fr&4 
 
 wm. wreford browr; 
 Cufton, 
 
THE 
 
 WHITE HOUSE BY THE SEA. 
 
THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 BY THE SEA. 
 
 ■s — - 1,1-' 1^6 
 
 BY 
 
 M. BETHAM-EDWARDS. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL. 
 
 1857. 
 [The Eight of Translation is reserved.'] 
 
S F Cjr# 
 
 THE 
 
 WHITE HOUSE BY THE SEA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "Den neue Gedanken und Gefiihle wir schieszende Sterne 
 durch die Seele fliegen, und einen blaugoldenen Pfad hinter 
 sich machen." — Tieck. 
 
 It was dismal enough ; dreary within, dusky 
 without — with the gathering shadows of autumn 
 twilight — and the gloom and the silence weighed 
 upon my spirits. There was too much appearance 
 of day to have candles, and though cold and 
 cheerless too early in the season for economical 
 people to have fires ; so there was nothing for me 
 to do but to look out of the window and listen to 
 the eternal surging of the sea. I never grew tired 
 of that, but I wearied of being alone. My father 
 
 $ VOL. I. B 
 
2, THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 dozed uncomfortably in his chair, and only spoke 
 now and then, to ask what o'clock it was, or to 
 complain about something or other in the way 
 that nervously affected people always do, and I 
 could hear Ellice's voice in cheerful conversation 
 to the cat in the kitchen. Oh, if my father would 
 but talk so cheerfully to me ! 
 
 "Chatty?" 
 
 " Yes, papa." 
 
 " Did you say it was a quarter to six, or a 
 quarter past six, when you looked at the clock 
 just now ? 
 
 « To six." 
 
 " Are you sure ? " 
 
 " Yes, quite, father dear." 
 
 He gave a muttered ejaculation of discontent, 
 and said no more. I thought he had fallen asleep, 
 but in less than five minutes he exclaimed 
 querulously — 
 
 "You must have made a mistake, Chatty, or 
 it would have struck six by now ; go and look, 
 there 's a dear." 
 
 I lingered in the kitchen as long as I could, 
 
BY THE SEA. 3 
 
 feeling loath to tell him that I was right, and when 
 I returned he had dropped into a light but sound 
 slumber. I took my old place by the window, and 
 went on thinking. I ought rather to say imagin- 
 ing, for in the monotony of my daily life I had 
 very little to think about, and, if it had not been 
 for the enthusiasm and extreme impetuosity of 
 my temperament, I should have been dull indeed. 
 As it was, I could not help wishing at times for 
 some good fairy's wand to make real and living 
 the bright pictures and dreams that my mind so 
 revelled in. But to-day my thoughts were not 
 entirely of a visionary nature. It was a very 
 slight thing ; a gossamer thread — a spider's chain 
 were stronger even, and yet it had bound down 
 my fancy to a substantial and tangible existence. 
 Pleasure parties in skiffs, painted boats and 
 light flying yachts innumerable had passed and 
 repassed all the summer long by our dark rock, 
 and I, perhaps, just raised my eyes for one glance, 
 and thought of them no more. Autumn has come 
 now ; the south wind blew soft and warm still at 
 midday, but there was a treacherous look in the 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 sun's bright rising, and every evening came with 
 an uneasy war of the waves and a falling of rain : 
 therefore summer visitors and gay holiday makers 
 deserted us, and I could no longer sit on the sandy 
 heath and be idle. 
 
 But hardly four hours ago, in spite of the misty 
 cloud and air, I had seen a boat dance by, swift 
 and joyous as though on wings, and it had come 
 near, very near to the little rugged stone on 
 which I stood. So near that I could distinctly see 
 the faces of those who were in it, and hear the gay 
 echo and laugh of their merry voices. 
 
 And somehow they dwelt on my memory. I 
 could not forget the sweet, happy face of the 
 young girl, or the magnificence of the ladies ; least 
 of all could I forget the dark-haired, bright-eyed 
 hero (for I made him a hero at once), with the 
 cavalierly figure and the handsome mouth which 
 smiled proudly. He was the embodiment of my 
 fairy-tale Prince, of my chivalric knight, and the 
 lifelike personification of all my girlish, unspeak- 
 able ideals. How beautiful he was ! And I had 
 watched for the return of the boat with a 
 
BY THE SEA. D 
 
 wondrous feeling of eager expectation and longing; 
 but with the coining darkness all my chances 
 seemed to have gone. Yet it must pass, some time 
 or other, I felt sure of that. Before and beyond 
 lay the ocean, and the only return to Ingham was 
 past our dwelling, for the high, bleak rocks which 
 were our sole neighbours, narrowed on the one 
 side into insignificance and to the town, on the 
 other to a vast plain of dry, short heaths and 
 brown grasses. So it must return, I thought, and 
 in the hope I had lingered beneath the rocks till 
 the clouds began to descend in drizzling rain, and 
 the chill air made me shiver. My disappointment 
 was great ; but even yet I watched at the window, 
 if only to see the boat glide by. I should feel 
 satisfied then, and I was very restless now. 
 Perhaps it had been upset ; I had heard of such 
 things happening in uncertain weather, and the 
 party had no boatman with them. Besides, it was 
 getting dark, and there was no moon till half-past 
 eleven. 
 
 My father still slept; and stealing on tip-toe, lest 
 Ellice should overhear me, I went to the hall 
 
THE WITITE HOUSE 
 
 window, opened it, and peered out. I fancied that, 
 mingled with the roar of the winds and waves, 
 I could hear the sound of a voice. I did not stop 
 to listen any more ; but, trembling with excitement 
 and eagerness, put a rushlight in the old hall 
 lantern, and throwing on my waterproof cloak, 
 jumped out of the window gently, and ran down 
 the garden path. 
 
 The rain was slight, but the wind had risen high, 
 and the night was very dark. I ran on in wild 
 haste, through the garden gate, down the zigzag 
 rock-cut path, and over the damp shingle to the 
 edge of the beach. Then I jumped on the top of 
 a square slippery stone, and held my lantern high 
 above my head. 
 
 Surely I heard a voice ! 
 
 I listened again breathlessly. I was right ; I 
 did hear a voice, and it hailed me. Still holding up 
 my lantern, I went a few steps farther in the direc- 
 tion of the sound, and then stopped once more. 
 
 The voice was near me now, and its tones were 
 distinct — at least, almost distinct; what I could 
 not quite plainly hear I could very well guess at. 
 
BY THE SEA. 7 
 
 " Can we land here ? " 
 
 I held up my lantern and strained my voice to 
 its highest pitch in answer, but it was of no avail. 
 Instead of a response there was only a re-echo. 
 
 " Can we land here ? " in a still louder key than 
 before. 
 
 Then I made a final desperate effort, throwing 
 all my energy of strength and lungs into a shrill — 
 
 " Yes ; higher up ! " 
 
 The effort was a success; and I drew a long 
 breath of glad exultation. 
 
 " A hundred yards ? " 
 
 " More ; about a hundred and forty." 
 
 Thanks to my knowledge of every nook and 
 corner, I could find the spot in the darkest night, 
 and in a minute or two I had gained it, and 
 stood on the flat, shelving stone, calling out 
 triumphantly — 
 
 " Here ! " 
 
 At last it was reached, and the boat shoved 
 in. I set down my lantern, and simultaneously 
 a tall figure sprang beside me. It was my hero. 
 Though too dark to see anything save the 
 
8 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 outline form, I knew it was him, and drew 
 back, irresolute and shy. 
 
 Then there was a clamour of many voices, 
 and almost a dozen questions and exclamations 
 burst forth at once. 
 
 " How glad I am to be safe on terra firma ! " 
 
 " I really thought we were upset ! " 
 
 "What a fearful night!" 
 
 "Isn't it jolly!" 
 
 " Oh, if I could but find my bonnet : and it 
 cost two guineas last week ! " 
 
 "Where's Lindsay?" 
 
 " Is the bottom of the boat out ? " 
 
 " What a hurricane ! " 
 
 "Who is it with the lantern?" 
 
 " Ah ! where is he ? " 
 
 And all at once the general attention and 
 interest were directed to myself: for some 
 minutes there was a great whispering and 
 discussion, I meanwhile standing aloof, silent 
 and motionless. At last it was ended by some 
 one taking up the lantern and holding it right 
 before my face : the scrutiny lasted many seconds, 
 
BY THE SEA. 9 
 
 and might have lasted many more if I had not 
 raised my eyes. 
 
 A dark handsome face was in close contact 
 to my own, wearing a comical expression of 
 perplexity and surprise, and then a manly and 
 sweet -sounding voice rang merrily through the 
 air. 
 
 a Where on earth did you come from ? " 
 
 Immediately the party surrounded me. I 
 could not answer their questions, they were so 
 numerous, and my heart beat high, and my 
 cheek glowed with pride and pleasure when they 
 praised and thanked me. I hardly remember 
 ever feeling so happy before. The ladies shook 
 hands with me, and the youngest clung to me 
 and kissed me over and over again. I loved 
 her at once, and felt convinced she was the one 
 whose pretty gentle face I had admired so much 
 in the morning. 
 
 " But' what 's to be done now, Lindsay ? " said 
 the tallest lady, " I have not the least idea 
 whereabouts we are ? " 
 
 " Really, Mrs. Dunstan, neither have I. 
 
10 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Suppose we rest on the sand here till the 
 morning. It would be the least troublesome 
 way of settling the matter." 
 
 "But something must be done/' rejoined the 
 lady, languidly ; " don't be so provoking, Lindsay ; 
 of course you do know where we are." 
 
 "On my word, my dear Mrs. Dunstan, I 
 was never more serious in my life ; but my firm 
 opinion is, that we are somewhere near the 
 Lizard's Point ! " 
 
 It was impossible to resist his humour and 
 raillery, and even Mrs. Dunstan joined in the 
 general laugh and said, good-temperedly — 
 
 " How ridiculous you are, when it is hundreds 
 of miles off — must be." 
 
 Then the former speaker turned to me. 
 
 " Here is our refuge," he said. " Come now, 
 brave little Grace Darling, tell us how we can 
 get to Ingham-Helmsley to-night. In the first 
 place, how far is it off?" 
 
 " Not far," I said, hurriedly ; " but won't you 
 come home — to papa's, I mean — it is quite near 
 and " 
 
BY THE SEA. 11 
 
 " Oil do, mamma ; do, dear Lindsay," said the 
 young girl who still held me tight round the 
 waist, "Do, dear Lindsay." 
 
 "Yes, do," I exclaimed, eagerly, "and then 
 you can settle about getting back to Ingham, 
 and we can dry your cloaks by the fire, and ' 
 
 "Perhaps it's the best thing we can do," said 
 the elder lady in a half whisper. " I don't know 
 who these people can be, but anyhow we are 
 all right with Lindsay." 
 
 At this, Lindsay (for such was the name of 
 my hero) gave a shrug of the shoulders, and a 
 significant, scornful laugh, and turning to me 
 started off with a — 
 
 "Who is for a warm fire, and for Ingham, 
 
 follow us." 
 
 His frank yielding to my guidance charmed 
 me, and, silent from very delight, I walked on 
 by his side. 
 
 "What a dreary out-of-the-way place!" I 
 heard Mrs. Dunstan say, as we reached the 
 house; and the other lady answered, in a voice 
 of caprice and affectation — 
 
12 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " Horrible ! It seems as you say, as if it 
 didn't belong to the world at all. Descendants 
 of brigands, perhaps." 
 
 " Ellice," I said, running into the kitchen a 
 few steps in advance, " here 's a party of ladies 
 and a gentleman who are wet and dripping, and 
 lost their way in a boat from the Mere Point to 
 Ingham : do put on some coals, Ellice, there 's 
 a dear, and let them come quite close to the 
 fire, they are so cold." 
 
 Then, leaving her in utter bewilderment, I 
 rushed to papa. 
 
 He looked positively frightened. 
 
 " Strangers ! you went to the shore ? — How 
 can you tell who or what they are, Chatty ? and 
 there are fourteen pounds and ten shillings in 
 the house, and I am as helpless as a child, and 
 not a creature within a mile round — Do they look 
 like swindlers ? — but how should you know ? — 
 Bless me — and the silver spoons are lying 
 about " 
 
 He was working himself into quite an agita- 
 tion. 
 
BY THE SEA. 13 
 
 " Dear papa," I said, smilingly and soothingly, 
 "the fourteen pounds are quite safe, and the 
 spoons, too; it's only a party of ladies with a 
 gentleman from Ingham-Helmsley who went this 
 afternoon in one of Ben's boats to the Mere 
 Point, and took a fancy to see the Boar's Head 
 Hill, which made them so late. They are so wet 
 and cold; you won't mind them sitting by the 
 kitchen-fire, will you, father dear?" 
 
 But he was not easily to be convinced. How 
 could I know who they were ? — I, a girl of six- 
 teen, totally unaccustomed to the ways of the 
 world ; and the spoons were all lying in the 
 kitchen ! But as they were in now, so they must 
 be: he couldn't turn them out. 
 
 So I left him. Certainly the party in the 
 kitchen looked very sociable, and as if silver 
 spoons were far from uppermost in their thoughts. 
 Mrs. Dunstan (I knew her by her matronly look 
 and air) had installed herself gracefully in Ellice's 
 arm-chair, and looked half asleep; a tall and 
 fashionable young lady, with a dark, Indian-look- 
 ing, but handsome face, sat by her, and gave 
 
14 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 stray glances into a little mirror that hung 
 opposite; Lindsay stood leaning against the wall, 
 his arms folded, a cigar in his mouth, and the 
 very picture of at home ease and comfort; and 
 the youngest of the party, a girl of about fifteen, 
 sat on a low stool beside him, with her bright, 
 sweet face turned to the door, as if watching for 
 me. 
 
 She jumped up when I entered, and made me 
 sit next to her. 
 
 " How I wish we hadn't to go home," she 
 said, dismally. " It 's so pleasant here." 
 
 "So do I," rejoined Lindsay: "this is better 
 than a boat with the bottom out, eh, Angelica?" 
 
 " Mr. Jocelyn, don't tease," said the tall young 
 lady, with a coquettish smile ; "I am sure I 
 never thought it was out, but I really have no 
 inclination to turn out in the cold again." 
 
 " I wish you could all stay here," I said, very 
 meekly, "but we have only one spare bed, and 
 I don't think that's aired." 
 
 I really felt grieved and perplexed at my utter 
 incapability of being hospitable, but was some- 
 
BY THE SEA. 15 
 
 what relieved by Lindsay's good humoured and 
 decided — 
 
 " But if you had forty aired beds, little Grace 
 Darling, we should have to turn out just the 
 same; why, our anxious friends would think we 
 were, as Mr. Stirling's gardener says, f drownded 
 to the bottom.'" 
 
 "Ah!" said Mrs, Dunstan, consolingly, and 
 as if suddenly roused, " Mr. Stirling will send 
 the carriage for us, of course." 
 
 Lindsay laughed outright. 
 
 " Of course he would ; but, my dear madam, 
 in the first place, since your arrival in this 
 house have you sent some c tricksy spirit' to 
 put a girdle round Ingham -Helmsley in forty 
 seconds, or minutes ? " 
 
 « Why, of course, I forgot that he doesn't 
 know we are here ; " and Mrs. Dunstan sighed. 
 
 Lindsay went to the window and looked out. 
 
 " It 's a very dark, stormy night," he said, 
 shrugging his shoulders, u and by no means 
 inviting, after this cheerful fire ; but the only 
 thing to be done, I think, is for me to find my 
 
16 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 way to Ingham, somehow, and send the carriage. 
 I do not promise you how long I may be, for 
 I have not the slightest idea of the way." 
 
 "Couldn't one of the servants go?" Angelica 
 said, rudely, 
 
 Mrs. Dunstan touched her arm reprovingly, 
 with a look as much as to say — "Remember, 
 my dear, what uncivilized people we are among." 
 
 And before I had time to answer, Lindsay 
 turned to me. 
 
 " Will you kindly indicate the way to me," 
 he said, in a low, pleasing voice, " and I shall 
 have double cause to be grateful." 
 
 " I will do my best," I answered, " but it is 
 rather difficult; there are so many cross-roads 
 below the heath, and no guiding marks." 
 
 He had buttoned his coat up tight now, and 
 wrapped a grey Scotch plaid around him. 
 
 " I think, if you would not mind pointing the 
 direction to me from the door, that I shall be 
 able to manage it; things in the abstract are 
 easy to me." 
 
 I smiled, and putting on my cloak followed 
 
BY THE SEA. 17 
 
 him to the door ; but it was very dark, and 
 we had to walk some steps before we could 
 distinctly see anything. At the garden gate he 
 stopped and drew my cloak closer round me. 
 I thanked him, and we walked on. 
 
 " I hope you will not take cold from this 
 evening's adventure," he said; "you have been 
 so truly a heroine to-night. I cannot thank 
 you enough, and shall always remember it." 
 
 He walked slower, and continued, — 
 
 " This is a lonely place for you to live in ; 
 have you no brothers or sisters?" 
 
 "No: no one but papa." I answered with 
 difficulty, for there was a joy and agitation at 
 my heart that almost took away the power of 
 speech. 
 
 " How strange ! " he added ; " and indeed there 
 is a hue of romance about this night's adven- 
 ture which has taken a marvellous hold on my 
 imagination; it is so unlike the everyday occur- 
 rences of a busy or gay life in the world. I 
 am very glad that it has happened." 
 
 We had now reached the spot from whence 
 
 vol. I. c 
 
18 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 could be faintly seen the glimmering lights of 
 Ingham. I stopped and pointed to them. 
 
 (i If you follow straight in that direction," I 
 said in a strangely trembling voice, " I do not 
 think you can go far out of the way, and when 
 you reach the town I think the directest route to 
 Mr. Stirling's is to turn off by the new church." 
 
 Lindsay dropped his voice to a lower key, 
 and said : — 
 
 " I wish I could have my guide the whole way." 
 
 I shook my head, and turned homewards, 
 without reply, for I knew not what to say. 
 
 <s Forgive me, if my words displeased you. " 
 
 " Oh no, " I said, " oh no, but I hope you 
 will be able " 
 
 " Don't say a word ; you have been most kind 
 already. Oh, I shall get there somehow ! " 
 
 Then he accompanied me back to the door. 
 
 " Good-bye," he said holding out his hand. 
 
 " Good-bye." 
 
 My voice quavered, and my hand shook in 
 his. He echoed the parting word once more, 
 raised his hat to me, and bounded off. 
 
BY THE SEA. 19 
 
 Before an hour and a half from that time we 
 were again alone, — papa, Ellice and I. The 
 doors and windows were barred; the fire was 
 put out; the mat was laid down for Bailie, 
 and we retired to rest. 
 
 But it was a long time before I could sleep 
 that night ; and when I did, it was to dream and 
 start and wake again. I was still standing on the 
 shore on a dark evening, and trying to make 
 my voice heard ; then the boat went down, and 
 I, all the time, was vainly trying to save it. 
 Again the dream changed; the fair face of my 
 new friend smiled on me with looks of sister-love 
 and gladness, and he was near me too. I 
 trembled with joy to hear his voice, and woke 
 up sobbing. Then I dreamed again, and the dear 
 faces were gone ; it was twilight, and I thought 
 I was looking out of the window, wishing for 
 the return of something — I knew not what. But 
 it was all a dream ; and when I awoke, the sea 
 was smooth and shining, the sun sparkled on 
 it, and I remembered that the dream and the 
 reality were both passed away. 
 
 c 2 
 
20 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Mine was a very lonely life. From my 
 childhood I had been without a playmate : as a 
 girl I was entirely without a companion, and 
 therefore I had acquired some sober habits 
 and ways that were not suited to my years. 
 Still my disposition was a happy one, and my 
 spirits were naturally high, and easily excited; 
 but the joyousness and the eagerness had to 
 be much and often checked. My poor father 
 wished me to have a pleasant life, I am sure ; 
 and the thoughts of my isolated and friendless 
 youth troubled him greatly : but mental sufferers, 
 I have always observed, in a considerable degree 
 get entirely absorbed and wrapt up in their 
 own individual misfortunes. He saw me full of 
 life, health, and vigour ; and, as far as the ordinary 
 
BY THE SEA. 21 
 
 requirements of life are concerned, I was pretty- 
 well off; whilst he was paralytic, nervous, 
 debilitated, and desponding. No wonder that, 
 looking as he did from his own existence to 
 mine, he did not often pity me. But I was 
 dear to him — oh ! very dear — and all the 
 irritableness, all the fretful moods, all the 
 complaining and discontent, I could forgive and 
 bear patiently, for the sake of that one dear 
 love, the only love that was bestowed upon me. 
 I did weary of the loneliness at times ; I could 
 not help it. I longed for some change in the 
 monotonous life, some affection for the yearning 
 heart, some object or gift to alter and brighten 
 the daily course. Every Sunday afternoon I 
 used to stay at home with papa, and let Ellice 
 go to church, for she was a kind-hearted, willing 
 girl, and I wanted to make her contented ; when 
 I watched her coming home, over the heath 
 or by the beach, with troops of merry gay-dressed 
 friends, I drew back with a dreary feeling at 
 heart almost like envy. I am ashamed to confess 
 it, but it is true. I so longed and sickened for 
 
22 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 home -happiness, home -love, home -sisterhood. 
 Papa and Ellice were both most kind, but they 
 could not understand me and be my friends. 
 How could I expect it? And I tried to be 
 thankful for their kindness, and be content. It 
 was a strange life for one so young to lead. I 
 had no education except what I gave myself 
 from books, and I was left to choose my 
 occupations and pursuits at will. For this I 
 might have fared ill, but I had an insatiable 
 passion for reading and somewhat of a reflective 
 turn of mind. I read not merely for amuse- 
 ment, but from curiosity, and possessed a good 
 memory. 
 
 And I had ample choice of books. Twice a 
 week, or oftener, I ran down to the Ingham 
 Town-Hall Library, and came home laden with 
 miscellaneous literature. The old librarian was 
 quite a friendly patron to me, and (though it is 
 a great secret) always gave me back half the 
 subscription fee, and let me carry all the second 
 day's Times for papa to read. Ah, dear kind- 
 hearted Mr. Binnie ! It's a great shame to betray 
 
BY THE SEA. 23 
 
 your confidence to the world, but let 's hope 
 that none of the Committee will ever be the 
 wiser. If they are, I have only to say that the 
 ten shillings invariably went for a turkey on 
 Christmas Day, which was a great treat to poor 
 papa (and nervous people think so much of their 
 dinners ! ), which we never should have had if 
 it hadn't been for Mr. Binnie. He was a funny 
 looking old man, and shuffled about in a thread- 
 bare grey coat, as if he had been on skates. 
 That poor everlasting grey coat ! he did not 
 defraud the Committee for himself, that was 
 evident. Often and often have I wished, as I 
 saw him fumbling over dusty books, and patting 
 down the dogs' ears with paternal fondness, that 
 Government would give him a pension. He 
 was so poor and so contented ! and I felt sure 
 he must be getting tired of the dogs' ears and 
 dustiness. Poor geniuses and poor clever people 
 get pensions sometimes, and though Mr. Binnie 
 was neither, is he the less deserving ? 
 
 But I must also mention another friend of 
 mine Mr. Bean the Ingham surgeon : I will try 
 
24 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 and draw him skilfully, dear reader, for there 
 are not many Mr. Beans in the world, and I 
 would fain implant in your hearts the leaven 
 of the pride, the reverence, the love, and the 
 heartiness which all Ingham Iielmsley felt for 
 its little, good, clever doctor. I do not 
 think I shall say a word about his outward man ; 
 and yet why not ? It is only in childhood that we 
 love the letter rather than the spirit — the setting 
 rather than the diamond — the gaudy binding 
 rather than the matter of the book ; but in riper 
 years it is not so. Who, if the picture is a genuine 
 RafFaelle, will admire or value it less that it is 
 put in a worthless frame of poor gilt or rude 
 carving ? Oh, it seems to me a poor and childlike 
 wisdom to love and treasure and extol this 
 mortal facing and carving of ours, over which 
 time, disease, and veriest chance rule supreme, 
 beyond the inestimable and eternal jewel which 
 God hath placed within ! Therefore I will 
 be brave and speak candidly of Mr. Bean's 
 littleness of stature and outward imperfections. 
 But though he was small and plain, he was by 
 
BY THE SEA. 25 
 
 no means insignificant-looking; his eyes were 
 bright, sparkling, and expressive; his thoughtful 
 mouth often smiled with much good nature and 
 enjoyment, and his high forehead betrayed plainly 
 enough uncommon mind and character. Uncom- 
 mon he certainly was, in appearance as well as 
 in talent and benevolence ; he always wore a 
 very long tail coat and a very broad brimmed 
 hat, and both in winter and summer carried a 
 huge cotton umbrella, which he shouldered much 
 as a soldier would his gun. Then his shoes 
 were extremely short and broad; it must have 
 been a whim to wear them so— no feet could fit 
 such shoes. Ellice used to say that if ever 
 Ingham were flooded, as it was reported it 
 once had been, she should wish for no better 
 canoe than one of the Doctor's shoes. But in 
 spite of his shoes, his umbrella, and other oddities, 
 there could not possibly be a more excellent 
 man than Mr. Bean, and I am sure no one was 
 ever more respected. He was very kind to both 
 papa and myself; and though he used to say a 
 good deal which I could not understand, I was 
 
26 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 always glad of a visit to the surgery. He had 
 ever something to show me ; a curious picture- 
 book, a chemical experiment, or some stuffed 
 birds. Sometimes he asked me to tea ; and in 
 those days of solitariness it was a great treat, 
 although I stood somewhat in awe of tall, 
 handsome Mrs. Bean, whose magnificence of 
 look and dress inspired me with a far greater 
 awe than all the Doctor's learning and philosophy : 
 which timidity in question incited me very 
 carefully to scrape my shoes, and rub them on 
 the hall-door mat, and to take great care lest I 
 should spill my tea and scatter any crumbs on 
 the bright red carpet. Nevertheless Mrs. Bean 
 was motherly and hospitable, and tried to make 
 me happy. 
 
 And such was my life in the lonely White House 
 by the Sea. A heap of books, changed once or 
 twice a week ; a nod and a friendly chat with old 
 Mr. Binnie ; a sumptuous tea of sponge cake and 
 potted hare at the Doctor's, two or three times 
 a year ; a row round the Mere Point, or a walk 
 to the little hamlet of Ashford, every Michaelmas 
 
BY THE SEA. 27 
 
 to buy apples; these were all the changes and 
 varieties that I ever enjoyed: and yet I was 
 happy— nappy in my loneliness, happy in my 
 privations, happy in my trials. I confess 
 sometimes that I felt inclined to long and pine 
 for the advantages of which I was deprived, but 
 I resisted the rebellious feeling whenever it 
 came, for I knew it was wrong. Nothing tempted 
 me to give way to it so much as the sight of 
 day-pupils issuing from the large pompous door 
 of the fashionable French boarding-school at 
 Ingham. Sometimes, as I returned from the 
 library, they were coming out in merry groups 
 with hands entwined, and carrying bags of books. 
 I envied both the books and the companionship, 
 but the companionship the most. 
 
 Sometimes papa used to say — 
 
 "Poor little Chatty— poor lfttle Chatty, you 
 ought to go to school." 
 
 Then I would coax and caress him, and say 
 that I could do very well without school at 
 all, and that the Doctor said I wrote a better 
 hand than any one of my age he knew. 
 
28 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Then papa would continue : — 
 
 " If you could but learn music ! I should so 
 like to hear c Non piu mesta! ' " 
 
 And I wished so too, and imagined the 
 61 Non piu mesta" to be the most delightful 
 thing in the world; but I have since ceased to 
 regret that I never learned music, and have 
 discovered that people can be tolerably happy 
 without it. 
 
 No wonder that leading such a quiet and 
 uniform life as I did, the occurrence that I have 
 narrated in the first chapter made so deep an 
 impression on my mind. The face of the young 
 girl who had hung so affectionately and spon- 
 taneously to me, haunted me by night and by 
 .day, but the face and voice of Lindsay haunted 
 me most of all. I thought of them over and over 
 again, and recalled all the words that had passed 
 between us, drawing unceasingly the bright, bright 
 picture. I paused over the half-closed volume 
 of Shakespeare or Bulwer Lytton to dream 
 the dear dream again, and never longed for 
 candles to come in the twilight hour, but sat in 
 
BY THE SEA. 29 
 
 quiet enjoyment of the memory which could not 
 fade. 
 
 Should I ever see him again, or would it 
 remain a memory, and nothing more ? 
 
30 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " My goodness gracious me, Miss Chatty, I 
 won't believe it ! " 
 
 " Believe what, Ellice ? " 
 
 " Why, dear, don't you know ? Oh, I forgot ; 
 of course you don't. How surprised master will 
 be!" 
 
 News in any shape was welcome to poor 
 nervous ennuyi papa ; so, without enlightening 
 me, Ellice ran straight into the little parlour, 
 and exclaimed — 
 
 " Mr. Stirling is married, as true as I 'm living, 
 sir ! " 
 
 So here was the wonderful surprising intelli- 
 gence; but I felt quite disappointed. Except as 
 Mr. Stirling's name had been linked in my memory 
 with my unknown friends, it had no interest 
 
BY THE SEA. 31 
 
 for me, but far otherwise with papa. He let 
 the paper fall to the ground, and regarded Ellice 
 with wide-open, wondering mouth and eyes. 
 
 "Married!" 
 
 " Yes, and I say it 's a burning shame, sir, that 
 a gentleman like him should so disgrace himself, 
 and " 
 
 " It's to Ellen White, then?" 
 
 " Of course it is, sir, and I saw them going 
 to church with my very own eyes ; if I hadn't I 
 don't think anything would have made me believe 
 it ; such a scandalous thing — and Mr. Stirling is 
 the grandest gentleman in the place, too. It's a 
 disgrace to the place, sir." 
 
 " And who did you see, Ellice ? " said my 
 father, musingly. 
 
 " I saw only two in the carriage, you see, sir 
 — as I was coming up the street, and they were 
 going down — and those two were Mr. Stirling 
 and the girl Ellen White. I did not see her face 
 very well, nor his either, but well enough to 
 'dentify them, sir." 
 
 "Poor man!" ejaculated my father. 
 
32 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " Indeed I don't think he deserves to be 
 pitied," Ellice said, impatiently ; " why, sir, if he 
 likes to get himself into such a scrape, whose 
 fault is it but his own? I've no patience with 
 it. A gentleman like him, too, and of a high 
 family and everything, to go and marry a — 
 a — a girl whose name I 'm sure my mother 
 wouldn't hear me mention for the world." 
 
 "But why not, Ellice?" I asked innocently. 
 "It is not fit for young ladies like you to 
 hear about, Miss Chatty, because Ellen White 
 was a very improper behaved girl, and not fit 
 to be servant to a gentleman like Mr. Stirling. 
 Married indeed ! a pretty encouragement to 
 
 all " 
 
 "Hush!" said my father; "he has a right to 
 do as he likes, you know, Ellice ; and whatever 
 he does, he is a very good and a very clever 
 man ; and people all have fancies." 
 "Fancies!" 
 
 Ellice's voice and look were the very essence 
 of annoyance and irritation, and I wish very 
 much I could draw the look and give the tone 
 
BY THE SEA. 33 
 
 of the voice — they were so expressive; but she 
 said no more. When she was gone, papa and 
 I both fell into a reverie. 
 
 He was thinking about Mr. Stirling, and 
 presently said, as if working out a conclusion of 
 the argument in his own mind — 
 
 " Perhaps he is acting up to principle." 
 
 "What principle, papa?" I said, gently. 
 
 "Of right, Chatty." 
 
 Papa said no more, and though somewhat 
 puzzled, I did not like to ask him any other 
 questions; he seemed for once forgetting all 
 individual troubles in a contemplation. 
 
