitted in below; square ones under each seat; and a drop box +fastened on behind. There were pockets beneath each window, +and, curious relic in name and nature of the time when every +gentleman carried his weapon, there was the sword case, an +excrescence behind the back of the best seat, accessible by +lifting a cushion, where weapons used to be carried, but where in +our peaceful times travellers bestowed their luncheon and their +books.</p> +<p>Our chariot was black above, canary yellow below, beautifully +varnished, and with our arms blazoned on each door. It was +lined with dark blue leather and cloth, picked out with blue and +yellow lace in accordance with our liveries, and was a gorgeous +spectacle. I am afraid Emily did not share in Mistress +Gilpin’s humility when</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘The +chaise was brought,<br /> + But yet was not allowed<br /> +To drive up to the door, lest all<br /> + Should say that she was proud!’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It was then that Emily and I each started a diary to record +the events of our new life. Hers flourished by fits and +starts; but I having perforce more leisure than she, mine has +gone on with few interruptions till the present time, and is the +backbone of this narrative, which I compile and condense from it +and other sources before destroying it.</p> +<h2><a name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +59</span>CHAPTER VIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE OLD HOUSE.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Your history whither are you spinning?<br +/> + Can you do nothing but describe?<br /> +A house there is, and that’s enough!’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Gray</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>How we did enjoy our journey, when the wrench from our old +home was once made. We did not even leave Clarence behind, +for Mr. Castleford had given him a holiday, so that he might not +appear to be kept at a distance, as if under a cloud, and might +help me through our travels.</p> +<p>My mother and I occupied the inside of the carriage, with +Emily between us at the outset; but when we were off the London +stones she was often allowed to make a third on the dickey with +Clarence and Martyn, whose ecstatic heels could be endured for +the sake of the free air and the view. Of course we posted, +and where there were severe hills we indulged in four +horses. The varieties of the jackets of our post-boys, blue +or yellow, as supposed to indicate the politics of their inns, +were interesting to us, as everything was interesting then. +Otherwise their equipment was exactly alike—neat drab +corduroy breeches and top-boots, and hats usually white, and they +were all boys, though the red faces and grizzled hair of some +looked as if they had faced the weather for at least fifty +years.</p> +<p>It was a beautiful August, and the harvest fields were a sight +perfectly new, filling us with rapture unspeakable. At +every hill which offered an excuse, our outsiders were on their +feet, thrusting in their heads and hands to us within with +exclamations of delight, and all sorts of +discoveries—really new to us three younger ones. Ears +of corn, bearded barley, graceful oats, poppies, corn-flowers, +were all delicious novelties to Emily and me, though Griff and my +father laughed at our ecstasies, and my mother occasionally +objected to the wonderful accumulation of curiosities thrust into +her lap or the door pockets, and tried to persuade Martyn that +rooks’ wings, dead hedgehogs, sticks and stones of various +merits, might be found at Earlscombe, until Clarence, by the +judicious purchase of a basket at Salisbury, contrived to satisfy +all parties and safely dispose of the treasures. The +objects that stand out in my memory on that journey were +Salisbury Spire, and a long hill where the hedgebank was one mass +of the exquisite rose-bay willow herb—a perfect revelation +to our city-bred eyes; but indeed, the whole route was like one +panorama to us of <i>L’Allegro</i> and other descriptions +on which we had fed. For in those days we were much more +devoted to poetry than is the present generation, which has a +good deal of false shame on that head.</p> +<p>Even dining and sleeping at an inn formed a pleasing novelty, +though we did not exactly sympathise with Martyn when he dashed +in at breakfast exulting in having witnessed the killing of a +pig. As my father observed, it was too like realising +Peter’s forebodings of our return to savage life.</p> +<p>Demonstrations were not the fashion of these times, and there +was a good deal of dull discontent and disaffection in the air, +so that no tokens of welcome were prepared for us—not even +a peal of bells; nor indeed should we have heard them if they had +been rung, for the church was a mile and a half beyond the house, +with a wood between cutting off the sound, except in certain +winds. We did not miss a reception, which would rather have +embarrassed us. We began to think it was time to arrive, +and my father believed we were climbing the last hill, when, just +as we had passed a remarkably pretty village and church, Griffith +called out to say that we were on our own ground. He had +made his researches with the game keeper while my father was busy +with the solicitor, and could point to our boundary wall, a +little below the top of the hill on the northern side. He +informed us that the place we had passed was +Hillside—Fordyce property,—but this was Earlscombe, +our own. It was a great stony bit of pasture with a few +scattered trees, but after the flat summit was past, the southern +side was all beechwood, where a gate admitted us into a drive cut +out in a slant down the otherwise steep descent, and coming out +into an open space. And there we were!</p> +<p>The old house was placed on the widest part of a kind of shelf +or natural terrace, of a sort of amphitheatre shape, with wood on +either hand, but leaving an interval clear in the midst broad +enough for house and gardens, with a gentle green slope behind, +and a much steeper one in front, closed in by the +beechwoods. The house stood as it were sideways, or had +been made to do so by later inhabitants. I know this is +very long-winded, but there have been such alterations that +without minute description this narrative will be +unintelligible.</p> +<p>The aspect was northwards so far as the lie of the ground was +concerned, but the house stood across. The main body was of +the big symmetrical Louis XIV. style—or, as it is now the +fashion to call it, Queen Anne—brick, with stone quoins, +big sash-windows, and a great square hall in the midst, with the +chief rooms opening into it. The principal entrance had +been on the north, with a huge front door and a flight of stone +steps, and just space enough for a gravel coach ring before the +rapid grassy descent. Later constitutions, however, must +have eschewed that northern front door, and later nerves that +narrow verge, and on the eastern front had been added that Gothic +porch of which Emily had heard,—and a flagrantly modern +Gothic porch it was, flanked by two comical little turrets, with +loopholes, from which a thread-paper or Tom Thumb might have +defended it. Otherwise it resembled a church porch, except +for the formidable points of a sham portcullis; but there was no +denying that it greatly increased the comfort of the house, with +its two sets of heavy doors, and the seats on either side. +The great hall door had been closed up, plastered over within, +and rendered inoffensive. Towards the west there was +another modern addition of drawing and dining rooms, and handsome +bedchambers above, in Gothic taste, <i>i.e.</i> with pointed +arches filled up with glass over the sash-windows. The +drawing-room was very pretty, with a glass door at the end +leading into an old-fashioned greenhouse, and two French windows +to the south opening upon the lawn, which soon began to slope +upwards, curving, as I said, like an amphitheatre, and was always +shady and sheltered, tilting its flower-beds towards the house as +if to display them. The dining-room had, in like manner, +one west and two north windows, the latter commanding a grand +view over the green meadow-land below, dotted with round knolls, +and rising into blue hills beyond. We became proud of +counting the villages and church towers we could see from +thence.</p> +<p>There was a still older portion, more ancient than the square +<i>corps de logis</i>, and built of the cream-coloured stone of +the country. It was at the south-eastern angle, where the +ground began sloping so near the house that this wing—if it +may so be called—containing two good-sized rooms nearly on +a level with the upper floor, had nothing below but some open +stone vaultings, under which it was only just possible for my +tall brothers to stand upright, at the innermost end. These +opened into the cellars which, no doubt, belonged to the +fifteenth-century structure. There seemed to have once been +a door and two or three steps to the ground, which rose very +close to the southern end; but this had been walled up. The +rooms had deep mullioned windows east and west, and very handsome +groined ceilings, and were entered by two steps down from the +gallery round the upper part of the hall. There was a very +handsome double staircase of polished oak, shaped like a Y, the +stem of which began just opposite the original front +door—making us wonder if people knew what draughts were in +the days of Queen Anne, and remember Madame de Maintenon’s +complaint that health was sacrificed to symmetry. Not far +from this oldest portion were some broken bits of wall and stumps +of columns, remnants of the chapel, and prettily wreathed with +ivy and clematis. We rejoiced in such a pretty and +distinctive ornament to our garden, and never troubled ourselves +about the desecration; and certainly ours was one of the most +delightful gardens that ever existed, what with green turf, +bright flowers, shapely shrubs, and the grand beech-trees +enclosing it with their stately white pillars, green foliage, and +the russet arcades beneath them. The stillness was +wonderful to ears accustomed to the London roar—almost a +new sensation. Emily was found, as she said, +‘listening to the silence;’ and my father declared +that no one could guess at the sense of rest that it gave +him.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p64b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Map of the house" +title= +"Map of the house" + src="images/p64s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Of space within there was plenty, though so much had been +sacrificed to the hall and staircase; and this was apparently the +cause of the modern additions, as the original sitting-rooms, +wainscotted and double-doored, were rather small for family +requirements. One of these, once the dining-room, became my +father’s study, where he read and wrote, saw his tenants, +and by and by acted as Justice of the Peace. The opposite +one, towards the garden, was termed the book-room. Here +Martyn was to do his lessons, and Emily and I carry on our +studies, and do what she called keeping up her +accomplishments. My couch and appurtenances abode there, +and it was to be my retreat from company,—or on occasion +could be made a supplementary drawing-room, as its fittings +showed it had been the parlour. It communicated with +another chamber, which became my own—sparing the +difficulties that stairs always presented; and beyond lay, niched +under the grand staircase, a tiny light closet, a passage-room, +where my mother put a bed for a man-servant, not liking to leave +me entirely alone on the ground floor. It led to a passage +to the garden door, also to my mother’s den, dedicated to +housewifely cares and stores, and ended at the back stairs, +descending to the servants’ region. This was very +old, handsomely vaulted with stone, and, owing to the fall of the +ground, had ample space for light on the north side,—where, +beyond the drive, the descent was so rapid as to afford Martyn +infinite delight in rolling down, to the horror of all beholders +and the detriment of his white duck trowsers.</p> +<p>I don’t know much about the upper story, so I spare you +that. Emily had a hankering for one of the pretty old +mullioned-windowed rooms—the mullion chambers, as she named +them; but Griff pounced on them at once, the inner for his +repose, the outer for his guns and his studies—not smoking, +for young men were never permitted to smoke within doors, nor +indeed in any home society. The choice of the son and heir +was undisputed, and he proceeded to settle his possessions in his +new domains, where they made an imposing appearance.</p> +<h2><a name="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +67</span>CHAPTER IX.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">RATS.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘As louder and louder, drawing near,<br /> +The gnawing of their teeth he could hear.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Southey</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>‘<span class="smcap">What</span> a ridiculous old fellow +that Chapman is,’ said Griff, coming in from a conference +with the gaunt old man who acted as keeper to our not very +extensive preserves. ‘I told him to get some gins for +the rats in my rooms, and he shook his absurd head like any +mandarin, and said, “There baint no trap as will rid you of +them kind of varmint, sir.”’</p> +<p>‘Of course,’ my father said, ‘rats are part +of the entail of an old house. You may reckon on +them.’</p> +<p>‘Those rooms of yours are the very place for +them,’ added my mother. ‘I only hope they will +not infest the rest of the house.’</p> +<p>To which Griff rejoined that they perpetrated the most +extraordinary noises he had ever heard from rats, and told Emily +she might be thankful to him for taking those rooms, for she +would have been frightened out of her little wits. He +meant, he said, to get a little terrier, and have a thorough good +rat hunt, at which Martyn capered about in irrepressible +ecstasy.</p> +<p>This, however, was deferred by the unwillingness of old +Chapman, of whom even Griff was somewhat in awe. His fame +as a sportsman had to be made, and he had had only such practice +as could be attained by shooting at a mark ever since he had been +aware of his coming greatness. So he was desirous of +conciliating Chapman, and not getting laughed at as the London +young gentleman who could not hit a hay-stack. My father, +who had been used to carrying a gun in his younger days, was much +amused, in his quiet way, at seeing Griff watch Chapman off on +his rounds, and then betake himself to the locality most remote +from the keeper’s ears to practise on the rook or +crow. Martyn always ran after him, having solemnly promised +not to touch the gun, and to keep behind. He was too +good-natured to send the little fellow back, though he often +tried to elude the pursuit, not wishing for a witness to his +attempts; and he never invited Clarence, who had had some +experience of curious game but never mentioned it.</p> +<p>Clarence devoted himself to Emily and me, tugging my +garden-chair along all the paths where it would go without too +much jolting, and when I had had enough, exploring those hanging +woods, either with her or on his own account. They used to +come home with their hands full of flowers, and this resulted in +a vehement attack of botany,—a taste that has lasted all +our lives, together with the <i>hortus siccus</i> to which we +still make additions, though there has been a revolution there as +well as everywhere else, and the Linnæan system we learnt +so eagerly from Martin’s <i>Letters</i> is altogether +exploded and antiquated. Still, my sister refuses to own +the scientific merits of the natural system, and can point to +school-bred and lectured young ladies who have no notion how to +discover the name or nature of a live plant.</p> +<p>On the Friday after our arrival the noises had been so fearful +that Griff had been exasperated into going off across the hills, +accompanied by his constant shadow, Martyn, in search of the +professional ratcatcher of the neighbourhood, in spite of +Chapman’s warning—that Tom Petty was the biggest +rascal in the neighbourhood, and a regular out and out poacher; +and as to the noises—he couldn’t ‘tackle the +like of they.’ After revelling in the beauty of the +beechwoods as long as was good for me or for Clarence, I was left +in the garden to sketch the ruin, while my two companions started +on one of their exploring expeditions.</p> +<p>It was getting late enough to think of going to prepare for +the six o’clock dinner when Emily came forth alone from the +path between the trees, announcing—‘An adventure, +Edward! We have had such an adventure.’</p> +<p>‘Where’s Clarence?’</p> +<p>‘Gone for the doctor! Oh, no; Griff hasn’t +shot anybody. He is gone for the ratcatcher, you +know. It is a poor little herdboy, who tumbled out of a +tree; and oh! such a sweet, beautiful, young lady—just like +a book!’</p> +<p>When Emily became less incoherent, it appeared that on coming +out on the bit of common above the wood, as she and Clarence were +halting on the brow of the hill to admire the view, they heard a +call for help, and hurrying down in the direction whence it +proceeded they saw a stunted ash-tree, beneath which were a young +lady and a little child bending over a village lad who lay +beneath moaning piteously. The girl, whom Emily described +as the most beautiful creature she ever saw, explained that the +boy, who had been herding the cattle scattered around, had been +climbing the tree, a limb of which had broken with him. She +had seen the fall from a distance, and hurried up; but she hardly +knew what to do, for her little sister was too young to be sent +in quest of assistance. Clarence thought one leg seriously +injured, and as the young lady seemed to know the boy, offered to +carry him home. School officers were yet in the future; +children were set to work almost as soon as they could walk, and +this little fellow was so light and thin as to shock Clarence +when he had been taken up on his back, for he weighed quite a +trifle. The young lady showed the way to a wretched little +cottage, where a bigger girl had just come in with a sheaf of +corn freshly gleaned poised on her head. They sent her to +fetch her mother, and Clarence undertook to go for a doctor, but +to the surprise and horror of Emily, there was a demur. +Something was said of old Molly and her ‘ile’ and +‘yarbs,’ or perhaps Madam could step round. +When Clarence, on this being translated to him, pronounced the +case beyond such treatment, it was explained outside the door +that this was a terribly poor family, and the doctor would not +come to parish patients for an indefinite time after his summons, +besides which, he lived at Wattlesea. ‘Indeed mamma +does almost all the doctoring with her medicine chest,’ +said the girl.</p> +<p>On which Clarence declared that he would let the doctor know +that he himself would be responsible for the cost of the +attendance, and set off for Wattlesea, a kind of town village in +the flat below. He could not get back till dinner was half +over, and came in alarmed and apologetic; but he had nothing +worse to encounter than Griff’s unmerciful banter (or, as +you would call it, chaff) about his knight errantry, and +Emily’s lovely heroine in the sweetest of cottage +bonnets.</p> +<p>Griff could be slightly tyrannous in his merry mockery, and +when he found that on the ensuing day Clarence proposed to go and +inquire after the patient, he made such wicked fun of the +expectations the pair entertained of hearing the sweet cottage +bonnet reading a tract in a silvery voice through the hovel +window, that he fairly teased and shamed Clarence out of starting +till the renowned Tom Petty arrived and absorbed all the three +brothers, and even their father, in delights as mysterious to me +as to Emily. How she shrieked when Martyn rushed +triumphantly into the room where we were arranging books with the +huge patriarch of all the rats dangling by his tail! Three +hopeful families were destroyed; rooms, vaults, and cellars +examined and cleared; and Petty declared the race to be +exterminated, picturesque ruffian that he was, in his shapeless +hat, rusty velveteen, long leggings, a live ferret in his pocket, +and festoons of dead rats over his shoulder.</p> +<p>Chapman, who regarded him much as the ferret did the rat, +declared that the rabbits and hares would suffer from letting +‘that there chap’ show his face here on any plea; +and, moreover, gave a grunt very like a scoff; at the idea of +slumbers in the mullion rooms (as they were called) being secured +by his good offices.</p> +<p>And Chapman was right. The unaccountable noises broke +out again—screaming, wailing, sobbing—sounds scarcely +within the power of cat or rat, but possibly the effect of the +wind in the old building. At any rate, Griff could not +stand them, and declared that sleep was impossible when the wind +was in that quarter, so that he must shift his bedroom elsewhere, +though he still wished to retain the outer apartment, which he +had taken pleasure in adorning with his special +possessions. My mother would scarcely have tolerated such +fancies in any one else, but Griff had his privileges.</p> +<h2><a name="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +73</span>CHAPTER X.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OUR TUNEFUL CHOIR.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘The church has been whitewashed, but right +long ago,<br /> +As the cracks and the dinginess amply doth show;<br /> +About the same time that a strange petrifaction<br /> +Confined the incumbent to mere Sunday action.<br /> +So many abuses in this place are rife,<br /> +The only church things giving token of life<br /> +Are the singing within and the nettles without—<br /> +Both equally rampant without any doubt.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right">F. R. <span +class="smcap">Havergal</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">All</span> Griff’s teasing could not +diminish—nay, rather increased—Emily’s +excitement in the hope of seeing and identifying the sweet +cottage bonnet at church on Sunday. The distance we had to +go was nearly two miles, and my mother and I drove thither in a +donkey chair, which had been hunted up in London for that purpose +because the ‘pheeāton’ (as the servants insisted +on calling it) was too high for me. My father had an +old-fashioned feeling about the Fourth Commandment, which made +him scrupulous as to using any animal on Sunday; and even when, +in bad weather, or for visitors, the larger carriage was used, he +always walked. He was really angry with Griff that morning +for mischievously maintaining that it was a greater breach of the +commandment to work an ass than a horse.</p> +<p>It was a pretty drive on a road slanting gradually through the +brushwood that clothed the steep face of the hillside, and +passing farms and meadows full of cattle—all things quieter +and stiller than ever in their Sunday repose. We knew that +the living was in Winslow patronage, but that it was in the hands +of one of the Selby connection, who held it, together with it is +not safe to say how many benefices, and found it necessary for +his health to reside at Bath. The vicarage had long since +been turned into a farmhouse, and the curate lived at +Wattlesea. All this we knew, but we had not realised that +he was likewise assistant curate there, and only favoured +Earlscombe with alternate morning and evening services on +Sundays.</p> +<p>Still less were we prepared for the interior of the +church. It had a picturesque square tower covered with ivy, +and a general air of fitness for a sketch; indeed, the photograph +of it in its present beautified state will not stand a comparison +with our drawings of it, in those days of dilapidation in the +middle of the untidy churchyard, with little boys astride on the +sloping, sunken lichen-grown headstones, mullein spikes and +burdock leaves, more graceful than the trim borders and zinc +crosses which are pleasanter to the mental eye.</p> +<p>The London church we had left would be a fearful shock to the +present generation, but we were accustomed to decency, order, and +reverence; and it was no wonder that my father was walking about +the churchyard, muttering that he never saw such a place, while +my brothers were full of amusement. Their spruce looks in +their tall hats, bright ties, dark coats, and white trowsers +strapped tight under their boots, looked incongruous with the +rest of the congregation, the most distinguished members of which +were farmers in drab coats with huge mother-of-pearl buttons, and +long gaiters buttoned up to their knees and strapped up to their +gay waistcoats over their white corduroys. Their wives and +daughters were in enormous bonnets, fluttering with ribbons; but +then what my mother and Emily wore were no trifles. The +rest of the congregation were—the male part of it—in +white or gray smock-frocks, the elderly women in black bonnets, +the younger in straw; but we had not long to make our +observations, for Chapman took possession of us. He was +parish clerk, and was in great glory in his mourning coat and +hat, and his object was to marshal us all into our pew before he +had to attend upon the clergyman; and of course I was glad enough +to get as soon as possible out of sight of all the eyes not yet +accustomed to my figure.</p> +<p>And hidden enough I was when we had been introduced through +the little north chancel door into a black-curtained, +black-cushioned, black-lined pew, well carpeted, with a table in +the midst, and a stove, whose pipe made its exit through the +floriated tracery of the window overhead. The chancel arch +was to the west of us, blocked up by a wooden parcel-gilt +erection, and to the east a decorated window that would have been +very handsome if two side-lights had not been obscured by the two +Tables of the Law, with the royal arms on the top of the first +table, and over the other our own, with the Fordyce in a +scutcheon of pretence; for, as an inscription recorded, they had +been erected by Margaret, daughter of Christopher Fordyce, +Esquire, of Chantry House, and relict of Sir James John Winslow, +Kt., sergeant-at-law, <span class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> +1700—the last date, I verily believe, at which anything had +been done to the church. And on the wall, stopping up the +southern chancel window, was a huge marble slab, supported by +angels blowing trumpets, with a very long inscription about the +Fordyce family, ending with this same Margaret, who had married +the Winslow, lost two or three infants, and died on 1st January +1708, three years later than her husband.</p> +<p>Thus far I could see; but Griff was standing lifting the +curtain, and showing by the working of his shoulders his +amazement and diversion, so that only the daggers in my +mother’s eyes kept Martyn from springing up after +him. What he beheld was an altar draped in black like a +coffin, and on the step up to the rail, boys and girls eating +apples and performing antics to beguile the waiting time, while a +row of white-smocked old men occupied the bench opposite to our +seat, conversing loud enough for us to hear them.</p> +<p>My father and Clarence came in; the bells stopped; there was a +sound of steps, and in the fabric in front of us there emerged a +grizzled head and the back of a very dirty surplice besprinkled +with iron moulds, while Chapman’s back appeared above our +curtain, his desk (full of dilapidated prayer-books) being wedged +in between us and the reading-desk.</p> +<p>The duet that then took place between him and the curate must +have been heard to be credible, especially as, being so close +behind the old man, we could not fail to be aware of all the +remarkable shots at long words which he bawled out at the top of +his voice, and I refrain from recording, lest they should haunt +others as they have done by me all my life. Now and then +Chapman caught up a long switch and dashed out at some +obstreperous child to give an audible whack; and towards the +close of the litany he stumped out—we heard his tramp the +whole length of the church, and by and by his voice issued from +an unknown height, proclaiming—‘Let us sing to the +praise and glory — in an anthem taken from the 42d chapter +of Genesis.’</p> +<p>There was an outburst of bassoon, clarionet, and fiddle, and +the performance that followed was the most marvellous we had ever +heard, especially when the big butcher—fiddling all the +time—declared in a mighty solo, ‘I am +Jo—Jo—Jo—Joseph!’ and having reiterated +this information four or five times, inquired with equal +pertinacity, ‘Doth—doth my fa-a-u-ther yet +live?’ Poor Emily was fairly ‘convulsed;’ +she stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth, and grew so crimson +that my mother was quite frightened, and very near putting her +out at the little door of excommunication. To our last hour +we shall never forget the shock of that first anthem.</p> +<p>The Commandments were read from the desk, Chapman’s +solitary response coming from the gallery; and while the second +singing—four verses from Tate and Brady—was going on, +we beheld the surplice stripped off,—like the slough of a +May-fly, as Griff said,—when a rusty black gown was +revealed, in which the curate ascended the pulpit and was lost to +our view before the concluding verse of the psalm, which we had +reason to believe was selected in compliment to us, as well as to +Earlscombe,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘My lot is fall’n in that blest +land<br /> + Where God is truly know,<br /> +He fills my cup with liberal hand;<br /> + ’Tis He—’tis He—’tis +He—supports my throne.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We had great reason to doubt how far the second line could +justly be applied to the parish! but there was no judging of the +sermon, for only detached sentences reached us in a sort of +mumble. Griff afterwards declared churchgoing to be as good +as a comedy, and we all had to learn to avoid meeting each +other’s eyes, whatever we might hear. When the +scuffle and tramp of the departing congregation had ceased, we +came forth from our sable box, and beheld the remnants of a once +handsome church, mauled in every possible way, green stains on +the walls, windows bricked up, and a huge singing gallery. +Good bits of carved stall work were nailed anyhow into the pews; +the floor was uneven; no font was visible; there was a mouldy +uncared-for look about everything. The curate in +riding-boots came out of the vestry,—a pale, weary-looking +man, painfully meek and civil, with gray hair sleeked round his +face. He ‘louted low,’ and seemed hardly to +venture on taking the hand my father held out to him. There +was some attempt to enter into conversation with him, but he +begged to be excused, for he had to hurry back to Wattlesea to a +funeral. Poor man! he was as great a pluralist as his +vicar, for he kept a boys’ school, partially day, partially +boarding, and his eyes looked hungrily at Martyn.</p> +<p>If the ‘sweet cottage bonnet’ had been at church +there would have been little chance of discovering her, but we +found that we were the only ‘quality,’ as Chapman +called it, or things might not have been so bad. Old James +Winslow had been a mere fox-hunting squire till he became a +valetudinarian; nor had he ever cared for the church or for the +poor, so that the village was in a frightful state of +neglect. There was a dissenting chapel, old enough to be +overgrown with ivy and not too hideous, erected by the +Nonconformists in the reign of the Great Deliverer, but this +partook of the general decadence of the parish, and, as we found, +the chapel’s principal use was to serve as an excuse for +not going to church.</p> +<p>My father always went to church twice, so he and Clarence +walked to Wattlesea, where appearances were more respectable; but +they heard the same sermon over again, and, as my father drily +remarked, it was not a composition that would bear +repetition.</p> +<p>He was much distressed at the state of things, and intended to +write to the incumbent, though, as he said, whatever was done +would end by being at his own expense, and the move and other +calls left him so little in hand that he sighed over the +difficulties, and declared that he was better off in London, +except for the honour of the thing. Perhaps my mother was +of the same opinion after a dreary afternoon, when Griff and +Martyn had been wandering about aimlessly, and were at length +betrayed by the barking of a little terrier, purchased the day +before from Tom Petty, besieging the stable cat, who stood with +swollen tail, glaring eyes, and thunderous growls, on the top of +the tallest pillar of the ruins. Emily nearly cried at +their cruelty. Martyn was called off by my mother, and set +down, half sulky, half ashamed, to <i>Henry and his Bearer</i>; +and Griff, vowing that he believed it was that brute who made the +row at night, and that she ought to be exterminated, strolled off +to converse with Chapman, who was a quaint compound of clerk and +keeper—in the one capacity upholding his late master, in +the other bemoaning Mr. Mears’ unpunctualities, specially +as regarded weddings and funerals; one ‘corp’ having +been kept waiting till a messenger had been sent to Wattlesea, +who finding both clergy out for the day, had had to go to +Hillside, ‘where they was always ready, though the old +Squire would have been mad with him if he’d a-guessed one +of they Fordys had ever set foot in the parish.’</p> +<p>The only school in the place was close to the meeting-house, +‘a very dame’s school indeed,’ as Emily +described it after a peep on Monday. Dame Dearlove, the old +woman who presided, was a picture of Shenstone’s +schoolmistress,—black bonnet, horn spectacles, fearful +birch rod, three-cornered buff ’kerchief, checked apron and +all, but on meddling with her, she proved a very dragon, the +antipodes of her name. Tattered copies of the <i>Universal +Spelling-Book</i> served her aristocracy, ragged Testaments the +general herd, whence all appeared to be shouting aloud at +once. She looked sour as verjuice when my mother and Emily +entered, and gave them to understand that ‘she wasn’t +used to no strangers in her school, and didn’t want +’em.’ We found that in Chapman’s opinion +she ‘didn’t larn ’em nothing.’ She +had succeeded her aunt, who had taught him to read ‘right +off,’ but ‘her baint to be compared with +she.’ And now the farmers’ children, and the +little aristocracy, including his own grand-children,—all +indeed who, in his phrase, ‘cared for +eddication,’—went to Wattlesea.</p> +<h2><a name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +82</span>CHAPTER XI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">‘THEY FORDYS.’</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Of honourable reckoning are you both,<br /> +And pity ’tis, you lived at odds so long.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Shakespeare</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> father had a good deal of +business in hand, and was glad of Clarence’s help in +writing and accounts,—a great pleasure, though it prevented +his being Griff’s companion in his exploring and essays at +shooting. He had time, however, to make an expedition with +me in the donkey chair to inquire after the herdboy, Amos Bell, +and carry him some kitchen physic. To our horror we found +him quite alone in the wretched cottage, while everybody was out +harvesting; but he did not seem to pity himself, or think it +otherwise than quite natural, as he lay on a little bed in the +corner, disabled by what Clarence thought a dislocation. +Miss Ellen had brought him a pudding, and little Miss Anne a +picture-book.</p> +<p>He was not so dense and shy as the children of the hamlet near +us, and Emily extracted from him that Miss Ellen was ‘Our +passon’s young lady.’</p> +<p>‘Mr. Mears’!’ she exclaimed.</p> +<p>‘No: ourn be Passon Fordy.’</p> +<p>It turned out that this place was not in Earlscombe at all, +but in Hillside, a different parish; and the boy, Amos, further +communicated that there was old Passon Fordy, and Passon Frank, +and Madam, what was Mr. Frank’s lady. Yes, he could +read, he could; he went to Sunday School, and was in Miss +Ellen’s class; he had been to school worky days, only +father was dead, and Farmer Hartop gave him a job.</p> +<p>It was plain that Hillside was under a very different rule +from Earlscombe; and Emily was delighted to have discovered that +the sweet cottage bonnet’s owner was called Ellen, which +just then was the pet Christian name of romance, in honour of the +<i>Lady of the Lake</i>.</p> +<p>In the midst of her raptures, however, just as we were about +to turn in at our own gate into the wood, we heard horses’ +hoofs, and then came, careering by on ponies, a very pretty girl +and a youth of about the same age. Clarence’s hand +rose to his hat, and he made his eager bow; but the young lady +did not vouchsafe the slightest acknowledgment, turned her head +away, and urged her pony to speed.</p> +<p>Emily broke out with an angry disappointed exclamation. +Clarence’s face was scarlet, and he said low and hoarsely, +‘That’s Lester. He was in the <i>Argus</i> at +Portsmouth two years ago;’—and then, as our little +sister continued her indignant exclamations, he added, +‘Hush! Don’t on any account say a word about +it. I had better get back to my work. I am only doing +you harm by staying here.’</p> +<p>At which Emily shed tears, and together we persuaded him not +to curtail his holiday, which, indeed, he could not have done +without assigning the reason to the elders, and this was out of +the question. Nor did he venture to hang back when, as our +service was to be on Sunday afternoon, my father proposed to walk +to Hillside Church in the morning. They came back well +pleased. There was care and decency throughout. The +psalms were sung to a ‘grinder organ’—which was +an advanced state of things in those days—and very +nicely. Parson Frank read well and impressively, and the +old parson, a fine venerable man, had preached an excellent +sermon—really admirable, as my father repeated. Our +party had been scarcely in time, and had been disposed of in +seats close to the door, where Clarence was quite out of sight of +the disdainful young lady and her squire, of whom Emily begged to +hear no more.</p> +<p>She looked askance at the cards left on the hall table the +next day—‘The Rev. Christopher Fordyce,’ and +‘The Rev. F. C. Fordyce,’ also ‘Mrs. F. C. +Fordyce, Hillside Rectory.’</p> +<p>We had found out that Hillside was a family living, and that +there was much activity there on the part of the father and +son—rector and curate; and that the other clerical folk, +ladies especially, who called on us, spoke of Mrs. F. C. Fordyce +with a certain tone, as if they were afraid of her, as Sir Horace +Lester’s sister,—very superior, very active, very +strict in her notions,—as if these were so many +defects. They were an offshoot of the old Fordyces of +Chantry House, but so far back that all recollection of kindred +or connection must have worn out. Their property—all +in beautiful order—marched with ours, and Chapman was very +particular about the boundaries. ‘Old master he +wouldn’t have a bird picked up if it fell over on they +Fordys’ ground—not he! He couldn’t abide +passons, couldn’t the old Squire—not Miss Hannah +More, and all they Cheddar lot, and they Fordys least of +all. My son’s wife, she was for sending her little +maid to Hillside to Madam Fordys’ school, but, bless your +heart, ’twould have been as much as my place was worth if +master had known it.’</p> +<p>The visit was not returned till after Clarence had gone back +to his London work. Sore as was the loss of him from my +daily life, I could see that the new world and fresh +acquaintances were a trial to him, and especially since the +encounter with young Lester had driven him back into his shell, +so that he would be better where he was already known and had +nothing new to overcome. Emily, though not yet sixteen, was +emancipated from schoolroom habits, and the dear girl was my +devoted slave to an extent that perhaps I abused.</p> +<p>Not being ‘come out,’ she was left at home on the +day when we set out on a regular progress in the chariot with +post-horses. The britshka and pair, which were our +ambition, were to wait till my father’s next rents came +in. Morning calls in the country were a solemn and imposing +ceremony, and the head of the family had to be taken on the first +circuit; nor was there much scruple as to making them in the +forenoon, so several were to be disposed of before fulfilling an +engagement to luncheon at the farthest point, where some old +London friends had borrowed a house for the summer, and had +included me in their invitation.</p> +<p>Here alone did I leave the carriage, but I had Cooper’s +<i>Spy</i> and my sketch-book as companions while waiting at +doors where the inhabitants were at home. The last visit +was at Hillside Rectory, a house of architecture somewhat similar +to our own, but of the soft creamy stone which so well set off +the vine with purple clusters, the myrtles and fuchsias, that +covered it. I was wishing we had drawn up far enough off +for a sketch to be possible, when, from a window close above, I +heard the following words in a clear girlish voice—</p> +<p>‘No, indeed! I’m not going down. It is +only those horrid Earlscombe people. I can’t think +how they have the face to come near us!’</p> +<p>There was a reply, perhaps that the parents had made the first +visit, for the rejoinder was—‘Yes; grandpapa said it +was a Christian duty to make an advance; but they need not have +come so soon. Indeed, I wonder they show themselves at +all. I am sure I would not if I had such a dreadful +son.’ Presently, ‘I hate to think of it. +That I should have thanked him. Depend upon it, he will +never pay the doctor. A coward like that is capable of +anything.’</p> +<p>The proverb had been realised, but there could hardly have +been a more involuntary or helpless listener. Presently my +parents came back, escorted by both the gentlemen of the house, +tall fine-looking men, the elder with snowy hair, and the dignity +of men of the old school; the younger with a joyous, hearty, +out-of-door countenance, more like a squire than a clergyman.</p> +<p>The visit seemed to have been gratifying. Mrs. Fordyce +was declared to be of higher stamp than most of the neighbouring +ladies; and my father was much pleased with the two clergymen, +while as we drove along he kept on admiring the well-ordered +fields and fences, and contrasting the pretty cottages and trim +gardens with the dreary appearance of our own village. I +asked why Amos Bell’s home had been neglected, and was +answered with some annoyance, as I pointed down the lane, that it +was on our land, though in Hillside parish. ‘I am +glad to have such neighbours!’ observed my mother, and I +kept to myself the remarks I had heard, though I was still +tingling with the sting of them.</p> +<p>We heard no more of ‘they Fordys’ for some +time. The married pair went away to stay with friends, and +we only once met the old gentleman, when I was waiting in the +street at Wattlesea in the donkey chair, while my mother was +trying to match netting silk in the odd little shop that united +fancy work, toys, and tracts with the post office. Old Mr. +Fordyce met us as we drew up, handed her out with a grand +seigneur’s courtesy, and stood talking to me so +delightfully that I quite forgot it was from Christian duty.</p> +<p>My father corresponded with the old Rector about the state of +the parish, and at last went over to Bath for a personal +conference, but without much satisfaction. The Earlscombe +people were pronounced to be an ungrateful good-for-nothing set, +for whom it was of no use to do anything; and indeed my mother +made such discoveries in the cottages that she durst not let +Emily fulfil her cherished scheme of visiting them. The +only resemblance to the favourite heroines of religious tales +that could be permitted was assembling a tiny Sunday class in +Chapman’s lodge; and it must be confessed that her brothers +thought she made as much fuss about it as if there had been a +hundred scholars.</p> +<p>However, between remonstrances and offers of undertaking a +share of the expense, my father managed to get Mr. Mears’ +services dispensed with from the ensuing Lady Day, and that a +resident curate should be appointed, the choice of whom was to +rest with himself. It was then and there decided that +Martyn should be ‘brought up to the Church,’ as +people then used to term destination to Holy Orders. My +father said he should feel justified in building a good house +when he could afford it, if it was to be a provision for one of +his sons, and he also felt that as he had the charge of the +parish as patron, it was right and fitting to train one of his +sons up to take care of it. Nor did Martyn show any +distaste to the idea, as indeed there was less in it then than at +present to daunt the imagination of an honest, lively boy, not as +yet specially thoughtful or devout, but obedient, truthful, and +fairly reverent, and ready to grow as he was trained.</p> +<h2><a name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +89</span>CHAPTER XII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">MRS. SOPHIA’S FEUD.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘O’er all there hung the shadow of a +fear,<br /> + A sense of mystery the spirit daunted,<br /> +And said as plain as whisper in the ear,<br /> + The place is haunted.’—<span +class="smcap">Hood</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">We</span> had a houseful at +Christmas. The Rev. Charles Henderson, a Fellow of Trinity +College, Oxford, lately ordained a deacon, had been recommended +to us by our London vicar, and was willing not only to take +charge of the parish, but to direct my studies, and to prepare +Martyn for school. He came to us for the Christmas vacation +to reconnoitre and engage lodgings at a farmhouse. We liked +him very much—my mother being all the better satisfied +after he had shown her a miniature, and confided to her that the +original was waiting till a college living should come to him in +the distant future.</p> +<p>Admiral Griffith could not tear himself from his warm rooms +and his club, but our antiquarian friend, Mr. Stafford, came with +his wife, and revelled in the ceilings of the mullion room, where +he would much have liked to sleep, but that its accommodations +were only fit for a bachelor.</p> +<p>Our other visitor was Miss Selby, or rather Mrs. Sophia Selby, +as she designated herself, according to the becoming fashion of +elderly spinsters, which to my mind might be gracefully +resumed. It irked my father to think of the good +lady’s solitary Christmas at Bath, and he asked her to come +to us. She travelled half-way in a post-chaise, and then +was met by the carriage. A very nice old lady she was, with +a meek, delicate babyish face, which could not be spoilt by the +cap of the period, one of the most disfiguring articles of head +gear ever devised, though nobody thought so then. She was +full of kindness; indeed, if she had a fault it was the abundant +pity she lavished on me, and her determination to amuse me. +The weather was of the kind that only the healthy and hardy could +encounter, and when every one else was gone out, and I was just +settling in with a new book, or an old crabbed Latin document, +that Mr. Stafford had entrusted to me to copy out fairly and +translate, she would glide in with her worsted work on a +charitable mission to enliven poor Mr. Edward.</p> +<p>However, this was the means of my obtaining some curious +enlightenments. A dinner-party was in contemplation, and +she was dismayed at the choice of the fashionable London hour of +seven, and still more by finding that the Fordyces were to be +among the guests. She was too well-bred to manifest her +feelings to her hosts, but alone with me, she could not refrain +from expressing her astonishment to me, all the more when she +heard this was reciprocity for an invitation that it had not been +possible to accept. Her poor dear uncle would never hear of +intercourse with Hillside. On being asked why, she repeated +what Chapman had said, that he could not endure any one connected +with Mrs. Hannah More and her canting, humbugging set, as the +ungodly old man had chosen to call them, imbuing even this good +woman with evil prejudices against their noble work at +Cheddar.</p> +<p>‘Besides this, Fordyces and Winslows could never be +friends, since the Fordyces had taken on themselves to dispute +the will, and say it had been improperly obtained.’</p> +<p>‘What will?’</p> +<p>‘Mrs. Winslow’s—Margaret Fordyce that +was. She was the heiress, and had every right to dispose of +her property.’</p> +<p>‘But that was more than a hundred years ago!’</p> +<p>‘So it was, my dear; but though the law gave it to +us—to my uncle’s grandfather (or great-grandfather, +was it?)—those Fordyces never could rest content. +Why, one of them—a clergyman’s son too—shot +young Philip Winslow dead in a duel. They have always +grudged at us. Does your papa know it, my dear Mr. +Edward? He ought to be aware.’</p> +<p>‘I do not know,’ I said; ‘but he would +hardly care about what happened in the time of Queen +Anne.’</p> +<p>It was curious to see how the gentle little lady espoused the +family quarrel, which, after all, was none of hers.</p> +<p>‘Well, you are London people, and the other branch, and +may not feel as we do down here; but I shall always say that +Madam Winslow’s husband’s son had every right to come +before her cousin once removed.’</p> +<p>I asked if we were descended from her, for, having a turn for +heraldry and genealogy, I wanted to make out our family +tree. Mrs. Sophia was ready to hold up her hands at the +ignorance of the ‘other branch.’ This poor +heiress had lost all her children in their infancy, and +bequeathed the estate to her stepson, the Fordyce male heir +having been endowed by her father with the advowson of Hillside +and a handsome estate there, which Mrs. Selby thought ought to +have contented him, ‘but some people never know when they +have enough;’ and, on my observing that it might have been +a matter of justice, she waxed hotter, declaring that what the +Winslows felt so much was the accusation of violence against the +poor lady. She spoke as if it were a story of yesterday, +and added, ‘Indeed, they made the common people have all +sorts of superstitious fancies about the room where she +died—that old part of the house.’ Then she +added in a low mysterious voice, ‘I hear that your brother +Mr. Griffith Winslow could not sleep there;’ and when the +rats and the wind were mentioned—‘Yes, that was what +my poor dear uncle used to say. He always called it +nonsense; but we never had a servant who would sleep there. +You’ll not mention it, Mr. Edward, but I could not help +asking that very nice housemaid, Jane, whether the room was used, +and she said how Mr. Griffith had given it up, and none of the +servants could spend a night there when they are sleeping +round. Of course I said all in my power to dispel the idea, +and told her that there was no accounting for all the noises in +old houses; but you never can reason with that class of +people.’</p> +<p>‘Did you ever hear the noises, Mrs. Selby?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, no; I wouldn’t sleep there for +thousands! Not that I attach any importance to such +folly,—my poor dear uncle would never hear of such a thing; +but I am such a nervous creature, I should lie awake all night +expecting the rats to run over me. I never knew of any one +sleeping there, except in the gay times when I was a child, and +the house used to be as full as, or fuller than, it could hold, +for the hunt breakfast or a ball, and my poor aunt used to make +up ever so many beds in the two rooms, and then we never heard of +any disturbance, except what they made themselves.’</p> +<p>This chiefly concerned me, because home cosseting had made me +old woman enough to be uneasy about unaired beds; and I knew that +my mother meant to consign Clarence to the mullion chamber. +So, without betraying Jane, I spoke to her, and was answered, +‘Oh, sir, I’ll take care of that; I’ll light a +fire and air the mattresses well. I wish that was all, poor +young gentleman!’</p> +<p>To the reply that the rats were slaughtered and the wind +stopped out, Jane returned a look of compassion; but the subject +was dropped, as it was supposed to be the right thing to hush up, +instead of fostering, any popular superstition; but it surprised +me that, as all our servants were fresh importations, they should +so soon have become imbued with these undefined alarms.</p> +<p>My father was much amused at being successor to this family +feud, and said that when he had time he would look up the +documents.</p> +<p>Mrs. Sophia was a sight when Mr. Fordyce and his son and +daughter-in-law were announced; she was so comically stiff +between her deference to her hosts and her allegiance to her poor +dear uncle; but her coldness melted before the charms of old Mr. +Fordyce, who was one of the most delightful people in the +world. She even was his partner at whist, and won the game, +and that she <i>did</i> like.</p> +<p>Parson Frank, as we naughty young ones called him, was all +good-nature and geniality—a thorough clergyman after the +ideas of the time, and a thorough farmer too; and in each +capacity, as well as in politics, he suited my father or Mr. +Henderson. His lady, in a blonde cap, exactly like the last +equipment my mother had provided herself with in London, and a +black satin dress, had much more style than the more +gaily-dressed country dames, and far more conversation. Mr. +Stafford, who had dreaded the party, pronounced her a sensible, +agreeable woman, and she was particularly kind and pleasant to +me, coming and talking over the botany of the country, and then +speaking of my brother’s kindness to poor Amos Bell, who +was nearly recovered, but was a weakly child, for whom she +dreaded the toil of a ploughboy in thick clay with heavy +shoes.</p> +<p>I was sorry when, after Emily’s well-studied performance +on the piano, Mrs. Fordyce was summoned away from me to sing, but +her music and her voice were both of a very different order from +ordinary drawing-room music; and when our evening was over, we +congratulated ourselves upon our neighbours, and agreed that the +Fordyces were the gems of the party.</p> +<p>Only Mrs. Sophia sighed at us as degenerate Winslows, and +Emily reserved to herself the right of believing that the +daughter was ‘a horrid girl.’</p> +<h2><a name="page96"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +96</span>CHAPTER XIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A SCRAPE.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Though bound with weakness’ heavy +chain<br /> +We in the dust of earth remain;<br /> +Not all remorseful be our tears,<br /> +No agony of shame or fears,<br /> +Need pierce its passion’s bitter tide.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Verses and Sonnets</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Perhaps</span> it was of set purpose that +our dinner-party had been given before Clarence’s +return. Griffith had been expected in time for it, but he +had preferred going by way of London to attend a ball given by +the daughter of a barrister friend of my father’s. +Selina Clarkson was a fine showy girl, with the sort of beauty to +inspire boyish admiration, and Griff’s had been a standing +family joke, even my father condescending to tease him when the +young lady married Sir Henry Peacock, a fat vulgar old man who +had made his fortune in the commissariat, and purchased a +baronetcy. He was allowing his young wife her full swing of +fashion and enjoyment. My mother did not think it a +desirable acquaintance, and was restless until both the brothers +came home together, long after dark on Christmas Eve, having been +met by the gig at the corner where the coach stopped. The +dinner-hour had been put off till half-past six, and we had to +wait for them, the coach having been delayed by setting down +Christmas guests and Christmas fare. They were a contrast; +Griffith looking very handsome and manly, all in a ruddy glow +from the frosty air, and Clarence, though equally tall, +well-made, and with more refined features, looked pale and +effaced, now that his sailor tan was worn off. The one +talked as eagerly as he ate, the other was shy, spiritless, and +with little appetite; but as he always shrank into himself among +strangers, it was the less wonder that he sat in his drooping way +behind my sofa, while Griffith kept us all merry with his account +of the humours of the ‘Peacock at home;’ the +lumbering efforts of old Sir Henry to be as young and gay as his +wife, in spite of gout and portliness; and the extreme delight of +his lady in her new splendours—a gold spotted muslin and +white plumes in a diamond agraffe. He mimicked Sir +Henry’s cockneyisms more than my father’s chivalry +approved towards his recent host, as he described the complaints +he had heard against ‘my Lady being refused the hentry at +Halmack’s, but treated like the wery canal;’ and how +the devoted husband ‘wowed he would get up a still more +hexclusive circle, and shut hout these himpertinent fashionables +who regarded Halmack’s as the seventh +’eaven.’</p> +<p>My mother shook her head at his audacious fun about Paradise +and the Peri, but he was so brilliant and good-humoured that no +one was ever long displeased with him. At night he followed +when Clarence helped me to my room, and carefully shutting the +door, Griff began. ‘Now, Teddy, you’re always +as rich as a Jew, and I told Bill you’d help him to set it +straight. I’d do it myself, but that I’m +cleaned out. I’d give ten times the cash rather than +see him with that hang-dog look again for just nothing at all, if +he would only believe so and be rational.’</p> +<p>Clarence did look indescribably miserable while it was +explained that he had been commissioned to receive about +£20 which was owing to my father, and to discharge +therewith some small debts to London tradesmen. All except +the last, for a little more than four pounds, had been paid, when +Clarence met in the street an old messmate, a good-natured +rattle-pated youth,—one of those who had thought him +harshly treated. There was a cordial greeting, and an +invitation to dine at once at a hotel, where they were joined by +some other young men, and by and by betook themselves to cards, +when my poor brother’s besetting enemy prevented him from +withdrawing when he found the points were guineas. Thus he +lost the remaining amount in his charge, and so much of his own +that barely enough was left for his journey. His salary was +not due till Lady Day; Mr. Castleford was in the country, and no +advances could be asked from Mr. Frith. Thus Griff had +found him in utter despair, and had ever since been trying to +cheer him and make light of his trouble. If I advanced the +amount, which was no serious matter to me, Clarence could easily +get Peter to pay the bill, and if my father should demand the +receipt too soon, it would be easy to put him off by saying there +had been a delay in getting the account sent in.</p> +<p>‘I couldn’t do that,’ said Clarence.</p> +<p>‘Well, I should not have thought you would have stuck at +that,’ returned Griff.</p> +<p>‘There must be no untruth,’ I broke in; ‘but +if without <i>that</i>, he can avoid getting into a scrape with +papa—’</p> +<p>Clarence interrupted in the wavering voice we knew so well, +but growing clearer and stronger.</p> +<p>‘Thank you, Edward, but—but—no, I +can’t. There’s the Sacrament +to-morrow.’</p> +<p>‘Oh—h!’ said Griff, in an indescribable +tone. But he will never believe you, nor let you +go.’</p> +<p>‘Better so,’ said Clarence, half choked, +‘than go profanely—deceiving—or not knowing +whether I shall—’</p> +<p>Just then we heard our father wishing the other gentlemen +good-night, and to our surprise Clarence opened the door, though +he was deadly white and with dew starting on his forehead.</p> +<p>My father turned good-naturedly. ‘Boys, boys, you +are glad to be together, but mamma won’t have you talking +here all night, keeping her baby up.’</p> +<p>‘Sir,’ said Clarence, holding by the rail of the +bed, ‘I was waiting for you. I have something to tell +you—’</p> +<p>The words that followed were incoherent and wrong end +foremost; nor had many, indeed, been uttered before my father cut +them short with—</p> +<p>‘No false excuses, sir; I know you too well to +listen. Go. I have ceased to hope for anything +better.’</p> +<p>Clarence went without a word, but Griff and I burst out with +entreaties to be listened to. Our father thought at first +that ours were only the pleadings of partiality, and endeavours +to shield the brother we both so heartily loved; but when he +understood the circumstances, the real amount of the +transgression, and Clarence’s rejection of our united +advice and assistance to conceal it, he was greatly touched and +softened. ‘Poor lad! poor fellow!’ he muttered, +‘he is really doing his best. I need not have cut him +so short. I was afraid of more falsehoods if I let him open +his mouth. I’ll go and see.’</p> +<p>He went off, and we remained in suspense, Griff observing that +he had done his best, but poor Bill always would be a fool, and +that no one who had not always lived at home like me would have +let out that we had been for the suppression policy. As I +was rather shocked, he went off to bed, saying he should look in +to see what remained of Clarence after the pelting of the +pitiless storm he was sure to bring on himself by his ridiculous +faltering instead of speaking out like a man.</p> +<p>I longed to have been able to do the same, but my father +kindly came back to relieve my mind by telling me that he was +better satisfied about Clarence than ever he had been +before. When encouraged to speak out, the narrative of the +temptation had so entirely agreed with what we had said as to +show there had been no prevarication, and this had done more to +convince my father that he was on the right track than the having +found him on his knees. He had had a patient hearing, and +thus was able to command his nerves enough to explain himself, +and it had ended in my father giving entire forgiveness for what, +as Griff truly said, would have been a mere trifle but for the +past. The voluntary confession had much impressed my +father, and he could not help adding a word of gentle reproof to +me for having joined in aiding him to withhold it, but he +accepted my explanation and went away, observing, ‘By the +by, I don’t wonder at what Griffith says of that room; I +never heard such strange effects of currents of air.’</p> +<p>Clarence was in my room before I was drest, full of our +father’s ‘wonderful goodness’ to him. He +had never experienced anything like it, he said. +‘Why! he really seemed hopeful about me,’ were words +uttered with a gladness enough to go to one’s heart. +‘O Edward, I feel as if there was some chance of +“steadfastly purposing” this time.’</p> +<p>It was not the way of the family to say much of religious +feeling, and this was much for Clarence to utter. He looked +white and tired, but there was an air of rest and peace about +him, above all when my mother met him with a very real +kiss. Moreover, Mr. Castleford had taken care to brighten +our Christmas with a letter expressive of great satisfaction with +Clarence for steadiness and intelligence. Even Mr. Frith +allowed that he was the most punctual of all those young +dogs.</p> +<p>‘I do believe,’ said my father, ‘that his +piety is doing him some good after all.’</p> +<p>So our mutual wishes of a happy Christmas were verified, +though not much according to the notions of this half of the +century. People made their Christmas day either mere +merriment, or something little different from the grave Sunday of +that date. And ours, except for the Admiral’s dining +with us, had always been of the latter description, all the more +that when celebrations of the Holy Communion were so rare they +were treated with an awe and reverence which frequency has +perhaps diminished, and a feeling (possibly Puritanical) +prevailed which made it appear incongruous to end with festivity +a day so begun. That we had a Christmas Day Communion at +all at Earlscombe was an innovation only achieved by Mr. +Henderson going to assist the old Rector at Wattlesea; and there +were no communicants except from our house, besides Chapman, his +daughter-in-law, and five old creatures between whom the alms +were immediately divided. We afterwards learnt that our +best farmer and his wife were much disappointed at the change +from Sunday interfering with the family jollification; and Mrs. +Sophia Selby was annoyed at the contradiction to her habits under +the rule of her poor dear uncle.