 Meantime November came. The wind blew 
 high and loud around our dwelling, and the dull 
 dark days made my father low spirited and 
 desponding. It was a dreary time for Ellice 
 and for me. All our ingenuity, patience, and 
 stringent efforts were taxed to the utmost, and 
 concentrated on the one sole object of instilling 
 into our invalid's mind something of cheerful- 
 ness and hope. Mr. Bean in such times was an 
 angel of sunslnne and goodness. The topic of 
 
 vol. I. b 
 
34 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Mr. Stirling was revived over and over again: 
 and if ever I left papa and the Doctor together, 
 when I returned, they had invariably gone back 
 to the old subject. Once as I went in, Mr. 
 Bean was standing before the fire, and said, 
 with a very pointed summing up of all and 
 everv reasoning — 
 
 (( Depend on it, my dear sir, that it is so. 
 Mr. Stirling is a very fine character ; and a 
 man who will brave and defy the world for the 
 sake of a principle of right as he has done — 
 why, sir, where will you find another like him ? " 
 I could not reconcile conflicting arguments at 
 all, and I so wanted to see my way clear, and 
 decide for myself. My independent and respon- 
 sible way of life had given me a habit of reflective 
 seriousness that I believe few at such an early 
 age possess ; I had no one whose opinion I could 
 take, or whose commands I could obey, as other 
 children have : but when I was in difficult v as to 
 the right or wrong of anything, I had to work 
 out a decision for myself. But here I felt that 
 I could not judge ; Ell ice's words and the reports 
 
BY THE SEA. 35 
 
 of Ingham indignation and scandal, Mr. Bean's 
 settled approval and admiration — and so good 
 and wise as lie was — how could I reconcile or 
 account for it? Then Mr. Stirling's high position, 
 his talent, his honourable reputation, and his 
 exalted character, was it possible that he could 
 stoop at once to what was really a moral 
 degradation?-— as, if he was truly doing right, 
 and sacrificing his reputation merely for the 
 sake of his right thinking, oh, was it not very 
 noble and beautiful of him to do so, and heartless 
 of the world to sneer at him for it? I felt as if 
 I should respect and love and honour him tenfold. 
 
 I touched the Doctor's arm gently. 
 
 "If Mr. Stirling has done right, then why 
 do people talk so about him?" 
 
 " So, how do you mean, Chatty?" 
 
 The tears filled my eyes. I quite loved and 
 honoured Mr. Stirling already. 
 
 " As Ellice does, and as everybody in Ingham 
 does; as if they had a right to say anything 
 they pleased about him ; so unkindly and cruelly, 
 Mr. Bean." 
 
 D 2 
 
36 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 He smiled, and looked at me curiously. 
 
 "They ought to like him the better for it," 
 I continued, sedately. 
 
 " But every one does not think alike, Chatty, 
 and what one holds law another laughs at; 
 besides the world doesn't always like people 
 the better for doing what is right, little one.'" 
 
 " It ought," I replied, very gravely. 
 
 " Yes ; but ought does not always take place, 
 you know\ Chatty, listen to me," said Mr. Bean, 
 in a serious tone. "You little think how cruel 
 and unjust the world and the world's opinion 
 can be sometimes ; but you will find out — at 
 least I fear so. There are some crimes it 
 never censures ; and some virtues it never 
 forgives. Some time ago — a few r years only — 
 Mr. Stirling was little like the man he is now: 
 intellectual and generous -minded he always was, 
 but in his youth he was not strong enough 
 to resist entirely the temptations to which 
 all young men of rank are exposed. I suppose 
 no one is. He committed a great fault — a sin 
 I should call it — and Ellen White was the 
 
BY THE SEA. 37 
 
 person whom he wronged ; but she was of humble 
 birth, and the world smiled on the young, rich, 
 handsome Mr. Stirling, and glossed over his fault. 
 It never pitied Ellen White. Mr. Stirling went 
 abroad, as the fashion is when young men leave 
 college, and the girl was left alone to her suffering 
 and shame. I know well what her trials were. 
 She was an only child, and the pride, and darling, 
 and hope of her parents, who were very poor, 
 but respectable and hard-working, and she was 
 pretty — of course. Her father died of a broken 
 heart, and the mother, goaded almost to insanity 
 by her child's humiliation, set off on foot to some 
 friends in Scotland, and died on the way, of 
 weariness and want. How the poor girl repented 
 and sorrowed I cannot by any words express. 
 Her grief and wretchedness were beyond all 
 imagination; I believe if it had not been for 
 even the small assistance and benefit I was 
 enabled to render her, that she would have 
 died too; but she lived, and by the greatest 
 industry and patience supported herself for 
 some years by needlework. A short time 
 
38 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 back, Mr. Stirling took up his residence at 
 Ingham : every one courted him, every one 
 sought after him, and fawned on him; but he 
 has scorned it all, and has made openly, in 
 the sight of God and of the world, a brave 
 atonement for his sin." 
 
 Mr. Bean wiped a tear from his eye. 
 
 " Now, Chatty, don't you confess that this 
 man's soul is truly Roman?" 
 
 " Oh yes," I exclaimed eagerly ; " how good 
 of him, how noble!" 
 
 " It is indeed, but Mrs. Bean's toast is being 
 made, I know. Good-bye." 
 
 The dull foggy weather lasted a long time. 
 It seemed to me as if the clear, frosty, cheerful 
 winter would never come, and Ellice and I 
 longed for it more than I can tell. Do all 
 we could, neither my father's low spirits or 
 nervous irritableness would go. 
 
 Every morning we woke to the same task, 
 every evenino; we felt that our task must be 
 begun again on the morrow — the disheartening, 
 wearying task of constant cheering, and patient 
 
BY THE SEA. 39 
 
 endurance of poor papa's fretful humours. There 
 was no possibility of pleasing him. If we got 
 any little extra dish or delicacy for his dinner, 
 he would sigh over it, and bewail our kindness 
 with tears ; if we brought up the remains of the 
 yesterday's dinner, he moaned at the insufficiency 
 of his means to procure an enjoyable meal ; he 
 wished all day for the night to come, and when 
 it was Sunday wished it was Monday, and vice 
 versa. Ellice's high spirits and good humour 
 bore her through everything, but sometimes 
 her patience gave way; still, she was too fond 
 of me to complain, and the utmost of her 
 irritation never went beyond an emphatic, 
 " Fancies ! " 
 
 One night when papa was gone to bed, I put 
 out the parlour candle and went into the kitchen. 
 I was too wearied to read, and my heart was full 
 of a sadness that needed sympathy. 
 
 Ellice was singing to herself as she worked — 
 
 " Oh where, and oh where, is my Highland laddie gone ? " 
 " Why, my heart, Miss Chatty dear, how pale 
 
40 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 you look ! " she said, breaking off, and taking hold 
 of my two hands coaxingly. 
 
 " I 'm very well, Ellice ; only tired." 
 
 " And so you may well be, poor little dear : 
 it's those blessed fancies; they 're enough to tire 
 any one." 
 
 " Do you know, Ellice," I said, " I have been 
 thinking of something to-night." 
 
 " And what is it, dear ? " 
 
 " I don't think you ought to stay here any 
 longer ; you could get a much better place, and 
 it 's so miserable for you, now papa is worse." 
 
 The affectionate girl burst into tears. 
 
 " Go ? To another place ? Do you think I 
 would? Never, as long as I'm a servant!" 
 
 " I should be very sorry to lose you, Ellice," 
 I said, tearfully, " but it seems a shame for you 
 to be here, when you could be so much better 
 off somewhere else, and live much better and 
 have higher wages, too." 
 
 Ellice had dried her tears, and now spoke 
 quite indignantly. 
 
 " Bless my heart, Miss Chatty, do you think 
 
BY THE SEA. 
 
 41 
 
 I'm so unchristianlike as to care about nothing 
 but eating and drinking? Not I : and, after all, 
 why I'm sure we live well enough, and as to 
 the fancies— lawk, Miss Chatty, I've known 
 people with ten times worse fancies than master. 
 I might get a trine more wages in a smarter 
 place, I dare say, but I should have to dress it 
 wholly entirely away if I did, and I couldn't do 
 so much as I like as I do here." 
 
 Ellice's vehemence and earnestness re-assured 
 me; I felt that she was sincere, and thanked 
 her for her affection gratefully. We sat up by 
 the little fire a long time, and talked about 
 many things. 
 
 "Miss Chatty," she said, after some time, 
 "wouldn't you like to see them again?" 
 
 "Whom do you mean?" I asked in bewilder- 
 ment. 
 
 "Why the ladies and gentleman from Mr. 
 
 Stirling's." 
 
 "Perhaps we shall some day," I said hope- 
 fully. 
 
 "We might have done, but we shan't now, 
 
42 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Miss Chatty dear, you know; for none of Mr. 
 Stirling's friends will come and see him after 
 this — they can't be expected." 
 
 And must I give up that hope, then? Oh, 
 no. The only possible future in my life was 
 linked to it, and it had coloured my hitherto 
 futureless, joyless, isolated life -with beauty and 
 radiance, as the morning sky is golden with the 
 glory of a sun not yet arisen. 
 
 Only they who have known such a youth of 
 loneliness as mine can comprehend and enter 
 fully into this feeling. True, that I had seen 
 Lindsay Jocelyn once only, and true that we 
 had interchanged few words ; but if my readers 
 will consider for one moment the utter solitude 
 of my home and heart — the dreary, dreary same- 
 ness of my daily life — it will not sound extra- 
 vagant to say that I yearned to look once more 
 upon his face, and to listen once more to his 
 voice, with a passionate and deep yearning — 
 the more deep that he was the first human 
 being who had awakened an interest in me. 
 There had been something, I know not what, 
 
BY THE SEA. 43 
 
 in the sweetness of his voice and in the earnest- 
 ness of his look and manner which had inspired 
 me with a confidence, so to say, and an impres- 
 sion that he could understand all that untold 
 want of my heart — all the thirsting for sympathy 
 and for friendship — all that blank and bitterness 
 which was sadder to bear since it had to be 
 borne in silence. 
 
 Besides, the isolated and unnatural position, so 
 to speak, in which I was placed had conspired 
 to tinge my mind with a hue of romance. I 
 stood, as it were, on the boundary line of two 
 classes, the aristocratic and the middle ; yet, in 
 truth, I could be said to belong to neither. The 
 blood that ran in my veins was of a proud 
 and high race ; my hands were small and white, 
 bespeaking a good lineage; and my brow had 
 the chiselling of a dozen, and yet a dozen, and 
 a dozen more ancestors of the same lofty birth. 
 Yet the vain daughters of the rich Ingham 
 merchants would have thought it far beneath 
 their dignity to incline their heads to me from 
 their shining carriages ; and as in my early 
 
44 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 childhood I had been without a playmate, now, 
 when I was growing to be a woman, I was 
 entirely without a companion. And I was some- 
 what of an imaginative and ardent temperament. 
 Constant loneliness, and constant monotony of 
 existence, though they had both tempered and 
 subdued the enthusiasm, had served strongly to 
 heighten and foster the imaginativeness ; no 
 wonder, therefore, that a circumstance like that 
 I have related in my first chapter should have 
 taken so vivid a hold on my memory, and that 
 I should have so cherished the recollection and 
 the hope which arose from it. 
 
 To say that I loved Lindsay Jocelyn would 
 be going too far; it was impossible to love one 
 of whom I had seen so little; yet I cannot 
 think of a fitting term to express the feeling I 
 entertained for him. For this, oh reader, if 
 thou art no longer young, go back to thy 
 youth; remember that I was almost a child in 
 years and in knowledge, and remember also that 
 he was to me as " the chiefest among ten 
 thousand — his stature was like to a palm-tree — 
 
BY THE SEA. 45 
 
 lie was fair, yea, pleasant, lie had dove's eyes, 
 and his lips were like a thread of scarlet." 
 Beanty I had seldom seen ; such beauty and 
 manliness, such strength and gentleness com- 
 bined I had never seen before. So I looked 
 into the dim future, and said earnestly, " Let 
 me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice, 
 for comely is thy countenance, and thy voice 
 sweet; would Jhat I were in thy eyes as one 
 that found favour." 
 
46 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " What a dreary place it looks ! " 
 
 When there was no cold wind- 1 used to coax 
 my father into a little stroll ; it always did him 
 good, and, supported on one side by my arm, 
 and on the other by a stout stick, he could walk 
 very well. Anything was better for him than 
 a whole long day in-doors. 
 
 " What a dreary place it looks ! " 
 
 Well might he say so. Oh how bleak and 
 desolate our little dwelling looked, standing 
 alone as it did anions brown rocks and barren 
 sandy plains ! In the summer these plains would 
 be covered with short grasses and heaths ; the 
 skies were blue above ; the sun glittered on the 
 glorious sea, and my dearly-loved garden-flowers 
 bloomed in gay profusion. But now there was 
 
BY THE SEA. 47 
 
 no blue sky, no bright sunshine, no sweet 
 smelling flowers. All was cold, and hard, and 
 barren. 
 
 u Dear papa," I exclaimed, cheerfully, " we 
 shall soon have spring now, you know ! " 
 
 " February — March — April. It 's a long time." 
 ce It won't seem Ions;." 
 
 (( Ay, dearie, you are young : you can look 
 forward and hope, and see the bright side of 
 everything ; when yon are as old as I am it 
 will be different. It will be ten years in May 
 since I came here, ten years on the eighteenth 
 of May. Oh, it was such lovely weather when 
 we came, Chatty, and yet the place looked drearier 
 to me then than it does now. I ought to have 
 considered you more ; I never ought to have 
 come here, for your sake, dearie." 
 
 f( But, papa dear, why regret it on my 
 account ? Am I not happy ? Have I not you 
 to love me ? Oh, I don't mind the dreariness. 
 Why should we, papa? It is not a place that 
 makes happiness ; we have much to be thankful 
 for." 
 
48 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " So we have — so we have/' rejoined my 
 father, sadly. " God forgive my discontent ! If 
 I had been left all alone I should have had no 
 right to murmur; but I cannot help looking 
 back to the old times, and at night sometimes 
 I dream that I am at Arrowmere, and every- 
 thing is as it used to be, and " 
 
 He burst into tears of passionate emotion and 
 exclaimed — 
 
 " And to wake and find how all is changed ! 
 To think that you who were born an heiress 
 are poorer than were the poorest of my servants' 
 children, and that we shall never, never see 
 Arrowmere again." 
 
 Tears stopped his utterance, and we entered 
 the house in melancholy silence. A new sadness 
 filled my heart. I yearned for a man's strength 
 and for a man's freedom. I forgot for a time 
 my duty of submission to the Eternal Power, 
 and scorned in powerless bitterness and agony 
 my woman's weakness and woman's sphere. Oh, 
 for courage, for ambition, for energy, to set up 
 a high hope and eminence and then to reach 
 
BY THE SEA. 49 
 
 it ! to win back the fair heritage and sunshine 
 of the past, which misfortune and circumstance 
 had wrested from my father's hand; to enter 
 the lists of the great Tournament boldly, and 
 dare all, with my ancestral bravery in my heart, 
 and my ancestral badge on my breast — 
 
 "per ardua surgam." 
 
 Alas, alas ! It was not till later that I attained 
 a serene contentment from the consciousness of 
 a hio-her ambition and loftier courage. 
 
 To uphold and strengthen that generous but 
 broken spirit, which had no other support ; to 
 make up for lost happiness, lost friends, and lost 
 comfort, by a supreme love and never-failing 
 tenderness ; and to feel this : to know that I 
 was all in all to him, the sunshine in his darkness, 
 and the savour and salt of his daily life; to 
 know how he watched for my form and listened 
 for my step; was not this sweet duty and 
 this sweeter reward enough ? 
 
 The winter passed at length, and spring came. 
 My father was better, cheerfuller and stronger; 
 
 VOL. i. e 
 
50 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 in the sunny afternoons lie dozed for hours 
 together on our garden seat; and, having him 
 still in sight, I could take pleasant strolls by 
 the beach, or sit on the ridge of the heath and 
 read. This ridge was my favourite spot ; so 
 solitary and so quiet. Before me lay the sea, 
 vast, illimitless, and shining silver-bright in the 
 sun ; and around were rocks, heathers, and sandy 
 strips of land. It w T as somewhat dreary, and 
 yet my heart loved it. 
 
 With the spring had come renewed hope; a 
 hope which was cherished in secret, but which 
 never flagged. 
 
 Shall I see him again, or would it remain a 
 memory and nothing more ? 
 
BY THE SEA. 5 L 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 It is a calm and pleasant day in early summer. 
 The sky is necked with soft white clouds which 
 
 " Sail as if onward to some other sphere." 
 
 The purple waves dance and gambol beneath 
 the merry, golden sunlight, and flights of gull 
 soar and make wide triumphant circles in the 
 air ; flocks of sheep and lambs are browsing on the 
 fresh-looking heath, tended by ragged boys who 
 sing and shout gleefully ; and the hills are 
 spotted with white clover blossoms, and violet 
 and pink heather-flowers, which smell sweetly. 
 Even around our home there is a look of 
 freshness and of summer beauty. The rose-trees 
 that I have trained so carefully to the walls 
 reward my watchfulness at last with clusters 
 
 E 2 
 
52 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 of red velvet buds, the gooseberry and currant 
 bushes are in full leaf, the apple-tree heavy 
 with a glory of green foliage and delicate shell- 
 like blooms, and the air that comes into the 
 room is fragrant with the breath of misnionette. 
 Such a day as this even works a beneficial 
 influence on papa; he cannot possibly find fault 
 with it, and passes his time by walking from 
 the parlour to the garden, and from the garden 
 to the parlour back again. Bailie barks in the 
 sun, and Ellice sings, over and over again — 
 
 " Oh where, and oh where, is my Highland laddie gone ? " 
 
 as happy as a queen at her work. 
 
 I am a sad idler to-day. I cannot stay 
 at my books; and close them like a released 
 child, to rove over the soft heath, or by the 
 shore, to pick up shells and look on the shining, 
 magnificent sea. But I cannot rest in any place : 
 a strange, volatile humour is over me which 
 I am unable to resist. I wander up and down 
 the beach listlessly, dreamily; then I climb the 
 hill, and with no settled purpose roam from 
 
BY THE SEA. 53 
 
 hillock to hillock, and from the heights to the 
 shore, alternately. A little way from the rocks, 
 and within view from onr windows, is an old 
 shapeless ruin, no one knows of what ; perhaps 
 a castle, perhaps a cottage — who can say, since 
 time lays the same heavy hand on both ? I sit 
 on a heap of mould and bricks, and my heart 
 is filled with the loveliness and joy and freshness 
 that I contemplate. By and by I hear a voice 
 a few hundred yards off, calling — 
 
 " Miss Chatty, it 's time to make the tea ! " 
 The evening was wondrously beautiful. Papa 
 still walked in the back garden, and I sit alone 
 in the little parlour by the open window. I 
 look upon the path which leads to the beach, 
 and fall into a day-dream. My mind recalls — 
 
 " The tender grace of a day that is gone," 
 
 and then I think of one, and of one only. 
 
 Suddenly a voice calls me by name. 
 
 It was not papa, nor Ellice ; I look up hastily, 
 and my heart beats with a wild, extravagant joy. 
 I can hardly believe that he stands before me ; 
 
54 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 but I look again and see that I do not dream. 
 Then I start up, and meet him with sparkling, 
 overjoyed eyes and burning cheeks. 
 
 " I am so glad ! " 
 
 It is all I can say, and hardly take in the 
 meaning of his words for the rapture that fills 
 my breast. 
 
 " So, " he said, with a bright smile, and with 
 the same quiet ease of manner that I could 
 well remember, " I have found our little Grace 
 Darling again at last ! You do not know how 
 often I have wished and tried to come, and 
 have been prevented ; but at length I have been 
 successful, and have found you like some Nereis 
 anion o; the rocks." 
 
 He held my hand in his for some seconds, 
 and looked earnestly on my face. I blushed 
 and turned away. 
 
 " I have been disappointed so many times," 
 he continued, changing the playfulness of his 
 tone to a graver key ; " but a professional man 
 can seldom hope for a holiday in London." 
 
 " London ? " I exclaimed. 
 
BY THE SEA. 55 
 
 " Yes, I came from London to-day." 
 
 " All that way ? " 
 
 " All 'that way," he replied, smiling. 
 
 A warm colour rose to my cheeks. 
 " And the motive that brought me here 
 to-night was to renew, on the part of Mrs. 
 Dunstan and Jeannie, the acquaintance which 
 was begun and ended so abruptly last year. 
 On the part of Mrs. Dunstan and Jeannie and 
 some one else." 
 
 I vaguely comprehended his meaning. 
 
 " You consent to it ; you are not unwilling 
 to renew ■ " 
 
 " Oh no ! " I answered, half joyfully, half shyly ; 
 " I have wished to hear of them, often and 
 often. Mrs. Dunstan, you said?" 
 
 " Yes. Mrs. Dunstan is the elder lady, and 
 the mother of the pretty little girl ! " 
 
 " And the other ? " 
 
 " The other lady, " he continued, carelessly, 
 " is a niece of Mrs. Dunstan's, a West Indian 
 heiress. Mrs. Dunstan is a rich widow lady ; 
 and I, Lindsay Jocelyn, am a poor barrister, and 
 
56 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 the son of one of her oldest friends. This is 
 the entire catalogue. You will love Jeannie 
 very much. She is a sweet child." 
 
 I looked up in surprise. "Love Jeannie?" 
 
 " Ah ! I forgot to tell you that Mrs. Dunstan 
 is coming to spend the autumn months here ; 
 you will see them often." 
 
 I clapped my hands in the fulness and sudden- 
 ness of my joy, and a smile passed over my 
 companion's face at my gleefulness. Just then 
 my father entered from the little garden door, 
 and stood still from utter amazement. 
 
 "Mr. Jocelyn, papa," I exclaimed, blushing 
 at my own agitation. 
 
 " How d' ye do, sir — I 'ni very glad to see 
 you." 
 
 There was something quite courtly in poor 
 papa's bow, to me it was a shadow of other 
 days ; but Lindsay's visit, so unexpected and 
 uncommon an occurrence as it was, flurried him 
 out of all memory and etiquette for the rest of 
 the evening. He sat in a corner, hardly open- 
 ing his lips, save for monosyllables. 
 
BY THE SEA. 57 
 
 " I can hardly believe that I am here again," 
 Lindsay said, as he stood by me at the window. 
 " I am so tired of London and business, but 
 I suppose they are inseparable evils from life. 
 How quiet this place is, and how refreshing ! 
 It is a reward for many hard days' work in a 
 city, I assure you." 
 
 I smiled. 
 
 " You will think me very foolish when I say 
 that this very quiet and solitariness tires me 
 sometimes. I almost envy a life of activity and 
 excitement." 
 
 "Ah, that is because your nature is enthu- 
 siastic; when you are older, and have been in 
 the world and felt its turbulence and restless 
 stir, like me, you will long for repose." 
 
 He had a quiet contemplative way of earnest 
 speaking which affected me irresistibly, and there 
 was a music in his voice which made me far 
 readier to listen than to speak. So I was silent, 
 and he continued: — 
 
 " I daresay you will smile to hear me moralize 
 in this way, but I have always felt a sort of old- 
 
58 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 ness, if I may so express it, — a sort of wearied 
 ennuye sensation which I would fancy any one 
 feeling who had lived twice as long as I had, 
 and lets me hardly believe I am young. I am 
 so tired of the world — so tired of the universal 
 selfishness and universal sin. But one seems 
 quite out of it here. Surely the peacefulness 
 pleases you." 
 
 " Yes, but even here ' 
 
 u Pray go on ; you should speak to me as if 
 I were an old friend." 
 
 " I was going to say," I replied, smiling from 
 very pleasure at his words ; " that even here 
 it is not all tranquillity — there will be some 
 stormy days. I suppose they come to every- 
 
 one." 
 
 He looked at me for a minute and then said 
 in a subdued voice, — 
 
 " I understand your meaning. But there 
 are some sorrows that are not of the world's 
 
 making." 
 
 There was a perfect sympathy between us, 
 Already I felt that I could have opened my 
 
BY THE SEA. 59 
 
 heartful of loneliness and troubles to him, and 
 that he would understand me. Though my 
 pulses beat quickly and rapturously, the first 
 wild trembling and exultation of joy had worn 
 off, and I could answer him with composure, 
 and realize the fulness of my happiness. 
 
 " I am so much alone," I said, sadly. 
 
 " Ay, I should imagine there would be little 
 society here ; a country town is the worst place 
 possible for that ; there are so many cliques, 
 and so little real sociability." 
 
 " Yes ; and unless you are of a certain stand- 
 ing no one will receive you ; there are so many 
 lines of boundary drawn which are never passed, 
 and it is the more astonishing to me that this 
 exclusive spirit is seen so much among the 
 educated classes. I cannot understand it at all." 
 
 " I daresay not ; but they do not consider 
 themselves exclusive, and would be offended to 
 be called so. You are right nevertheless, and 
 any right-minded person must see it in the same 
 light. You will be glad when Jeannie is here." 
 
 " Oh, yes, very glad ; I have no friends." 
 
60 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " And no one can help loving Jeannie — she 
 is so natural, and has so much vivacity with- 
 out affectation or the least self-esteem. What a 
 splendid evening!" continued Lindsay, suddenly 
 changing the subject; "or I should rather say, 
 what a lovely evening ; splendid is not the 
 appropriate name for anything so quiet. Do 
 look at the red light on the sea, Miss Warne." 
 
 "How beautiful!" 
 
 My father rose at my exclamation. 
 
 " I don't like a red sunset," he said, uneasily ; 
 it betokens rain. Dear me, how those horrid 
 gulls scream; I should like to shoot them 
 all." 
 
 We both smiled. 
 
 " I think if the birds had any idea of your 
 murderous intent, Mr. Warne, that they wouldn't 
 trouble you long; certainly, their music is any- 
 thing but pleasant." 
 
 " There is nothing pleasant here," rejoined 
 my father, and seated himself in his corner 
 again with a heavy sigh. 
 
 Lindsay still stood at the window, and with 
 
BY THE SEA. 61 
 
 his arm leaning on the framework looked out 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 Though years have passed since then, and 
 somewhat of the first enthusiasm and eagerness 
 of my nature is subdued, I can still recall the 
 intensity of my feelings as I stood by Lindsay 
 that summer night. Everything — all the indi- 
 vidual existences which affected my life — my 
 father, Jeannie, my loneliness, and sorrows, 
 and endeavours, were forgotten. I had no 
 thought, no memory, no joy, but the blissful 
 consciousness of his presence. No wonder that 
 I could hardly speak, and that my words were 
 forced and unnatural. 
 
 I can remember, too, looking on him and 
 wondering why it was so. Ah ! not even now 
 have I been able to solve the riddle. 
 
 His features seemed very perfect to me, as I 
 saw them in the partial soft light of the twilight, 
 and with such a glow of ardent emotion at my 
 heart. I never saw a face that I admired so 
 much before, and never one that I have looked 
 upon with the same feelings since. And it 
 
62 TIIE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 seemed to me as if every one else must admire 
 him with the same unqualified fulness ! which is 
 a general mistake made by those who have fallen 
 in love. We cannot help thinking that all the 
 world will be of the same opinion, and that the 
 object of our adoration must be universally 
 acknowledged. 
 
 " In sweetnesse of both looks and minde ; 
 Th' eclypse and glorye of his kinde ! " 
 
 I do not think I can give the reader a good 
 idea of Lindsay's face if I try ever so, for, 
 however much we may know of the features, 
 even to exactitude, we come at no nearer 
 approach to an imagination-picture if we have 
 to guess entirely at the expression : so much 
 has expression, and so little has regularity of 
 feature alone to do with the charm of a face 
 we love ! But I was particularly struck that 
 evening by Lindsay's looks — to me so different 
 to anyone's I had ever seen. Not only by the 
 intelligence and contemplativeness of the brow, 
 but also by the brightness of the shining hair 
 that hung over it; not only by the handsome 
 
BY THE SEA. 63 
 
 curve of the mouth, but also with the playfulness 
 of its expression ; and lastly but not least, by the 
 power and gracefulness of his figure. 
 
 "I have looked forward to this evening so 
 much, Chatty — I beg your pardon, but from 
 hearing Jeannie speak of you so often by that 
 name " 
 
 " I do not mind ; every one calls me so." 
 
 " And you will give me leave to do the same?" 
 
 " Oh yes, certainly." 
 
 "Thank you. I do so dislike formalities. I 
 am very pleased to have seen you again,' Chatty ; 
 somehow after that evening's adventure it was 
 difficult to me to fancy that Ingham was a really 
 existing place; it was so much like a dream. 
 It was quite a little romance to me, I assure you. 
 I could not fancy any of our present-day young 
 ladies being so truly heroic as you were." 
 
 « No— no !" I said timidly. 
 
 But indeed I am right. Luckily you have 
 had little experience of fashionable young ladies; I 
 hope you never will, it makes people uncharitable. 
 Well then, speaking from personal experience, shall 
 
64 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 I tell you what I have found them? Don't be 
 shocked : I am not a hard judge." 
 
 I smiled at his humorousness, and he con- 
 tinued: — 
 
 " There is nothing to judge : the spirits are 
 gone and there only remains — lace, ribbons, silk 
 velvet, and mantua-makers' dressings-up. Now, 
 do you think I am severe? I assure you I am 
 far otherwise. I will be so far malicious as to 
 hope that one day you will be enabled to see 
 how truly I have spoken." 
 
 In another half-hour he took his leave, promis- 
 ing me that he would call on me the next day; 
 the day after, he was to return to London. We 
 retired early to rest, but sleep was far from me ; 
 nor did I wish for it. I felt that sleep would 
 bring me no dreams so unutterably joyful as the 
 day-dreams of my own heart ; and, opening the 
 window that I might hear the song of the waves, 
 and see the starlit beautiful heavens, I sat down 
 by it till midnight. Even then I could not sleep, 
 for the manifold pleasant thoughts that hovered 
 around my pillow. 
 
BY THE SEA. 65 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 He was gone. I still stood on the threshold, 
 where a few minutes ago we had stood together, 
 my hand had been taken in his, and the parting 
 word had been spoken. But even those short 
 minutes were gone now ; nothing could bring 
 them back again. Perhaps even their semblance 
 might not return. Who could tell? Perhaps 
 Lindsay Jocelyn and I should never meet again. 
 The chances on both sides were equally balanced, 
 but a feather might turn them. 
 
 He was gone. I was unwilling to leave the 
 hall door. I seemed nearer to him whilst I was 
 where he had last been, and the track that his 
 footsteps had taken was before my eyes. It 
 seemed impossible that it was so — that he had 
 really gone. His voice had so lately lingered 
 
 vol. T. F 
 
66 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 on the air, that I still listened for it. Oh, it 
 seemed impossible that he was gone ! A very 
 heavy sorrow fell over my heart. I felt as if 
 I had not half appreciated the full extent of my 
 happiness when it was yet with me; as if I 
 would have given whole years of loneliness and 
 sorrow for its return, if only for one hour. 
 
 The evening had been unusually fair and 
 lovely. I was glad when clouds overshadowed 
 it, for then it was more in unison with my own 
 feelings. How long I should have stood at the 
 hall-door I know not; I was so unwilling to 
 break the charm that still was on me whilst 
 I remained there — the charm of his presence 
 and voice; but before long I heard a very 
 impatient — 
 
 " It 's time for me to have my arrowroot ; 
 make haste, Chatty." 
 
 And I hastened to make the arrowroot, quickly 
 and carefully, resolving to hide the sadness of 
 my spirit, and not to permit my love for Lindsay 
 to make me forgetful of a daughter's duty. But 
 the arrowroot was not so good to-night. I stirred 
 
BY THE SEA. 67 
 
 it round and round in the cup with a very guilty 
 conscience. My heart had not been in my work, 
 I could not help tacitly admitting; the mixture 
 had not been well adjusted ; there was too much 
 milk, and too little arrowroot ; it had not a jelly- 
 looking consistency about it, and had a watery 
 poorness more like starch. I had a good mind 
 to make some more, but papa was impatient, 
 and the milk would not boil just as soon as I 
 wanted ; besides, there was only sufficient remain- 
 ing for breakfast. There was no help for it; 
 so, with self-humiliation and much abasement 
 of spirit, I put in the nutmeg and sugar, and 
 carried it to my father. 
 
 " I am so glad, Chatty — he went just at the 
 right time . " 
 
 I looked up in amazement. \ 
 
 " How in the right time, papa ? " 
 
 iC Mr. Jocelyn, I mean. Why, if he had stayed 
 any longer, you know, I shouldn't have had my 
 arrowroot." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Fifty reasons. Why, I couldn't ask you to go 
 
 F 2 
 
68 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 out and make it ; only servants ought to do such 
 things, and I 'm sure Ellice would burn the milk ; 
 and besides, I don't like people knowing when I 
 have my supper and what I eat, it's so disagreeable ; 
 not that I think Mr Jocelyn would make remarks, 
 either, he seems so good-natured. I'm so glad 
 he tasted the port; he knew how good it was — 
 of course he is in the habit of drinking wine 
 every day. I wish we had a little more of it, 
 Chatty; we should have had all, if it hadn't 
 been for those rascally " 
 
 He stopped short, as he always did when he 
 saw how sorry I was to hear him speak of what 
 it was much happier for us both to forget; and 
 then continued : — 
 
 " Up to their tricks again ! these Ingham 
 shopkeepers will draw the farthest tooth out of 
 your head. What on earth can they have put in 
 this arrowroot? — arsenic perhaps. I won't take it, 
 I know they spite me ; no, Chatty, I won't have 
 any supper to-night. I couldn't touch the cheese, 
 I 'm so tired of it, and the bread is too new by half. 
 Meat ? I hate cold meat. I will try a little ; but 
 
BY THE SEA. 69 
 
 1 am sure I cannot eat a morsel : I could, perhaps, 
 if I had some cucumber and cream. He tasted 
 the meat, and then exclaimed : — 
 
 " It is not bad mutton ; but he cuts off the fat, 
 and sends poor weight, so we pay dear enough for 
 it. Dear me, what cucumbers we used to have at 
 Arrowmere ! " 
 
 Then he ate a minute in silence, and finally 
 finished by pushing away the plate, with a — 
 
 " Chatty, how on earth came that Mr. Jocelyn 
 to call here ? " 
 
 I looked up in some surprise. 
 
 " Why should he come ; what does he know 
 about us?" 
 
 " I have seen him before, you know, father 
 dear ? " 
 
 " Ah, so you have ; but then it was only for a 
 few minutes." 
 
 (l And then Mrs. Dunstan is coming, and Jeannie. 
 I don't see anything strange that he should 
 call." 
 
 " Well, I suppose it is not. He is a nice young 
 man ; so fine looking and agreeable. Such young 
 
70 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 men can always marry well, if they like. Do 
 you think he is rich ? " 
 
 " Not very ; I should think he is not very rich,'* 
 I said, musingly. 
 
 Papa then rose to go to bed. The words 
 that had just passed between us oppressed my 
 spirits heavily. I could not read even Tennyson 
 to-night ; and closing the book, fell into a reverie. 
 All the rapturous excitement that had raised my 
 spirits since the last two days had passed away ; 
 there was such a wide, wide gulf between Lind- 
 say Jocelyn and myself: oh, why did I love him ? 
 For the first time the thought flashed across my 
 mind — What am I to him? 
 
 And the dreary echo of common-sense and con- 
 science was — Nothing. Oh, unkind common-sense ! 
 oh, most unwelcome conscience ! Why did you 
 not leave me a little longer to the full enjoyment 
 of my romance and of my love? Why did you 
 not pity me, and let me alone a space to dream 
 and be happy? I did not want to awaken yet. 
 
 But it was of no avail to shut my eyes now, 
 for I had removed the mote myself. True that he 
 
BY THE SEA. 71 
 
 had sought to renew the intercourse between us ; 
 true that he had seemed pleased to do so — that 
 his words of greeting had been cordial, his words 
 of parting kind. He had expressed, and earnestly 
 expressed, the pleasure with which he looked 
 forward to meeting me again ; he had seemed to 
 listen earnestly to my words, and to find happiness 
 at my presence; yet for all this I might be 
 cherishing shadows — shadows only. And if it 
 were not so ; if . . . .1 hardly dared dwell 
 on the thought. 
 
 I sat a long time in the still room by myself. 
 It was an inexpressible pleasure to me to be alone, 
 and to think of him. Even though at times the 
 thoughts were sad, I was very unwilling to sur- 
 render my superb air-castle ; and I was unwilling 
 to feel that irrationalism had built it, and visionary 
 expectations guarded it ; yet I would not be brave 
 and let reason and conscience smash it down and 
 demolish it, even though they whispered in my 
 ears, over and over again, " Coward ! Coward ! " 
 
72 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 After this my life brightened. There was 
 always a happiness to look forward to, and a 
 happiness to remember. Jeannie was coming! 
 I should see her often; we should be as 
 sisters. I should no longer be alone. I was 
 very happy in these thoughts, and went through 
 my daily duties with a cheerful heart. 
 
 The hopefulness and sunshine altered my nature. 
 I had had no child's holiday-life of happiness, 
 no childhood even ; childhood and girlhood were 
 alike melancholy, recluse, and self-contained; 
 and this strange and saddened atmosphere hung 
 round my spirits like a heavy shadow. But 
 now I threw it off. I was in love with Life, 
 Nature, and Humanity, and opened a wide 
 
BY THE SEA. 73 
 
 heart to receive all the good gifts which God 
 
 poured therein. 
 
 He came once more ; he came many times. 
 
 I used to put on my prettiest dress, and arrange 
 
 my hair with careful fingers, that I might look 
 
 my best ; and the expectation of his coming 
 
 gave unwonted brightness to my eyes and cheeks. 
 
 At such times, papa would be waiting impatiently 
 
 till my toilette was over ; and if the dress was 
 
 light and tasteful, my hair smooth and eyes 
 
 sparkling, he would fold me in his arms, and 
 
 
 smile and weep alternately. (i Ah ! " he would 
 
 say, sorrowfully, " my poor darling will never 
 
 be the mistress of Arrowmere — never — never ! " 
 
 No one can tell what those visits of Lindsay 
 
 Jocelyn were to me. Not only because his 
 
 presence gave such entire happiness ; but because 
 
 I was shut out from the whole world beside ; 
 
 and he was, as it were, a revelation of it. He 
 
 talked of London — of foreign travel, of books, 
 
 and men, and manners; and he talked not only 
 
 with humour and spirit, but with depth of thought 
 
 and feeling. At least, I thought so, as I used 
 
74 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 to sit in the shadow of, the window listening 
 in silent enhancement to the music of his voice ; 
 loving better to listen than to speak. And he 
 discovered this ; and, so that I did but smile at 
 his playfulness and satire, was content. I never 
 felt ashamed of my ignorance and of my 
 childishness in the world's ways before him. 
 
 Indeed, this very simplicity and unsophisticated 
 character of mine seemed to please him. He 
 never tired of my questions, and never wearied 
 of explanations. He brought me books too — 
 books which had it not been for him I might 
 never have heard of; wild stories of strange 
 adventure, pictures of sea life, travels in far 
 countries ; Edgar Poe, Marry at, St. John, 
 Mayne Reid and many others. Such books 
 were masculine, and unsuited to me; but they 
 were new and exciting, and the charm of his 
 voice and memory hung round them. I liked 
 them, and frankly said so. 
 
 " I am delighted to hear you say so," he said, 
 with a pleased smile ; " and the more so 
 because it bespeaks an originality in your taste 
 
BY THE SEA. 75 
 
 and thinking. Most ladies wouldn't sleep after 
 reading a ghost-story, and are frightened at the 
 sound of a gun; but you have a strength and 
 vigour of mind which is all the more pleasing to 
 find, as it is so rare." 
 
 I shook my head. 
 
 " You would contradict me ? " 
 
 " I think that you give me credit for more 
 than I possess," I answered, hesitatingly. 
 
 " But indeed I do not, and you must retract 
 your words. I never flatter, least of all should 
 I flatter you " 
 
 I interposed again, and blushed. 
 
 " That is not flattering. I only meant to 
 say, that I respect you too much to entertain 
 for one moment a thought of flattery. You are 
 too hard upon me." And there was such an 
 irresistible sweetness both in his voice and 
 smile that I could not but believe what was so 
 pleasant and grateful a belief. 
 
 And sometimes, in the summer twilight, we 
 strolled through the little garden, and walked 
 slowly on the beach ; the waves had receded, 
 
76 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 and the majestic sea was hushed and still as the 
 sky above. How delightful it was to lean upon 
 his strong arm, and listen to his voice, which 
 would sink to a lower and softer key, as if to 
 suit the holiness of the hour ! Our shadows 
 would fall unbroken on the sands ; my eye 
 measured the difference between them. And 
 sometimes the thought would strike me — 
 Alas ! is there not as much difference between 
 us in all things ? Why do I love him ? 
 
 With the autumn came a great disappointment. 
 Mrs. Dunstan's plans were changed ; she had 
 given up the idea of Ingham, after all, and 
 perhaps I should never see Jeannie now. I 
 told my fears to Lindsay, and he re-assured me. 
 
 " Mrs. Dunstan is changeable and Jeannie 
 has a great desire to come to Ingham ; she 
 will not disappoint the poor child twice, and 
 I greatly suspect " 
 
 He broke off abruptly, and then added in a 
 careless tone — 
 
 " Poor Mrs. Dunstan is rather undecided, you 
 know, and that Indian niece of hers manages 
 
BY THE SEA. 77 
 
 to rule her entirely ; and it is not likely — that 
 is, it is improbable — that she should prefer a place 
 so retired as Ingham to a gay trip abroad." 
 
 " They are going abroad, then ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Dunstan only mentioned it as a 
 suggestion of her niece, and I am invited to 
 join the party. " 
 
 " And you will go ? " 
 
 " Nous verrons," he said, indifferently. " It 
 will be our professional vacation then, and Mrs. 
 Dunstan will never forgive me if I don't; and, 
 poor thing, as she is so old and kind a friend, 
 I don't like to disoblige her. But I have no 
 wish to go, and I hope I shall be enabled to get 
 out of it in a creditable way. I am so very sorry 
 that she gave up the idea of Ingham." 
 
 So for this year my hopes were again 
 frustrated, and I heard no more of Mrs. 
 Dunstan's trip, till one day Lindsay came to say 
 that his efforts had been all unavailing, and to 
 bid me good-bye; and though I laughed at the 
 whimsical account he gave of his manoeuvres to 
 escape the honour of chaperonship, and his 
 
78 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 despair at unsuecess, tears were in my eyes, and 
 I felt very sad. 
 
 Then winter came, and I saw him again, but 
 his visits were not what they had been in the 
 summer. He came rarely, and for a shorter 
 time. He spoke of law-courts, and cases, and 
 sessions, and of midnight study after a hard 
 day's work. But for himself he was unchanged, 
 and the visits only became more dear and more 
 looked-for that they were less frequent. 
 
BY THE SEA. 79 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Summek came round again. Lindsay was gone 
 to Newcastle on professional business ; I should 
 not see him for some weeks. To-day was 
 the first of July, and he talked of coming 
 in August. Thirty-one days, perhaps five 
 weeks, to wait ! It was a long time. Yet the 
 beautiful blue sky, and the summer freshness and 
 gloriousness of all around, conspired to make me 
 sanguine; and perhaps this autumn would bring 
 Jeannie to my heart. The question stood, as 
 it had stood the year before ; no definite 
 arrangements had been made, and Lindsay 
 invariably stopped my fears by a decided — 
 
 " Trust my word for it — Mrs. Dunstan will 
 come ; she will occasion an excitement with 
 all her wealth, and what more delightful ? In 
 
80 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 any other place the case is different. Le jeu 
 n'en vant pas la chandelle. She sinks into 
 insignificance in the more splendid galaxy round 
 her. And, as Milton says, ( Better to reign, &c.' 
 Pray excuse my quotation ; but, e Aut Caesar 
 aut nullus,' you know. She will come." 
 
 And his impressive " She will come " encouraged 
 me. One day my father took a fancy into* his 
 head that if Ellice and I could pickle some 
 cherries as they used to be pickled at Arrowmere, 
 he really should be able to enjoy a cold dinner. 
 But the cherries must be of a particular kind, 
 and he was sure I could not get them anywhere 
 but at Wallis's Nursery Garden ; so, as the place 
 was at Helmsley-End, through the town of 
 Ingham, I set off one morning early, whilst it 
 was yet cool. Helmsley-End was the prettiest 
 part of Ingham-Helmsley. White villas and 
 oentlemen's houses, surrounded with shrubberies 
 and tasteful grounds, were dotted here and there ; 
 and a picturesque descent led to the beach. 
 Suddenly, as I walk along, I hear my own 
 name called. 
 
BY THE SEA. 81 
 
 " Chatty, Chatty dear, it 's I." 
 
 The warm, joyful colour mounts to my cheek, 
 and I turn round. 
 
 An arm is clasped round my neck, and a 
 bright, happy face is close to mine. Yes, I have 
 found her at last ; the same wild-rose cheeks, 
 arch lips, and shining chestnut hair. The Jeannie 
 of my remembrance and anticipation ; a little 
 altered, perhaps — less childlike, but almost a 
 child still; with a child's frankness in her eyes, 
 and a child's purity on her brow. I could not 
 speak at first, for pleasure and bewilderment. 
 
 " It 's I, Jeannie Dunstan ; don't you know 
 me, Chatty dear ; oh, I 'm so glad ! " 
 
 She stood -holding me by the hands whilst 
 she kissed me over and over again. How fair 
 and gentle she was ! The friend and sister of 
 whom I had dreamed ; who could help loving 
 her ? But I could not utter my grateful 
 thoughts ; I could only say — 
 
 "Dear Jeannie! Dear, dear Jeannie!" 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad ! " she ran on, gaily and 
 eagerly, " so glad to be here at last. I was 
 
 vol. i. a 
 
82 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 coming to find you out to-day. Did you know 
 we were coming ? No ? Ah, Lindsay kept the 
 secret ; I wanted to surprise you. We only 
 came yesterday, and we are going to stay till 
 October ; isn't that a long time ? and you will 
 come and see me often, won't you ? We can 
 have such nice walks by the beach, and I shall 
 be so glad to get away from Angelica. I ought 
 not to say so, but I cannot help it. That is the 
 young lady who was with us that night ; do you 
 remember her ? " 
 "Yes, perfectly." 
 
 " She is an orphan, and lives with us ; she 
 
 is very rich, but I don't like rich people; 1 
 
 mean not often. I like you, whatever you are." 
 
 " We are poor," I said, somewhat sadly, for 
 
 I thought of poor papa's privations. 
 
 Jeannie glanced at my simple cotton dress, 
 and straw -bonnet with its well-worn ribbon; 
 and I think she understood the tone of my voice, 
 for she kissed me warmly, and said — 
 
 " Never mind ; rich people are not happier 
 than any others. So mamma says." 
 
BY THE SEA. 83 
 
 "Have you no sisters?" I asked, jealously. 
 
 "No. Have you?" 
 
 « No." 
 
 " And who lives with you ? " 
 
 "No one but papa and Ellice." 
 
 For a minute she paused in wondering silence, 
 and then, changing the subject, pointed to a 
 large white gate near. 
 
 " That is where we live ; I was walking in 
 the shrubberies and saw you pass — but come 
 in ; you must come in and see mamma." 
 
 But in spite of her entreaties I would not 
 go to her home that day. Reader, pardon the 
 vanity, in consideration of the candour with which 
 I confess it; I was unwilling to appear before 
 the rich, fashionable Mrs. Dunstan and the 
 Indian heiress in my humble cotton and faded 
 ribbon. So with many kisses we parted, and 
 I hastened home to recount the morning's adven- 
 ture. 
 
 Thank God, oh, thank God for this; I have 
 found her again ! 
 
 G 2 
 
84 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Mrs. Dijnstan sat enthroned in the state of 
 blue satin and bland condescension as I entered 
 her showy and smart drawing-room ; Angelica 
 lounged on a sofa, bedecked and glittering with 
 untasteful jewellery, and between both ladies sat 
 the Reverend Decimus Dowley, round-faced, 
 twinkling-eyed, gay little Mr. Decimus Dowley, 
 the rector of St. Mary's-on-the-Mere. 
 
 " Ah, there 's Miss — what 's - her - name ? — 
 whom Jeannie has taken such a fancy to. How 
 d'ye do, my love?" 
 
 She extended her hand to me with a languid 
 air, as if it were a great deal too much trouble 
 to her, and added in an affected voice — 
 
BY THE SEA. 85 
 
 "Pray sit down, miss — excuse me, I can't 
 remember your name — Jeannie, do tell me." 
 
 Jeannie coloured with vexation, and said 
 hastily — 
 
 €( I 've told you so often, mamma dear, that to 
 punish you I won't tell you again." 
 
 " Now how provoking ! " said Mrs. Dunstan, 
 in an aggrieved voice, " really, Jeannie, you 're 
 too bad. And I am quite dying to know." 
 
 All this time Angelica had stared at me with 
 an inexpressible degree of curiousness and assur- 
 ance. Her only salutation was a slight bow, 
 and an unpleasant — 
 
 " Good-morning." 
 
 Then she stared again, as much as to say — 
 " Your bonnet cost about ten shillings, or, 
 perhaps, eight - and - sixpence when new ; the 
 straw is middling, but the shape is last year's, 
 and the ribbon was certainly never put on by 
 a milliner; the dress is a tolerable quality, but 
 do you know, young lady, that it's only muslins 
 that are worn in the morning ; bareges are by 
 no means a propos ; and your mantle is decidedly 
 
86 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 shabby. You must be very poor, and yet you 
 don't look common, either. Poor and genteel, I 
 suppose; how pitiable! You certainly never saw 
 life or fashion, or you wouldn't wear your hair 
 in that childish way. As to your look, I 'm 
 not yet decided, but I don't quite like you 
 altogether." 
 
 Such was my reception by the two ladies ; 
 but, as to the Rev. Decimus Dowley, he did 
 not honour me by a single word or nod of 
 recognition. The fact was this — papa was by no 
 means a favourite with the clergy at Ingham ; 
 he did not like them, and they knew it. But 
 taken altogether they were not a pleasant or 
 estimable class, and I do not wonder at poor 
 papa's feelings with regard to them. The High 
 Church preachers w r ere pompous, bigoted, and 
 uncharitable; the Low Church, vulgar, decla- 
 matory, and inordinately self-conceited; and both 
 parties were somewhat unfriendly and jealous to 
 each other : now, papa did not agree with 
 either ; he did not approve of fasting in Lent, 
 and he read (if he were well enough to read 
 
BY THE SEA. 87 
 
 at all) Sir Walter Scott on a Sunday, and did 
 and said a good many things which, though 
 really harmless, offended them greatly. So the 
 Rev. Rector of St, Mary's -on -the -Mere visited 
 the sins of the fathers upon the children; never 
 asked me to his annual child's festival, though 
 all the other children in Ingham-Helmsley were 
 there, and when he saw me enter, shy, blush- 
 ing, and with downcast eyes, at rich Mrs. 
 Dunstan's, gave me no smile or kindly look. 
 
 " Warne ; do you know anything of any 
 Warnes here ? " said Mrs. Dunstan to the 
 rector in an undertone of voice, but which was 
 perfectly audible. 
 
 " Mr. Inglis Warne, the young lady's father, 
 oh yes." 
 
 Here Jeannie, with the quick intuition of a 
 delicate mind, drew me to the farther end of 
 the room, under pretext of showing me some 
 fanciful shells of her own finding, but I could 
 still hear something of the dialogue going on. 
 
 "Poor?" asked Mrs. Duustan, with intense 
 curiosity. 
 
88 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 * Very." 
 
 Here Mrs. Dunstan raised her hands and eyes, 
 as some susceptible people do when particularly 
 called on to exercise their tender feelings, and 
 Mr. Dowley continued — 
 
 (i Nice little property in Essex — married an 
 heiress — highly extravagant — wife's guardian 
 cheated — ruined in no time." 
 
 Mrs. Dunstan glanced at me, then wiped her 
 eyes with a lace handkerchief, and said — 
 
 " The folly of some people is quite pitiable." 
 
 At which the Rev. Mr. Dowley looked as if 
 he thought Mrs. Dunstan was very wise. 
 
 a I dare say you will wonder how she comes 
 to be here to-day, but we know her only from 
 a little adventure that happened two years ago 
 to us when we were staying at — in this town 
 I mean;" and then Mrs. Dunstan gave a little 
 explanatory account of our first meeting, and 
 concluded with — " I wish Jeannie had not taken 
 such a fancy to her, as from her station and 
 education she is so unfitted to be her com- 
 panion ; but it can't be helped, and Jeannie 
 
BY THE SEA. 89 
 
 never imbibes bad habits or vulgarities, that 's 
 one comfort." 
 
 " What would Lindsay say if he heard you?" 
 said Angelica, sarcastically ; " he has taken 
 quite a fancy to this child of nature, Mr. 
 Dowley, and if I want to get him into a good 
 humour I always begin to sound her praises." 
 
 " It isn't so very often that Lindsay is out 
 of temper with you," said Mrs. Dunstan, in 
 a reproachful voice, which seemed to please 
 Angelica very much. Soon the conversation 
 turned on the topic of Mr. Stirling's marriage; 
 Jeannie and I sat quietly at the open window 
 at the other end of the room, amusing our- 
 selves with pictures, and the conversation went 
 on without restraint. 
 
 "To tell you the truth, Mr. Dowley," said 
 Mrs. Dunstan, energetically, " when I first heard 
 of it, I was quite humiliated; such an outrage 
 on all dignity and on all high ranks of society. 
 Sir, it's frightful!" 
 
 " Frightful ! " echoed Angelica. 
 
 "Yes, so it is," answered Mr. Dowley; "so 
 
90 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 it is; and actually, madam — actually that very 
 man has a brother a clergyman of the Church 
 of England." 
 
 " What must his feelings have been, poor 
 man ! " ejaculated Mrs. Dunstan, in a sort of 
 sobbing manner. 
 
 " It would have been the death of me, I 'm 
 sure," said the rector, putting on somewhat of 
 his pulpit solemnity. " The Lord be thanked 
 that it was not." 
 
 "And to think— to think," added Mrs. Dun- 
 stan, with renewed vehemence, " that I was 
 staying in the house of that very man, as a 
 visitor — I, Mr. Jocelyn, who is nephew to a 
 judge, and Angelica, my niece; to think that 
 we should have been staying in his house only a 
 few months before ; the deceitful, heartless man ! " 
 
 i( The mystery to me is, " said Angelica, " that 
 people who do such horrid things can hold up 
 their heads afterwards : I 'm sure I should die 
 at once." 
 
 Mr. Dowley said that he wished the world had 
 only a particle of such fine feelings as Miss 
 
BY THE SEA. 91 
 
 Laurison possessed ; after which flattering speech 
 he took his leave. 
 
 " A delightful man ! " exclaimed Mrs. Dunstan. 
 
 " So funny, so amusing," joined in Angelica. 
 
 " And so beautifully pious," said the first. 
 
 " Not a bit like a clergyman," added the other. 
 
 After this, both the ladies went up-stairs to 
 prepare for the morning drive ; not before Mrs. 
 Dunstan had told Jeannie, in a loud whisper, that 
 she might ask me to dinner, if she liked, only not 
 to get too intimate. We were very happy to- 
 gether ; of all the frivolity, the worldliness, the 
 vanity and pride, I could see in Mrs. Dunstan and 
 Ano-elica, there was not a trace in her. Though 
 she was so superior to me in wealth, position, 
 education and prospects, there was not a shade 
 of arrogance or of that spirit of selfishness which 
 spoiled children so often have. She was amiable, 
 loving, and yielded to my wishes whenever I 
 expressed any, however much they might differ 
 from her own; and, in spite of the differences 
 between us, we were sisters at once. Oh, how 
 happy this new love made me! There was always 
 
92 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 something to look forward to, something to think 
 of, something to hold in my own heart, and of 
 which I felt none could rob me. My visits to 
 Mrs. Dunstan were not all happiness; I confess 
 they were not. I dreaded Angelica's inconside- 
 rate and rude questions, and I shrank from Mrs. 
 Dunstan's affected pity and sentimentality over my 
 lonely lot; but once with Jeannie alone, and 
 there was no cloud over our sky. 
 
 " I wish Angelica had never come from India, " 
 she said to me one day, very earnestly. 
 
 " Why so ; she is very kind to you ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ! of course she would be kind to me, 
 as she lives with mamma, but I don't really think 
 she likes me ; and I can't bear to hear her say such 
 unfeeling things. What business has she to 
 question you as she does ? If Lindsay were but 
 here ! — she wouldn't before him, I know ; and, 
 Chatty, she used to get so angry last year when 
 he talked about you; and he used to talk all 
 the more for that." 
 
 The warm colour deepened on my cheek, and 
 my heart beat quickly , at Jeannie's word ; not so 
 
BY THE SEA. 93 
 
 much at the thought of Angelica's unpleasantness as 
 at the mention of Lindsay's remembrance of me. 
 
 " She would do anything to please Lindsay, " 
 continued Jeannie, indignantly, " she is so fond 
 of him ; but I don't think he can like her, dis- 
 agreeable, and proud, and passionate as she is ; he 
 used to talk a great deal to her, but teased her 
 too, sometimes ; and if he cared about her much 
 he wouldn't have done that. At least, I should 
 think not." 
 
 I smiled at Jeannie's logic, and she continued — 
 " Oh, how I hope he will come in September ! " 
 " Do you expect him ? " 
 
 " Yes, mamma does, to stay with us ; and some 
 others are coming too. I long for the time, and 
 yet I shall be sorry." 
 "Sorry?", 
 
 She put her arms around me lovingly, and 
 kissed my forehead. 
 
 " I don't wish the time to come for us to go 
 away. " 
 
 " Will you go, then ? " I exclaimed, aghast at 
 the very idea. 
 
94 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " Yes, I think we shall, in October ; at least, I 
 am sure we shall. " 
 
 " And then I ' shall not see you again till 
 another summer ? " 
 
 ee No," Jeannie answered, gravely. 
 
 We both sat in sad silence for some minutes. 
 All the long dreary winter months, the mono- 
 tonous round of daily life and daily trials came 
 in perspective before my mind ; and the distant 
 cloud took away, for the time, somewhat of the 
 present sunlight and joy fulness. 
 
 " I wish we were not going," Jeannie said, 
 sorrowfully. " I shall be shut up with a French 
 governess all day long in London, or sent to a 
 school abroad, where I shall have lessons to learn 
 from morning till night, and no one I know to 
 speak to ; of course Angelica likes being in Lon- 
 don in the whiter ; for she and mamma go to 
 parties, and theatres, and operas every night, all 
 the spring — the " season " they call it ; but I 
 don't like my " season " at all. It 's all German 
 grammars, and French exercises, and sharps and 
 flats." 
 
BY THE SEA. 95 
 
 I thought Jeannie would like my " season " still 
 less, but said nothing. I had a sort of pride 
 within me that always made me reserved as to 
 my own privations and the res angustce at home. 
 Less with Jeannie than any one was I so con- 
 stantly silent ; but Jeannie knew enough : she 
 knew how dear to me her sisterly love was, 
 and the consciousness influenced her to be doubly 
 tender and doubly considerate. 
 
 " Never mind, Chatty, the winter will soon go," 
 she said, with a glowing tear-wet face ; " and I 
 will love you all the more when I am away." 
 
 My intercourse with the Dunstans was not 
 without its beneficial effects on poor papa. It 
 was something to talk about, to ask about, and 
 to think of; one visit of mine sufficed for inter- 
 esting matter of conversation for days. There was, 
 first of all, to hear how Mrs. Dunstan's dinner, 
 tea, or lunch was served, and all the dishes of 
 which I had to describe minutely; then there 
 was to hear what Mrs. Dunstan had said, what 
 visitors I had seen, and her opinions on the Ingham- 
 Helmslionians, particularly the clergymen — for 
 
96 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 papa was ever most curious to hear of those for 
 whom he felt a shade of unfriendliness. So I 
 always felt that in going to see them, though I 
 left him for a time, I benefited him in the long 
 run, and we were quite a lively party at my return. 
 But the greatest liveliness I had ever seen was 
 one evening when I returned with the startling 
 intelligence that Mrs. Dunstan liked Mr. Decimus 
 Dowley better even than Mr. Vasey, who kept 
 a carriage, and Mr Newton, who was nephew to 
 a Bishop ; and that Mrs. Dunstan always went 
 regularly to St. Mary's-on-the-Mere, and had put 
 her name first on his subscription list for furnish- 
 ing fifty ragged girls with a Bible, and fifty 
 ragged boys with whitey-brown shirts ! 
 
BY THE SEA. 97 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Papa said well, I don't think I ought to 
 
 betray domestic secrets, but Ellice thought 
 master ought to know better, and that he wasn't 
 a bit religious. Of course she only whispered 
 this to me in private with a smile; still, what 
 papa said isn't worth repeating : all I will say is, 
 that he was quite indignant with Mrs. Dunstan. 
 
 "What can she be thinking about!" he ex- 
 claimed vigorously, "to sit and hear a man like 
 that, who rolls his eyes, turns his mouth topsy- 
 turvy, and lengthens his words out like thunders 
 in the distance. Chatty, I know that hearing 
 him three Sundays running had a bad effect on 
 me; it helped to bring on this nervousness." 
 
 Papa was continually finding different causes 
 to which he attributed his maladies, but I do 
 vol. 1. H 
 
98 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 think in this case he was unjust ; the sermons 
 of the Rev. Rector of St. Mary's could not have 
 hurt his nervous or susceptible organs much, 
 for, as long as I can remember, whenever papa 
 did go to church he invariably dozed when 
 the prayers were over. He couldn't help it, 
 I dare say, but I mildly suggested that I thought 
 he would sleep more comfortably at home ; and 
 so, of late years, even before his paralytic attack, 
 his attendance at church had been rare. 
 
 "Mr. Yasey is drony enough, to be sure, and 
 Mr. Newton's broad Scotch affectation is insuf- 
 ferable, but Mr. Dowley — oh dear ! if we had 
 but a respectable preacher ; it would be the 
 making of me." 
 
 " I should not mind the preaching so much," 
 my father continued, "if we had but a man 
 whose character was within a little what it 
 ought to be; but to be preached to by such 
 
 men as Mr. pshaw ! it makes me out of 
 
 patience: and a good, sensible, humble man to 
 talk to, I tell you, it would do me a world of 
 good. I don't want any of the now-a-day 
 
BY THE SEA. 99 
 
 clergymen, who will leave one of their trashy- 
 tracts, and be too proud to shake hands with 
 you, but one who would really be friendly and 
 sociable. I believe if I had a little society I 
 should get better." 
 
 When papa was in a discontented strain it 
 was best to let him go on and have all his 
 grumble out ; it refreshed him, so I said nothing. 
 
 " There is no one here to speak to," he 
 added ; " people with money won't look at us, 
 because we are poor, and people without money 
 make it up in pride. What a thing it is to be 
 poor ! — the world can forgive anything but that." 
 
 " It didn't forgive Mr. Stirling," I said, 
 smilingly. 
 
 " Ah, if every one else were but like him ! 
 He wouldn't despise us because we are poor, 
 Chatty ; I knew him some years ago. I 
 wonder v 
 
 " Knew Mr. Stirling, father ? I never heard 
 you say so before." 
 
 A very grave, anxious look passed over papa's 
 face, and when he spoke his voice was troubled ; 
 
 h 2 
 
100 BY THE SEA. 
 
 it always was when he recalled the far-off time, 
 the time of his happiness and prosperity and 
 youth. 
 
 "Yes, I saw him once or twice at at, I 
 
 forget where; but it's a long time ago — a long 
 time ago — he was not above twenty then ; I 
 wonder whether he would know me now ! " 
 
 " Would you like to see him, papa dear ? " 
 
 " If we were differently placed. But to ask 
 any one like him to a place like this ! If we 
 kept two servants, and had a new carpet in the 
 parlour, it would not matter so much." 
 
 "I should not think Mr. Stirling would think 
 less of us for that," I said, thoughtfully. " I wish 
 that he knew you were here, papa ; I know you 
 would like to see him." 
 
 Papa sighed deeply. 
 