</p> +<p>Of the irregularities, irreverences, and squalor of the whole +I will not speak. They were not then such stumbling-blocks +as they would be now, and many passed unperceived by us, buried +as we were in our big pew, with our eyes riveted on our books; +yet even thus there was enough evident to make my mother rejoice +that Mr. Henderson would be with us before Easter. Still +this could not mar the thankful gladness that was with us all +that day, and which shone in Clarence’s eyes. His +countenance always had a remarkable expression in church, as if +somehow his spirit went farther than ours did, and things unseen +were more real to him.</p> +<p>Hillside, as usual, had two services, and my father and his +friend were going to walk thither in the afternoon, but it was a +raw cold day, threatening snow, and Emily was caught by my mother +in the hail and ordered back, as well as Clarence, who had shown +symptoms of having caught cold on his dismal journey. Emily +coaxed from her permission to have a fire in the bookroom, and +there we three had a memorably happy time. We read our +psalms and lessons, and our <i>Christian Year</i>, which was more +and more the lodestar of our feelings. We compared our +favourite passages, and discussed the obscurer ones, and Clarence +was led to talk out more of his heart than he had ever shown to +us before. Perhaps he had lost some of his reserve through +his intercourse with our good old governess, Miss Newton, who was +still grinding away at her daily mill, though with somewhat +failing eyesight, so that she could do nothing but knit in the +long evenings, and was most grateful to her former pupil for +coming, as often as he could, to talk or read to her.</p> +<p>She was a most excellent and devout woman, and when Emily, who +in youthful <i>gaieté de cœur</i> had got a little +tired of her, exclaimed at his taste, and asked if she made him +read nothing but Pike’s Early <i>Piety</i>, he replied +gravely, ‘She showed me where to lay my burthen +down,’ and turned to the two last verses of the poem for +‘Good Friday’ in the <i>Christian Year</i>, as well +as to the one we had just read on the Holy Communion.</p> +<p>My father’s kindness had seemed to him the pledge of the +Heavenly Father’s forgiveness; and he added, perhaps a +little childishly, that it had been his impulse to promise never +to touch a card again, but that he dreaded the only too familiar +reply, ‘What availed his promises?’</p> +<p>‘Do promise, Clarry!’ cried Emily, ‘and then +you won’t have to play with that tiresome old Mrs. +Sophia.’</p> +<p>‘That would rather deter me,’ said Clarence +good-humouredly.</p> +<p>‘A card-playing old age is despicable,’ pronounced +Miss Emily, much to our amusement.</p> +<p>After that we got into a bewilderment. We knew nothing +of the future question of temperance <i>versus</i> total +abstinence; but after it had been extracted that Miss Newton +regarded cards as the devil’s books, the inconsistent +little sister changed sides, and declared it narrow and +evangelical to renounce what was innocent. Clarence argued +that what might be harmless for others might be dangerous for +such as himself, and that his real difficulty in making even a +mental vow was that, if broken, there was an additional sin.</p> +<p>‘It is not oneself that one trusts,’ I said.</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Clarence emphatically; ‘and +setting up a vow seems as if it might be sticking up the reed of +one’s own word, and leaning on <i>that</i>—when it +breaks, at least mine does. If I could always get the grasp +of Him that I felt to-day, there would be no more bewildered +heart and failing spirit, which are worse than the actual falls +they cause.’ And as Emily said she did not +understand, he replied in words I wrote down and thought over, +‘What we <i>are</i> is the point, more than even what we +<i>do</i>. We <i>do</i> as we <i>are</i>; and yet we form +ourselves by what we <i>do</i>.’</p> +<p>‘And,’ I put in, ‘I know somebody who won a +victory last night over himself and his two brothers. +Surely <i>doing</i> that is a sign that he <i>is</i> more than he +used to be.’</p> +<p>‘If he were, it would not have been an effort at +all,’ said Clarence, but with his rare sweet smile.</p> +<p>Just then Griff called him away, and Emily sat pondering and +impressed. ‘It did seem so odd,’ she said, +‘that Clarry should be so much the best, and yet so much +the worst of us.’</p> +<p>I agreed. His insight into spiritual things, and his +enjoyment of them, always humiliated us both, yet he fell so much +lower in practice,—‘But then we had not his +temptations.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Emily; ‘but look at Griff! +He goes about like other young men, and keeps all right, and yet +he doesn’t care about religious things a bit more than he +can help.’</p> +<p>It was quite true. Religion was life to the one and an +insurance to the other, and this had been a mystery to us all our +young lives, as far as we had ever reflected on the contrast +between the practical failure and success of each. Our +mother, on the other hand, viewed Clarence’s tendencies as +part of an unreal, self-deceptive nature, and regretted his +intimacy with Miss Newton, who, she said, had fostered +‘that kind of thing’ in his childhood—made him +fancy talk, feeling, and preaching were more than truth and +honour—and might lead him to run after Irving, Rowland +Hill, or Baptist Noel, about whose tenets she was rather +confused. It would be an additional misfortune if he became +a fanatical Evangelical light, and he was just the character to +be worked upon.</p> +<p>My father held that she might be thankful for any good +influence or safe resort for a young man in lodgings in London, +and he merely bade Clarence never resort to any variety of +dissenting preacher. We were of the school called—a +little later—high and dry, but were strictly orthodox +according to our lights, and held it a prime duty to attend our +parish church, whatever it might be; nor, indeed, had Clarence +swerved from these traditions.</p> +<p>Poor Mrs. Sophia was baulked of the game at whist, which she +viewed as a legitimate part of the Christmas pleasures; and after +we had eaten our turkey, we found the evening long, except that +Martyn escaped to snapdragon with the servants; and, by and by, +Chapman, magnificent in patronage, ushered in the church singers +into the hall, and clarionet, bassoon, and fiddle astonished our +ears.</p> +<h2><a name="page107"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +107</span>CHAPTER XIV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE MULLION CHAMBER.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘A lady with a lamp I see,<br /> +Pass through the glimmering gloom,<br /> + And flit from room to room.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Longfellow</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">For</span> want of being able to take +exercise, the first part of the night had always been sleepless +with me, though my dear mother thought it wrong to recognise the +habit or allow me a lamp. A fire, however, I had, and by +its light, on the second night after Christmas, I saw my door +noiselessly opened, and Clarence creeping in half-dressed and +barefooted. To my frightened interrogation the answer came, +through chattering teeth, ‘It’s I—only +I—Ted—no—nothing’s the matter, only I +can’t stand it any longer!’</p> +<p>His hands were cold as ice when he grasped mine, as if to get +hold of something substantial, and he trembled so as to shake the +bed. ‘That room,’ he faltered. +‘’Tis not only the moans! I’ve seen +her!’</p> +<p>‘Whom?’</p> +<p>‘I don’t know. There she stands with her +lamp, crying!’ I could scarcely distinguish the words +through the clashing of his teeth, and as I threw my arms round +him the shudder seemed to pass to me; but I did my best to warm +him by drawing the clothes over him, and he began to gather +himself together, and speak intelligibly. There had been +sounds the first night as of wailing, but he had been too much +preoccupied to attend to them till, soon after one o’clock, +they ended in a heavy fall and long shriek, after which all was +still. Christmas night had been undisturbed, but on this +the voices had begun again at eleven, and had a strangely human +sound; but as it was windy, sleety weather, and he had learnt at +sea to disregard noises in the rigging, he drew the sheet over +his head and went to sleep. ‘I was dreaming that I +was at sea,’ he said, ‘as I always do on a noisy +night, but this was not a dream. I was wakened by a light +in the room, and there stood a woman with a lamp, moaning and +sobbing. My first notion was that one of the maids had come +to call me, and I sat up; but I could not speak, and she gave +another awful suppressed cry, and moved towards that walled-up +door. Then I saw it was none of the servants, for it was an +antique dress like an old picture. So I knew what it must +be, and an unbearable horror came over me, and I rushed into the +outer room, where there was a little fire left; but I heard her +going on still, and I could endure it no longer. I knew you +would be awake and would bear with me, so I came down to +you.’</p> +<p>Then this was what Chapman and the maids had meant. This +was Mrs. Sophia Selby’s vulgar superstition! I found +that Clarence had heard none of the mysterious whispers afloat, +and only knew that Griff had deserted the room after his own +return to London. I related what I had learnt from the old +lady, and in that midnight hour we agreed that it could be no +mere fancy or rumour, but that cruel wrong must have been done in +that chamber. Our feeling was that all ought to be made +known, and in that impression we fell asleep, Clarence first.</p> +<p>By and by I found him moving. He had heard the clock +strike four, and thought it wiser to repair to his own quarters, +where he believed the disturbance was over. Lucifer matches +as yet were not, but he had always been a noiseless being, with a +sailor’s foot, so that, by the help of the moonlight +through the hall windows, he regained his room.</p> +<p>And when morning had come, the nocturnal visitation wore such +a different aspect to both our minds that we decided to say +nothing to our parents, who, said Clarence, would simply +disbelieve him; and, indeed, I inclined to suppose it had been an +uncommonly vivid dream, produced in that sensitive nature by the +uncanny sounds of the wind in the chinks and crannies of the +ancient chamber. Had not Scott’s <i>Demonology and +Witchcraft</i>, which we studied hard on that day, proved all +such phantoms to be explicable? The only person we told was +Griff, who was amused and incredulous. He had heard the +noises—oh yes! and objected to having his sleep broken by +them. It was too had to expose Clarence to them—poor +Bill—on whom they worked such fancies!</p> +<p>He interrogated Chapman, however, but probably in that +bantering way which is apt to produce reserve. Chapman +never ‘gave heed to them fictious tales,’ he said; +but, when hard pressed, he allowed that he had ‘heerd that +a lady do walk o’ winter nights,’ and that was why +the garden door of the old rooms was walled up. Griff asked +if this was done for fear she should catch cold, and this +somewhat affronted him, so that he averred that he knew nought +about it, and gave no thought to such like.</p> +<p>Just then they arrived at the Winslow Arms, and took each a +glass of ale, when Griff, partly to tease Chapman, asked the +landlady—an old Chantry House servant—whether she had +ever met the ghost. She turned rather pale, which seemed to +have impressed him, and demanded if he had seen it. +‘It always walked at Christmas time—between then and +the New Year.’ She had once seen a light in the +garden by the ruin in winter-time, and once last spring it came +along the passage, but that was just before the old Squire was +took for death,—folks said that was always the way before +any of the family died—‘if you’ll excuse it, +sir.’ Oh no, she thought nothing of such things, but +she had heard tell that the noises were such at all times of the +year that no one could sleep in the rooms, but the light +wasn’t to be seen except at Christmas.</p> +<p>Griff with the philosophy of a university man, was certain +that all was explained by Clarence having imbibed the impression +of the place being haunted; and going to sleep nervous at the +noises, his brain had shaped a phantom in accordance. Let +Clarence declare as he might that the legends were new to him, +Griff only smiled to think how easily people forgot, and he +talked earnestly about catching ideas without conscious +information.</p> +<p>However, he volunteered to sit up that night to ascertain the +exact causes of the strange noises and convince Clarence that +they were nothing but the effects of draughts. The fire in +his gunroom was surreptitiously kept up to serve for the vigil, +which I ardently desired to share. It was an enterprise; it +would gratify my curiosity; and besides, though Griffith was +good-natured and forbearing in a general way towards Clarence, I +detected a spirit of mockery about him which might break out +unpleasantly when poor Clarry was convicted of one of his +unreasonable panics.</p> +<p>Both brothers were willing to gratify me, the only difficulty +being that the tap of my crutches would warn the entire household +of the expedition. However, they had—all unknown to +my mother—several times carried me about queen’s +cushion fashion, as, being always much of a size, they could do +most handily; and as both were now fine, strong, well-made youths +of twenty and nineteen, they had no doubt of easily and silently +conveying me up the shallow-stepped staircase when all was quiet +for the night.</p> +<p>Emily, with her sharp ears, guessed that something was in +hand, but we promised her that she should know all in time. +I believe Griff, being a little afraid of her quickness, led her +to suppose he was going to hold what he called a symposium in his +rooms, and to think it a mystery of college life not intended for +young ladies.</p> +<p>He really had prepared a sort of supper for us when, after my +father’s resounding turn of the key of the drawing-room +door, my brothers, in their stocking soles, bore me upstairs, the +fun of the achievement for the moment overpowering all sense of +eeriness. Griff said he could not receive me in his +apartment without doing honour to the occasion, and that Dutch +courage was requisite for us both; but I suspect it was more in +accordance with Oxford habits that he had provided a bottle of +sherry and another of ale, some brandy cherries, bread, cheese, +and biscuits, by what means I do not know, for my mother always +locked up the wine. He was disappointed that Clarence would +touch nothing, and declared that inanition was the preparation +for ghost-seeing or imagining. I drank his health in a +glass of sherry as I looked round at the curious old room, with +its panelled roof, the heraldic devices and badges of the Power +family, and the trophy of swords, dirks, daggers, and pistols, +chiefly relics of our naval grandfather, but reinforced by the +sword, helmet, and spurs of the county Yeomanry which Griff had +joined.</p> +<p>Griff proposed cards to drive away fancies, especially as the +sounds were beginning; but though we generally yielded to him we +<i>could</i> not give our attention to anything but these. +There was first a low moan. ‘No great harm in +that,’ said Griff; ‘it comes through that crack in +the wainscot where there is a sham window. Some putty will +put a stop to that.’</p> +<p>Then came a more decided wail and sob much nearer to us. +Griff hastily swallowed the ale in his tumbler, and, striking a +theatrical attitude, exclaimed, ‘Angels and ministers of +grace defend us!’</p> +<p>Clarence held up his hand in deprecation. The door into +his bedroom was open, and Griff, taking up one of the flat +candlesticks, pursued his researches, holding the flame to all +chinks or cracks in the wainscotting to detect draughts which +might cause the dreary sounds, which were much more like +suppressed weeping than any senseless gust of wind. Of +draughts there were many, and he tried holding his hand against +each crevice to endeavour to silence the wails; but these became +more human and more distressful. Presently Clarence +exclaimed, ‘There!’ and on his face there was a +whiteness and an expression which always recurs to me on reading +those words of Eliphaz the Temanite, ‘Then a spirit passed +before my face, and the hair of my flesh stood up.’ +Even Griff was awestruck as we cried, ‘Where? +what?’</p> +<p>‘Don’t you see her? There! By the +press—look!’</p> +<p>‘I see a patch of moonlight on the wall,’ said +Griff.</p> +<p>‘Moonlight—her lamp. Edward, don’t you +see her?’</p> +<p>I could see nothing but a spot of light on the wall. +Griff (plainly putting a force on himself) came back and gave him +a good-natured shake. ‘Dreaming again, old +Bill. Wake up and come to your senses.’</p> +<p>‘I am as much in my senses as you are,’ said +Clarence. ‘I see her as plainly as I see +you.’</p> +<p>Nor could any one doubt either the reality of the awe in his +voice and countenance, nor of the light—a kind of hazy +ball—nor of the choking sobs.</p> +<p>‘What is she like?’ I asked, holding his hand, +for, though infected by his dread, my fears were chiefly for the +effect on him; but he was much calmer and less horror-struck than +on the previous night, though still he shuddered as he answered +in a low voice, as if loth to describe a lady in her presence, +‘A dark cloak with the hood fallen back, a kind of lace +headdress loosely fastened, brown hair, thin white face, +eyes—oh, poor thing!—staring with fright, +dark—oh, how swollen the lids! all red below with +crying—black dress with white about it—a widow kind +of look—a glove on the arm with the lamp. Is she +beckoning—looking at us? Oh, you poor thing, if I +could tell what you mean!’</p> +<p>I felt the motion of his muscles in act to rise, and grasped +him. Griff held him with a strong hand, hoarsely crying, +‘Don’t!—don’t—don’t follow +the thing, whatever you do!’</p> +<p>Clarence hid his face. It was very awful and +strange. Once the thought of conjuring her to speak by the +Holy Name crossed me, but then I saw no figure; and with +incredulous Griffith standing by, it would have been like +playing, nor perhaps could I have spoken. How long this +lasted there is no knowing; but presently the light moved towards +the walled-up door and seemed to pass into it. Clarence +raised his head and said she was gone. We breathed +freely.</p> +<p>‘The farce is over,’ said Griff. ‘Mr. +Edward Winslow’s carriage stops the way!’</p> +<p>I was hoisted up, candle in hand, between the two, and had +nearly reached the stairs when there came up on the garden side a +sound as of tipsy revellers in the garden. ‘The +scoundrels! how can they have got in?’ cried Griff, looking +towards the window; but all the windows on that side had +peculiarly heavy shutters and bars, with only a tiny heart-shaped +aperture very high up, so they somewhat hurried their steps +downstairs, intending to rush out on the intruders from the back +door. But suddenly, in the middle of the staircase, we +heard a terrible heartrending woman’s shriek, making us all +start and have a general fall. My brothers managed to seat +me safely on a step without much damage to themselves, but the +candle fell and was extinguished, and we made too heavy a weight +to fall without real noise enough to bring the household together +before we could pick ourselves up in the dark.</p> +<p>We heard doors opening and hurried calls, and something about +pistols, impelling Griff to call out, ‘It’s nothing, +papa; but there are some drunken rascals in the +garden.’</p> +<p>A light had come by this time, and we were detected. +There was a general sally upon the enemy in the garden before any +one thought of me, except a ‘You here!’ when they +nearly fell over me. And there I was left sitting on the +stair, helpless without my crutches, till in a few minutes all +returned declaring there was nothing—no signs of anything; +and then as Clarence ran up to me with my crutches my father +demanded the meaning of my being there at that time of night.</p> +<p>‘Well, sir,’ said Griff, ‘it is only that we +have been sitting up to investigate the ghost.’</p> +<p>‘Ghost! Arrant stuff and nonsense! What +induced you to be dragging Edward about in this dangerous +way?’</p> +<p>‘I wished it,’ said I.</p> +<p>‘You are all mad together, I think. I won’t +have the house disturbed for this ridiculous folly. I shall +look into it to-morrow!’</p> +<h2><a name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +117</span>CHAPTER XV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">RATIONAL THEORIES.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘These are the +reasons, they are natural.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Julius Cæsar</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">If</span> anything could have made our +adventure more unpleasant to Mr. and Mrs. Winslow, it would have +been the presence of guests. However, inquiry was +suppressed at breakfast, in deference to the signs my mother made +to enjoin silence before the children, all unaware that Emily was +nearly frantic with suppressed curiosity, and Martyn knew more +about the popular version of the legend than any of us.</p> +<p>Clarence looked wan and heavy-eyed. His head was aching +from a bump against the edge of a step, and his cold was much +worse; no wonder, said my mother; but she was always softened by +any ailment, and feared that the phantoms were the effect of +coming illness. I have always thought that if Clarence +could have come home from his court-martial with a brain fever he +would have earned immediate forgiveness; but unluckily for him, +he was a very healthy person.</p> +<p>All three of us were summoned to the tribunal in the study, +where my father and my mother sat in judgment on what they termed +‘this preposterous business.’ In our morning +senses our impressions were much more vague than at midnight, and +we betrayed some confusion; but Griff and I had a strong instinct +of sheltering Clarence, and we stoutly declared the noises to be +beyond the capacities of wind, rats, or cats; that the light was +visible and inexplicable; and that though we had seen nothing +else, we could not doubt that Clarence did.</p> +<p>‘Thought he did,’ corrected my father.</p> +<p>‘Without discussing the word,’ said Griff, +‘I mean that the effect on his senses was the same as the +actual sight. You could not look at him without being +certain.’</p> +<p>‘Exactly so,’ returned my mother. ‘I +wish Dr. Fellowes were near.’</p> +<p>Indeed nothing saved Clarence from being consigned to medical +treatment but the distance from Bath or Bristol, and the +contradictory advice that had been received from our county +neighbours as to our family doctor. However, she formed her +theory that his nervous imaginings—whether involuntary or +acted, she hoped the former, and wished she could be +sure—had infected us; and, as she was really uneasy about +him, she would not let him sleep in the mullion room, but having +nowhere else to bestow him, she turned out the man-servant and +put him into the little room beyond mine, and she also forbade +any mention of the subject to him that day.</p> +<p>This was a sore prohibition to Emily, who had been discussing +it with the other ladies, and was in a mingled state of elation +at the romance, and terror at the supernatural, which found vent +in excited giggle, and moved Griff to cram her with raw-head and +bloody-bone horrors, conventional enough to be suspicious, and +send her to me tearfully to entreat to know the truth. If +by day she exulted in a haunted chamber, in the evening she paid +for it by terrors at walking about the house alone, and, when +sent on an errand by my mother, looked piteous enough to be +laughed at or scolded on all sides.</p> +<p>The gentlemen had more serious colloquies, and the upshot was +a determination to sit up together and discover the origin of the +annoyance. Mr. Stafford’s antiquarian researches had +made him familiar with such mysteries, and enough of them had +been explained by natural causes to convince him that there was a +key to all the rest. Owls, coiners, and smugglers had all +been convicted of simulating ghosts. In one venerable +mansion, behind the wainscot, there had been discovered nine +skeletons of cats in different stages of decay, having trapped +themselves at various intervals of time, and during the gradual +extinction of their eighty-one lives having emitted cries enough +to establish the ghastly reputation of the place. Perhaps +Mr. Henderson was inclined to believe there were more things in +heaven and earth than were dreamt of in even an antiquary’s +philosophy. He owned himself perplexed, but reserved his +opinion.</p> +<p>At breakfast Clarence was quite well, except for the remains +of his sore throat, and the two seniors were gruff and brief as +to their watch. They had heard odd noises, and should +discover the cause; the carpenter had already been sent for, and +they had seen a light which was certainly due to reflection or +refraction. Mr. Henderson committed himself to nothing but +that ‘it was very extraordinary;’ and there was a +wicked look of diversion on Griff’s face, and an exchange +of glances. Afterwards, in our own domain, we extracted a +good deal more from them.</p> +<p>Griff told us how the two elders started on politics, and +denounced Brougham and O’Connell loud enough to terrify any +save the most undaunted ghost, till Henderson said +‘Hush!’ and they paused at the moan with which the +performance always commenced, making Mr. Stafford turn, as Griff +said, ‘white in the gills,’ though he talked of the +wind on the stillest of frosty nights. Then came the +sobbing and wailing, which certainly overawed them all; Henderson +called them ‘agonising,’ but Griff was in a manner +inured to this, and felt as if master of the ceremonies. +Let them say what they would by daylight about owls, cats, and +rats, they owned the human element then, and were far from +comfortable, though they would not compromise their good sense by +owning what both their younger companions had +perceived—their feeling of some undefinable presence. +Vain attempts had been made to account for the light or get rid +of it by changing the position of candles or bright objects in +the outer room; and Henderson had shut himself into the bedroom +with it; but there he still only saw the hazy light—though +all was otherwise pitch dark, except the keyhole and the small +gray patch of sky at the top of the window-shutters. +‘You saw nothing else?’ said Griff. ‘I +thought I heard you break out as Clarence did, just before my +father opened the door.’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps I did so. I had the sense strongly on me +of some being in grievous distress very near me.’</p> +<p>‘And you should have power over it,’ suggested +Emily.</p> +<p>‘I am afraid,’ he said, ‘that more thorough +conviction and comprehension are needed before I could address +the thing with authority. I should like to have stayed +longer and heard the conclusion.’</p> +<p>For Mr. Stafford had grown impatient and weary, and my father +having satisfied himself that there was something to be detected, +would not remain to the end, and not only carried his companions +off, but locked the doors, perhaps expecting to imprison some +agent in a trick, and find him in the morning.</p> +<p>Indeed Clarence had a dim remembrance of having been half +wakened by some one looking in on him in the night, when he was +sleeping heavily after his cold and the previous night’s +disturbance, and we suspected, though we would not say, that our +father might have wished to ascertain that he had no share in +producing these appearances. He was, however, fully +acquitted of all wilful deception in the case, and he was not +surprised, though he was disappointed, that his vision of the +lady was supposed to be the consequence of excited +imagination.</p> +<p>‘I can’t help it,’ he said to me in +private. ‘I have always seen or felt, or whatever you +may call it, things that others do not. Don’t you +remember how nobody would believe that I saw Lucy +Brooke?’</p> +<p>‘That was in the beginning of the measles.’</p> +<p>‘I know; and I will tell you something curious. +When I was at Gibraltar I met Mrs. Emmott—’</p> +<p>‘Mary Brooke?’</p> +<p>‘Yes; I spent a very happy Sunday with her. We +talked over old times, and she told me that Lucy had all through +her illness been very uneasy about having promised to bring me a +macaw’s feather the next time we played in the Square +gardens. It could not be sent to me for fear of carrying +the infection, but the dear girl was too light-headed to +understand, and kept on fretting and wandering about breaking her +word. I have no doubt the wish carried her spirit to me the +moment it was free,’ he added, with tears springing to his +eyes. He also said that before the court-martial he had, +night after night, dreams of sinking and drowning in huge waves, +and his friend Coles struggling to come to his aid, but being +forcibly withheld; and he had since learnt that Coles had +actually endeavoured to come from Plymouth to bear testimony to +his previous character, but had been refused leave, and told that +he could do no good.</p> +<p>There had been other instances of perception of a presence and +of a prescient foreboding. ‘It is like a sixth +sense,’ he said, ‘and a very uncomfortable one. +I would give much to be rid of it, for it is connected with all +that is worst in my life. I had it before Navarino, when no +one expected an engagement. It made me believe I should be +killed, and drove me to what was much worse—or at least I +used to think so.’</p> +<p>‘Don’t you now?’ I asked.</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Clarence. ‘It was a great +mercy that I did not die then. There’s something to +conquer first. But you’ll never speak of this, +Ted. I have left off telling of such things—it only +gives another reason for disbelieving me.’</p> +<p>However, this time his veracity was not called in +question,—but he was supposed to be under a hallucination, +the creation of the noises acting on his imagination and memory +of the persecuted widow, which must have been somewhere dormant +in his mind, though he averred that he had never heard of +it. It had now, however, made a strong impression on him; +he was convinced that some crime or injustice had been +perpetrated, and thought it ought to be investigated; but +Griffith made us laugh at his championship of this shadow of a +shade, and even wrote some mock heroic verses about it,—nor +would it have been easy to stir my father to seek for the motives +of an apparition which no one in the family save Clarence +professed to have seen.</p> +<p>The noises were indisputable, but my mother began to suspect a +cause for them. To oblige a former cook we had brought down +with us as stable-boy her son, George Sims, an imp accustomed to +be the pet and jester of a mews. Martyn was only too fond +of his company, and he made no secret of his contempt for the +insufferable dulness of the country, enlivening it by various +acts of monkey-mischief, in some of which Martyn had been +implicated. That very afternoon, as Mrs. Sophia Selby was +walking home in the twilight from Chapman’s lodge, in +company with Mr. Henderson, an eldritch yell proceeding from the +vaults beneath the mullion chambers nearly frightened her into +fits. Henderson darted in and captured the two boys in the +fact. Martyn’s asseveration that he had taken the +pair for Griff and Emily would have pacified the good-natured +clergyman, but Mrs. Sophia was too much agitated, or too +spiteful, as we declared, not to make a scene.</p> +<p>Martyn spent the evening alone and in disgrace, and only his +unimpeachable character for truth caused the acceptance of his +affirmation that the yell was an impromptu fraternal compliment, +and that he had nothing to do with the noises in the mullion +chamber. He had been supposed to be perfectly unconscious +of anything of the kind, and to have never so much as heard of a +phantom, so my mother was taken somewhat aback when, in reply to +her demand whether he had ever been so naughty as to assist +George in making a noise in Clarence’s room, he said, +‘Why, that’s the ghost of the lady that was murdered +atop of the steps, and always walks every Christmas!’</p> +<p>‘Who told you such ridiculous nonsense?’</p> +<p>The answer ‘George’ was deemed conclusive that all +had been got up by that youth; and there was considerable +evidence of his talent for ventriloquism and taste for practical +jokes. My mother was certain that, having heard of the +popular superstition, he had acted ghost. She appealed to +<i>Woodstock</i> to prove the practicability of such feats; and +her absolute conviction persuaded the maids (who had given +warning <i>en masse</i>) that the enemy was exorcised when George +Sims had been sent off on the Royal Mail under Clarence’s +guardianship.</p> +<p>None of the junior part of the family believed him guilty, but +he had hunted the cows round the paddock, mounted on my donkey, +had nearly shot the kitchen-maid with Griff’s gun, and, if +not much maligned, knew the way to the apple-chamber only too +well,—so that he richly deserved his doom, rejoiced in it +himself, and was unregretted save by Martyn. Clarence +viewed him in the light of a victim, and tried to keep an eye on +him, but he developed his talent as a ventriloquist, made his +fortune, and retired on a public-house.</p> +<p>My mother would fain have had the vaults under the mullion +rooms bricked up, but Mr. Stafford cried out on the barbarism of +such a proceeding. The mystery was declared to be solved, +and was added to Mr. Stafford’s good stories of haunted +houses.</p> +<p>And at home my father forbade any further mention of such rank +folly and deception. The inner mullion chamber was turned +into a lumber-room, and as weeks passed by without hearing or +seeing any more of lady or of lamp, we began to credit the +wonderful freaks of the goblin page.</p> +<h2><a name="page126"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +126</span>CHAPTER XVI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">CAT LANGUAGE.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>Soon as she parted thence—the fearful +twayne,<br /> +That blind old woman and her daughter deare,<br /> +Came forth, and finding Kirkrapine there slayne,<br /> +For anguish greate they gan to rend their heare<br /> +And beate their breasts, and naked flesh to teare;<br /> +And when they both had wept and wayled their fill,<br /> +Then forth they ran, like two amazèd deere,<br /> +Half mad through malice and revenging will,<br /> +To follow her that was the causer of their +ill.’—<span class="smcap">Spenser</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Christmas vacation was not +without another breeze about Griffith’s expenses at +Oxford. He held his head high, and declared that people +expected something from the eldest son of a man of property, and +my father tried to convince him that a landed estate often left +less cash available than did the fixed salary of an office. +Griff treated all in his light, good-humoured way, promised to be +careful, and came to me to commiserate the poor old +gentleman’s ignorance of the ways of the new +generation.</p> +<p>There ensued some trying weeks of dark days, raw frost, and +black east wind, when the home party cast longing, lingering +recollections back to the social intercourse, lamp-lit streets, +and ready interchange of books and other amenities we had left +behind us. We were not accustomed to have our nearest +neighbours separated from us by two miles of dirty lane, or road +mended with excruciating stones, nor were they very congenial +when we did see them. The Fordyce family might be +interesting, but we younger ones could not forget the slight to +Clarence, and, besides, the girls seemed to be entirely in the +schoolroom, Mrs. Fordyce was delicate and was shut up all the +winter, and the only intercourse that took place was when my +father met the elder Mr. Fordyce at the magistrates’ bench; +also there was a conference about Amos Bell, who was preferred to +the post left vacant by George Sims, in right of his being our +tenant, but more civilised than Earlscombers, a widow’s +son, and not sufficiently recovered from his accident to be +exposed to the severe tasks of a ploughboy in the winter.</p> +<p>Mrs. Fordyce was the manager of a book-club, which circulated +volumes covered in white cartridge paper, with a printed list of +the subscribers’ names. Two volumes at a time might +be kept for a month by each member in rotation, novels were +excluded, and the manager had a veto on all orders. We +found her more liberal than some of our other neighbours, who +looked on our wants and wishes with suspicion as savouring of +London notions. Happily we could read old books and +standard books over again, and we gloated over <i>Blackwood</i> +and the <i>Quarterly</i>, enjoying, too, every out-of-door +novelty of the coming spring, as each revealed itself. +Emily will never forget her first primroses, nor I the first +thrush in early morning.</p> +<p>Blankets, broth, and what were uncomfortably termed broken +victuals had been given away during the winter, and a bewildering +amount of begging women and children used to ask interviews with +‘the Lady Winslow,’ with stories that crumbled on +investigation so as to make us recollect the Rector’s +character of Earlscombe.</p> +<p>However, Mr. Henderson came in the second week of Lent, and +what our steps towards improvement introduced would have seemed +almost as shocking to you youngsters, as what they +displaced. For instance, a plain crimson cloth covered the +altar, instead of the rags in the colours of the Winslow livery, +presented, according to the queer old register, by the +unfortunate Margaret. There was talk of velvet and the gold +monogram, surrounded by rays, alternately straight and wavy, as +in our London church, but this was voted ‘unfit for a plain +village church.’ Still, the new hangings of pulpit, +desk, and altar were all good in quality and colour, and huge +square cushions were provided as essential to each. +Moreover, the altar vessels were made somewhat more +respectable,—all this being at my father’s +expense.</p> +<p>He also carried in the Vestry, though not without strong +opposition from a dissenting farmer, that new linen and a fresh +surplice should be provided by the parish, which surplice would +have made at least six of such as are at present worn. The +farmers were very jealous of the interference of the Squire in +the Vestry—‘what he had no call to,’ and of +church rates applied to any other object than the reward of +birdslayers, as thus, in the register—</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p>Hairy Wills, 1 score sprows heds</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">2d.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Jems Brown, 1 poulcat</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">6d.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Jarge Bell, 2 howls</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">6d.</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>It was several years before this appropriation of the church +rates could be abolished. The year 1830, with a brand new +squire and parson, was too ticklish a time for many +innovations.</p> +<p>Hillside Church was the only one in the neighbourhood where +Holy Week or Ascension Day had been observed in the memory of +man. When we proposed going to church on the latter day the +gardener asked my mother ‘if it was her will to keep +Thursday holy,’ as if he expected its substitution for +Sunday. Monthly Communions and Baptisms after the Second +Lesson were viewed as ‘not fit for a country church,’ +and every attempt at even more secular improvements was treated +with the most disappointing distrust and aversion. When my +father laid out the allotment grounds, the labourers suspected +some occult design for his own profit, and the farmers objected +that the gardens would be used as an excuse for neglecting their +work and stealing their potatoes. Coal-club and +clothing-club were regarded in like manner, and while a few took +advantage of these offers in a grudging manner, the others viewed +everything except absolute gifts as ‘me-an’ on our +part, the principle of aid to self-help being an absolute +novelty. When I look back to the notes in our journals of +that date I see how much has been overcome.</p> +<p>Perhaps we listened more than was strictly wise to the +revelations of Amos Bell, when he attended Emily and me on our +expeditions with the donkey. Though living over the border +of Hillside, he had a family of relations at Earlscombe, and for +a time lodged with his grandmother there. When his shyness +and lumpishness gave way, he proved so bright that Emily +undertook to carry on his education. He soon had a +wonderful eye for a wild flower, and would climb after it with +the utmost agility; and when once his tongue was loosed, he +became almost too communicative, and made us acquainted with the +opinions of ‘they Earlscoom folk’ with a freedom not +to be found in an elder or a native.</p> +<p>Moreover, he was the brightest light of the Sunday school +which Mr. Henderson opened at once—for want of a more +fitting place—in the disused north transept of the +church. It was an uncouth, ill-clad crew which assembled on +those dilapidated paving tiles. Their own grandchildren +look almost as far removed from them in dress and civilisation as +did my sister in her white worked cambric dress, silk scarf, huge +Tuscan bonnet, and the little curls beyond the lace quilling +round her bright face, far rosier than ever it had been in +town. And what would the present generation say to the odd +little contrivances in the way of cotton sun-bonnets, check +pinafores, list tippets, and print capes, and other wonderful +manufactures from the rag-bag, which were then grand prizes and +stimulants?</p> +<p>Previous knowledge or intelligence scarcely existed, and then +was not due to Dame Dearlove’s tuition. Mr. Henderson +pronounced an authorised school a necessity. My father had +scruples as to vested rights, for the old woman was the last +survivor of a family who had had recourse to primer and hornbook +after their ejection on ‘black Bartholomew’s +Day;’ and when the meeting-house was built after the +Revolution, had combined preaching with teaching. Monopoly +had promoted degeneracy, and this last of the race was an +unfavourable specimen in all save outward picturesqueness. +However, much against Henderson’s liking, an accommodation +was proposed, by which books were to be supplied to her, and the +Church Catechism be taught in her school, with the assistance of +the curate and Miss Winslow.</p> +<p>The terms were rejected with scorn. No School Board +could be more determined against the Catechism, nor against +‘passons meddling wi’ she;’ and as to +assistance, ‘she had been a governess this thirty year, and +didn’t want no one trapesing in and out of her +school.’</p> +<p>She was warned, but probably did not believe in the +possibility of an opposition school; and really there were +children enough in the place to overfill both her room and that +which was fitted up after a very humble fashion in one of our +cottages. H.M. Inspector would hardly have thought it even +worth condemnation any more than the attainments of the mistress, +the young widow of a small Bristol skipper. Her +qualifications consisted in her piety and conscientiousness, good +temper and excellent needlework, together with her having been a +scholar in one of Mrs. Hannah More’s schools in the Cheddar +district. She could read and teach reading well; but as for +the dangerous accomplishments of writing and arithmetic, such as +desired to pass beyond the rudiments of them must go to +Wattlesea.</p> +<p>So nice did she look in her black that Earlscombe voted her a +mere town lady, and even at a penny a week hesitated to send its +children to her. Indeed it was currently reported that her +school was part of a deep and nefarious scheme of the gentlefolks +for reducing the poor-rates by enticing the children, and then +shipping them off to foreign parts from Bristol.</p> +<p>But the great crisis was one unlucky summer evening when Emily +and I were out with the donkey, and Griffith, just come home from +Oxford, was airing the new acquisition of a handsome black +retriever.</p> +<p>Close by the old chapel, a black cat was leisurely crossing +the road. At her dashed Nero, stimulated perhaps by an +almost involuntary scss—scss—from his master, if not +from Amos and me. The cat flew up a low wall, and stood at +bay on the top on tiptoe, with bristling tail, arched back, and +fiery eyes, while the dog danced round in agony on his hind legs, +barking furiously, and almost reaching her. Female sympathy +ever goes to the cat, and Emily screamed out in the fear that he +would seize her, or even that Griff might aid him. Perhaps +Amos would have done so, if left to himself; but Griff, who saw +the cat was safe, could not help egging on his dog’s +impotent rage, when in the midst, out flew pussy’s +mistress, Dame Dearlove herself, broomstick in hand, using +language as vituperative as the cat’s, and more +intelligible.</p> +<p>She was about to strike the dog—indeed I fancy she did, +for there was a howl, and Griff sprang to his defence +with—‘Don’t hurt my dog, I say! He +hasn’t touched the brute! She can take care of +herself. Here, there’s half-a-crown for the +fright,’ as the cat sprang down within the wall, and Nero +slunk behind him. But Dame Dearlove was not so easily +appeased. Her blood was up after our long series of +offences, and she broke into a regular tirade of abuse.</p> +<p>‘That’s the way with you fine folk, thinking you +can tread down poor people like the dirt under your feet, and +insult ’em when you’ve taken the bread out of the +mouths of them that were here before you. Passons and +ladies a meddin’ where no one ever set a foot before! +Ay, ay, but ye’ll all be down before long.’</p> +<p>Griff signed to us to go on, and thundered out on her to take +care what she was about and not be abusive; but this brought a +fresh volley on him, heralded by a derisive laugh. +‘Ha! ha! fine talking for the likes of you, Winslows that +you are. But there’s a curse on you all! The +poor lady as was murdered won’t let you be! Why, +there’s one of you, poor humpy object—’</p> +<p>At this savage attack on me, Griff waxed furious, and shouted +at her to hold her confounded tongue, but this only diverted the +attack on himself. ‘And as for you—fine chap as +ye think yourself, swaggering and swearing at poor folk, and +setting your dog at them—your time’s coming. +Look out for yourself. It’s well known as how the +curse is on the first-born. The Lady Margaret don’t +let none of ’em live to come after his father.’</p> +<p>Griff laughed and said, ‘There, we have had enough of +this;’ and in fact we had already moved on, so that he had +to make some long steps to overtake us, muttering, ‘So +we’ve started a Meg Merrilies! My father won’t +keep such a foul-mouthed hag in the parish long!’</p> +<p>To which I had to respond that her cottage belonged to the +trustees of the chapel, whereat he whistled. I don’t +think he knew that we had heard her final denunciation, and we +did not like to mention it to him, scarcely to each other, though +Emily looked very white and scared.</p> +<p>We talked it over afterwards in private, and with Henderson, +who confessed that he had heard of the old woman’s saying +something of the kind to other persons. We consulted the +registers in hopes of confuting it, but did not satisfy +ourselves. The last Squire had lost his only son at +school. He himself had been originally second in the +family, and in the generation before him there had been some +child-deaths, after which we came back to a young man, apparently +the eldest, who, according to Miss Selby’s story, had been +killed in a duel by one of the Fordyces. It was not +comfortable, till I remembered that our family Bible recorded the +birth, baptism, and death of a son who had preceded Griffith, and +only borne for a day the name afterwards bestowed on me.</p> +<p>And Henderson, who was so little our elder as to discuss +things on fairly equal grounds, had some very interesting talks +with us two over ancestral sin and its possible effects, dwelling +on the 18th of Ezekiel as a comment on the Second +Commandment. Indeed, we agreed that the uncomfortable state +of disaffection which, in 1830, was becoming only too manifest in +the populace, was the result of neglect in former ages, and that, +even in our own parish, the bitterness, distrust, and ingratitude +were due to the careless, riotous, and oppressive family whom we +represented.</p> +<h2><a name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +136</span>CHAPTER XVII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE SIEGE OF HILLSIDE.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Ferments arise, imprisoned factions +roar,<br /> +Represt ambition struggles round the shore;<br /> +Till, overwrought, the general system feels<br /> +Its motion stop, or frenzy fire the wheels.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Goldsmith</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Griffith</span> had come straight home +this year. There were no Peacock gaieties to tempt him in +London, for old Sir Henry had died suddenly soon after the ball +in December; nor was there much of a season that year, owing to +the illness and death of George IV.</p> +<p>A regiment containing two old schoolmates of his was at +Bristol, and he spent a good deal of time there, and also in +Yeomanry drill. As autumn came on we rejoiced in having so +stalwart a protector, for the agricultural riots had begun, and +the forebodings of another French Revolution seemed about to be +realised. We stayed on at Chantry House. My father +thought his duty lay there as a magistrate, and my mother would +not leave him; nor indeed was any other place much safer, +certainly not London, whence Clarence wrote accounts of +formidable mobs who were expected to do more harm than they +accomplished; though their hatred of the hero of our country +filled us with direful prognostications, and made us think of the +guillotine, which was linked with revolution in our minds, before +we had I beheld the numerous changes that followed upon the +thirty years of peace in which we grew up.</p> +<p>The ladies did not much like losing so stalwart a defender +when Griff returned to Oxford; and Jane the housemaid went to bed +every night with the pepper-pot and a poker, the first wherewith +to blind the enemy, the second to charge them with. From +our height we could more than once see blazing ricks, and were +glad that the home farm was not in our own hands, and that our +only stack of hay was a good way from the house. When the +onset came at last, it was December, and the enemy only consisted +of about thirty dreary-looking men and boys in smock-frocks and +chalked or smutted faces, armed only with sticks and an old gun +diverted from its purpose of bird-scaring. They shouted for +food, money, and arms; but my father spoke to them from the hall +steps, told them they had better go home and learn that the +public-house was a worse enemy to them than any machine that had +ever been invented, and assured them that they would get no help +from him in breaking the laws and getting themselves into +trouble. A stone or two was picked up, whereupon he went +back and had the hall door shut and barred, the heavy shutters of +the windows having all been closed already, so that we could have +stood a much more severe siege than from these poor +fellows. One or two windows were broken, as well as the +glass of the conservatory, and the flower beds were trampled; but +finding our fortress impregnable they sneaked away before +dark. We fared better than our neighbours, some of whom +were seriously frightened, and suffered loss of property. +Old Mr. Fordyce had for many years past been an active +magistrate—that a clergyman should be on the bench having +been quite correct according to the notions of his younger days; +and in spite of his beneficence he incurred a good deal of +unpopularity for withstanding the lax good-nature which made his +brother magistrates give orders for parish relief refused to +able-bodied paupers by their own Vestries. This was a +mischievous abuse of the old poor-law times, which made people +dispose of every one’s money save their own. He had +also been a keen sportsman; and though his son had given up field +sports in deference to higher notions of clerical duty (his +wife’s, as people said), the old man’s feeling +prompted him to severity on poachers. Frank Fordyce, while +by far the most earnest, hardworking clergyman in the +neighbourhood, worked off his superfluous energy on scientific +farming, making the glebe and the hereditary estate as much the +model farm as Hillside was the model parish. He had lately +set up a threshing-machine worked by horses, which was as much +admired by the intelligent as it was vituperated by the +ignorant.</p> +<p>Neither paupers nor poachers abounded in Hillside; the natives +were chiefly tenants and employed on the property, and, between +good management and beneficence, there was little real want and +much friendly confidence and affection; and thus, in spite of +surrounding riots, Hillside seemed likely to be an exception, +proving what could he done by rightful care and attention. +Nor indeed did the attack come from thence; but the two parsons +were bitterly hated by outsiders beyond the reach of their +personal influence and benevolence.</p> +<p>It was on a Saturday evening, the day after Griff had come +back for the Christmas vacation, that, as Emily was giving Amos +his lesson, she saw that the boy was crying, and after +examination he let out that ‘folk should say that the lads +were agoing to break Parson Fordy’s machine and fire his +ricks that very night;’ but he would not give his +authority, and when he saw her about to give warning, entreated, +‘Now, dont’ze say nothing, Miss +Emily—’</p> +<p>‘What?’ she cried indignantly; ‘do you think +I could hear of such a thing without trying to stop +it?’</p> +<p>‘Us says,’ he blurted out, ‘as how Winslows +be always fain of ought as happens to the +Fordys—’</p> +<p>‘We are not such wicked Winslows as you have heard +of,’ returned Emily with dignity; and she rushed off in +quest of papa and Griff, but when she brought them to the +bookroom, Amos had decamped, and was nowhere to be found that +night. We afterwards learnt that he lay hidden in the +hay-loft, not daring to return to his granny’s, lest he +should be suspected of being a traitor to his kind; for our +lawless, untamed, discontented parish furnished a large quota to +the rioters, and he has since told me that though all seemed to +know what was about to be done, he did not hear it from any one +in particular.</p> +<p>It was no time to make light of a warning, but very difficult +to know what to do. Rural police were non-existent; there +were no soldiers nearer than Keynsham, and the Yeomanry were all +in their own homesteads. However, the captain of +Griff’s troop, Sir George Eastwood, lived about three miles +beyond Wattlesea, and had a good many dependants in the corps, so +it was resolved to send him a note by the gardener, good James +Ellis, a steady, resolute man, on Emily’s fast-trotting +pony, while my father and Griff should hasten to Hillside to warn +the Fordyces, who were not unlikely to be able to muster +trustworthy defenders among their own people, and might send the +ladies to take shelter at Chantry House.</p> +<p>My mother’s brave spirit disdained to detain an +effective man for her own protection, and the groom was to go to +Hillside; he was in the Yeomanry, and, like Griff, put on his +uniform, while my father had the Riot Act in his pocket. +All the horses were thus absorbed, but Chapman and the +man-servant followed on foot.</p> +<p>Never did I feel my incapacity more than on that strange +night, when Emily was flying about with Martyn to all the doors +and windows in a wild state of excitement, humming to +herself—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘When the dawn on the mountain was misty and +gray,<br /> +My true love has mounted his steed and away.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>My mother was equally restless, prolonging as much as possible +the preparation of rooms for possible guests; and when she did +come and sit down, she netted her purse with vehement jerks, and +scolded Emily for jumping up and leaving doors open.</p> +<p>At last, after an hour according to the clock, but far more by +our feelings, wheels were heard in the distance; Emily was off +like a shot to reconnoitre, and presently Martyn bounced in with +the tidings that a pair of carriage lamps were coming up the +drive. My mother hurried out into the hall; I made my best +speed after her, and found her hastily undoing the door-chain as +she recognised the measured, courteous voice of old Mr. +Fordyce. In a moment more they were all in the house, the +old gentleman giving his arm to his daughter-in-law, who was +quite overcome with distress and alarm; then came his tall, slim +granddaughter, carrying her little sister with arms full of +dolls, and sundry maid-servants completed the party of +fugitives.</p> +<p>‘We are taking advantage of Mr. Winslow’s +goodness,’ said the old Rector. ‘He assured us +that you would be kind enough to receive those who would only be +an encumbrance.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, but I must go back to Frank now that you and the +children are safe,’ cried the poor lady. +‘Don’t send away the carriage; I must go back to +Frank.’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense, my dear,’ returned Mr. Fordyce, +‘Frank is in no danger. He will get on much better +for knowing you are safe. Mrs. Winslow will tell you +so.’</p> +<p>My mother was enforcing this assurance, when the little +girl’s sobs burst out in spite of her sister, who had been +trying to console her. ‘It is Celestina Mary,’ +she cried, pointing to three dolls whom she had carried in +clasped to her breast. ‘Poor Celestina Mary! +She is left behind, and Ellen won’t let me go and see if +she is in the carriage.’</p> +<p>‘My dear, if she is in the carriage, she will be quite +safe in the morning.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, but she will be so cold. She had nothing on +but Rosella’s old petticoat.’</p> +<p>The distress was so real that I had my hand on the bell to +cause a search to be instituted for the missing damsel, when Mrs. +Fordyce begged me to do no such thing, as it was only a +doll. The child, while endeavouring to shelter with a shawl +the dolls, snatched in their night-gear from their beds, wept so +piteously at the rebuff that her grandfather had nearly gone in +quest of the lost one, but was stopped by a special entreaty that +he would not spoil the child. Martyn, however, who had been +standing in open-mouthed wonder at such feeling for a doll, +exclaimed, ‘Don’t cry, don’t cry. +I’ll go and get it for you;’ and rushed off to the +stable-yard.</p> +<p>This episode had restored Mrs. Fordyce, and while providing +some of our guests with wine, and others with tea, we heard the +story, only interrupted by Martyn’s return from a vain +search, and Anne’s consequent tears, which, however, were +somehow hushed and smothered by fears of being sent to bed, +coupled with his promises to search every step of the way +to-morrow.</p> +<p>It appeared that while the Fordyce family were at dinner, +shouts, howls and yells had startled them. The rabble had +surrounded the Rectory, bawling out abuse of the parsons and +their machines, and occasionally throwing stones. There was +no help to be expected; the only hope was in the strength of the +doors and windows, and the knowledge that personal violence was +very uncommon; but those were terrible moments, and poor Mrs. +Fordyce was nearly dead with suppressed terror when her husband +tried haranguing from an upper window, and was received with +execrations and a volley of stones, while the glass crashed round +him.</p> +<p>At that instant the shouts turned to yells of dismay, +‘The so’diers! the so’diers!’</p> +<p>Our party had found everything still and dark in the village, +for in truth the men had hidden themselves. They were being +too much attached to their masters to join in the attack, but +were afraid of being compelled to assist the rioters, and not +resolute enough against their own class either to inform against +them or oppose them.</p> +<p>Through the midnight-like stillness of the street rose the +tumult around the Rectory; and by the light of a few lanterns, +and from the upper windows, they could see a mass of old hats, +smock-frocked shoulders, and the tops of bludgeons; while at +soonest, Sir George Eastwood’s troop could not be expected +for an hour or more.</p> +<p>‘We must get to them somehow,’ said my father and +Griff to one another; and Griff added, ‘These rascals are +arrant cowards, and they can’t see the number of +us.’</p> +<p>Then, before my father knew what he was about—certainly +before he could get hold of the Riot Act—he found the +stable lantern made over to him, and Griff’s sword flashing +in light, as, making all possible clatter and jingling with their +accoutrements, the two yeomen dashed among the throng, shouting +with all their might, and striking with the flat of their +swords. The rioters, ill-fed, dull-hearted men for the most +part—many dragged out by compulsion, and already +terrified—went tumbling over one another and running off +headlong, bearing off with them (as we afterwards learnt) their +leaders by their weight, taking the blows and pushes they gave +one another in their pell-mell rush for those of the soldiery, +and falling blindly against the low wall of the enclosure. +The only difficulty was in clearing them out at the two gates of +the drive.</p> +<p>When Mr. Fordyce opened the door to hail his rescuers he was +utterly amazed to behold only three, and asked in a bewildered +voice, ‘Where are the others?’</p> +<p>There were two prisoners, Petty the ratcatcher, who had +attempted some resistance and had been knocked down by +Griff’s horse, and a young lad in a smock-frock who had +fallen off the wall and hurt his knee, and who blubbered +piteously, declaring that them chaps had forced him to go with +them, or they would duck him in the horse-pond. They were +supposed to be given in charge to some one, but were lost sight +of, and no wonder! For just then it was discovered that the +machine shed was on fire. The rioters had apparently +detached one of their number to kindle the flame before +assaulting the house. The matter was specially serious, +because the stackyard was on a line with the Rectory, at some +distance indeed, but on lower ground; and what with barns, hay +and wheat ricks, sheds, cowhouses and stables, all thatched, a +big wood-pile, and a long old-fashioned greenhouse, there was +almost continuous communication. Clouds of smoke and an +ominous smell were already perceptible on the wind, generated by +the heat, and the loose straw in the centre of the farmyard was +beginning to be ignited by the flakes and sparks, carrying the +mischief everywhere, and rendering it exceedingly difficult to +release the animals and drive them to a place of safety. +Water was scarce. There were only two wells, besides the +pump in the house, and a shallow pond. The brook was a +quarter of a mile off in the valley, and the nearest engine, a +poor feeble thing, at Wattlesea. Moreover, the assailants +might discover how small was the force of rescuers, and return to +the attack. Thus, while Griff, who had given amateur +assistance at all the fires he could reach in London; was +striving to organise resistance to this new enemy, my father +induced the gentlemen to cause the horses to be put to the +various vehicles, and employ them in carrying the women and +children to Chantry House. The old Rector was persuaded to +go to take care of his daughter-in-law, and she only thought of +putting her girls in safety. She listened to reason, and +indeed was too much exhausted to move when once she was laid on +the sofa. She would not hear of going to bed, though her +little daughter Anne was sent off with her nurse, grandpapa +persuading her that Rosella and the others were very much +tired. When she was gone, he declared his fears that he had +sat down on Celestina’s head, and showed so much +compunction that we were much amused at his relief when Martyn +assured him of having searched the carriage with a stable +lantern, so that whatever had befallen the lady he was not the +guilty person. He really seemed more concerned about this +than at the loss of all his own barns and stores. And +little Anne was certainly as lovely and engaging a little +creature as ever I saw; while, as to her elder sister, in all the +trouble and anxiety of the night, I could not help enjoying the +sight of her beautiful eager face and form. She was tall +and very slight, sylph-like, as it was the fashion to call it, +but every limb was instinct with grace and animation. Her +face was, perhaps, rather too thin for robust health, though this +enhanced the idea of her being all spirit, as also did the +transparency of complexion, tinted with an exquisite varying +carnation. Her eyes were of a clear, bright, rather light +brown, and were sparkling with the lustre of excitement, her +delicate lips parted, showing the pretty pearly teeth, as she was +telling Emily, in a low voice of enthusiasm, scarcely designed +for my ears, how glorious a sight our brother had been, riding +there in his glancing silver, bearing down all before him with +his good sword, like the Captal de Buch dispersing the +Jacquerie.</p> +<p>To which Emily responded, ‘Oh, don’t you love the +Captal de Buch?’ And their friendship was +cemented.</p> +<p>Next I heard, ‘And that you should have been so good +after all my rudeness. But I thought you were like the old +Winslows; and instead of that you have come to the rescue of your +enemies. Isn’t it beautiful?’</p> +<p>‘Oh no, not enemies,’ said Emily. +‘That was all over a hundred years ago!’</p> +<p>‘So my papa and grandpapa say,’ returned Miss +Fordyce; ‘but the last Mr. Winslow was not a very nice man, +and never would be civil to us.’</p> +<p>A report was brought that the glare of the fire could be seen +over the hill from the top of the house, and off went the two +young ladies to the leads, after satisfying themselves that Anne +was asleep among her homeless dolls.</p> +<p>Old Mr. Fordyce devoted himself to keeping up the spirits of +his daughter-in-law as the night advanced without any tidings, +except that the girls, from time to time, rushed down to tell us +of fresh outbursts of red flame reflected in the sky, then that +the glow was diminishing; by which time they were tired out, and, +both sinking into a big armchair, they went to sleep in each +other’s arms. Indeed I believe we all dozed more or +less before any one returned from the scene of action—at +about three o’clock.</p> +<p>The struggle with the flames had been very unequal. The +long tongues soon reached the roof of the large barn, which was +filled with straw, nor could the flakes of burning thatch be kept +from the stable, while the water of the pond was soon reduced to +mud. Helpers began to flock in, but who could tell which +were trustworthy? and all were uncomprehending.</p> +<p>There was so little hope of saving the house that the removal +of everything valuable was begun under my father’s +superintendence. Frank Fordyce was here, there, and +everywhere; while Griffith, like a gallant general, fought the +foe with very helpless unmanageable forces. Villagers, male +and female, had emerged and stood gaping round; but, let him rage +and storm as he might, they would not go and collect pails and +buckets and form a line to the brook. Still less would they +assist in overthrowing and carrying away the faggots of a big +wood-pile so as to cut off the communication with the +offices. Only Chapman and one other man gave any help in +this; and presently the stack caught, and Griff, on the top, was +in great peril of the faggots rolling down with him into the +middle, and imprisoning him in the blazing pile. ‘I +never felt so like Dido,’ said Griff.</p> +<p>That woodstack gave fearful aliment to the roaring flame, +which came on so fast that the destruction of the adjoining +buildings quickly followed. The Wattlesea engine had come, +but the yard well was unattainable, and all that could be done +was to saturate the house with water from its own well, and cover +the side with wet blankets; but these reeked with steam, and then +shrivelled away in the intense glow of heat.</p> +<p>However, by this time the Eastwood Yeomanry, together with +some reasonable men, had arrived. A raid was made on the +cottages for buckets, a chain formed to the river, and at last +the fire was got under, having made a wreck of everything +out-of-doors, and consumed one whole wing of the house, though +the older and more esteemed portion was saved.</p> +<h2><a name="page149"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +149</span>CHAPTER XVIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE PORTRAIT.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘When day was gone and night was come,<br /> + And all men fast asleep,<br /> +There came the spirit of fair Marg’ret<br /> + And stood at William’s feet.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Scotch Ballad</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> I emerged from my room the +next morning the phaeton was at the door to take the two +clergymen to reconnoitre their abode before going to +church. Miss Fordyce went with them, and my father was for +once about to leave his parish church to give them his sympathy, +and join in their thanksgiving that neither life nor limb had +been injured. He afterwards said that nothing could have +been more touching than old Mr. Fordyce’s manner of +mentioning this special cause for gratitude before the General +Thanksgiving; and Frank Fordyce, having had all his sermons +burnt, gave a short address extempore (a very rare and almost +shocking thing at that date), reducing half the congregation to +tears, for they really loved ‘the fam’ly,’ +though they had not spirit enough to defend it; and their +passiveness always remained a subject of pride and pleasure to +the Fordyces. It was against the will of these good people +that Petty, the ratcatcher, was arrested, but he had been engaged +in other outrages, though this was the only one in which a +dwelling-house had suffered. And Chapman observed that +‘there was nothing to be done with such chaps but to string +’em up out of the way.’</p> +<p>Griff had toiled that night till he was as stiff as a +rheumatic old man when he came down only just in time for +luncheon. Mrs. Fordyce did not appear at all. She was +a fragile creature, and quite knocked up by the agitations of the +night. The gentlemen had visited the desolate rectory, and +found that though the fine ancient kitchen had escaped, the +pleasant living rooms had been injured by the water, and the +place could hardly be made habitable before the spring. +They proposed to take a house in Bath, whence Frank Fordyce could +go and come for Sunday duty and general superintendence, but my +parents were urgent that they should not leave us until after +Christmas, and they consented. Their larger possessions +were to be stored in the outhouses, their lesser in our house, +notably in the inner mullion chamber, which would thus be so +blocked that there would be no question of sleeping in it.</p> +<p>Old Mr. Fordyce had ascertained that he might acquit himself +of smashing Celestina Mary, for no remains appeared in the +carriage; but a miserable trunk was discovered in the ruins, +which he identified—though surely no one else save the +disconsolate parent could have done so. Poor little +Anne’s private possessions had suffered most severely of +all, for her whole nursery establishment had vanished. Her +surviving dolls were left homeless, and devoid of all save their +night-clothing, which concerned her much more than the loss of +almost all her own garments. For what dolls were to her +could never have been guessed by us, who had forced Emily to +disdain them; whereas they were children to the maternal heart of +this lonely child.</p> +<p>She was quite a new revelation to us. All the Fordyces +were handsome; and her chestnut curls and splendid eyes, her +pretty colour and unconscious grace, were very charming. +Emily was so near our own age that we had never known the +winsomeness of a little maid-child amongst us, and she was a +perpetual wonder and delight to us.</p> +<p>Indeed, from having always lived with her elders, she was an +odd little old-fashioned person, advanced in some ways, and +comically simple in others. Her doll-heart was kept in +abeyance all Sunday, and it was only on Monday that her anxiety +for Celestina manifested itself with considerable vehemence; but +her grandfather gravely informed her that the young lady was gone +to an excellent doctor, who would soon effect a cure. The +which was quite true, for he had sent her to a toy-shop by one of +the maids who had gone to restore the ravage on the wardrobes, +and who brought her back with a new head and arms, her identity +apparently not being thus interfered with. The hoards of +scraps were put under requisition to re-clothe the survivors; and +I won my first step in Miss Anne’s good graces by +undertaking a knitted suit for Rosella.</p> +<p>The good little girl had evidently been schooled to repress +her dread and repugnance at my unlucky appearance, and was +painfully polite, only shutting her eyes when she came to shake +hands with me; but after Rosella condescended to adopt me, we +became excellent friends. Indeed the following conversation +was overheard by Emily, and set down:</p> +<p>‘Do you know, Martyn, there’s a fairies’ +ring on Hillside Down?’</p> +<p>‘Mushrooms,’ quoth Martyn.</p> +<p>‘Yes, don’t you know? They are the +fairies’ tables. They come out and spread them with +lily tablecloths at night, and have acorn cups for dishes, with +honey in them. And they dance and play there. Well, +couldn’t Mr. Edward go and sit under the beech-tree at the +edge till they come?’</p> +<p>‘I don’t think he would like it at all,’ +said Martyn. ‘He never goes out at odd +times.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, but don’t you know? when they come they begin +to sing—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘“Sunday and Monday,<br /> +Monday and Tuesday.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And if he was to sing nicely,</p> +<blockquote><p>‘“Wednesday and Thursday,”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>they would be so much pleased that they would make his back +straight again in a moment. At least, perhaps Wednesday and +Thursday would not do, because the little tailor taught them +those; but Friday makes them angry. But suppose he made +some nice verse—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘“Monday and Tuesday<br /> +The fairies are gay,<br /> +Tuesday and Wednesday<br /> +They dance away—”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I think that would do as well, perhaps. Do get him to do +so, Martyn. It would be so nice if he was tall and +straight.’</p> +<p>Dear little thing! Martyn, who was as much her slave as +was her grandfather, absolutely made her shed tears over his +history of our accident, and then caressed them off; but I +believe he persuaded her that such a case might be beyond the +fairies’ reach, and that I could hardly get to the spot in +secret, which, it seems, is an essential point. He had +imagination enough to be almost persuaded of fairyland by her +earnestness, and she certainly took him into doll-land. He +had a turn for carpentry and contrivance, and he undertook that +the Ladies Rosella, etc., should be better housed than +ever. A great packing-case was routed out, and much +ingenuity was expended, much delight obtained, in the process of +converting it into a doll’s mansion, and replenishing it +with furniture. Some was bought, but Martyn aspired to make +whatever he could; I did a good deal, and I believe most of our +achievements are still extant. Whatever we could not +manage, Clarence was to accomplish when he should come home.</p> +<p>His arrival was, as usual, late in the evening; and, as +before, he had the little room within mine. In the morning, +as we were crossing the hall to the bright wood fire, around +which the family were wont to assemble before prayers, he came to +a pause, asking under his breath, ‘What’s that? +Who’s that?’</p> +<p>‘It is one of the Hillside pictures. You know we +have a great many things here from thence.’</p> +<p>‘It is <i>she</i>,’ he said, in a low, +awe-stricken voice. No need to say who <i>she</i> +meant.</p> +<p>I had not paid much attention to the picture. It had +come with several more, such as are rife in country houses, and +was one of the worst of the lot, a poor imitation of Lely’s +style, with a certain air common to all the family; but +Clarence’s eyes were riveted on it. ‘She looks +younger,’ he said; ‘but it is the same. I could +swear to the lip and the whole shape of the brow and chin. +No—the dress is different.’</p> +<p>For in the portrait, there was nothing on the head, and one +long lock of hair fell on the shoulder of the low-cut white-satin +dress, done in very heavy gray shading. The three girls +came down together, and I asked who the lady was.</p> +<p>‘Don’t you know? You ought; for that is poor +Margaret who married your ancestor.’</p> +<p>No more was said then, for the rest of the world was +collecting, and then everybody went out their several ways. +Some tin tacks were wanted for the dolls’ house, and there +were reports that Wattlesea possessed a doll’s grate and +fire-irons. The children were wild to go in quest of them, +but they were not allowed to go alone, and it was pronounced too +far and too damp for the elder sister, so that they would have +been disappointed, if Clarence—stimulated by Martyn’s +kicks under the table—had not offered to be their +escort. When Mrs. Fordyce demurred, my mother replied, +‘You may perfectly trust her with Clarence.’</p> +<p>‘Yes; I don’t know a safer squire,’ rejoined +my father.</p> +<p>Commendation was so rare that Clarence quite blushed with +pleasure; and the pretty little thing was given into his charge, +prancing and dancing with pleasure, and expecting much more from +sixpence and from Wattlesea than was likely to be fulfilled.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image154" href="images/p154b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"‘That is poor Margaret who married your ancestor.’" +title= +"‘That is poor Margaret who married your ancestor.’" + src="images/p154s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Griff went out shooting, and the two young ladies and I +intended to spend a very rational morning in the bookroom, +reading aloud Mme. de La Rochejaquelein’s <i>Memoirs</i> by +turns. Our occupations were, on Emily’s part, +completing a reticule, in a mosaic of shaded coloured beads no +bigger than pins’ heads, for a Christmas gift to +mamma—a most wearisome business, of which she had grown +extremely tired. Miss Fordyce was elaborately copying our +Müller’s print of Raffaelle’s St. John in pencil +on cardboard, so as to be as near as possible a facsimile; and +she had trusted me to make a finished water-coloured drawing from +a rough sketch of hers of the Hillside barn and farm-buildings, +now no more.</p> +<p>In a pause Ellen Fordyce suddenly asked, ‘What did you +mean about that picture?’</p> +<p>‘Only Clarence said it was like—’ and here +Emily came to a dead stop.</p> +<p>‘Grandpapa says it is like me,’ said Miss +Fordyce. ‘What, you don’t mean +<i>that</i>? Oh! oh! oh! is it true? Does she +walk? Have you seen her? Mamma calls it all nonsense, +and would not have Anne hear of it for anything; but old Aunt +Peggy used to tell me, and I am sure grandpapa believes it, just +a little. Have you seen her?’</p> +<p>‘Only Clarence has, and he knew the picture +directly.’</p> +<p>She was much impressed, and on slight persuasion related the +story, which she had heard from an elder sister of her +grandfather’s, and which had perhaps been the more +impressed on her by her mother’s consternation at +‘such folly’ having been communicated to her. +Aunt Peggy, who was much older than her brother, had died only +four years ago, at eighty-eight, having kept her faculties to the +last, and handed down many traditions to her great-niece. +The old lady’s father had been contemporary with the +Margaret of ghostly fame, so that the stages had been few through +which it had come down from 1708 to 1830.</p> +<p>I wrote it down at once, as it here stands.</p> +<p>Margaret was the only daughter of the elder branch of the +Fordyces. Her father had intended her to marry her cousin, +the male heir on whom the Hillside estates and the advowson of +that living were entailed; but before the contract had been +formally made, the father was killed by accident, and through +some folly and ambition of her mother’s (such seemed to be +the Fordyce belief), the poor heiress was married to Sir James +Winslow, one of the successful intriguers of the days of the +later Stewarts, and with a family nearly as old, if not older, +than herself. Her own children died almost at their birth, +and she was left a young widow. Being meek and gentle, her +step-sons and daughters still ruled over Chantry House. +They prevented her Hillside relations from having access to her +whilst in a languishing state of health, and when she died +unexpectedly, she was found to have bequeathed all her property +to her step-son, Philip Winslow, instead of to her blood +relations, the Fordyces.</p> +<p>This was certain, but the Fordyce tradition was that she had +been kept shut up in the mullion chambers, where she had often +been heard weeping bitterly. One night in the winter, when +the gentlemen of the family had gone out to a Christmas carousal, +she had endeavoured to escape by the steps leading to the garden +from the door now bricked up, but had been met by them and +dragged back with violence, of which she died in the course of a +few days; and, what was very suspicious, she had been entirely +attended by her step-daughter and an old nurse, who never would +let her own woman come near her.</p> +<p>The Fordyces had thought of a prosecution, but the Winslows +had powerful interest at Court in those corrupt times, and +contrived to hush up the matter, as well as to win the suit in +which the Fordyces attempted to prove that there was no right to +will the property away. Bitter enmity remained between the +families; they were always opposed in politics, and their +animosity was fed by the belief which arose that at the +anniversaries of her death the poor lady haunted the rooms, lamp +in hand, wailing and lamenting. A duel had been fought on +the subject between the heirs of the two families, resulting in +the death of the young Winslow.</p> +<p>‘And now,’ cried Ellen Fordyce, ‘the feud is +so beautifully ended; the doom must be appeased, now that the +head of one hostile line has come to the rescue of the other, and +saved all our lives.’</p> +<p>My suggestion that these would hardly have been destroyed, +even without our interposition, fell very flat, for romance must +have its swing. Ellen told us how, on the news of our +kinsman’s death and our inheritance, the ancestral story +had been discussed, and her grandfather had said he believed +there were letters about it in the iron deed-box, and how he +hoped to be on better terms with the new heir.</p> +<p>The ghost story had always been hushed up in the family, +especially since the duel, and we all knew the resemblance of the +picture would be scouted by our elders; but perhaps this gave us +the more pleasure in dwelling upon it, while we agreed that poor +Margaret ought to be appeased by Griffith’s prowess on +behalf of the Fordyces.</p> +<p>The two young ladies went off to inspect the mullion chamber, +which they found so crammed with Hillside furniture that they +could scarcely enter, and returned disappointed, except for +having inspected and admired all Griff’s weapons, +especially what Miss Fordyce called the sword of her rescue.</p> +<p>She had been learning German—rather an unusual study in +those days, and she narrated to us most effectively the story of +<i>Die Weisse Frau</i>, working herself up to such a pitch that +she would have actually volunteered to spend a night in the room, +to see whether Margaret would hold any communication with a +descendant, after the example of the White Woman and Lady Bertha, +if there had been either fire or accommodation, and if the only +entrance had not been through Griff’s private +sitting-room.</p> +<h2><a name="page159"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +159</span>CHAPTER XIX.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE WHITE FEATHER.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘The white doe’s milk is not out of +his mouth.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Scott</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Clarence</span> had come home free from +all blots. His summer holiday had been prevented by the +illness of one of the other clerks, whose place, Mr. Castleford +wrote, he had so well supplied that ere long he would be sure to +earn his promotion. That kind friend had several times +taken him to spend a Sunday in the country, and, as we afterwards +had reason to think, would have taken more notice of him but for +the rooted belief of Mr. Frith that it was a case of favouritism, +and that piety and strictness were assumed to throw dust in the +eyes of his patron.</p> +<p>Such distrust had tended to render Clarence more reserved than +ever, and it was quite by the accident of finding him studying +one of Mrs. Trimmer’s Manuals that I discovered that, at +the request of his good Rector, he had become a Sunday-school +teacher, and was as much interested as the enthusiastic girls; +but I was immediately forbidden to utter a word on the subject, +even to Emily, lest she should tell any one.</p> +<p>Such reserve was no doubt an outcome of his natural +timidity. He had to bear a certain amount of scorn and +derision among some of his fellow-clerks for the stricter habits +and observances that could not be concealed, and he dreaded any +fresh revelation of them, partly because of the cruel imputation +of hypocrisy, partly because he feared the bringing a scandal on +religion by his weakness and failures.</p> +<p>Nor did our lady visitors’ ways reassure him, though +they meant to be kind. They could not help being formal and +stiff, not as they were with Griff and me. The two +gentlemen were thoroughly friendly and hearty; Parson Frank could +hardly have helped being so towards any one in the same house +with himself; and as to little Anne, she found in the new-comer a +carpenter and upholsterer superior even to Martyn; but her +candour revealed a great deal which I overheard one afternoon, +when the two children were sitting together on the hearth-rug in +the bookroom in the twilight.</p> +<p>‘I want to see Mr. Clarence’s white +feather,’ observed Anne.</p> +<p>‘Griff has a white plume in his Yeomanry helmet,’ +replied Martyn; ‘Clarence hasn’t one.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, I saw Mr. Griffith’s!’ she answered; +‘but Cousin Horace said Mr. Clarence showed the white +feather.’</p> +<p>‘Cousin Horace is an ape!’ cried Martyn.</p> +<p>‘I don’t think he is so nice as an ape,’ +said Anne. ‘He is more like a monkey. He tries +the dolls by court-martial, and he shot Arabella with a +pea-shooter, and broke her eye; only grandpapa made him have it +put in again with his own money, and then he said I was a little +sneak, and if I ever did it again he would shoot me.’</p> +<p>‘Mind you don’t tell Clarence what he said,’ +said Martyn.</p> +<p>‘Oh, no! I think Mr. Clarence very nice indeed; +but Horace did tease so about that day when he carried poor Amos +Bell home. He said Ellen had gone and made friends with the +worst of all the wicked Winslows, who had shown the white feather +and disgraced his flag. No; I know you are not +wicked. And Mr. Griff came all glittering, like Richard +Cœur de Lion, and saved us all that night. But Ellen +cried to think what she had done, and mamma said it showed what +it was to speak to a strange young man; and she has never let +Ellen and me go out of the grounds by ourselves since that +day.’</p> +<p>‘It is a horrid shame,’ exclaimed Martyn, +‘that a fellow can’t get into a scrape without its +being for ever cast up to him.’</p> +<p>‘<i>I</i> like him,’ said Anne. ‘He +gave Mary Bell a nice pair of boots, and he made a new pair of +legs for poor old Arabella, and she can really sit down! +Oh, he is <i>very</i> nice; but’—in an awful +whisper—‘does he tell stories? I mean +fibs—falsehoods.’</p> +<p>‘Who told you that?’ exclaimed Martyn.</p> +<p>‘Mamma said it. Ellen was telling them something +about the picture of the white-satin lady, and mamma said, +“Oh, if it is only that young man, no doubt it is a mere +mystification;” and papa said, “Poor young fellow, he +seems very amiable and well disposed;” and mamma said, +“If he can invent such a story it shows that Horace was +right, and he is not to be believed.” Then they +stopped, but I asked Ellen who it was, and she said it was Mr. +Clarence, and it was a sad thing for Emily and all of you to have +such a brother.’</p> +<p>Martyn began to stammer with indignation, and I thought it +time to interfere; so I called the little maid, and gravely +explained the facts, adding that poor Clarence’s punishment +had been terrible, but that he was doing his best to make up for +what was past; and that, as to anything he might have told, +though he might be mistaken, he never said anything <i>now</i> +but what he believed to be true. She raised her brown eyes +to mine full of gravity, and said, ‘I <i>do</i> like +him.’ Moreover, I privately made Martyn understand +that if he told her what had been said about the white-satin +lady, he would never be forgiven; the others would be sure to +find it out, and it might shorten their stay.</p> +<p>That was a dreadful idea, for the presence of those two +creatures, to say nothing of their parents, was an unspeakable +charm and novelty to us all. We all worshipped the elder, +and the little one was like a new discovery and toy to us, who +had never been used to such a presence. She was not a +commonplace child; but even if she had been, she would have been +as charming a study as a kitten; and she had all the four of us +at her feet, though her mother was constantly protesting against +our spoiling her, and really kept up so much wholesome discipline +that the little maid never exceeded the bounds of being charming +to us. After that explanation there was the same sweet +wistful gentleness in her manner towards Clarence as she showed +to me; while he, who never dreamt of such a child knowing his +history was brighter and freer with her than with any one else, +played with her and Martyn, and could be heard laughing merrily +with them. Perhaps her mother and sister did not fully like +this, but they could not interfere before our faces. And +Parson Frank was really kind to him; took him out walking when +going to Hillside, and talked to him so as to draw him out; +certifying, perhaps, that he would do no harm, although, indeed, +the family looked on dear good Frank as a sort of boy, too +kind-hearted and genial for his approval to be worth as much as +that of the more severe.</p> +<p>These were our only Christmas visitors, for the state of the +country did not invite Londoners; but we did not want them. +The suppression of Clarence was the only flaw in a singularly +happy time; and, after all I believe I felt the pity of it more +than he did, who expected nothing, and was accustomed to being in +the background.</p> +<p>For instance, one afternoon in the course of one of the grave +discussions that used to grow up between Miss Fordyce, Emily, and +me, over subjects trite to the better-instructed younger +generation, we got quite out of our shallow depths. I think +it was on the meaning of the ‘Communion of Saints,’ +for the two girls were both reading in preparation for a +Confirmation at Bristol, and Miss Fordyce knew more than we did +on these subjects. All the time Clarence had sat in the +window, carving a bit of doll’s furniture, and quite +forgotten; but at night he showed me the exposition copied from +<i>Pearson on the Creed</i>, a bit of Hooker, and extracts from +one or two sermons. I found these were notes written out in +a blank book, which he had had in hand ever since his +Confirmation—his logbook as he called it; but he would not +hear of their being mentioned even to Emily, and only consented +to hunt up the books on condition I would not bring him forward +as the finder. It was of no use to urge that it was a +deprivation to us all that he should not aid us with his more +thorough knowledge and deeper thought. ‘He could not +do so,’ he said, in a quiet decisive manner; ‘it was +enough for him to watch and listen to Miss Fordyce, when she +could forget his presence.’</p> +<p>She often did forget it in her eagerness. She was by +nature one of the most ardent beings that I ever saw, yet with +enthusiasm kept in check by the self-control inculcated as a +primary duty. It would kindle in those wonderful light +brown eyes, glow in the clear delicate cheek, quiver in the voice +even when the words were only half adequate to the feeling. +She was not what is now called gushing. Oh, no! not in the +least! She was too reticent and had too much dignity for +anything of the kind. Emily had always been reckoned as our +romantic young lady, and teased accordingly, but her enthusiasm +beside Ellen’s was</p> +<blockquote><p>‘As moonlight is to sunlight, as water is to +wine,’—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>a mere reflection of the tone of the period, compared with a +real element in the character. At least so my sister tells +me, though at the time all the difference I saw was that Miss +Fordyce had the most originality, and unconsciously became the +leader. The bookroom was given up to us, and there in the +morning we drew, worked, read, copied and practised music, wrote +out extracts, and delivered our youthful minds to one another on +all imaginable topics from ‘slea silk to +predestination.’</p> +<p>Religious subjects occupied us more than might have been held +likely. A spirit of reflection and revival was silently +working in many a heart. Evangelicalism had stirred +old-fashioned orthodoxy, and we felt its action. The +<i>Christian Year</i> was Ellen’s guiding star—as it +was ours, nay, doubly so in proportion to the ardour of her +nature. Certain poems are dearer and more eloquent to me +still, because the verses recall to me the thrill of her sweet +tones as she repeated them. We were all very ignorant alike +of Church doctrine and history, but talking out and comparing our +discoveries and impressions was as useful as it was pleasant to +us.</p> +<p>What the <i>Christian Year</i> was in religion to us Scott was +in history. We read to verify or illustrate him, and we had +little raving fits over his characters, and jokes founded on +them. Indeed, Ellen saw life almost through that medium; +and the siege of Hillside, dispersed by the splendid prowess of +Griffith, the champion with silver helm and flashing sword, was +precious to her as a renewal of the days of Ivanhoe or Damian de +Lacy.</p> +<p>As may be believed, these quiet mornings were those when that +true knight was employed in field sports or yeomanry duties, such +as the state of the country called for. When he was at +home, all was fun and merriment and noise—walks and rides +on fine days, battledore and shuttlecock on wet ones, music, +singing, paper games, giggling and making giggle, and sometimes +dancing in the hall—Mr. Frank Fordyce joining with all his +heart and drollery in many of these, like the boy he was.</p> +<p>I could play quadrilles and country dances, and now and then a +reel—nobody thought of waltzes—and the three couples +changed and counterchanged partners. Clarence had the +sailor’s foot, and did his part when needed; Emily +generally fell to his share, and their silence and gravity +contrasted with the mirth of the other pairs. He knew very +well he was the <i>pis aller</i> of the party, and only danced +when Parson Frank was not dragged out, nothing loth, by his +little daughter. With Miss Fordyce, Clarence never had the +chance of dancing; she was always claimed by Griff, or pounced +upon by Martyn.</p> +<p>Miss Fordyce she always was to us in those days, and those +pretty lips scrupulously ‘Mistered’ and +‘Winslowed’ us. I don’t think she would +have been more to us, if we had called her Nell, and had been +Griff, Bill, and Ted to her, or if there had not been all the +little formalities of avoiding tête à têtes +and the like. They were essentials of propriety +then—natural, and never viewed as prudish. Nor did it +detract from the sweet dignity of maidenhood that there was none +of the familiarity which breeds something one would rather not +mention in conjunction with a lady.</p> +<p>Altogether there was a sunshine around Miss Fordyce by which +we all seemed illuminated, even the least favoured and least +demonstrative; we were all her willing slaves, and thought her +smile and thanks full reward.</p> +<p>One day, when Griff and Martyn were assisting at the turn out +of an isolated barn at Hillside, where Frank Fordyce declared, +all the burnt-out rats and mice had taken refuge, the young +ladies went out to cater for house decorations for Christmas +under Clarence’s escort. Nobody but the clerk ever +thought of touching the church, where there were holes in all the +pews to receive the holly boughs.</p> +<p>The girls came back, telling in eager scared voices how, while +gathering butcher’s broom in Farmer Hodges’ home +copse, a savage dog had flown out at them, but had been kept at +bay by Mr. Clarence Winslow with an umbrella, while they escaped +over the stile.</p> +<p>Clarence had not come into the drawing-room with them, and +while my mother, who had a great objection to people standing +about in out-door garments, sent them up to doff their bonnets +and furs, I repaired to our room, and was horrified to find him +on my bed, white and faint.</p> +<p>‘Bitten?’ I cried in dismay.</p> +<p>‘Yes; but not much. Only I’m such a +fool. I turned off when I began taking off my boots. +No, no—don’t! Don’t call any one. +It is nothing!’</p> +<p>He was springing up to stop me, but was forced to drop back, +and I made my way to the drawing-room, where my mother happened +to be alone. She was much alarmed, but a glass of wine +restored Clarence; and inspection showed that the thick trowser +and winter stocking had so protected him that little blood had +been drawn, and there was bruise rather than bite in the calf of +the leg, where the brute had caught him as he was getting over +the stile as the rear-guard. It was painful, though the +faintness was chiefly from tension of nerve, for he had kept +behind all the way home, and no one had guessed at the +hurt. My mother doctored it tenderly, and he begged that +nothing should be said about it; he wanted no fuss about such a +trifle. My mother agreed, with the proud feeling of not +enhancing the obligations of the Fordyce family; but she +absolutely kissed Clarence’s forehead as she bade him lie +quiet till dinner-time.</p> +<p>We kept silence at table while the girls described the horrors +of the monster. ‘A tawny creature, with a hideous +black muzzle,’ said Emily. ‘Like a bad +dream,’ said Miss Fordyce. The two fathers expressed +their intention of remonstrating with the farmer, and Griff +declared that it would be lucky if he did not shoot it. +Miss Fordyce generously took its part, saying the poor dog was +doing its duty, and Griff ejaculated, ‘If I had been +there!’</p> +<p>‘It would not have dared to show its teeth, eh?’ +said my father, when there was a good deal of banter.</p> +<p>My father, however, came at night with mamma to inspect the +hurt and ask details, and he ended with, ‘Well done, +Clarence, boy; I am gratified to see you are acquiring presence +of mind, and can act like a man.’</p> +<p>Clarence smiled when they were gone, saying, ‘That would +have been an insult to any one else.’</p> +<p>Emily perceived that he had not come off unscathed, and was +much aggrieved at being bound to silence. +‘Well,’ she broke out, ‘if the dog goes mad, +and Clarence has the hydrophobia, I suppose I may +tell.’</p> +<p>‘In that pleasing contingency,’ said Clarence +smiling. ‘Don’t you see, Emily, it is the worst +compliment you can pay me not to treat this as a matter of +course?’ Still, he was the happier for not having +failed. Whatever strengthened his self-respect and gave him +trust in himself was a stepping-stone.</p> +<p>As to rivalry or competition with Griff, the idea seemingly +never crossed his mind, and envy or jealousy were equally aloof +from it. One subject of thankfulness runs through these +recollections—namely, that nothing broke the tie of strong +affection between us three brothers. Griffith might figure +as the ‘vary parfite knight,’ the St. George of the +piece, glittering in the halo shed round him by the bright eyes +of the rescued damsel; while Clarence might drag himself along as +the poor recreant to be contemned and tolerated, and he would +accept the position meekly as only his desert, without a thought +of bitterness. Indeed, he himself seemed to have imbibed +Nurse Gooch’s original opinion, that his genuine love for +sacred things was a sort of impertinence and pretension in such +as he—a kind of hypocrisy even when they were the realities +and helps to which he clung with all his heart. Still, this +depression was only shown by reserve, and troubled no one save +myself, who knew him best guessed what was lost by his silence, +and burned in spirit at seeing him merely endured as one +unworthy.</p> +<p>In one of our varieties of Waverley discussions the crystal +hardness and inexperienced intolerance of youth made Miss Fordyce +declare that had she been Edith Plantagenet, she would never, +never have forgiven Sir Kenneth. ‘How could she, when +he had forsaken the king’s banner? +Unpardonable!’</p> +<p>Then came a sudden, awful silence, as she recollected her +audience, and blushed crimson with the misery of perceiving where +her random shaft had struck, nor did either of us know what to +say; but to our surprise it was Clarence who first spoke to +relieve the desperate embarrassment. ‘Is forgiven +quite the right word, when the offence was not personal? I +know that such things can neither be repaired nor overlooked, and +I think that is what Miss Fordyce meant.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Mr. Winslow,’ she exclaimed, ‘I am very +sorry—I don’t think I quite meant’—and +then, as her eyes for one moment fell on his subdued face, she +added, ‘No, I said what I ought not. If there is +sorrow’—her voice trembled—‘and pardon +above, no one below has any right to say unpardonable.’</p> +<p>Clarence bowed his head, and his lips framed, but he did not +utter, ‘Thank you.’ Emily nervously began +reading aloud the page before her, full of the jingling recurring +rhymes about Sir Thomas of Kent; but I saw Ellen surreptitiously +wipe away a tear, and from that time she was more kind and +friendly with Clarence.</p> +<h2><a name="page171"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +171</span>CHAPTER XX.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">VENI, VIDI, VICI.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘None but the brave,<br /> +None but the brave,<br /> +None but the brave deserve the +fair.’—<i>Song</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Christmas</span> trees were not yet heard +of beyond the Fatherland, and both the mothers held that +Christmas parties were not good for little children, since Mrs. +Winslow’s strong common sense had arrived at the same +conclusion as Mrs. Fordyce had derived from Hannah More and +Richard Lovell Edgeworth. Besides, rick-burning and mobs +were far too recent for our neighbours to venture out at +night.</p> +<p>But as we were all resolved that little Anne should have a +memorable Christmas at Chantry House, we begged an innocent, +though iced cake, from the cook, painted a set of characters +ourselves, including all the dolls, and bespoke the presence of +Frank Fordyce at a feast in the outer mullion +room—Griff’s apartment, of course. The locality +was chosen as allowing more opportunity for high jinks than the +bookroom, and also because the swords and pistols in trophy over +the mantelpiece had a great fascination for the two sisters, and +to ‘drink tea with Mr. Griffith’ was always known to +be a great ambition of the little queen of the festival. As +to the mullion chamber legends, they had nearly gone out of our +heads, though Clarence did once observe, ‘You remember, it +will be the 26th of December;’ but we did not think this +worthy of consideration, especially as Anne’s +entertainment, at its latest, could not last beyond nine +o’clock; and the ghostly performances—now entirely +laid to the account of the departed stable-boy—never began +before eleven.</p> +<p>Nor did anything interfere with our merriment. The fun +of fifty years ago must be intrinsically exquisite to bear being +handed down to another generation, so I will attempt no +repetition, though some of those Twelfth Day characters still +remain, pasted into my diary. We anticipated Twelfth Day +because our guests meant to go to visit some other friends before +the New Year, and we knew Anne would have no chance there of +fulfilling her great ambition of drawing for king and +queen. These home-made characters were really +charming. Mrs. Fordyce had done several of them, and she +drew beautifully. A little manipulation contrived that the +exquisite Oberon and Titania should fall to Martyn and Anne, for +whom crowns and robes had been prepared, worn by her majesty with +complacent dignity, but barely tolerated by him! The others +took their chance. Parson Frank was Tom Thumb, and +convulsed us all the evening by acting as if no bigger than that +worthy, keeping us so merry that even Clarence laughed as I had +never seen him laugh before.</p> +<p>Cock Robin and Jenny Wren—the best drawn of +all—fell to Griff and Miss Fordyce. There was a +suspicion of a tint of real carnation on her cheek, as, on his +low, highly-delighted bow, she held up her impromptu fan of +folded paper; and drollery about currant wine and hopping upon +twigs went on more or less all the time, while somehow or other +the beauteous glow on her cheeks went on deepening, so that I +never saw her look so pretty as when thus playing at Jenny +Wren’s coyness, though neither she nor Griff had passed the +bounds of her gracious precise discretion.</p> +<p>The joyous evening ended at last. With the stroke of +nine, Jenny Wren bore away Queen Titania to put her to bed, for +the servants were having an entertainment of their own downstairs +for all the out-door retainers, etc. Oberon departed, after +an interval sufficient to prove his own dignity and advanced +age. Emily went down to report the success of the evening +to the elders in the drawing-room, but we lingered while Frank +Fordyce was telling good stories of Oxford life, and Griff +capping them with more recent ones.</p> +<p>We too broke up—I don’t remember how; but Clarence +was to help me down the stairs, and Mr. Fordyce, frowning with +anxiety at the process, was offering assistance, while we had +much rather he had gone out of the way; when suddenly, in the +gallery round the hall giving access to the bedrooms, there +dawned upon us the startled but scarcely displeased figure of +Jenny Wren in her white dress, not turning aside that blushing +face, while Cock Robin was clasping her hand and pressing it to +his lips. The tap of my crutches warned them. She +flew back within her door and shut it; Griff strode rapidly on, +caught hold of her father’s hand, exclaiming, ‘Sir, +sir, I must speak to you!’ and dragged him back into the +mullion room leaving Clarence and me to convey ourselves +downstairs as best we might.</p> +<p>‘Our sister, our sweet sister!’</p> +<p>We were immensely excited. All the three of us were so +far in love with Ellen Fordyce that her presence was an +enchantment to us, and at any rate none of us ever saw the woman +we could compare to her; and as we both felt ourselves +disqualified in different ways from any nearer approach, we were +content to bask in the reflected rays of our brother’s +happiness.</p> +<p>Not that he had gone that length as yet, as we knew before the +night was over, when he came down to us. Even with the dear +maiden herself, he had only made sure that she was not averse, +and that merely by her eyes and lips; and he had extracted +nothing from her father but that they were both very young, a +great deal too young, and had no business to think of such things +yet. It must be talked over, etc. etc.</p> +<p>But just then, Griff told us, Frank Fordyce jumped up and +turned round with the sudden exclamation, ‘Ellen!’ +looking towards the door behind him with blank astonishment, as +he found it had neither been opened nor shut. He thought +his daughter had recollected something left behind, and coming in +search of it, had retreated precipitately. He had seen her, +he said, in the mirror opposite. Griff told him there was +no mirror, and had to carry a candle across to convince him that +he had only been looking at the door into the inner room, which +though of shining dark oak, could hardly have made a reflection +as vivid as he declared that his had been. Indeed, he +ascertained that Ellen had never left her own room at all. +‘It must have been thinking about the dear child,’ he +said. ‘And after all, it was not quite like +her—somehow—she was paler, and had something over her +head.’ We had no doubt who it was. Griff had +not seen her, but he was certain that there had been none of the +moaning nor crying, ‘In fact, she has come to give her +consent,’ he said with earnest in his mocking tone.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Clarence gravely, and with glistening +eyes. ‘You are happy Griff. It is given to you +to right the wrong, and quiet that poor spirit.’</p> +<p>‘Happy! The happiest fellow in the world,’ +said Griff, ‘even without that latter clause—if only +Madam and the old man will have as much sense as she +has!’</p> +<p>The next day was a thoroughly uncomfortable one. Griff +was not half so near his goal as he had hoped last night when +with kindly Parson Frank.</p> +<p>The commotion was as if a thunderbolt had descended among the +elders. What they had been thinking of, I cannot tell, not +to have perceived how matters were tending; but their minds were +full of the Reform Bill and the state of the country, and, +besides, we were all looked on still as mere children. +Indeed, Griff was scarcely one-and-twenty, and Ellen wanted a +month of seventeen; and the crisis had really been a sudden +impulse, as he said, ‘She looked so sweet and lovely, he +could not help it.’</p> +<p>The first effect was a serious lecture upon maidenliness and +propriety to poor Ellen from her mother, who was sure that she +must have transgressed the bounds of discretion, or such ill-bred +presumption would have been spared her, and bitterly regretted +the having trusted her to take care of herself. There were +sufficient grains of truth in this to make the poor girl cry +herself out of all condition for appearing at breakfast or +luncheon, and Emily’s report of her despair made us much +more angry with Mrs. Fordyce than was perhaps quite due to that +good lady.</p> +<p>My parents were at first inclined to take the same line, and +be vexed with Griff for an act of impertinence towards a +guest. He had a great deal of difficulty in inducing the +elders to believe him in earnest, or treat him as a man capable +of knowing his own mind; and even thus they felt as if his +addresses to Miss Fordyce were, under present circumstances, +taking almost an unfair advantage of the other family—at +which our youthful spirits felt indignant.</p> +<p>Yet, after all, such a match was as obvious and suitable as if +it had been a family compact, and the only objection was the +youth of the parties. Mrs. Fordyce would fain have believed +her daughter’s heart to be not yet awake, and was grieved +to find childhood over, and the hero of romance become the lover; +and she was anxious that full time should be given to perceive +whether her daughter’s feelings were only the result of the +dazzling aureole which gratitude and excited fancy had cast +around the fine, handsome, winning youth. Her husband, +however, who had himself married very young, and was greatly +taken with Griff, besides being always tender-hearted, did not +enter into her scruples; but, as we had already found out, the +grand-looking and clever man of thirty-eight was, chiefly from +his impulsiveness and good-nature, treated as the boy of the +family. His old father, too, was greatly pleased with +Griff’s spirit, affection, and purpose, as well as with my +father’s conduct in the matter; and so, after a succession +of private interviews, very tantalising to us poor outsiders, it +was conceded that though an engagement for the present was +preposterous, it might possibly be permitted when Ellen was +eighteen if Griff had completed his university life with full +credit. He was fervently grateful to have such an object +set before him, and my father was warmly thankful for the +stimulus.</p> +<p>That last evening was very odd and constrained. We could +not help looking on the lovers as new specimens over which some +strange transformation had passed, though for the present it had +stiffened them in public into the strictest good behaviour. +They would have been awkward if it had been possible to either of +them, and, save for a certain look in their eyes, comported +themselves as perfect strangers.</p> +<p>The three elder gentlemen held discussions in the dining-room, +but we were not trusted in our playground adjoining. Mrs. +Fordyce nailed Griff down to an interminable game at chess, and +my mother kept the two girls playing duets, while Clarence turned +over the leaves; and I read over <i>The Lady of the Lake</i>, a +study which I always felt, and still feel, as an act of homage to +Ellen Fordyce, though there was not much in common between her +and the maid of Douglas. Indeed, it was a joke of her +father’s to tease her by criticising the famous passage +about the tears that old Douglas shed over his duteous +daughter’s head—‘What in the world should the +man go whining and crying for? He had much better have +laughed with her.’</p> +<p>Little did the elders know what was going on in the next room, +where there was a grand courtship among the dolls; the hero being +a small jointed Dutch one in Swiss costume, about an eighth part +of the size of the resuscitated Celestina Mary, but the only +available male character in doll-land! Anne was supposed to +be completely ignorant of what passed above her head; and her +mother would have been aghast had she heard the remarkable +discoveries and speculations that she and Martyn communicated to +one another.</p> +<h2><a name="page179"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +179</span>CHAPTER XXI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE OUTSIDE OF THE COURTSHIP.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Or framing, as a fair excuse,<br /> +The book, the pencil, or the muse;<br /> +Something to give, to sing, to say,<br /> +Some modern tale, some ancient lay.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Scott</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> seems to me on looking back that +I have hardly done justice to Mrs. Fordyce, and certainly +we—as Griffith’s eager partisans—often regarded +her in the light of an enemy and opponent; but after this lapse +of time, I can see that she was no more than a prudent mother, +unwilling to see her fair young daughter suddenly launched into +womanhood, and involved in an attachment to a young and untried +man.</p> +<p>The part of a drag is an invidious one; and this must have +been her part through most of her life. The Fordyces, +father and son, were of good family, gentlemen to their very +backbones, and thoroughly good, religious men; but she came of a +more aristocratic strain, had been in London society, and brought +with her a high-bred air which, implanted on the Fordyce good +looks, made her daughter especially fascinating. But that +air did not recommend Mrs. Fordyce to all her neighbours, any +more than did those stronger, stricter, more thorough-going +notions of religious obligation which had led her husband to make +the very real and painful sacrifice of his sporting tastes, and +attend to the parish in a manner only too rare in those +days. She was a very well-informed and highly accomplished +woman, and had made her daughter the same, keeping her children +up in a somewhat exclusive style, away from all gossip or +undesirable intimacies, as recommended by Miss Edgeworth and +other more religious authorities, and which gave great offence in +houses where there were girls of the same age. No one, +however, could look at Ellen, and doubt of the success of the +system, or of the young girl’s entire content and perfect +affection for her mother, though her father was her beloved +playfellow—yet always with respect. She never took +liberties with him, nor called him Pap or any other ridiculous +name inconsistent with the fifth Commandment, though she +certainly was more entirely at ease with him than ever we had +been with our elderly father. When once Mrs. Fordyce found +on what terms we were to be, she accepted them frankly and +fully. Already Emily had been the first girl, not a +relation, whose friendship she had fostered with Ellen; and she +had also become thoroughly affectionate and at home with my +mother, who suited her perfectly on the conscientious, and +likewise on the prudent and sensible, side of her nature.</p> +<p>To me she was always kindness itself, so kind that I never +felt, as I did on so many occasions, that she was very pitiful +and attentive to the deformed youth; but that she really enjoyed +my companionship, and I could help her in her pursuits. I +have a whole packet of charming notes of hers about books, +botany, drawings, little bits of antiquarianism, written with an +arch grace and finish of expression peculiarly her own, and in a +very pointed hand, yet too definite to be illegible. I owe +her more than I can say for the windows of wholesome hope and +ambition she opened to me, giving a fresh motive and zest even to +such a life as mine. I can hardly tell which was the most +delightful companion, she or her husband. In spite of ill +health, she knew every plant, and every bit of fair scenery in +the neighbourhood, and had fresh, amusing criticisms to utter on +each new book; while he, not neglecting the books, was equally +well acquainted with all beasts and birds, and shed his kindly +light over everything he approached. He was never +melancholy about anything but politics, and even there it was an +immense consolation to him to have the owner of Chantry House +staunch on the same side, instead of in chronic opposition.</p> +<p>The family party moved to a tall house at Bath, but there +still was close intercourse, for the younger clergyman rode over +every week for the Sunday duty, and almost always dined and slept +at Chantry House. He acted as bearer of long letters, +which, in spite of a reticulation of crossings, were too +expensive by post for young ladies’ pocket-money, often +exceeding the regular quarto sheet. It was a favourite joke +to ask Emily what Ellen reported about Bath fashions, and to see +her look of scorn. For they were a curious mixture, those +girlish letters, of village interests, discussion of books, and +thoughts beyond their age; Tommy Toogood and Prometheus; or Du +Guesclin in the closest juxtaposition with reports of progress in +Abercrombie on the <i>Intellectual Powers</i>. It was the +desire of Ellen to prove herself not unsettled but improved by +love, and to become worthy of her ideal Griffith, never guessing +that he would have been equally content with her if she had been +as frivolous as the idlest girl who lingered amid the waning +glories of Bath.</p> +<p>We all made them a visit there when Martyn was taken to a +preparatory school in the place. Mrs. Fordyce took me out +for drives on the beautiful hills; and Emily and I had a very +delightful time, undisturbed by the engrossing claims of +love-making. Very good, too, were our friends, after our +departure, in letting Martyn spend Sundays and holidays with +them, play with Anne as before, say his Catechism with her to +Mrs. Fordyce, and share her little Sunday lessons, which had, he +has since told, a force and attractiveness he had never known +before, and really did much, young as he was, in preparing the +way towards the fulfilment of my father’s design for +him.</p> +<p>When the Rectory was ready, and the family returned, it was +high summer, and there were constant meetings between the +households. No doubt there were the usual amount of trivial +disappointments and annoyances, but the whole season seems to me +to have been bathed in sunlight. The Reform Bill agitations +and the London mobs of which Clarence wrote to us were like waves +surging beyond an isle of peace. Clarence had some +unpleasant walks from the office. Once or twice the +shutters had to be put up at Frith and Castleford’s to +prevent the windows from being broken; and once Clarence actually +saw our nation’s hero, ‘the Duke,’ riding +quietly and slowly through a yelling, furious mob, who seemed +withheld from falling on him by the perfect impassiveness of the +eagle face and spare figure. Moreover a pretty little boy, +on his pony, suddenly pushed forward and rode by the Duke’s +side, as if proud and resolute to share his peril.</p> +<p>‘If Griffith had been there!’ said Ellen and +Emily, though they did not exactly know what they expected him to +have done.</p> +<p>The chief storms that drifted across our sky were caused by +Mrs. Fordyce’s resolution that Griffith should enjoy none +of the privileges of an accepted suitor before the engagement was +an actual fact. Ellen was obedient and conscientious; and +would neither transgress nor endure to have her mother railed at +by Griff’s hasty tongue, and this affronted him, and led to +little breezes.</p> +<p>When people overstay their usual time, tempers are apt to get +rather difficult. Griffith had kept all his terms at +Oxford, and was not to return thither after the long vacation, +but was to read with a tutor before taking his degree. +Moreover bills began to come from Oxford, not very serious, but +vexing my father and raising annoyances and frets, for Griff +resented their being complained of, and thought himself ill-used, +going off to see his own friends whenever he was put out.</p> +<p>One morning at breakfast, late in October, he announced that +Lady Peacock was in lodgings at Clifton, and asked my mother to +call on her. But mamma said it was too far for the +horse—she visited no one at that distance, and had never +thought much of Selina Clarkson before or after her marriage.</p> +<p>‘But now that she is a widow, it would be such a +kindness,’ pleaded Griff.</p> +<p>‘Depend upon it, a gay young widow needs no kindness +from me, and had better not have it from you,’ said my +mother, getting up from behind her urn and walking off, followed +by my father.</p> +<p>Griff drummed on the table. ‘I wonder what good +ladies of a certain age do with their charity,’ he +said.</p> +<p>And while we were still crying out at him, Ellen Fordyce and +her father appeared, like mirth bidding good-morrow, at the +window. All was well for the time, but Griff wanted Ellen +to set out alone with him, and take their leisurely way through +the wood-path, and she insisted on waiting for her father, who +had got into an endless discussion with mine on the Reform Bill, +thrown out in the last Session. Griff tried to wile her on +with him, but, though she consented to wander about the lawn +before the windows with him, she always resolutely turned at the +great beech tree. Emily and I watched them from the window, +at first amused, then vexed, as we could see, by his gestures, +that he was getting out of temper, and her straw bonnet drooped +at one moment, and was raised the next in eager remonstrance or +defence. At last he flung angrily away from her, and went +off to the stables, leaving her leaning against the gate in +tears. Emily, in an access of indignant sympathy, rushed +out to her, and they vanished together into the summer-house, +until her father called her, and they went home together.</p> +<p>Emily told me that Ellen had struggled hard to keep herself +from crying enough to show traces of tears which her father could +observe, and that she had excused Griff with all her might on the +plea of her own ‘tiresomeness.’</p> +<p>We were all the more angry with him for his selfishness and +want of consideration, for Ellen, in her torrent of grief, had +even disclosed that he had said she did not care for him—no +one really in love ever scrupled about a mother’s nonsense, +etc., etc.</p> +<p>We were resolved, like two sages, to give him a piece of our +minds, and convince him that such dutifulness was the pledge of +future happiness, and that it was absolute cruelty to the rare +creature he had won, to try to draw her in a direction contrary +to her conscience.</p> +<p>However, we saw him no more that day; and only learnt that he +had left a message at the stables that dinner was not to be kept +waiting for him. Such a message from Clarence would have +caused a great commotion; but it was quite natural and a matter +of course from him in the eyes of the elders, who knew nothing of +his parting with Ellen. However, there was annoyance +enough, when bedtime came, family prayers were over, and still +there was no sign of him. My father sat up till one +o’clock, to let him in, then gave it up, and I heard his +step heavily mounting the stairs.</p> +<h2><a name="page186"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +186</span>CHAPTER XXII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">BRISTOL DIAMONDS.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘<i>Stafford</i>. And you that are the +King’s friends, follow me.</p> +<p><i>Cade</i>. And you that love the Commons, follow +me;<br /> +We will not leave one lord, one gentleman,<br /> +Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Act I. <i>Henry VI</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next day was Sunday, and no +Griff appeared in the morning. Vexation, perhaps, prevented +us from attending as much as we otherwise might have done to Mr. +Henderson when he told us that there were rumours of a serious +disturbance at Bristol; until Emily recollected that Griff had +been talking for some days past of riding over to see his friend +in the cavalry regiment there stationed, and we all agreed that +it was most likely that he was there; and our wrath began to +soften in the belief that he might have been detained to give his +aid in the cause of order, though his single arm could not be +expected to effect as much as at Hillside.</p> +<p>Long after dark we heard a horse’s feet, and in another +minute Griff, singed, splashed, and battered, had hurried into +the room—‘It has begun!’ he said. +‘The revolution! I have brought her—Lady +Peacock. She was at Clifton, dreadfully alarmed. She +is almost at the door now, in her carriage. I’ll just +take the pony, and ride over to tell Eastwood in case he will +call out the Yeomanry.’</p> +<p>The wheels were to be heard, and everybody hastened out to +receive Lady Peacock, who was there with her maid, full of +gratitude. I heard her broken sentences as she came across +the hall, about dreadful scenes—frightful mob—she +knew not what would have become of her but for Griffith—the +place was in flames when they left it—the military would +not act—Griffith had assured her that Mr. and Mrs. Winslow +would be so kind—as long as any place was a +refuge—</p> +<p>We really did believe we were at the outbreak of a revolution +or civil war, and, all little frets forgotten, listened appalled +to the tidings; how the appearance of Sir Charles Wetherall, the +Recorder of Bristol, a strong opponent to the Reform Bill, seemed +to have inspired the mob with fury. Griff and his friend +the dragoon, while walking in Broad Street, were astonished by a +violent rush of riotous men and boys, hooting and throwing stones +as the Recorder’s carriage tried to make its way to the +Guildhall. In the midst a piteous voice +exclaimed—</p> +<p>‘Oh, Griffith! Mr. Griffith Winslow! Is it +you?’ and Lady Peacock was seen retreating upon the stone +steps of a house either empty, or where the inhabitants were too +much alarmed to open the doors. She was terribly +frightened, and the two gentlemen stood in front of her till the +tumultuary procession had passed by. She was staying in +lodgings at Clifton, and had driven in to Bristol to shop, when +she thus found herself entangled in the mob. They then +escorted her to the place where she was to meet her carriage, and +found it for her with some difficulty. Then, while the +officer returned to his quarters, Griff accompanied her far +enough on the way to Clifton to see that everything was quiet +before her, and then returned to seek out his friend. The +court at the Guildhall had had to be adjourned, but the rioters +were hunting Sir Charles to the Mansion-House. Griff was +met by one of the Town Council, a tradesman with whom we dealt, +who, having perhaps heard of his prowess at Hillside, entreated +him to remain, offering him a bed, and saying that all friends of +order were needed in such a crisis as this. Griff wrote a +note to let us know what had become of him, but everything was +disorganised, and we did not get it till two days afterwards.