 " If we were a little better off, Chatty, I 
 should, but now " 
 
 I said no more at the time, but turned the 
 subject over in my head, as I sat busily employed 
 on my Saturday's household mending and darning. 
 I wished so much that Mr. Stirling could come 
 
BY THE SEA. 101 
 
 and see papa ; he sadly needed cheerful, intelligent 
 society, and at present he had none. Ellice and 
 I never left him for a moment, and did our best 
 to cheer his mind and lighten his heart; still, 
 a change, such as Mr. Stirling's intercourse 
 would be, I felt convinced would bring inestimable 
 benefit. Mr. Bean often called in, and his visits 
 for the time were of good effect ; but papa looked 
 upon them as professional. He knew that the 
 kind doctor tried his utmost to amuse, entertain, 
 and soothe him ; but, except as his Ingham life 
 was concerned, they were total strangers. There 
 was no link connecting Mr. Bean to the past 
 (for however sad the past may have been, the 
 heart will cling to it when little is left), and 
 though he amused him with stories, and gossip, 
 and philosophical discourse, a word — a recollec- 
 tion — a rumour of Essex, the beloved Essex of 
 youth, wealth, and love, would have been to 
 him worth them all. It was otherwise with 
 Mr. Stirling; papa had had little intercourse 
 with him, but it had taken place in the palmy 
 days, the " olim " of fortune and friends. Mr. 
 
102 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Stirling would not address him and regard him 
 as poor, paralytic, nervous, bankrupt Mr. Warne, 
 of out-of-the-way, bleak, cheap-living Ingham., 
 but as the Inglis Warne, Esq., of Arrowmere, 
 and parks, and riches, and plenty, the owner of 
 estates, and the husband of a lord's daughter. 
 
 Going back to old memories like this oppressed 
 my heart with a gloomy sadness ; and I put 
 the thoughts away, and thanked Heaven, with 
 glad and rejoicing spirits, for the new blessing 
 that had fallen in my path. Dear, dear Jeannie ; 
 it always made me happy to think of you ! 
 
 I felt a strange, yearning, wistful sensation 
 the next time I passed Mr. Stirling's house; I 
 longed to enter and tell him that his entertainer 
 of former days was in poverty, affliction, and 
 despondency; to ask him to go to him for the sake 
 of those former days and remembrances. But 
 it was impossible, and so I lingered and passed on. 
 
 " Chatty," said Angelica to me one day, " will 
 you be so obliging as to favour me with your 
 name in full length? it is so excessively curious, 
 and I always forget it." 
 
BY THE SEA. 103 
 
 I think it must have been the fiftieth time 
 Angelica had asked me my name; however, I 
 answered patiently — " Charlton Warne." 
 
 "Ah, Charlton Warne, that's it! I thought 
 it was Warner, or Warren, or Warring, or 
 something of the sort ; and pray who gave you 
 that absurd name, my dear ? " 
 
 " Charlton was mamma's name," I replied, 
 timidly. 
 
 Mrs. Dunstan looked astonished, and half 
 rose from her easy chair. 
 
 " And was your mamma related to the Charl- 
 tons of Haverwick, do you know?" 
 
 " Mamma was their cousin." 
 
 "Dear me, how very curious!" 
 
 Then she said in a low voice, to Angelica — 
 
 " One of the first families in the county. How 
 queer ! I can't make it out." 
 
 They had a further discussion about it, when 
 I chatted with Jeannie at the farther end of the 
 room; and I heard Angelica exclaim — 
 
 " Of course it 's something of that sort, or why 
 don't the rest of the family notice them?" 
 
104 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 And Mrs. Dunstan added — 
 
 "It would be satisfactory to know. I wish 
 Jeannie had never been allowed to know her, 
 some people are so queer." 
 
 "Mr. Dowley said something about a dis- 
 honest steward " 
 
 "Ah, I forgot! but you know, my love, that 
 Mr. Dowley is a clergyman, and that clergymen 
 make the best of everything." 
 
 " And I dare say he goes by hearsay," Angelica 
 replied, with a yawn; "how should people here 
 know anything about Mr. Warne or Mr. 
 Warne's doings?" 
 
 "After all," Mrs. Dunstan interrupted, con- 
 solingly, " it 's a comfort to think they have been 
 well off once ; and Chatty isn't so much amiss." 
 
 All the pride of my nature — the renowned 
 Charlton pride — rose within me as I listened, or 
 rather as I heard the conversation which was 
 carried on in the front room. I felt as if I 
 could never come to the house again — as if it 
 vere impossible to me ever to meet Mrs. 
 Dunstan and Angelica with kindness and un- 
 
BY THE SEA. 105 
 
 meaning courtesy. The hot blood rushed to my 
 temples, the bitter, bitter tears filled my eyes, 
 and there was an angry, quick beating at my 
 heart. Bat I subdued it; for the love of Jeannie 
 I subdued it. Thank God that I was enabled to 
 do so! 
 
 One day Jeannie asked me very gravely to 
 let her visit my father and my home ; she wished 
 so much, she said, to see the spot where she had 
 first met Chatty, and to be enabled to think of 
 me as at the White House; she wished to 
 associate round her recollection of her friend 
 all the atmosphere of home, daily life, daily sur- 
 roundings, and — for I loved Jeannie too much to 
 be proud with her — I consented. With all the 
 simplicity of her nature, there was a refinement 
 of feeling, and a delicacy of intuition, that I 
 never saw in any one before; and with this 
 simplicity and refinement was a naive freshness 
 and frankness that was perfectly bewitching to 
 me — poor, lonely, friendless as I was, and to 
 whom no one had ever appealed before in love, 
 and trust, and unbounded candour of affection. 
 
106 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 What a happy afternoon we spent together! 
 Papa was somewhat upset, and half smiled and 
 half cried all the time to see my eyes and 
 cheeks bright with pleasure, but there was 
 no other drawback. I quite forgot the grand 
 Helmsley-End Hall, Mrs. Dunstan, and Angelica 
 altogether, and led Jeannie all over the house. 
 And she did not seem surprised at the poverty 
 and simplicity of everything. Then I told her 
 for the first time (for this visit of Jeannie's 
 seemed a new bond of love and sisterhood) the 
 daily occupations, housekeeping duties, economical 
 ways, and all the various et cetera of my humble 
 at-home life. For awhile Jeannie listened with 
 wondering eyes, and interrupted me ever and 
 anon by exclamations of surprise, but as I went 
 on, and she comprehended in full the privations 
 and trials to which I was subject, over her bright 
 face fell a shadow of deep thought and sorrow, 
 and she spoke no more. 
 
 When she was gone, I returned to the little 
 parlour with a heart-full of quiet happiness, and, 
 seating myself by papa, said gaily — 
 
BY THE SEA. 107 
 
 " Have I not done the honours well, father 
 dear?" 
 
 But papa did not speak, and when I looked up 
 I saw that he was weeping bitterly. 
 
 " Oh, papa, papa, don't cry, what is it ? " I ex- 
 claimed, kissing his forehead over and over again. 
 
 " Do tell me, papa dear ? " 
 
 " Chatty," he broke forth, in passionate heart- 
 breaking tones, " Oh, Chatty, my poor little girl, 
 my darling, it breaks my heart to think of the 
 hard, hard lot to which I have brought you. 
 To think that my Chatty — my only one, my 
 Helen's baby — should come to this ! to be poor 
 and pinched, and to waste her childhood, when 
 labourers' children can play and be happy; to 
 think that your young health and hopefulness 
 should be destroyed in waiting on me, wretched, 
 discontented, miserable that I am — oh! I cannot 
 bear it. What have I done, that my innocent 
 child should suffer ? Heaven help me, if " 
 
 I felt a thick, sobbing sensation at my throat, 
 as if I could not utter a word ; and my eyes were 
 blinded with burning tears, but I must be firm; 
 
108 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Mr. Bean told me I must be firm, and I made a 
 desperate effort, and said calmly — 
 
 "I am happy enough, papa; what have I to 
 wish for ? " 
 
 " God bless you, my dear, dear child ; my poor 
 patient, good little Chatty. Oh, my God, have 
 
 pity!" 
 
 Again I felt as if I were choking, but strong 
 fear and stronger love controlled me. After 
 much persuasion and coaxing he was gradually 
 pacified, and by leading him on to other topics, 
 the agitation entirely subsided. 
 
 Father in Heaven, aid me, aid me to do my 
 duty, to be patient, watchful and long-suffering, 
 even as Thou, O Father, never growest weary of 
 Thy care for us ! 
 
BY THE SEA. 109 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 " Perhaps you remember Lindsay — Mr. Jocelyn — 
 Miss Warne ? " 
 
 I started involuntarily at Mrs. Dunstan's ques- 
 tion ; and blushed deeply. 
 
 " Oh yes, I have seen him ." 
 
 " Why, dear mamma, " interposed Jeannie, smil- 
 ing, « don't you remember Lindsay telling us last 
 summer that he had been down to Ingham and 
 had seen Chatty ? " 
 
 " Ah, very likely I did, but my memory is so 
 bad about those things; and what time of the 
 year was it, my love ? " 
 
 This question was addressed to me ; but An^e- 
 lica's eyes were flashing on me, and provoked me 
 to composure. I therefore answered coolly— 
 
 " Mr. Jocelyn came many times." 
 
110 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Mrs. Dunstan looked puzzled, and turned to 
 Angelica ; a mutual expression of " What does it 
 mean ? " passed from one to the other, and then 
 they both fixed their eyes on me ; Mrs. Dunstan's 
 inquisitively, Angelica's with searching scrutiny. 
 But I was determined they should read nothing, 
 and said, carelessly: 
 
 " I think Mr. Jocelyn likes Ingham in summer 
 time." 
 
 After that day the subject was never resumed. 
 I avoided it studiously, and Mrs Dunstan blushed 
 and Angelica curled her lip when Lindsay's 
 name was mentioned in conjunction with Ingham. 
 But I felt that from this might be dated a 
 rivalry between Angelica and myself; antipathy, 
 there had always been on her part ; now there was 
 more, there was positive aversion. 
 
 And, strange to say, from that day there was 
 no more surmising as to the period of Lindsay's 
 visit at Helmsley-End Hall. What had formerly 
 been such a topic of anticipation and discussion 
 was never now recurred to, and there was some 
 talk of leaving Ingham in September. Why was 
 
BY THE SEA. HI 
 
 this? It perplexed me deeply. Angelica ruled 
 Mrs. Dunstan, and Angelica was jealous: perhaps 
 so. Might not this account . ... Yet I 
 will not be uncharitable. 
 
 But why had not Lindsay come ? Oh, why had 
 he not come ? My heart grew sad for longing, 
 and my cheek pale from thought and love of 
 him. Lindsay, Lindsay, is all this hope, and love, 
 and yearning for thee in vain ? 
 
 At length the month of August drew to a close; 
 and one day, whilst I was at Mrs. Dunstan's, a 
 letter came from Lindsay ; she read it hastily, and 
 then said, with a peculiar emphasis — 
 
 "I thought so; Lindsay is not coming to 
 Ingham this autumn, and has agreed to join a 
 party to the Lakes. He would be so pleased if 
 we could go also." 
 
 She handed the letter to Angelica, whose brow 
 contracted as she read. 
 
 " Eh bien ; qu'en pensez vous, ma chere ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dunstan and Angelica often had little 
 private conversations in French ; they knew that 
 I did not understand the language. 
 
112 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " Qu'en pensez-vous ? " said the elder lady, 
 repeating the question* 
 
 Angelica threw the letter on the table, and 
 curled her lip. 
 
 " Je ne resterai pas ici, et je n'y vais pas," she 
 said, in a voice of strong resolution. 
 
 "Maisoualler?" 
 
 " Ou vous voudrez." 
 
 " Ce m'est egal." 
 
 " Et a moi aussi." 
 
 Angelica moved away with impatience, and 
 poor Mrs. Dunstan continued watching her un- 
 easily. Just then Jeannie entered; the letter was 
 hastily put aside. 
 
 " A disappointment for you, my love ; Lindsay 
 cannot come ; that is, you know, we are going away." 
 
 " Oh, not yet, mamma." 
 
 " Yes, my dear ; Angelica's — I mean my wishes 
 must be considered." 
 
 " But, mamma dear, why cannot Lindsay come ? " 
 
 " Why, that is his own affair ; he has no shooting 
 here, you know, and I think he is going to the Lakes." 
 
 " But he won't have shooting there." 
 
BY THE SEA. 113 
 
 " Well, at any rate he doesn't have it here, and 
 besides, my dear, we are going away." 
 
 " But I thought that if Lindsay came you were 
 not going away yet." 
 
 Mrs. Dunstan looked slightly confused. 
 
 " It can't be helped, Jeannie, " she said, petu- 
 lantly ; " why make such a fuss about it ? It is 
 very unamiable when I arrange a plan to be so 
 discontented with it." 
 
 Tears came into Jeannie's eyes, and she said 
 no more. I was sorely puzzled. Some under- 
 hand work had evidently been done. One thing 
 was clear ; Lindsay's visit to the Lakes was only 
 a mere idea which Mrs. Dunstan had taken posses- 
 sion of, for her own purpose, and that Angelica 
 was the mover of it all. Anything to keep 
 Lindsay away from Ingham ; this was the one end 
 and aim of the whole affair; and so far it had 
 succeeded. Oh, when should I see him again ! 
 
 " Then you won't forget me, Jeannie ? " 
 " Never ; if we are away twenty years instead 
 of one, I promise you." 
 
 VOL. I. i 
 
114 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 It was a mild, damp day in autumn ; Mrs. 
 Dunstan and Angelica were paying farewell 
 visits in Ingham ; Jeannie and I sat alone 
 together, and with the confiding hope of chil- 
 dren, as we were, looked into the future life, 
 and drew a fair and perfect picture therein. 
 
 " The time will soon go, dear," she continued, 
 hopefully, " and then, when we come here next 
 year, I can teach you French, and German, 
 and drawing ; won't that be nice ? We can have 
 the little breakfast -room to ourselves, and I 
 know you will get on ten times faster at them 
 than I. Oh, Chatty, how I long for the time!" 
 
 "And if Mrs. Dunstan will not come?" 
 
 " Yes, she will — I know she will ; because she 
 has spoken for the house again. It will all be 
 right; I know it will all be right, dear, if we 
 have patience to wait." 
 
 And then she put her arms round me, and 
 called me her sister — her own dear sister. 
 
 Slowly, very slowly, I returned from my 
 farewell visit to Mrs. Dunstan's; I could hardly 
 realize that I had parted from Jeannie ; that so 
 
BY THE SEA. 115 
 
 much of the brightness and sweetness was taken 
 from my daily life ; that I was again solitary, 
 again companionless ! But it was so ; many 
 months, perhaps years, might elapse before I 
 should see her once more, and meantime the 
 changeless round of trials would return for me 
 daily. My father's recovery was not to be 
 reasonably expected now ; it was impossible. 
 Mr. Bean had almost said so, and I felt that 
 I must rather prepare myself for increasing 
 infirmity, and increasing depression of spirits. 
 And there was no prospect of a change in out- 
 ward circumstances ; no possible, or probable, 
 chance of an altered condition, or of even a 
 partial return of fortune. Oh no, I must not 
 hope for that now ; but I had hoped for it 
 once; as a little child I used to dream of it 
 when sitting at my father's side ; thoughtful, 
 visionary as I was now at seventeen I had been 
 at twelve, and I had pictured to myself papa, 
 well, strong, and happy, re-installed in the 
 antique, gorgeous mansion of Arrowmere, and 
 surrounded by his old friends and tenantry, 
 
 I 2 
 
116 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 drinking his health and mine ! Young as I was 
 even yet, I felt now that the dream could never 
 be true. A reality was before me far different, 
 and for that I must nerve myself and be strong. 
 I must look to the recurrence of old days, and 
 nothing more, save as the thoughts of Jeannie, 
 and the hope of meeting him again, cast an 
 enchantment over the future. Plaints, despond- 
 ing fretfulness, and utter prostration of mind 
 and body, all these I must meet with patient 
 endurance, unwearied care, watchful love ; and 
 even such were a poor recompense for the depth 
 of my father's sorrowful affection. Oh, I would 
 try hard to soften the bitterness of his lot — I 
 would try very hard to do the duty of a loving 
 child, with Heaven's blessing. 
 
 I stole up-stairs into my little bedroom with 
 careful, noiseless steps ; I did not wish my 
 father to see the tears that streamed down my 
 cheeks, so I shut the door softly, and sat down 
 by the window. It was not yet five o'clock, 
 and already thick mists and fogs were gathering- 
 round the low grass lands and heaths, and 
 
BY THE SEA. 117 
 
 hiding the distant town. My poor little garden 
 looked very dreary ; the tall-leafed artichoke- 
 plants stood up in the midst, straight, yellow, 
 and desolate — all else was bare, leaflesss, broken, 
 and withered. Beyond lay the sea, dim, hazy, 
 and deep purple in the partial light. How 
 immense, how grand, how fearless it looked ! 
 I grew sadder as I gazed on it; its terrible 
 vastness and chainless freedom were so con- 
 trasted to the poorness and humility of my lot, 
 over which I had no control. As I contem- 
 plated it, a feeling of longing came over me — 
 a longing for somewhat of its power, of its 
 freedom, of its nobility. Then I thought of 
 Lindsay, and grew calm. 
 
 When I entered the little parlour, papa was 
 talking to our old cat, Bailie, who looked up 
 into his face with a comical look of contempla- 
 tive sympathy ; the fire burned brightly in the 
 grate, and the water in the kettle sang with 
 a cheerful social sound ; papa turned towards 
 me with an expression of intense relief on his 
 face. 
 
118 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " What a time you have been gone, dearie ■ 
 I have been so dull; I believe it must be seven 
 o'clock. Well, is Mrs. Dunstan gone?" 
 
 " Not till to-morrow, papa." 
 
 "And has she decided where to go, at last?" 
 
 " Yes ; to London, and on to Paris with 
 Jeannie. She is going to remain in a school 
 there for a year." 
 
 " And when will they come here again, 
 then?" 
 
 " Next autumn, perhaps ; but I am afraid it 
 won't be so soon. I think it all depends more 
 upon Angelica than any one." 
 
 (( That young lady from India ? Is Mrs. 
 Dunstan so very fond of her?" 
 
 " I don't think it 's much affection, papa — at 
 least Jeannie says so — but that it is more because 
 Angelica has a violent temper, and if she can- 
 not have her own way in everything sulks 
 and pouts the whole day long, and poor Mrs. 
 Dunstan has no one to speak to, and go out 
 with." 
 
 " Those Indian-born people are always fiery — 
 
BY THE SEA. 119 
 
 did you not say that this Miss Laurison is very 
 rich?" 
 
 •* Yes ; her father was a planter." 
 
 My father looked into the fire musingly. 
 
 ce And did you not say that that young man — 
 Mr. — I mean the friend of Mrs. Dunstan's " 
 
 S( Jocelyn — Mr. Jocelyn." 
 
 " Yes ; did you not say he was a barrister ? " 
 
 « Yes." 
 
 "No doubt he will marry this rich girl: it 
 would be a good match/' said papa, in the same 
 reflective manner. 
 
 (t Lindsay marry Angelica, father dear ! " 
 
 I was speaking quite in a voice of alarm, and 
 broke off. 
 
 " Why not ? you say she is rich, and young, 
 
 and What sort of looking girl did you say she 
 
 was, Chatty?" 
 
 It was rather difficult for me to define my 
 idea of Angelica's face ; she was certainly good- 
 looking, that is, if good looks consist in regular 
 features, dark hair, and clear complexion ; but, 
 whether it was something in the expression of 
 
120 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 her eyes, or the outline of her mouth, I cannot 
 say, I only know that I never saw any one's 
 countenance that was less pleasing to me than 
 hers. 
 
 " Jeannie says people call her handsome, papa, 
 hut I don't think so at all ; perhaps it is because 
 I don't like her." 
 
 (C Ten to one if they don't make a match of 
 it," rejoined my father, quite interested in his 
 supposition ; " I do not see any obstacle at all ; 
 she would never refuse a handsome young man 
 like that. How I should like a piece of toast." 
 
 " I '11 soon make some," I said, starting up. 
 
 "No; it's time for you to pour out the tea; 
 I 'm dreadfully thirsty." 
 
 " But Ellice can do it whilst I 'm after the 
 tea." 
 
 " No, never mind, I don't care about it, and 
 servants never know how to toast properly. 
 What blue -looking milk! I believe it's half 
 water — people always impose on such as us, poor 
 and genteel ; it 's horrid to be poor and genteel ! 
 every one despises you. To think that we can- 
 
BY THE SEA. 121 
 
 not get new milk even after paying for it! At 
 one time, I couldn't touch tea without cream, 
 and now if we could only have what the servants 
 used to give the cats at Arrowmere I should be 
 content." 
 
 But I did not let papa complain of the milk 
 again; every morning I put a small quantity 
 into a flat dish and skimmed off the cream which 
 had arisen by tea-time. So he said the milk 
 was really much better; he believed the dairy- 
 man must have bought a cow of the Arrowmere 
 breed; no others gave such milk. 
 
 After a few days, Jeannie wrote to me. It was 
 a short letter, but it brought me immeasurable 
 pleasure; she described the journey to London, 
 the house in Belgrave Square, the thick fogs 
 and black mud. Mrs. Dunstan and Angelica 
 were going to take her to Paris, where she was 
 to remain a year, to finish her education. There 
 was a postscript which after the first reading was 
 engraved word for word on my heart. 
 
 " Lindsay called on us yesterday ; he asked 
 me a hundred questions about you. Mamma and 
 
122 . THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Angelica seemed rather cool to him; I cannot 
 understand it at all. He seemed so sorry that he 
 was not coming to Ingham. He has been very 
 busy." 
 
 I read the letter over and over again, and 
 then put it carefully in my work-box; and even 
 when the formation of every letter was familiar 
 to me, it was a pleasure to me ever and anon 
 to look at it. My mind was differently employed 
 to what it once had been, as I sat over my 
 sewing, or busied myself in my household 
 occupations. I was not so constantly day- 
 dreaming; picturing all sorts of impossible 
 happiness, all sorts of visionary existence and 
 fanciful fairy-land hopes. This was in my 
 childhood ; now I had something real to think 
 of and hope for ; and the contemplation lent a 
 new charm to my life and a new contentment 
 to my heart. 
 
 He had not forgotten me, then ; oh, how joyful 
 Jeamiie's letter made me ! He was not changed. 
 If he loved me once, he loved me still ; — 
 happy — happy thought ! 
 
BY THE SEA. 123 
 
 But then, why this long absence? Was his 
 love like mine? Even in my radiant Eden, 
 must a serpent enter? I was sad and joyful 
 alternately. 
 
124 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 My father still talked wistfully of Mr. Stirling. 
 His name was an awakener of old memories — 
 the sad, sweet music of joy and sunshine 
 gone; and he spoke more frequently of those 
 halcyon days now. When I sat by his side at 
 the dusk hour, and all was silent save the booming 
 noise of the waves, a subdued and more patient 
 mood of grief seemed to steal over him. He 
 spoke of my mother, of her tenderness and of 
 her beauty ; of Arrowmere ; of jovial friends and 
 happy hours. There was no bitterness in his 
 regret, no vehemence in his sadness, at such 
 times ; but the tears that stole one by one down 
 his wasted cheeks, appeared to relieve and soften 
 the despondency of his spirit. 
 
 How I longed for Mr. Stirling ! but whenever 
 
BY THE SEA. 125 
 
 I mentioned the slightest chance of his coming, 
 papa raised an infinity of objections. I tried 
 to think of a plan by which I could contrive 
 a visit from him which should be almost 
 accidental, but could hit on none. I feared 
 papa's vexation and Mr. Stirling's annoyance ; 
 still, the subject was constantly on my mind. 
 It seemed to me that the intercourse with him 
 was to be a sort of angel visit — a panacea for 
 papa's ennui and restlessness ; he spoke of him 
 as of a being of a higher sphere, with a reverential 
 commenting on his virtues, as if they removed 
 him from all other men. Surely the influence 
 of such a mind and character would be an 
 evangelus of peace and calmness to a heart like 
 my father's, broken-down, wearied, heavily-laden. 
 My love for Lindsay, and Jeannie's friendship, 
 made me ambitions. I thirsted for a means of 
 cultivating the talents which God had given me, 
 and without which cultivation I felt unfit for 
 the sphere in which they moved; and in this, 
 though there were many obstacles, I resolved 
 to succeed. I felt my need of more strict 
 
126 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 intellectual training than I had received from 
 the course of my miscellaneous and most varied 
 readings. I had read enough to make me 
 curious and eager for knowledge, but not 
 enough to form my taste and correct my 
 judgment. Besides, the thought occurred to me, 
 I might one day have to earn my own living; 
 knowledge was not only useful to me, it was 
 essential. The first thing I did was to go to 
 Mr. Binnie, who foraged up a heap of grammar, 
 history, and geography, which I carried home to 
 read, mark, and inwardly digest. 
 
 But these did not satisfy me. One day, last 
 year — how well I remembered it ! — we were sit- 
 ting together by the beach, Lindsay and I, and 
 somehow our conversation turned upon the supe- 
 riority of the education of boys to that of girls. 
 
 " I wish you understood Latin, Chatty," he said. 
 
 " Why do you wish so ? " I asked. 
 
 " Because there is a vigour and stern beauty 
 in the language, which you would comprehend 
 and appreciate better than many others." 
 
 And ever after that I longed to learn Latin; 
 
BY THE SEA* 127 
 
 and, after many cogitations in my own mind, set 
 off one day to Mr. Bean's. 
 
 " Ah ? how dye do," said the little doctor, rubbing 
 his hands, as if with a kind of mental glee ; " it 's 
 very sensible of you to take a run this fine day. 
 Exercise is the key of health you know, eh? 
 What fine noble fellows the Greeks and Romans 
 were, eh? and they didn't sit over the fire all 
 day, in arm-chairs and felt slippers, eh ? they 
 knew better. We 're not half so clever, with all 
 the steam, and daguerreotype, and telegraph, and 
 science, to help us. We haven't half such heads ; 
 but it is the natural consequence — don't you see 
 everything is made so easy for us that we are not 
 spurred on ; everything astonishing and impossible 
 has been accomplished, and if you want to be great 
 now you must find a way to the moon; we 
 won't look at any one who can't do that. I say, 
 if you want to be great you must find a way to 
 the moon — eh, Chatty ? " 
 
 I laughed ;~ and then, in a hesitating voice, spoke 
 my errand. I had been thinking, I told him, that 
 I ought to be learning something useful, as I could 
 
128 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 not tell what might happen ; and I thought if he 
 
 would lend me some Latin books 
 
 " Bravo ! " said the little excitable man, vigor- 
 ously, and with the speed of lightning mounted 
 some wooden steps, behind which were two or three 
 cases of books. " Bravo ! there isn't a language that 
 can hold a candle to it — a wax candle in a silver 
 stick — I say it 's the cream and pith and inde- 
 structible essence of all languages ; the succus sub- 
 tillissimus of that wonderful thing called language. 
 The tongue of Cicero — of Virgil — what could you 
 learn better ? What is all the harmony of catgut 
 and wires in the world to eloquence like theirs ? 
 Pshaw ? it's a mere nothing, a mere sound and idle 
 amusement. You are right, Chatty ; go to the 
 classics, — go to the fountain-head. Classics for 
 ever ! Well, to begin. Here 's a grammar, some- 
 what yellow and dusty, but, like me, not a bit the 
 worse for the wear. Learn it through ; if you can't 
 understand it at first, learn till you do. Then you 
 come to translating. Here 's " C. Julii Caesaris de 
 Bello Gallico Commentariorum." The very book; 
 you couldn't have a better : and here 's a dictionary, 
 
BY THE SEA. 129 
 
 half as big as yourself. When you have trans- 
 ferred the contents of the grammar to your head, 
 take to Julius Caesar. Translate every minute 
 you can. If you don't make sense, make nonsense ; 
 any how translate, and when you have got through 
 one book come to me. I will then tell you how 
 Latin ought to be read, and anything else you 
 want to know. And when you quite understand 
 it, I will teach you Greek. Set to work hard, 
 you'll soon master all the ups and downs, and in a 
 year or two — come, I '11 be bound to say Ingham 
 won't be able to produce another young lady 
 like you. All right, I know you will persevere. 
 Remember me to papa. Good-bye." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," I said, holding out my hand. 
 
 " Don't thank me, you have nothing to thank 
 me for ; thank yourself for your good sense and 
 perseverance: or, rather, thank God — and so go on, 
 little Chatty, working, working, working, till you 
 attain not only to the complementum of knowledge 
 but of goodness also. Ha ! I think we shall have 
 a shower ; but it won't be yet, not till you 're 
 home ; that 's right, run," 
 
 vol. i. • K 
 
130 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 So I set to work over my Latin books and 
 histories to lay the first foundation of my own in- 
 tellectual culture; I set to work to render myself 
 worthy of friendship and of Lindsay. In solitude, 
 in difficulty, in various disadvantages, was the 
 work begun. Ah ! how would it be finished ? 
 
 Much as I wished it, I could not secrete my 
 occupations from papa. I had to be so constantly 
 with him that most of my study hours, excepting 
 those I stole from my nights' rest, were taken as 
 we sat together in the little parlour. One morning, 
 after eyeing the books uneasily, he said — 
 
 " I don't see the use of your poring over those 
 things so by yourself, poor little dear ; you ought 
 to have some one to teach you." 
 
 " But Mr. Bean helps me, papa," I said. 
 
 " What use will it ever be to you ? What on 
 earth put it into your head to try and learn ? " con- 
 tinued my father, in an unsatisfied tone of voice. 
 
 " Knowledge is always useful, of any kind," I 
 said, bending my face over the open page, for I did 
 not wish to divulge either of the reasons which 
 had induced me to begin seriously studying. 
 
BY THE SEA. 131 
 
 But I think poor papa guessed one, for he put 
 his hand caressingly on my head, and said, in a 
 mournful voice — 
 
 " Pray God you may never come to worse than 
 this, dearie." 
 
 Every spare moment was devoted to this work 
 of self-improvement. My desultory reading; all 
 the travels, and poems, and life stories, with which 
 I had formerly amused myself in my leisure time, 
 were put aside. To remedy the deficiencies of 
 early instruction was now my sole aim ; so I read, 
 wrote, and learned with a good and earnest heart. 
 Accomplishments — refinements, as Mrs. Dunstan 
 called them — were far out of my reach; but so long 
 as I was well-informed and intellectual, I thought 
 that neither she nor Angelica would think me 
 unfit to be Jeannie's companion. Still I sighed 
 over the music sometimes, and thought of the plea- 
 sure a piano would give papa, but it was no use 
 
 u Dear, dear Chatty," wrote my warm-hearted 
 Jeannie, " how I wish you were here, and were 
 to be one of this soft-speaking, flounced-out 
 madame's pupils, till next holidays. I don't 
 
 K 2 
 
132 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 dislike being at this school so very much, after 
 all. I like it ten times better than being in Bel- 
 grave Square, shut up with a French governess, 
 and showed down every day after dinner to play 
 'La Violette' or ' The Wedding March.' We 
 are very near the Tuilleries gardens, and walk 
 in every day, where we see a good many people 
 
 and but I forget what I was going to say? and 
 
 will begin something else. We don't breakfast 
 till twelve, or dine till five, and have no tea or 
 lunch — isn't it funny? but then we eat all the 
 more at breakfast, so it is the same in the end; 
 and all the little ones have their meals separate 
 with the governess. There are three governesses, 
 one a Parisienne, one a Swiss, and one an English 
 lady. The Parisienne is the smartest and 
 pleasantest, but gets dreadfully into debt, and 
 doesn't hear half the lessons when Madame is out 
 of the class-room (there are four class-rooms), 
 which some of the girls like, but I don't think 
 it 's right, do you ? The Swiss is very good- 
 natured, but very stupid and sleepy, and the girls 
 make fun of her, and mimic her ways and manners, 
 
BY THE SEA. 133 
 
 the minute her back is turned; and the English 
 teacher is starch, stiff, and prim, the pattern of 
 good principles and bad temper. Her name is 
 Vince ; oh, she has such sharp eyes ! they are 
 everywhere at the same time, and nothing pleases 
 her better than to find something wrong, and 
 make a fuss about it. I know that people ought 
 to be conscientious, and that lessons should not 
 be skipped over, or sums rubbed out ; but I don't 
 think she has any business to go spying about as 
 she does ; it only makes the girls more sly, for 
 you know, Chatty, that school-girls are generally 
 rather defective in moral principle, as mamma says. 
 If they can get any one to do anything for them 
 they won't mind passing it over as theirs, and if 
 they can get off anything they will. But I don't 
 like Miss Vince to tell tales; and I can't help 
 thinking she often does more harm than good. 
 You ask me if I learn a good deal. I don't know, 
 I 'm sure. I practise on the piano two hours and 
 a half every day ; have lessons in drawing, music, 
 dancing and Italian twice a week ; speak German 
 or French all school-hours ; hear a French book 
 
134 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 read to us all breakfast time, and a lecture on 
 astronomy and general physics once a week by 
 a M. Le Due, a professor at a college or insti- 
 tute or something ; write out a verb every blessed 
 morning before the clock strikes seven, and all 
 the spare minutes read out of a little book called 
 ( Boileau's Satires.' I like music very much, but 
 all the rest, excepting dancing, I hate. As to 
 the German, Chatty, it's positively abominable. 
 I am afraid I shall never know enough to teach 
 you, but you can have all my books ; and, let me 
 see, one — two — three, I think I have seven 
 altogether. The French girls here (half the 
 pupils are French and half English) are very 
 quick at learning, but very lazy and dilatory, not 
 half so persevering as the English ones. I believe 
 if you were here you would learn quicker than 
 any one. Some of the girls tell stories often ! it 's 
 very wrong, isn't it? but they don't seem to 
 think anything of it, and the French governess 
 never corrects them. Madame often goes to the 
 theatre on a Sunday evening, and nearly all the 
 shops are open till noon-time. I wonder it is 
 
BY THE SEA. 135 
 
 allowed. I can't write any more as it 's breakfast- 
 time. Good-bye. Write soon. Oh, how I long 
 to see yon ! " 
 
 The spring was a long, and cold, and dreary 
 one. There were no heavy falls of snow, such 
 as make everything look strangely beautiful and 
 unearthlike, but continuous dry, sharp, biting 
 winds, with now and then showers of sleet that 
 rattled against our rickety, unsound windows like 
 near thunder. Situated as our lonely dwelling 
 was on a high, bare hill, we got an unusual share 
 of cold and wind ; and, though we kept a bright 
 fire in the little parlour, and shut the doors tight, 
 and put up screens to keep out the draughts, 
 within half a dozen yards of it the atmosphere 
 was chill, and if I ran up-stairs and only stayed a 
 minute I came down with benumbed hands and 
 shivering frame. My studies went on slowly. 
 Papa was confined all day to the fire, and his 
 arm-chair ; I did not like to sit by him in silence 
 long together, and a great part of the day was 
 spent over work, so that I could be more com- 
 panionable. The days passed with no variation 
 
136 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 except Jeannie's letters, but summer was coming, 
 and I was cheerful. How dreary the White 
 House looked ! I could not help thinking so, as 
 I returned from my daily run with glowing cheeks 
 and disordered hair. The dark rocks, sombre 
 and gloomy, around and beneath it, and a leaden 
 sky over its white, ghost-like shadow, for it looked 
 like a shadow of some other world, so solitary, so 
 isolated, so far away from all other signs of man's 
 habitation and home. 
 
 "What a dismal place to live in!" said my 
 father one day, looking out of the window, " and 
 yet I don't think I should mind it, if it were not 
 for you, Chatty ; it 's such a dismal place for you, 
 my poor little girl ; and so young as you are, too, 
 you ought to be happy." 
 
 " I am happy, papa," I said, energetically ; 
 " don't think about me ; I don't mind being dull 
 so long as I have you to talk to, and Jeannie 
 will soon be back again." 
 
 " I wish I could talk to you cheerfully, and 
 be more like a companion, Chatty; I wish I 
 were more like what I used to be : I didn't want 
 
BY THE SEA. 137 
 
 my spirits and humour so much then. But all 
 went at once — health, spirits, fortune, and friends, 
 and only the wreck is left for you as a heritage ; 
 only a poor, broken wreck. Heaven help me ! 
 I know I should not complain, but it seems so 
 hard upon my poor, helpless, innocent, patient 
 Chatty." ; 
 
 " I won't be patient if you talk so, papa," I 
 said, cheerfully and fondly. " I am sure if I had 
 seen you before — before your illness and troubles, 
 I couldn't have loved you better than I do now ; 
 but I won't have you talk so, papa, I won't 
 indeed." 
 
 Then I kissed him affectionately, and said, in 
 a jesting voice, that I wondered how he could 
 bear with me at all, I was such a little head- 
 strong self-willed thing, and actually poor papa 
 smiled as he stroked my cheek, saying — 
 
 " You are so like your mother, dearie ! " 
 
 And often now he would liken me to the 
 beloved one gone; and, after watching me in 
 silence, would murmur softly and sadly — 
 
 "Helen Charlton!" 
 
138 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " Hue du Mont Parnasse, 
 
 " Faubourg St. Germain. 
 
 " It won't be long now, Chatty — it won't be long 
 now. Oh, how glad I am that I shall soon be into 
 the dear little town by the coast ! I am getting on 
 better with the German, and so, perhaps, shall 
 
 be able to help you a little, and But I am 
 
 forgetting the principal thing I have to tell you. 
 Who do you think came to see me yesterday ? 
 None other but Lindsay ; I can't tell you how 
 delighted I was to see him; and he looked so 
 handsome ! and when he walked in the Tuilleries 
 Gardens with me, I could not but contrast him 
 with all the other men we saw; there was not 
 one who was half so manly and strong and tall 
 as he. Well, the Ingham stay will be managed 
 
BY THE SEA. 139 
 
 all right this year, for he has promised to persuade 
 mamma, and mamma, or any one else either, can't 
 resist him, you know. He seemed so pleased 
 that you and I corresponded, and said he should 
 be delighted to see you again, and that he had 
 been working dreadfully hard or he would have 
 run down, many and many a time. He asked 
 a hundred questions about you, and is coming 
 down to Ingham in October, as he laughed 
 and said that he had got in high favour of late 
 with mamma and Angelica. I think mamma 
 will invite some other visitors to Ingham as we ll, 
 but nothing will hinder our enjoyment. Oh, the 
 long, long walks we shall have together on the 
 shore ! If I can, I shall persuade mamma to 
 remain at Helmsley-End till March. She says 
 Ingham is so cold in winter — is it? I don't 
 think I should mind the cold. Next spring I 
 shall ( come out;' I wish there was not such a 
 thing as coming out, or that we could take 
 things quieter. I dare say I shall like some 
 part of the coming out very well ; but I have never 
 looked forward to it as most girls do. I hope the 
 
140 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 gaiety won't alter me. It never will alter my 
 affection for you, Chatty, but I mean that it 
 will never make me heartless, and selfish, and 
 
 world-loving, like hut I won't say whom I 
 
 mean. I ought not to judge. I am getting 
 heartily tired of this school. At seventeen, one 
 is too old for school; although my school 
 consists now only in lessons from masters, 
 readings, compositions, &c. Fancy, in music, 
 I have one master to teach taste, and another 
 execution ! There is not one pupil here that 
 I can make a companion of: the French girls 
 natter and coax me over, as if I were a baby, 
 and then try to get something out of me ; and 
 the English ones talk so much nonsense, and 
 have so many childish secrets, and ridiculous 
 school-girls' ways, that I am very wearied of 
 them all. There is no one here like you, dear, 
 nor I suppose another Chatty in the whole world. 
 At least, I think so. Good-bye. Write soon. 
 
 "P.S. Have you got still that white muslin 
 dress, worked with pink spots, which you used to 
 wear ? Some one said you looked so pretty in it ! " 
 
BY THE SEA. 141 
 
 Jeannie's letter made me very happy. I sat 
 holding it in my hands for some minutes, with 
 a smile upon my lips, drawing a bright picture 
 of the meeting in October. Then, actuated by 
 some unaccountable impulse, I went up-stairs, 
 and put on the dress I had worn during Lindsay's 
 visits. I w T as quite a child in my exuberance, 
 and hopefulness of spirits. I felt as if I trod 
 on ambient air — as if I breathed a new atmo- 
 sphere, and had discovered a new world, and like 
 Columbus's it was fair, and rich in gold. For 
 the first time in my life, I experienced somewhat 
 of a woman's vanity — for the first time, I felt 
 how delightful to be beautiful in the eyes of 
 him I loved. I stood before the looking-cdass, 
 in irresolute contemplature. I wanted to draw 
 a conclusion with respect to myself — to feel 
 assured whether or no I could boast of aught 
 graceful or lovely to please his eyes. I could 
 not quite arrive at a decision. I had in my 
 mind no standard of beautv save that which 
 should be beauty to him; and no ideal of 
 perfection, beyond a thing which he could love. 
 
142 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Perhaps of all the female faces I had ever 
 seen, Angelica's was the handsomest ; yet I 
 had never seen one which had charmed me 
 less. Jeannie's arch smile, ingenuousness, and 
 sweetness of expression, even without entire 
 regularity of features, to me, was far more 
 loveable and engaging, and I could hardly 
 imagine any one who would not think as I 
 did. But I was so totally different to both 
 Angelica and Jeannie that this conclusion 
 in no way helped me. There was a sparkle 
 in my eyes of hope and present gladness — a 
 brightness on my cheek of youthful freshness 
 and healthfulness — a look of thoughtfulness, 
 almost seriousness, about my mouth, at times 
 mingled with eager joy — but that was all ; I 
 could go no farther, excepting as I matched 
 my hair with the dark-brown colour of the 
 rocks. I could not tell, or guess even, if my 
 face was a tale-teller of my inner life and mind ; 
 if my emotions were shown in it — whether the 
 depth and tenderness of my heart — whether 
 my capability of loving, my power of endurance, 
 
BY THE SEA* 143 
 
 my ardent and enthusiastic impulses, my 
 impetuous seeking and loving of goodness and 
 
 beauty Were all these shut tight down, and 
 
 locked up within? — all that I considered most 
 amiable and worthy in my nature hidden always ? 
 I hoped not — I believed not, but I was not 
 assured. Circumstance and habit had so ac- 
 customed me to restraint and self-controlment, 
 that I almost feared it might have grown to a 
 constant and dull quietness, ere I was aware. 
 And yet no ... . He had not said so. 
 
 So I put on the same light summer dress, the 
 cheap, pretty muslin, which had cost Ellice such 
 a heap of pains and pride in the doing up, and 
 went to church ; for it was a Sunday morning : 
 and henceforth I resolved to keep it for high- 
 days and sunshine holidays ; his words had 
 hallowed it — his memory endeared it. Ah, 
 what a little thing suffices to make us happy ! 
 
 Thus the days pass. I have been reading 
 nothing lately but Fenimore Cooper's novels. 
 I should never have thought of reading them 
 myself, for I have little love for novels of any 
 
144 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 sort, but he recommended them to me, and I 
 am anxious to be able to give my opinion of 
 them. Mr. Bean comes in sometimes, and is as 
 kind as ever, I still go on perseveringly with 
 the Latin ; but, somehow, I have now no fears 
 for the future ; I do not look into the far, far 
 time, when the home of my youth, and the 
 protector of that home, shall have passed away — 
 when I might be left friendless, fatherless, home- 
 less — I might almost say homeless, for a great 
 part of the very small income which constitutes 
 my father's livelihood is only life-interest and dies 
 with him. Poor papa ! he has too many daily 
 troubles and vexations engrossing his mind to 
 think or deprecate the future. Sometimes he 
 says — 
 
 " I would give anything in the world if we 
 knew Mr. Stirling — he would be so kind to you, 
 Chatty." 
 
 I suppose he meant that he would be kind to 
 me when I was left alone, but I know not. 
 Papa often talked about dying, but only in that 
 sort of way that afflicted people always do ; as 
 
BY THE SEA. 145 
 
 if it was a thing lie wished for too much ever 
 to come to him. He talks often and often to 
 me about my dead mother, and old days. And 
 I let him go on, for he never seems so happy 
 as when so engaged. I take my walks as usual 
 to the Library and to Mr. Bean's, but he never 
 likes to have me away from him for an hour 
 even, and the consciousness of being so necessary 
 to him, and so dear, fills my heart with thank- 
 fulness. I cannot read or study nearly so much 
 as I used to do, for his sight fails him, and I go 
 through the "Times" every morning; and read 
 him to sleep after dinner. 
 
 So time flies. It is only three months now 
 till the time of meeting. That meeting is all 
 the world to me. I have no other hope — no 
 other love — and when the house is silent at night, 
 the happiest part of my life comes. For I am 
 alone, and 
 
 " Contemplation is a thing 
 Which renders that I have not, mine." 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
146 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 I never passed Mr. Stirling's house but with a 
 lingering step and wistful look. I felt sure, that 
 in spite of papa's many and stringent objections, 
 he would have felt pleasure in seeing again 
 one who had shared the hospitality of his sunny 
 days — who had known him in his youth and 
 prosperity — and who would understand, without 
 questioning, the sad, sad changes. And I had a 
 very great desire to know him. Of late, since 
 the Dunstan interest had died off, my father 
 had continually reverted to the subject of their 
 former intercourse ; and all he said was calcu- 
 lated to heighten my curiosity, and raise my 
 admiration. His character had made a consider- 
 able impression on my mind; I had never heard 
 of one resembling it before, and I knew of none 
 
BY THE SEA. 147 
 
 to whom it could be compared. It was not only 
 now — not only as the thoughtful, virtuous man, 
 that I thought of him, but as the Mr. Stirling of 
 years back — and it seemed so strange to me, 
 that in spite of the world, of which he must 
 have seen so much, nothing of the nobility and 
 elevation of his character had been impaired. 
 And from all I had learned from papa of a gay 
 life I always likened it in my mind to Nebu- 
 chadnezzar's fiery furnace : so much selfishness — 
 so much hypocrisy — so much uncharitableness, 
 and such an infinity of ignoble and mean passions, 
 Ah, he was brave indeed who escaped unscathed ! 
 One summer evening, on my way home from 
 a country ramble which led me by Mr. Stirling's 
 house, the garden -gate stood wide open, and I 
 crossed the road that I should get a better view of 
 the house. I heard a voice speaking very gently 
 and kindly, and when I passed the gateway, I 
 saw the tall figure of a man leading a little child 
 by the hand, and bending down to talk to it. It 
 was a baby almost; apparently about a year 
 and some months old, and just able to walk and 
 
 L 2 
 
148 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 prattle. I knew it was Mr. Stirling, although I 
 could not see his face ; and when I reiterated to 
 papa my entreaty that he would write to him, 
 he wiped a tear from his eye : 
 
 " You are right, dearie. Heaven help me ! you 
 do need a friend, I know how much; give me 
 the paper and ink — I will write." 
 
 " I am not thinking of myself, father," I 
 exclaimed, eagerly ; " I want no one but you and 
 Jeannie ; oh, I do not want friends, but " 
 
 " I am a poor friend, an enemy rather " 
 
 I put the paper before papa, and motioned him 
 that I wouldn't hear a word more, and he dipped 
 the pen in ink and began : 
 
 " I can't write, Chatty — I 'm not well." 
 He threw down the pen and burst into tears : 
 " I can't write, my dearie. I can't do anything 
 to be of use to you — not even of procuring 
 you a friend, and God knows when you will 
 want one! I never can be any use to you. I 
 can burden your life with sorrow, and bitterness, 
 and wretchedness — that's all. All the rest I 
 could bear with patience, but it seems so hard 
 
BY THE SEA. 149 
 
 to bring all this upon you — and so young too. 
 My God forgive me ! I don't deserve to have 
 any one left to me, I 'm so ungrateful. Poor 
 Chatty!" 
 
 Then he clasped me tight in his arms, and 
 sobbed like a heart-broken child. 
 
 " Dear, dear father, don't cry ; don't grieve 
 for me; I am happy, indeed I am." 
 
 And I could say no more, for the quick rising 
 tears. It was a long time before he grew calm. 
 I carefully avoided the mention of Mr. Stirling's 
 name. Papa looked dreamily out of the window. 
 
 " Why, papa," I exclaimed, cheerfully, and 
 seating myself on a stool at his feet, " you have 
 not heard Jeannie's letter yet; it is such a nice 
 long one." And I drew it out of my pocket and 
 began to read ; anything to draw him from that 
 state of dreaming torpor ; tears were even better 
 than that. 
 
 The evening passed off as usual ; I took down 
 the Bible and read a psalm or two to him, as 
 was my wont; then he gave me his good-night 
 kiss and went to bed. 
 
150 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 I sit thinking over many things to-night. My 
 
 poor father ! How strange it was that he should 
 
 long so passionately for his manhood's friend, 
 
 and yet that he should be so unwilling to seek 
 
 hhu. Ah, I could almost understand the feeling ; 
 
 the radiant vision of Arrowmere, the palmy days 
 
 of his lordly house and lordly wealth, the form 
 
 of his Helen Charlton as the beautiful bride of 
 
 his youth, and the mistress and glory of his 
 
 splendid home — all, all came back to him then, 
 
 and he was crushed with the weight of so much 
 
 happiness, and so much sorrow. By and by, 
 
 I think of Lindsay. He still loved me. How 
 
 could I doubt it? We should meet again. I 
 
 should see his face and hear his voice, and he 
 
 would be unchanged. My heart was a glad 
 
 prophet 
 
 Jeannie would be with me too; and she loved 
 me so fondly. I took out her dear letter, and 
 read it over and over again. 
 
 " It is all quite settled now, and we are coming 
 to Ingham on the fourteenth of October, and 
 mamma has written about the house, and Lindsay 
 
BY THE SEA. 151 
 
 has promised to run down and see that every- 
 thing is comfortable and in order a week before. 
 Of course he will call upon you. How angry 
 Angelica will be ! Somehow, she never seems 
 in good temper when Lindsay says anything 
 about you; I rather think she fancies he likes 
 her, but it can't be ; they are so totally different 
 and " 
 
 Suddenly I hear the sound of a heavy fall, 
 and start up, pale and trembling with a terrible 
 dread and fear; for it is a sound that from 
 a sorrowful experience I know well. I rush 
 up-stairs with a swiftness that affright alone can 
 give, and on the threshold of my father's bed- 
 room I pause for one minute, utterly powerless 
 and speechless. 
 
 My worst apprehensions are verified. It is 
 another stroke of paralysis, and he lies on the 
 floor, prostrate, convulsed, helpless. 
 
 There was no time for grief or reflection. 
 With the best care we raised him up, and then 
 Ellice ran off for Mr. Bean, whilst I remained 
 watching at the bedside. Those weary, weary 
 
152 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 minutes, they seemed as if they would not pass ! 
 Ever and anon I kept turning my eyes from 
 the bed to the clock, and when half an hour 
 was gone I felt as if I must have waited a 
 whole day. But when Mr. Bean had come 
 and gone I almost envied my former state of 
 incertitude — the suspense which was nearly hope- 
 fulness. Not that the good kmd doctor told me 
 there was no chance of recovery, he merely 
 shook hands with me very gravely and quietly, 
 and said — 
 
 " There are many chances for and against — 
 only keep up your spirits, and hope for the 
 best." 
 
 But I knew well that if there had been room 
 for hope he would have told me. 
 
 Ellice and I both sat up with papa that night, 
 but Mr. Bean promised to send a nurse in the 
 morning; her wages would make a sad hole in 
 our weekly income, but there was no help for it. 
 I could not let Ellice do the duty of servant 
 and help me to nurse too, and I must take care 
 of my own health, it was invaluable to me now. 
 
BY THE SEA. 153 
 
 How seldom is real unselfishness seen, and how 
 beautiful it is, and angelic ! Papa and I were 
 nothing to Ellice but as employers who paid 
 her moderately, and yet, because the girl's affec- 
 tionate heart had been touched by our poverty 
 and isolation, and because we had repaid her 
 faithfulness by confidence and esteem, she was 
 willing to do anything for our sakes. Ignorant, 
 untutored, true-hearted Ellice, thou hast taught 
 me a parable that hath a Bible-simplicity and 
 sublimity. May I ever remember it! 
 
 In about a fortnight we were able to dismiss the 
 nurse, which was a great saving and satisfaction ; 
 for papa slept very well at nights, and there would 
 no longer be the strong tea to make, and the 
 brandy to buy. And I was sorely hard up for 
 money. There was no more due to papa till after 
 Michaelmas, and I had only a few pounds to carry 
 me through till then, and lots of extra expenses. I 
 tried my best to be cheerful, and banish anxiety, 
 but the spectre of Poverty was never entirely 
 driven from my mind. But there was nothing I 
 could do, save trust in God. Everything was put 
 
154 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 away now — Fenimore Cooper, Tacitus, and long 
 dreaming strolls by the beach; all the day, and 
 all the day's business and care, was engrossed by 
 the invalid. I could hardly think of Lindsay even, 
 for the grief and foreboding of my heart. I still 
 took a snatch of air and sea breeze at eventide, to 
 keep myself in health, but nothing more: from 
 morning to night, and sometimes from night till 
 morning again, I sat at his bedside, hoping and 
 praying for a sign of returning strength and con- 
 sciousness. At last it came ; after four weeks had 
 passed, my father spoke again, and was enabled 
 to sit up in his arm-chair. 
 
 "Courage, courage little girl!" said good Mr. 
 Bean, joyfully; "didn't I say the chances were 
 equal He'll do, I tell you; he'll do! God bless 
 you, Chatty, you 're a good child ; he '11 get better, 
 depend on it." 
 
 My eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " You have been so kind to us, sir." 
 
 "Kind!" 
 
 It was too much for the Doctor, and he bolted off. 
 I took courage, indeed, when I heard my father 
 
BY THE SEA. 155 
 
 begin to find fault with the weather, and the 
 Ingham grocers ; still there was a child-like help- 
 lessness and dependency about him which was 
 new, and made me very uneasy. He seemed to 
 have lost all memory, and called Mr. Bean by the 
 name of his physician at Arrowmere, as if his 
 illness had somewhat affected his senses. I spoke 
 my fears to the Doctor, and he said — 
 
 " I think it will pass in time ; at least I have a 
 great hope that with the weakness, this confusion 
 and indistinctness will in a great degree go, but it 
 will take time; " then, after some moments' thought- 
 ful silence, he continued : " Excuse the question 
 which I am about to ask, I do it from no curiosity. 
 I think that your father will get over this ; he may 
 never perhaps be so strong as he was before, but 
 he may survive it for many — for a long time. Be 
 assured that I speak conscientiously when I say so, 
 for it would be wrong to raise false hopes; but in 
 any case, it is probable that you will survive 
 him; — would — that is — would his death affect — 
 would you be left with^ an ample provision ? " 
 " I am afraid not; at least I am sure not." 
 
156 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Mr. Bean considered a little, and then suddenly 
 changed the subject. 
 
 " A little cheerful society would work wonders 
 on your father, I do believe. You have no friends 
 here ? " 
 
 "No one." 
 
 "Mr. Stirling knew your father once, some 
 years ago, I remember he told me." 
 
 " Yes, in papa's better days." 
 
 " Why not make known to him that Mr. Warne 
 is residing here ? " 
 
 "Papa will not consent; I have asked him 
 often." 
 
 " Ah well, 1 11 see what he says to it." 
 
 And when Mr. Bean came down-stairs again he 
 rubbed his hands gleefully, and exclaimed, "It's 
 settled ! I knew it would be ; put on your bonnet 
 directly, Chatty, and take the place of your papa's 
 visiting card at Mr. Stirling's." 
 
BY THE SEA. 157 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 I felt a strange shyness and trepidation as I 
 was ushered into Mr. Stirling's house. It was a 
 large and elegant mansion, furnished inside with a 
 simplicity and elegance which struck me far more 
 than the untasteful smartness and gaudiness of 
 Mrs. Dunstan's villa. Beautiful statues, such as I 
 had never before seen, were arranged hi the spa- 
 cious hall, and the ceiling was arched and carved 
 all over with a fineness and symmetry that created 
 in my mind quite a sensation of wonder. Here and 
 there were stands of lovely flowers in bloom, and 
 from a wide glass door, that was half open, I 
 caught a glimpse of smooth shaven grass, with 
 flower-beds intermixed, and a fountain playing in 
 the midst. Pictures that I longed to stand still 
 and look at hung on the walls, and one of the 
 
158 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 numerous doors, standing ajar, disclosed to my 
 view the well filled shelves of a library. Never 
 before had I been where so much loveliness of art 
 and nature had been combined. I should have 
 enjoyed the sight far more, had I not been per- 
 plexing myself, over and over again, as to what 
 I should say to Mr. Stirling. 
 
 At last he came. I just ventured to look up for 
 one minute, and that was all ; but even that 
 momentary glance sufficed to give me an ease and 
 assurance that just before I had been longing to 
 possess. Somehow I had felt a sort of awe of Mr. 
 Stirling's presence, as if he had been a modem 
 Plato or Aristotle, and now I smiled to see how 
 very little awfulness there was about him. He 
 was an aristocratic looking man, about eight and 
 thirty — perhaps a year or two more — with a face 
 that had a wondrously sweet expression in it, and a 
 speaking of much intellect and character ; he was 
 tall, but stooped slightly; and that, added to a touch 
 of grey in his hair, and a look of habitual thought- 
 fulness and melancholy, made him doubtless appear 
 older than he really was. I was quite taken aback 
 
BY THE SEA. 159 
 
 when I saw him, he was so totally different to 
 what I had expected, but I was certainly not 
 disappointed. There was none of the magnificent 
 contemplativeness that I had looked for, none of 
 the philosophic and heroic sternness and grandeur 
 that I had imaginatively pictured. In Mr. Stir- 
 ling's countenance, I read simplicity, elevation, and 
 strong determination of character — nothing more ; 
 and there was an open straightforwardness in 
 his eyes that made me feel sure I should never 
 have cause to alter my opinion. I cannot remem- 
 ber what I said first, but I blushed very much, 
 and hastened to get to papa's name. 
 
 He looked extremely puzzled. 
 
 " Mr. Inglis Warne, did I understand aright ? 
 Mr. Warne of Arrowmere ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I have brought a message from him, 
 
 sir. 
 
 " And you are — you are " 
 
 u I am his daughter," I said, quickly. 
 
 For a minute he fixed his eyes upon me, 
 
 with a whimsical expression of astonishment and 
 
 perplexity. 
 
160 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " Inglis Warne's daughter — I 'm very glad to 
 see you." 
 
 He shook hands cordially, and then sat down, 
 looking more puzzled than before. 
 
 " Papa is living here — has been living here 
 for some time." 
 
 "At Ingham? how sorry I am that I did 
 not know it before. Ah, we were such good 
 friends ! How glad I am ! Did he come this 
 spring i 
 
 "Papa has been living here for many years;" 
 I continued, whilst my eyes filled, "he has had 
 some sad reverses since you knew him, sir, and 
 his health is shattered, too." 
 
 For a minute I hesitated from emotion, and 
 then added — 
 
 " Arrowmere does not belong to him now, 
 and he is very poor, and infirm, and has no 
 friends; will you come and see him, sir?" 
 
 He did not answer for a minute, but regarded 
 me with an expression of great sorrow and 
 interest ; then he jumped up hastily, and 
 said — 
 
BY THE SEA. 161 
 
 " I will call on your father at once, Miss Warne. 
 Oh, I am so sorry to hear of this." 
 
 I rose, and we both returned together. For the 
 first quarter of a mile our conversation was only 
 of the weather and of those commonplaces with 
 which English people not well acquainted in- 
 variably entertain each other. He informed me 
 that it was a lovely day; and I enlightened 
 him by the amusing intelligence that we had 
 been three weeks without rain. Chance at 
 length put us in the way of a more enlarged 
 topic ; for, when we had emerged from Ingham, 
 my companion naturally enough asked me how 
 far we had to go. 
 
 I indicated the direction of our house. 
 
 " It 's a dreary place in winter," I said, " and 
 in any weather has a dismal out-of-the-way look 
 about it, which more particularly strikes strangers; 
 I am used to it." 
 
 " Then you have always resided with your 
 father?" 
 
 " Yes, my mother died before — just before papa's 
 troubles, and he has no one left to him but me. 
 
 VOL. i. m 
 
162 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 We came to Ingham when I was hut seven years 
 old, and I can rememher no other place." 
 
 " And perhaps it was hetter for you — you did 
 not experience the painfulness of the loss of such 
 a fortune at such an age." 
 
 " I think it was happier — at least I should have 
 been perfectly happy to be poor with papa, if he 
 were happy too." 
 
 "Ay, I do not wonder that he repines. He 
 was such a liberal, jolly country-gentleman, and 
 full of generosity and spirits — poor fellow ! " 
 
 " His health is broken, too," I continued sadly, 
 " as much as his spirits ; he is an old man 
 now." 
 
 Mr. Stirling quickened his pace, as if impatient 
 to arrive. 
 
 " How I wish I had known sooner," he said, 
 as if to himself, and then turning to me — 
 
 " Poor child ! " he exclaimed, with a look full 
 of benevolence and compassion, "you are very 
 young to have had so much sadness. It must 
 be lonely for you at Ingham. Have you no 
 friends here?" 
 
BY THE SEA. 163 
 
 " None, excepting Mr. Bean ; he has been very 
 kind to papa ; I have no other friend but one." 
 
 " And who is that?" asked Mr. Stirling, simply, 
 as if he were speaking to a child. 
 
 " Jeannie Dunstan." 
 
 " Ah, the Dunstans come here sometimes. I 
 remember Jeannie as a nice little girl: are they 
 very old friends of yours ? " 
 
 Then I told him the accident which had 
 brought us together. There was some hesitation 
 in my manner, and a flush upon my cheek, 
 for I had to mention Lindsay's name, and it 
 was awkward for me to speak of the time 
 when Mrs. Dunstan had visited Mr. Stirling's 
 house ; but I told him the whole history, and 
 he only smiled quietly and said — 
 
 a If Mrs. Dunstan leaves Jeannie to herself, 
 she will grow up a very amiable and estimable 
 woman." 
 
 " I believe she will." 
 
 " And so you know Mr. Bean," he continued, 
 
 68 and speak warmly of him of course. What 
 
 a virtuous and charitable man he is ! A little 
 
 M 2 
 
164 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 tcto speculative and visionary, perhaps; but no 
 matter, his alms find their way as easily from 
 his purse as the philosophical theories from his 
 brain. I don't believe the world holds a better 
 being. It 's quite a treat, Miss Warne, to find a 
 little pure gold in the world — there is so much 
 copper and counterfeit coin ; and the worst of 
 it is, all circulates well. We shall certainly have 
 a moral bankruptcy one day." 
 
 " I shall not lose much by it," I said, confidently : 
 " where I have hazarded most, I am surest." 
 
 Mr. Stirling smiled. 
 
 (i Take care," he answered : " those only are 
 safe who hazard nothing." 
 
 And I replied, almost gaily — 
 
 " I have no fear." 
 
 Then we walked on in silence, my companion 
 plucking handfuls of heath and wild-flowers as 
 he went along, and pulling them to pieces in 
 an abstracted mood. Now and then he stopped, 
 and seemed to take a mental sketch of every 
 feature of the scene ; and a deep, thoughtful 
 sadness seemed to have fallen over him. His 
 
BY THE SEA. 165 
 
 face grew paler and paler as we went on, and 
 he walked in a quick, nervous way; perhaps 
 he was thinking of all that had passed since he 
 and my father had last met, 
 
 " There is the house ! " I exclaimed, as it came 
 in sight. 
 
 He looked up eagerly. 
 
 The small white tenement, with its bleak 
 exterior and surroundings, standing as it did 
 in its solitariness, far from all habitation of 
 human kind, the little humble garden and patch 
 of flowers and vegetables around it; the unde- 
 fined sketch was easily filled up; and I saw 
 from Mr. Stirling's countenance that the sug- 
 gestions had revealed to him the whole sad 
 story. However he turned cheerfully to me, and 
 said — 
 
 " I cannot yet imagine, Miss Warne, how your 
 father came to fix his residence at Ingham; he 
 had so many friends in Essex." 
 