</p> +<p>In the evening the mob became more violent, and in the midst +of dinner a summons came for Griff’s host to attend the +Mayor in endeavouring to disperse it. Getting into the +Mansion-House by private back ways, they were able to join the +Mayor when he came out, amid a shower of brickbats, sticks, and +stones, and read the Riot Act three times over, after warning +them of the consequences of persisting in their defiance.</p> +<p>‘But they were far past caring for that,’ said +Griff. ‘An iron rail from the square was thrown in +the midst of it, and if I had not caught it there would have been +an end of his Worship.’</p> +<p>The constables, with such help as Griff and a few others could +give them, defended the front of the Mansion-House, while the +Recorder, for whom they savagely roared, made his escape by the +roof to another house. A barricade was made with beds, +tables, and chairs, behind which the defenders sheltered +themselves, while volleys of stones smashed in the windows, and +straw was thrown after them. But at last the tramp of +horses’ feet was heard, and the Dragoons came up.</p> +<p>‘We thought all over then,’ said Griff; ‘but +Colonel Brereton would not have a blow struck, far less a shot +fired! He would have it that it was a good-humoured +mob! I heard him! When one of his own men was brought +up badly hurt with a brickbat, I heard Ludlow, the Town-Clerk, +ask him what he thought of their good humour, and he had nothing +to say but that it was an accident! And the rogues knew +it! He took care they should; he walked about among them +and shook hands with them!’</p> +<p>Griff waited at the Mansion-House all night, and helped to +board up the smashed windows; but at daylight Colonel Brereton +came and insisted on withdrawing the piquet on guard—not, +however, sending a relief for them, on the plea that they only +collected a crowd. The instant they were withdrawn, down +came the mob in fresh force, so desperate that all the defences +were torn down, and they swarmed in so that there was nothing for +it but to escape over the roofs.</p> +<p>Griffith was sent to rouse the inhabitants of College Green +and St. Augustine’s Back to come in the King’s name +to assist the Magistrates, and he had many good stories of the +various responses he met with. But the rioters, inflamed by +the wine they had found in sacking the Mansion-House, and +encouraged by the passiveness of the troops, had become entirely +masters of the situation. And Colonel Brereton seems to +have imagined that the presence of the soldiers acted as an +irritation; for in this crisis he actually sent them out of the +city to Keynsham, then came and informed the mob, who cheered +him, as well they might.</p> +<p>In the night the Recorder had left the city, and notices were +posted to that effect; also that the Riot Act had been read, and +any further disturbance would be capital felony. This +escape of their victim only had the effect of directing the rage +of the populace against Bishop Grey, who had likewise opposed the +Reform Bill.</p> +<p>Messages had been sent to advise the Bishop, who was to preach +that day at the Cathedral, to stay away and sanction the omission +of the service; but his answer to one of his clergy +was—‘These are times in which it is necessary not to +shrink from danger! Our duty is to be at our +post.’ And he also said, ‘Where can I die +better than in my own Cathedral?’</p> +<p>Since the bells were ringing, and it was understood that the +Bishop was actually going to dare the peril, Griff and others of +the defenders decided that it was better to attend the service +and fill up the nave so as to hinder outrage. He said it +was a most strange and wonderful service. Chants and Psalms +and Lessons and prayers going on their course as usual, but every +now and then in the pauses of the organ, a howl or yell of the +voice of the multitude would break on the ear through the thick +walls. Griff listened and hoped for a volley of +musketry. He was not tender-hearted! But none came, +and by the time the service was over, the mob had been greatly +reinforced and had broken into the prisons, set them on fire, and +released the prisoners. They were mustering on College +Green for an attack on the palace. Griff aided in guarding +the entrance to the cloisters till the Bishop and his family had +had time to drive away to Almondsbury, four miles off, and then +the rush became so strong that they had to give way. There +was another great struggle at the door of the palace, but it was +forced open with a crowbar, while shouts rang out ‘No King +and no Bishops!’ A fire was made in the dining-room +with chairs and tables, and live coals were put into the beds, +while the plunder went on.</p> +<p>Griff meantime had made his way to the party headed by the +magistrates, and accompanied by the dragoons, and the mob began +to flee; but Colonel Brereton had given strict orders that the +soldiers should not fire, and the plunderers rallied, made a fire +in the Chapter House, and burnt the whole of the library, +shouting with the maddest triumph.</p> +<p>They next attacked the Cathedral, intending to burn that +likewise, but two brave gentlemen, Mr. Ralph and Mr. Linne, +succeeded in saving this last outrage, at the head of the better +affected.</p> +<p>Griff had fought hard. He was all over bruises which he +really had never felt at the time, scarcely even now, though one +side of his face was turning purple, and his clothes were +singed. In a sort of council held at the repulse of the +attack on the Cathedral, it had been decided that the best thing +he could do would be to give notice to Sir George Eastwood, in +order that the Yeomanry might be called out, since the troops +were so strangely prevented from acting. As he rode through +Clifton, he had halted at Lady Peacock’s, and found her in +extreme alarm. Indeed, no one could guess what the temper +of the mob might be the next day, or whether they might not fall +upon private houses. The Mansion-House, the prisons, the +palace were all burning and were an astounding sight, which +terrified her exceedingly, and she was sending out right and left +to endeavour to get horses to take her away. In common +humanity, and for old acquaintance sake, it was impossible not to +help her, and Griff had delayed, to offer any amount of reward in +her name for posthorses, which he had at last secured. Her +own man-servant, whom she had sent in quest of some, had never +returned, and she had to set off without him, Griff acting as +outrider; but after the first there was no more difficulty about +horses, and she had been able to change them at the next +stage.</p> +<p>We all thought the days of civil war were really begun, as the +heads of this account were hastily gathered; but there was not +much said, only Mr. Frank Fordyce laid his hand on Griff’s +shoulder and said, ‘Well done, my boy; but you have had +enough for to-day. If you’ll lend me a horse, +Winslow, I’ll ride over to Eastwood. That’s +work for the clergy in these times, eh? Griffith should +rest. He may be wanted to-morrow. Only is there any +one to take a note home for me, to say where I’m +gone;’ and then he added with that sweet smile of his, +‘Some one will be more the true knight than ever, eh, you +Griffith you—’</p> +<p>Griffith coloured a little, and Lady Peacock’s eyes +looked interrogative. When the horse was announced, Griff +followed Mr. Fordyce into the hall, and came back announcing +that, unless summoned elsewhere, he should go to breakfast at +Hillside, and so hear what was decided on. He longed to be +back at the scene of action, but was so tired out that he could +not dispense with another night’s rest; though he took all +precautions for being called up, in case of need.</p> +<p>However, nothing came, and he rode to the Rectory in Yeomanry +equipment. Nor could any one doubt that in the ecstasy of +meeting such a hero, all the little misunderstanding and grief of +the night before was forgotten? Ellen looked as if she trod +on air, when she came down with her father to report that +Griffith had gone, according to the orders sent, to join the rest +of the Yeomanry, who were to advance upon Bristol. They had +seen, and tried to turn back, some of the villagers who were +starting with bludgeons to share in the spoil, and who looked +sullen, as if they were determined not to miss their share.</p> +<p>I do not think we were very much alarmed for Griff’s +safety or for our own, not even the ladies. My mother had +the lion-heart of her naval ancestors, and Ellen was in a state +of exaltation. Would that I could put her before other +eyes, as she stood with hands clasped and glowing cheek.</p> +<p>‘Oh!—think!—think of having one among us who +is as real and true knight as ever watched his armour—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘“For king, +for church, for lady fight!”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It has all come gloriously true!’</p> +<p>‘Should not you like to bind on his spurs?’ I +asked somewhat mischievously; but she was serious as she said, +‘I am sure he has won them.’ All the rest of +the Fordyces came down afterwards, too anxious to stay at +home. Our elders felt the matter more gravely, thinking of +what civil war might mean to us all, and what an awful thing it +was for Englishmen to be enrolled against each other. +Nottingham Castle had just been burnt, and things looked only too +like revolution, especially considering the inaction of the +dragoons. After Griff had left Bristol, there had been some +terrible scenes at the Custom House, where the +ringleaders—unhappy men!—were caught in a trap of +their own and perished miserably.</p> +<p>However, by the morning, the order sent from Lord Hill, the +arrival of Major Beckwith from Gloucester, and the proceedings of +the good-humoured mob had put an end to poor Brereton’s +hesitations; a determined front had been shown; the mob had been +fairly broken up; troops from all quarters poured into the city, +and by dinner-time Griff came back with the news that all was +quiet and there was nothing more to fear. Ellen and Emily +both flew out to meet him at the first sound of the horse’s +feet, and they all came into the drawing-room together—each +young lady having hold of one of his hands—and +Ellen’s face in such a glow, that I rather suspect that he +had snatched a reward which certainly would not have been granted +save in such a moment of uplifted feeling, and when she was +thankful to her hero for forgetting how angry he had been with +her two days before.</p> +<p>Minor matters were forgotten in the details of his tidings, as +he stood before the fire, shining in his silver lace, and +relating the tragedy and the comedy of the scene.</p> +<p>It was curious, as the evening passed on, to see how Ellen and +Lady Peacock regarded each other, now that the tension of +suspense was over. To Ellen, the guest was primarily a +distressed and widowed dame, delivered by Griff, to whom she, as +his lady love, was bound to be gracious and kind; nor had they +seen much of one another, the elder ladies sitting in the +drawing-room, and we in our own regions; but we were all together +at dinner and afterwards, and Lady Peacock, who had been in a +very limp, nervous, and terrified state all day, began to be the +Selina Clarkson we remembered, and ‘more too.’ +She was still in mourning, but she came down to dinner in gray +satin sheen, and with her hair in a most astonishing erection of +bows and bands, on the very crown of her head, raising her height +at least four inches. Emily assures me that it was the mode +in use, and that she and Ellen wore their hair in the same style, +appealing to portraits to prove it. I can only say that +they never astonished my weak mind in the like manner; and that +their heads, however dressed, only appeared to me a portion of +the general woman, and part of the universal fitness of +things. Ellen was likewise amazed, most likely not at the +hair, but at the transformation of the disconsolate, frightened +widow, into the handsome, fashionable, stylish lady, talking over +London acquaintance and London news with my father and Griff +whenever they left the endless subject of the Bristol +adventures.</p> +<p>The widow had gained a good deal in beauty since her early +girlhood, having regular features, eyes of an uncommon deep blue, +very black brows, eye-lashes, and hair, and a form of the kind +that is better after early youth is over. ‘A fine +figure of a woman,’ Parson Frank pronounced her, and his +wife, with the fine edge of her lips replied, ‘exactly what +she is!’</p> +<p>She looked upon us younger ones as mere children +still—indeed she never looked at me at all if she could +help it—but she mortally offended Emily by penning her up +in a corner, and asking if Griff were engaged to that sentimental +little girl.</p> +<p>Emily coloured like a turkey cock between wrath and +embarrassment, and hotly protested against the word +sentimental.</p> +<p>‘Ah yes, I see!’ she said in a patronising tone, +‘she is your bosom friend, eh? That’s the way +those things always begin. You need not answer: I see it +all. And no doubt it is a capital thing for him; properties +joining and all. And she will get a little air and style +when he takes her to London.’ It was a tremendous +offence even to hint that Ellen’s style was capable of +improvement; perhaps an unprejudiced eye would have said that the +difference was between high-bred simplicity and the air of +fashion and society.</p> +<p>In our eyes Lady Peacock was the companion of the elders, and +as such was appreciated by the gentlemen; but neither of the two +mothers was equally delighted with her, nor was mine at all sorry +when, on Tuesday, the boxes were packed, posthorses sent for, and +my Lady departed, with great expressions of thankfulness to us +all.</p> +<p>‘A tulip to a jessamine,’ muttered Griff as she +drove off, and he looked up at his Ellen’s sweet refined +face.</p> +<p>The unfortunate Colonel Brereton put an end to himself when +the court-martial was half over. How Clarence was shocked +and how ardent was his pity! But Griffith received the +thanks of the Corporation of Bristol for his gallant conduct, +when the special assize was held in January. Mrs. Fordyce +was almost as proud of him as we were, and there was much less +attempt at restraining the terms on which he stood with +Ellen—though still the formal engagement was not +permitted.</p> +<h2><a name="page198"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +198</span>CHAPTER XXIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">QUICKSANDS.</span></h2> + +<blockquote><p> ‘Whither +shall I go?<br /> +Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes?’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Tennyson</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was in the May of the ensuing +year, 1832, that Clarence was sent down to Bristol for a few +weeks to take the place of one of the clerks in the office where +the cargoes of the incoming vessels of the firm were received and +overhauled.</p> +<p>This was a good-natured arrangement of Mr. Castleford’s +in order to give him change of work and a sight of home, where, +by the help of the coach, he could spend his Sundays. That +first spring day on his way down was a great delight and even +surprise to him, who had never seen our profusion of primroses, +cowslips, and bluebells, nor our splendid blossom of +trees—apple, lilac, laburnum—all vieing in beauty +with one another. Emily conducted him about in great +delight, taking him over to Hillside to see Mrs. Fordyce’s +American garden, blazing with azaleas, and glowing with +rhododendrons. He came back with a great bouquet given to +him by Ellen, who had been unusually friendly with him, and he +was more animated and full of life than for years before.</p> +<p>Next time he came he looked less happy. There was plenty +of room in our house, but he used, by preference, the little +chamber within mine, and there at night he asked me to lend him a +few pounds, since Griffith had written one of his off-hand +letters asking him to discharge a little bill or two at Bristol, +giving the addresses, but not sending the accounts. This +was no wonder, since any enclosure doubled the already heavy +postage. One of these bills was for some sporting +equipments from the gunsmith’s; another, much heavier, from +a tavern for breakfasts, or rather luncheons, to parties of +gentlemen, mostly bearing date in the summer and autumn of 1830, +before the friendship with the Fordyces had begun. On +Clarence’s defraying the first and applying for the second, +two more had come in, one from a jeweller for a pair of +drop-earrings, the other from a nurseryman for a bouquet of +exotics. Doubting of these two last, Clarence had written +to Griff, but had not yet received an answer. The whole +amount was so much beyond what he had been led to expect that he +had not brought enough money to meet it, and wanted an advance +from me, promising repayment, to which latter point I could not +assent, as both of us knew, but did not say, we should never see +the sum again, and to me it only meant stinting in new books and +curiosities. We were anxious to get the matter settled at +once, as Griffith spoke of being dunned; and it might be serious, +if the tradesmen applied to my father when he was still groaning +over revelations of college expenses.</p> +<p>On the ensuing Saturday, Clarence showed me Griff’s +answer—‘I had forgotten these items. The +earrings were a wedding present to the pretty little barmaid, who +had been very civil. The bouquet was for Lady Peacock; I +felt bound to do something to atone for mamma’s severe +virtue. It is all right, you best of brothers.’</p> +<p>It was consolatory that all the dates were prior to the +Hillside fire, except that of the bouquet. As to the +earrings, we all knew that Griff could not see a pretty girl +without talking nonsense to her. Anyway, if they were a +wedding present, there was an end of it; and we were only glad to +prevent any hint of them from reaching the ears of the +authorities.</p> +<p>Clarence had another trouble to confide to me. He had +strong reason to believe that Tooke, the managing clerk at +Bristol, was carrying on a course of peculation, and feathering +his nest at the expense of the firm. What a grand +discovery, thought I, for such a youth to have made. The +firm would be infinitely obliged to him, and his fortune would be +secured. He shook his head, and said that was all my +ignorance; the man, Tooke, was greatly trusted, especially by Mr. +Frith the senior partner, and was so clever and experienced that +it would be almost impossible to establish anything against +him. Indeed he had browbeaten Clarence, and convinced him +at the moment that his suspicions and perplexities were only due +to the ignorance of a foolish, scrupulous youth, who did not +understand the customs and perquisites of an agency. It was +only when Clarence was alone, and reflected on the matter by the +light of experience gained on a similar expedition to Liverpool, +that he had perceived that Mr. Tooke had been throwing dust in +his eyes.</p> +<p>‘I shall only get into a scrape myself,’ said +Clarence despondently. ‘I have felt it coming ever +since I have been at Bristol;’ and he pushed his hair back +with a weary hopeless gesture.</p> +<p>‘But you don’t mean to let it alone?’ I +cried indignantly.</p> +<p>He hesitated in a manner that painfully recalled his failing, +and said at last, ‘I don’t know; I suppose I ought +not.’</p> +<p>‘Suppose?’ I cried.</p> +<p>‘It is not so easy as you think,’ he answered, +‘especially for one who has forfeited the right to be +believed. I must wait till I have an opportunity of +speaking to Mr. Castleford, and then I can hardly do more than +privately give him a hint to be watchful. You don’t +know how things are in such houses as ours. One may only +ruin oneself without doing any good.’</p> +<p>‘You cannot write to him?’</p> +<p>‘Certainly not. He has taken his family to Mrs. +Castleford’s home in the north of Ireland for a month or +six weeks. I don’t know the address, and I cannot run +the risk of the letter being opened at the office.’</p> +<p>‘Can’t you speak to my father?’</p> +<p>‘Impossible! it would be a betrayal. He would do +things for which I should never be forgiven. And, after +all, remember, it is no business of mine. I know of agents +at the docks who do such things as a matter of course. It +is only that I happen to know that Harris at Liverpool does +not. Very possibly old Frith knows all about it. I +should only get scored down as a meddlesome prig, worse hypocrite +than they think me already.’</p> +<p>He said a good deal more to this effect, and I remember +exclaiming, ‘Oh, Clarence, the old story!’ and then +being frightened at the whiteness that came over his face.</p> +<p>Little did I know the suffering to which those words of mine +condemned him. For not only had he to make up his mind to +resistance, which to his nature was infinitely worse than it was +to Griffith to face a raging mob, but he knew very well that it +would almost inevitably produce his own ruin, and renew the +disgrace out of which he was beginning to emerge. I did +not—even while I prayed that he might do the +right—guess at his own agony of supplication, carried on +incessantly, day and night, sleeping and waking, that the Holy +Spirit of might should brace his will and govern his tongue, and +make him say the right thing at the right time, be the +consequences what they might. No one, not constituted as he +was, can guess at the anguish he endured. I knew no +more. Clarence did not come home the next Saturday, to my +mother’s great vexation; but on Tuesday a small parcel was +given to me, brought from our point of contact with the Bristol +coach. It contained some pencils I had asked him to get, +and a note marked <i>private</i>. Here it is—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘<span class="smcap">Dear +Edward</span>—I am summoned to town. Tooke has no +doubt forestalled me. We have had some curious interviews, +in which he first, as I told you, persuaded me out of my senses +that it was all right, and then, finding me still dissatisfied, +tried in a delicate fashion to apprise me that I had a claim to a +share of the plunder. When I refused to appropriate +anything without sanction from headquarters, he threatened me +with the consequences of presumptuous interference. It came +to bullying at last. I hardly know what I answered, but I +don’t think I gave in. Now, a sharp letter from old +Frith recalls me. Say nothing at home; and whatever you do, +do not betray Griff. He has more to lose than I. Help +me in the true way, as you know how.—Ever yours, W. C. +W.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I need not dwell on the misery of those days. It was +well that my father had ruled that our letters should not be +family property. Here were all the others discussing a +proposed tour in the north of Devon, to be taken conjointly with +the Fordyces, as soon as Griff should come home. My mother +said it would do me good; she saw I was flagging, but she little +guessed at the continual torment of anxiety, and my wonder at the +warning about Griff.</p> +<p>At the end of the week came another letter.</p> +<blockquote><p>‘You need not speak yet. Papa and +mamma will know soon enough. I brought down £150 in +specie, to be paid over to Tooke. He avers that only +£130 was received. What is my word worth against +his? I am told that if I am not prosecuted it will only be +out of respect to my father. I am not dismissed yet, but +shall get notice as soon as letters come from Ireland. I +have written, but it is not in the nature of things that Mr. +Castleford should not accept such proofs as have been sent +him. I have no hope, and shall be glad when it is +over. The part of black sheep is not a pleasant one. +Say not a word, and do not let my father come up. He could +do no good, and to see him believing it all would be the last +drop in the bucket.</p> +<p><i>N.B.</i>—In this pass, nothing would be saved by +bringing Griff into it, so be silent on your life. +Innocence does not seem to be much comfort at present. +Maybe it will come in time. I know you will not drop me, +dear Ted, wherever I may be.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Need I tell the distress of those days of suspense and +silence, when my only solace was in being left alone, and in +writing letters to Clarence which were mostly torn up again.</p> +<p>My horror was lest he should be driven to go off to the sea, +which he loved so well, knowing, as nobody else did, the longing +that sometimes seized him for it, a hereditary craving that +curiously conflicted with the rest of his disposition; and, +indeed, his lack was more of moral than of physical +courage. It haunted me constantly that his entreaty that my +father should not come to London was a bad sign, and that he +would never face such another return home. And was I +justified in keeping all this to myself, when my father’s +presence might save him from the flight that would indeed be the +surrender of his character, and to the life of a common +sailor? Never have I known such leaden days as these, yet +the misery was not a tithe of what Clarence was undergoing.</p> +<p>I was right in my forebodings. Prosecution and a second +return home in shame and disgrace were alike hideous to Clarence, +and the present was almost equally terrible, for nobody at the +office had any doubt of his guilt, and the young men who had +sneered at his strictness and religious habits regarded him as an +unmasked hypocrite, only waiting on sufferance till his greatly +deceived patron should write to decide on the steps to be taken +with him, while he knew he was thought to be brazening it out in +hopes of again deceiving Mr. Castleford.</p> +<p>The sea began to exert its power over him, and he thought with +longing of its freedom, as if the sails of the vessels were the +wings of a dove to flee away and be at rest. He had no +illusions as to the roughness of the life and companionship; but +in his present mood, the frank rudeness and profanity of the +sailors seemed preferable to his cramped life, and the scowls of +his fellows; and he knew himself to have seamanship enough to +rise quickly, even if he could not secure a mate’s berth at +first.</p> +<p>Mr. Castleford could not be heard from till the end of the +week. Friday, Saturday came and not a word. That was +the climax! When the consignment of cash, hitherto carried +by Clarence to the Bank of England, was committed to another +clerk, the very office boy sniggered, and the manager +demonstratively waited to see him depart.</p> +<p>Unable to bear it any longer, he walked towards Wapping, +bought a Southwester, examined the lists of shipping, and entered +into conversation with one or two sailors about the vessels +making up their crews; intending to go down after dark, to meet +the skipper of a craft bound for Lisbon, who, he heard, was so +much in want of a mate as perhaps to overlook the lack of +testimonials, and at any rate take him on board on Sunday.</p> +<p>Going home to pick up a few necessaries, a book lent to him by +Miss Newton came in his way, and he felt drawn to carry it home, +and see her face for the last time.</p> +<p>All unconscious of his trouble and of his intentions, the good +lady told him of her strong desire to hear a celebrated preacher +at a neighbouring church on the Sunday evening, but said that in +her partial blindness and weakness, she was afraid to venture, +unless he would have the extreme goodness, as she said, to take +care of her. He saw that she wished it so much that he had +not the heart to refuse, and he recollected likewise that very +early on Monday morning would answer his purpose equally +well.</p> +<p>It was the 7th of June. The Psalm was the 37th—the +supreme lesson of patience. ‘Hold thee still in the +Lord; and abide patiently on Him; and He shall bring it to +pass. He shall make thy righteousness as clear as the +light, and thy just dealing as the noonday.’</p> +<p>The awful sense of desolation seemed to pass away under those +words, with that gentle woman beside him. And the sermon +was on ‘Oh tarry thou the Lord’s leisure; be strong, +and He shall comfort thine heart; and put thou thy trust in the +Lord.’</p> +<p>Clarence remembered nothing but the text. But it was +borne in upon him that his purpose of flight was ‘the old +story,’—cowardice and virtual distrust of the Lord, +as well as absolute cruelty to us who loved him.</p> +<p>When he had deposited Miss Newton at her own door, he +whispered thanks, and an entreaty for her prayers.</p> +<p>And then he went home, and fought the battle of his life, with +his own horrible dread of Mr. Castleford’s disappointment; +of possible prosecution; of the shame at home; the misery of a +life a second time blighted. He fought it out on his knees, +many a time persuading himself that flight would not be a sin, +then returning to the sense that it was a temptation of his worse +self to be overcome. And by morning he knew that it would +be a surrender of himself to his lower nature, and the evil +spirit behind it; while, by facing the worst that could befall +him, he would be falling into the hand of the Lord.</p> +<h2><a name="page208"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +208</span>CHAPTER XXIV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">AFTER THE TEMPEST.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Nor deem the irrevocable past<br /> +As wholly wasted, wholly vain,<br /> +If rising on its wrecks at last<br /> +To something nobler we attain.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Longfellow</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">All</span> the rest of the family were +out, and I was relieved by being alone with my distress, not +forced to hide it, when the door opened and ‘Mr. +Castleford’ was announced. After one moment’s +look at me, one touch of my hand, he must have seen that I was +faint with anxiety, and said, ‘It is all right, Edward; I +see you know all. I am come from Bristol to tell your +father that he may be proud of his son Clarence.’</p> +<p>I don’t know what I did. Perhaps I sobbed and +cried, but the first words I could get out were, ‘Does he +know? Oh! it may be too late. He may be gone off to +sea!’ I cried, breaking out with my chief fear. Mr. +Castleford looked astounded, then said, ‘I trust not. +I sent off a special messenger last night, as soon as I saw my +way—’</p> +<p>Then I breathed a little more freely, and could understand +what he was telling me, namely, that Tooke had accused Clarence +of abstracting £20 from the sum in his charge. The +fellow accounted for it by explaining that young Winslow had been +paying extravagant bills at a tavern, where the barmaid showed +his presents, and boasted of her conquest. All this had +been written to Mr. Castleford by his partner, and he was told +that it was out of deference to himself that his +<i>protégé</i> was not in custody, nor had received +notice of dismissal; but, no doubt, he would give his sanction to +immediate measures, and communicate with the family.</p> +<p>The effect had been to make the good man hurry at once from +the Giant’s Causeway to Bristol, where he had arrived on +Sunday, to investigate the books and examine the +underlings. In the midst Tooke attempted to abscond, but he +was brought back as he was embarking in an American vessel; and +he then confessed the whole,—how speculation had led to +dishonesty, and following evil customs not uncommon in other +firms. Then, when the fugitive found that young Winslow was +too acute to be blinded, and that it had been a still greater +mistake to try to overcome his integrity, self-defence required +his ruin, or at any rate his expulsion, before he could gain Mr. +Castleford’s ear.</p> +<p>Tooke really believed that the discreditable bills were the +young man’s own, and proofs of concealed habits of +dissipation; but this excellent man had gone into the matter, +repaired to the tradesfolk, learnt the date, and whose the +accounts really were, and had even hunted up the barmaid, who was +not married after all, and had no hesitation in avowing that her +beau had been the handsome young Yeomanry lieutenant. Mr. +Castleford had spent the greater part of Monday in this painful +task, but had not been clear enough till quite late in the +evening to despatch an express to his partner, and to Clarence, +whom he desired to meet him here.</p> +<p>‘He has acted nobly,’ said our kind friend. +‘His only error seems to have been in being too good a +brother.’</p> +<p>This made me implore that nothing should be said about +Griffith’s bills, showing those injunctions of +Clarence’s which had so puzzled me, and explaining the +circumstances.</p> +<p>Mr. Castleford hummed and hawed, and perhaps wished he had +seen my father before me; but I prevailed at last, and when the +others came in from their drive, there was nothing to alloy the +intelligence that Clarence had shown rare discernment, as well as +great uprightness, steadfastness, and moral courage.</p> +<p>My mother, when she had taken in the fact, actually shed tears +of joy. Emily stood by me, holding my hand. My father +said, ‘It is all owing to you, Castleford, and the helping +hand you gave the poor boy.’</p> +<p>‘Nay,’ was the answer, ‘it seems to me that +it was owing to his having the root of the matter in him to +overcome his natural failings.’</p> +<p>Still, in all the rejoicing, my heart failed me lest the +express should have come too late, and Clarence should be already +on the high seas, for there had been no letter from him on Sunday +morning. It was doubtful whether Mr. Castleford’s +messenger could reach London in time for tidings to come down by +the coach—far less did we expect Clarence—and we had +nearly finished the first course at dinner, when we heard the +front door open, and a voice speaking to the butler. Emily +screamed ‘It’s he! Oh mamma, may I?’ and +flew out into the hall, dragging in a pale, worn and weary wight, +all dust and heat, having travelled down outside the coach on a +broiling day, and walked the rest of the way. He looked +quite bewildered at the rush at him; my father’s +‘Well done, Clarence,’ and strong clasp; and my +mother’s fervent kiss, and muttered something about washing +his hands.</p> +<p>Formal folks, such as we were, had to sit in our chairs; and +when he came back apologising for not dressing, as he had left +his portmanteau for the carrier, he looked so white and ill that +we were quite shocked, and began to realise what he had +suffered. He could not eat the food that was brought back +for him, and allowed that his head was aching dreadfully; but, +after a glass of wine had been administered, it was extracted +that he had met Mr. Frith at the office door, and been gruffly +told that Mr. Castleford was satisfied, and he might consider +himself acquitted.</p> +<p>‘And then I had your letter, sir, thank you,’ said +Clarence, scarcely restraining his tears.</p> +<p>‘The thanks are on our side, my dear boy,’ said +Mr. Castleford. ‘I must talk it over with you, but +not till you have had a night’s rest. You look as if +you had not known one for a good while.’</p> +<p>Clarence gave a sort of trembling smile, not trusting himself +to speak. Approbation at home was so new and strange to him +that he could scarcely bear it, worn out as he was by nearly a +month of doubt, distress, apprehension, and self-debate.</p> +<p>My mother went herself to hasten the preparation of his room, +and after she had sent him to bed went again to satisfy herself +that he was comfortable and not feverish. She came back +wiping away a tear, and saying he had looked up at her just as +when she had the three of us in our nursery cribs. In truth +these two had seldom been so happy together since those days, +though the dear mother, while thankful that he had not failed, +was little aware of the conflict his resolution had cost him, and +the hot journey and long walk came in for more blame for his +exhaustion than they entirely deserved.</p> +<p>My father perhaps understood more of the trial; for when she +came back, declaring that all that was needed was sleep, and +forbidding me to go to my room before bedtime, he said he must +bid the boy good-night.</p> +<p>And he spoke as his reserve would have never let him speak at +any other time, telling Clarence how deeply thankful he felt for +the manifestation of such truthfulness and moral courage as he +said showed that the man had conquered the failings of the +boy.</p> +<p>Nevertheless, when I retired for the night, it was to find +Clarence asleep indeed, but most uneasily, tossing, moaning, and +muttering broken sentences about ‘disgracing his +pennant,’ ‘never bearing to see mamma’s +face’—and the like. I thought it a kindness to +wake him, and he started up. ‘Ted, is it you? I +thought I should never hear your dear old crutch again! Is +it really all right’—then, sitting up and passing his +hand over his face, ‘I always mix it up with the old +affair, and think the court-martial is coming again.’</p> +<p>‘There’s all the difference now.’</p> +<p>‘Thank God! yes—He has dragged me through! +But it did not seem so in one’s sleep, nor waking +neither—though sleep is worst, and happily there was not +much of that! Sit down, Ted; I want to look at you. I +can’t believe it is not three weeks since I saw you +last.’</p> +<p>We talked it all out, and I came to some perception of the +fearful ordeal it had been—first, in the decision neither +to shut his eyes, nor to conceal that they were open; and then in +the lack of presence of mind and the sense of confusion that +always beset him when browbeaten and talked down, so that, in the +critical contest with Tooke, he felt as if his feet were slipping +from under him, and what had once been clear to him was becoming +dim, so that he had only been assured that he had held his ground +by Tooke’s redoubled persuasions and increased anger. +And for a clerk, whose years were only twenty-one, to oppose a +manager, who had been in the service more than the whole of that +space, was preposterous insolence, and likely to result in the +utter ruin of his own prospects, and the character he had begun +to retrieve. It was just after this, the real crisis, that +he had the only dream which had not been misery and +distress. In it she—she yonder—yes, the lady +with the lamp, came and stood by him, and said, ‘Be +steadfast.’</p> +<p>‘It was a dream,’ said Clarence. ‘She +was not as she is in the mullion room, not crying, but with a +sweet, sad look, almost like Miss Fordyce—if Miss Fordyce +ever looked sad. It was only a dream.’</p> +<p>Yet it had so refreshed and comforted him that we have often +since discussed whether the spirit really visited him, or whether +this was the manner in which conscience and imagination acted on +his brain. Indeed, he always believed that the dream had +been either heaven-sent or heaven-permitted.</p> +<p>The die had been cast in that interview when he had let it be +seen that he was dangerous, and could not be bought over. +The after consequences had been the terrible distress and +temptation I have before described, only most inadequately. +‘But that,’ said Clarence, half smiling, ‘only +came of my being such a wretched creature as I am. There, +dear old Miss Newton saved me—yes, she did—most +unconsciously, dear old soul. Don’t you remember how +Griff used to say she maundered over the text. Well, she +did it all the way home in my ear, as she clung to my +arm—“Be strong, and He shall comfort thine +heart.” And then I knew my despair and determination +to leave it all behind were a temptation—“the old +story,” as you told me, and I prayed God to help me, and +just managed to fight it out. Thank God for her!’</p> +<p>If it had not been for that good woman, he would have been out +of reach—already out in the river—before Mr. +Castleford’s messenger had reached London! He might +call himself a poor creature—and certainly a man of harder, +bolder stuff would not have fared so badly in the strife; but it +always seemed to me in after years that much of what he called +the poor creature—the old, nervous, timid, diffident +self—had been shaken off in that desperate struggle, +perhaps because it had really given him more self-reliance, and +certainly inspired others with confidence in him.</p> +<p>We talked late enough to have horrified my mother, but I did +not leave him till he was sleeping like a child, nor did he wake +till I was leaving the room at the sound of the bell. It +was alleged that it was the first time in his life that he had +been late for prayers. Mr. Castleford said he was very +glad, and my mother, looking severely at me, said she knew we had +been talking all night, and then went off to satisfy herself +whether he ought to be getting up.</p> +<p>There was no doubt on that score, for he was quite himself +again, though he was, in looks and in weariness, just as if he +had recovered from a bad illness, or, as he put it himself, he +felt as tired and bruised as if he had been in a stiff +gale. Mr. Castleford was sorry to be obliged to ask him to +go through the whole matter with him in the study, and the result +was that he was pronounced to have an admirable head for +business, as well as the higher qualities that had been put to +the test. After that his good friend insisted that he +should have a long and complete holiday, at first proposing to +take him to Ireland, but giving the notion up on hearing of our +projected excursion to the north of Devon. Pending this, +Clarence was, for nearly a week, fit for nothing but lying on the +grass in the shade, playing with the cats and dogs, or with +little Anne, looking over our drawings, listening to Wordsworth, +our reigning idol,—and enjoying, with almost touching +gratitude, the first approach to petting that had ever fallen to +his share.</p> +<p>The only trouble on his mind was the Quarter-Session. +Mr. Castleford would hardly have prosecuted an old +employé, but Mr. Frith was furious, and resolved to make +an example. Tooke had, however, so carefully entrenched +himself that nothing could be actually made a subject of +prosecution but the abstraction of the £20 of which he had +accused Clarence, who had to prove the having received and +delivered it.</p> +<p>It was a very painful affair, and Tooke was sentenced to seven +years’ transportation. I believe he became a very +rich and prosperous man in New South Wales, and founded a +family. My father received warm compliments upon his sons, +and Clarence had the new sensation of being honourably coupled +with Griffith, though he laughed at the idea of mere honesty with +fierce struggles being placed beside heroism with no struggle at +all.</p> +<h2><a name="page217"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +217</span>CHAPTER XXV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">HOLIDAY-MAKING.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘The child upon the mountain side<br /> + Plays fearless and at ease,<br /> +While the hush of purple evening<br /> + Spreads over earth and seas.<br /> +The valley lies in shadow,<br /> + But the valley lies afar;<br /> +And the mountain is a slope of light<br /> + Upreaching to a star.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Menella +Smedley</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">How</span> pleasant it was to hear +Griffith’s cheery voice, as he swung himself down, out of a +cloud of dust, from the top of the coach at the wayside +stage-house, whither Clarence and I had driven in the new +britshka to meet him. While the four fine coach-horses were +led off, and their successors harnessed in almost the twinkling +of an eye, Griff was with us; and we did nothing but laugh and +poke fun at each other all the way home, without a word of graver +matters.</p> +<p>I was resolved, however, that Griff should know how terribly +his commission had added to Clarence’s danger, and how +carefully the secret had been guarded; and the first time I could +get him alone, I told him the whole.</p> +<p>The effect was one of his most overwhelming fits of +laughter. ‘Poor old Bill! To think of his being +accused of gallanting about with barmaids!’ (an explosion +at every pause) ‘and revelling with officers! Poor +old Bill! it was as bad as Malvolio himself.’</p> +<p>When, indignant at the mirth excited by what had nearly cost +us so dear, I observed that these items had nearly turned the +scale against our brother, Griff demanded how we could have been +such idiots as not to have written to him; I might at least have +had the sense to do so. As to its doing him harm at +Hillside, Parson Frank was no fool, and knew what men were made +of! Griff would have taken the risk, come at once, and +thrust the story down the fellow’s throat (as indeed he +would have done). The idea of Betsy putting up with a pious +young man like Bill, whose only flame had ever been old Miss +Newton! And he roared again at the incongruous pair. +‘Oh, wasn’t she married after all, the hussy? +She always had a dozen beaux, and professed to be on the point of +putting up her banns; so if the earrings were not a wedding +present, they might have been, ought to have been, and would be +some time or other.’</p> +<p>Then he patted me, and declared there was no occasion for my +disgusted looks, for no one knew better than himself that he had +the best brace of brothers in existence, wanting in nothing but +common sense and knowledge of the world. As to +Betsy—faugh! I need not make myself uneasy about her; +she knew what a civil word was worth much better than I did.</p> +<p>He showed considerable affection for Clarence after a fashion +of his own, which we three perfectly understood, and preferred to +anything more conventional. Griff was always delightful, +and he was especially so on that vacation, when every one was in +high spirits; so that the journey is, as I look back on it, like +a spot of brilliant sunshine in the distant landscape.</p> +<p>Mrs. Fordyce kept house with her father-in-law, little Anne, +and Martyn, whose holidays began a week after we had +started. The two children were allowed to make a desert +island and a robbers’ cave in the beech wood; and the +adventures which their imaginations underwent there completely +threw ours into the shade.</p> +<p>The three ladies and I started in the big Hillside open +carriage, with my brothers on the box and the two fathers on +horseback. Frank Fordyce was a splendid rider, as indeed +was the old rector, who had followed the hounds, made a leap over +a fearful chasm, still known as the Parson’s Stride, and +had been an excellent shot. The renunciation of field +sports had been a severe sacrifice to Frank Fordyce, and showed +of what excellent stuff he was made. He used to say that it +was his own fault that he had to give them up; another man would +have been less engrossed by them. Though he only read by +fits and starts when his enthusiasm was excited, he was thorough, +able, and acute, and his intelligence and sympathy were my +father’s best compensation for the loss of London +society.</p> +<p>The two riders were a great contrast. Mr. Winslow had +the thoroughly well-appointed, somewhat precise, and +highly-polished air of a barrister, and a thin, somewhat worn and +colourless face, with grizzled hair and white whiskers; and +though he rode well, with full command of his horse, he was old +enough to have chosen Chancery for her sterling qualities. +Parson Frank, on the other hand, though a thorough gentleman, was +as ruddy and weather-browned as any farmer, and—albeit his +features were handsome and refined, and his figure well poised +and athletic—he lost something of dignity by easiness of +gesture and carelessness of dress, except on state occasions, +when he discarded his beloved rusty old coat and Oxford mixture +trousers, and came out magnificent enough for an archdeacon, if +not an archbishop; while his magnificent horse, Cossack, was an +animal that a sporting duke might have envied.</p> +<p>Nothing ever tired that couple, but my father had stipulated +for exchanges with Griffith. On these occasions it almost +invariably happened that there was a fine view for Ellen to see, +so that she was exalted to the box with Griffith to show it to +her, and Chancery was consigned to Clarence. Griff was wont +to say that Chancery deserved her name, and that he would defy +the ninety-ninth part of a tailor to come to harm with her; but +Clarence was utterly unpractised in riding, did not like it, was +tormented lest Cossack’s antics should corrupt Chancery, +and was mortally afraid of breaking the knees of the precious +mare. Not all Parson Frank’s good advice and kindly +raillery would induce him to risk riding her on a descent; and as +our travels were entirely up and down hill, he was often left +leading her far behind, in hot sun or misty rain, and then would +come cantering hastily up, reckless of parallels with John +Gilpin, and only anxious to be in time to help me out at the +halting-place; but more than once only coming in when the +beefsteaks were losing their first charm, and then +good-humouredly serving as the general butt for his noble +horsemanship. Did any one fully comprehend how much +pleasanter our journey was through the presence of one person +entirely at the service of the others? For my own part, it +made an immense difference to have one pair of strong arms and +dextrous well-accustomed hands always at my service, enabling me +to accomplish what no one else, kind as all were, would have +ventured on letting me attempt. Primarily, he was my +devoted slave; but he was at the beck and call of every one, +making the inquiries, managing the bargains, going off in search +of whatever was wanting—taking in fact all the ‘must +be dones’ of the journal. The contemplation of +Cossack and Chancery being rubbed down, and devouring their oats +was so delightful to Frank Fordyce and Griffith that they seldom +wished to shirk it; but if there were any more pleasing +occupation, it was a matter of course that Clarence should watch +to see that the ostlers did their duty by the animals—an +obsolete ceremony, by the bye. He even succeeded in hunting +up and hiring a side saddle when the lovers, with the +masterfulness of their nature, devised appropriating the horses +at all the most beautiful places, in spite of Frank’s +murmur, ‘What will mamma say?’ But, as Griff +said, it was a real mercy, for Ellen was infinitely more at her +ease with Chancery than was Clarence. Then Emily had +Clarence to walk up the hills with her, and help her in +botany—her special department in our tour. Mine was +sketching, Ellen’s, keeping the journal, though we all +shared in each other’s work at times; and Griff, whose line +was decidedly love-making, interfered considerably with us all, +especially with our chronicler. I spare you the tour, young +people; it lies before me on the table, profusely illustrated and +written in many hands. As I turn it over, I see noble +Dunster on its rock; Clarence leading Chancery down Porlock Hill; +Parson Frank in vain pursuit of his favourite ancient hat over +that wild and windy waste, the sheep running away from him; a +boat tossing at lovely Minehead; a ‘native’ +bargaining over a crab with my mother; the wonderful Valley of +Rocks, and many another scene, ludicrous or grand; for, indeed, +we were for ever taking the one step between the sublime and the +ridiculous! I am inclined to believe it is as well worth +reading as many that have rushed into print, and it is full of +precious reminiscences to Emily and me; but the younger +generation may judge for itself, and it would be an interruption +here. The country we saw was of utterly unimagined beauty +to the untravelled eyes of most of us. I remember Ellen +standing on Hartland Point, with her face to the infinite expanse +of the Atlantic, and waving back Griff with ‘Oh, +don’t speak to me.’ Yet the sea was a delight +above all to my mother and Clarence. To them it was a +beloved friend; and magnificent as was Lynmouth, wonderful as was +Clovelly, and glorious as was Hartland, I believe they would +equally have welcomed the waves if they had been on the flattest +of muddy shores! The ripple, plash, and roar were as +familiar voices, the salt smell as native air; and my mother +never had thawed so entirely towards Clarence as when she found +him the only person who could thoroughly participate her +feeling.</p> +<p>At Minehead they stayed out, walking up and down together in +the summer twilight till long after every one else was tired out, +and had gone in; and when at last they appeared she was leaning +on Clarence’s arm, an unprecedented spectacle!</p> +<p>At Appledore, the only place on that rugged coast where +boating tempted them, there was what they called a pretty little +breeze, but quite enough to make all the rest of us decline +venturing out into Bideford bay. They, however, found a +boatman and made a trip, which was evidently such enjoyment to +them, that my father, who had been a little restless and uneasy +all the time, declared on their return that he felt quite jealous +of Neptune, and had never known what a cruelty he was committing +in asking a sea-nymph to marry a London lawyer.</p> +<p>Mr. Fordyce told him he was afraid of being like the fisherman +who wedded a mermaid, and made Ellen tell the story in her own +pretty way; but while we were laughing over it, I saw my mother +steal her hand into my father’s and give it a strong +grasp. Such gestures, which she denominated pawing, when +she witnessed them in Emily, were so alien to her in general that +no doubt this little action was infinitely expressive to her +husband. She was wonderfully softened, and Clarence implied +to me that it was the first time she had ever seemed to grieve +for him more than she despised him, or to recognise his +deprivation more than his disgrace,—implied, I say, for the +words he used were little more than—‘You can’t +think how nice she was to me.’</p> +<p>The regaining of esteem and self-respect was lessening +Clarence’s bashfulness, and bringing out his powers of +conversation, so that he began to be appreciated as a pleasant +companion, answering Griff’s raillery in like fashion, and +holding his own in good-natured repartee. Mr. Fordyce got +on excellently with him in their tête-à-têtes +(who would not with Parson Frank?), and held him in higher +estimation than did Ellen. To her, honesty was common, +tame, and uninteresting in comparison with heroism; and +Griff’s vague statement that Clarence was the best brother +in the world did not go for much. Emily and I longed to get +the two better acquainted, but it did not become possible while +Griff absorbed the maiden as his exclusive property.</p> +<p>The engagement was treated as an avowed and settled thing, +though I do not know that there had been a formal ratification by +the parents; but in truth Mrs. Fordyce must have tacitly yielded +her consent when she permitted her daughter to make the journey +under the guardianship of Parson Frank. After a walk in the +ravine of Lynton, we became aware of a ring upon Ellen’s +finger; and Emily was allowed at night to hear how and when it +had been put on.</p> +<p>Ellen only slightly deepened her lovely carnation tints when +her father indulged in a little tender teasing and lamentation +over himself. She was thoroughly happy and proud of her +hero, and not ashamed of owning it.</p> +<p>There was one evening when she and I were sitting with our +sketchbooks in the shade on the beech at Ilfracombe, while the +rest had gone, some to bathe, the others to make purchases in the +town. We had been condoling with one another over the +impossibility of finding anything among our water-colours that +would express the wondrous tints before our eyes.</p> +<p>‘No, nothing can do it,’ I said at last; ‘we +can only make a sort of blot to assist our memories.’</p> +<p>‘Sunshine outside and in!’ said Ellen. +‘The memory of such days as these can never fade +away,—no, nor thankfulness for them, I hope.’</p> +<p>Something then passed about the fact that it was quite +possible to go on in complete content in a quiet monotonous life, +in an oyster-like way, till suddenly there was an unveiling and +opening of unimagined capacities of enjoyment—as by a scene +like this before us, by a great poem, an oratorio, or, as I +supposed, by Niagara or the Alps. Ellen put +it—‘Oh! and by feelings for the great and +good!’ Dear girl, her colour deepened, and I am sure +she meant her bliss in her connection with her hero. +Presently, however, she passed on to saying how such revelations +of unsuspected powers of enjoyment helped one to enter into what +was meant by ‘Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither +hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive, the things +that God hath prepared for them that love him.’ Then +there was a silence, and an inevitable quoting of the +<i>Christian Year</i>, the guide to all our best +thoughts—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘But patience, there may come a +time.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And then a turning to the ‘Ode to Immortality,’ +for Wordsworth was our second leader, and we carried him on our +tour as our one secular book, as Keble was our one religious +book. We felt that the principal joy of all this beauty and +delight was because there was something beyond. Presently +Ellen said, prettily and shyly, ‘I am sure all this has +opened much more to me than I ever thought of. I always +used to be glad that we had no brothers, because our cousins were +not always pleasant with us; but now I have learnt what valuable +possessions they are,’ she added, with the sweetest, +prettiest glance of her bright eyes.</p> +<p>I ventured to say that I was glad she said they, and hoped it +was a sign that she was finding out Clarence.</p> +<p>‘I have found out that I behaved so ill to him that I +have been ashamed ever since to look at him or speak to +him,’ said Ellen; ‘I long to ask his pardon, but I +believe that would distress him more than anything.’</p> +<p>In which she was right; and I was able to tell her of the +excuses there had been for the poor boy, how he had suffered, and +how he had striven to conquer his failings; and she replied that +the words ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged,’ always +smote her with the remembrance of her disdainfully cantering past +him. There was a tear on her eye-lashes, and it drew from +me an apology for having brought a painful recollection into our +bright day.</p> +<p>‘There must be shade to throw up the lights,’ she +said, with her sparkling look.</p> +<p>Was it shade that we never fell into one of these grave talks +when Griffith was present, and that the slightest approach to +them was sure to be turned by him into jest?</p> +<p>We made our journey a little longer than we intended, crossing +the moors so as to spend a Sunday at Exeter; but Frank Fordyce +left us, not liking to give his father the entire duty of a third +Sunday.</p> +<p>Emily says she has come to have a superstition that extensions +of original plans never turn out well, and certainly some of the +charm of our journey departed with the merry, genial Parson +Frank. Our mother was more anxious about Ellen, and put +more restrictions on the lovers than when the father was present +to sanction their doings. Griffith absolutely broke out +against her in a way he had never ventured before, when she +forbade Ellen’s riding with him when he wanted to hire a +horse at Lydford and take an excursion on the moor before joining +us at Okehampton.</p> +<p>My father looked up, and said, ‘Griffith, I am surprised +at you.’ He was constrained to mutter some apology, +and I believe Ellen privately begged my mother’s pardon, +owning her to have been quite right; but, by the dear girl, the +wonderful cascade and narrow gorge were seen through swollen +eyes. And poor Clarence must have had a fine time of it +when Griffith had to ride off with him <i>faute de mieux</i>.</p> +<p>All was cleared off, however, when we met again, for +Griff’s storms were very fleeting, and Ellen treated him as +if she had to make her own peace with him. She sacrificed +her own enjoyment of Exeter Cathedral to go about with him when +he had had enough of it, but on Sunday afternoon she altogether +declined to walk with him till after the second service. He +laughed at her supposed passion for sacred music, and offered to +wait with her to hear the anthem from the nave. +‘No,’ she said, ‘that would be amusing +ourselves instead of worshipping.’</p> +<p>‘We’ve done our devoir in that way already,’ +said Griff. ‘Paid our dues.’</p> +<p>‘One can’t,’ cried Ellen, with an eager +look. ‘One longs to do all the more when He has just +let us have such a taste of His beautiful things.’</p> +<p>‘<i>One</i>, perhaps, when one is a little saint,’ +returned Griff.</p> +<p>‘Oh don’t, Griff! I’m not <i>that</i>; +but you know every one wants all the help and blessing that can +be got. And then it is so delightful!’</p> +<p>He gave a long whistle. ‘Every one to his +taste,’ he said; ‘especially you ladies.’</p> +<p>He did come to the Cathedral with us, but he had more than +half spoilt this last Sunday. Did he value her for what was +best in her, or was her influence raising him?</p> +<h2><a name="page229"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +229</span>CHAPTER XXVI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">C. MORBUS, ESQ.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears,<br +/> +The plaintive voice alone she hears,<br /> + Sees but the dying man.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Scott</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>C. <span class="smcap">Morbus</span>, Esq. Such was the +card that some wicked wag, one of Clarence’s fellow-clerks +probably, left at his lodgings in the course of the epidemic +which was beginning its ravages even while we were upon our +pleasant journey—a shade indeed to throw out the light.</p> +<p>In these days, the tidings of a visitation of cholera are +heard with compassion for crowded towns, but without special +alarm for ourselves or our friends, since its conditions and the +mode of combating it have come to be fairly understood.</p> +<p>In 1832, however, it was a disease almost unknown and +unprecedented except in its Indian abode, whence it had advanced +city by city, seaport by seaport, sweeping down multitudes before +it; nor had science yet discovered how to encounter or forestall +it. We heard of it in a helpless sort of way, as if it had +been the plague or the Black Death, and thought of its victims as +doomed.</p> +<p>That terrible German engraving, ‘Death as a Foe,’ +which represents the grisly form as invading a ballroom in Paris, +is an expression of the feeling with which the scourge was +regarded on that first occasion. <i>Two Years Ago</i> gives +some notion of the condition of things in 1849, but by that time +there had been some experience, and means of prevention were +better understood. On the alarm in that year there was a +great inspection of cottages throughout Earlscombe and Hillside, +but in 1832 there was no notion of such precautions. +Nevertheless, on neither visitation, nor any subsequent one, has +the disease come nearer to us than Bristol.</p> +<p>As far as memory serves me, the idea was that wholesome food, +regular habits, and cleanliness were some protection, but one +locality might be as dangerous as another. There had been +cases in London all the spring, but no special anxiety was felt +when Clarence returned to his work in the end of July, much +refreshed and invigorated by his holiday, and with the +understanding that he was to have a rise in position and salary +on Mr. Castleford’s return from Ireland, where he was still +staying with his wife’s relations. Clarence was +received at the office with a kind of shamefaced cordiality, as +if every one would fain forget the way in which he had been +treated; and he was struck by finding that all the talk was of +the advances of the cholera, chiefly at Rotherhithe. And a +great shock awaited him. He went, as soon as business hours +were over, to thank good old Miss Newton for the comfort and aid +she had unwittingly given him, and to tell her from what she had +saved him. Alas! it was the last benefit she was ever to +confer on her old pupil. At the door he was told by a +weeping, terrified maid that she was very ill with cholera, and +that no hope was given. He tried to send up a message, but +she was in a state of collapse and insensible; and when he +inquired the next morning, the gentle spirit had passed away.