 "That was the principal reason — they were 
 only acquaintances; if they had been friends 
 I think he would have remained there." 
 
166 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " Ah, I understand you perfectly ; the Charlton 
 family were always noted for their pride, and 
 I suppose your father had imbibed it. How 
 time passes ! the last time I saw him, he had 
 just bought a coral and bells for his little heir, 
 Charlton he called it; he was then full of life 
 and spirits. And so the poor child died ? " 
 
 " Oh no ! I am his heir," I said sadly ; " he never 
 had a son." 
 
 Then we reached the house; and Mr. Stirling 
 followed me straight into papa's room. My 
 father sat in his arm-chair, by the window, looking 
 out in a sort of dreamy abstraction; his eyes 
 wore a wistful, perplexed expression, as if he 
 were striving vainly to clear his thoughts, and 
 his lips had a troubled look of restlessness and 
 indecision. How wasted and sorrowful and 
 careworn he was ! I dared not so much as glance 
 at Mr. Stirling ; I dreaded to see how much he 
 would be surprised and grieved. 
 
 " Father dear," I said, stepping forward, " here 
 is Mr. Stirling — he returned " 
 
 I could say no more, for the tears that stayed 
 
BY THE SEA. 167 
 
 my utterance, but no more was needed, and papa's 
 face was tearful and glad, like a little child's, 
 as he held out both his trembling hands to the 
 friend of a happy, happy time— a time past which 
 was to him as a buried world. 
 
168 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " Eighteen years ; it 's a long time ! " 
 
 My father rested his eyes on Mr. Stirling, 
 speculatively ; Mr. Stirling's rested on ine. 
 
 i( It is a long time, sir : that little girl of yours 
 is nearly a woman now — she was a baby then ; 
 I was a boy — I shall soon be an old man ; 
 eighteen years is a long time." 
 
 " You an old man?" said my father, doubtfully; 
 " you will not be an old man for years to come." 
 
 The other smiled. 
 
 " My dear sir, one may be old in feelings, 
 and yet not in age, you know. I do not reckon 
 by the common calendar of years, and months, 
 and days ; circumstances, and accidents, and 
 habits, effect in a short time the average wear 
 and tear of years. For my part, the date of an 
 
BY THE SEA. 169 
 
 individual's birthday gives me no idea whatever 
 of his age : this sounds paradoxical, but is it not 
 
 so r 
 
 9" 
 
 My father assented, and added wistfully — 
 
 " But you have been prosperous, very pro- 
 sperous." 
 
 He was thinking doubtless of rent-rolls, and 
 estates that had been handed down from countless 
 generations; Mr. Stirling was thinking of other 
 things, and smiled a sad smile. 
 
 I sat in a shaded corner, and studied his 
 features with earnestness. This was the man 
 who, for conscience-sake, had braved the scorn 
 and contumely of the world. Truly he was 
 greater than the greatest of kingdom-conquerors. 
 Was he thinking; of the sacrifice which had so 
 shadowed his life, so that sadness passed over 
 his features ? or was he rather thinking of the 
 littleness and poverty of that sacrifice, compared 
 with his large sin, and the suffering it had 
 brought. Oh yes ! it was of this last ; he was 
 not a man to judge vainly of himself, or to look 
 back with a regret upon a past resolution ; 
 
170 THE WHITE HOUSE ' 
 
 sensitiveness and refinement were traced in 
 delicate lines upon his face, but the power of an 
 imperial goodness and of an imperial will were 
 written there also, and in characters of stern, 
 majestic strength. The simplicity of a child was 
 written on that countenance, and the courage of 
 a lion — a wicked man must quail in fear before 
 it. 
 
 " Chatty, child," said my father, " draw back 
 the window curtain; Mr. Stirling can't see out; 
 isn't it a dreary prospect ? " 
 
 " The sky is very blue, and you have a glorious 
 view of the sea. I can imagine it looking dreary, 
 but to my eyes it is not so now ; lonely it may 
 be, but the pleasure-boats suggest the idea of 
 many dwelling-places near. No, Mr. Warne, I 
 have seen many a drearier place than this; 
 and," he added, placing a fatherly hand upon 
 my shoulder, " you are not alone." 
 
 "No, but it is wretched for the poor child, so 
 dull and bleak!" 
 
 Mr. Stirling put back the hair from my face, 
 and looked from me to my father, with a smile : 
 
BY THE SEA. 171 
 
 " She dull — dull with such a bright face as that ! 
 why, she looks as if she never knew that there 
 was such a word as ennui? 
 
 " Yes, she is high spirited, thank God, or she 
 would have died long ago," pursued papa, per- 
 sistently ; " and the place is dreadfully cold and 
 perishing in winter, I wonder she hasn't gone 
 into consumption; besides, it's the education I 
 regret more than anything ; she has had no 
 advantages, poor thing. Her mother used to 
 draw and play so prettily!" 
 
 " But I am not so very ignorant, papa," I 
 said, deprecatingly, and cast my eyes on the 
 ground with a blush. 
 
 "Bravo!" exclaimed Mr. Stirling, looking 
 amused, and drawing his chair opposite to mine. 
 " Bravo, my child, and now let 's hear what you 
 do know." 
 
 " She knows how to be as good as an angel 
 to me," interposed papa, but I held up my 
 finger to motion his silence. 
 
 " Ay, I could guess that, and that alone is 
 worth all the learning in the world; but come, 
 
172 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 little one, tell me what is jour favourite reading, 
 or rather who are your favourite authors?" 
 
 I reflected for a few minutes, and answered — 
 
 " Shakespeare, Addison, Goldsmith, Burns, 
 and Thackeray." 
 
 " A goodly galaxy, truly, and you have a fine 
 taste — a sound — good English taste of your own ; 
 and now tell me why you have chosen these 
 particular five?" 
 
 " I can hardly tell ; I think because I can 
 turn to their books with the same pleasure and 
 never tire." 
 
 " Well done, you have defined your reason 
 accurately and justly. Why, Mr. Warne, she 
 can like a good book and tell you why ; this 
 is better than all the piano -rattlings and water 
 colour abortions in the world, and the music 
 and drawing that young ladies learn is, in nine 
 cases out of ten, little better than this. My dear 
 friend, don't wish your Chatty to be any other 
 than she is." 
 
 Then he turned to me, and entered so kindly 
 and interestedly into my pursuits and thoughts, 
 
BY THE SEA. 173 
 
 that I felt at once how dear and valuable a 
 friend I had found. 
 
 When he rose to go, my father held out both 
 his thin hands with a wistful expression. 
 
 "You will come again soon," he said; "do 
 come when you can ; I haven't seen the face of 
 a friend for years, and I like — I like to talk over 
 the old days." 
 
 " Oh, I will come often, depend on it ; and 
 we will have another argument about Lord John 
 Russell, and Palmerston, and the Peace Question ; 
 perhaps I shall be able to beat you then, only 
 your little Chatty, there, keeps you so well up 
 in all the public news, that my chance is lessened 
 considerably." 
 
 My father looked at me fondly and proudly. 
 " Yes, she 's a good girl ; she always reads 
 me the s Times' from beginning to end. There 
 have been no less than thirty gold watches lost 
 this month. How careless people are ! I have 
 had mine this five-and-twenty years." 
 
 He pulled it out, and was much pleased at 
 Mr. Stirling's praise of it. Somehow, one's own 
 
174 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 watch is always the best goer in the world. 
 Papa's was, though to my perfect knowledge 
 there never was a week when it did not either 
 lose or gam. 
 
 Mr. Bean had said rightly. Mr. Stirling's 
 society did work wonders on papa ; it was always 
 something to look forward to with pleasure, then 
 arose again the old, warm cordiality and a real 
 and lasting interest. Mr. Stirling had a wonder- 
 ful tact in conversation ; an art I should rather 
 call it, though he was so simple and unaffected 
 in everything that even that word is not properly 
 applicable. He did not console papa when he 
 gave him a long dissertation on his manifold 
 grievances and injustices, knowing very well 
 how useless consolation would be, but listened 
 in silence and led him on gradually and easily 
 to other topics, and he always contrived that the 
 topics should be interesting to him. The more 
 I saw of him the more I found how far from 
 reality my preconceived opinions of him had 
 been. Because he was a wise and a o-ood man 
 I had fancied he must be quite different in every 
 
BY THE SEA. 175 
 
 respect to the common herd of mortals ; I had 
 looked for philosophical reflections and moral 
 axioms to fall from his lips continually, and that 
 he was superior to all the trifling enjoyments 
 and vexations which so much engross the mind 
 of most people. Never had I been more mis- 
 taken ; a wise and a good man he certainly was, 
 but he was by no means a philosopher, still less 
 a moralist ; his conversation was essentially 
 playful and varied, at the same time ; without 
 being grave, it was always earnest and always 
 original. And I believe that his conversation 
 was eminently characteristic, although there were 
 some under-currents and depths in his nature- to 
 which he seldom, if ever, gave utterance. 
 
 My father was still unable to come down-stairs, 
 but even to see him sit in his arm-chair and 
 look out of the window and scold at the gulls 
 as in the " old, old fashion," was a very grateful 
 sight to me; but he did not scold at them so 
 much as he used to do, his thoughts were more 
 occupied in counting the chances of a visit from 
 Mr. Stirling; and, if there was the least probability 
 
176 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 of it, lie was content to do nothing all day but 
 watcli for him. 
 
 " Chatty/' he said one day to me, " how long did 
 you say it was now till Mrs. Dunstan's visit ? " 
 
 " Six weeks, papa." 
 
 " Oh, six weeks ; I hope the time will pass 
 slowly till then." 
 
 "Why so, father?" 
 
 " I shan't know how to miss you, Chatty, I 
 should be so miserable alone." 
 
 " I won't go often ; I would rather stay at 
 home with you." 
 
 " Yes, I know you would ; but it will be so 
 wretched for me to think that I am keeping you 
 from the only society and the only pleasure you 
 can have, and yet I can't bear to have you out 
 of my sight. Oh, my child, better for you if 
 I had died that night!" 
 
 At tins moment Ellice appeared with a basketful 
 of fruit which Mr. Bean had just sent to me, and 
 for the next half-hour papa's attention was wholly 
 taken up in helping me to peel apples for a pie. 
 A little while after Mr. Stirling came. 
 
BY THE SEA. 177 
 
 "All, here you are," he said, as he entered; 
 " it 's just as I expected — Chatty reading the news, 
 and Mr. Warne scolding at Lord John Russell 
 with all his might. Always at the post of duty, 
 Chatty, like a true soldier." 
 
 "Yes, she's a great deal too good to me; you 
 do not half know how good she is," said my father, 
 tenderly. " Poor Chatty, it 's a poor service that 
 you're in." 
 
 "An honourable one, however," Mr. Stirling 
 added, with a smile; "you have just decorated 
 her with a bright star, I'm sure." 
 
 " And a very hard service," my father continued. 
 
 " But scars are honourable as well as stars, you 
 know," and then he turned to me — " Have you 
 been out for a walk to-day ? " 
 
 "No," I answered, blushing guiltily. 
 
 " Then put on your bonnet and go directly." 
 
 I hesitated ; it was a kind thought of Mr. 
 Stirling's, but not a welcome one. I would much 
 rather have given up the walk than the pleasure 
 of his society, but it was very difficult for me to 
 tell him so ; he might have guessed it. 
 
 vol. i. n 
 
178 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " She will get ill, I am sure," said my father, 
 " by staying within doors so much. Chatty, you 
 must take more care of yourself; your health is 
 of more consequence than mine." 
 
 There was no help for it; so, unwillingly 
 enough, I left the room to prepare for my ramble. 
 As I returned Mr. Stirling came out of the gate. 
 
 "Is it not a pleasant evening?" he said; "come 
 now, Chatty, you have not had half fresh air 
 enough yet ; turn back a little way with me; that 's 
 right, I thought you would. I want to have a 
 little talk with you very much ; well, to begin — in 
 the first place, I think I see a sensible improve- 
 ment in your father's spirits." 
 
 " I am very, very glad. I have thought so too 
 at times." 
 
 "You say at times; then the improvement is 
 variable ? " 
 
 " Yes, at least I fear so ; he is always so much 
 better after one of your visits." 
 
 Mr. Stirling's face brightened, and I continued — 
 
 " I cannot express to you how grateful I am 
 for your " 
 
BY THE SEA. 179 
 
 " Don't say a word more. I can assure you 
 that the consciousness of being in the smallest 
 degree serviceable to my old friend brings me 
 more happiness than I can anyhow confer. He 
 was doing the very worst thing for himself when 
 he resolved upon this Ingham seclusion, for 
 solitude is a medicine that very few constitutions 
 can stand. London would have been better, 
 or any other large town; for in a large commu- 
 nity it is possible to live quite quietly, and 
 observe the crowd and stir of activity going on 
 around." 
 
 i( I have often thought so ; poor papa has been 
 very solitary." 
 
 " And it must be lonely for you too." 
 
 "Yes, I have felt inclined to be discontented 
 with the sameness and dulness of my life, at times ; 
 but not lately — not since " 
 
 " Since that adventure that brought you and 
 Jeannie Dunstan together, I presume," Mr. 
 Stirling said, with a smile : " and how long ago 
 is that?" 
 
 " Two years this autumn." 
 
 N 2 
 
180 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " Ah, they were staying in my house at the 
 time, then. I remember something about it ; and 
 that Lindsay Joeelyn came in, covered with 
 rain and mud, but I was occupied at the time, 
 and made very few inquiries. How little did 1 
 dream that Inglis Warne was living in the 
 lonely place he described to me ! " 
 
 I turned to go now, for it was drawing time 
 for papa's supper. 
 
 " Good evening, Chatty. Never pass a day 
 without a good run, there 's a good child, it is so 
 necessary to you. I shall bring up my little Ned 
 next Sunday afternoon, and then you will be 
 obliged to keep out with him, to see that he doesn't 
 tumble in the water, or fall from the rocks. But 
 will you be at home ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am sure of it." 
 
 " Then you have not imbibed Mr. Vasey's 
 idea, that without a treble church service 
 attendance, a Sunday is very badly and irre- 
 ligiously spent ? " 
 
 " Oh no, I believe I can see my duty pretty 
 clearly. I hope I can." 
 
BY THE SEA. 181 
 
 "I am sure you do, but Mr. Vasey has no 
 theory of duty — only as connected with the 
 observances and regulations of the Church ! the 
 more's the pity — and error." 
 
 " And a good many others agree with 
 him." 
 
 " Yes, it is very sad ! there is no longer a spirit, 
 but a Church worship. It is astonishing to see 
 how little humility, and how little real love and 
 vitality exists in the human mind universally. 
 It is only by the occasional breath of a mighty 
 spirit that the spark is kept alive — but good 
 night, my dear child ; little Ned never likes to 
 go to bed till he has said good night and his 
 prayers to me, and I am sure Mr. Warne will 
 be wanting you." 
 
 Mr. Stirling came on Sunday, as he had promised, 
 and brought his little Ned with him — a merry, 
 rosy child, with something of his father 's openness 
 and nobility of character written on his in- 
 fantine features. We were the best of friends, 
 Ned and I, for I always loved children; and 
 
182 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 when it was time to go, he put his little arms 
 around my neck, and lisped forth — 
 
 " Me come again soon, Tatty." 
 
 And after that Sunday, Mr. Stirling seldom 
 came alone. 
 
BY THE SEA. 183 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 The summer was passing now, and no one can 
 tell how I longed for the autumn, when I should 
 see him once again. Every morning I awoke 
 with the glad thought, " Another day nearer to 
 Lindsay ; " every night I went to bed, thankful 
 that the day was gone. My father grew much 
 better ; I had no present cause for anxiety, and 
 my spirits arose with the elasticity of youthful- 
 ness and hope. I did not distract myself with 
 the thought that my love was in vain ; I did not 
 question the truthfulness and goodness of the 
 one I loved; I believed him to be brave, and 
 gallant, and noble ; and for the time I was very 
 happy. It was quite a holiday of peace and 
 joyousness, after the long watchings and anxiety ; 
 
184 THE WHITE HOESE 
 
 and I basked in to-day's sun, and never thought 
 of to-morrow. 
 
 Mr. Stirling 's goodness, no words of mine can 
 express ; his name ought to be written in letters 
 of gold all through this book. His generosity 
 was as profuse and unlimited as the bountiful 
 rains from Heaven, but with the generosity was 
 mingled a delicacy of mind incredible ; he would 
 rather have cut off his right hand than hurt the 
 feelings of the poorest of mankind. And he 
 would often eschew the pleasure of giving, from 
 an over-scrupulous fear that his gifts might 
 wound. Never had I seen so much refinement 
 and so much uprightness combined. Heaven 
 bless him ! 
 
 He would bring, day after day, little baskets 
 of rare fruit, or delicacies, in his own hands, and 
 set them down in the hall, that they should not 
 be discovered till he was gone — so much did 
 he abhor an ostentation of liberality; and if I 
 attempted to thank him, he would raise his hand, 
 in an attitude of such imploring, deprecative, and 
 positive distress, that I was forced to desist. 
 
BY THE SEA. 185 
 
 One day the weather had been sultry and 
 oppressive, but Mr. Stirling never stood for the 
 weather; he came later than usual, however, 
 and when he rose to go, the sun had dropped 
 below the horizon. As I opened the door for 
 him, a groom, riding a splendid chestnut horse, 
 dashed up to the little gate ; he alighted at once, 
 and drew it near to Mr. Stirling. 
 
 " Oh, what a noble animal ! " I exclaimed, in 
 a rapture of admiration. " Sir, do wait a 
 moment, and let me tell papa to come and look 
 at him, he used to be so fond of horses." 
 
 a Hush ! " said Mr. Stirling, whilst a shade of 
 annoyance came over his features, " stay a mo- 
 ment, child. Jones, I gave no orders — " 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir, " interrupted the man respect- 
 fully, "but it was my mistress; she said you 
 had had so much walking to-day, sir." 
 
 " Oh, very well, that will do." 
 
 The man touched his cap, and turned homeward ; 
 and Mr. Stirling led the horse gently on to the 
 strip of turf outside the garden, and sprang lightly 
 into the saddle. He held out his hand to me : 
 
186 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " You can guess why I did not wish your 
 father to see the horse, can you not, Chatty ? 
 Your very argument for, was mine against it. He 
 used to be a glorious rider, and kept a magnifi- 
 cent stud. It would wake up a thousand sorrow- 
 ful thoughts. Oh, I wouldn't have such a thing 
 happen, for the world ! " 
 
 And this was but one instance of a consideration 
 and rare perception of the feelings of others, 
 which we witnessed daily. 
 
 There was still one thing which now and then 
 sent a sharp pain through my heart. Since 
 papa's last illness, he seemed to be more child- 
 lessly helpless than he formerly was, and his 
 memory was strangely gone. His spirits were 
 better than I had ever seen them ; his health and 
 appetite were better also, but ever and anon he 
 would wake up from a reverie, as if from a sleep, 
 and ask a question about things which had passed 
 and gone years ago; sometimes he would call 
 me Helen, and then he would correct himself 
 hastily with a melancholy smile. Yet I hardly 
 knew whether I had any right to be alarmed; 
 
BY THE SEA. 187 
 
 never had he been as calm, and unrepining, and 
 placid as he was now. Never had my home-life 
 been so tranquil. 
 
 The golden August sunlight flecks the hushed 
 waves of the sea, and floods our little room with 
 a glory ; a broken ray falls on my father 's head, 
 like a halo. Ah, how much there yet remains 
 to tell of former strength and former dignity in 
 that pale face and wasted form ! I am kneeling 
 by his side, and read from a favourite and old 
 volume which lies upon his knees, with his arm 
 drawn fondly around me. 
 
 " What interest hath this empty world in me ; 
 and what is there in it that may seem so lovely 
 as to entice my desires from my God, or make 
 me loth to come away? Methinks when I 
 look upon it with a deliberate eye, it is a howling 
 wilderness, and too many of its inhabitants are 
 untamed monsters. I can view all its beauty as 
 deformity, and drown all its pleasures in a few 
 penitent tears ; or the wind of a sigh will scatter 
 them away. Oh, let not this flesh so seduce my 
 
188 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 soul as to prefer this weary life before the joys 
 that are about Thy throne ! And though death 
 itself be unwelcome to Nature, yet let Thy grace 
 make Thy glory appear to me so desirable that 
 the King of Terrors may be the messenger of 
 
 my joy!" 
 
 Papa drew me suddenly closer to him, and 
 kissed my forehead. 
 
 " Dearie," he said tenderly, " if it were not 
 for you, death would indeed be the messenger of 
 my joy. I am so tired, oh, so tired ! yet I would 
 fain stay a little longer with my Chatty. Heaven 
 forgive me, if I love you too much, my child." 
 
 At this moment a long shadow fell across the 
 room ; I looked up and saw Mr. Stirling ; he had 
 got a heap of books and periodicals under his 
 arm, and laid them on the table with a pleased 
 look at my sparkling eyes. 
 
 " Ah ! I knew you would be glad to get them ; 
 there's meat and drink for you for weeks to 
 come; only don't overdose yourself with one 
 commodity ; divide your intellectual dinner 
 between meat and apple-pie. Do you under- 
 
BY THE SEA. 189 
 
 stand? 'Ne quid minis/ you know, and read 
 sometimes for amusement as well as instruction." 
 Then he seated himself by papa. 
 
 " Do you know what I was thinking of when 
 you came in?" asked papa, gravely. "I was 
 thinking that if it were not for her, I should 
 be glad to die. I have lived long enough. I 
 am weary of everything." 
 
 " Don't say that. What a happiness it must be 
 for you to see your child growing up as she is, 
 to be so good, clever, and graceful." 
 
 My father's eyes rested affectionately on 
 me. 
 
 " Yes, I could not wish her to be better than 
 she is, and of late she has grown to be the image 
 of Helen, only Helen was taller. But the eyes, 
 and mouth, and forehead! They are Helen's 
 own, and so pretty, too." 
 
 " And you have a great many things to enjoy 
 besides." 
 
 " But consider how much I have lost ! " my 
 father answered gloomily. "I have been most 
 unfortunate." 
 
190 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " My dear friend, I think that very few can say 
 they have been most unfortunate." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " Unfortunate is such a comprehensive term ; 
 and I am one of those who believe that there is 
 hardly such a word at all. The only black 
 misery in the world is the shadow of a past sin; 
 temporary sorrows and troubles, of course, fall to 
 the lot of each, but after a time the clouds which 
 have obscured our sight fall away, and we see in 
 them the Mighty Hand of a Providence only." 
 
 " I wish I could see things so." 
 
 " It is difficult to you doubtless to look upon 
 your losses, and afflictions, and trials, and say — 
 e These are all good ! ' for few, perhaps, have been 
 as much tried as yourself, but you can believe it, 
 can you not ? I think that no one can look for one 
 minute abroad, either in the material or moral 
 world, without believing it." 
 
 "You are right; you are right!" exclaimed 
 papa, with emotion. "I have no right to 
 complain; it's worse for Chatty than for me, just 
 in the best days of her youth as she is ! " 
 
BY THE SEA. 191 
 
 "And Chatty has taken no harm," Mr. 
 Stirling continued, with a smile; "she is good, 
 and intelligent, and happy. Look at her now, 
 how bright she looks over those books. Would 
 a stranger say she had the appearance of one 
 whose life had been so dreary and nun-like as 
 you have pictured it ? Oh no, Chatty has much 
 to be thankful for also, and she thinks so, I am 
 sure." 
 
 Papa was very grave and tranquil that night 
 after Mr. Stirling was gone, I felt almost inclined 
 to be alarmed at his abstracted, musing manner ; 
 but the abstractedness was no new thing of late, 
 and the thoughtfulness perhaps only arose from 
 the evening's conversation, I went to bed 
 thankful. 
 
192 TIIE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 To-moreow Lindsav and I shall meet again. 
 Autumn has come at last, and with it the golden 
 harvest of hopes long sown. To-morrow will 
 bring back the old happiness; Jeannie has 
 written to ask me to spend the first evening with 
 them, and the first would be to-morrow. 
 
 It was very difficult for me to realize the full 
 extent of the happiness that was so near. I had 
 longed for it so passionately that I could hardly 
 believe in a few hours only it would all be poured 
 into my heart. To-morrow I should meet him 
 again ! I did not wonder or question whether he, 
 too, anticipated the meeting; I did not trouble 
 myself with the thought that perhaps I was 
 flinging to the winds and waves all the deep love 
 and tenderness of mv nature. I did not fear for 
 
BY THE SEA. 193 
 
 the future. I gave way to intense hopefulness 
 and blissfulness only, and said over and over in 
 my mind — - 
 
 " To-morrow I shall see him again." 
 
 At length I took up my candle to say good-night 
 to papa. . The "honey heavy dew of slumber" 
 seemed far from my eyelids yet, and of late it had 
 been my habit, before retiring to rest, to visit his 
 room. If he were wakeful or restless I read him 
 to sleep, and if his lips were parched I mixed him 
 a draught of lemonade, so he always looked for 
 me before settling for the night. 
 
 u Is that you, Chatty ? " he said, as I entered ; 
 " I don't believe I shall ever go to sleep to-night, 
 it is so hot and oppressive ; come and sit by me, 
 my dearie, for a little while." 
 
 I seated myself by the bedside, and took both 
 his hands between my own ; they were cold and 
 trembling. 
 
 "What a good child you have been to me, 
 Chatty ; oh, how often I Ve wished that I might 
 get well, and be of some comfort to you ; but I 
 never shall now ; I don't think I shall live long, 
 
 vol. I. o 
 
194 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 I feel so old and worn out; and to-night, somehow, 
 I feel a sort of thickness and darkness come over 
 me, as if I could neither see, nor remember any- 
 thing." 
 
 " Let Ellice 2:0 for Mr. Bean ! " I said, 
 terribly alarmed at the strangeness of his look 
 and manner. 
 
 " No ; I dare say it 's nothing — nothing that his 
 medicines can restore ; but I have felt this 
 coming on for some days, — a sort of weariness 
 and weakness. Oh, Chatty, my dear, patient, 
 angel child, forgive me ! — forgive me all the 
 sadness and heaviness I have brought upon 
 
 you." 
 
 I could not speak for the tears which streamed 
 down my cheeks ; but I kissed him, over and over 
 again. 
 
 "You will be left all alone, dearie; it's a hard 
 lot, for one so young to be in the world without 
 father, mother, or sister ; but you will be happy ? 
 promise me that you will try and be happy, dear, 
 for my sake." 
 
 " You will not leave me yet! — father, you must 
 
BY THE SEA. 195 
 
 not leave me yet ! " I exclaimed, in an agony of 
 passionate grief. 
 
 " No, I would not leave yon if I could stay ; I 
 am tired of living, but I would fain stay with you, 
 my poor Chatty. I pray God for life, for your 
 sake, but I do not think it can last long now. Oh, 
 you have been so good to me ! all these long years 
 of poverty, and all my gloominess and fretfulness, 
 you have borne like an angel. I should be glad to 
 go, if it were not that I left you behind ! I am so 
 tired of everything, and I feel as if I were going 
 back to Arrowmere. Poor Helen ! how she cried 
 to part from me ; for our life was all sunshine and 
 prosperity then. I shall soon meet her again now/' 
 
 " Oh, papa, papa ! " I said, piteously, and threw 
 my arms around him. " What can I do without 
 you ? You will not leave me yet ? " 
 
 He wept bitterly now, and clasped me to his 
 bosom as if he would not let me go : 
 
 " It will be lonely for you, and you will be 
 so poor too. Oh, my darling, my darling ! " 
 
 After a few minutes, he grew calmer, and 
 said, in an unnatural voice of composure — 
 
 O 2 
 
196 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " Mr. Stirling will always be kind to you, and 
 so will Mr. Bean ; in any trouble you have some 
 one to go to, thank God : and Mr. Stirling has 
 promised to try and get a higher interest for 
 the money, and you will then be able to manage ; 
 and he told me, that if you wouldn't mind, he 
 would send his little boy, by and by, for you to 
 teach. I Ye thought it would be an amusement to 
 you." For a short time he paused, and then said : 
 
 " I know I have often complained against God's 
 providence; but He will forgive it. He will 
 forgive it all, for the sake of my good, uncomplain- 
 ing, dutiful Chatty ! God bless you, my child ! 
 and He will. You will always be happy, dearie, 
 because you have been so good to me." 
 
 Then his head sank back on the pillow, and 
 he seemed to sleep. 
 
 Yet there was no breathing ! 
 
 I uttered a loud cry, a call upon his name — a 
 call of love, and anguish, and despair, but it 
 had no power to disturb that awful sleep. Oh ! 
 was this some hideous nightmare, from which I was 
 wakening; and only a dream that I was left all alone? 
 
BY TEE SEA. 197 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 It is a terrible thing to awake to the consciousness 
 of having lost a friend whose place none other 
 can fill ; to feel that the beloved being to whom 
 your love and presence was necessary, no longer 
 needs that love — no longer is sensible of that 
 presence; that the face that gladdened at your 
 coming, and the weary form which leant upon 
 you for support, are alike gone "to house with 
 
 darkness," and with death, to silence, to we 
 
 know not what. 
 
 At such a time, when the first awe and the 
 first wondering at the mysterious change has 
 passed away, it is an especial comfort to think 
 that we have done our duty — a heavy grief to 
 remember an unkind or a careless word: and 
 
198 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 it seems to us if, could the opportunity return 
 again, we would be doubly watchful, doubly 
 loving, doubly tender. But it is too late now ; 
 the dear object of our love, and of our sorrow, 
 is gone down to the grave, and alike his cares, 
 his affections, his injuries with him. No kindness 
 can reach him, and no sorrow : in this last I take 
 comfort. 
 
 I had very kind friends in my heavy affliction ; 
 and their consolations were of that quiet, unob- 
 trusive nature, which were best calculated to 
 soften the bitterness of my heart. Mr. Bean, 
 with a delicacy of feeling which was peculiarly 
 characteristic, took upon himself at once all the 
 ordering and arranging of the last sad office 
 to the dead, and negatived any interposition of 
 mine, with an authoritative — 
 
 " Yes, we '11 make it right between us, by and 
 by." 
 
 Mrs. Bean, in a more ostentatious and business- 
 like way, but with as much real kindness, directed 
 the making of my mourning, and did a dozen 
 little services for me, for which she would take 
 
BY THE SEA. 199 
 
 no thanks. Even poor old Mr. Binnie could not 
 hear of my loss without coining all the way from 
 the Library after his day's work was done, to 
 sympathise with me. But to Mr. Stirling I owed 
 most of all. He understood my loneliness and 
 my grief without the medium of words ; and. 
 knowing all my past history, did not strive to 
 console me; for there is no consolation for such 
 sorrow as mine, but the thought that the beloved 
 one was beyond the reach of all change and 
 trouble. And withal he was so gentle, so kind, 
 and so father-like; that I could feel how much 
 he entered into the solitude and sadness of my 
 inner-life ; he used to enter the house, unan- 
 nounced, as though he considered himself at 
 home, and greeted me with a few quiet words, 
 that implied a deeper kindness and interest than 
 they expressed ; and without harping too much on 
 the melancholy chords, he did not, as every one 
 else did, draw an impenetrable barrier between 
 the time that was gone and the present. After a 
 day or two, he brought little Ned with him ; the 
 sight of the child's healthful, beautiful face. 
 
200 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 subdued and serious, filled my eyes with tears; 
 and they fell faster and faster, when he jumped 
 on my knees, and throwing his little arms around 
 me lisped forth — 
 
 " Don't cry— don't cry, Tatty dear." 
 One day, the first after the dreary week of 
 seclusion and stillness, Jeannie came to see me. 
 I had been sitting by the sea-side alone, 
 watching the blue waves, and trying to clear 
 the mists and indistinctness which enveloped my 
 future, when before I could perceive the sound 
 of a footstep, a shadow flecked the sand, and a 
 warm tearwet face was pressed to mine. Ah, 
 how happy I was to meet her ! but for the first few 
 moments, neither of us could speak for our sorrow 
 and our joy. 
 