</p> +<p>He attended her funeral that same evening. Griff said it +was a proof how your timid people will do the most foolhardy +things; but Clarence always held that the good woman had really +done more for him than any one in actually establishing a +contact, so to say, between his spirit and external truth, and he +thought no mark of respect beyond her deserts. She was a +heavy loss to him, for no one else in town gave him the sense of +home kindness; and there was much more to depress him, for +several of his Sunday class were dead, and the school had been +broken up for the time, while the heats and the fruits of August +contributed to raise the mortality.</p> +<p>His return had released a couple more clerks for their +holiday; it was a slack time of year, with less business in hand +than usual, and the place looked empty. Mr. Frith worked on +as usual, but preserved an ungracious attitude, as though he were +either still incredulous or, if convinced against his will, +resolved that ‘that prig of a Winslow’ should not +presume upon his services. Altogether the poor fellow was +quite unhinged, and wrote such dismal bills of mortality, and +meek, resigned forebodings that my father was almost angry, +declaring that he would frighten himself into the sickness; yet I +suppressed a good deal, and never told them of the last will and +testament in which he distributed his possessions amongst +us. Griff said he had a great mind to go and shake old Bill +up and row him well, but he never did.</p> +<p>More than a week passed by, two of Clarence’s regular +days for writing, but no letter came. My mother grew +uneasy, and talked of writing to Mrs. Robson, or, as we still +called her, Gooch; but it was doubtful whether the answer would +contain much information, and it was quite certain that any ill +tidings would be sent to us.</p> +<p>At last we did hear, and found, as we had foreboded, that the +letter had not been written for fear of alarming us, or carrying +infection, though Clarence underlined the words ‘I am +perfectly well.’</p> +<p>Having to take a message into the senior partner’s room, +Clarence had found the old man crouched over the table, writhing +in the unmistakable grip of the deadly enemy. No one else +was available; Clarence had to collect himself, send for the +doctor, and manage the conveyance of the patient to his rooms, +which fortunately adjoined the office; for, through all his +influx of wealth, Mr. Frith had retained the habits and +expenditure of his early struggling days. His old +housekeeper and her drudge showed themselves terrified out of +their senses, and as incapable as unwilling. Naval +experience, and waiting on me, had taught Clarence helpfulness +and handiness; and though this was the very thing that had +appalled his imagination, he seemed, as he said afterwards, +‘to have got beyond his fright’ to the use of his +commonsense. And when at last the doctor came, and talked +of finding a nurse, if possible, for they were scarce articles, +the sufferer only entreated between his paroxysms, ‘Stay, +Winslow! Is Winslow there? Don’t go! +Don’t leave me!’</p> +<p>No nurse was to be found, but to Clarence’s amazement +Gooch arrived. He had sent by the office boy to explain his +absence; and before night the faithful woman descended on him, +intending, as in her old days of authority, simply to put Master +Clarry out of harm’s way, and take the charge upon +herself. Then, as he proved unmanageable and would not +leave his patient, neither would she leave him, and through the +frightful night that ensued, there was quite employment enough +for them both. Gooch fully thought the end would come +before morning, and was murmuring something about a clergyman, +but was cut short by a sharp prohibition. However, +detecting Clarence’s lips moving, the old man said, +‘Eh! speak it out!’ ‘And with difficulty, +feeling as if I were somebody else,’ said Clarence, +‘I did get out some short words of prayer. It seemed +so awful for him to die without any.’</p> +<p>When the doctor came in early morning, the watchers were +astonished to hear that their charge had taken a turn for the +better, and might recover if their admirable care were +continued. The doctor had brought a nurse; but Mr. Frith +would not let her come into the room, and there was plenty of +need for her elsewhere.</p> +<p>Several days of unremitting care followed, during which +Clarence durst not write to us, so little were the laws of +infection understood. Good Mrs. Robson stayed all the time, +and probably saved Clarence from falling a victim to his zeal, +for she looked after him as anxiously as after the sick man; and +with a wondering and thankful heart, he found himself in full +health, when both were set free to return home. Clarence +had written at the beginning of the illness to the only relations +of whose existence or address he was aware, an old sister, Mrs. +Stevens, and a young great-nephew in the office at Liverpool; and +the consequence was the arrival of a sour-looking, old widow +sister, who came to take charge of the convalescence, and, as the +indignant Gooch overheard her say, ‘to prevent that young +Winslow from getting round him.’</p> +<p>There were no signs of such a feat having been performed, +when, the panic being past, my father went up to London with +Griffith, who was to begin eating his terms at the Temple. +He was to share Clarence’s lodgings, for the Robsons had +plenty of room, and Gooch was delighted to extend her cares to +her special favourite, as she already reigned over +Clarence’s wardrobe and table as entirely as in nursery +days; and, to my great exultation, my father said it would be +good for Griffith to be with his brother; and, moreover, we +should hear of the latter. Nothing could be a greater +contrast than his rare notifications or requests, scrawled on a +single side of the quarto sheet, with Clarence’s regular +weekly lines of clerkly manuscript, telling all that could +interest any of us, and covering every available flap up to the +blank circle left for the trim red seal.</p> +<p>Promotion had come to Clarence in the natural course of +seniority, and a small sum, due to him on his coming of age, was +invested in the house of business, so that the two brothers could +take between them all the Robsons’ available rooms. +Clarence’s post was one of considerable trust; but there +were no tokens of special favour, except that Mr. Frith was more +civil to my father than usual, and when he heard of the +arrangement about the lodgings, he snarled out, ‘Hm! +Law student indeed! Don’t let him spoil his +brother!’</p> +<p>Which was so far an expression of gratitude that it showed +that he considered that there was something to be spoilt. +Mr. Castleford, however, showed real satisfaction in the purchase +of a share in the concern for Clarence. His own eldest son +inherited a good deal of his mother’s Irish nature, and was +evidently unfit to be anything but a soldier, and the next was so +young that he was glad to have a promising and trustworthy young +man, from whom a possible joint head of the firm might be +manufactured.</p> +<h2><a name="page236"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +236</span>CHAPTER XXVII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">PETER’S THUNDERBOLT.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>If you can separate yourself and your +misdemeanours you are welcome to the house; if not, an it would +please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you +farewell.’—<i>Twelfth Night</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the early summer of 1833, we had +the opportunity of borrowing a friend’s house in Portman +Square for six weeks, and we were allowed to take Ellen with us +for introduction to the Admiral and other old friends, while we +were to make acquaintance with her connections—the family +of Sir Horace Lester, M.P.</p> +<p>We were very civil; but there were a good many polite +struggles for the exclusive possession of Ellen, whom both +parties viewed as their individual right; and her unselfish +good-humour and brightness must have carried her over more +worries than we guessed at the time.</p> +<p>She had stayed with the Lesters before, but in schoolroom +days. They were indolent and uninterested, and had never +shown her any of the permanent wonders of London, despising these +as only fit for country cousins, whereas we had grown up to think +of them with intelligent affection. To me, however, much +was as new as to Ellen. Country life had done so much for +me that I could venture on what I had never attempted +before. The Admiral said it was getting away from doctors +and their experiments, but I had also done with the afflictions +of attempts at growth in wrong directions. Old friends did +not know me, and more than once, as I sat in the carriage, +addressed me for one of my brothers—a compliment which, +Griff said, turned my head. Happily I was too much +accustomed to my own appearance, and people were too kind, for me +to have much shyness on that score. Our small dinner +parties were great enjoyment to me, and the two girls were very +happy in their little gaieties.</p> +<p>Braham and Catalani, Fanny Kemble, and Turner’s +landscapes at his best, rise in my memory as supreme delights and +revelations in their different lines, and awakening trains of +thought; and then there was that entertainment which Griffith and +Clarence gave us in their rooms, when they regaled us with all +the delicacies of the season, and Peter and Gooch looked all +pride and hospitality! The dining-parlour, or what served +as such, was Griff’s property, as any one could see by the +pictures of horses, dogs, and ladies, the cups, whips, and +boxing-gloves that adorned it; the sitting-room had tokens of +other occupation, in Clarence’s piano, window-box of +flowers, and his one extravagance in engravings from Raffaelle, +and a marine water-colour or two, besides all my own attempts at +family portraits, with a case of well-bound books. Those +two rooms were perfectly redolent of their masters—I say it +literally—for the scent of flowers was in Clarence’s +room, and in Griff’s, the odour of cigars had not wholly +been destroyed even by much airing. For in those days it +was regarded by parents and guardians as an objectionable +thing.</p> +<p>Peter was radiant on that occasion; but a few evenings later, +when all were gone to an evening party except my father and +myself, Mr. Robson was announced as wishing to speak to Mr. +Winslow. After the civilities proper to the visit of an old +servant had passed, he entered with obvious reluctance on the +purpose of his visit, namely, his dissatisfaction with Griff as a +lodger. His wife, he said, would not have had him speak, +she was <i>that</i> attached to Mr. Griffith, it couldn’t +be more if he was her own son; nor was it for want of liking for +the young gentleman on his part, as had known him from a boy, +‘but the wife of one’s bosom must come first, sir, as +stands to reason, and it’s for the good of the young +gentleman himself, and his family, as some one should +speak. I never said one word against it when she would not +be satisfied without running the risk of her life after Mr. +Clarence; hattending of Mr. Frith in the cholery. That was +only her dooty, sir, and I have never a word to say against +dooty: but I cannot see her nearly wore out, and for no good to +nobody.’</p> +<p>It appeared that Mrs. Robson was ‘pretty nigh wore out, +a setting up for Mr. Griffith’s untimely +hours.’ ‘He laughed and coaxed—what I +calls cajoling—did Mr. Griff, to get a latch-key; but we +knows our dooty too well for that, and Mrs. Winslow had made us +faithfully promise, when Master Clarence first came to us, that +he should never have a latch-key,—Mr. Clarence, as had only +been five times later than eleven o’clock, and then he was +going to dine with Mr. Castleford, or to the theayter, and spoke +about it beforehand. If he was not reading to poor Miss +Newton, as was gone, or with some of his language-masters, he was +setting at home with his books and papers, not giving no trouble +to nobody, after he had had his bit of bread and cheese and glass +of beer to his supper.’</p> +<p>Ay, Peter knew what young gentlemen was. He did not +expect to see them all like poor Master Clarence, as had had his +troubles; the very life knocked out of him in his youth, as one +might say. Indeed Peter would be pleased to see him a bit +more sprightly, and taking more to society and hamusements of his +hage. Nor would there be any objection if the late +’ours was only once a week or so, and things was done in a +style fitting the family; but when it came to mostly every night, +often to two or three o’clock, it was too much for Mrs. +Robson, for she would never go to bed, being mortal afraid of +fire, and not always certain that Mr. Griffith was—to +say—fit to put out his candle. ‘What do you +mean, Peter?’ thundered my father, whose brow had been +getting more and more furrowed every moment. ‘Say it +out!—Drunk?’</p> +<p>‘Well sir, no, no, not to say that exactly, but a little +excited, sir, and women is timid. No sir, not to call +intoxicated.’</p> +<p>‘No, that’s to come,’ muttered my +father. ‘Has this often happened?’</p> +<p>Peter did not think that it had been noticed more than three +times at the most; but he went on to offer his candid and +sensible advice that Mr. Griffith should be placed in a family +where there was a gentleman or lady who would have some +hauthority, and could not be put aside with his +good-’umoured haffability—‘You’re an old +fogy, Peter.’ ‘Never mind, Nursey, I’ll +be a good boy next time,’ and the like. ‘It is +a disadvantage you see, sir, to have been in his service, and +’tis for the young gentleman’s own good as I speaks; +but it would be better if he were somewheres else—unless +you would speak to him, sir.’</p> +<p>To the almost needless question whether Clarence had been with +his brother on these occasions, there was a most decided +negative. He had never gone out with Griffith except once +to the theatre, and to dine at the Castlefords, and at first he +had sat up for his return, ‘but it led to words between the +young gentlemen,’ said Peter, whose confidences were +becoming reckless; and it appeared that when Clarence had found +that Gooch would not let him spare her vigil, he had obeyed her +orders and ceased to share it.</p> +<p>Peter was thanked for the revelations, which had been a +grievous effort to him, and dismissed. My father sat still +in great distress and perplexity, asking me whether Clarence had +ever told me anything of this, and I had barely time to answer +‘No’ before Clarence himself came in, from what Peter +called his language-master. He was taking lessons in French +and Spanish, finding a knowledge of these useful in +business. To his extreme distress, my father fell on him at +once, demanding what he knew of the way Griffith was spending his +time, ‘coming home at all sorts of hours in a disreputable +condition. No prevarication, sir,’ he added, as the +only too familiar look of consternation and bewilderment came +over Clarence’s face. ‘You are doing your +brother no good by conniving at his conduct. Speak truth, +if you can,’ he added, with more cruelty than he knew, in +his own suffering.</p> +<p>‘Sir,’ gasped Clarence, ‘I know Griff often +comes home after I am in bed, but I do not know the exact time, +nor anything more.’</p> +<p>‘Is this all you can tell me? Really +all?’</p> +<p>‘All I know—that is—of my own +knowledge,’ said Clarence, recovering a little, but still +unable to answer without hesitation, which vexed my father.</p> +<p>‘What do you mean by that? Do you hear +nothing?’</p> +<p>‘I am afraid,’ said Clarence, ‘that I do not +see as much of him as I had hoped. He is not up till after +I have to be at our place, and he does not often spend an evening +at home. He is such a popular fellow, and has so many +friends and engagements.’</p> +<p>‘Ay, and of what sort? Can’t you tell? or +will you not? I sent him up to you, thinking you a steady +fellow who might influence him for good.’</p> +<p>The colour rushed into Clarence’s face, as he answered, +looking up and speaking low, ‘Have I not forfeited all such +hopes?’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense! You’ve lived down that old story +long ago. You would make your mark, if you only showed a +little manliness and force of character. Griffith was +always fond of you. Can’t you do anything to hinder +him from ruining his own life and that sweet girl’s +happiness?’</p> +<p>‘I would—I would give my life to do so!’ +exclaimed Clarence, in warm, eager tones. ‘I have +tried, but he says I know nothing about it, and it is very dull +at our rooms for him. I have got used to it, but you +can’t expect a fellow like Griff to stay at home, with no +better company than me, and do nothing but read law.’</p> +<p>‘Then you <i>do</i> know,’ began my father; but +Clarence, with full self-possession, said, ‘I think you had +better ask me no more questions, papa. I really know +nothing, or hardly anything, personally of his proceedings. +I went to one supper with him, after going to the play, and did +not fancy it; besides, it almost unfitted me for my +morning’s work; nor does it answer for me to sit up for +him—it only vexes him, as if I were watching +him.’</p> +<p>‘Did you ever see him come home showing traces of +excess?’</p> +<p>‘No!’ said Clarence, ‘I never saw!’ +and, under a stern, distressed look, ‘Once I heard tones +that—that startled me, and Mrs. Robson has grumbled a good +deal—but I think Peter takes it for more than it is +worth.’</p> +<p>‘I see,’ said my father more gently; ‘I will +not press you farther. I believe I ought to be glad that +these habits are only hearsay to you.’</p> +<p>‘As far as I can see,’ said Clarence diffidently, +but quite restored to himself, ‘Griff is only like most of +his set, young men who go into society.’</p> +<p>‘Oh!’ said my father, in a ‘that’s +your opinion’ kind of tone; and as at that moment the yell +of a newsboy was heard in the street, he exclaimed that he must +go and get an evening paper. Clarence made a step to go +instead, but was thrust back, as apparently my father merely +wanted an excuse for rushing into the open air to recover the +shock or to think it over.</p> +<p>Clarence gave a kind of groan, and presently exclaimed, +‘If only untruth were not such a sin!’ and, on my +exclamation of dismay, he added, ‘I don’t think a +blowing up ever does good!’</p> +<p>‘But this state of things should not last.’</p> +<p>‘It will not. It would have come to an end without +Peter’s springing this mine. Griff says he +can’t stand Gooch any longer! And really she does +worry him intolerably.’</p> +<p>‘Peter professed to come without her knowledge or +consent.’</p> +<p>‘Exactly so. It will almost break the good old +soul’s heart for Griff to leave her; but she expects to +have him in hand as if he was in the nursery. She is ever +so much worse than she was with me, and he is really good-nature +itself to laugh off her nagging as he does—about what he +chooses to put on, or eating, or smoking, or leaving his room +untidy, as well as other things.’</p> +<p>‘And those other things? Do you suspect more than +you told papa?’</p> +<p>‘It amounts to no more. Griff likes amusement, and +everybody likes him—that’s all. Yes, I know my +father read law ten hours a day, but his whole nature and +circumstances were different. I don’t believe Griff +could go on in that way.’</p> +<p>‘Not with such a hope before him? You would, +Clarence.’</p> +<p>His face and not his tongue answered me, but he added, +‘Griff is sure of <i>that</i> without so much labour and +trouble.’</p> +<p>‘And do you see so little of him?’</p> +<p>‘I can’t help it. I can’t keep his +hours and do my work. Yes, I know we are drifting apart; I +wish I could help it, but being coupled up together makes it +rather worse than better. It aggravates him, and he will +really get on better without Gooch to worry him, and thrust my +droning old ways down his throat,—as if Prince Hal could +bear to be twitted with “that sober boy, Lord John of +Lancaster.” Not,’ he added, catching himself +up, ‘that I meant to compare him to the madcap +Prince. He is the finest of fellows, if they only would let +him alone.’</p> +<p>And that was all I could get from Clarence.</p> +<h2><a name="page245"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +245</span>CHAPTER XXVIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A SQUIRE OF DAMES.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p> ‘Spited with a +fool—<br /> +Spited and angered both.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Cymbeline</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">This</span> long stay of Ellen’s in +our family had made our fraternal relations with her nearer and +closer. Familiarity had been far from lessening our strong +feeling for her goodness and sweetness. Emily, who knew her +best, used to confide to me little instances of the spirit of +devotion and self-discipline that underlay all her sunny +gaiety—how she never failed in her morning’s devout +readings; how she learnt a verse or two of Scripture every day, +and persuaded Emily to join with her in repeating it ere they +went downstairs for their evening’s pleasure; how she had +set herself a little task of plain work for the poor, which she +did every day in her own room; and the like dutiful habits, which +seemed, as it were, to help her to keep herself in hand, and not +be carried away by what was a whirl of pleasure to her, though a +fashionable young lady would have despised its mildness.</p> +<p>Indeed Lady Peacock, with whom we exchanged calls, made no +secret of her compassion when she found how many parties the +ladies were <i>not</i> going to; and Ellen’s own relations, +the Lesters, would have taken her out almost every night if she +had not staunchly held to her promise to her mother not to go out +more than three evenings in the week, for Mrs. Fordyce knew her +to be delicate, and feared late hours for her. The vexation +her cousins manifested made her feel the more bound to give them +what time she could, at hours when Griffith was not at +liberty. She did not like them to be hurt, and jealous of +us, or to feel forsaken, and she tried to put her affection for +us on a different footing by averring that ‘it was not the +same kind of thing—Emily was her sister.’</p> +<p>One day she had gone to luncheon with the Lesters in Cavendish +Square, and was to be called for in the carriage by me, on the +way to take up the other two ladies, who were shopping in Regent +Street.</p> +<p>Ellen came running downstairs, with her cheeks in a glow under +the pink satin lining of her pretty bonnet, and her eyes +sparkling with indignation, which could not but break forth.</p> +<p>‘I don’t know how I shall ever go there +again!’ she exclaimed; ‘they have no right to say +such things!’ Then she explained. Mary and +Louisa had been saying horrid things about Griffith—her +Griff! It was always their way. Think how Horace had +made her treat Clarence! It was their way and habit to +tease, and call it fun, and she had never minded it before; but +this was too bad. Would not I put it in her power to give a +flat contradiction, such as would make them ashamed of +themselves?</p> +<p>Contradict what?</p> +<p>Then it appeared that the Misses Lester had laughed at her, +who was so very particular and scrupulous, for having taken up +with a regular young man about town. Oh no, <i>they</i> did +not think much of it—no doubt he was only just like other +people; only the funny thing was that it should be Ellen, for +whom it was always supposed that no saint in the calendar, no +knight in all the Waverley novels, would be good enough! +And then, on her hot desire to know what they meant, they quoted +John, the brother in the Guards, as having been so droll about +poor Ellen’s perfect hero, and especially at his +straight-laced Aunt Fordyce having been taken in,—but of +course it was the convenience of joining the estates, and it was +agreeable to see that your very good folk could wink at things +like other people in such a case. Then, when Ellen fairly +drove her inquiries home, in her absolute trust of confuting all +slanders, she was told that Griffith did, what she called +‘all sorts of things—billiards and all +that.’ And even that he was always running after a +horrid Lady Peacock, a gay widow.</p> +<p>‘They went on in fun,’ said Ellen, ‘and +laughed the more when—yes, I am afraid I did—I lost +my temper. No, don’t say I well might, I know I ought +not; but I told them I knew all about Lady Peacock, and that you +were all old friends, even before he rescued her from the Bristol +riots and brought her home to Chantry House; and that only made +Mary merrier than ever, and say, “What, another distressed +damsel? Take care, Ellen; I would not trust such a squire +of dames.” And then Louisa chimed in, “Oh no, +you see this Peacock dame was only conducted, like Princess +Micomicona and all the rest of them, to the feet of his peerless +Dulcinea!” And then I heard the knock, and I was +never so glad in my life!’</p> +<p>‘Well!’ I could not help remarking, ‘I have +heard of women’s spitefulness, but I never believed it till +now.’</p> +<p>‘I really don’t think it was altogether what you +call malice, so much as the Lester idea of fun,’ said +Ellen, recovering herself after her outpouring. ‘A +very odd notion I always thought it was; and Mary and Louisa are +not really ill-natured, and cannot wish to do the harm they might +have done, if I did not know Griff too well.’</p> +<p>Then, after considering a little, she said, blushing, ‘I +believe I have told you more than I ought, Edward—I +couldn’t help having it out; but please don’t tell +any one, especially that shocking way of speaking of mamma, which +they could not really mean.’</p> +<p>‘No one could who knew her.’</p> +<p>‘Of course not. I’ll tell you what I mean to +do. I will write to Mary when we go in, and tell her that I +know she really cares for me enough to be glad that her nonsense +has done no mischief, and, though I was so foolish and wrong as +to fly into a passion, of course I know it is only her way, and I +do not believe one word of it.’</p> +<p>Somehow, as she looked with those radiant eyes full of perfect +trust, I could not help longing not to have heard Peter +Robson’s last night’s complaint; but family feeling +towards outsiders overcomes many a misgiving, and my wrath +against the malignity of the Lesters was quite as strong as if I +had been devoid of all doubts whether Griff wore to all other +eyes the same halo of pure glory with which Ellen invested +him.</p> +<p>Such doubts were very transient. Dear old Griff was too +delightful, too bright and too brave, too ardent and too +affectionate, not to dispel all clouds by the sunshine he carried +about with him. If rest and reliance came with Clarence, +zest and animation came with Griffith. He managed to take +the initiative by declining to remain any longer with the +Robsons, saying they had been spoilt by such a model lodger as +Clarence, who would let Gooch feed him on bread and milk and +boiled mutton, and put on his clean pinafore if she chose to +insist; whereas her indignation, when Griff found fault with the +folding of his white ties, amounted to ‘<i>Et tu +Brute</i>,’ and he really feared she would have had a fit +when he ordered devilled kidneys for breakfast. He was sure +her determination to tuck him up every night and put out his +candle was shortening her life; and he had made arrangements to +share the chambers of a friend who had gone through school and +college with him. There was no objection to the friend, who +had stayed at Chantry House and was an agreeable, lively, young +man, well reported of, satisfactorily connected, fairly +industrious, and in good society, so that Griff was likely to be +much less exposed to temptation of the lower kinds than when left +to his own devices, or only with Clarence, who had neither time +nor disposition to share his amusements.</p> +<p>There was a scene with my father, but in private; and all that +came to general knowledge was that Griff felt himself injured by +any implication that he was given to violent or excessive +dissipation, such as could wreck Ellen’s happiness or his +own character.</p> +<p>He declared with all his heart that immediate marriage would +be the best thing for both, and pleaded earnestly for it; but my +father could not have arranged for it even if the Fordyces would +have consented, and there were matters of business, as well as +other reasons, which made it inexpedient for them to revoke their +decision that the wedding should not take place before Ellen was +of age and Griffith called to the bar.</p> +<p>So we took our young ladies home, loaded with presents for +their beloved school children, of whom Emily said she dreamt, as +the time for seeing them again drew near. After all the +London enjoyment, it was pretty to see the girls’ delight +in the fresh country sights and sounds in full summer glory, and +how Ellen proved to have been hungering after all her dear ones +at home. When we left her at her own door, our last sight +of her was in her father’s arms, little Anne clinging to +her dress, mother and grandfather as close to her as could +be—a perfect tableau of a joyous welcome.</p> +<h2><a name="page251"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +251</span>CHAPTER XXIX.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">LOVE AND OBEDIENCE.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Unless he give me all in change<br /> + I forfeit all things by him;<br /> +The risk is terrible and strange.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Mrs. +Browning</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">You</span> will be weary of my +lengthiness; and perhaps I am lingering too long over the earlier +portion of my narrative. Something is due to the +disproportion assumed in our memories by the first twenty years +of existence—something, perhaps, to reluctance to passing +from comparative sunshine to shadow. There was still a +period of brightness, but it was so uneventful that I have no +excuse for dwelling on it further than to say that Henderson, our +excellent curate, had already made a great difference in the +parish, and it was beginning to be looked on as almost equal to +Hillside. The children were devoted to Emily, who was the +source of all the amenities of their poor little lives. The +needlework of the school was my mother’s pride; and our +church and its services, though you would shudder at them now, +were then thought presumptuously superior ‘for a country +parish.’ They were a real delight and blessing to us, +as well as to many more of the flock, who still, in their old +age, remember and revere Parson Henderson as a sort of +apostle.</p> +<p>The dawning of the new Poor-Law led to investigations which +revealed the true conditions of the peasant’s +life—its destitution, recklessness, and dependence. +We tried to mend matters by inducing families to emigrate, but +this renewed the distrust which had at first beheld in the +schools an attempt to enslave the children. Even accounts, +sent home by the exceptionally enterprising who did go to Canada, +were, we found, scarcely trusted. Amos Bell, who would have +gone, if he had not been growing into my special personal +attendant, was letter-writer and reader to all his relations, and +revealed to us that it had been agreed that no letter should be +considered as genuine unless it bore a certain private +mark. To be sure, the accounts of prosperity might well +sound fabulous to the toilers and moilers at home. Harriet +Martineau’s <i>Hamlets</i>, which we lent to many of our +neighbours, is a fair picture of the state of things. We +much enjoyed those tales, and Emily says they were the only +political economy she ever learnt.</p> +<p>The model arrangements of our vestries led to a summons to my +father and the younger Mr. Fordyce to London, to be examined on +the condition of the pauper, and the working of the old +Elizabethan Poor-Law.</p> +<p>They were absent for about a fortnight of early spring, and +Emily and I could not help observing that our mother was +unusually uncommunicative about my father’s letters; and, +moreover, there was a tremendous revolution of the furniture, a +far more ominous token in our household than any comet.</p> +<p>The truth came on us when the two fathers returned. Mine +told me himself that Frank Fordyce was so much displeased with +Griffith’s conduct that he had declared that the engagement +could not continue with his consent.</p> +<p>This from good-natured, tender-hearted Parson Frank!</p> +<p>I cried out hotly that ‘those Lesters’ had done +this. They had always been set against us, and any one +could talk over Mr. Frank. My father shook his head. +He said Frank Fordyce was not weak, but all the stronger for his +gentleness and charity; and, moreover, that he was quite +right—to our shame and grief be it spoken—quite +right.</p> +<p>It was true that the first information had been given by Sir +Horace Lester, Mrs. Fordyce’s brother, but it had not been +lightly spoken like the daughter’s chatter; and my father +himself had found it only too true, so that he could not +conscientiously call Griffith worthy of such a creature as Ellen +Fordyce.</p> +<p>Poor Griff, he had been idle and impracticable over his legal +studies, which no persuasion would make him view as otherwise +than a sort of nominal training for a country gentleman; nor had +he ever believed or acted upon the fact that the Earlscombe +property was not an unlimited fortune, such as would permit him +to dispense with any profession, and spend time and money like +the youths with whom he associated. Still, this might have +been condoned as part of the effervescence which had excited him +ever since my father had succeeded to the estate, and patience +might still have waited for greater wisdom; but there had been +graver complaints of irregularities, which were forcing his +friend to dissolve partnership with him. There was evidence +of gambling, which he not only admitted, but defended; and, +moreover, he was known at parties, at races, and at the theatre, +as one of the numerous satellites who revolved about that gay and +conspicuous young fashionable widow, Lady Peacock.</p> +<p>‘Yes, Frank has every right to be angry,’ said my +father, pacing the room. ‘I can’t wonder at +him. I should do the same; but it is destroying the best +hope for my poor boy.’</p> +<p>Then he began to wish Clarence had more—he knew not what +to call it—in him; something that might keep his brother +straight. For, of course, he had talked to Clarence and +discovered how very little the brothers saw of one another. +Clarence had been to look for Griff in vain more than once, and +they had only really met at a Castleford dinner-party. In +fact, Clarence’s youthful spirits, and the tastes which +would have made him companionable to Griff, had been crushed out +of him; and he was what more recent slang calls ‘such a +muff,’ that he had perforce drifted out of our elder +brother’s daily life, as much as if he had been a grave +senior of fifty. It was, as he owned, a heavy penalty of +his youthful fall that he could not help his brother more +effectually.</p> +<p>It appeared that Frank Fordyce, thoroughly roused, had had it +out with Griffith, and had declared that his consent was +withdrawn and the engagement annulled. Griff, astounded at +the resolute tone of one whom he considered as the most +good-natured of men, had answered hotly and proudly that he +should accept no dismissal except from Ellen herself, and that he +had done no more than was expected of any young man of position +and estate. On the other indictment he scorned any defence, +and the two had parted in mutual indignation. He had, +however, shown himself so much distressed at the threat of being +deprived of Ellen, that neither my father nor Clarence had the +least doubt of his genuine attachment to her, nor that his +attentions to Lady Peacock were more than the effect of old habit +and love of amusement, and that they had been much +exaggerated. He scouted the bare idea of preferring her to +Ellen; and, in his second interview with my father, was ready to +make any amount of promises of reformation, provided his +engagement were continued.</p> +<p>This was on the last evening before leaving town, and he came +to the coach-office looking so pale, jaded, and unhappy that +Parson Frank’s kind heart was touched; and in answer to a +muttered ‘I’ve been ten thousand fools, sir, but if +you will overlook it I will try to be worthy of her,’ he +made some reply that could be construed into, ‘If you keep +to that, all may yet be well. I’ll talk to her mother +and grandfather.’</p> +<p>Perhaps this was cruel kindness, for, as we well knew, Mrs. +Fordyce was far less likely to be tolerant of a young man’s +failings than was her husband; and she was, besides, a Lester, +and might take the same view.</p> +<p>Abusing the Lesters was our great resource; for we did not +believe either the sailor or the guardsman to be immaculate, and +we knew them to be jealous. We had to remain in ignorance +of what we most wished to know, for Ellen was kept away from us, +and my mother would not let Emily go in search of her. Only +Anne, who was a high-spirited, independent little person, made a +sudden rush upon me as I sat in the garden. She had no +business to be so far from home alone; but, said she, ‘I +don’t care, it is all so horrid. Please, Edward, is +it true that Griff has been so very wicked? I heard the +maids talking, and they said papa had found out that he was a bad +lot, and that he was not to marry Ellen; but she would stick to +him through thick and thin, like poor Kitty Brown who would marry +the man that got transported for seven years.’ +‘Will he be transported, Edward? and would Ellen go too, +like the “nut-brown maid?” Is that what she +cries so about? Not by day, but all night. I know she +does, for her handkerchief is wet through, and there is a wet +place on her pillow always in the morning; but she only says, +“Never mind,” and nobody <i>will</i> tell me. +They only say little girls should not think about such +things. And I am not so very little. I am eight, and +have read the <i>Lay of the Last Minstrel</i> and I know all +about people in love. So you might tell me.’</p> +<p>I relieved Anne’s mind as to the chances of +transportation, and, after considering how many confidences might +be honourably exchanged with the child, I explained that her +father thought Griff had been idle and careless, and not fit as +yet to be trusted with Ellen.</p> +<p>Her parish experience came into play. ‘Does papa +think he would be like Joe Sparks? But then gentlemen +don’t beat their wives, nor go to the public-house, nor let +their children go about in rags.’</p> +<p>I durst not inquire much, but I gathered that there was a +heavy shadow over the house, and that Ellen was striving to do as +usual, but breaking down when alone. Just then Parson Frank +appeared. Anne had run away from him while on a farming +inspection, when the debate over the turnips with the factotum +had become wearisome. He looked grave and sorrowful, quite +unlike his usual hearty self, and came to me, leaning over my +chair, and saying, ‘This is sad work, Edward’; and, +on an anxious venture of an inquiry for Ellen, ‘Poor little +maid, it is very sore work with her. She is a good child +and obedient—wants to do her duty; but we should never have +let it go on so long. We have only ourselves to +thank—taking the family character, you see’—and +he made a kindly gesture towards me. ‘Your father +sees how it is, and won’t let it make a split between +us. I believe that not seeing as much of your sister as +usual is one of my poor lassie’s troubles, but it may be +best—it may be best.’</p> +<p>He lingered talking, unwilling to tear himself away, and ended +by disclosing, almost at unawares, that Ellen had held out for a +long time, would not understand nor take in what she was told, +accepted nothing on Lester authority, declared she understood all +about Lady Peacock, and showed a strength of resistance and +independence of view that had quite startled her parents, by +proving how far their darling had gone from them in heart. +But they still held her by the bonds of obedience; and, by +dealing with her conscience, her mother had obtained from her a +piteous little note—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘<span class="smcap">My dear +Griffith</span>—I am afraid it is true that you have not +always seemed to be doing right, and papa and mamma forbid our +going on as we are. You know I cannot be disobedient. +It would not bring a blessing on you. So I must break off, +though—’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The ‘though’ could be read through an erasure, +followed by the initials, E. M. F.—as if the dismal +conclusion had been felt to be only too true—and there +followed the postscript, ‘Forgive me, and, if we are +patient, it may come right.’</p> +<p>This letter was displayed, when, on the ensuing evening, it +brought Griff down in towering indignation, and trying to prove +the coercion that must have been exercised to extract even thus +much from his darling. Over he went headlong to Hillside to +insist on seeing her, but to encounter a succession of stormy +scenes. Mrs. Fordyce was the most resolute, but was ill for +a week after. The old Rector was gentle, and somewhat +overawed Griff by his compassion, and by representations that +were only too true; and Parson Frank, with his tender heart torn +to pieces, showed symptoms of yielding another probation.</p> +<p>The interview with Ellen was granted. She, however, was +intrenched in obedience. She had promised submission to the +rupture of her engagement, and she kept her word,—though +she declared that nothing could hinder her love, and that she +would wait patiently till her lover had proved himself, to +everybody’s satisfaction, as good and noble as she knew him +to be. When he told her she did not love him she +smiled. She was sure that whatever mistakes there might +have been, he would give no further occasion against himself, and +then every one would see that all had been mere misunderstanding, +and they should be happy again.</p> +<p>Such trust humbled him, and he was ready to make all promises +and resolutions; but he could not obtain the renewal of the +engagement, nor permission to correspond. Only there was +wrung out of Parson Frank a promise that if he could come in two +years with a perfectly unstained, unblotted character, the +betrothal might be renewed.</p> +<p>We were very thankful for the hope and motive, and Griff had +no doubts of himself.</p> +<p>‘One can’t look at the pretty creature and think +of disappointing her,’ he said. ‘She is +altered, you know, Ted; they’ve bullied her till she is +more ethereal than ever, but it only makes her lovelier. I +believe if she saw me kill some one on the spot she would think +it all my generosity; or, if she could not, she would take and +die. Oh no! I’ll not fail her. No, I +won’t; not if I have to spend seven years after the model +of old Bill, whose liveliest pastime is a good long sermon, when +it is not a ghost.’</p> +<h2><a name="page260"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +260</span>CHAPTER XXX.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">UNA OR DUESSA.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Soone as the Elfin knight in presence +came<br /> +And false Duessa, seeming ladye fayre,<br /> +A gentle husher, Vanitie by name,<br /> +Made roome, and passage did for them prepare.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Spenser</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> two families were supposed to +continue on unbroken terms of friendship, and we men did so; but +Mrs. Fordyce told my mother that she had disapproved of the +probation, and Mrs. Winslow was hurt. Though the two girls +were allowed to be together as usual, it was on condition of +silence about Griff; and though, as Emily said, they really had +not been always talking about him in former times, the +prohibition seemed to weigh upon all they said.</p> +<p>Old Mr. Fordyce had long been talking of a round of visits +among relations whom he had not seen for many years; and it was +decided to send Ellen with him, chiefly, no doubt, to prevent +difficulties about Griffith in the long vacation.</p> +<p>There was no embargo on the correspondence with my sister, and +letters full of description came regularly, but how unlike they +were to our journal. They were clear, intelligent, with a +certain liveliness, but no ring of youthful joy, no echo of the +heart, always as if under restraint. Griff was much +disappointed. He had been on his good behaviour for two +months, and expected his reward, and I could not here repeat all +that he said about her parents when he found she was +absent. Yet, after all, he got more pity and sympathy from +Parson Frank than from any one else. That good man actually +sent a message for him, when Emily was on honour to do no such +thing. Poor Emily suffered much in consequence, when she +would neither afford Griff a blank corner of her paper, nor write +even a veiled message; while as to the letters she received and +gave to him, ‘what was the use,’ he said, ‘of +giving him what might have been read aloud by the +town-crier?’</p> +<p>‘You don’t understand, Griff; it is all dear +Ellen’s conscientiousness—’</p> +<p>‘Oh, deliver me from such con-sci-en-tious-ness,’ +he answered, in a tone of bitter mimicry, and flung out of the +room leaving Emily in tears.</p> +<p>He could not appreciate the nobleness of Ellen’s +self-command and the obedience which was the security of future +happiness, but was hurt at what he thought weak alienation. +One note of sympathy would have done much for Griff just +then. I have often thought it over since, and come to the +conclusion that Mrs. Fordyce was justified in the entire +separation she brought about. No one can judge of the +strength with which ‘true love’ has mastered any +individual, nor how far change may be possible; and, on the other +hand, unless there were full appreciation of Ellen’s +character, she might only have been looked on as—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Puppet to a father’s threat,<br /> +Servile to a shrewish tongue.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Yet, after all, Frank Fordyce was very kind to Griff, making +himself as much of a medium of communication as he could +consistently with his conscience, but of course not satisfying +one who believed that the strength of love was to be proved not +by obedience but disobedience.</p> +<p>Ellen’s letters showed increasing anxiety about her +grandfather, who was not favourably affected by the change of +habits, consequent on a long journey, and staying in different +houses. His return was fixed two or three times, and then +delayed by slight attacks of illness, till at last he became +anxious to get home, and set off about the end of September; but +after sleeping a night at an inn at Warwick, he was too ill to +proceed any farther. His old man-servant was with him; but +poor Ellen went through a great deal of suspense and +responsibility before her parents reached her. The attack +was paralysis, and he never recovered the full powers of mind or +body, though they managed to bring him back to Hillside—as +indeed his restlessness longed for his native home. When +once there he became calmer, but did not rally; and a second +stroke proved fatal just before Easter. He was mourned +alike by rich and poor, ‘He <i>was</i> a gentleman,’ +said even Chapman, ‘always the same to rich or poor, though +he was one of they Fordys.’</p> +<p>My father wrote to summon both his elder sons to the funeral +at Hillside, and in due time Clarence appeared by the coach, but +alone. He had gone to Griffith’s chambers to arrange +about coming down together, but found my father’s letter +lying unopened on the table, and learnt that his brother was +supposed to be staying at a villa in Surrey, where there were to +be private theatricals. He had forwarded the letter +thither, and it would still be possible to arrive in time by the +night mail.</p> +<p>So entirely was Griff expected that the gig was sent to meet +him at seven o’clock the next morning, but there was no +sign of him. My father and Clarence went without him to the +gathering, which showed how deeply the good old man was respected +and loved.</p> +<p>It was the only funeral Clarence had attended except Miss +Newton’s hurried one, and his sensitive spirit was greatly +affected. He had learnt reserve when amongst others, but I +found that he had a strong foreboding of evil; he tossed and +muttered in his sleep, and confessed to having had a wretched +night of dreams, though he would not describe them otherwise than +that he had seen the lady whose face he always looked on as a +presage of evil.</p> +<p>Two days later the <i>Morning Post</i> gave a full account of +the amateur theatricals at Bella Vista, the seat of Benjamin +Bullock, Esquire, and the Lady Louisa Bullock; and in the list of +<i>dramatis personæ</i>, there figured Griffith Winslow, +Esquire, as Captain Absolute, and the fair and accomplished Lady +Peacock as Lydia Languish.</p> +<p>Amateur theatricals were much less common in those days than +at present, and were held as the <i>ne plus ultra</i> of +gaiety. Moreover, the Lady Louisa Bullock was noted for +fashionable extravagance of the semi-reputable style; and there +would have been vexation enough at Griffith’s being her +guest, even had not the performance taken place on the very day +of the funeral of Ellen’s grandfather, so as to be an +outrage on decorum.</p> +<p>At the same time, there came a packet franked by a not very +satisfactory peer, brother to Lady Louisa. My father threw +a note over to Clarence, and proceeded to read a very properly +expressed letter full of apologies and condolences for the +Fordyces.</p> +<p>‘He could not have got the letter in time’ was my +father’s comment. ‘When did you forward the +letter? How was it addressed? Clarence, I say, +didn’t you hear?’</p> +<p>Clarence lifted up his face from his letter, so much flushed +that my mother broke in—‘What’s the +matter? A mistake in the post-town would account for the +delay. Has he had the letter?’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes.’</p> +<p>‘Not in time—eh?’</p> +<p>‘I’m afraid,’ and he faltered, ‘he +did.’</p> +<p>‘Did he or did he not?’ demanded my mother.</p> +<p>‘What does he say?’ exclaimed my father.</p> +<p>‘Sir’ (always an unpropitious beginning for poor +Clarence), ‘I should prefer not showing you.’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed my mother: ‘you do no +good by concealing it!’</p> +<p>‘Let me see his letter,’ said my father, in the +voice there was no gainsaying, and absolutely taking it from +Clarence. None of us will ever forget the tone in which he +read it aloud at the breakfast-table.</p> +<blockquote><p>‘<span class="smcap">Dear +Bill</span>—What possessed you to send a death’s-head +to the feast? The letter would have bitten no one in my +chambers. A nice scrape I shall be in if you let out that +your officious precision forwarded it. Of course at the +last moment I could not upset the whole affair and leave Lydia to +languish in vain. The whole thing went off +magnificently. Keep counsel and no harm is done. You +owe me that for sending on the letter.—Yours,</p> +<p style="text-align: right">‘J. G. W.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Clarence had not read to the end when the letter was taken +from him. Indeed to inclose such a note in a dispatch sure +to be opened <i>en famille</i> was one of Griffith’s +haphazard proceedings, which arose from the present being always +much more to him than the absent. Clarence was much shocked +at hearing these last sentences, and exclaimed, ‘He meant +it in confidence, papa; I implore you to treat it as +unread!’</p> +<p>My father was always scrupulous about private letters, and +said, ‘I beg your pardon, Clarence; I should not have +forced it from you. I wish I had not seen it.’</p> +<p>My mother gave something between a snort and a sigh. +‘It is right for us to know the truth,’ she said, +‘but that is enough. There is no need that they +should know at Hillside what was Griffith’s +alternative.’</p> +<p>‘I would not add a pang to that dear girl’s +grief,’ said my father; ‘but I see the Fordyces were +right. I shall never do anything to bring these two +together again.’</p> +<p>My mother chimed in with something about preferring Lady +Peacock and the Bella Vista crew to Ellen and Hillside, which +made us rush into the breach with incoherent defence.</p> +<p>‘I know how it was,’ said Clarence. +‘His acting is capital, and of course these people could +not spare him, nor understand how much it signified that he +should be here. They make so much of him.’</p> +<p>‘Who do?’ asked my mother. ‘Lady +Peacock? How do you know? Have you been with +them?’</p> +<p>‘I have dined at Mr. Clarkson’s,’ Clarence +avowed; and, on further pressure, it was extracted that +Griffith—handsome, and with talents such as tell in +society—was a general favourite, and much engrossed by +people who found him an enlivenment and ornament to their +parties. There had been little or nothing of late of the +former noisy, boyish dissipation; but that the more fashionable +varieties were getting a hold on him became evident under the +cross-questioning to which Clarence had to submit.</p> +<p>My father said he felt like a party to a falsehood when he +sent Griff’s letter up to Hillside, and he indemnified +himself by writing a letter more indignant—not than was +just, but than was prudent, especially in the case of one little +accustomed to strong censure. Indeed Clarence could not +restrain a slight groan when he perceived that our mother was +shut up in the study to assist in the composition. Her +denunciations always outran my father’s, and her pain +showed itself in bitterness. ‘I ought to have had the +presence of mind to refuse to show the letter,’ he said; +‘Griff will hardly forgive me.’</p> +<p>Ellen looked very thin, and with a transparent delicacy of +complexion. She had greatly grieved over her +grandfather’s illness and the first change in her happy +home; and she must have been much disappointed at +Griffith’s absence. Emily dreaded her mention of the +subject when they first met.</p> +<p>‘But,’ said my sister, ‘she said no word of +him. All she cared to tell me was of the talks she had with +her grandfather, when he made her read his favourite chapters in +the Bible; and though he had no memory for outside things, his +thoughts were as beautiful as ever. Sometimes his face grew +so full of glad contemplation that she felt quite awestruck, as +if it were becoming like the face of an angel. It made her +realise, she said, “how little the ups and downs of this +life matter, if there can be such peace at the last.” +And, after all, I could not help thinking that it was better +perhaps that Griff did not come. Any other sort of talk +would have jarred on her just now, and you know he would never +stand much of that.’</p> +<p>Much as we loved our Griff, we had come to the perception that +Ellen was a treasure he could not esteem properly.</p> +<p>The Lester cousins, never remarkable for good taste, forced on +her the knowledge of his employment. Her father could not +refrain from telling us that her exclamation had been, +‘Poor Griff, how shocked he must be! He was so fond +of dear grandpapa. Pray, papa, get Mr. Winslow to let him +know that I am not hurt, for I know he could not help it. +Or may I ask Emily to tell him so?’</p> +<p>I wish Mrs. Fordyce would have absolved her from the promise +not to mention Griff to us. That innocent reliance might +have touched him, as Emily would have narrated it; but it only +rendered my father more indignant, and more resolved to reserve +the message till a repentant apology should come. And, +alas! none ever came. Just wrath on a voiceless paper has +little effect. There is reason to believe that Griff did +not like the air of my father’s letter, and never even read +it. He diligently avoided Clarence, and the pain and shame +his warm heart must have felt only made him keep out of +reach.</p> +<h2><a name="page269"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +269</span>CHAPTER XXXI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">FACILIS DESCENSUS.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘The slippery verge her feet beguiled;<br /> + She tumbled headlong in.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Gray</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">One</span> of Griffith’s briefest +notes in his largest hand announced that he had accepted various +invitations to country houses, for cricket matches, archery +meetings, and the like; nor did he even make it clear where his +address would be, except that he would be with a friend in +Scotland when grouse-shooting began.</p> +<p>Clarence, however, came home for a brief holiday. He was +startled at the first sight of Ellen. He said she was +indeed lovelier than ever, with an added sweetness in her clear +eyes and the wild rose flush in her delicate cheek; but that she +looked as if she was being refined away to nothing, and was more +than ever like the vision with the lamp.</p> +<p>Of course the Fordyces had not been going into society, though +Ellen and Emily were as much together as before, helping one +another in practising their school children in singing, and +sharing in one another’s studies and pursuits. There +had been in the spring a change at Wattlesea; the old incumbent +died, and the new one was well reported of as a very earnest +hardworking man. He seemed to be provided with a large +family, and there was no driving into Wattlesea without seeing +members of it scattered about the place.</p> +<p>The Fordyces being anxious to show them attention without a +regular dinner-party, decided on inviting all the family to keep +Anne’s ninth birthday, and Emily and Martyn were of course +to come and assist at the entertainment.</p> +<p>It was on the morning of the day fixed that a letter came to +me whose contents seemed to burn themselves into my brain. +Martyn called across the breakfast-table, ‘Look at +Edward! Has any one sent you a young basilisk?’</p> +<p>‘I wish it was,’ I gasped out.</p> +<p>‘Don’t look so,’ entreated Emily. +‘Tell us! Is it Griff?’</p> +<p>‘Not ill-hurt?’ cried my mother. ‘Oh +no, no. Worse!’ and then somehow I articulated that +he was married; and Clarence exclaimed, ‘Not the +Peacock!’ and at my gesture my father broke out. +‘He has done for himself, the unhappy boy. A +disgraceful Scotch marriage. Eh?’</p> +<p>‘It was his sense of honour,’ I managed to +utter.</p> +<p>‘Sense of fiddlestick!’ said my poor father. +‘Don’t stop to excuse him. We’ve had +enough of that! Let us hear.’</p> +<p>I cannot give a copy of the letter. It was so painful +that it was destroyed; for there was a tone of bravado betraying +his uneasiness, but altogether unbecoming. All that it +disclosed was, that some one staying in the same house had paid +insulting attentions to Lady Peacock; she had thrown herself on +our brother’s protection, and after interfering on her +behalf, he had found that there was no means of sheltering her +but by making her his wife. This had been effected by the +assistance of the lady of the house where they had been staying; +and Griffith had written to me two days later from Edinburgh, +declaring that Selina had only to be known to be loved, and to +overcome all prejudices.</p> +<p>‘Prejudices,’ said my father bitterly. +‘Prejudices in favour of truth and honour.’</p> +<p>And my mother uttered the worst reproach of all, when in my +agitation, I slipped and almost fell in rising—‘Oh, +my poor Edward! that I should have lived to think yours the least +misfortune that has befallen my sons!’</p> +<p>‘Nay, mother,’ said Clarence, putting Martyn +toward her, ‘here is one to make up for us all.’</p> +<p>‘Clarence,’ said my father, ‘your mother did +not mean anything but that you and Edward are the comfort of our +lives. I wish there were a chance of Griffith redeeming the +past as you have done; but I see no hope of that. A man is +never ruined till he is married.’</p> +<p>At that moment there was a step in the hall, a knock at the +door, and there stood Mr. Frank Fordyce. He looked at us +and said, ‘It is true then.’</p> +<p>‘To our shame and sorrow it is,’ said my +father. ‘Fordyce, how can we look you in the +face?’</p> +<p>‘As my dear good friend, and my father’s,’ +said the kind man, shaking him by the hand heartily. +‘Do you think we could blame you for this youth’s +conduct? Stay’—for we young ones were about to +leave the room. ‘My poor girl knows nothing +yet. Her mother luckily got the letter in her +bedroom. We can’t put off the Reynoldses, you know, +so I came to ask the young people to come up as if nothing had +happened, and then Ellen need know nothing till the day is +over.’</p> +<p>‘If I can,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘You can be capable of self-command, I hope,’ said +my mother severely, ‘or you do not deserve to be called a +friend.’</p> +<p>Such speeches might not be pleasant, but they were bracing, +and we all withdrew to leave the elders to talk it over together, +when, as I believe, kind Parson Frank was chiefly concerned to +argue my parents out of their shame and humiliation.</p> +<p>Clarence told us what he knew or guessed; and we afterwards +understood the matter to have come about chiefly through poor +Griff’s weakness of character, and love of amusement and +flattery. The boyish flirtation with Selina Clarkson had +never entirely died away, though it had been nothing more than +the elder woman’s bantering patronage and easy acceptance +of the youth’s equally gay, jesting admiration. It +had, however, involved some raillery on his attachment to the +little Methodistical country girl, and this gradually grew into +jealousy of her—especially as Griff became more of a man, +and a brilliant member of society. The detention from the +funeral had been a real victory on the widow’s part, and +the few times when Clarence had seen them together he had been +dismayed at the <i>cavaliere serviente</i> terms on which Griff +seemed to stand; but his words of warning were laughed +down. The rest was easy to gather. He had gone about +on the round of visits almost as an appendage to Lady Peacock, +till they came to a free and easy house, where her coquetry and +love of admiration brought on one of those disputes which +rendered his championship needful; and such defence could only +have one conclusion, especially in Scotland, where hasty private +marriages were still legal. What an exchange! Only +had Griff ever comprehended the worth of his treasure?</p> +<p>Emily went as late as she could, that there might be the less +chance of a tête-à-tête, in which she might be +surprised into a betrayal of her secret: indeed she only started +at last when Martyn’s impatience had become +intolerable.</p> +<p>What was our amazement when, much earlier than we expected, we +saw Mr. Fordyce driving up in his phaeton, and heard the story he +had to tell.</p> +<p>Emily’s delay had succeeded in bringing her only just in +time for the luncheon that was to be the children’s +dinner. There was a keen-looking, active, sallow clergyman, +grizzled, and with an air of having seen much service; a pale, +worn wife, with a gentle, sensible face; and a bewildering flock +of boys and girls, all apparently under the command of a very +brisk, effective-looking elder sister of fourteen or fifteen, who +seemed to be the readiest authority, and to decide what and how +much each might partake of, among delicacies, evidently rare +novelties.</p> +<p>The day was late in August. The summer had broken; there +had been rain, and, though fine, the temperature was fitter for +active sports than anything else. Croquet was not yet +invented, and, besides, most of the party were of the age for +regular games at play. Ellen and Emily did their part in +starting these—finding, however, that the Reynolds boys +were rather rough, in spite of the objurgations of their sister, +who evidently thought herself quite beyond the age for +romps. The sports led them to the great home-field on the +opposite slope of the ridge from our own. The new +farm-buildings were on the level ground at the bottom to the +right, where the declivity was much more gradual than to the +left, which was very steep, and ended in furze bushes and low +copsewood. It was voted a splendid place for hide-and-seek, +and the game was soon in such full career that Ellen, who had had +quite running enough, could fall out of it, and with her, the +other two elder girls. Emily felt Fanny Reynolds’ +presence a sort of protection, ‘little guessing what she +was up to,’ to use her own expression. Perhaps the +girl had not earlier made out who Emily was, or she had been too +much absorbed in her cares; but, as the three sat resting on a +stump overlooking the hill, she was prompted by the singular +inopportuneness of precocious fourteen to observe, ‘I ought +to have congratulated you, Miss Winslow.’</p> +<p>Emily gabbled out, ‘Thank you, never mind,’ hoping +thus to put a stop to whatever might be coming; but there was no +such good fortune. ‘We saw it in the paper. It +is your brother, isn’t it?’</p> +<p>‘What?’ asked unsuspicious Ellen, thinking, no +doubt, of some fresh glory to Griffith.</p> +<p>And before Emily could utter a word, if there were any she +could have uttered, out it came. ‘The +marriage—John Griffith Winslow, Esquire, eldest son of John +Edward Winslow of Chantry House, to Selina, relict of Sir Henry +Peacock and daughter of George Clarkson, Esquire, Q.C. I +didn’t think it could be you at first, because you would +have been at the wedding.’</p> +<p>Emily had not even time to meet Ellen’s eyes before they +were startled by a shriek that was not the merry +‘whoop’ and ‘I spy’ of the game, and, +springing up, the girls saw little Anne Fordyce rushing headlong +down the very steepest part of the slope, just where it ended in +an extremely muddy pool, the watering-place of the cattle. +The child was totally unable to stop herself, and so was Martyn, +who was dashing after her. Not a word was said, though, +perhaps, there was a shriek or two, but the elder sisters flew +with one accord towards the pond. They also were some way +above it, but at some distance off, so that the descent was not +so perpendicular, and they could guard against over-running +themselves. Ellen, perhaps from knowing the ground better, +was far before the other two; but already poor little Anne had +gone straight down, and fallen flat on her face in the water, +Martyn after her, perhaps with a little more free will, for, +though he too fell, he was already struggling to lift Anne up, +and had her head above water, when Ellen arrived and dashed in to +assist.</p> +<p>The pond began by being shallow, but the bottom sloped down +into a deep hollow, and was besides covered several feet deep +with heavy cattle-trodden mire and weeds, in which it was almost +impossible to gain a footing, or to move. By the time Emily +and Miss Reynolds had come to the brink, Ellen and Martyn were +standing up in the water, leaning against one another, and +holding poor little Anne’s head up—all they could +do. Ellen called out, ‘Don’t! don’t come +in! Call some one! The farm! We are sinking +in! You can’t help! Call—’</p> +<p>The danger was really terrible of their sinking in the mud and +weeds, and being sucked into the deep part of the pool, and they +were too far in to be reached from the bank. Emily +perceived this, and ran as she had never run before, happily +meeting on the way with the gentlemen, who had been inspecting +the new model farm-buildings, and had already taken alarm from +the screams.</p> +<p>They found the three still with their heads above water, but +no more, for every struggle to get up the slope only plunged them +deeper in the horrible mud. Moreover, Fanny Reynolds was up +to her ankles in the mud, holding by one of her brothers, but +unable to reach Martyn. It seems she had had some idea of +forming a chain of hands to pull the others out.</p> +<p>Even now the rescue was not too easy. Mr. Fordyce +hurried in, and took Anne in his arms; but, even with his height +and strength, he found his feet slipping away under him, and +could only hand the little insensible girl to Mr. Reynolds, +bidding him carry her at once to the house, while he lifted +Martyn up only just in time, and Ellen clung to him. Thus +weighted, he could not get out, till the bailiff and another man +had brought some faggots and a gate that were happily near at +hand, and helped him to drag the two out, perfectly exhausted, +and Martyn hardly conscious. They both were carried to the +Rectory,—Ellen by her father, Martyn by the +foreman,—and they were met at the door by the tidings that +little Anne was coming to herself.</p> +<p>Indeed, by the time Mr. Fordyce had put on dry clothes, all +three were safe in warm beds, and quite themselves again, so that +he trusted that no mischief was done; though he decided upon +fetching my mother to satisfy herself about Martyn. +However, a ducking was not much to a healthy fellow like Martyn, +and my mother found him quite fit to dress himself in the clothes +she brought, and to return home with her. Both the girls +were asleep, but Ellen had had a shivering fit, and her mother +was with her, and was anxious. Emily told her mother of +Fanny Reynolds’ unfortunate speech, and it was thought +right to mention it. Mrs. Fordyce listened kindly, kissed +Emily, and told her not to be distressed, for possibly it might +turn out to have been the best thing for Ellen to have learnt the +fact at such a moment; and, at any rate, it had spared her +parents some doubt and difficulty as to the communication.</p> +<h2><a name="page278"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +278</span>CHAPTER XXXII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">WALY, WALY.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘And am I then forgot, forgot?<br /> +It broke the heart of Ellen!’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Campbell</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Clarence</span> and Martyn walked over to +Hillside the first thing the next morning to inquire for the two +sisters. As to one, they were quickly reassured, for Anne +was in the porch feeding the doves, and no sooner did she see +them than out she flew, and was clinging round Martyn’s +neck, her hat falling back as she kissed him on both cheeks, with +an eagerness that made him, as Clarence reported, turn the colour +of a lobster, and look shy, not to say sheepish, while she +exclaimed, ‘ Oh, Martyn! mamma says she never thanked you, +for you really and truly did save my life, and I am so glad it +was you—’</p> +<p>‘It was not I, it was Ellen,’ gruffly muttered +Martyn.</p> +<p>‘Oh yes! but papa says I should have been smothered in +that horrid mud, before Ellen could get to me if you had not +pulled me up directly.’</p> +<p>The elders came out by this time, and Clarence was able to get +in his inquiry. Ellen had had a feverish night, and her +chest seemed oppressed, but her mother did not think her +seriously ill. Once she had asked, ‘Is it true, what +Fanny Reynolds said?’ and on being answered, ‘Yes, my +dear, I am afraid it is,’ she had said no more; and as the +Fordyce habit of treating colds was with sedatives, her mother +thought her scarcely awake to the full meaning of the tidings, +and hoped to prevent her dwelling on them till she had recovered +the physical shock. Having answered these inquiries, the +two parents turned upon Martyn, who, in an access of +shamefacedness, had crept behind Clarence and a great +orange-tree, and was thence pulled out by Anne’s vigorous +efforts. The full story had come to light. The +Reynolds’ boys had grown boisterous as soon as the +restraint of the young ladies’ participation had been +removed, and had, whether intentionally or not, terrified little +Anne in the chases of hide-and-seek. Finally, one of them +had probably been unable to withstand the temptation of seeing +her timid nervous way of peeping and prying about; and had, +without waiting to be properly found, leapt out of his lair with +a roar that scared the little girl nearly out of her wits, and +sent her flying, she knew not whither. Martyn was a few +steps behind, only not holding her hand, because the other +children had derided her for clinging to his protection. He +had instantly seen where she was going, and shouted to her to +stop and take care; but she was past attending to him, and he had +no choice but to dart after her, seeing what was inevitable; +while George Reynolds had sense to stop in time, and seek a safer +descent. Had Martyn not been there to raise the child +instantly from the stifling mud, her sister could hardly have +been in time to save her.</p> +<p>Mrs. Fordyce tearfully kissed him; her husband called him a +little hero, as if in joke, then gravely blessed him; and he +looked, Clarence related, as if he had been in the greatest +possible disgrace.</p> +<p>It was the second time that one of us had saved a life from +drowning, but there was none of the exultation we had felt that +time before in London. It was a much graver feeling, where +the danger had really been greater, and the rescue had been of +one so dear to us. It was tempered likewise by anxiety +about our dear Ellen—ours, alas, no longer! She was +laid up for several days, and it was thought better that she +should not see Emily till she had recovered; but after a week had +passed, her father drove over to discuss some plans for the +Poor-Law arrangements, and begged my sister to go back in the +carriage and spend the day with his daughter.</p> +<p>We brothers could now look forward to some real intelligence; +we became restless; and in the afternoon Clarence and I set out +with the donkey-chair on the woodland path to meet Emily. +We gained more than we had hoped, for as we came round one of the +turns in the winding path, up the hanging beech-wood, we came on +the two friends—Ellen, a truly Una-like figure, in her +white dress with her black scarf making a sable stole. +Perhaps we betrayed some confusion, for there was a bright flush +on her cheeks as she came towards us, and, standing straight up, +said, ‘Clarence, Edward, I am so glad you are here; I +wanted to see you. I wanted—to say—I know he +could not help it. It was his generosity—helping +those that need it; and—and—I’m not +angry. And though that’s all over, you’ll +always be my brothers, won’t you?’</p> +<p>She held her outstretched hands to us both. I could not +help it, I drew her down, and kissed her brow; Clarence clasped +her other hand and held it to his lips, but neither of us could +utter a word.</p> +<p>She turned back and went quietly away through the wood, while +Emily sank down under the beech-tree in a paroxysm of +grief. You may see which it was, for Clarence cut out +‘E. M. F., 1835’ upon the bark. He soothed and +caressed poor Emily as in old nursery troubles; and presently she +told us that it would be long before we saw that dear one again, +for Mrs. Fordyce was going to take her away on the morrow.</p> +<p>Mrs. Fordyce had seen Emily in private, before letting her go +to Ellen. There was evidently a great wish to be +kind. Mrs. Fordyce said she could never forget what she +owed to us all, and could not think of blaming any of us. +‘But,’ she said, ‘you are a sensible girl, +Emily,’—‘how I hate being called a sensible +girl,’ observed the poor child, in +parenthesis,—‘and you must see that it is desirable +not to encourage her to indulge in needless discussion after she +once understands the facts.’ She added that she +thought a cessation of present intercourse would be wise till the +sore was in some degree healed. She had not been satisfied +about her daughter’s health for some time, and meant to +take her to Bath the next day to consult a physician, and then +decide what would be best. ‘And, my dear,’ she +said, ‘if there should be a slackening of correspondence, +do not take it as unkindness, but as a token that my poor child +is recovering her tone. Do not discontinue writing to her, +but be guarded, and perhaps less rapid, in replying.’</p> +<p>It was for her friendship that poor Emily wept so +bitterly—the first friendship that had been an enthusiasm +to her; looking at it as a cruel injustice that Griff’s +misdoing should separate them. The prediction that all +might be lived down and forgotten was too vague and distant to be +much consolation; indeed, we were too young to take it in.</p> +<p>We had it all over again in a somewhat grotesque form when, at +another turn in the wood, we came upon Martyn and Anne, loaded +with treasures from their robbers’ cave, some of which were +bestowed in my chair, the others carried off between Anne and her +not very willing nursery-maid.</p> +<p>Anne kissed us all round, and augured cheerfully that she +should lay up a store of shells and rocks by the seaside to make +‘a perfect Robinson Crusoe cavern,’ she said, +‘and then Clarence can come and be the Spaniards and the +savages. But that won’t be till next summer,’ +she added, shaking her head. ‘I shall get Ellen to +tell Emily what shells I find, and then she can tell Martyn; for +mamma says girls never write to boys unless they are their +brothers! And now Martyn will never be my brother,’ +she added ruefully.</p> +<p>‘You will always be our darling,’ I said.</p> +<p>‘That’s not the same as your sister,’ she +answered. However, amid auguries of the combination of +robbers and Robinson Crusoe, the parting was effected, and Anne +borne off by the maid; while we had Martyn on our hands, stamping +about and declaring that it was very hard that because Griff +chose to be a faithless, inconstant ruffian, all his pleasure and +comfort in life should be stopped! He said such outrageous +things that, between scolding him and laughing at him, Emily had +been somewhat cheered by the time we reached the house.</p> +<p>My father had written to Griffith, in his first displeasure, +curt wishes that he might not have reason to repent of the step +he had taken, though he had not gone the right way to obtain a +blessing. As it was not suitable that a man should be +totally dependent on his wife, his allowance should be continued; +but under present circumstances he must perceive that he and Lady +Peacock could not be received at Chantry House. We were +shown the letter, and thought it terribly brief and cold; but my +mother said it would be weak to offer forgiveness that was not +sought, and my father was specially exasperated at the absence of +all contrition as to the treatment of Ellen. All Griff had +vouchsafed on that head was—the rupture had been the +Fordyces’ doing; he was not bound. As to intercourse +with him, Clarence and I might act as we saw fit.</p> +<p>‘Only,’ said my father, as Clarence was leaving +home, ‘I trust you not to get yourself involved in this +set.’</p> +<p>Clarence gave a queer smile, ‘They would not take me as +a gift, papa.’</p> +<p>And as my father turned from the hall door, he laid his hand +on his wife’s arm, and said, ‘Who would have told us +what that young fellow would be to us.’</p> +<p>She sighed, and said, ‘He is not twenty-three; he has +plenty of money, and is very fond of Griff.’</p> +<h2><a name="page284"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +284</span>CHAPTER XXXIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE RIVER’S BANK.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘And my friend rose up in the shadows,<br /> + And turned to me,<br /> +“Be of good cheer,” I said faintly,<br /> + For He called thee.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right">B. M.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Fordyce</span> waited at Hillside till +after Sunday, and then went to Bath to hear the verdict of the +physician. He returned as much depressed as it was in his +sanguine nature to be, for great delicacy of the lungs had been +detected; and to prevent the recent chill from leaving permanent +injury, Ellen must have a winter abroad, and warm sea or mountain +air at once. Whether the disease were constitutional and +would have come on at all events no one could tell.</p> +<p>Consumption was much less understood half a century ago; +codliver oil was unknown; and stethoscopes were new inventions, +only used by the more advanced of the faculty. The only +escape poor Parson Frank had from accepting the doom was in +disbelieving that a thing like a trumpet could really reveal the +condition of the chest. Moreover, Mrs. Fordyce had had a +brother who had, under the famous cowhouse cure, recovered enough +to return home, and be killed by the upsetting of a stage +coach.</p> +<p>Mrs. Fordyce took her daughter to Lyme, and waited there till +her husband had found a curate and made all arrangements. +It must have been very inconvenient not to come home; but, no +doubt, she wanted to prevent any more partings. Then they +went abroad, travelling slowly, and seeing all the sights that +came in their way, to distract Ellen’s thoughts. She +was not allowed to hear what ailed her; but believed her languor +and want of interest in everything to be the effect of the blow +she had received, struggling to exert herself, and to enter +gratefully into the enjoyments provided for her. She was +not prevented from writing to Emily; indeed, no one liked to +hinder anything she wished, but they were guide-book letters, +describing all she saw as a kind of duty, but scarcely concealing +the trouble it was to look. Such sentences would slip out +as ‘This is a nice quiet place, and I am happy to say there +is nothing that one ought to see.’ Or, ‘I sat +in the cathedral at Lucerne while the others were going +round. The organ was playing, and it was such +rest!’ Or, again, after a day on the Lago di Como, +‘It was glorious, and if you and Edward were here, perhaps +the beauty would penetrate my sluggish soul!’</p> +<p>Ellen’s sluggish soul!—when we remembered her keen +ecstasy at the Valley of Rocks.</p> +<p>Those letters were our chief interest in an autumn which +seemed dreary to us, in spite of friendly visitors; for had not +our family hope and joy been extinguished? There was no +direct communication with Griffith after his unpleasant reply to +my father’s letter; but Clarence saw the newly married pair +on their return to Lady Peacock’s house in London, and +reported that they were very kind and friendly to him, and gave +him more invitations than he could accept. Being +cross-examined when he came home for Christmas, he declared his +conviction that Lady Peacock had married Griff entirely from +affection, and that he had been—well—flattered into +it. They seemed very fond of each other now, and were +launching out into all sorts of gaieties; but though he did not +tell my father, he confided to me that he feared that Griffith +had been disappointed in the amount of fortune at his +wife’s disposal.</p> +<p>It was at that Christmas time, one night, having found an +intrusive cat upon my bed, Clarence carried her out at the back +door close to his room, and came back in haste and rather +pale. ‘It is quite true about the lady and the light +being seen out of doors,’ he said in an awe-stricken voice, +‘I have just seen her flit from the mullion room to the +ruin.’</p> +<p>We only noted the fact in that ghost-diary of ours—we +told nobody, and looked no more. We already believed that +these appearances on the lawn must be the cause that every +window, up to the attics on the garden side of the house, were so +heavily shuttered and barred that there was no opening them +without noise. Indeed, those on the ground floor had in +addition bells attached to them. No doubt the former +inhabitants had done their best to prevent any one from seeing or +inquiring into what was unacknowledged and unaccountable. +It might be only a coincidence, but we could not help remarking +that we had seen and heard nothing of her during the engagement +which might have united the two families; though, of course, it +would be ridiculous to suppose her cognisant of it, like the +White Lady of Avenel, dancing for joy at Mary’s marriage +with Halbert Glendinning.</p> +<p>The Fordyces had settled at Florence, where they suffered a +great deal more from cold than they would have done at Hillside; +and there was such a cessation of Ellen’s letters that +Emily feared that Mrs. Fordyce had attained her wish and +separated the friends effectually. However, Frank Fordyce +beguiled his enforced leisure with long letters to my father on +home business, Austrian misgovernment, and the Italian Church and +people, full of shrewd observations and new lights; and one of +these ended thus, ‘My poor lassie has been in bed for ten +days with a severe cold. She begs me to say that she has +begun a letter to Emily, and hopes soon to finish it. We +had thought her gaining ground, but she is sadly pulled +down. <i>Fiat voluntas</i>.’</p> +<p>The letter, which had been begun, never came; but, after three +long weeks, there was one from the dear patient herself, +mentioning her illness, and declaring that it was so comfortable +to be allowed to be tired, and to go nowhere and see nothing +except the fragment of beautiful blue sky, and the corner of a +campanile, and the flowers Anne brought in daily.</p> +<p>As soon as she could be moved, they took her to Genoa, where +she revived enough to believe that she should be well if she were +at home again, and to win from her parents a promise to take her +to Hillside as soon as the spring winds were over. So +anxious was she that, as soon as there was any safety in +travelling, the party began moving northwards, going by sea to +Marseilles to avoid the Corniche, so early in the year. +There were many fluctuations, and it was only her earnest +yearning for home and strong resolution that could have made her +parents persevere; but at last they were at Hillside, just after +Whitsuntide, in the last week of May.</p> +<p>Frank Fordyce walked over to see us on the very evening after +their arrival. He was much altered, his kindly handsome +face looked almost as if he had gone through an illness; and, +indeed, apart from all his anxiety and sorrow, he had pined in +foreign parts for his human flock, as well as his bullocks and +his turnips. He had also read, thought, and observed a +great deal, and had left his long boyhood behind him, during a +space for study and meditation such as he had never had +before.</p> +<p>He was quite hopeless of his daughter’s recovery, and +made no secret of it. In passing through London the best +advice had been taken, but only to obtain the verdict that the +case was beyond all skill, and that it was only a matter of +weeks, when all that could be done was to give as much +gratification as possible. The one thing that Ellen did +care about was to be at home—to have Emily with her, and +once more see her school children, her church, and her +garden. Tired as she was she had sprung up in the carriage +at the first glimpse of Hillside spire, and had leant forward at +the window, nodding and smiling her greetings to all the +villagers.</p> +<p>She had been taken at once to her room and her bed, but her +father had promised to beg Emily to come up by noon on the +morrow. Then he sat talking of local matters, not able to +help showing what infinite relief it was to him to be at home, +and what music to his ears was the Somersetshire dialect and deep +English voice ‘after all those thin, shrill, screeching +foreigners.’</p> +<p>Poor Emily! It was in mingled grief and gladness that +she set off the next day, with the trepidation of one to whom +sickness and decay were hitherto unknown. When she +returned, it was in a different mood, unable to believe the +doctors could be right, and in the delight of having her own +bright, sweet Ellen back again, all herself. They had +talked, but more of home and village than of foreign experiences; +and though Ellen did not herself assist, she had much enjoyed +watching the unpacking of the numerous gifts which had cost a +perfect fortune at the Custom House. No one seemed +forgotten—villagers, children, servants, friends. +Some of these tokens are before me still. The Florentine +mosaic paper-weight she brought me presses this very sheet; the +antique lamp she gave my father is on the mantelpiece; +Clarence’s engraving of Raffaelle’s St. Michael hangs +opposite to me on the wall. Most precious in our eyes was +the collection of plants, dried and labelled by herself, which +she brought to Emily and me—poor mummies now, but redolent +of undying affection. Her desire was to bestow all her +keepsakes with her own hands, and in most cases she actually did +so—a few daily, as her strength served her. The +little figures in costume, coloured prints, Swiss carvings, +French knicknacks, are preserved in many a Hillside cottage as +treasured relics of ‘our young lady.’ Many +years later, Martyn recognised a Hillside native in a back street +in London by a little purple-blue picture of Vesuvius, and +thereby reached the soft spot in a nearly dried-up heart.</p> +<p>So bright and playful was the dear girl over all her old +familiar interests that we inexperienced beings believed not only +that the wound to her affections was healed, but that she either +did not know or did not realise the sentence that had been +pronounced on her; but when this was repeated to her mother, it +was met by a sad smile and the reply that we only saw her in her +best hours. Still, through the summer, it was impossible to +us to accept the truth; she looked so lovely, was so cheerful, +and took such delight in all that was about her.</p> +<p>With the first cold, however, she seemed to shrivel up, and +the bad nights extended into the days. Emily ascribed the +change to the lack of going out into the air, and always found +reasons for the increased languor and weakness; till at last +there came a day when my poor little sister seemed as if the +truth had broken upon her for the first time, when Ellen talked +plainly to her of their parting, and had asked us both, +‘her dear brother and sister,’ to be with her at her +Communion on All Saints’ Day.</p> +<p>She had written a little letter to Clarence, begging his +forgiveness for having cut him, and treated him with the scorn +which, I believe, was the chief fault that weighed upon her +conscience; and, hearing my father’s voice in the house, +she sent a message to beg him to come and see her in her +mother’s dressing-room—that very window where I had +first heard her voice, refusing to come down to ‘those +Winslows.’ She had sent for him to entreat him to +forgive Griffith and recall the pair to Chantry House. +‘Not now,’ she said, ‘but when I am +gone.’</p> +<p>My father could deny her nothing, though he showed that the +sight of her made the entreaty all the harder to him; and she +pleaded, ‘But you know this was not his doing. I +never was strong, and it had begun before. Only think how +sad it would have been for him.’</p> +<p>My father would have promised anything with that wasted hand +on his, those fervent eyes gazing on him, and he told her he +would have given his pardon long ago, if it had been sought, as +it never had been.</p> +<p>‘Ah! perhaps he did not dare!’ she said. +‘Won’t you write when all this is over, and then you +will be one family again as you used to be?’</p> +<p>He promised, though he scarcely knew where Griffith was. +Clarence, however, did. He had answered Ellen’s +letter, and it had made him ask for a few days’ leave of +absence. So he came down on the Saturday, and was allowed a +quarter of an hour beside Ellen’s sofa in the Sunday +evening twilight. He brought away the calm, rapt expression +I had sometimes seen on his face at church, and Ellen made a +special entreaty that he might share the morrow’s +feast.</p> +<p>There are some things that cannot be written of, and that was +one. Still we had not thought the end near at hand, though +on Tuesday morning a message was sent that Ellen was suffering +and exhausted, and could not see Emily. It was a wild, +stormy day, with fierce showers of sleet, and we clung to the +hope that consideration for my sister had prompted the +message. In the afternoon Clarence battled with a severe +gale, made his way to Hillside, and heard that the weather +affected the patient, and that there was much bodily +distress. For one moment he saw her father, who said in +broken accents that we could only pray that the spirit might be +freed without much more suffering, ‘though no doubt it is +all right.’</p> +<p>Before daylight, before any one in the house was up, Clarence +was mounting the hill in the gusts that had done their work on +the trees and were subsiding with the darkness. And just as +he was beginning the descent, as the sun tipped the Hillside +steeple with light, he heard the knell, and counted the +twenty-one for the years of our Ellen—for ours she will +always be.</p> +<p>‘Somehow,’ he told me, ‘I could not help +taking off my hat and giving thanks for her, and then all the +drops on all the boughs began sparkling, and there was a hush on +all around as if she were passing among the angels, and a thrush +broke out into a regular song of jubilee!’</p> +<h2><a name="page293"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +293</span>CHAPTER XXXIV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">NOT IN VAIN.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Then cheerly to your work again,<br /> + With hearts new braced and set<br /> +To run untired love’s blessed race,<br /> +As meet for those who face to face<br /> + Over the grave their Lord have met.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Keble</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">That</span> dying request could not but be +held sacred, and overtures were made to Griffith, who returned an +odd sort of answer, friendly and affectionate, but rather as if +my father were the offending party in need of forgiveness. +He and his wife were obliged for the invitation, but could not +accept it, as they had taken a house near Melton-Mowbray for the +hunting season, and were entertaining friends.</p> +<p>In some ways it was disappointing, in others it was a relief, +not to have the restraint of Lady Peacock’s presence during +the last days we were to have with the Fordyces. For a +fresh loss came upon us. Beachharbour was a fishing-village +on the north-western coast, which, within the previous decade, +had sprung into importance, on the one hand as a fashionable +resort, on the other as a minor port for colliers. The +living was wretchedly poor, and had been held for many years by +one of the old inferior stamp of clergy, scarcely superior in +habits or breeding to the farmers, and only outliving the +scandals of his youth to fall into a state of indolent +carelessness. It was in the gift of a child, for whom Sir +Horace Lester was trustee, and that gentleman had written, about +a fortnight before Ellen’s death, to consult Mr. Fordyce on +its disposal, declaring the great difficulties and deficiencies +of the place, which made it impossible to offer it to any one +without considerable private means, and also able to attract and +improve the utterly demoralised population. He ended, +almost in joke, by saying, ‘In fact, I know no one who +could cope with the situation but yourself; I wish you could find +me your own counterpart, or come yourself in earnest. It is +just the air that suits my sister—bracing sea-breezes; the +parsonage, though a wretched place, is well situated, and she +would be all the stronger; but in poor Ellen’s state there +is no use in talking of it, and besides I know you are wedded to +your fertile fields and Somersetshire clowns.’</p> +<p>That letter (afterwards shown to us) had worked on Mr. +Fordyce’s mind during those mournful days. He was +still young enough to leave behind him Parson Frank and the +‘squarson’ habits of Hillside in which he had grown +up; and the higher and more spiritual side of his nature had been +fostered by the impressions of the last year. He was +conscious, as he said, that his talk had been overmuch of +bullocks, and that his farm had engrossed him more than he wished +should happen again, though a change would be tearing himself up +by the roots; and as to his own people at Hillside, the curate, +an active young man, had well supplied his place, and, in his +<i>truly</i> humble opinion, though by no means in theirs, +introduced several improvements even in that model parish.</p> +<p>What had moved him most, however, was a conversation he had +had with Ellen, with whom during this last year he had often held +deep and serious counsel, with a growing reverence on his +side. He had read her uncle’s letter to her, and to +his great surprise found that she looked on it as a call. +Devotedly fond as she herself was of Hillside, she could see that +her father’s abilities were wasted on so small a field, in +a manner scarcely good for himself, and she had been struck with +the greater force of his sermons when preaching to educated +congregations abroad. If no one else could or would take +efficient charge of these Beachharbour souls, she could see that +it would weigh on his conscience to take comparative ease in his +own beloved meadows, among a flock almost his vassals. +Moreover, she relieved his mind about her mother. She had +discovered, what the good wife kept out of sight, that the +north-country woman never could entirely have affinities with the +south, and she had come to the conclusion that Mrs. +Fordyce’s spirits would be heavily tried by settling down +at Hillside in the altered state of things.</p> +<p>After this talk, Mr. Fordyce had suggested a possible +incumbent to his brother-in-law, but left the matter open; and +when Sir Horace came down to the funeral, it was more thoroughly +discussed; and, as soon as Mrs. Fordyce saw that departure would +not break her husband’s heart, she made no secret of the +way that both her opinion and her inclinations lay. She +told my mother that she had always believed her own ill-health +was caused by the southern climate, and that she hoped that Anne +would grow up stronger than her sister in the northern +breezes.</p> +<p>Poor little Anne! Of all the family, to her the change +was the greatest grief. The tour on the Continent had been +a dull affair to her; she was of the age to weary of long +confinement in the carriage and in strange hotels, and too young +to appreciate ‘grown-up’ sights. +Picture-galleries and cathedrals were only a drag to her, and if +the experiences that were put into Rosella’s mouth for the +benefit of her untravelled sisters could have been written down, +they would have been as unconventional as Mark Twain’s +adventures. Rosella went through the whole tour, and left a +leg behind in the hinge of a door, but in compensation brought +home a Paris bonnet and mantle. She seemed to have been her +young mistress’s chief comfort, next to an occasional game +of play with her father, or a walk, looking in at the shop +windows and watching marionettes, or, still better, the wonderful +sports of brown-legged street children, without trying to make +her speak French or Italian—in her eyes one of the +inflictions of the journey, in those of her elders the one +benefit she might gain. She had missed the petting to which +she had been accustomed from her grandfather and from all of us; +and she had absolutely counted the days till she could get home +again, and had fallen into dire disgrace for fits of crying when +Ellen’s weakness caused delays. Martyn’s +holidays had been a time of rapture to her, for there was no one +to attend much to her at home, and she was too young to enter +into the weight of anxiety; so the two had run as wild together +as a gracious well-trained damsel of ten and a fourteen-year-old +boy with tender chivalry awake in him could well do. To be +out of the way was all that was asked of her for the time, and +all old delights, such as the robbers’ cave, were renewed +with fresh zest.</p> +<blockquote><p>‘It was the sweetest and the +last.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And though Martyn was gone back to school, the child felt the +wrench from home most severely. As she told me on one of +those sorrowful days, ‘She did think she had come back to +live at dear, dear little Hillside all the days of her +life.’ Poor child, we became convinced that this +vehement attachment to Griffith’s brothers was one factor +in Mrs. Fordyce’s desire to make a change that should break +off these habits of intimacy and dependence.</p> +<p>Pluralities had not become illegal, and Frank Fordyce, being +still the chief landholder in Hillside, and wishing to keep up +his connection with his people, did not resign the rectory, +though he put the curate into the house, and let the farm. +Once or twice a year he came to fulfil some of a landlord’s +duties, and was as genial and affectionate as ever, but more and +more absorbed in the needs of Beachharbour, and unconsciously +showing his own growth in devotion and activity; while he brought +his splendid health and vigour, his talent, his wealth, and, +above all, his winning charm of manner and address, to that +magnificent work at Beachharbour, well known to all of you; +though, perhaps, you never guessed that the foundation of all +those churches and their grand dependent works of piety, mercy, +and beneficence was laid in one young girl’s grave. I +never heard of a fresh achievement there without remembering how +the funeral psalm ends with—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Prosper Thou the work of our hands upon +us,<br /> +O prosper Thou our handiwork.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And Emily? Her drooping after the loss of her friend was +sad, but it would have been sadder but for the spirit Ellen had +infused. We found the herbs to heal our woe round our +pathway, though the first joyousness of life had departed. +The reports Mr. Henderson and the Hillside curate brought from +Oxford were great excitements to us, and we thought and puzzled +over church doctrine, and tried to impart it to our +scholars. We I say, for Henderson had made me take a +lads’ class, which has been the chief interest of my +life. Even the roughest were good to their helpless +teacher, and some men, as gray-headed as myself, still come every +Sunday to read with Mr. Edward, and are among the most faithful +friends of my life.</p> +<h2><a name="page299"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +299</span>CHAPTER XXXV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">GRIFF’S BIRD.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Shall such mean little creatures pretend to +the fashion?<br /> +Cousin Turkey Cock, well may you be in a passion.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>The Peacock at Home</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was not till the second +Christmas after dear Ellen Fordyce’s death that my eldest +brother brought his wife and child to Chantry House, after an +urgent letter to Lady Peacock from my mother, who yearned for a +sight of Griffith’s boy.</p> +<p>I do not wish to dwell on that visit. Selina, or +Griff’s bird, as Martyn chose to term her, was certainly +handsome and stylish; but her complexion had lost freshness and +delicacy, and the ladies said her colour was rouge, and her fine +figure due to other female mysteries. She meant to be very +gracious, and patronised everybody, especially Emily, who, she +said, would be quite striking if not sacrificed by her dress, and +whom she much wished to take to London, engaging to provide her +with a husband before the season was over, not for a moment +believing my mother’s assurance that it would be a trial to +us all whenever we had to resign our Emily. Nay, she tried +to condole with the poor moped family slave, and was received +with such hot indignation as made her laugh, for, to do her +justice, she was good-natured and easy-tempered. However, I +saw less of her than did the others, for I believe she thought +the sight of me made her ill. Griff, poor old fellow, was +heartily glad to be with us again, but quite under her +dominion. He had lost his glow of youth and grace of +figure, his complexion had reddened, and no one would have +guessed him only a year older than Clarence, whose shoulders did +indeed reveal something of the desk, but whose features, though +pale, were still fair and youthful. The boy was another +Clarence, not so much in compliment to his godfather as because +it was the most elegant name in the family, and favoured an +interesting belief, current among his mother’s friends, +that the king had actually stood sponsor to the uncle. Poor +little man, his grandmother shut herself into the bookroom and +cried, after her first sight of him. He was a wretched, +pinched morsel of humanity, though mamma and Emily detected +wonderful resemblances; I never saw them, but then he inherited +his mother’s repulsion towards me, and roared doubly at the +sight of me. My mother held that he was the victim of +Selina’s dissipations and mismanagement of herself and him, +and gave many matronly groans at his treatment by the smart, +flighty nurse, who waged one continual warfare with the +household.</p> +<p>Accustomed to absolute supremacy in domestic matters, it was +very hard for my mother to have her counsels and experience set +at naught, and, if she appealed to Griff, to find her notions +treated with the polite deference he might have shown to a +cottage dame.</p> +<p>A course of dinner-parties could not hinder her ladyship from +finding Chantry House insufferably dull, ‘always like +Sunday;’ and, when she found that we were given to +Saints’ Day services, her pity and astonishment knew no +bounds. ‘It was all very well for a poor object like +Edward,’ she held, ‘but as to Mr. Winslow and +Clarence, did they go for the sake of example? Though, to +be sure, Clarence might be a Papist any day.’</p> +<p>Popery, instead of Methodism, was just beginning to be the +bugbear set up for those whom the world held to be +ultra-religious, and my mother was so far disturbed at our +interest in what was termed Oxford theology that the warning +would have alarmed her if it had come from any other +quarter. However, Lady Peacock was rather fond of Clarence, +and entertained him with schemes for improving Chantry House when +it should have descended to Griffith. The mullion rooms +were her special aversion, and were all to be swept away, +together with the vaultings and the ruin—‘enough to +give one the blues, if there were nothing else,’ she +averred.</p> +<p>We really felt it to the credit of our country that Sir George +Eastwood sent an invitation to an early dance to please his young +daughters; and for this our visitors prolonged their stay. +My mother made Clarence go, that she might have some one to take +care of her and Emily, since Griff was sure to be absorbed by his +lady. Emily had not been to a ball since those gay days in +London with Ellen. She shrank back from the contrast, and +would have begged off; but she was told that she must submit; and +though she said she felt immeasurably older than at that happy +time, I believe she was not above being pleased with the pale +pink satin dress and wreath of white jessamine, which my father +presented to her, and in which, according to Martyn, she beat +‘Griff’s bird all to shivers.’</p> +<p>Clarence had grown much less bashful and embarrassed since the +Tooke affair had given him a kind of position and a sense of not +being a general disgrace. He really was younger in some +ways at five-and-twenty than at eighteen; he enjoyed dancing, and +especially enjoyed the compliments upon our sister, whom in our +usual fashion we viewed as the belle of the ball. He was +standing by my fire, telling me the various humours of the night, +when a succession of shrieks ran through the house. He +dashed away to see what was the matter, and returned, in a few +seconds, saying that Selina had seen some one in the garden, and +neither she nor mamma would be satisfied without +examination—‘though, of course, I know what it must +be,’ he added, as he drew on his coat.</p> +<p>‘Bill, are you coming?’ said Griff at the +door. ‘You needn’t, if you don’t like +it. I bet it is your old friend.’</p> +<p>‘I’m coming! I’m coming! +I’m sure it is,’ shouted Martyn from behind, with the +inconsistent addition, ‘I’ve got my gun.’</p> +<p>‘Enough to dispose of any amount of robbers or phantoms +either,’ observed Griff as they went forth by the back +door, reinforced by Amos Bell with a lantern in one hand and a +poker in the other.</p> +<p>My father was fortunately still asleep, and my mother came +down to see whether I was frightened.</p> +<p>She said she had no patience with Selina, and had left her to +Emily and her maid; but, before many words had been spoken, they +all came creeping down after her, feeling safety in numbers, or +perhaps in her entire fearlessness. The report of a gun +gave us all a shock, and elicited another scream or two. My +mother, hoping that no one was hurt, hastened into the hall, but +only to meet Griff, hurrying in laughing to reassure us with the +tidings that it was only Martyn, who had shot the old sun-dial by +way of a robber; and he was presently followed by the others, +Martyn rather crestfallen, but arguing with all his might that +the sun-dial was exactly like a man; and my mother hurried every +one off upstairs without further discussion.</p> +<p>Clarence was rather white, and when Martyn demanded, ‘Do +you really think it was the ghost? Fancy her selection of +the bird!’ he gravely answered, ‘Martyn, boy, if it +were, it is not a thing to speak of in that tone. You had +better go to bed.’</p> +<p>Martyn went off, somewhat awed. Clarence was cold and +shivering, and stood warming himself. He was going to wind +up his watch, but his hand shook, and I did it for him, noting +the hour—twenty minutes past one.</p> +<p>It appeared that Selina, on going upstairs, recollected that +she had left her purse in Griff’s sitting-room before going +to dress, and had gone in quest of it. She heard strange +shouts and screams outside, and, going to one of the old windows, +where the shutters were less unmanageable than elsewhere, she +beheld a woman rushing towards the house pursued by at least a +couple of men. Filled with terror she had called out, and +nearly fainted in Griff’s arms.</p> +<p>‘It agrees with all we have heard before,’ said +Clarence, ‘the very day and hour!’</p> +<p>‘As Martyn said, the person is strange.’</p> +<p>‘Villagers, less concerned, have seen the like,’ +he said; ‘and, indeed, all unconsciously poor Selina has +cut away the hope of redress,’ he sighed. +‘Poor, restless spirit! would that I could do anything for +her.’</p> +<p>‘Let me ask, do you ever see her now?’</p> +<p>‘N-no, I suppose not; but whenever I am anxious or +worried, the trouble takes her form in my dreams.’</p> +<p>Lady Peacock had soon extracted the ghost story from her +husband, and, though she professed to be above the vulgar folly +of belief in it, her nerves were so upset, she said, that nothing +would have induced her to sleep another night in the house. +The rational theory on this occasion was that one of the maids +must have stolen out to join in the Christmas entertainment at +the Winslow Arms, and been pursued home by some tipsy revellers; +but this explanation was not productive of goodwill between the +mother and daughter-in-law, since mamma had from the first so +entirely suspected Selina’s smart nurse as actually to have +gone straight to the nursery on the plea of seeing whether the +baby had been frightened. The woman was found +asleep—apparently so—said my mother, but all her +clothes were in an untidy heap on the floor, which to my mother +was proof conclusive that she had slipped into the house in the +confusion, and settled herself there. Had not my mother +with her own eyes watched from the window her flirtations with +the gardener, and was more evidence requisite to convict +her? Mamma entertained the hope that her proposal would be +adopted of herself taking charge of her grandson, and fattening +his poor little cheeks on our cows’ milk, while the rest of +the party continued their round of visits.</p> +<p>Lady Peacock, however, treated it as a personal imputation +that <i>her</i> nurse should be accused instead of any servant of +Mrs. Winslow’s own, though, as Griff observed, not only +character, but years and features might alike acquit them of any +such doings; but even he could not laugh long, for it was no +small vexation to him that such offence should have arisen +between his mother and wife. Of course there was no open +quarrel—my mother had far too much dignity to allow it to +come to that—but each said in private bitter things of the +other, and my lady’s manner of declining to leave her baby +at Chantry House was almost offensive.</p> +<p>Poor Griffith, who had been growing more like himself every +day, tried in vain to smooth matters, and would have been very +glad to leave his child to my mother’s management, though, +of course, he acquitted the nurse of the midnight +adventure. He privately owned to us that he had no opinion +of the woman, but he defended her to my mother, in whose eyes +this was tantamount to accusing her own respectable maids, since +it was incredible that any rational person could accept the +phantom theory.</p> +<p>Gladly would he have been on better terms, for he had had to +confess that his wife’s fortune had turned out to be much +less than common report had stated, or than her style of living +justified, and that his marriage had involved him in a sea of +difficulties, so that he had to beg for a larger allowance, and +for assistance in paying off debts.</p> +<p>The surrender of the London house and of some of the chief +expenses were made conditions of such favours, and Griffith had +assented gratefully when alone with his father; but after an +interview with his wife, demonstrations were made that it was +highly economical to have a house in town, and horses, carriages, +and servants and that any change would be highly derogatory to +the heir of Earlscombe and the sacred wishes of the late Sir +Henry Peacock.</p> +<p>In fact, it was impressed on us that we were mere homely, +countrified beings, who could not presume to dictate to her +ladyship, but who had ill requited her condescension in deigning +to beam upon us.</p> +<h2><a name="page307"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +307</span>CHAPTER XXXVI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">SLACK WATER.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘O dinna look, ye prideful queen, on +a’ aneath your ken,<br /> +For he wha seems the farthest <i>but</i> aft wins the farthest +<i>ben</i>,<br /> +And whiles the doubie of the schule tak’s lead of a’ +the rest:<br /> +The birdie sure to sing is the gorbal of the nest.</p> +<p>‘The cauld, grey, misty morn aft brings a sunny summer +day;<br /> +The tree wha’s buds are latest is longest to decay;<br /> +The heart sair tried wi’ sorrow still endures the sternest +test:<br /> +The birdie sure to sing is the gorbal of the nest.</p> +<p>‘The wee wee stern that glints in heaven may be a +lowin’ sun,<br /> +Though like a speck of light it seem amid the welkin dun;<br /> +The humblest sodger on the field may win a warrior’s +crest:<br /> +The birdie sure to sing is the gorbal of the nest.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Scotch Newspaper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> wickedness of the nurse was +confirmed in my mother’s eyes when the doom on the +first-born of the Winslows was fulfilled, and the poor little +baby, Clarence, succumbed to a cold on the chest caught while his +nurse was gossiping with a guardsman.</p> +<p>He was buried in London. ‘It was better for Selina +to get those things over as quickly as possible,’ said +Griff; but Clarence saw that he suffered much more than his wife +would let him show to her. ‘It is so bad for him to +dwell on it,’ she said. ‘You see. I never +let myself give way.’</p> +<p>And she was soon going out, nearly as usual, till their one +other infant came to open its eyes only for a few hours on this +troublesome world, and owe its baptism to Clarence’s +exertions. My mother, who was in London just after, +attending on the good old Admiral’s last illness, was +greatly grieved and disgusted with all she heard and saw of the +young pair, and that was not much. She felt their disregard +of her uncle as heartless, or rather as insulting, on +Selina’s part, and weak on Griff’s; and on all sides +she heard of their reckless extravagance, which made her forebode +the worst.</p> +<p>All these disappointments much diminished my father’s +pleasure and interest in his inheritance. He had little +heart to build and improve, when his eldest son’s wife made +no secret of her hatred to the place, or to begin undertakings +only to be neglected by those who came after; and thus several +favourite schemes were dropped, or prevented by Griffith’s +applications for advances.</p> +<p>At last there was a crisis. At the end of the second +season after their visit to us, Clarence sent a hasty note, +begging my father to join him in averting an execution in +Griffith’s house. I cannot record the particulars, +for just at that time I had a long low fever, and did not touch +my diary for many weeks; nor indeed did I know much about the +circumstances, since my good nurses withheld as much as possible, +and would not let me talk about what they believed to make me +worse. Nor can I find any letters about it. I believe +they were all made away with long ago, and thus I only know that +my father hurried up to town, remained for a fortnight, and came +back looking ten years older. The house in London had been +given up, and he had offered a vacant one of our own, near home, +to Griff to retrench in, but Selina would not hear of it, +insisting on going abroad.</p> +<p>This was a great grief to him and to us all. There was +only one side of our lives that was not saddened. Our old +incumbent had died about six months after the Fordyces had gone, +and Mr. Henderson had gladly accepted the living where the +parsonage had been built. The lady to whom he had been so +long engaged was a great acquisition. Her home had been at +Oxford; and she was as thoroughly imbued with the spirit that +there prevailed as was the Hillside curate. She talked to +us of Littlemore, and of the sermons there and at St. +Mary’s, and Emily and I shared to the full her +hero-worship. It was the nearest compensation my sister had +had for the loss of Ellen, with this difference, that Mrs. +Henderson was older, had read more, and had conversed +thoughtfully with some of the leading spirits in religious +thought, so that she opened a new world to us.</p> +<p>People would hardly believe in our eagerness and enthusiasm +over the revelations of church doctrine; how we debated, +consulted our books, and corresponded with Clarence over what now +seems so trite; how we viewed the <i>British Critic</i> and +<i>Tracts for the Times</i> as our oracles, and worried the poor +Wattlesea bookseller to get them for us at the first possible +moment.</p> +<p>Church restoration was setting in. Henderson had always +objected to christening from a slop-basin on the altar, and had +routed out a dilapidated font; and now one, which was termed by +the country paper chaste and elegant, was by united efforts, in +which Clarence had the lion’s share, presented in time for +the christening of the first child at the Parsonage. It is +that which was sent off to the Mission Chapel as a blot on the +rest of Earlscombe Church. Yet what an achievement it was +deemed at the time!</p> +<p>The same may be said of most of our doings at that era. +We effected them gradually, and have ever since been undoing +them, as our architectural and ecclesiastical perceptions have +advanced. I wonder how the next generation will deal with +our alabaster reredos and our stained windows, with which we are +all as well pleased as we were fifty years ago with the plain red +cross with a target-like arrangement above and below it in the +east window, or as poor Margaret may have been with her livery +altar-cloth. Indeed, it seems to me that we got more +delight out of our very imperfect work, designed by ourselves and +sent to Clarence to be executed by men in back streets in London, +costing an immensity of trouble, than can be had now by simply +choosing out of a book of figures of cut and dried articles.</p> +<p>What an enthusiastic description Clarence sent of the +illuminated commandments in the new Church of St. Katharine in +the Regent’s Park! How Emily and I gloated over the +imitation of them when we replaced the hideous old tables, and +how exquisite we thought the initial I, which irreverent +youngsters have likened, with some justice, to an enormous +overfed caterpillar, enwreathed with red and green cabbage +leaves!</p> +<p>My mother was startled at these innovations; but my father, +who had kept abreast with the thought of the day, owned to the +doctrines as chiming in with his unbroken belief, and transferred +to the improvements in the church the interest which he had lost +in the estate. The farmers had given up their distrust of +him, and accepted him loyally as friend and landlord, submitting +to the reseating of the church, and only growling moderately at +decorations that cost them nothing. Daily service began as +soon as Henderson was his own master, and was better attended +than it is now; for the old people to whom it was a novelty took +up the habit more freely than their successors, to whom the bell +has been familiar through their days of toil. We were too +far off to be constant attendants; but evensong made an object +for our airings, and my father’s head, now quite white, was +often seen there. He felt it a great relief amid the cares +of his later years.</p> +<p>Perhaps it was with a view to him that Mr. Castleford arranged +that Clarence should become manager for the firm at Bristol, with +a good salary. The Robsons would not take a fresh +lodger—they were getting too old for fresh beginnings; but +they kept their rooms ready for him, whenever he had to be in +town, and Gooch found him a trustworthy widow as +housekeeper. He took a little cottage at Clifton, availing +himself of the coach to spend his Sundays with us; and it was an +acknowledged joy to every one that I should drive to meet him +every Saturday afternoon at the Carpenter’s Arms, and bring +him home to be my father’s aid in all his business, and a +most valuable help in Sunday parish work, in which he had an +amount of experience which astonished us.</p> +<p>What would have become of the singing without him? The +first hint against the remarkable anthems had long ago alienated +our tuneful choir placed on high, and they had deserted <i>en +masse</i>. Then Emily and the schoolmistress had toiled at +the school children, whose thin little pipes and provincialisms +were a painful infliction, till Mrs. Henderson, backed by +Clarence, worked up a few promising men’s voices to support +them. We thought everything but the New and Old Versions +smacked of dissent, except the hymns at the end of the +Prayer-book, though we did not go as far as Chapman, who told +Emily he understood as how all the tunes was tried over in +Doctor’s Commons afore they were sent out, and it was not +‘liable’ to change them. One of +Clarence’s amusements in his lonely life had been the +acquisition of a knowledge of music, and he had a really good +voice; while his adherence to our choir encouraged other young +men of the farmer and artisan class to join us. Choir, +however, did not mean surplices and cassocks, but a collection of +our best voices, male and female, in the gallery.</p> +<p>Martyn began to be a great help when at home, never having +wavered in his purpose of becoming a clergyman. On going to +Oxford, he became imbued with the influences that made Alma Mater +the focus of the religious life and progress of that generation +which is now the elder one. There might in some be +unreality, in others extravagance, in others mere imitation; but +there was a truly great work on the minds of the young men of +that era—a work which has stood the test of time, made +saints and martyrs, and sown the seed whereof we have witnessed a +goodly growth, in spite of cruel shocks and disappointments, +fightings within and fears without, slanders and follies to +provoke them, such as we can now afford to laugh over. With +Martyn, rubrical or extra-rubrical observances were the outlet of +the exuberance of youth, as chivalry and romance had been to us; +and on Frank Fordyce’s visits, it was delightful to find +that he too was in the full swing of these ideas and habits, +partly from his own convictions, partly from his parish needs, +and partly carried along by curates fresh from Oxford.</p> +<p>In the first of his summer vacations Martyn joined a reading +party, with a tutor of the same calibre, and assured them that if +they took up their quarters in a farmhouse not many miles by the +map from Beachharbour, they would have access to unlimited +services, with the extraordinary luxury of a surpliced choir, and +intercourse with congenial spirits, which to him meant the +Fordyces.</p> +<p>On arriving, however, the bay proved to be so rocky and +dangerous that there was no boating across it, as he had +confidently expected. The farm depended on a market town in +the opposite direction, and though the lights of Beachharbour +could be seen at night, there was no way thither except by a +six-miles walk along a cliff path, with a considerable +détour in order to reach a bridge and cross the rapid +river which was an element of danger in the bay, on the north +side of the promontory which sheltered the harbour to the +south.</p> +<p>So when Martyn started as pioneer on the morning before the +others arrived, he descended into Beachharbour later than he +intended, but still he was in time to meet Anne Fordyce, a tall, +bright-faced girl of fourteen, taking her after-lessons turn on +the parade with a governess, who looked amazed as the two met, +holding out both hands to one another, with eager joy and +welcome.</p> +<p>It was not the same when Anne flew into the Vicarage with the +rapturous announcement, ‘Here’s Martyn!’ +The vicar was gone to a clerical meeting, and Mrs. Fordyce said +nothing about staying to see him. The luncheon was a +necessity, but with quiet courtesy Martyn was made to understand +that he was regarded as practically out of reach, and ‘Oh, +mamma, he could come and sleep,’ was nipped in the +utterance by ‘Martyn is busy with his studies; we must not +disturb him.’ This was a sufficient intimation that +Mrs. Fordyce did not intend to have the pupils dropping in on her +continually, and making her house their resort; and while Martyn +was digesting the rebuff, the governess carried Anne off to +prepare for a music lesson, and her mother gave no encouragement +to lingering or repeating the visit.</p> +<p>Still Martyn, on his way homewards, based many hopes on the +return of Mr. Fordyce; but all that ensued was, three weeks +later, a note regretting the not having been able to call, and +inviting the whole party to a great school-feast on the +anniversary of the dedication of the first of the numerous new +churches of Beachharbour. There was no want of cordiality +on that occasion, but time was lacking for anything beyond +greetings and fleeting exchanges of words. Parson Frank +tried to talk to Martyn, bemoaned the not seeing more of him, +declared his intentions of coming to the farm, began an +invitation, but was called off a hundred ways; and Anne was +rushing about with all the children of the place, gentle and +simple, on her hands. Whenever Martyn tried to help her, he +was called off some other way, and engaged at last in the +hopeless task of teaching cricket where these fisher boys had +never heard of it.</p> +<p>That was all he saw of our old friends, and he was much hurt +by such ingratitude. So were we all, and though we soon +acquitted the head of the family of more than the forgetfulness +of over occupation, the soreness at his wife’s coldness was +not so soon passed over. Yet from her own point of view, +poor woman, she might be excused for a panic lest her second +daughter might go the way of the first.</p> +<h2><a name="page316"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +316</span>CHAPTER XXXVII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OUTWARD BOUND.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘As slow our ship her foamy track<br /> + Against the wind was cleaving,<br /> +Her trembling pennant still looked back<br /> + To the dear isle ’twas leaving.<br /> +So loath we part from all we love,<br /> + From all the links that bind us,<br /> +So turn our hearts as on we rove<br /> + To those we’ve left behind us.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right">T. <span +class="smcap">Moore</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> first time I saw +Clarence’s <i>ménage</i> was in that same summer of +poor Martyn’s repulse. My father had come in for a +small property in his original county of Shropshire, and this led +to his setting forth with my mother to make necessary +arrangements, and then to pay visits to old friends; leaving +Emily and me to be guests to our brother at Clifton.</p> +<p>We told them it was their harvest honeymoon, and it was funny +to see how they enjoyed the scheme when they had once made up +their minds to it, and our share in the project was equally new +and charming, for Emily and I, though both some way on in our +twenties, were still in many respects home children, nor had I +ever been out on a visit on my own account. The yellow +chariot began by conveying Emily and me to our destination.