 " It seemed as if the time would never come," 
 Jeannie said, holding my hand, and looking into 
 my eyes with a glad smile ; " oh, I have so longed 
 to see you, Chatty; and all last week I kept 
 thinking of you, and would have come, only 
 mamma would not let me ; she said I did not 
 know etiquette at all — but you would have 
 
BY THE SEA. 201 
 
 forgiven all the errors of etiquette for the sake 
 of my love, would you not ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes!" 
 
 " I said so. Dear, dear Chatty, how glad I 
 am to see you ; don't look quite so sorrowful — 
 oh, I am so sorry you have lost your dear 
 father, you must be very lonely ; I wish I could 
 help to make you happy ; I 'in not much use to 
 you." 
 
 How pretty Jeannie looked then ! a shadow 
 of sadness overspread her graceful and delicate 
 features, but it only seemed to heighten the 
 expression and character of the face, and it was 
 a face that always took the hue of her passing 
 thoughts and emotions. This was its chief 
 attractiveness, though there was a great deal of 
 loveliness, independently of expression, in the 
 brightness and glossiness of her well-arranged 
 hair, in the clearness and sparkle of her eyes, 
 in the rosiness and beauty of her complexion, and 
 in the deep red and beautiful archness of her lips. 
 
 I took her hands in mine, and pressed them 
 affectionately. 
 
202 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " You are of use to me, Jeannie — of more use 
 than I can tell you; whom have I to love me 
 but yourself?" 
 
 " You must come and see us very often, 
 Chatty ; a little society will drive away your 
 sad thoughts, and you must come and stay with 
 us by and by. We have no one with us yet, 
 but we shall soon have a housefull, and you 
 will come then, I know, to oblige me. Lindsay 
 can't stay with us, but he has promised to run 
 down often on the Saturday evening to spend 
 Sunday with us — won't it be nice ? How 
 delightful it is to be at Ingham again ! 
 What would I not give to make you happy, 
 Chatty!" 
 
 " You do a great deal towards it," I said, 
 fondly stroking her hair. 
 
 Jeannie shook her head sadly. 
 
 u Not much — not much," she said, in a mourn- 
 ful voice ; " I cannot bring back to you what 
 you have lost." 
 
 After a few minutes' silence she brightened up 
 again. 
 
BY THE SEA. 203 
 
 " When will you begin French and German ? 
 I can speak French very well, but I am afraid 
 you will soon be before me with the other." 
 
 " How kind you are, Jeannie ! but I don't 
 think I can tell you yet : not till I shall have 
 made the arrangements." 
 
 " Arrangements ?" 
 
 " Yes ; my father has not left me sufficient 
 to live upon ; I must do something to earn 
 some money — or give up my home and — get a 
 situation as a governess — or anything." 
 
 Jeannie covered her face with her hands and 
 sobbed bitterly. 
 
 When Jeannie was gone, I had a long reflec- 
 tion with regard to my future life. One thing 
 was certain — if I failed in my endeavour to 
 obtain employment and remuneration in the 
 town or neighbourhood of Ingham, I must seek 
 it elsewhere, and give up my home. For a long 
 time I resolved in my mind the advantages and 
 disadvantages of either alternative. The excite- 
 ment and enterprise of boldly seeking my way 
 in the world would have had much allurement 
 
204 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 for my adventuresome spirit, only of late years 
 Ingham had become dear to my heart. Memory 
 and hope shed a halo over it — imagination and 
 reality endeared it. Oh no ! however hard or 
 humble my lot might be in the lone White 
 House by the Sea I would never, never leave 
 it — unless, indeed, a hard necessity should compel 
 me. The remembrances of the friend who was 
 gone, the charm which Lindsay's presence had 
 thrown round it, Jeannie's love, and Mr. Stirling's 
 friendship — I resolved to try very earnestly for 
 success, rather than lose all these. 
 
 But I could not go to Mrs. Dunstan's jet, I 
 was so utterly stunned and stricken by my sudden 
 loss, that for a while all other feelings and 
 thoughts were merged in the one great sorrow. 
 At night I went to sleep weeping, and in the 
 morning I awoke from sad dreams to a sadder 
 reality ; sometimes, whilst musing alone, I fancied 
 I heard the sound of his voice and step, and started 
 with a vague joy, as if I must be dreaming still ; 
 
BY THE SEA. 205 
 
 then the truth would dawn upon me — he is 
 dead ; and my tears would fall again. 
 
 He was gone then! I was an orphan now; 
 with not one being in the world bound to my 
 heart by the strong, sweet claims of relation- 
 ship. Mother, father, brother, sister — oh, how I 
 envied the grateful names ! It was hard to be 
 left alone in the world, young as I was ; to feel 
 that I must rely on myself henceforth, in trouble 
 and in suffering ; that I had no one whose whole 
 life in joy and sadness was alike linked to my 
 own. True I had friends — kind, true loving 
 friends — but in their world of home and heart 
 I was second only, and I could not reasonably 
 expect it to be otherwise. Jeannie loved me 
 faithfully and fondly, but Jeannie was .growing 
 to be a woman; she would soon enter deeply 
 into a large and wide circle of enticing society ; 
 she would doubtless marry — fair and gentle and 
 winning as she was : then I should not be second 
 in her heart, even. And Mr. Stirling: dear 
 kind friend, am I ungrateful for your friendship 
 and benevolence ? I trust not, yet alas, how can 
 
206 THE "WHITE HOUSE 
 
 I show my gratitude and love ! your Heart is 
 filled with the tender and endearing attachment 
 of wife and child, your cup runneth over with 
 blessings, and I cannot add one crystal drop to 
 its fulness. Thus, even in my friendships I am 
 unhappy, for I can repay them only with prayers 
 to God. 
 
 And the one to whom my voice was music, and 
 my face sunshine ; to whom I was more than all 
 the world beside, and dearer than life itself — 
 and yet even whose deep love mine could repay ; 
 he was gone. I should never see him again, 
 never hear the tones of his voice, or the sound 
 of his step — never, never more, and my life might 
 extend to long years. 
 
 When the evenings were fair, I gathered the 
 choicest flowers from our little garden, and laid 
 them on the new-made grave. The churchyard 
 was lonely and remote, the blue sky was above 
 me, and the dark sea rolled around ; but in the 
 vastness and grandeur of the scene there was no 
 one to see my grief. Looking upon his grave 
 made me feel how divided I was from him who 
 
BY THE SEA. 207 
 
 had so loved me ; my heart seemed breaking with 
 its weight of grief, and I buried my face in my 
 hands and cried — - 
 
 " Papa, papa ! oh, why did you leave me ? " 
 I sat down on the grass, and covered the flowers 
 with tears and kisses. Meet sacrifices were 
 they to place upon the altar of human love; 
 beautiful as they are, like mortal affections over 
 which death hath power for a time, and which 
 yet are imperishable and will live again, still 
 more beautiful and purified. 
 
 " Father, has the grave so much divided us 
 then ? have you no part in the life of your 
 child ? Do I weep bitterly for you, and yet you 
 know it not ? and is there for ever, and for ever- 
 more, in this state of existence, a Lethe between 
 us two ? Oh no, no ! I cannot — I will not believe 
 it! Thy spirit speaks to me in the singing of 
 the silver waves, in the breeze that comes in at 
 my window, in the glimmer of the stars, and 
 the breath of flowers. What thou art now, and 
 through what hidden phases of being thou hast 
 moved, I know not ; but this I feel, that there is 
 
208 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 a link joining us, which even death could not 
 break asunder." 
 
 The thought gave me a calm serenity, yet as 
 I turned to go home, to the home where he was 
 not, again arose to my lips — 
 
 " I am all alone. Oh, why did you leave me ? 
 Why did you leave me?" 
 
BY THE SEA. 209 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 It is a cold evening in November. Very dreary 
 blows the wind round the casement, but it is 
 cheerful and bright enough in Mrs. Dunstan's 
 dining-room. When I say cheerful, I only speak 
 with regard to the aspect of the drawn crimson 
 curtains and the bright fire, for there was rather 
 a look of restraint and unsociableness in the party 
 assembled in it. Angelica sits beside me ; strange 
 that two people who have no one taste in common, 
 who feel no pleasure but rather stiffness and 
 constraint in each other's presence, it was very 
 strange that whenever I was at Mrs. Dunstan's 
 chance placed me in her near neighbourhood ; 
 I never sought her society, I rather avoided it, 
 and I am sure she did not seek mine ; still, so it 
 was, by some curious accident, that my chair 
 happened invariably to be the one next hers. 
 vol. i. P 
 
210 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 We did not say much to each other ; I tried to 
 talk several times, wishing to shake off the reserve 
 which amounted to prejudice between us, but it 
 was of no use. Yet why should it be so ? The 
 dinner-cloth is laid ; it has been already laid a 
 long time, but Lindsay is coming to-night and 
 we are waiting for him ; he is expected, every 
 minute, and there is a look of impatience and 
 an expectation expressed upon each face : but 
 differently — very differently. 
 
 Angelica is evidently anticipating the impres- 
 sion she shall make ; one can read that plainly 
 enough in the restlessness of her features and in 
 the coquettish glances she gives on the mirror 
 opposite ; but the confident smile on her lips looks 
 as if she felt little fear of success. 
 
 Perhaps she has reason. Certainly she looks 
 very handsome to-night in her gorgeous pink 
 silk dress and with sparkling jewels and gold 
 chains glittering on her, as though she were 
 some Indian princess. There is no softness about 
 her ; no gentleness speaking from her looks, and 
 no intellect ; character there is, but not a love- 
 
BY THE SEA. 211 
 
 able one. Still I must allow that she has beauty 
 and a good deal of it, although it is a haughty 
 imperious, wilful beauty that has no charms for 
 me — but I must turn my eyes and observations 
 elsewhere now, for her dark eyes flash upon me 
 as if she were reading my inmost thoughts. 
 
 How different are the two cousins ! Jeannie 
 is as simple, and unpretending, and natural as a 
 child; and her character shows itself in every 
 action and look. Lindsay is evidently in her 
 thoughts as much as in Angelica's, but there is 
 no ostentation and no effort at display in her 
 white dress and blue ribbons, and there is no 
 triumphant expression of vanity and coquetry on 
 her face ; Angelica never speaks of Lindsay, but 
 Jeannie has talked of him all day long ; and flits 
 ever and anon to the window, and stands listening 
 for the sound of wheels with her head peering 
 between the curtains. 
 
 The Rev. Decimus is not here to-night, but 
 his chair is not unfilled, and Mrs. Dunstan's 
 smiles and graces are by no means sparingly 
 bestowed upon his successor. Poor Mr. Dowley ! 
 
 p 2 
 
212 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 All hope is over for you, at least I fear so — for 
 the supplanter is dignified with a moustache, 
 and a title ! Count Civray de Perpini ! How 
 elegantly the name glides off Mrs. Dunstan's 
 tongue ! He is a distinguished foreigner whom 
 she met in Paris, and who was so enchanted with 
 her society that he has followed her to Ingham, 
 and established himself in the Marine Hotel. 
 Angelica is equally enchanted with him, but it is 
 curious that Jeannie and I should both participate 
 from the first in an indifference, I should rather 
 say an antipathy, to the smooth blandness and 
 excessive politeness which to them is so delightful. 
 But the Count is rather taciturn now ; and 
 takes out his watch every now and then, with a 
 look as much as to say, " I certainly do not 
 approve of waiting dinner for any one." And as 
 time wore on, by slow and steady minutes, the 
 look grew more and more to a — " Who is this 
 individual, that we are kept starving so long? 
 It 's a great deal too bad." Opposite to the fire, 
 with his head and apparently his whole mind 
 buried in the day's paper, sat another cousin of 
 
BY THE SEA. 213 
 
 Jeannie's, Ross Dunstan. I do not know yet 
 whether I quite like him, but I think I shall in 
 time ; at least Jeannie says — 
 
 " I don't think many people do like my cousin 
 Ross ; I never knew any one that did yet at first, 
 but every one has a great respect for him, and a 
 sort of fear; you know what I mean, Chatty. 
 He is not very sociable, or amiable, or pleasant, 
 like Lindsay, but he is as honourable and upright 
 as any one can be, and very clever too — when I 
 say clever I don't mean that he has any particular 
 talent as for writing, or music, or anything of 
 that sort, but I mean clever and sharp at every- 
 thing, and business-like." 
 
 This is his character as Jeannie draws it to 
 me, and at present I have had no opportunity 
 of judging further. His look is not very pre- 
 possessing ; but, though his features are irregular 
 and ungraceful, there is an expression of power 
 and originality about them which is as uncommon 
 as it is striking, and I long to know more of him. 
 
 " There he is ; there 's Lindsay at last ! " 
 exclaimed Jeannie, excitedly, clapping her hands 
 
214 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 for joy, and bounding out of the room to meet him 
 at the door. 
 
 She was not mistaken ; the wheels drew nearer, 
 and stopped. 
 
 Mrs. Dunstan touched the bell. 
 
 " Now we '11 have dinner," she said, turning 
 consolingly to the afflicted Count, whose face all 
 at once beamed with satisfaction. 
 
 Angelica reared herself up, and gave a final 
 smooth to her hair, and shake to her skirt ; Ross 
 dropped the paper, and stood up before the fire 
 reflectively ; I sat quite motionless and still, and 
 my colour went and came. 
 
 It was only two minutes that we waited; 
 whilst Lindsay took off his wrappers in the hall, 
 and cordially greeted Jeannie ; but in that two 
 minutes, a whole harvest of golden memories and 
 hopes flooded my heart. It was long since we 
 had met; and, though the hand of sorrow had 
 'been laid somewhat heavily on me since, the 
 depth and the earnestness of my love was in no 
 degree lessened or abated. Would he, like me, 
 remember the quiet happy evenings in the White 
 
BY THE SEA. 215 
 
 House by the Sea ? Ah ! even if he did 
 remember them, how unlike his recollections 
 would be to mine. 
 
 I bent my head over my book, and tried to still 
 the trembling of my heart, but the next minute 
 he entered, his handsome face lighted up with a 
 smile with the warm reception, and very gravely 
 submitting; to Mrs. Dunstan's lono; introduction to 
 the Count ; then she turned to me with a formal, 
 " Miss Warne— " 
 
 But Jeannie interrupted eagerly. 
 
 " Oh, mamma, Lindsay knows Chatty very 
 well ; don't you, Lindsay ? " 
 
 At which he came up to me, and offered his 
 hand with the thoughtful look that was so natural 
 to him. 
 
 " Yes, Chatty and I are old friends ; I am 
 very glad to find myself at Ingham again." 
 
 Then he added in a lower key: 
 
 " The sight of your black dress recalls to 
 my mind a very sad change that has taken place 
 since I was here last. I cannot tell you how 
 sorry I am." 
 
216 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 My eyes filled with tears, as I thanked him ; 
 then, after a few minutes more, we sat down to 
 dinner. The Count was very hungry, Mrs. 
 Dunstan and Angelica very gracious, and Jeannie 
 too much engrossed in the pleasure of seeing 
 Lindsay again, to think of anything else; her 
 face was turned up to his, radiant in its hap- 
 piness, whilst he asked her all about the school 
 in Paris, and her pursuits at Ingham. As 
 to Ross and myself, we were both somewhat 
 silent. 
 
 "Now, don't you think from my description, 
 that Chatty and I are going to lead a very happy 
 time of it all the winter ; and it won't be wasted 
 time either, will it, cousin Ross?" 
 
 " First tell me what you are going to do 
 Jeannie." 
 
 Here Angelica interposed with an energetic 
 and satirical laugh : 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Dunstan, pray don't ask. I advise 
 you from real kindness — " 
 
 Jeannie coloured with vexation, but Angelica 
 never succeeded in putting her down. 
 
BY THE SEA. 217 
 
 " And why ? Be more explicit, Angelica, please : 
 you wish to hear, do you not, Ross ? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 "So go on, Angelica : you just said cousin 
 Ross will be frightened — I don't think he 
 will." 
 
 Angelica's eyes flashed angrily. 
 
 " He cannot help admiring your scientific and 
 philosophical pursuits," she said, ironically : " only 
 fancy, Mr. Dunstan ; Latin, astronomy " 
 
 "And who is the Latin student?" asked Ross, 
 quietly. 
 
 " Oh, Chatty of course ; pray be careful how 
 you address yourself to Miss Charlton Warne; 
 there is nothing, according to Jeannie's account, 
 that she doesn't know." 
 
 " Angelica, how absurd you are ! " exclaimed 
 Jeannie with sparkling eyes, for she never lacked 
 spirit where she was brought to an encounter with 
 Angelica, more particularly if it regarded myself. 
 " Ross, it 's all nonsense, and don't you think that 
 it is better spent time, to try and gather knowledge, 
 than to " 
 
218 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 "Read novels all day long?" Ross added, with 
 a smile. " Oh, certainly." 
 
 " And Chatty is learning French and German," 
 Jeannie continued, warmly ; " and I am sure I 
 would rather spend a morning in helping her, 
 than I would over the cleverest novel that ever 
 was written." 
 
 Lindsay and Ross both smiled at Jeannie's 
 enthusiasm. Then Ross turned to me : 
 
 " What is your motive for being so studious ? " 
 he said, with a scrutinizing look. Lindsay looked 
 too, and I felt the ancestral pride rising within, 
 but I mastered it, and said very composedly — 
 
 " Necessity. I hope to turn them to a 
 profitable account." 
 
 At this moment every one moved from the 
 table. Lindsay drew me to the window. 
 
 " Dear Miss Warne — Chatty, if you will still 
 allow me to call you so. Oh, I am so very 
 sorry — you cannot, cannot mean what you were 
 saying just now?" 
 
 I shook my head gravely. 
 
 " There is no help for it ; I must do something, 
 
BY THE SEA. 219 
 
 to get some money ; I have not sufficient to live 
 upon." 
 
 He looked very grave ; then, darting a glance 
 round the room, rejoined in a gay tone — 
 
 " Well, we won't talk about it now ; let us enjoy 
 the present, and hope for everything. Come, 
 smile on me, Chatty : I want to bring back some- 
 thing of the former wild-rose to your cheek, and 
 sunshine to your eyes ; and I have looked forward, 
 I cannot tell you how much, to this meeting." 
 
 I bent my head down, to hide the rising 
 blushes. He stooped also. 
 
 " Will you not say one word of welcome ; will 
 you not tell me that you reciprocate this feeling," 
 he said, in a low voice, " if even in a small degree 
 only?" 
 
 cf I am very glad to see you, Lindsay." 
 
 "Thank you, thank you a thousand times; 
 to hear you call me by my name, as in by-gone 
 days, is indeed a pleasure. Ah, that was such 
 a pleasant summer, Chatty ! " 
 
 "And you have been very busy since then," 
 I said timidly. 
 
220 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " Dreadfully ; I have been working night and 
 day." 
 
 I looked up at him. Certainly there were no 
 traces of hard work or midnight study on his 
 handsome animated face, but then he had already 
 had a few days' holiday, and to the young and 
 robust, a short time suffices to make up for lost 
 vigour. How tall, and strong, and handsome, 
 he was ! 
 
 <c We barristers," he continued, " are not our 
 own property, but other people's, you see, and 
 are therefore supposed to have no wants and 
 necessities in common with other men, but a little 
 resting-time is before me now, thank Heaven ! and 
 I mean to enjoy it to the utmost, and there is one 
 thing which will add, more than all others, to my 
 enjoyment." 
 
 He looked at me earnestly, and added in an 
 under tone. 
 
 " Can you not guess what ?" 
 
 I shook my head doubtfully. 
 
 " The presence of one person. Oh, Chatty, you 
 can guess now, can you not ? " 
 
BY THE SEA. 221 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 " Sunday again ! " Angelica said, with a yawn ; 
 "what long dull days Sunday's are!" 
 
 Mrs. Dunstan sighed sympathetically. 
 
 " Yes, and longer here than anywhere ; in 
 London, one never need go to church unless 
 one likes." 
 
 " And I suppose we must, that 's the worse 
 of country places; one gets so overlooked and 
 noticed." 
 
 " It 's pleasant to be conspicuous too," Mrs. 
 Dunstan observed. 
 
 " Yes, but you pay dearly for it." 
 
 " But going to church is a duty we owe 
 to society, my love; and I am sure no one 
 can grow tired of Mr. Dowley's sermons." 
 
 Ross looked at me ; an involuntarv smile had 
 
222 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 risen to my lips, lie saw it, and his glance had 
 a meaning in it that I could read thoroughly ; we 
 both understood each other's thoughts. 
 
 " And/' Mrs. Dunstan continued, quite uncon- 
 sciously, " at Mr. Stirling's nothing grieved me so 
 much as his total indifference to religion. How 
 horrid for a man of his standing to be an 
 atheist !" 
 
 " What did you say Mr. Stirling was, mamma ?" 
 Jeannie asked, in a voice of bewilderment. 
 
 "An atheist, a deist, or something; I don't 
 know exactly what ! " Mrs. Dunstan exclaimed 
 impatiently. "I only know that he never goes 
 to church, and that he never put down his 
 name when the subscriptions were raised for 
 tract distribution, and district visiting. How 
 can people be so uncharitable, who have hearts 
 at all!" 
 
 " I don't think Mr. Stirling is uncharitable," 
 I said, decisively. 
 
 « Very likely not, Miss Warne ; people's ideas 
 differ so much about such things — " 
 
 " And Miss Warne has such extraordinary 
 
BY THE SEA. 223 
 
 notions," Angelica joined in, maliciously. " You 
 think Mr. Stirling a saint, don't you, Chatty?" 
 
 " I think him a good man, and a wise one," 
 I said, firmly. 
 
 " Bravo, bravo ! " Jeannie said, gleefully. 
 <( I should never wish for a better champion than 
 Chatty. If all the world ran Chatty's friend 
 down, she would not be a bit afraid. Would 
 you?" 
 
 Lindsay's eyes were on me ; Ross looked also. 
 
 " I hope not," I answered, blushing. 
 " And you would not," Ross said, impres- 
 sively. 
 
 When the breakfast party broke up, I withdrew 
 to one of the windows, and began to read. The 
 rest of the party were going to church, but 
 Jeannie had a headache, and entreated me to 
 stay with her, so there was a long morning before 
 me ; I took up an interesting work, resolving 
 to make it a pleasant one. 
 
 In a few minutes, I felt conscious of being alone 
 in the room with Lindsay. I could read no longer, 
 although my face was bent low over the pages, 
 
224 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 and my frame trembled violently. He had 
 changed his resolution, then? He rose and 
 approached me ; I dared not look up, but I heard 
 the movement, and in another second he was 
 standing in the same window-embrasure, leaning 
 on the panels, and looking down upon my face. 
 
 Did he guess that I loved him ? Had he read 
 the meaning of my troubled look and agitated 
 manner when he approached me ? I knew not ; 
 but I almost hoped that he returned my love, even 
 with a hope that was akin to believing. And oh, 
 what a blissfulness to be beloved by him ! It 
 seemed to me then, that if I possessed his love 
 I should be too happy — life would be a Paradise. 
 * " Studious Chatty, industrious Chatty," he said, 
 smilingly. 
 
 I put the book into his hands. 
 " Longfellow's ( Hyperion ! ' what a sweet book it 
 is. I have read it over and over again, and am 
 not tired of it yet." 
 
 " And I have never seen it till now, therefore 
 my treat is hardly begun ; it is a sweet book ; and 
 the reflections are so simple, and yet so true." 
 
BY THE SEA. 225 
 
 " Yes, they always seem like your own thoughts 
 put into shape. Do you dream much ?" 
 
 " I am afraid I do." 
 
 61 Afraid ? but do you not think dreaming is 
 pleasant?" 
 
 " Oh yes, but " 
 
 ee Waking must come, of course, but for myself, 
 I like to enjoy the dream while it lasts, and never 
 think of what 's coming." 
 
 " But very few have that faculty." 
 . "I believe it to be an uncommon one ; do you 
 not think with me, that such a temperament is the 
 most likely of any other to be happy?" 
 
 " There is no doubt of it" 
 
 " Then be my disciple." 
 
 " I have been so a long time, at least to a great 
 degree." 
 
 " I am rejoiced to hear it ; I feel assured you 
 will never find a better master." And I thought, 
 as he said this smilingly, that I should always 
 believe so too. 
 
 Then Jeannie entered. 
 
 Quickly, very quickly the minutes passed. I 
 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
226 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 had not a sad thought then, so strongly and so 
 entirely did my love for him usurp the sovereignty 
 of my heart. And he seemed pleased to be near 
 me, too ; every now and then, in the earnestness 
 or interest of his conversation, he bent his head 
 down till the waving locks of his dark hair touched 
 my forehead. Oh, how strangely and rapturously 
 my heart beat then ! And when he talked to me 
 of his thoughts, ambitions and endeavours — when 
 he opened to me the world of his inner-life, as if I 
 had been the friend of long and tried years — all my 
 reserve, and timidity, and embarrassment wore off, 
 and I was animated, frank, and natural as a child. 
 
 A few minutes after one, the door burst open, 
 and Mrs. Dunstan and Angelica entered. 
 
 Angelica smiled with a contemptuous and 
 angry expression. 
 
 " Ah, Miss Warne," she said, ironically, " how 
 profitably and becomingly you spend your Sunday 
 morning ; I suppose you have got to the end of 
 your book?" 
 
 Jeannie came up to me and took the book as it 
 lay open on my knees. 
 
BY THE SEA. 227 
 
 " Why, Chatty," she said, laughing merrily, 
 " what a tete-a-tete you and Lindsay have had ; 
 you have not turned a leaf since we left you ! 
 Lindsay, it 's very naughty of you to come and 
 prevent Chatty from being industrious." 
 
 "Of course, Chatty was very unwilling to be 
 prevented," Angelica exclaimed, sarcastically, and 
 then went out of the room with a peculiar swing 
 which always indicated an unpleasant mood ; and 
 the swing was by no means a rare thing. 
 
 " How sweetly amiable my cousin looks," 
 Jeannie said, after watching her out with an 
 amused look ; (( really it's too bad — one never 
 can please Angelica. Try and get her into a good 
 temper, Lindsay, do." 
 
 "You seem to have a great opinion of my 
 powers of conciliation, little Jeannie," he an- 
 swered, with a smile, "how am I to set to 
 work?" 
 
 " I don't know, but I am sure you can please 
 her when no one else can." Jeannie spoke 
 with childish artlessness, but the speech was 
 an awkward one; Lindsay turned away and 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 only remarking that he had promised to call on 
 a friend, left the room. 
 
 "Oh, Chatty," Jeannie said, with a comical 
 piteousness, "I am so glad I stayed with you. 
 I never could like Mr. Dowley's sermons, and 
 never shall ; all the time he is giving out a string 
 of elegant words and flowery metaphors, I cannot 
 tell what he is driving at. Mamma says he 
 spiritualizes religion, but I don't see it; he 
 wordifies it. I would at any time rather have 
 a talk with you, ten times, than I would listen 
 to the finest sermon he ever wrote." 
 
 She paused a moment, and then continued, in 
 a serious tone: 
 
 " You are so different to me, Chatty — so good 
 and thoughtful, I never thought seriously about 
 anything till I knew you; and I owe you so 
 much — I shall owe it you as long as I live." 
 
 My darling's face was wet with tears as she 
 embraced me. 
 
 " You have taught me what I should never 
 have learned if it had not been for you ; such a 
 lesson of patience, and goodness, and charitable- 
 
BY THE SEA. 229 
 
 ness, and not only by your conversations with me 
 but by your life. Oh, Chatty, what would I give, 
 to be like you? Till now I have never had any 
 troubles or sorrows, but whenever they do come 
 I will try and bear them as you have done yours. 
 I have often thought about this, and have felt so 
 grateful that I have known you before the time 
 of my trials has come, but not half grateful 
 enough." 
 
 "You think better of me than I deserve, 
 Jeannie," I answered, for her words humbled 
 me ; " your affection for me hides my faults." 
 
 " No, no," said the warm hearted girl, kissing 
 me. " Oh no, Chatty, no such thing, I assure 
 you ; I 'm not a bit partial, and I 'm right-seeing 
 where my own heart is concerned. Lindsay says 
 so, and therefore it must be right." 
 
 Jeannie and I with the same opinion again! 
 for we both believe and trust Lindsay's word as 
 "Holy Writ." It is curious enough that our 
 ideas coincide so often and so nearly. 
 
230 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 I promised to stay a month with Jeannie before 
 entering upon any definite arrangements for my 
 future life. And I needed the rest sorely; for 
 the watching and the anxieties, the hope and the 
 fear, and the sorrow of the last few months had 
 made a fearful inroad on my health ; and I 
 wanted to recruit it ere I began the work which 
 was henceforth to be for my daily bread. Such 
 a holiday, therefore — society, change, and a total 
 diversity of occupation — was just the medicine I 
 needed ; and, though Mrs. Dunstan was a weak- 
 minded woman, as well as a frivolous and a 
 worldly one, there was a spice of real good nature 
 in her disposition, however indolent it might be. 
 Besides, I was Jeannie's friend, and that was a 
 
BY THE SEA. 231 
 
 passport to her hospitality and kindness; albeit, 
 the kindness was at times tempered with incon- 
 siderateness, and the hospitality with a tone of 
 patronage. Still she was really kind to me, and 
 meant to be so; and orphaned — lowly — poor 
 as I was, I felt that for that kindness I ouo-ht to 
 be grateful indeed. 
 
 Although there was a great deal of visiting, 
 Jeannie and I never let a day pass in idleness ; 
 all the mornings, whilst Mrs. Dunstan and 
 Angelica were employed in making calls or 
 receiving them, we shut ourselves up in the 
 breakfast-room over our books; no one was 
 admitted into our studious retirement but Ross, 
 for with him we were sure of meeting encourage- 
 ment rather than raillery. He was an uncommon 
 character — Ross Dunstan — a constant enigma and 
 perplexity to me. Had he a heart like other men? 
 had he a susceptibility of love — admiration — or 
 for the esteem of others? Sometimes I doubted 
 it, as day after day I studied the iron inflexibility 
 of his features; and the more I found how 
 difficult a study it was, so the more my curiosity 
 
232 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 and interest increased. I am one of those 
 who place a great confidence in the human 
 countenance — who look ever on it for a shadow- 
 ing and hieroglyphic of the immortal mind; but 
 it was very difficult to read a face like Ross 
 Dunstan's. Power, and force and firmness of 
 character were stamped there plainly enough, 
 but there was nothing more. Whether the 
 strength was modified by gentleness, and the 
 power by softness. I could not tell, though day 
 after day I watched unweariedlv. One thin^ 
 I observed, but I should never have disclosed 
 mv discovery, for it was not an agreeable one, 
 had not Jeannie said one day to me : 
 
 " I do not know why, but somehow I can 
 see that Ross doesn't like Lindsay at all ; I can't 
 make it out — every one .else does." 
 
 After that I felt that the thought was not a 
 mere fancy, but a truth, and I observed his 
 conduct narrowly. 
 
 He was perfectly gentlemanlike and polite 
 to Lindsay — courteous even, in so far as the 
 rules of societv have defined the meanhiii of the 
 
BY THE SEA. 233 
 
 word — but the politeness and the courteonsness 
 were so entirely distant and wanting in cordiality, 
 that they were more frigid even than marked 
 coldness. In conversation he never cut short 
 Lindsay's arguments by the curt and pointed 
 expressions with which he otherwise invariably 
 beat his adversary ; and he might have done so 
 easily, for he and Lindsay never held the same 
 opinion about an important question ; and Lindsay 
 always seemed to choose debateable and uncertain 
 ground, whether from a playful antagonism to 
 Ross or from principle I know not ; besides Ross 
 was infinitely the cleverer. 
 