</p> +<p>Clifton has grown considerably since those days, and terraces +have swallowed up the site of what the post-office knew as +Prospect Cottage, but we were apt to term the doll’s house, +for, as Emily said, our visit there had something the same effect +as a picnic or tea drinking at little Anne’s famous baby +house. In like manner, it was tiny, square, with one +sash-window on each side of the door, but it was nearly covered +with creepers, odds and ends which Clarence brought from home, +and induced to flourish and take root better than their parent +stocks. In his nursery days his precision had given him the +name of ‘the old bachelor,’ and he had all a +sailor’s tidiness. Even his black cat and brown +spaniel each had its peculiar basket and mat, and had been taught +never to transgress their bounds or interfere with one another; +and the effect of his parlour, embellished as it was in our +honour, was delightful. The outlook was across the +beautiful ravine, into the wooded slopes on the further side, +and, on the other side, down the widening cleft to that giddy +marvel, the suspension bridge, with vessels passing under it, and +the expanse beyond.</p> +<p>Most entirely we enjoyed ourselves, making merry over +Clarence’s housekeeping, employing ourselves after our +wonted semi-student, semi-artist fashion in the morning; and, +when our host came home from business, starting on country +expeditions, taking a carriage whenever the distance exceeded +Emily’s powers of walking beside my chair; sketching, +botanising, or investigating church architecture, our newest +hobby. I sketched, and the other two rambled about, +measuring and filling up archæological papers, with details +of orientation, style, and all the rest, deploring barbarisms and +dilapidations, making curious and delightful discoveries, pitying +those who thought the Dun Cow’s rib and Chatterton’s +loft the most interesting features of St. Mary’s Redcliff, +and above all rubbing brasses with heel ball, and hanging up +their grim effigies wherever there was a vacant space on the +walls of our doll’s house.</p> +<p>And though we grumbled when Clarence was detained at the +office later than we expected, this was qualified by pride at +feeling his importance there as a man in authority. It was, +however, with much dismay and some inhospitality that we learnt +that a young man belonging to the office—in fact, Mr. +Frith’s great-nephew—was coming to sail for Canton in +one of the vessels belonging to the firm, and would have to be +‘looked after.’ He could not be asked to sleep +at Prospect Cottage, for Emily had the only spare bedchamber, and +Clarence had squeezed himself into a queer little dressing closet +to give me his room; but the housekeeper (a treasure found by +Gooch) secured an apartment in the next house, and we were to act +hosts, much against our will. Clarence had barely seen the +youth, who had been employed in the office at Liverpool, living +with his mother, who was in ill-health and had died in the last +spring. The only time of seeing him, he had seemed to be a +very shy raw lad; but, ‘poor fellow, we can make the best +of him,’ was the sentiment; ‘it is only for one +night.’ However, we were dismayed when, as Emily was +in the crisis of washing-in a sky, it was announced that a +gentleman was asking for Mr. Winslow. Churlishness bade us +despatch him to the office, but humanity prevailed to invite him +previously to share our luncheon. Yet we doubted whether it +had not been a cruel mercy when he entered, evidently unprepared +to stumble on a young lady and a deformed man, and stammering +piteously as he hoped there was no mistake—Mr. +Winslow—Prospect, etc.</p> +<p>Emily explained, frustrating his desire to flee at once to the +office, and pointing out his lodging, close at hand, whence he +was invited to return in a few minutes to the meal.</p> +<p>We had time for some amiable exclamations, ‘The +oaf!’ ‘What a bore!’ ‘He has +spoilt my sky!’ ‘I shan’t finish this +to-day!’ ‘Shall we order a carriage and take +him to the office; we can’t have him on our hands all the +afternoon?’ ‘And we might get the new number of +<i>Nicholas Nickleby</i>.’</p> +<p>N.B.—Perhaps it was <i>Oliver Twist</i> or <i>The Old +Curiosity Shop</i>—I am not certain which was the current +excitement just then; but I am quite sure it was Mrs. Nickleby +who first disclosed to us that our guest had a splendid pair of +dark eyes. Hitherto he had kept them averted in the +studious manner I have often noticed in persons who did not wish +to excite suspicion of staring at my peculiarities; but that +lady’s feelings when her neighbour’s legs came down +her chimney were too much for his self-consciousness, and he gave +a glance that disclosed dark liquid depths, sparkling with +mirth. He was one number in advance of us, and could +enlighten us on the next stage in the coming story; and this went +far to reconcile us to the invasion, and to restore him to the +proper use of his legs and arms—and very shapely limbs they +were, for he was a slim, well-made fellow, with a dark gipsy +complexion, and intelligent, honest face, altogether better than +we expected.</p> +<p>Yet we could have groaned when in the evening, Clarence +brought him back with tidings that something had gone wrong with +the ship. If I tried to explain, I might be twitted +with,</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The bowsprit got mixed with the rudder +sometimes.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But of course Clarence knew all about it, and he thought it +unlikely that the vessel would be in sailing condition for a week +at soonest. Great was our dismay! Getting through one +evening by the help of walking and then singing was one thing, +having the heart of our visit consumed by an interloper was +another; though Clarence undertook to take him to the office and +find some occupation for him that might keep him out of our +way. But it was Clarence’s leisure hours that we +begrudged; though truly no one could be meeker than this unlucky +Lawrence Frith, nor more conscious of being an insufferable +burthen. I even detected a tear in his eye when Clarence +and Emily were singing ‘Sweet Home.’</p> +<p>‘Do you know,’ said Clarence, on the second +evening, when his guest had gone to dress for dinner, ‘I am +very sorry for that poor lad. It is only six weeks since he +lost his mother, and he has not a soul to care for him, either +here or where he is going. I had fancied the family were +under a cloud, but I find it was only that old Frith quarrelled +with the father for taking Holy Orders instead of going into our +house. Probably there was some imprudence; for the poor man +died a curate and left no provision for his family. The +only help the old man would give was to take the boy into the +office at Liverpool, stopping his education just as he was old +enough to care about it. There were a delicate mother and +two sisters then, but they are all gone now; scarlet fever +carried off the daughters, and Mrs. Frith never was well +again. He seems to have spent his time in waiting on her +when off duty, and to have made no friends except one or two +contemporaries of hers; and his only belongings are old Frith and +Mrs. Stevens, who are packing him off to Canton without caring a +rap what becomes of him. I know what Mrs. Stevens is at; +she comes up to town much oftener now, and has got her +husband’s nephew into the office, and is trying to get +everything for him; and that’s the reason she wants to keep +up the old feud, and send this poor Lawrence off to the ends of +the earth.’</p> +<p>‘Can’t you do anything for him?’ asked +Emily. ‘I thought Mr. Frith did attend to +you.’</p> +<p>Clarence laughed. ‘I know that Mrs. Stevens hates +me like poison; but that is the only reason I have for supposing +I might have any influence.’</p> +<p>‘And can’t you speak to Mr. Castleford?’</p> +<p>‘Set him to interfere about old Frith’s +relations! He would know better! Besides, the fellow +is too old to get into any other line—four-and-twenty he +says, though he does not look it; and he is as innocent as a +baby, indifferent just now to what becomes of him, or whither he +goes; it is all the same to him, he says; there is no one to care +for him anywhere, and I think he is best pleased to go where it +is all new. And there, you see, the poor lad will be left +to drift to destruction—mother’s darling that he has +been—just for want of some human being to care about him, +and hinder his getting heartless and reckless!’</p> +<p>Clarence’s voice trembled, and Emily had tears in her +eyes as she asked if absolutely nothing could be done for +him. Clarence meant to write to Mr. Castleford, who would +no doubt beg the chaplain at the station to show the young man +some kindness; also, perhaps, to the resident partner, whom +Clarence had looked at once over his desk, but in his rawest and +most depressed days. The only clerk out there, whom he +knew, would, he thought, be no element of safety, and would not +like the youth the better either for bringing his recommendation +or bearing old Frith’s name.</p> +<p>We were considerably softened towards our guest, though the +next time Emily came on him he was standing in the hall, +transfixed in contemplation of her greatest achievement in +brass-rubbing, a severe and sable knight with the most curly of +nostrils, the stiffest and straightest of mouths, hair straight +on his brows, pointed toes joined together below, and fingers +touching over his breast. There he hung in triumph just +within the front door, fluttering and swaying a little on his +pins whenever a draught came in; and there stood Lawrence Frith, +freshly aware of him, and unable to repress the exclamation, +‘I say! isn’t he a guy?’</p> +<p>‘Sir Guy de Warrenne,’ began Emily composedly; +‘don’t you see his coat of arms? “chequy argent +and azure.”’</p> +<p>‘Does your brother keep him there to scare away the +tramps?’</p> +<p>Emily’s countenance was a study.</p> +<p>The subject of brasses was unfolded to Lawrence Frith, and +before the end of the week he had spent an entire day on his +hands and knees, scrubbing away with the waxy black compound at a +figure in the Cathedral—the office-work, as we declared, +which Clarence gave him to do. In fact he became so +thoroughly infected that it was a pity that he was going where +there would be no exercise in ecclesiology—rather the +reverse. Embarrassment on his side, and hostility on ours, +may be said to have vanished under the influence of Sir Guy de +Warrenne’s austere countenance. The youth seemed to +regard ‘Mr. Winslow’ in the light of a father, and to +accept us as kindly beings. He ceased to contort his limbs +in our awful presence, looked at me like as an ordinary person, +and even ventured on giving me an arm. He listened with +unfeigned pleasure to our music, perilled his neck on St. +Vincent’s rocks in search of plants, and by and by took to +hanging back with Emily, while Clarence walked on with me, to +talk to her out of his full heart about his mother and +sisters.</p> +<p>Three weeks elapsed before the <i>Hoang-ho</i> was ready to +sail, and by that time Lawrence knew that there were some who +would rejoice in his success, or grieve if things went ill with +him. Clarence and I had promised him long home letters, and +impressed on him that we should welcome his intelligence of +himself. For verily he had made his way into our hearts, as +a thoroughly good-hearted, affectionate being, yearning for +something to cling to; intelligent and refined, though his recent +cultivation had been restricted, soundly principled, and trained +in religious feelings and habits, but so utterly inexperienced +that there was no guessing how it might be with him when cast +adrift, with no object save his own maintenance, and no one to +take an interest in him.</p> +<p>Clarence talked to him paternally, and took him to second-hand +shops to provide a cheap library of substantial reading, engaging +to cater for him for the future, not omitting Dickens; and Emily +worked at providing him with the small conveniences and comforts +for the voyage that called for a woman’s hand. He was +so grateful that it was like fitting out a dear friend or younger +brother.</p> +<p>‘I wonder,’ said Clarence, as he walked by my +chair on one of the last days, ‘whether it was altogether +wise to have this young Frith here so much, though it could +hardly have been helped.’</p> +<p>To which I rejoined that it could hardly have displeased the +uncle, and that if it did, the youth’s welfare was worth +annoying him for.</p> +<p>‘I meant something nearer home,’ said Clarence, +and proceeded to ask if I did not think Lawrence Frith a good +deal smitten with Emily.</p> +<p>To me it seemed an idea not worth consideration. Any +youth, especially one who had lived so secluded a life, would +naturally be taken by the first pleasing young woman who came in +his way, and took a kindly interest in him; but I did not think +Emily very susceptible, being entirely wrapped up in home and +parish matters; and I reminded Clarence that she had not been +loverless. She had rejected the Curate of Hillside; and we +all saw, though she did not, that only her evident indifference +kept Sir George Eastwood’s second son from making further +advances.</p> +<p>Clarence was not convinced. He said he had never seen +our sister look at either of these as she did when Lawrence came +into the room; and there was no denying that there was a soft and +embellishing light on her whole countenance, and a fresh +sweetness in her voice. But then he seemed such a boy as to +make the notion ridiculous; and yet, on reckoning, it proved that +their years were equal. All that could be hoped was that +the sentiment, if it existed, would not discover itself before +they parted, so as to open their eyes to the dreariness of the +prospect, and cause our mother to think we had betrayed our trust +in the care of our sister. As we could do nothing, we were +not sorry that this was the last day. Clarence was to go on +board with Frith, see him out of the river, and come back with +the pilot; and we all drove down to the wharf together; nobody +saying much by the way, except the few jerky remarks we brothers +felt bound to originate and reply to.</p> +<p>Emily sat very still, her head bent under her shading +bonnet—I think she was trying to keep back tears for the +solitary exile; and Lawrence, opposite, was unable to help +watching her with wistful eyes, which would have revealed all, if +we had not guessed it already. It might be presumptuous, +but it made us very sorry for him.</p> +<p>When the moment of parting came, there was a wringing of +hands, and, ‘Thank you, thank you,’ in a low, broken, +heartfelt voice, and to Emily, ‘You have made life a new +thing to me. I shall never forget,’ and the showing +of a tiny book in his waistcoat pocket.</p> +<p>When the two had disappeared, Emily, no longer restraining her +tears, told me that she had exchanged Prayer-books with him, and +they were to read the Psalms at the same time every day. +‘I thought it might be a help to him,’ she said +simply.</p> +<p>Nor was there any consciousness in her talk as she related to +me what he had told her about his mother and sisters, and his +dreary sense of piteous loneliness, till we had adopted him as a +brother—in which capacity I trusted that she viewed +him.</p> +<p>However, Clarence had been the recipient of all the poor +lad’s fervent feelings for Miss Winslow, how she had been a +new revelation to his desolate spirit, and was to be the guiding +star of his life, etc., etc., all from the bottom of his heart, +though he durst not dream of requital, and was to live, not on +hope, but on memory of the angelic kindness of these three +weeks.</p> +<p>It was impossible not to be touched, though we strove to be +worldly wise old bachelors, and assured one another that the best +and most probable thing that could happen to Lawrence Frith would +be to have his dream blown away by the Atlantic breezes, and be +left open to the charms of some Chinese merchant’s +daughter.</p> +<h2><a name="page328"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +328</span>CHAPTER XXXVIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">TOO LATE.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Thus Esau-like, our Father’s blessing +miss,<br /> +Then wash with fruitless tears our faded crown.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Keble</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">After</span> such a rebuff as Martyn had +experienced at Beachharbour, he no longer haunted its +neighbourhood, but devoted the long vacation of the ensuing year +to a walking tour in Germany, with one or two congenial spirits, +who shared his delight in scenery, pictures, and +architecture.</p> +<p>By and by he wrote to Clarence from Baden Baden—</p> +<p>‘Whom do you think I should find here but Griffith and +his bird? I first spotted the old fellow smoking under a +tree in the Grand Platz, but he looked so seedy and altered +altogether that I was not sure enough of him to speak, especially +as he showed no signs of knowing me. (He says it was my +whiskers that stumped him.) I made inquiries and found that +they figured as “Sir Peacock and lady,” but they were +entered all right in the book. He is taking the +“Kür”—he looks as if he wanted +it—and she is taking <i>rouge et noir</i>. I saw her +at the salon, with her neck grown as long as her +namesake’s, but not as pretty, claws to match, thin and +painted, as if the ruling passion was consuming her. Poor +old Griff! he was glad enough to see me, but he is wofully shaky, +and nearly came to tears when he asked after Ted and all at +home. They had an upset of their carriage in Vienna last +winter, and he got some twist, or other damage, which he thought +nothing of, but it has never righted itself; I am sure he is very +ill, and ought to be looked after. He has had only foreign +doctoring, and you know he never was strong in languages. I +heard of the medico here inquiring what precise symptom <i>der +Englander</i> meant by being “down in zie +mout!” Poor Griff is that, whatever else he is, and +Selina does not see it, nor anything else but her <i>rouge et +noir</i> table. I am afraid he plays too, when he is up to +it, but he can’t stand much of the stuffiness of the place, +and he respects my innocence, poor old beggar; so he has kept out +of it, since we have been here. He seems glad to have me to +look after him, but afraid to let me stay, for fear of my falling +a victim to the place. I can’t well tell him that +there is a perpetual warning to youth in the persons of himself +and his Peacock. His mind might be vastly relieved if I +were out of it, but scarcely his body; and I shall not leave him +till I hear from home. Thomson says I am right. I +should like to bring the poor old man home for advice, especially +if my lady could be left behind, and by all appearances she would +not object. Could not you come, or mamma? Speak to +papa about it. It is all so disgusting that I really could +not write to him. It is enough to break one’s heart +to see Griff when he hears about home, and Edward, and +Emily. I told him how famously you were getting on, and he +said, “It has been all up, up with him, all down, down with +me,” and then he wanted me to fix my day for leaving Baden, +as if it were a sink of infection. I fancy he thinks me a +mere infant still, for he won’t heed a word of advice about +taking care of himself and <i>will</i> do the most foolish things +imaginable for a man in his state, though I can’t make out +what is the matter with him. I tried both French and Latin +with his doctor, equally in vain.’</p> +<p>There was a great consultation over this letter. Our +parents would fain have gone at once to Baden, but my father was +far from well; in fact, it was the beginning of the break-up of +his constitution. He had been ageing ever since his +disappointment in Griffith, and though he had so enjoyed his +jaunt with my mother that he had seemed revived for the time, he +had been visibly failing ever since the winter, and my mother +durst not leave him. Indeed she was only too well aware +that her presence was apt to inspire Selina with the spirit of +contradiction, and that Clarence would have a better chance +alone. He was to go up to London by the mail train, see Mr. +Castleford, and cross to Ostend.</p> +<p>A valise from the lumber-room was wanted, and at bedtime he +went in quest of it. He came back white and shaken; and I +said—</p> +<p>‘You have not seen <i>her</i>?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, I have.’</p> +<p>‘It is not her time of year.’</p> +<p>‘No; I was not even thinking of her. There was +none of the wailing, but when I looked up from my rummaging, +there was her face as if in a window or mirror on the +wall.’</p> +<p>‘Don’t dwell on it’ was all I could entreat, +for the apparition at unusual times had been mentioned as a note +of doom, and not only did it weigh on me, but it might send +Clarence off in a desponding mood. Tidings were less rapid +when telegraphs were not, and railways incomplete. Clarence +did not reach Baden till ten days after the despatch of +Martyn’s letter, and Griffith’s condition had in the +meantime become much more serious. Low fever had set in, +and he was confined to his dreary lodgings, where Martyn was +doing his best for him in an inexperienced, helpless sort of way, +while Lady Peacock was at the <i>salle</i>, persisting in her +belief that the ailment was a temporary matter. Martyn +afterwards declared that he had never seen anything more touching +than poor Griff’s look of intense rest and relief at +Clarence’s entrance.</p> +<p>On the way through London, by the assistance of Mr. +Castleford, Clarence had ascertained how to procure the best +medical advice attainable, and he was linguist enough to be an +adequate interpreter. Alas! all that was achieved was the +discovery that between difficulties of language, Griff’s +own indifference, and his wife’s carelessness, the injury +had developed into fatal disease. An operation <i>might</i> +yet save him, if he could rally enough for it, but the fever was +rapidly destroying his remaining strength. Selina ascribed +it to excitement at meeting Martyn, and indeed he had been +subject to such attacks every autumn. Any way, he had no +spirits nor wish for improvement. If his brothers told him +he was better, he smiled and said it was like a condemned +criminal trying to recover enough for the gallows. His only +desire was to be let alone and have Clarence with him. He +had ceased to be uneasy as to Martyn’s exposure to +temptation, but he said he could hardly bear to watch that +bright, fresh young manhood, and recollect how few years had +passed since he had been such another, nor did he like to have +any nurse save Clarence. His wife at first acquiesced, +holding fast to the theory of the periodical autumnal fever, and +then that the operation would restore him to health; and as her +presence fretted him, and he received her small attentions +peevishly, she persisted in her usual habits, and heard with +petulance his brothers’ assurances of his being in a +critical condition, declaring that it was always thus with these +fevers—he was always cross and low-spirited, and no one +could tell what she had undergone with him.</p> +<p>Then came days of positive pain, and nights of delirious, +dreary murmuring about home and all of us, more especially Ellen +Fordyce. Clarence had no time for letters, and +Martyn’s became a call for mamma, with the old childish +trust in her healing and comforting powers, declaring that he +would meet her at Cologne, and steer her through the difficulties +of foreign travel.</p> +<p>Hesitation was over now. My father was most anxious to +send her, and she set forth, secure that she could infuse life, +energy, and resolution into her son, when those two poor boys had +failed.</p> +<p>It was not, however, Martyn who met her, but his friend +Thomson, with the tidings that the suffering had become so severe +as to prevent Martyn from leaving Baden, not only on his +brother’s account, but because Lady Peacock had at last +taken alarm, and was so uncontrollable in her distress that he +was needed to keep her out of the sickroom, where her presence, +poor thing, only did mischief.</p> +<p>She evidently had a certain affection for her husband; and it +was the more piteous that in his present state he only regarded +her as the tempter who had ruined his life—his false +Duessa, who had led him away from Una. On one unhappy +evening he had been almost maddened by her insisting on arguing +with him; he called her a hag, declared she had been the death of +his children, the death of that dear one—could she not let +him alone now she had been the death of himself?</p> +<p>When Martyn took her away, she wept bitterly, and told enough +to make the misery of their life apparent, when the gaiety was +over, and regrets and recriminations set in.</p> +<p>However, there came a calmer interval, when the suffering +passed off, but in the manner which made the German doctor +intimate that hope was over. Would life last till his +mother came?</p> +<p>His brothers had striven from the first to awaken thoughts of +higher things, and turn remorse into repentance; but every +attempt resulted in strange, sad wanderings about Esau, the +birthright, and the blessing. Indeed, these might not have +been entirely wanderings, for once he said, ‘It is better +this way, Bill. You don’t know what you wish in +trying to bring me round. Don’t be hard on me. +She drove me to it. It is all right now. The Jews +will be disappointed.’</p> +<p>For even at the crisis in London, he had concealed that he had +raised money on <i>post obits</i>, so that, had he outlived my +father, Chantry House would have been lost. Lady +Peacock’s fortune had been undermined when she married him; +extravagance and gambling had made short work of the rest.</p> +<p>Why should I speak of such things here, except to mourn over +our much-loved brother, with all his fine qualities and powers +wasted and overthrown? He clung to Clarence’s +affection, and submitted to prayers and psalms, but without +response. He showed tender recollection of us all, but +scarcely durst think of his father, and hardly appeared to wish +to see his mother. Clarence’s object soon came to be +to obtain forgiveness for the wife, since bitterness against her +seemed the great obstacle to seeking pardon, peace, or hope; but +each attempt only produced such bitterness against her, and such +regrets and mourning for Ellen, as fearfully shook the failing +frame, while he moaned forth complaints of the blandishments and +raillery with which his temptress had beguiled him. +Clarence tried in vain to turn away this idea, but nothing had +any effect till he bethought himself of Ellen’s message, +that she knew even this fatal act had been prompted by generosity +of spirit. There was truth enough in it to touch Griff, but +only so far as to cry, ‘What might I not have been with +her?’ Still, there was no real softening till my +mother came. He knew her at once, and all the old childish +relations were renewed between them. There was little time +left now, but he was wholly hers. Even Clarence was almost +set aside, save where strength was needed, and the mother seemed +to have equal control of spirit and body. It was she, who, +scarcely aware of what had gone before, caused him to admit +Selina.</p> +<p>‘Tell her not to talk,’ he said. ‘But +we have each much to forgive one another.’</p> +<p>She came in, awed and silent, and he let her kiss him, sit +near at hand, and wait on my mother, whose coming had, as it +were, insensibly taken the bitterness away and made him as a +little child in her hands. He could follow prayers in which +she led him, as he could not, or did not seem to do, with any one +else, for he was never conscious of the presence of the clergyman +whom Thomson hunted up and brought, and who prayed aloud with +Martyn while the physical agony claimed both my mother and +Clarence.</p> +<p>Once Griff looked about him and called out for our father, +then recollecting, muttered, ‘No—the birthright +gone—no blessing.’</p> +<p>It grieved us much, it grieves me now, that this was his last +distinct utterance. He <i>looked</i> as if the comforting +replies and the appeals to the Source of all redemption did +awaken a response, but he never spoke articulately again; and +only thirty-six hours after my mother’s arrival, all was +over.</p> +<p>Poor Selina went into passions of hysterics and transports of +grief, needing all the firmness of so resolute a woman as my +mother to deal with her. She was wild in self-accusation, +and became so ill that the care of her was a not unwholesome +occupation for my mother, who was one of those with whom sorrow +has little immediate outlet, and is therefore the more +enduring.</p> +<p>She would not bring our brother’s coffin home, thinking +the agitation would be hurtful to my father, and anxious to get +back to him as soon as possible. So Griff was buried at +Baden, and from time to time some of us have visited his +grave. Of course she proposed Selina’s return to +Chantry House with her; but Mr. Clarkson, the brother, had come +out to the funeral, and took his sister home with him, certainly +much to our relief, though all the sad party at Baden had drawn +much nearer together in these latter days.</p> +<h2><a name="page337"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +337</span>CHAPTER XXXIX.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A PURPOSE.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p> ‘It then draws near the +season<br /> +Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Hamlet</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">We</span> had really lost our Griffith +long before—our bright, generous, warm-hearted, promising +Griff, the brilliance of our home; but his actual death made the +first breach in a hitherto unbroken family, and was a new and +strange shock. It made my father absolutely an old man; and +it also changed Martyn. His first contact with +responsibility, suffering, and death had demolished the +light-hearted boyishness which had lasted in the youngest of the +family through all his high aspirations. Till his return to +Oxford, his chief solace was in getting some one of us alone, +going through all the scenes at Baden, discussing his new +impressions of the trials and perplexities of life, and seeking +out passages in the books that were becoming our oracles. +What he had admired externally before, he was grasping from +within; nor can I describe what the <i>Lyra Apostolica</i>, and +the two first volumes of <i>Parochial Sermons preached at +Littlemore</i>, became to us.</p> +<p>Mr. Clarkson had been rather dry with my brothers at Baden, +evidently considering that poor Griffith had been as fatal to his +sister as we thought Selina had been to our brother. It was +hardly just, for there had been much more to spoil in him than in +her; and though she would hardly have trod a much higher path, +there is no saying what he might have been but for her.</p> +<p>Griffith had said nothing about providing for her, not having +forgiven her till he was past recollecting the need, but her +brother had intimated that something was due from the family, and +Clarence had assented—not, indeed, as to her deserts, poor +woman, but her claims and her needs—well knowing that my +father would never suffer Griff’s widow to be in want.</p> +<p>He judged rightly. My father was nervously anxious to +arrange for giving her £500 a year, in the manner most +likely to prevent her from making away with it, and leaving +herself destitute. But there had already been heavy pulls +on his funded property, and ways and means had to be considered, +making Clarence realise that he had become the heir. +Somehow, there still remained, especially with my mother and +himself, a sense of his being a failure, and an inferior +substitute, although my father had long come to lean upon him, as +never had been the case with our poor Griff.</p> +<p>The first idea of raising the amount required was by selling +an outlying bit of the estate near the Wattlesea Station, for +which an enterprising builder was making offers, either to +purchase or take on a building lease. My father had +received several letters on the subject, and only hesitated from +a feeling against breaking up the estate, especially if this were +part of the original Chantry House property, and not a more +recent acquisition of the Winslows. Moreover, he would do +nothing without Clarence’s participation.</p> +<p>The title-deeds were not in the house, for my father had had +too much of the law to meddle more than he could help with his +own affairs, and had left them in the hands of the family +solicitor at Bristol, where Clarence was to go and look over +them. He rejoiced in the opportunity of being able to see +whether anything would throw light on the story of the mullion +chamber; and the certainty that the Wattlesea property had never +been part of the old endowment of the Chantry did not seem nearly +so interesting as a packet of yellow letters tied with faded red +tape. Mr. Ryder made no difficulty in entrusting these to +him, and we read them by our midnight lamp.</p> +<p>Clarence had seen poor Margaret’s will, bequeathing her +entire property to her husband’s son, Philip Winslow, and +had noted the date, 1705; also the copy of the decision in the +Court of Probate that there was no sufficient evidence of entail +on the Fordyce family to bar her power of disposing of it. +We eagerly opened the letters, but found them disappointing, as +they were mostly offerings of ‘Felicitations’ to +Philip Winslow on having established his ‘Just +Claim,’ and ‘refuted the malicious Accusations of +Calumny.’ They only served to prove the fact that he +had been accused of something, and likewise that he had powerful +friends, and was thought worth being treated with adulation, +according to the fashion of his day. Perhaps it was hardly +to be expected that he should have preserved evidence against +himself, but it was baffling to sift so little out of such a mass +of correspondence. If we could have had access to the +Fordyce papers, no doubt they would have given the other phase of +the transaction, but they were unattainable. The only +public record that Clarence could discover was much abbreviated, +and though there was some allusion to intimidation, the decision +seemed to have been fixed by the non-existence of any entail.</p> +<p>Christmas was drawing on, and gathering together what was left +of us. Though Griffith had spent only one Christmas at home +in nine years, it was wonderful how few we seemed, even when +Martyn returned. My father liked to have us about him, and +even spoke of Clarence’s giving up his post as manager at +Bristol, and living entirely at home to attend to the estate; but +my mother did not encourage the idea. She could not quite +bear to accept any one in Griff’s place, and rightly +thought there was not occupation enough to justify bringing +Clarence home. I was competent to assist my father through +all the landlord’s business that came to him within doors, +and Emily had ridden and walked about enough with him to be an +efficient inspector of crops and repairs, besides that Clarence +himself was within reach.</p> +<p>‘Indeed,’ he said to me, ‘I cannot loose my +hold on Frith and Castleford till I see my way into the +future.’</p> +<p>I did not know what he intended either then or when he gave +his voice against dismembering the property by selling the +Wattlesea estate, but arranged for raising Selina’s income +otherwise, persuading my father to let him undertake the building +of the required cottages out of his own resources, on principles +much more wholesome than were likely to be employed by the +speculator. Nor did grasp what was in his mind when he made +me look out my ‘ghost journal,’ as we called my +record of each apparition reported in the mullion chamber or the +lawn, with marks to those about which we had no reasonable +doubt. Separately there might be explanation, but +conjointly and in connection with the date they had a remarkable +force.</p> +<p>‘I am resolved,’ said Clarence, ‘to see +whether that figure can have a purpose. I have thought of +it all those years. It has hitherto had no fair play. +I was too much upset by the sight, and beaten by the utter +incredulity of everybody else; but now I am determined to look +into it.’</p> +<p>There was both awe and resolution in his countenance, and I +only stipulated that he should not be alone, or with no more +locomotive companion than myself. Martyn was as old as I +had been at our former vigil, and a person to be relied on.</p> +<p>A few months ago he would have treated the matter as a curious +adventurous enterprise—a concession to superstition or +imagination; but now he took it up with much grave +earnestness. He had been discussing the evidence for such +phenomena with friends at Oxford, and the conclusion had been +that they were at times permitted, sometimes as warnings, +sometimes to accomplish the redress of a wrong, sometimes to +teach us the reality of the spiritual world about us; and, +likewise, that some constitutions were more susceptible than +others to these influences. Of course he had adduced all +that he knew of his domestic haunted chamber, but had found +himself uncertain as to the amount of direct or trustworthy +evidence. So he eagerly read our jottings, and was very +anxious to keep watch with Clarence, though there were greater +difficulties in the way than when the outer chamber was +Griffith’s sitting-room, and always had a fire lighted.</p> +<p>To our disappointment, likewise, there came an invitation from +the Eastwoods for the evening of the 27th of December, the second +of the recurring days of the phantom’s appearance. My +father could not, and my mother would not go, but they so much +wanted my brothers and sister to accept it that it could not well +be declined. It was partly a political affair, and my +father was anxious to put Clarence forward, and make him take his +place as the future squire; and my mother thought depression had +lasted long enough with her children, and did not like to see +Martyn so grave and preoccupied. ‘It was quite right +and very nice in him, dear boy, but it was not natural at his +age, though he was to be a clergyman.’</p> +<p>As to Emily, her gentle cheerfulness had helped us all through +our time of sorrow, and just now we had been gratified by the +tidings of young Lawrence Frith. That youth was doing +extremely well. There had been golden reports from manager +and chaplain, addressed to Mr. Castleford, the latter adding that +the young man evidently owed much to Mr. Winslow’s +influence. Moreover, Lawrence had turned out an excellent +correspondent. Long letters, worthy of forming a book of +travels, came regularly to Clarence and me, indeed they were +thought worth being copied into that fat clasped MS. book in the +study. Writing them must have been a real solace to the +exile, in his island outside the town, whither all the outer +barbarians were relegated. So, no doubt, was the packing of +the gifts that were gradually making Prospect Cottage into a +Chinese exhibition of nodding mandarins, ivory balls, exquisite +little cups, and faggots of tea. Also, a Chinese walking +doll was sent humbly as an offering for the amusement of Miss +Winslow’s school children, whom indeed she astonished +beyond measure; and though her wheels are out of order, and her +movements uncertain, she is still a stereotyped incident in the +Christmas entertainments.</p> +<p>There was no question but that these letters and remembrances +gave great pleasure to Emily; but I believe she was not in the +least conscious that though greater in degree, it was not of the +same quality as that she felt when a runaway scholar who had gone +to sea presented her in token of gratitude with a couple of dried +sea-horses.</p> +<h2><a name="page344"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +344</span>CHAPTER XL.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE MIDNIGHT CHASE.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘What human creature in the dead of night<br +/> + Had coursed, like hunted hare, that cruel +distance,<br /> +Had sought the door, the window in her flight<br /> + Striving for dear existence?’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Hood</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">On</span> the night of the 26th of +December, Clarence and Martyn, well wrapped in greatcoats, stole +into the outer mullion room; but though the usual sounds were +heard, and the mysterious light again appeared, Martyn perceived +nothing else, and even Clarence declared that if there were +anything besides, it was far less distinct to him than it had +been previously. Could it be that his spiritual perceptions +were growing dimmer as he became older, and outgrew the +sensitiveness of nerves and imagination?</p> +<p>We came to the conclusion that it would be best to watch the +outside of the house, rather than within the chamber; and the +dinner-party facilitated this, since it accounted for being up +and about nearer to the hour when the ghost might be +expected. Egress could be had through the little garden +door, and I undertook to sit up and keep up the fire.</p> +<p>All three came to my room on their return home, for Emily had +become aware of our scheme, and entreated to be allowed to watch +with us. Clarence had unfastened the alarum bell from my +shutters, and taken down the bar after the curtains had been +drawn by the housemaid, and he now opened them. It was a +frosty moonlight night, and the lawn lay white and crisp, marked +with fantastic shadows. The others looked grave and pale, +Emily was in a thick white shawl and hood, with a swan’s +down boa over her black dress, a somewhat ghostly figure herself, +but we were in far too serious a mood for light observations.</p> +<p>There was something of a shudder about Clarence as he went to +unbolt the back door; Martyn kept close to him. We saw them +outside, and then Emily flew after them. From my window I +could watch them advancing on the central gravel walk, Emily +standing still between her brothers, clasping an arm of +each. I saw the light near the ruin, and caught some sounds +as of shrieks and of threatening voices, the light flitted +towards the gable of the mullion rooms, and then was the +concluding scream. All was over, and the three came back +much agitated, Emily sinking into an armchair, panting, her hands +over her face, and a nervous trembling through her whole frame, +Martyn’s eyes looking wide and scared, Clarence with the +well-known look of terror on his face. He hurried to fetch +the tray of wine and water that was always left on the table when +anyone went to a party at night, but he shivered too much to +prevent the glasses from jingling, and I had to pour out the +sherry and administer it to Emily. ‘Oh! poor, poor +thing,’ she gasped out.</p> +<p>‘You saw?’ I exclaimed.</p> +<p>‘They did,’ said Martyn; ‘I only saw the +light, and heard! That was enough!’ and he shuddered +again.</p> +<p>‘Then Emily did,’ I began, but Clarence cut me +short. ‘Don’t ask her to-night.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! let me tell,’ cried Emily; ‘I +can’t go away to bed till I have had it out.’</p> +<p>Then she gave the details, which were the more notable because +she had not, like Martyn, been studying our jottings, and had +heard comparatively little of the apparition.</p> +<p>‘When I joined the boys,’ she said, ‘I +looked toward the mullion rooms; I saw the windows lighted up, +and heard a sobbing and crying inside.’</p> +<p>‘So did I,’ put in Martyn, and Clarence bent his +head.</p> +<p>‘Then,’ added Emily, ‘by the moonlight I saw +the gable end, not blank, and covered by the magnolia as it is +now, but with stone steps up to the bricked-up doorway. The +door opened, the light spread, and there came out a lady in +black, with a lamp in one hand, and a kind of parcel in the +other, and oh, when she turned her face this way, it was +Ellen’s!’</p> +<p>‘So you called out,’ whispered Martyn.</p> +<p>‘Dear Ellen, not as she used to be,’ added Emily, +‘but like what she was when last I saw her; no, hardly that +either, for this was sad, sad, scared, terrified, with eyes all +tears, as Ellen never, never was.’</p> +<p>‘I saw,’ added Clarence, ‘I saw the shape, +but not the countenance and expression as I used to +do.’</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image346" href="images/p346b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Lady Margaret’s ghost" +title= +"Lady Margaret’s ghost" + src="images/p346s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>‘She came down the steps,’ continued Emily, +‘looking about her as if making her escape, but, just as +she came opposite to us, there was a sound of tipsy laughing and +singing from the gate up by the wood.’</p> +<p>‘I thought it real,’ said Martyn.</p> +<p>‘Then,’ continued Emily, ‘she wavered, then +turned and went under an arch in the ruin—I fancied she was +hiding something—then came out and fled across to the +steps; but there were two dark men rushing after her, and at the +stone steps there was a frightful shriek, and then it was all +over, the steps gone, all quiet, and the magnolia leaves +glistening in the moonshine. Oh! what can it all +mean?’</p> +<p>‘Went under the arch,’ repeated Clarence. +‘Is it what she hid there that keeps her from +resting?’</p> +<p>‘Then you believe it really happened?’ said Emily, +‘that some terrible scene is being acted over again. +Oh! but can it be the real spirits!’</p> +<p>‘That is one of the great mysteries,’ answered +Martyn; ‘but I could tell you of other +instances.’</p> +<p>‘Don’t now,’ I interposed; ‘Emily has +had quite enough.’</p> +<p>We reminded her that the ghastly tragedy was over and would +not recur again for another year; but she was greatly shaken, and +we were very sorry for her, when the clock warned her to go to +her own room, whither Martyn escorted her. He lighted every +candle he could find, and revived the fire; but she was sadly +overcome by what she had witnessed, she lay awake all the rest of +the night, and in the morning, looked so unwell, and had so +little to tell about the party that my mother thought her spirits +had been too much broken for gaieties.</p> +<p>The real cause could not be confessed, for it would have been +ascribed to some kind of delirium, and have made a commotion for +which my father was unfit. Besides, we had reached an age +when, though we would not have disobeyed, liberty of thought and +action had become needful. All our private confabulations +were on this extraordinary scene. We looked for the arch in +the ruin, but there was, as our morning senses told us, nothing +of the kind. She tried to sketch her remembrance of both +that and the gable of the mullion chamber, and Martyn prowled +about in search of some hiding-place. Our antiquarian +friend, Mr. Stafford, had made a conjectural drawing of the +Chapel restored, and all the portfolios about the house were +searched for it, disquieting mamma, who suspected Martyn’s +Oxford notions of intending to rebuild it, nor would he say that +it ought not to be done. However, he with his more advanced +ecclesiology, pronounced Mr. Stafford’s reconstruction to +be absolutely mistaken and impossible, and set to work on a fresh +plan, which, by the bye, he derides at present. It +afforded, however, an excuse for routing under the ivy and among +the stones, but without much profit. From the mouldings on +the materials and in the stables and the front porch, it was +evident that the chapel had been used as a quarry, and +Emily’s arch was very probably that of the entrance +door. In a dry summer, the foundations of the walls and +piers could be traced on the turf, and the stumps of one or two +columns remained, but the rest was only a confused heap of +fragments within which no one could have entered as in that +strange vision.</p> +<p>Another thing became clear. There had once been a wall +between the beech wood and the lawn, with a gate or door in it; +Chapman could just remember its being taken down, in James +Winslow’s early married life, when landscape gardening was +the fashion. It must have been through this that the +Winslow brothers were returning, when poor Margaret perhaps +expected them to enter by the front.</p> +<p>We wished we could have consulted Dame Dearlove, but she had +died a few years before, and her school was extinct.</p> +<h2><a name="page350"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +350</span>CHAPTER XLI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">WILLS OLD AND NEW.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘And that to-night thou must watch with +me<br /> + To win the treasure of the tomb.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Scott</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Some</span> seasons seem to be peculiarly +marked, as if Death did indeed walk forth in them.</p> +<p>Old Mr. Frith died in the spring of 1841, and it proved that +he had shown his gratitude to Clarence by a legacy of shares in +the firm amounting to about £2000. The rest of his +interest therein went to Lawrence Frith, and his funded property +to his sister, Mrs. Stevens, a very fair and upright disposition +of his wealth.</p> +<p>Only six weeks later, my father had a sudden seizure, and +there was only time to summon Clarence from London and Martyn +from Oxford, before a second attack closed his righteous and +godly career upon earth.</p> +<p>My mother was very still and calm, hardly shedding a tear, but +her whole demeanour was as if life were over for her, and she had +nothing to do save to wait. She seemed to care very little +for tendernesses or attentions on our part. No doubt she +would have been more desolate without them, but we always had a +baffled feeling, as though our affection were contrasted with her +perfect union with her husband. Yet they had been a +singularly undemonstrative couple; I never saw a kiss pass +between them, except as greeting or farewell before or after a +journey; and if my mother could not use the terms papa or your +father, she always said, ‘Mr. Winslow.’ There +was a large gathering at the funeral, including Mr. Fordyce, but +he slept at Hillside, and we scarcely saw him—only for a +few kind words and squeezes of the hand. Holy Week was +begun, and he had to hurry back to Beachharbour that very +night.</p> +<p>The will had been made on my father’s coming into the +inheritance. It provided a jointure of £800 per annum +for my mother, and gave each of the younger children +£3000. A codicil had been added shortly after +Griffith’s death, written in my father’s hand, and +witnessed by Mr. Henderson and Amos Bell. This put Clarence +in the position of heir; secured £500 a year to +Griffith’s widow, charged on the estate, and likewise an +additional £200 a year to Emily and to me, hers till +marriage, mine for life, £300 a year to Martyn, until +Earlscombe Rectory should be voided, when it was to be offered to +him. The executors had originally been Mr. Castleford and +my mother, but by this codicil, Clarence was substituted for the +former.</p> +<p>The legacies did not come out of the Chantry House property, +for my father had, of course, means of his own besides, and +bequests had accrued to both him and my mother; but Clarence was +inheriting the estate much more burthened than it had been in +1829, having £2000 a year to raise out of its proceeds.</p> +<p>My mother was quite equal to business, with a sort of outside +sense, which she applied to it when needful. Clarence made +it at once evident to her that she was still mistress of Chantry +House, and that it was still to be our home; and she immediately +calculated what each ought to contribute to the +housekeeping. She looked rather blank when she found that +Clarence did not mean to give up business, nor even to become a +sleeping partner; but when she examined into ways and means, she +allowed that he was prudent, and that perhaps it was due to Mr. +Castleford not to deprive him of an efficient helper under +present circumstances. Meantime she was content to do her +best for Earlscombe ‘for the present,’ by which she +meant till her son brought home a wife; but we knew that to him +the words bore a different meaning, though he was still in doubt +and uncertainty how to act, and what might be the wrong to be +undone.</p> +<p>He was anxious to persuade her to go from home for a short +time, and prevailed on her at last to take Emily and me to +Dawlish, while the repairs went on which had been deferred during +my father’s feebleness; at least that was the excuse. +We two, going with great regret, knew that his real reason was to +have an opportunity for a search among the ruins.</p> +<p>It was in June, just as Martyn came back from Oxford, eager to +share in the quest. Those two brothers would trust no one +to help them, but one by one, in the long summer evenings, they +moved each of those stones; I believe the servants thought they +were crazed, but they could explain with some truth that they +wanted to clear up the disputed points as to the architecture, as +indeed they succeeded in doing.</p> +<p>They had, however, nearly given up, having reached the +original pavement and disinterred the piscina of the side altar, +also a beautiful coffin lid with a floriated cross; when, in a +kind of hollow, Martyn lit upon the rotten remains of something +silken, knotted together. It seemed to have enclosed a +bundle. There were some rags that might have been a change +of clothing, also a Prayer-book, decayed completely except the +leathern covering, inside which was the startling inscription, +‘Margaret Winslow, her booke; Lord, have mercy on a +miserable widow woman.’ There was also a thick +leathern roll, containing needles, pins, and scissors, entirely +corroded, and within these a paper, carefully folded, but almost +destroyed by the action of damp and the rust of the steel, so +that only thus much was visible. ‘I, Margaret +Winslow, being of sound mind, do hereby give and +bequeath—’</p> +<p>Then came stains that defaced every line, till the extreme +end, where a seal remained; the date 1707 was legible, and there +were some scrawls, probably the poor lady’s signature, and +perhaps that of witnesses. Clarence and Martyn said very +little to one another, but they set out for Dawlish the next +day.</p> +<p>‘Found’ was indicated to us, but no more, for they +arrived late, and had to sleep at the hotel, after an evening +when we were delighted to hear my mother ask so many questions +about household and parish affairs. In the morning she was +pleased to send all ‘the children’ out on the beach, +then free from the railway. It was a beautiful day, with +the intensely blue South Devon sea dancing in golden ripples, and +breaking on the shore with the sound Clarence loved so well, as, +in the shade of the dark crimson cliffs, Emily sat at my feet and +my brothers unfolded their strange discoveries into her +lap. There was a kind of solemnity in the thing; we +scarcely spoke, except that Emily said, ‘Oh, will she come +again,’ and, as the tears gathered at sight of the pathetic +petition in the old book, ‘Was that granted?’</p> +<p>We reconstructed our theory. The poor lady must have +repented of the unjust will forced from her by her stepsons, and +contrived to make another; but she must have been kept a captive +until, during their absence at some Christmas convivialities, she +tried to escape; but hearing sounds betokening their return, she +had only time to hide the bundle in the ruin before she was +detected, and in the scuffle received a fatal blow.</p> +<p>‘But why,’ I objected, ‘did she not remain +hidden till her enemies were safe in the house?’</p> +<p>‘Terrified beyond the use of her senses,’ said +Clarence.</p> +<p>‘By all accounts,’ said Martyn, ‘the poor +creature must have been rather a silly woman.’</p> +<p>‘For shame, Martyn,’ cried Emily, ‘how can +you tell? They might have seen her go in, or she might have +feared being missed.’</p> +<p>‘Or if you watch next Christmas you may see it all +explained.’</p> +<p>To which Emily replied with a shiver that nothing would induce +her to go through it again, and indeed she hoped the spirit would +rest since the discovery had been made.</p> +<p>‘And then?’—one of us said, and there was a +silence, and another futile attempt to read the will.</p> +<p>‘I shall take it to London and see what an expert can do +with it,’ said Clarence. ‘I have heard of +wonderful decipherings in the Record Office; but you will +remember that even if it can be made out, it will hardly +invalidate our possession after a hundred and thirty +years.’</p> +<p>‘Clarence!’ cried Emily in a horrified voice; and +I asked if the date were not later than that by which we +inherited.</p> +<p>‘Three years,’ Clarence said, ‘yes; but as +things stand, it is absolutely impossible for me to make +restitution at present.’</p> +<p>‘On account of the burthens on the estate?’ I +said.</p> +<p>‘Oh, but we could give up,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘I dare say!’ said Clarence, smiling; ‘but +to say nothing of poor Selina, my mother would hardly see it in +the same light, nor should I deal rightly, even if I could make +any alterations; I doubt whether my father would have held +himself bound—certainly not while no one can read this +document.’</p> +<p>‘It would simply outrage his legal mind,’ said +Martyn.</p> +<p>‘Then what is to be done? Is the injustice to be +perpetual?’ asked Emily.</p> +<p>‘This is what I have thought of,’ said +Clarence. ‘We must leave matters as they are till I +can realise enough either to pay off all these bequests, or to +offer Mr. Fordyce the value of the estate.’</p> +<p>‘It is not the whole,’ I said.</p> +<p>‘Not the Wattlesea part. This means Chantry House +and the three farms in the village. £10,000 would +cover it.’</p> +<p>‘Is it possible?’ asked Emily.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ returned Clarence, ‘God helping +me. You know our concern is bringing in good returns, and +Mr. Castleford will put me in the way of doing more with my +available capital.’</p> +<p>‘We will save so as to help you!’ added +Emily. At which he smiled.</p> +<h2><a name="page357"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +357</span>CHAPTER XLII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">ON A SPREE.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Her eyes as stars of twilight fair,<br /> +Like twilight too, her dusky hair,<br /> +But all things else about her drawn<br /> +From May-time and the cheerful dawn,<br /> +A dancing shape, an image gay,<br /> +To haunt, to startle, and waylay.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Wordsworth</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Clarence</span> went to London according +to his determination, and as he had for some time been urgent +that I should try some newly-invented mechanical appliances, he +took me with him, this being the last expedition of the ancient +yellow chariot. One of his objects was that I should see +St. Paul’s, Knightsbridge, which was then the most +distinguished church of our school of thought, and where there +was to be some special preaching. The Castlefords had a +seat there, and I was settled there in good time, looking at the +few bits of stained glass then in the east window, when, as the +clergy came in from the vestry, I beheld a familiar face, and +recognised the fine countenance and bearing of our dear old +friend Frank Fordyce.</p> +<p>Then, looking at the row of ladies in front of me, I beheld +for a moment an outline of a profile recalling many things. +No doubt, Anne Fordyce was there, though instead of barely +emulating my stunted stature, she towered above her companions, +looking to my mind most fresh and graceful in her pretty summer +dress; and I knew that Clarence saw her too.</p> +<p>I had never heard Mr. Fordyce preach before, as in his flying +visits his ministrations were due at Hillside; and I certainly +should have been struck with the force and beauty of his sermon +if I had never known him before. It was curious that it was +on the 49th Psalm, meant perhaps for the fashionable +congregation, but remarkably chiming in with the feelings of us, +who were conscious of an inheritance of evil from one who had +‘done well unto himself;’ though, no doubt, that was +the last thing honest Parson Frank was thinking of.</p> +<p>When the service was over, and Anne turned, she became aware +of us, and her face beamed all over. It was a charming +face, with a general likeness to dear Ellen’s, but without +the fragile ethereal look, and all health, bloom, and enjoyment +recalling her father’s. She was only moving to let +her pew-fellows pass out, and was waiting for him to come for +her, as he did in a few moments, and he too was all pleasure and +cordiality. He told us when we were outside that he had +come up to preach, and ‘had brought Miss Anne up for a +spree.’ They were at a hotel, Mrs. Fordyce was at +home, and the Lesters were not in town this season—a matter +of rejoicing to us. Could we not come home and dine with +them at once? We were too much afraid of disappointing +Gooch to do so, but they made an appointment to meet us at the +Royal Academy as soon as it was open the next morning.</p> +<p>There was a fortnight of enjoyment. Parson Frank was +like a boy out for a holiday. He had not spent more than a +day or two in town for many years; Anne had not been there since +early childhood, and they adopted Clarence as their lioniser, +going through such a country-cousin course of delights as in that +memorable time with Ellen. They even went down to Eton and +Windsor, Frank Fordyce being an old Etonian. I doubt +whether Clarence ever had a more thoroughly happy time, not even +in the north of Devon, for there was no horse on his mind, and he +was not suppressed as in those days. Indeed, I believe, it +is the experience of others besides ourselves that there is often +more unmixed pleasure on casual holidays like this than in those +of early youth; for even if spirits are less high (which is not +always the case), anticipations are less eager, there is more +readiness to accept whatever comes, more matured appreciation, +and less fret and friction at <i>contretemps</i>.</p> +<p>I was not much of a drag, for when I could not be with the +others, I had old friends, and the museum was as dear to me as +ever, in those recesses that had been the paradise of my youth; +but there was a good deal in which we could all share, and as +usual they were all kind consideration.</p> +<p>Anne overflowed with minute remembrances of her old home, and +Clarence so basked in her sunshine that it began to strike me +that here might be the solution of all the perplexities +especially after the first evening, when he had shown his strange +discovery to Mr. Fordyce, who simply laughed and said we need not +trouble ourselves about it. Illegible was it? He was +heartily glad to hear that it was. Even otherwise, forty +years’ possession was quite enough, and then he pointed to +the grate, and said that was the best place for such +things. There was no fire, but Clarence could hardly rescue +the paper from being torn up.</p> +<p>As to the ghost, he knew much less than his daughter Ellen had +done. He said his old aunt had some stories about Chantry +House being haunted, and had thought it incumbent on her to hate +the Winslows, but he had thought it all nonsense, and such +stories were much better forgotten. ‘Would he not see +if there were any letters?’</p> +<p>There might be, perhaps in the solicitor’s office at +Bath, but if he ever got hold of them, he should certainly burn +them. What was the use of being Christians, if such +quarrels were to be remembered?</p> +<p>Anne knew nothing. Aunt Peggy had died before she could +remember, and even Martyn had been discreet. Clarence said +no more after that one conversation, and seemed to me engrossed +between his necessary business at the office, and the pleasant +expeditions with the Fordyces. Only when they were on the +point of returning home, did he tell me that the will had been +pronounced utterly past deciphering, and that he thought he saw a +way of setting all straight. ‘So do I,’ was my +rejoinder, and there must have been a foolishly sagacious +expression about me that made him colour up, and say, ‘No +such thing, Edward. Don’t put that into my +head.’</p> +<p>‘Isn’t it there already?’</p> +<p>‘It ought not to be. It would be mere treachery in +these sweet, fresh, young, innocent, days of hers, knowing too +what her mother would think of it and of me. Didn’t +you observe in old Frank’s unguarded way of reading letters +aloud, and then trying to suppress bits, that Mrs. Fordyce was +not at all happy at our being so much about with them, poor +woman. No wonder! the child is too young,’ he added, +showing how much, after all, he was thinking of it. +‘It would be taking a base advantage of them +<i>now</i>.’</p> +<p>‘But by and by?’</p> +<p>‘If she should be still free when the great end is +achieved and the evil repaired, then I might dare.’</p> +<p>He broke off with a look of glad hope, and I could see it was +forbearance rather than constitutional diffidence that withheld +him from awakening the maiden’s feelings. He was a +very fine looking man, in his prime—tall, strong, and well +made, with a singularly grave, thoughtful expression, and a rare +but most winning smile; and Anne was overflowing with +affectionate gladness at intercourse with one who belonged to the +golden age of her childhood. I could scarcely believe but +that in the friction of the parting the spark would be elicited, +and I should even have liked to kindle it for them myself, being +tolerably certain that warm-hearted, unguarded Parson Frank would +forget all about his lady and blow it with all his might.</p> +<p>We dined with the Fordyces at their hotel, and sat in the +twilight with the windows open, and we made Anne and Clarence +sing, as both could do without notes, but he would not undertake +to remember anything with an atom of sentiment in it, and when +Anne did sing, ‘Auld lang syne,’ with all her heart, +he went and got into a dark corner, and barely said, ‘Thank +you.’</p> +<p>Not a definite answer could be extracted from him in reply to +all the warm invitations to Beachharbour that were lavished on us +by the father, while the daughter expatiated on its charms; the +rocks I might sketch, the waves and the delicious boating, and +above all the fisher children and the church. Nothing was +wanting but to have us all there! Why had we not brought +Mrs. Winslow, and Emily, and Martyn, instead of going to +Dawlish?</p> +<p>Good creatures, they little knew the chill that had been cast +upon Martyn. They even bemoaned the having seen so little +of him. And we knew all the time that they were mice at +play in the absence of their excellent and cautious cat.</p> +<p>‘Now mind you do come!’ said Anne, as we were in +the act of taking leave. ‘It would be as good as +Hillside to have you by my Lion rock. He has a nose just +like old Chapman’s, and you must sketch it before it +crumbles off. Yes, and I want to show you all the dear old +things you made for my baby-house after the fire, your dear +little wardrobe and all.’</p> +<p>She was coming out with us, oblivious that a London hotel was +not like her own free sea-side house. Her father was out at +the carriage door, prepared to help me in, Clarence halted a +moment—</p> +<p>‘Please, pray, go back, Anne,’ he said, and his +voice trembled. ‘This is not home you +know.’</p> +<p>She started back, but paused. ‘You’ll not +forget.’</p> +<p>‘Oh no; no fear of my forgetting.’</p> +<p>And when seated beside me, he leant back with a sigh.</p> +<p>‘How could you help?’ I said.</p> +<p>‘How? Why the perfect, innocent, childish, +unconsciousness of the thing,’ he said, and became silent +except for one murmur on the way.</p> +<p>‘Consequences must be borne—’</p> +<h2><a name="page364"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +364</span>CHAPTER XLIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE PRICE.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘With thee, my bark, I’ll swiftly +go<br /> + Athwart the foaming brine.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Lord +Byron</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Clarence</span> would not tell me his +purpose, he said, till he had considered it more fully; nor could +we have much conversation on the way home, as my mother had +arranged that we should bring an old friend of hers back with us +to pay her a visit. So I had to sit inside and make myself +agreeable to Mrs. Wrightson, while Clarence had plenty of leisure +for meditation outside on the box seat. The good lady said +much on the desirableness of marriage for Clarence, and the +comfort it would be to my mother to see Emily settled.</p> +<p>We had heard much in town of railway shares; and the fortunes +of Hudson, the railway king, were under discussion. I +suspected Clarence of cogitating the using his capital in this +manner; and hoped that when he saw his way, he might not think it +dishonourable to come into further contact with Anne, and reveal +his hopes. He allowed that he was considering of such +investments, but would not say any more.</p> +<p>My mother and Emily had, in the meantime, been escorted home +by Martyn. The first thing Clarence did was to bespeak +Emily’s company in a turn in the garden. What passed +then I never knew nor guessed for years after. He consulted +her whether, in case he were absent from England for five, seven, +or ten years, she would be equal to the care of my mother and +me. Martyn, when ordained, would have duties elsewhere, and +could only be reckoned upon in emergencies. My mother, +though vigorous and practical, had shown symptoms of gout, and if +she were ill, I could hardly have done much for her; and on the +other hand, though my health and powers of moving were at their +best, and I was capable of the headwork of the estate, I was +scarcely fit to be the representative member of the family. +Moreover, these good creatures took into consideration that poor +mamma and I would have been rather at a loss as each +other’s sole companions. I could sort shades for her +Berlin work, and even solve problems of intricate knitting, and I +could read to her in the evening; but I could not trot after her +to her garden, poultry-yard, and cottages; nor could she enter +into the pursuits that Emily had shared with me for so many +years. Our connecting link, that dear sister, knew how +sorely she would be missed, and she told Clarence that she felt +fully competent to undertake, conjointly with us, all that would +be incumbent on Chantry House, if he really wanted to be +absent. For the rest, Clarence believed my mother would be +the happier for being left regent over the estate; and his scheme +broke upon me that very forenoon, when my mother and he were +settling some executor’s business together, and he told her +that Mr. Castleford wished him to go out to Hong Kong, which was +then newly ceded to the English, and where the firm wished to +establish a house of business.</p> +<p>‘You can’t think of it,’ she exclaimed, and +the sound fell like a knell on my ears.</p> +<p>‘I think I must,’ was his answer. ‘We +shall be cut out if we do not get a footing there, and there is +no one who can quite answer the purpose.’</p> +<p>‘Not that young Frith—’</p> +<p>‘Ten to one but he is on his way home. Besides, if +not, he has his own work at Canton. We see our way to very +considerable advantages, if—’</p> +<p>‘Advantages!’ she interrupted. ‘I hate +speculation. I should have thought you might be contented +with your station; but that is the worst of merchants,—they +never know when to stop. I suppose your ambition is to make +this a great overgrown mansion, so that your father would not +know it again.’</p> +<p>‘Certainly not that, mamma,’ said Clarence +smiling; ‘it is the last thing I should think of; but +stopping would in this case mean going backward.’</p> +<p>‘Why can’t Mr. Castleford send one of his own +sons?’</p> +<p>‘Probably Walter may come out by and by, but he has not +experience enough for this.’</p> +<p>Clarence had not in the least anticipated my mother’s +opposition, for he had come to underestimate her affection for +and reliance on him. He had us all against him, for not +only could we not bear to part with him; but the climate of +Hong-Kong was in evil repute, and I had become persuaded that, +with his knowledge of business, railway shares and scrip might be +made to realise the amount needed, but he said, ‘That is +what <i>I</i> call speculation. The other matter is trade +in which, with Heaven’s blessing, I can hope to +prosper.’</p> +<p>He explained that Mr. Castleford had received him on his +coming to London with almost a request that he would undertake +this expedition; but with fears whether, in his new position, he +could or would do so, although his presence in China would be +very important to the firm at this juncture; and there would be +opportunities which would probably result in very considerable +profits after a few years. If Clarence had been, as before, +a mere younger brother, it would have been thought an excellent +chance; and he would almost have felt bound by his obligations to +Mr. Castleford to undertake the first starting of the enterprise, +if it had not been for our recent loss, and the doubt whether he +could he spared from home.</p> +<p>He made light of the dangers of climate. He had never +suffered in that way in his naval days, and scarcely knew what +serious illness meant. Indeed, he had outgrown much of that +sensibility of nerve which had made him so curiously open to +spiritual or semi-spiritual impressions.</p> +<p>‘Any way,’ he said, ‘the thing is right to +be done, provided my mother does not make an absolute point of my +giving it up; and whether she does or not depends a good deal on +how you others put it to her.’</p> +<p>‘Right on Mr. Castleford’s account?’ I +asked.</p> +<p>‘That is one side of it. To refuse would put him +in a serious difficulty; but I could perhaps come home sooner if +it were not for this other matter. I told him so far as +that it was an object with me to raise this sum in a few years, +and he showed me how there is every likelihood of my being able +to do so out there. So now I feel in your hands. If +you all, and Edward chiefly, set to and persuade my mother that +this undertaking is a dangerous business, and that I can only be +led to it by inordinate love of riches—’</p> +<p>‘No, no—’</p> +<p>‘That’s what she thinks,’ pursued Clarence, +‘and that I want to be a grander man than my father. +That’s at the bottom of her mind, I see. Well, if you +deplore this, and let her think the place can’t do without +me, she will come out in her strength and make it my duty to stay +at home.’</p> +<p>‘It is very tempting,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘We all undertook to give up something.’</p> +<p>‘We never thought it would come in this way!’</p> +<p>‘We never do,’ said Clarence.</p> +<p>‘Tell me,’ said Martyn, ‘is this to content +that ghost, poor thing? For it is very hard to believe in +her, except in the mullion room in December.’</p> +<p>‘Exactly so, Martyn,’ he answered. +‘Impressions fade, and the intellect fails to accept +them. But I do not think that is my motive. We know +that a wicked deed was done by our ancestor, and we hardly have +the right to pray, “Remember not the sins of our +forefathers,” unless, now that we know the crime, we +attempt what restitution in us lies.’</p> +<p>There was no resisting after this appeal, and after the first +shock, my mother was ready to admit that as Clarence owed +everything to Mr. Castleford, he could not well desert the firm, +if it were really needful for its welfare that he should go +out. We got her to look on Mr. Castleford as captain of the +ship, and Clarence as first lieutenant; and when she was once +convinced that he did not want to aggrandise the family, but to +do his duty, she dropped her objections; and we soon saw that the +occupations that his absence would impose on her would be a fresh +interest in life.</p> +<p>Just as the decision was thus ratified, a packet from Canton +arrived for Clarence from Bristol. It was the first reply +of young Frith to the tidings of the bequest which had changed +the poor clerk to a wealthy man, owning a large proportion of the +shares of the prosperous house.</p> +<p>I asked if he were coming home, and Clarence briefly replied +that he did not know,—‘it depended—’</p> +<p>‘Is he going to wed a fair Chinese with lily +feet?’ asked Martyn, to which the reply was an unusually +discourteous ‘Bosh,’ as Clarence escaped with his +letter. He was so reticent about it that I required a +solemn assurance that poor Lawrence’s head had not been +turned by his fortune, and that there was nothing wrong with +him. Indeed, there was great stupidity in never guessing +the purport of that thick letter, nor that it contained one for +Emily, where Lawrence Frith laid himself, and all that he had, at +her feet, ascribing to her all the resolution with which he had +kept from evil, and entreating permission to come home and +endeavour to win her heart. We lived so constantly together +that it is surprising that Clarence contrived to give the letter +to Emily in private. She implored him to say nothing to us, +and brought him the next day her letter of uncompromising +refusal.</p> +<p>He asked whether it would have been the same if he had +intended to remain at home.</p> +<p>‘As if you were a woman, you conceited fellow,’ +was all the answer she vouchsafed him.</p> +<p>Nor could he ascertain, nor perhaps would she herself examine, +on which side lay her heart of hearts. The proof had come +whether she would abide by her pledge to him to accept the care +of us in his absence. When he asked it, it had not occurred +to him that it might be a renunciation of marriage. Now he +perceived that so it had been, but she kept her counsel and so +did he. We others never guessed at what was going on +between those two.</p> +<h2><a name="page371"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +371</span>CHAPTER XLIV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">PAYING THE COST.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘But oh! the difference to me.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Wordsworth</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">So</span> Clarence was gone, and our new +life begun in its changed aspect. Emily showed an almost +feverish eagerness to make it busy and cheerful, getting up a +sewing class in the village, resuming the study of Greek, +grappling with the natural system in botany, all of which had +been fitfully proposed but hindered by interruptions and my +father’s feebleness.</p> +<p>On a suggestion of Mr. Stafford’s, we set to work on +that <i>History of Letter Writing</i> which, what with collecting +materials, and making translations, lasted us three years +altogether, and was a great resource and pleasure, besides +ultimately bringing in a fraction towards the great +purpose. Emily has confessed that she worked away a good +deal of vague, weary depression, and sense of monotony into those +Greek choruses: but to us she was always a sunbeam, with her ever +ready attention, and the playfulness which resumed more of +genuine mirth after the first effort and strain of spirits were +over.</p> +<p>Then journal-letters on either side began to bridge the gulf +of separation,—those which, minus all the specially +interesting portions, are to be seen in the volume we culled from +them, and which had considerable success in its day.</p> +<p>Martyn worked in the parish and read with Mr. Henderson till +he was old enough for Ordination, and then took the curacy of St. +Wulstan’s, under a hardworking London vicar, and +thenceforth his holidays were our festivals. Our old London +friends pitied us for what they viewed as a fearfully dull life, +and in the visits they occasionally paid us thought they were +doing us a great favour by bringing us new ideas and shooting our +partridges.</p> +<p>We hardly deserved their compassion: our lives were full of +interest to ourselves—that interest which comes of doing +ever so feeble a stroke of work in one great cause; and there was +much keen participation in the general life of the Church in the +crisis through which she was passing. We found that, what +with drawing pictures, writing little books, preparing lessons +for teachers, and much besides which is now ready done by the +National Society and Sunday School Institute, we could do a good +deal to assist Martyn in his London work, and our own grew upon +us.</p> +<p>For the first year of her widowhood, my mother shrank from +society, and afterwards had only spasmodic fits of doubt whether +it were not her duty to make my sister go out more. So that +now and then Emily did go to a party, or to make a visit of some +days or weeks from home, and then we knew how valuable she +was. It would be hard to say whether my mother were +relieved or disappointed when Emily refused James Eastwood, in +spite of many persuasions, not only from himself, but his +family. I believe mamma thought it selfish to be glad, and +that it was a failure in duty not to have performed that weighty +matter of marrying her daughter; feeling in some way inferior to +ladies who had disposed of a whole flock under five and twenty, +whereas she had not been able to get rid of a single one!</p> +<p>Of Clarence’s doings in China I need not speak; you have +read of them in the book for yourselves, and you know how his +work prospered, so that the results more than fulfilled his +expectations, and raised the firm to the pitch of greatness and +reputation which it has ever since preserved, and this without +soiling his hands with the miserable opium traffic. Some of +the subordinates were so set on the gains to be thus obtained, +that he and Lawrence Frith had a severe struggle with them to +prevent it, and were forced conjointly to use all their authority +as principals to make it impossible. Those two were the +greatest of friends. Their chief relaxation was one +another’s company, and their earnest aim was to support the +Christian mission, and to keep up the tone of their English +dependants, a terribly difficult matter, and one that made the +time of their return somewhat doubtful, even when Walter +Castleford was gone out to relieve them. Their health had +kept up so well that we had ceased to be anxious on that point, +and it was through the Castlefords that we received the first +hint that Clarence might not be as well as his absence of +complaint had led us to believe.</p> +<p>In fact he had never been well since a terrible tempest, when +he had worked hard and exposed himself to save life. I +never could hear the particulars, for Lawrence was away, and +Clarence could not write about it himself, having been prostrated +by one of those chills so perilous in hot countries; but from all +I have heard, no resident in Hong-Kong would have believed that +Mr. Winslow’s courage could ever have been called in +question. He ought to have come home immediately after that +attack of fever; for the five years were over, and his work +nearly done; but there was need to consolidate his achievements, +and a strong man is only too apt to trifle with his health. +We might have guessed something by the languor and brevity of his +letters, but we thought the absence of detail owing to his +expectation of soon seeing us; and had gone on for months +expecting the announcement of a speedy return, when an unexpected +shock fell on us. Our dear mother was still an active +woman, with few signs of age about her, when, in her +sixty-seventh year, she was almost suddenly taken from us by an +attack of gout in the stomach.</p> +<p>I feel as if I had not done her justice, and as if she might +seem stern, unsympathising, and lacking in tenderness. Yet +nothing could be further from the truth. She was an +old-fashioned mother, who held it her duty to keep up her +authority, and counted over-familiarity and indulgence as +sins. To her ‘the holy spirit of discipline was the +beginning of wisdom,’ and to make her children godly, +truthful, and honourable was a much greater object than to win +their love. And their love she had, and kept to a far +higher degree than seems to be the case with those who court +affection by caresses and indulgence. We knew that her +approval was of a generous kind, we prized enthusiastically her +rare betrayals of her motherly tenderness, and we depended on her +in a manner we only realised in the desolation, dreariness, and +helplessness that fell upon us, when we knew that she was +gone. She had not, nor had any of us, understood that she +was dying, and she had uttered only a few words that could imply +any such thought. On hearing that there was a letter from +Clarence, she said, ‘Poor Clarence! I should like to +have seen him. He is a good boy after all. I’ve +been hard on him, but it will all be right now. God +Almighty bless him!’</p> +<p>That was the only formal blessing she left among us. +Indeed, the last time I saw her was with an ordinary good-night +at the foot of the stairs. Emily said she was glad that I +had not to carry with me the remembrance of those paroxysms of +suffering. My dear Emily had alone the whole force of that +trial—or shall I call it privilege? Martyn did not +reach home till some hours after all was over, poor boy.</p> +<p>And in the midst of our desolateness, just as we had let the +daylight in again upon our diminished numbers round the table, +came a letter from Hong-Kong, addressed to me in Lawrence +Frith’s writing, and the first thing I saw was a scrawl, as +follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘<span class="smcap">Dearest +Ted</span>—All is in your hands. You can do +<i>it</i>. God bless you all. W. C. W.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>When I came to myself, and could see and hear, Martyn was +impressing on me that where there is life there is hope, though +indeed, according to poor Lawrence’s letter, there was +little of either. He feared our hearing indirectly, and +therefore wrote to prepare us.</p> +<p>He had been summoned to Hong-Kong to find Clarence lying +desperately ill, for the most part semi-delirious, holding +converse with invisible forms, or entreating some one to let him +alone—he had done his best. In one of his more lucid +intervals he had made Lawrence find that note in a case that lay +near him, and promise to send it; and he had tried to send some +messages, but they had become confused, and he was too weak to +speak further.</p> +<p>The next mail was sure to bring the last tidings of one who +had given his life for right and justice. It was only a +reprieve that what it actually brought was the intelligence that +he was still alive, and more sensible, and had been able to take +much pleasure in seeing the friend of his youth, Captain Coles, +who was there with his ship, the <i>Douro</i>. Then there +had been a relapse. Captain Coles had brought his doctor to +see him, and it had been pronounced that the best chance of +saving him was a sea-voyage. The <i>Douro</i> had just +received orders to return to England, and Coles had offered to +take home both the friends as guests, though there was evidently +little hope that our brother would reach any earthly home. +As we knew afterwards, he had smiled and said it was like +rehabilitation to have the chance of dying on board one of H.M. +ships. And he was held in such respect, and was so entirely +one of the leading men of the little growing colony, and had been +known as such a friend to the naval men, and had so gallantly +aided a Queen’s ship in that hurricane, that his passage +home in this manner only seemed a natural tribute of +respect. A few last words from Lawrence told us that he was +safely on board, all unconscious of the silent, almost weeping, +procession that had escorted his litter to the +<i>Douro’s</i> boat, only too much as if it were his +bier. In fact, Captain Coles actually promised him that if +he died at sea he should be buried with the old flag.</p> +<p>We could not hope to hear more for at least six weeks, since +our letter had come by overland mail, and the <i>Douro</i> would +take her time. It was a comfort in this waiting time that +Martyn could be with us. His rector had been promoted; +there was a general change of curates; and as Martyn had been +working up to the utmost limits of his strength, we had no +scruple in inducing him to remain with us, and undertake nothing +fresh till this crisis was past. Though as to rest, not one +Sunday passed without requests for his assistance from one or +more of the neighbouring clergy.</p> +<h2><a name="page378"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +378</span>CHAPTER XLV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">ACHIEVED.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘And hopes and fears that kindle hope,<br /> +An undistinguishable throng,<br /> +And gentle wishes long subdued—<br /> +Subdued and cherished long.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right">S. T. <span +class="smcap">Coleridge</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> first that we did hear of our +brother was a letter with a Falmouth postmark, which we scarcely +dared to open. There was not much in it, but that was +enough. ‘D. G.—I shall see you all again. +We put in at Portsmouth.’</p> +<p>There was no staying at home after that. We three lost +no time in starting, for railways had become available, and by +the time we had driven from the station at Portsmouth the +<i>Douro</i> had been signalled.</p> +<p>Martyn took a boat and went on board alone, for besides that +Emily did not like to leave me, her dress would have been a +revelation that <i>all</i> were no longer there to greet the +arrival. The precaution was, however, unnecessary. +There stood Clarence on deck, and after the first greeting, he +laid his hand on Martyn’s arm and said, ‘My mother is +gone?’ and on the wondering assent, ‘I was quite sure +of it.’</p> +<p>So they came ashore, Clarence lying in the man-of-war’s +boat, in which his friend insisted on sending him, able now to +give a smiling response and salute to the three cheers with which +the crew took leave of him. He was carried up to our hotel +on a stretcher by half-a-dozen blue jackets. Indeed he was +grievously changed, looking so worn and weak, so hollow-eyed and +yellow, and so fearfully wasted, that the very memory is painful; +and able to do nothing but lie on the sofa holding Emily’s +hand, gazing at us with a face full of ineffable peace and +gladness. There was a misgiving upon me that he had only +come back to finish his work and bid us farewell.</p> +<p>Kindly and considerately they had sent him on before with +Martyn. In a quarter of an hour’s time his good +doctor came in with Lawrence Frith, a considerable contrast to +our poor Clarence, for the slim gypsy lad had developed into a +strikingly handsome man, still slender and lithe, but with a fine +bearing, and his bronzed complexion suiting well with his dark +shining hair and beautiful eyes. They had brought some of +the luggage, and the doctor insisted that his patient should go +to bed directly, and rest completely before trying to talk.</p> +<p>Then we heard that his condition, though still anxious, was +far from being hopeless, and that after the tropics had been +passed, he had been gradually improving. The kind doctor +had got leave to go up to London with us, and talk over the case +with L---, and he hoped Clarence might be able to bear the +journey by the next afternoon.</p> +<p>Presently after came Captain Coles, whom we had not seen since +the short visit when we had idolised the big overgrown +midshipman, whom Clarence exhibited to our respectful and distant +admiration nearly twenty years ago. My mother used to call +him a gentlemanly lad, and that was just what he was still, with +a singularly soft gentle manner, gallant officer and post-captain +as he was. He cheered me much, for he made no doubt of +Clarence’s ultimate recovery, and he added that he had +found the dear fellow so valued and valuable, so useful in all +good works, and so much respected by all the English residents, +‘that really,’ said the captain, ‘I did not +know whether to deplore that the service should have lost such a +man, or whether to think it had been a good thing for him, though +not for us, that—that he got into such a scrape.’</p> +<p>I said something of our thanks.</p> +<p>‘To tell you the truth,’ said Coles, ‘I had +my doubts whether it had not been a cruel act, for he had a +terrible turn after we got him on board, and all the sounds of a +Queen’s ship revived the past associations, and always of a +painful kind in his delirium, till at last, just as I gave him +up, the whole character of his fancies seemed to change, and from +that time he has been gaining every day.’</p> +<p>We kept the captain to dinner, and gathered a good deal more +understanding of the important position to which Clarence had +risen by force of character and rectitude of purpose in that +strange little Anglo-Chinese colony; and afterwards, I was +allowed to make a long visit to Clarence, who, having eaten and +slept, was quite ready to talk.</p> +<p>It seemed that the great distress of his illness had been the +recurrence—nay, aggravation—of the strange +susceptibility of brain and nerve that had belonged to his +earlier days, and with it either imagination or perception of the +spirit-world. Much that had seemed delirium had belonged to +that double consciousness, and he perfectly recollected it. +As Coles had said, the sights and sounds of the ship had been a +renewal of the saddest time in his life; he could not at night +divest himself of the impression that he was under arrest, and +the sins of his life gathered themselves in fearful and +oppressive array, as if to stifle him, and the phantom of poor +Margaret with her lamp—which had haunted him from the +beginning of his illness—seemed to taunt him with having +been too fainthearted and tardy to be worthy to espouse her +cause. The faith to which he tried to cling <i>would</i> +seem to fail him in those awful hours, when he could only cry out +mechanical prayers for mercy. Then there had come a night +when he had heard my mother say, ‘All right now; God +Almighty bless him.’ And therewith the clouds cleared +from his mind. The power of <i>feeling</i>, as well as +believing in, the blotting out of sin, returned, the sense of +pardon and peace calmed him, and from that time he was fully +himself again, ‘though,’ he said, ‘I knew I +should not see my mother here.’</p> +<p>If she could only have seen him come home under the Union +Jack, cheered by sailors, and carried ashore by them, it would +have been to her like restoration. Perhaps Clarence in his +dreamy weakness had so felt it, for certainly no other mode of +return to Portsmouth, the very place of his degradation, could so +have soothed him and effaced those memories. The English +sounds were a perfect charm to him, as well as to Lawrence, the +commonest street cry, the very slices of bread and butter, +anything that was not Chinese, was as water to the thirsty! +And wasted as was his face, the quiet rest and joy were +ineffable.</p> +<p>Still Portsmouth was not the best place for him, and we were +glad that he was well enough to go up to London in the afternoon; +intensely delighting in the May beauty of the green meadows, and +white blossoming hedgerows, and the Church towers, especially the +gray massiveness of Winchester Cathedral. ‘Christian +tokens,’ he said, instead of the gay, gilded pagodas and +quaint crumpled roofs he had left. The soft haze seemed to +be such a rest after the glare of perpetual clearness.</p> +<p>We were all born Londoners, and looked at the blue fog, and +the broad, misty river, and the brooding smoke, with the +affection of natives, to the amazement of Lawrence, who had never +been in town without being browbeaten and miserable. That +he hardly was now, as he sat beside Emily all the way up, though +they did not say much to one another.</p> +<p>He told us it was quite a new sensation to walk into the +office without timidity, and to have no fears of a biting, +crushing speech about his parents or himself; but to have the +clerks getting up deferentially as soon as he was known for Mr. +Frith. He had hardly ever been allowed by his old uncle to +come across Mr. Castleford, who was of course cordial and +delighted to receive him, and, without loss of time, set forth to +see Clarence.</p> +<p>The consultation with the physician had taken place, and it +was not concealed from us that Clarence’s health was +completely shattered, and his state still very precarious, +needing the utmost care to give him any chance of recovering the +effects of the last two years, when he had persevered, in spite +of warning, in his eagerness to complete his undertaking, and +then to secure what he had effected. The upshot of the +advice given him was to spend the summer by the seaside, and if +he had by that time gathered strength, and surmounted the +symptoms of disease, to go abroad, as he was not likely to be +able as yet to bear English cold. Business and cares were +to be avoided, and if he had anything necessary to be done, it +had better be got over at once, so as to be off his mind. +Martyn and Frith gathered that the case was thought doubtful, and +entirely dependent on constitution and rallying power. +Clarence himself seemed almost passive, caring only for our +presence and the accomplishment of his task.</p> +<p>We had a blessed thanksgiving for mercies received in the +Margaret Street Chapel, as we called what is now All Saints; but +he and I were unfit for crowds, and on Sunday morning availed +ourselves of a friend’s seat in our old church, which felt +so natural and homelike to us elders that Martyn was scandalised +at our taste. But it was the church of our Confirmation and +first Communion, and Clarence rejoiced that it was that of his +first home-coming Eucharist. What a contrast was he now to +the shrinking boy, scarcely tolerated under his stigmatised +name. Surely the Angel had led him all his life +through!</p> +<p>How happy we two were in the afternoon, while the others +conducted Lawrence to some more noteworthy church.</p> +<p>‘Now,’ said Clarence, ‘let us go down to +Beachharbour. It must be done at once. I have been +trying to write, and I can’t do it,’ and his face +lighted with a quiet smile which I understood.</p> +<p>So we wrote to the principal hotel to secure rooms, and set +forth on Tuesday, leaving Frith to finish with Mr. Castleford +what could not be settled in the one business interview that had +been held with Clarence on the Monday.</p> +<h2><a name="page385"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +385</span>CHAPTER XLVI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">RESTITUTION.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Ah! well for us all some sweet hope lies<br +/> +Deeply buried from human eyes.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Whittier</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Things</span> always happen in unexpected +ways. During the little hesitation and difficulty that +always attend my transits at a station, a voice was heard to say, +‘Oh! Papa, isn’t that Edward +Winslow?’ Martyn gave a violent start, and Mr. +Fordyce was exclaiming, ‘Clarence, my dear fellow, it +isn’t you! I beg your pardon; you have strength +enough left nearly to wring one’s hand off!’</p> +<p>‘I—I wanted very much to see you, sir,’ said +Clarence. ‘Could you be so good as to appoint a +time?’</p> +<p>‘See you! We must always be seeing you of +course. Let me think. I’ve got three weddings +and a funeral to-morrow, and Simpson coming about the +meeting. Come to luncheon—all of you. Mrs. +Fordyce will be delighted, and so will somebody else.’</p> +<p>There was no doubt about the somebody else, for Anne’s +feet were as nearly dancing round Emily as public propriety +allowed, and the radiance of her face was something to rejoice +in. Say what people will, Englishwomen in a quiet cheerful +life are apt to gain rather than lose in looks up to the borders +of middle age. Our Emily at two-and-thirty was fair and +pleasant to look on; while as for Anne Fordyce at twenty-three, +words will hardly tell how lovely were her delicate features, +brown eyes, and carnation cheeks, illuminated by that sunshine +brightness of her father’s, which made one feel better all +day for having been beamed upon by either of them. Clarence +certainly did, when the good man turned back to say, ‘Which +hotel? Eh? That’s too far off. You must +come nearer. I would see you in, but I’ve got a woman +to see before church time, and I’m short of a curate, so I +must be sharp to the hour.’</p> +<p>‘Can I be of any use?’ eagerly asked Martyn. +‘I’ll follow you as soon as I have got these fellows +to their quarters.’</p> +<p>We had Amos with us, and were soon able to release Martyn, +after a few compliments on my not being as usual <i>the</i> +invalid; and by and by he came back to take Emily to inspect a +lodging, recommended by our friends, close to the beach, and not +a stone’s throw from the Rectory built by Mr. +Fordyce. As we two useless beings sat opposite to each +other, looking over the roofs of houses at the blue expanse and +feeling the salt breeze, it was no fancy that Clarence’s +cheek looked less wan, and his eyes clearer, as a smile of +content played on his lips. ‘Years sit well on +her,’ he said gaily; and I thought of rewards in store for +him.</p> +<p>Then he took this opportunity of consulting me on the chances +for Frith, telling of the original offer, and the quiet constancy +of his friend, and asking whether I thought Emily would +relent. And I answered that I suspected that she +would,—‘But you must get well first.’</p> +<p>‘I begin to think that more possible,’ he +answered, and my heart bounded as he added, ‘she would be +satisfied since you would always have a home with +<i>us</i>.’</p> +<p>Oh, how much was implied in that monosyllable. He knew +it, for a little faint colour came up, as he, shyly, laughed and +hesitated, ‘That is—if—’</p> +<p>‘If’ included Mrs. Fordyce’s not being +ungracious. Nor was she. Emily had found her as kind +as in the old days at Hillside, and perfectly ready to bring us +into close vicinity. It was not caprice that had made this +change, but all possible doubt and risk of character were over, +the old wound was in some measure healed, and the friendship had +been brought foremost by our recent sorrow and our present +anxiety. Anne was in ecstasies over Emily. ‘It +is so odd,’ she said, ‘to have grown as old as you, +whom I used to think so very grown up,’ and she had all her +pet plans to display in the future. Moreover, Martyn had +been permitted to relieve the Rector from the funeral—a +privilege which seemed to gratify him as much as if it had been +the liveliest of services.</p> +<p>We were to lunch at the Rectory, and the move of our goods was +to be effected while we were there. We found Mrs. Fordyce +looking much older, but far less of an invalid than in old times, +and there was something more genial and less exclusive in her +ways, owing perhaps to the difference of her life among the many +classes with whom she was called on to associate.</p> +<p>Somersetshire, Beachharbour, and China occupied our tongues by +turns, and we had to begin luncheon without the Rector, who had +been hindered by numerous calls; in fact, as Anne warned us, it +was a wonder if he got the length of the esplanade without being +stopped half-a-dozen times.</p> +<p>His welcome was like himself, but he needed a reminder of +Clarence’s request for an interview. Then we repaired +to the study, for Clarence begged that his brothers might be +present, and then the beginning was made. ‘Do you +remember my showing you a will that I found in the ruins at +Chantry House?’</p> +<p>‘A horrid old scrap that you chose to call one. +Yes; I told you to burn it.’</p> +<p>‘Sir, we have proved that a great injustice was +perpetrated by our ancestor, Philip Winslow, and that the poor +lady who made that will was cruelly treated, if not +murdered. This is no fancy; I have known it for years past, +but it is only now that restitution has become +possible.’</p> +<p>‘Restitution? What are you talking about? I +never wanted the place nor coveted it.’</p> +<p>‘No, sir, but the act was our forefather’s. +You cannot bid us sit down under the consciousness of profiting +by a crime. I could not do so before, but I now implore you +to let me restore you either Chantry House and the three farms, +or their purchase money, according to the valuation made at my +father’s death. I have it in hand.’</p> +<p>Frank Fordyce walked about the room quite overcome. +‘You foolish fellow!’ he said, ‘Was it for this +that you have been toiling and throwing away your health in that +pestiferous place? Edward, did you know this?’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ I answered. ‘Clarence has +intended this ever since he found the will.’</p> +<p>‘As if that was a will! You consented.’</p> +<p>‘We all thought it right.’</p> +<p>He made a gesture of dismay at such folly.</p> +<p>‘I do not think you understand how it was, Mr. +Fordyce,’ said Clarence, who by this time was quivering and +trembling as in his boyish days.</p> +<p>‘No, nor ever wish to do so. Such matters ought to +be forgotten, and you don’t look fit to say another +word.’</p> +<p>‘Edward will tell you,’ said Clarence, leaning +back.</p> +<p>I had the whole written out, and was about to begin, when the +person, with whom there was an appointment, was reported, and we +knew that the rest of the day was mapped out.</p> +<p>‘Look here,’ said Mr. Fordyce, ‘leave that +with me; I can’t give any answer off-hand, except that Don +Quixote is come alive again, only too like himself.’</p> +<p>Which was true, for Clarence took long to rally from the +effort, and had to be kept quiet for some time in the study where +we were left. He examined me on the contents of my paper, +and was vexed to hear that I had mentioned the ghost, which he +said would discredit the whole. Never was the dear fellow +so much inclined to be fretful, and when Martyn restlessly +observed that if we did not want him, he might as well go back to +the drawing-room, the reply was quite sharp—‘Oh yes, +by all means.’</p> +<p>No wonder there was pain in the tone; for the next words, +after some interval, were, when two happy voices came ringing in +from the garden behind, ‘You see, Edward.’</p> +<p>Somehow I had never thought of Martyn. He had simply +seemed to me a boy, and I had decided that Anne would be the +crown of Clarence’s labours. I answered +‘Nonsense; they are both children together!’</p> +<p>‘The nonsense was elsewhere,’ he said. +‘They always were devoted to each other. I saw how it +was the moment he came into the room.’</p> +<p>‘Don’t give up,’ I said; ‘it is only +the old habit. When she knows all, she must +prefer—’</p> +<p>‘Hush!’ he said. ‘An old scarecrow and +that beautiful young creature!’ and he laughed.</p> +<p>‘You won’t be an old scarecrow long.’</p> +<p>‘No,’ he said in an ominous way, and cut short the +discussion by going back to Mrs. Fordyce.</p> +<p>He was worn out, had a bad night, and did not get up to +breakfast; I was waiting for it in the sitting-room, when Mr. +Fordyce came in after matins with Emily and Martyn.</p> +<p>‘I feel just like David when they brought him the water +of Bethlehem,’ he said. ‘You know I think this +all nonsense, especially this—this ghost business; and yet, +such—such doings as your brother’s can’t go for +nothing.’</p> +<p>His face worked, and the tears were in his eyes; then, as he +partook of our breakfast, he cross-examined us on my statement, +and even tried to persuade us that the phantom in the ruin was +Emily; and on her observing that she could not have seen herself, +he talked of the Brocken Spectre and fog mirages; but we declared +the night was clear, and I told him that all the rational +theories I had ever heard were far more improbable than the +appearance herself, at which he laughed. Then he +scrupulously demanded whether this—this (he failed to find +a name for it) would be an impoverishment of our family, and I +showed how Clarence had provided that we should be in as easy +circumstances as before. In the midst came in Clarence +himself, having hastened to dress, on hearing that Mr. Fordyce +was in the house, and looking none the better for the +exertion.</p> +<p>‘Look here, my dear boy,’ said Frank, taking his +hot trembling hand, ‘you have put me in a great fix. +You have done the noblest deed at a terrible cost, and whatever I +may think, it ought not to be thrown away, nor you be hindered +from freeing your soul from this sense of family guilt. But +here, my forefathers had as little right to the Chantry as yours, +and ever since I began to think about such things, I have been +thankful it was none of mine. Let us join in giving it or +its value to some good work for God—pour it out to the +Lord, as we may say. Bless me! what have I done +now.’</p> +<p>For Clarence, muttering ‘thank you,’ sank out of +his grasp on a chair, and as nearly as possible fainted; but he +was soon smiling and saying it was all relief, and he felt as if +a load he had been bearing had been suddenly removed.</p> +<p>Frank Fordyce durst stay no longer, but laid his hand on +Clarence’s head and blessed him.</p> +<h2><a name="page392"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +392</span>CHAPTER XLVII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE FORDYCE STORY.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘For soon as once the genial plain<br /> +Has drunk the life-blood of the slain,<br /> +Indelible the spots remain,<br /> +And aye for vengeance call.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Euripides</span>—(<i>Anstice</i>).</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Still</span> all was not over, for by the +next day our brother was as ill, or worse, than ever. The +doctor who came from London allowed that he had expected +something of the kind, but thought we must have let him exert +himself perilously. Poor innocent Martyn and Anne, they +little suspected that their bright eyes and happy voices had +something to do with the struggle and disappointment, which +probably was one cause of the collapse. As to poor Frank +Fordyce, I never saw him so distressed; he felt as if it were all +his own fault, or that of his ancestors, and, whenever he was not +required by his duties, was lingering about for news. I had +little hope, though Clarence seemed to me the very light of my +eyes; it was to me as though, his task being accomplished, and +the earthly reward denied, he must be on his way to the higher +one.</p> +<p>His complete quiescence confirmed me in the assurance that he +thought so himself. He was too ill for speech, but +Lawrence, who could not stay away, was struck with the difference +from former times. Not only were there no delusions, but +there was no anxiety or uneasiness, as there had always been in +the former attacks, when he was evidently eager to live, and +still more solicitous to be told if he were in a hopeless +state. Now he had plainly resigned himself—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Content to live, but not afraid to +die;’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>and perhaps, dear fellow, it was chiefly for my sake that he +was willing to live. At least, I know that when the worst +was over, he announced it by putting those wasted fingers into +mine, and saying—</p> +<p>‘Well, dear old fellow, I believe we shall jog on +together, after all.’</p> +<p>That attack, though the most severe of all, brought, either +owing to skilful treatment or to his own calm, the removal of the +mischief, and the beginning of real recovery. Previously he +had given himself no time, but had hurried on to exertions which +retarded his cure, so as very nearly to be fatal; but he was now +perfectly submissive to whatever physicians or nurses desired, +and did not seem to find his slow convalescence in the least +tedious, since he was amongst us all again.</p> +<p>It was nearly a month before he was disposed to recur to the +subject of his old solicitude again, and then he asked what Mr. +Fordyce had said or done. Just nothing at all; but on the +next visit paid to the sick-room, Parson Frank yielded to his +earnest request to send for any documents that might throw light +on the subject, and after a few days he brought us a packet of +letters from his deed-box. They were written from Hillside +Rectory to the son in the army in Flanders, chiefly by his +mother, and were full of hot, angry invective against our family, +and pity for poor, foolish ‘Madam,’ or ‘Cousin +Winslow,’ as she was generally termed, for having put +herself in their power.</p> +<p>The one most to the purpose was an account of the examination +of Molly Cox, the waiting-woman, who had been in attendance on +the unfortunate Margaret, and whose story tallied fairly with +Aunt Peggy’s tradition. She declared that she was +sure that her mistress had met with foul play. She had left +her as usual at ten o’clock on the fatal 27th of December +1707, in the inner one of the old chambers; and in the night had +heard the tipsy return home of the gentlemen, followed by +shrieks. In the morning she (the maid) who usually was the +first to go to her room, was met by Mistress Betty Winslow, and +told that Madam was ill, and insensible. The old nurse of +the Winslows was called in; and Molly was never left alone in the +sick-room, scarcely permitted to approach the bed, and never to +touch her lady. Once, when emptying out a cup at the +garden-door, she saw a mark of blood on the steps, but Mr. Philip +came up and swore at her for a prying fool. Doctor Tomkins +was sent for, but he barely walked through the room, and +‘all know that he is a mere creature of Philip +Winslow,’ wrote the Mrs. Fordyce of that date to her +son. And presently after, ‘Justice Eastwood declared +there is no case for a Grand Jury; but he is a known Friend and +sworn Comrade of the Winslows, and bound to suppress all evidence +against them. Nay, James Dearlove swears he saw Edward +Winslow slip a golden Guinea into his Clerk’s Hand. +But as sure as there is a Heaven above us, Francis, poor Cousin +Winslow was trying to escape to us of her own Kindred, and met +with cruel Usage. Her Blood is on their Heads.’</p> +<p>‘There!’ said Frank Fordyce. ‘This +Francis challenged Philip Winslow’s eldest son, a mere boy, +three days after he joined the army before Lille, and shot him +like a dog. I turned over the letter about it in searching +for these. I can’t boast of my ancestors more than +you can. But may God accept this work of yours, and take +away the guilt of blood from both of us.’</p> +<p>‘And have you thought what is best to be done?’ +asked Clarence, raising himself on his cushions.</p> +<p>‘Have you?’ asked the Vicar.</p> +<p>‘Oh yes; I have had my dreams.’</p> +<p>They put their castles together, and they turned out to be for +an orphanage, or rather asylum, not too much hampered with strict +rules, combined with a convalescent home. The battle of +sisterhoods was not yet fought out, and we were not quite +prepared for them; but Frank Fordyce had, as he said, ‘the +two best women in the world in his eye’ to make a +beginning.</p> +<p>There was full time to think and discuss the scheme, for our +patient was in no condition to move for many weeks, lying day +after day on a couch just within the window of our sitting-room, +which was as nearly as possible in the sea, so that he constantly +had the freshness of its breezes, the music of its ripple, and +the sight of its waves, and seemed to find endless pleasure in +watching the red sails, the puffs of steam, and the frolics of +the children, simple or gentle, on the beach.</p> +<p>Something else was sometimes to be watched. Martyn, all +this time, was doing the work of two curates, and was to be seen +walking home with Anne from church or school, carrying her +baskets and bags, and, as we were given to understand, discussing +by turns ecclesiastical questions, visionary sisterhoods, and +naughty children. At first I wished it were possible to +remove Clarence from the perpetual spectacle, but we had one last +talk over the matter, and this was quite satisfactory.</p> +<p>‘It does me no harm,’ he said; ‘I like to +see it. Yes, it is quite true that I do. What was +personal and selfish in my fancies seems to have been worn out in +the great lull of my senses under the shadow of death; and now I +can revert with real joy and thankfulness to the old delight of +looking on our dear Ellen as our sister, and watch those two +children as we used when they talked of dolls’ fenders +instead of the surplice war. I have got you, Edward; and +you know there is a love “passing the love of +women.”’</p> +<p>A lively young couple passed by the window just then, and with +untamed voices observed—</p> +<p>‘There are those two poor miserable objects! It is +enough to make one melancholy only to look at them.’</p> +<p>Whereat we simultaneously burst out laughing; perhaps because +a choking, very far from misery, was in our throats.</p> +<p>At any rate, Clarence was prepared to be the cordial, fatherly +brother, when Martyn came headlong in upon us with the tidings +that utterly indescribable, unimaginable joy had befallen +him. A revelation seemed simultaneously to have broken upon +him and Anne while they were copying out the Sunday School +Registers, that what they had felt for each other all their lives +was love—‘real, true love,’ as Anne said to +Emily, ‘that never could have cared for anybody +else.’</p> +<p>Mrs. Fordyce’s sharp eyes had seen what was coming, and +accepted the inevitable, quite as soon as Clarence had. She +came and talked it over with us, saying she was perfectly +satisfied and happy. Martyn was all that could be wished, +and she was sincerely glad of the connection with her old +friends. So, in fact, was dear old Frank, but he had been +running about with his head full, and his eyes closed, so that it +was quite a shock to him to find that his little Anne, his boon +companion and playfellow, was actually grown up, and presuming to +love and be loved; and he could hardly believe that she was +really seven years older than her sister had been when the like +had begun with her. But if Anne must be at those tricks, he +said, shaking his head at her, he had rather it was with Martyn +than anybody else.</p> +<p>There was no difficulty as to money matters. In truth, +Martyn was not so good a match as an heiress, such as was Anne +Fordyce, might have aspired to, and her Lester kin were sure to +be shocked; but even if Clarence married, the Earlscombe living +went for something (though, by the bye, he has never held it), +and the Fordyces only cared that there should be easy +circumstances. The living of Hillside would be resigned in +favour of Martyn in the spring, and meantime he would gain more +experience at Beachharbour, and this would break the separation +to the Fordyces.</p> +<p>After all, however, theirs was not to be our first +wedding. I have said little of Emily. The fact was, +that after that week of Clarence’s danger, we said she +lived in a kind of dream. She fulfilled all that was wanted +of her, nursing Clarence, waiting on me, ordering dinner, making +the tea, and so forth; but it was quite evident that life began +for her on the Saturdays, when Lawrence came down, and ended on +the Mondays, when he went away. If, in the meantime, she +sat down to work, she went off into a trance; if she was sent out +for fresh air, she walked quarter-deck on the esplanade, neither +seeing nor hearing anything, we averred, but some imaginary +Lawrence Frith.</p> +<p>If she had any drawback, good girl, it was the idea of +deserting me; but then, as I could honestly tell her, nobody need +fear for my happiness, since Clarence was given back to me. +And she believed, and was ready to go to China with her +Lawrence.</p> +<h2><a name="page399"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +399</span>CHAPTER XLVIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE LAST DISCOVERY.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Grief will be joy if on its edge<br /> +Fall soft that holiest ray,<br /> +Joy will be grief, if no faint pledge<br /> +Be there of heavenly day.’</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Keble</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">We</span> did not move from Beachharbour +till September, and by that time it had been decided that Chantry +House itself should be given up to the new scheme. It was +too large for us, and Clarence had never lived there enough to +have any strong home feeling for it; but he rather connected it +with disquiet and distress, and had a longing to make actual +restitution thereof, instead of only giving an equivalent, as he +did in the case of the farms. Our feelings about the +desecrated chapel were also considerably changed from the days +when we regarded it merely as a picturesque ruin, and it was to +be at once restored both for the benefit of the orphanage, and +for that of the neighbouring households. For ourselves, a +cottage was to be built, suited to our idiosyncrasies; but that +could wait till after the yacht voyage, which we were to make +together for the winter.</p> +<p>Thus it came to pass that the last time we inhabited Chantry +House was when we gave Emily to Lawrence Frith. We would +fain have made it a double wedding, but the Fordyces wished to +wait for Easter, when Martyn would have been inducted to +Hillside. They came, however, that Mrs. Fordyce might act +lady of the house, and Anne be bridesmaid, as well as lay the +first stone of St. Cecily’s restored chapel.</p> +<p>It was on the day on which they were expected, when the +workmen were digging foundations, and clearing away rubbish, that +the foreman begged Mr. Winslow to come out to see something they +had found. Clarence came back, very grave and +awe-struck. It was an old oak chest, and within lay a +skeleton, together with a few fragments of female clothing, a +wedding ring, and some coins of the later Stewarts, in a rotten +leathern purse. This was ghastly confirmation, though there +was nothing else to connect the bones with poor Margaret. +We had some curiosity as to the coffin in the niche in the family +vault which bore her name, but both Clarence and Mr. Fordyce +shrank from investigations which could not be carried out without +publicity, and might perhaps have disturbed other remains.</p> +<p>So on the ensuing night there was a strange, quiet funeral +service at Earlscombe Church. Mr. Henderson officiated, and +Chapman acted as clerk. These, with Amos Bell, alone knew +the tradition, or understood what the discovery meant to the two +Fordyces and three Winslows who stood at the opening of the +vault, and prayed that whatever guilt there might be should be +put away from the families so soon to be made one. The +coins were placed with those of Victoria, which the next day Anne +laid beneath the foundation-stone of St. Cecily’s. I +need not say that no one has ever again heard the wailings, nor +seen the lady with the lamp.</p> +<p>What more is there to tell? It was of this first half of +our lives that I intended to write, and though many years have +since passed, they have not had the same character of romance and +would not interest you. Our honeymoon, as Mr. Fordyce +called the expedition we two brothers made in the Mediterranean, +was a perfect success; and Clarence regained health, and better +spirits than had ever been his; while contriving to show me all +that I was capable of being carried to see. It was complete +enjoyment, and he came home, not as strong as in old times, but +with fair comfort and capability for the work of life, so as to +be able to take Mr. Castleford’s place, when our dear old +friend retired from active direction of the firm.</p> +<p>You all know how the two old bachelors have kept house +together in London and at Earlscombe cottage, and you are all +proud of the honoured name Clarence Winslow has made for himself, +foremost in works for the glory of God and the good of +men—as one of those merchant princes of England whose +merchandise has indeed been Holiness unto the Lord.</p> +<p>Thus you must all have felt a shock on finding that he always +looked on that name as blotted, and that one of the last sayings +I heard from him was, ‘O remember not the sins and offences +of my youth, but according to Thy mercy, think upon me, O Lord, +for Thy goodness.’</p> +<p>Then he almost smiled, and said, ‘Yes, He has so looked +on me, and I am thankful.’</p> +<p>Thankful, and so am I, for those thirty-four peaceful years we +spent together, or rather for the seventy years of perfect +brotherhood that we have been granted, and though he has left me +behind him, I am content to wait. It cannot be for +long. My brothers and sisters, their children, and my +faithful Amos Bell, are very good to me; and in writing up to +that <i>mezzo termine</i> of our lives, I have been living it +over again with my brother of brothers, through the troubles that +have become like joys.</p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Remarks</span>.</h3> +<p>Uncle Edward has not said half enough about his dear old +self. I want to know if he never was unhappy when he was +young about being <i>like that</i>, though mother says his face +was always nearly as beautiful as it is now. And it is not +only goodness. It <i>is</i> beautiful with his sweet smile +and snowy white hair.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Ellen +Winslow</span>.</p> +<p>And I wonder, though perhaps he could not have told, what Aunt +Anne would have done if Uncle Clarence had not been so forbearing +before he went to China.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Clare +Frith</span>.</p> +<p>The others are highly impertinent questions, but we ought to +know what became of Lady Peacock.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Ed</span>. G. +W.</p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Reply</span>.</h3> +<p>Poor woman, she drifted back to London after about ten years, +with an incurable disease. Clarence put her into lodgings +near us, and did his best for her as long as she lived. He +had a hard task, but she ended by saying he was her only +friend.</p> +<p>To question No. 2 I have nothing to say; but as to No. 1, with +its extravagant compliment, Nature, or rather God, blessed me +with even spirits, a methodical nature that prefers monotony, and +very little morbid shyness; nor have I ever been devoid of tender +care and love. So that I can only remember three severe +fits of depression. One, when I had just begun to be taken +out in the Square Gardens, and Selina Clarkson was heard to say I +was a hideous little monster. It was a revelation, and must +have given frightful pain, for I remember it acutely after +sixty-five years.</p> +<p>The second fit was just after Clarence was gone to sea, and +some very painful experiments had been tried in vain for making +me like other people. For the first time I faced the fact +that I was set aside from all possible careers, and should be, as +I remember saying, ‘no better than a girl.’ I +must have been a great trial to all my friends. My father +tried to reason on resignation, and tell me happiness could be +<i>in</i> myself, till he broke down. My mother attempted +bracing by reproof. Miss Newton endeavoured to make me see +that this was my cross. Every word was true, and came round +again, but they only made me for the time more rebellious and +wretched. That attack was ended, of all things in the +world, by heraldry. My attention somehow was drawn that +way, and the study filled up time and thought till my misfortunes +passed into custom, and haunted me no more.</p> +<p>My last was a more serious access, after coming into the +country, when improved health and vigour inspired cravings that +made me fully sensible of my blighted existence. I had gone +the length of my tether and overdone myself; I missed London life +and Clarence; and the more I blamed myself, and tried to rouse +myself, the more despondent and discontented I grew.</p> +<p>This time my physician was Mr. Stafford; I had deciphered a +bit of old French and Latin for him, and he was very much +pleased. ‘Why, Edward,’ he said, ‘you are +a very clever fellow; you can be a distinguished—or what is +better—a useful man.’</p> +<p>Somehow that saying restored the spring of hope, and gave an +impulse! I have not been a distinguished man, but I think +in my degree I have been a fairly useful one, and I am sure I +have been a happy one.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">E. W.</p> +<p>‘Useful! that you have, dear old fellow. Even if +you had done nothing else, and never been an unconscious backbone +to Clarence; your influence on me and mine has been unspeakably +blest. But pray, Mistress Anne, how about that question of +naughty little Clare’s?’</p> +<p style="text-align: right">M. W.</p> +<p>‘Don’t you think you had better let alone that +question, reverend sir? Youngest pets are apt to be saucy, +especially in these days, but I didn’t expect it of +you! It might have been the worse for you if W. C. W. had +not held his tongue in those days. Just like himself, but I +am heartily glad that so he did.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">A. W.’</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHANTRY HOUSE***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 7378-h.htm or 7378-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/7/3/7/7378 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive +specific permission. 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