 But he never did so ; he never said the smart, 
 and witty, and cutting things to Lindsay which 
 he did to any one else; somehow I could not 
 help thinking that he deprecated the idea of 
 his dislike to him being seen — that he constantly 
 and tacitly made an effort to conceal it. But 
 he did not conceal it; I read it in the cynical 
 smile upon his lips whenever Lindsay was talking 
 earnestly to Jeannie, and her fair face was raised 
 to his with only trustfulness and admiration 
 
234 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 written on it. I read it in the sharp glance 
 half-pitying, half-contemptnons, which met me 
 whenever I spoke of him I loved ; and I never 
 did it but with the greatest reverence and 
 respect. 
 
 If it had not been for this thing, I think Ross 
 and I should have been the best of friends. He 
 was so entirely free from affectation and pre- 
 judice, so strong-minded and self-reliant, and 
 so utterly superior to all frivolity, meanness, and 
 worldliness, that I could but feel a regard and 
 esteem for him. And there was a kind of 
 sympathy between us from the first ; I was 
 interested in everything he said, and took a 
 delight in his clever satire and criticism; now 
 no one else did at Helmsley-End Hall, and 
 consequently, whenever he said anything witty 
 or sarcastic, he always looked at me with the 
 consciousness of my enjoyment. He had taken an 
 interest in me too ; my isolated and independent 
 position were not unknown to him, and I believe 
 he spoke with more openness and frankness to me 
 than he did to any one : but from the first moment 
 
BY THE SEA. 235 
 
 that I discovered his aversion to Lindsay, and that 
 he was conscious of my discovery, a chill and 
 a restraint were upon us. 
 
 So the days went on till Christmas. Every 
 Saturday evening Lindsay came down to Helmsley- 
 End Hall as usual, and his visit worked its 
 accustomed excitement. Angelica's eyes flashed 
 with a darker and more unreadable expression now 
 than formerly, as she used to enter the dining-room 
 after her toilet, shining in silks, and decked with 
 jewels till 
 
 " The rings that were on her fingers 
 Cast light throughout the hall." 
 
 Jeannie's cheeks were flushed with the 
 impatience of pleasure as she sat on the window- 
 seat listening for the sound of wheels, which 
 announced his coming, and the Count's with the 
 impatience of dinner. Upon Mrs. Dunstan it had 
 no other effect than an extra sweetness and 
 blandness towards the Count. 
 
 And I, sitting apart, with my black dress and 
 down-looking eyes, which lighted up at his footstep, 
 as the enthusiastic votary at a revelation from his 
 
236 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 saint — I But oh, kind reader, surely I am not 
 
 so poor a daguerreotypist of human hearts and 
 histories that thou canst not see all this, without 
 the tedious telling ! 
 
 My life at Mrs. Dunstan's was one entire 
 dream of love, and hope, and joy. His coming 
 and going shed a halo and lustre over the common 
 things of life which never faded, and it was only 
 at night, when quiet came over the house, that the 
 full recollection of my orphaned loneliness came 
 across my mind. Then I shed floods of passion- 
 ate tears, and implored God to guide me in the 
 ways of innocence, and peace, and virtue, since I 
 was left without a protector ; and sometimes after 
 my evening's prayer, a calm would come, sweeter 
 even than the delirium of the day's happiness had 
 been. 
 
BY THE SEA, 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Ah, how dreary a home looks which death has 
 made desolate! The day before Christmas day 
 I returned home; I was still literally a visitor 
 at Mrs. Dunstan's, but I felt that it was time 
 now for me to fix upon my plans : my principal 
 stay and help was Mr. Stirling ; he had promised 
 to assist me in my endeavours, and I felt sure 
 that he would keep his word. He had written 
 to me asking me to be at home, as he wished to 
 talk over my affairs, and promising to spend 
 Christmas day with Jeannie, I set off at once to 
 the White House. As I returned homewards I 
 could think of nothing else but of my father, and 
 of the sad summer watchings; lately the sorrowful 
 memories had been somewhat subdued by the 
 excitement and vivid variety of my life at the 
 
238 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Hall, but now they returned upon me with all 
 the fulness of reality. My heart seemed as if 
 it would burst with grief as I wandered over the 
 dismal untenanted rooms. I sat down on the 
 chair, where I had received the last blessing of 
 the friend who was dead, and wept bitterly ; I 
 thanked God again and again that I had tried 
 to the utmost to do my duty to him, and the 
 reflection of an eternal and untiring Goodness 
 watching over me from above, filled me with 
 peace and patience. I resolved that whatever 
 trials might be in store for me I would do my 
 duty, and trust in God. 
 
 Mr. Stirling came alone, and his face had a 
 troubled expression on it which I had never 
 seen before. After the first words of greeting, 
 he took my hands in his, and said, gravely, 
 
 " My dear child, I am afraid that what I have 
 to say will disappoint you." 
 
 I looked up wonderingly. 
 
 "You promised me, Chatty, when your father 
 died, that you would be guided by me in the 
 choice and direction of your life. 
 
BY THE SEA. 239 
 
 "And I will, always, always!" I said, gratefully. 
 
 "Even if my counsel is unwelcome?" lie said, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Oh yes, yes !" I answered tearfully, and raised 
 his hand to my lips. " You are so kind to me, 
 Mr. Stirling, I can neA r er repay you." 
 
 u You can indeed, and you will do so amply, 
 if you will implicitly follow my advice. You are 
 not a child, and though your experiences are 
 narrow, you have an infinite perception and 
 intelligence, and I think you will see at once 
 the judiciousness of my plan ; dear child, you 
 must give up your home." 
 
 I answered only by a blank look of dismay. 
 
 " I know that this step will grieve you, but at 
 the same time it is unavoidable. Chatty, listen 
 to me. Consider it in what light you may, your 
 position, if you remained here, would be a painful 
 and a hard one. You would be very lonely, 
 and at the same time have to work very hard, 
 and the mere burden and weight of your 
 responsibility would be a trial of which you 
 do not dream. Besides, even if you obtained 
 
240 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 your wishes, and a sufficient employment to make 
 up your income what it formerly was ; it would 
 be unsafe and quite unpracticable for a young 
 girl to live in this remote and lonely place, as you 
 first thought of doing. Do you not agree with 
 
 me?" 
 
 " Yes — certainly," I said, sadly. 
 
 tt I think my plan is far better," Mr. Stirling 
 continued, with a benevolent bright smile. " Now 
 Chatty, as I have read perfectly well the sparkle 
 of those Charlton eyes " 
 
 " I am afraid I am proud," I replied humbly. 
 
 Mr. Stirling smiled again. 
 
 " Never mind. I think your pride is of a sort 
 that will be your friend rather than your enemy. 
 Well then, I will speak to you in quite a business- 
 like way: my little Ned will soon be arrived at 
 alphabet estate; now, I know no one whom I should 
 like to teach him so well as my good little friend 
 Chatty, and the boy dotes upon you. Will you 
 accept my offer and be his governess ? I will do 
 my utmost to render you happy." 
 
 " I am sure of it," I said, whilst the grateful tears 
 
BY THE SEA. 24 i 
 
 filled my eyes. "Oh, Mr. Stirling, I do not 
 deserve such kindness." 
 
 " Indeed you do, and the kindness on my part 
 is not so magnificent as you may suppose. Put 
 it to yourself now, and you will see if I am quite 
 disinterested. Shall I not secure to my child a 
 teacher, and a friend who will think all dav 
 long of his happiness and improvement; who 
 will lie down to rest with a prayer that he may 
 grow up virtuous and strong-minded and who 
 will set him, every day of her own life, a right 
 good example of what his ought to be ? " 
 
 There was a very earnest, glad expression on 
 Mr. Stirling's face as he spoke ; my heart was too 
 full for words ; and he added, in a lower voice — 
 
 " And do you not think, Chatty, that it will 
 always be a great pleasure and satisfaction to me 
 to have under my roof, as a child of my own, 
 the daughter of so old a friend ? " 
 
 I could speak now; not that his last words had 
 stilled the gratitude, the love, and the thankfulness 
 which swelled within my bosom, but they were all 
 too powerful to let me keep silent; and though 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 
242 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 I spoke hurriedly and hesitatingly, I managed to 
 express somewhat of my thoughts. 
 
 Then all the definite arrangements were made. 
 I was to go to Mr. Stirling's as soon as my stay at 
 Mrs. Dunstaii's should be over; meanwhile, he 
 promised to take all the dreary business off my 
 hands, with regard to selling the furniture ; a few 
 things, dear and valuable to me from association, 
 were to be set aside for my room in his house, and 
 a broker would soon clear off the rest. 
 
 " I dare say you will be sorry to have every 
 link broken which connects you to your past life," 
 Mr. Stirling said, as he noticed the sadness of my 
 countenance ; "but this feeling will wear off; it is 
 a natural one." 
 
 " Oh yes. I never knew any other home but 
 that, and papa and I seemed to be all the world to 
 each other ; I cannot help looking back to the old 
 time. Poor papa ! 
 
 " And you will always look back to it, 
 whatever happiness the future has in store for 
 you ; now most of all. All the ancient landmarks 
 are removed, and you feel as if in a strange 
 
BY THE SEA. 243 
 
 country, but the solitariness will go when new 
 ones are set up. And you will be happy, Chatty, 
 I am sure of it, because you have done your 
 duty." 
 
 When Mr. Stirling was gone, Ellice came to 
 me. She had evidently been crying, but still 
 there was no look of unhappiness in her face. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Chatty ! " she exclaimed, " I know 
 that you will be happy, and so shall I, but 1 can't 
 bear to leave the house ; somehow, though it is so 
 out-of-the-way, and so dismal, I have felt quite an 
 affection for it. It seems only yesterday since 
 you were a little girl, and used to say your 
 prayers to me, night and morning ; and whenever 
 your poor papa was fretful or sorrowful, you came 
 into the kitchen, and cried yourself to sleep 
 on my lap. And often and often, master has 
 called me into the parlour, and told me what 
 a dear, good child you were, and begged me to be 
 kind to you, if you were left. And so I would 
 dear, and would have worked night and day, 
 rather than you should have wanted anything. 
 Bless you Miss Chatty!" 
 
 K 2 
 
244 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 The affectionate girl kissed me heartily. 
 
 "And I never would have married — no, not 
 if James Stirn had vowed not to wait for me. 
 I wouldn't have married to leave you, but you 
 have got better friends now, thank God for it." 
 
 I thanked Ellice, and asked her, as a poor 
 but useful way of showing my appreciation of her 
 faithful services, to choose from the furniture 
 whatever might be any worth, before the broker 
 came; for which she kissed me again, with 
 a reiteration of blessings. 
 
 We retired to rest early. Ellice was soon fast 
 asleep, doubtless dreaming of fitting up her best 
 kitchen with our parlour sideboard and faded 
 carpet, but I could not help thinking of the 
 yesterday of my life, and of the to-morrow. 
 
 So it was the last night I should ever spend 
 
 in the White House by the Sea. Memory might 
 
 hallow the place — imagination might recall the 
 
 time — but the memories and picture-visions would 
 
 be shadows, shadows only. For 
 
 " Where Time and Death have passed 
 Love can do nought but weep." v 
 
BY THE SEA. 245 
 
 CHAPTER XXIY. 
 
 Why does Ross come here so often ? 
 
 The thought 'has perplexed me many times; 
 he is so unlike every one else, so wrapt up in the 
 reserve of his own speculative mind, so widely 
 apart in his views, opinions, and interests, that it 
 seems impossible to imagine him taking a positive 
 pleasure in anything else. But it is not business 
 or advancement that brings him down to Ingham- 
 Helmsley ; if it is not pleasure, what is it then ? 
 The very name of pleasure makes me smile, when 
 I recall his hard, dry manner, his grave inflexi- 
 bility of countenance, and the half abstract, half 
 reflective tone when he speaks — and yet why does 
 he come so often ? 
 
 Ingham is fifty miles from London; and he 
 always takes the latest train on Saturday evening 
 and the earliest on Monday morning — either from 
 
246 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 press of business, or, more probably, to avoid the 
 company of Lindsay. Now I cannot conceive any 
 motive but a very strong one that would urge 
 him when worn-out and fashed with the week's 
 work (he is a lawyer), to prefer a tedious railway 
 journey to a comfortable lounge in his chambers. 
 
 Sometimes I fancy he is in love with Jeannie ; 
 evidently the easy gracefulness and childish 
 confidence of her invariable manner to him, 
 pleases him inexpressibly. I can see it in the 
 brightening of his eyes, whenever she turns 
 to him in any difficulty and Ross is the 
 highest authority to both Jeannie and me; 
 I can see it in the gentleness, almost tender 
 ness, with which he addresses her. Besides, is 
 there anything wonderful that he should love 
 Jeannie ? so fair, so loveable, so loving as she is. 
 Could any one help loving her ? 
 
 As this thought flashes across my mind, a sharp 
 unutterable pain shoots through my heart — a wild 
 unnatural fire burns within my bosom. Heaven 
 help me! of what do I dream? 
 
 Oh, Jeannie, Jeannie ! 
 
BY THE SEA. 247 
 
 But I will not harbour the thought ; I strive to 
 forget its existence even; and meet Jeannie and 
 Lindsay with my accustomed look and greeting. 
 Jeannie flies to me and kisses me, again and 
 again; Lindsay takes both my hands in his, and 
 wishes me a merry Christmas and a happy New 
 Year. 
 
 Then he draws my hand under his arm, and 
 we all three walk over the crisp, frosty ground 
 towards Mrs. Dunstan's house. 
 
 "I am so glad there is another week yet of 
 the old year!" Jeannie exclaimed: it has been such 
 a happy one to me ; I don't want it to go yet." 
 
 " Pleasant things are always gone the quickest," 
 Lindsay answered; "are they not, Chatty?" 
 
 (i , It 's too bad of you," Jeannie interrupted, " to 
 damp me in this way ; but there is another month 
 then, you know, before I shall have to leave Chatty. 
 Mamma won't go to London till February." 
 
 " And then how I can triumph over you ! " 
 Lindsay added, laughing. " How I can triumph 
 over little Jeannie ! Whilst you are shut up nolens 
 volens f I, like all other lords of the creation, can go 
 
248 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 where I like, and can come down and see Chatty 
 when you are obliged to content yourself with a 
 letter!" 
 
 " Oh, I 'm so glad ! you will come down and see 
 Chatty sometimes, won't you?" Jeannie said, with 
 ineffable simplicity and sweetness. I looked up 
 into his face, too, for an answer. 
 
 " Can you doubt it ? " he said, in a low voice. 
 
 I do not know whether the words were 
 addressed either to Jeannie or myself; but his 
 eyes were on me, and his voice had an undertone 
 of meaning in it that I took trustfully and 
 hopefully into the deep secrecies of my heart. 
 As we approached the house, the figure of a 
 gentleman advanced from the portico to meet us. 
 
 " Ross ! " Jeannie cried, in an animated voice, 
 and disengaged her hand from Lindsay's arm, as 
 if to rush and meet him. 
 
 " Ay ! how the most stoical monsieur will add 
 to our Christmas festivity ! " Lindsay exclaimed, 
 laughing. 
 
 " You don't like Ross," Jeannie said, quickly, 
 with the least shade of a blush on her cheek. 
 
BY THE SEA. 249 
 
 u I never said so." 
 
 Lindsay's voice was almost cold, and Jeannie 
 blushed deeper still with vexation ; but she never 
 quitted his side to meet Ross, and her greeting 
 had a touch of embarrassment. 
 
 They walked on in advance, and Ross came 
 beside me; I think Jeannie was asking pardon 
 for her words, or that Lindsay was excusing his 
 own, for the fair young face was raised to his, 
 anxiously and then turned away with a bright smile. 
 
 " Poor Jeannie ! " 
 
 I looked up with surprise ; they were the first 
 words my companion had uttered, and I could not 
 catch at even at their vaguest meaning. 
 
 " Why do you say so?" I asked. 
 
 Ross turned round with a sudden start ; first he 
 bit his lip with an expression of annoyance, then 
 said with a curious smile : 
 
 ee You have a good deal of common-sense, Miss 
 Charlton Warne, but though it is a very simple 
 thing, you wouldn't understand it." 
 
 Ci Thank you, sir," I answered merrily, " for your 
 contradictory opinion of me, which strikes me as 
 
250 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 not being very easy to understand. If the reason 
 of your pitying Jeannie was so simple, why cannot 
 I comprehend it ; I am really anxious to know." 
 
 " You are fond of her ? 
 
 e< Oh yes ! she is my sister — my only friend." 
 
 I spoke warmly, and for a minute or two Ross 
 gazed at me with great earnestness, then he broke 
 off abruptly with — 
 
 "How long is Mr. Jocelyn going to stay 
 here?" 
 
 I forgot my curiosity at once, and answered 
 with a slight blush: 
 
 " Till the end of the week, I believe, at least he 
 has half promised Jeannie to do so." 
 
 Ross bit his lip again. 
 
 " It is astonishing to me how that Mr. Jocelyn 
 contrives to wind every one's affections round his 
 fingers." 
 
 " I don't think it is very astonishing," I said, 
 resolutely, and with sparkling eyes. 
 
 " Oh no, Miss Warne, I beg your pardon." 
 
 There was a touch of sarcasm in his voice, and 
 I answered coldly — 
 
BY THE SEA. 251 
 
 " There is no occasion." 
 
 We walked on in awkward silence for some 
 minutes. I tried to think of some little common- 
 place phrase to break it, but rejected every one 
 either as inappropriate or formal. We were now 
 within a few hundred yards of the house, and 
 I longed to reach the door eagerly. I was so 
 sorry that any shadow had come between the 
 intercourse formerly existing between Ross and 
 myself, and I could not help acknowledging that 
 I felt less cordial in my heart to him. All of 
 a sudden, he turned to me very quickly, and 
 said — 
 
 " Don't be angry with me, Miss Warne. You 
 and I have been hitherto such good friends that 
 I would rather do anything than displease you — 
 except be a hypocrite." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Dunstan ! " I exclaimed, smiling, 
 what do you mean? — you speak such riddles to- 
 day. I had no right to be displeased with you, 
 although I am afraid I was inclined to be so. 
 
 " Bravo ! nothing pleases me so much as 
 candour. I like you very much, Miss Warne." 
 
252 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " And what did you mean just now?" 
 
 The same expression, half of annoyance half of 
 contempt, came over his countenance. 
 
 " I know you will be angry, and that you 
 will never like me again " 
 
 He broke off suddenly and smiled, such a 
 genuine pleasant smile ! I hardly thought it 
 possible for him to smile so, and continued : 
 
 " Don't accuse me of self-esteem ; I did not 
 mean to be so egotistical and vain, but there has 
 been a friendliness and mutual cordiality between 
 us, has there not, till now ? " 
 
 « Yes." 
 
 " And why should it not be so still, you will 
 say ? It all depends upon yourself, Chatty ; I 
 appeal to your intelligence, and understanding — if 
 I see only a horrible superstition and deceit, a 
 trickery of painted images, false jewellery, and 
 unholy imitations of holy pictures — if I, with 
 my older experience and better knowledge of the 
 world, can see this, where you by the torchlight 
 of young imagination, and undeceived love, and 
 goodness, see only a beautiful temple with God's 
 
BY THE SEA. 253 
 
 truth shining within it, and wherein you can 
 say your prayers safely at the altar " 
 
 He stopped suddenly, as he met my look of 
 wonder ; and added, in his usual quiet manner : 
 
 " I suppose, Miss Warne, if I further add my 
 conviction, that one day sooner or later, you 
 will think as I do — that — that I am understood." 
 
 " I am t no Romanist ! ,! I answered, more 
 puzzled than ever. 
 
 At this moment, Jeannie, hanging on Lindsay's 
 arm, and looking up to him with eyes full of 
 trustfulness and joy, passed into the portico. 
 
 Ross raised his hand to where their faces 
 had just been turned to us, and looked signifi- 
 cantly at me. 
 
 " No, no, Miss Warne, I know you are not ; 
 but which is the greater number, think you? 
 Hearts that are brought to woe in this world 
 by being sacrificed to false gods — or souls to 
 damnation in the next, from the same cause ? " 
 
 Then, without a word more, we entered the 
 house. 
 
254 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 The day after Christmas day Mrs. Dunstan gave 
 a ball. I think that a great many motives 
 actuated her to do this. First of all, to dazzle 
 the Count; for that the suave flatteries 
 and moustachioed charms of the noble Civray 
 Emanuel Louis Phillippe de Perpini, of Chateau 
 Pons in Normandy, and Hotel de Perpini, Paris, 
 had greatly warmed the heart and imagination of 
 Mrs. Dunstan, there required no ghost to tell 
 me. It was but natural that her vanity and pride 
 of wealth should lead her to make a still more 
 splendid show than she had hitherto done ; 
 and she wished to dazzle and astonish all Ingham 
 as well : she wished to make a brilliant display of 
 her riches, her jewellery, her plate, and, in fine, 
 of her extravagance. 
 
BY THE SEA. 255 
 
 So the preparations were set on foot. Car- 
 penters, and joiners were employed by dozens 
 to erect a temporary dancing-room, on the lawn, 
 as none of the smart drawing-rooms were 
 considered spacious enough; orders were sent 
 up to some of the fitting-up warehouses in Oxford- 
 street, for velvet and moreen hangings, glass 
 chandeliers, coloured lamps, gilt and gold vases, 
 frosted silver ornaments — for anything, in fact, 
 which was glittering, gorgeous, and expensive. 
 From eight in the morning till ten at night Mrs. 
 Dunstan's bell had a restless time of it. Fruit, 
 wine, confectionary, furniture, millinery, every 
 possible etcetera which rich people can get for 
 money, and everyone else can do without, was 
 brought in, in mysterious packages through the back 
 door. At first I resolutely turned a deaf ear to all 
 Jeannie's entreaties that I would be there. I was 
 not used to anything of the kind ; I was a stranger 
 to all the gaieties which are so delightful, more 
 or less, to the tastes of the young ; and I felt no 
 desire to pass the charmed circle. Besides, the 
 shadows of grief were as sombre round my 
 
256 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 heart as the black crape on my dress ; I should be 
 far happier listening to Mr. Stirling, and with 
 little Ned for a playfellow. 
 
 " I shan't enjoy the ball half so much without 
 you, Chatty," said Jeannie, yielding reluctantly 
 to my arguments. " Ross, do you not think she 
 might come ? " 
 
 It was the evening of Christmas day, and 
 our conversation had naturally turned upon 
 to-morrow's grand event. Ross was sitting a little 
 apart, and as Jeannie appealed to him, looked up. 
 For the first time since morning our eyes met, and 
 I coloured involuntarily. I felt a sort of dread 
 and reluctance in looking at Ross now. Perhaps 
 he saw it, for he answered in a measured distant 
 voice. 
 
 " Really, Jeannie, I think Chatty is far more 
 able to tell than I." 
 
 " Why do you teaze Chatty so ? " pettishly 
 rejoined Angelica, " I think she is quite right, not 
 to be at the ball ; anyhow, Jeannie, if she don't 
 wish to come, why, let the matter rest." 
 
 Jeannie smiled saucily. 
 
BY THE SEA. 257 
 
 " I don't do things in the way you do, Angelica." 
 
 Lindsay smiled too, and Jeannie wrote child- 
 ishly, on the edge of the book I was reading : 
 
 " Angelica, for some reason or other, does not 
 wish you to be here to-morrow, and that 's all the 
 more reason I w T ish you should." 
 
 By and by, the fireside party broke up ; Mrs. 
 Dunstan and the Count sat down to a game 
 of chess ; Ross drew forth a note-case and pored 
 over it intently with a contracted brow ; Angelica 
 leaned back in her wicker chair, in a silent, sullen 
 mood ; Jeannie, simple, infantine, artless Jeannie, 
 brought out a heap of coloured tissue paper, over 
 which she bent her fair head, with all its shining 
 tresses, wholly engrossed in making flowers and 
 decorations for the evergreen festoons of the 
 dancing-room ; Lindsay looked into the fire with 
 a characteristic and by no means unusual 
 melancholy expression on his features, and I stole 
 up-stairs into my room. 
 
 I could not help thinking of Ross's words ; th-y 
 had haunted me the whole day, with a painful 
 disagreeable impression from which I could not 
 
 vol. i. s 
 
258 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 free myself, and I wanted to get rid of it if I 
 could. But how could I? To speak of the 
 subject again to Ross, I felt was utterly impos- 
 sible. Oh, what terrible delusion had so blinded 
 him ? I would have given worlds to justify 
 Lindsay in his eyes, to take away the dark 
 shadow which so deceived him, and to set his 
 character, noble, manly, and truthful as it was, in 
 clearness before his eyes. That Ross was grossly, 
 cruelly in error I felt assured; that I could not 
 alter his manner of thinking, I was surer still. 
 
 Yet I would try. Alas, that I was so weak ! 
 I, who would have staked all my future happiness 
 and hope on his honour and goodness; I, who 
 would even have laid down my life for him 
 joyfully. It was hard to love him so, and yet 
 have no power to serve him ! 
 
 I leaned on the landing window in a fit of 
 dreamy thought. It was a splendid winter's 
 night, starlight and clear and still ; the faint light 
 shed by the lamp in the ceiling gave a dusky 
 and dim appearance to the pictured walls and oak 
 carvings, and there was an unwonted hush all over 
 
BY THE SEA. 259 
 
 the house. It was very pleasant to stand there 
 and think of Lindsay ; and it was so seldom I had 
 a quiet time for reflection now. Presently I 
 heard a clear and deep voice humming a pensive 
 melody in the hall ; it came nearer, and the 
 next moment he was standing by my side. 
 
 " Day dreaming ? " he said, in a low tone ; 
 " Chatty, may I disturb you ?" 
 
 « Oh yes." 
 
 rt I want to say something to you — a favour to 
 ask of you?" 
 
 "Me? what can it be!" 
 
 " I am afraid you will not grant it, and yet it 
 is a small one, Chatty, a very small one." 
 
 " Go on," I said, smiling ; " if it is a small one, 
 why need you fear I shall not grant it ? " 
 
 " I need not fear, then ? Oh, Chatty, how glad 
 I am! Will you, after having refused every one's 
 entreaties to remain here to-morrow, do so when 
 I ask you — entreat you even ? " 
 
 I looked up in much surprise. 
 
 " You wonder at the singularity of my request ; 
 and it does seem singular, but I do want you 
 
 s 2 
 
260 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 very, very much to be at this ball. It is not such 
 a very great thing to ask after all, is it, Chatty ? " 
 
 C( No, a small one, but " 
 
 I hesitated, and he bent his head lower down, 
 and said softly, the action and the w T ords causing 
 my heart to beat with a wild joy — 
 
 " Oh, do not refuse ; you must not : I would 
 grant you any favour you might ask me." 
 
 His hair touched my forehead as he spoke; and 
 the touch burned me like a lightning stroke. 
 My frame trembled, and my voice shook as I 
 answered — 
 
 "I will grant it." 
 
 He repeated a hundred thanks ; he sang play- 
 fully, and whistled as if from very gleefulness : he 
 shook both my hands; he stroked my hair; and 
 used a dozen expressions of pleasure and praise, 
 as if to a good child. 
 
 At the drawing-room door I stopped suddenly 
 in dismay. 
 
 " How inconsistent and childish they will all 
 think me ! " 
 
 " Never mind. ' Inconsistency is the sign of a 
 
BY THE SEA. 261 
 
 great mind/ you know, so says a philosopher of 
 the present day. Why surely, Chatty, you are not 
 afraid, so brave and resolute as you are. Would 
 you shrink from serving a friend because the 
 service incurs an unpleasantness ? You shake your 
 head. I thought so." 
 
 "But I am doing you no service," I said, 
 demurely. 
 
 " A favour is always a service." 
 
 He smiled his old accustomed, half grave, half 
 playful smile, and opened the door, still retaining 
 my hand on his arm. 
 
 The party were all just as we had left them, 
 but all looked up as we entered the room. And 
 somehow every one looked astonished. 
 
 " A triumph ! A triumph ! " Lindsay exclaimed, 
 glancing round with an exultant expression. 
 
 The astonishment increased trebly. 
 
 " A triumph ! Mrs. Dunstan, Jeannie, Angelica, 
 all listen, Mr. Ross Dunstan, Count de Perpini ; 
 listen!" 
 
 "What is the matter?" cried Jeannie, jumping 
 up hastily, and letting fall her whole treasure of 
 
262 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 mock flowers, and coloured snips. " What is the 
 matter, Lindsay ? how pleased you look ! " 
 
 " Good news, Jeannie, and what will please you, 
 too, and Angelica too." 
 
 Angelica looked up, and something of the 
 cloudiness on her brow passed off. 
 
 " How can you be so tantalizing ? " she said, in 
 a pleased-annoyed tone. 
 
 " Well then," Lindsay exclaimed, with hilarity 
 unaccountable in his voice and manner, " I have 
 persuaded Chatty at last to — to remain for the ball ! " 
 Mrs. Dunstan and the Count resumed their 
 game with a mutual shrug of the shoulders ; 
 Jeannie jumped up and kissed me in the exuber- 
 ance of her joy, Angelica curled her lip with 
 unwonted disdain and contemptuousness ; Ross 
 glanced at me sharply for an instant, and then 
 resumed his book. 
 
 Jeannie's work was over for to-night; so, happy 
 as a young bird, she placed three chairs by the 
 fire, and she and Lindsay and I sat there together, 
 in quiet, happy conversation all the rest of the 
 evening. 
 
BY THE SEA. 263 
 
 Only one thing disturbed us : the angry fiery 
 flash of Angelica's eyes, as she glanced at us 
 ever and anon. But we were all getting used 
 to her wayward moods now, and I was too joyful 
 and too excited to bestow much thought upon 
 anything. 
 
 And Lindsay — never had I seen him so humour- 
 ous, so light-hearted, so animated as that night 
 How glad I was that I had pleased him ! 
 
264 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Ross is gone ! On the morning of the ball 
 he took his leave. Business, he said, called him 
 immediately to London, and his manner was 
 distant and ceremonious to the utmost. I was 
 too happy in my own thoughts to occupy myself 
 with his departure, and, speaking candidly, I felt 
 relieved that he was gone ; every one else was 
 too busy to think of him, and his name was not 
 mentioned all day. Poor Ross ! — and yet he was 
 more clever and better than any of us ! 
 
 When he had turned away from me with 
 a quiet and formal — " Good-bye, Chatty," 
 though I spoke formally too, my heart smote 
 me, for Ross had been very kind to me. And 
 yet, why so ? I recalled Lindsay, and my cheek 
 
BY THE SEA. 265 
 
 burned proudly. I could not have said a gentler 
 word to Ross for the world. 
 
 I was to wear one of Jeannie's dresses, a simple 
 white muslin, and with only white roses for 
 trimming. It was Lindsay's taste, Jeannie said, 
 and whose taste was so good as his ? But, though 
 Jeannie and I were much of the same stature 
 and form, there were several little alterations -to 
 make ; here was a strip of ribbon hanging down, 
 or a jagged hem, there a rose torn from its leaves, 
 or the leaves without the rose, but all these could 
 be soon set right, and the dress well contented 
 me ; it was so summer-like, so light and youthful ; 
 and with a good heart I sat down to my task. 
 
 Whilst so employed, Lindsay entered ; he did 
 not speak, but had a pleased smile on his face, 
 and placed in my hands a small bunch of rare 
 hot-house flowers. 
 
 " For you to wear this evening, Chatty. I got 
 them on purpose." 
 
 I could not thank him at first, but my blushing 
 cheeks and glistening eyes told him more than 
 words could have done. 
 
266 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " I am so glad they have pleased you," he said, 
 and then went away as silently as he came. 
 
 In that hour I was weak, I was vain, I was 
 childish, I confess it all ; I could think no more 
 of the ball, no more of my employment, but 
 kissed the charmed flowers again and again, and 
 watered them with plenteous happy tears. They 
 were to me a key to Paradise — the i Open sesame' 
 to a mystical and a delicious realm. How radiant, 
 far-soaring, and heavenly my thoughts were, no 
 words can express. And if amongst my readers 
 there be any that have dreamed this dream with 
 me, that have like me passed from a dark Egypt 
 to a fair and rich Goshen, who have passed 
 many years in loneliness, one in the blissful- 
 ness of young love — for them no words will be 
 needed. 
 
 I felt assured that he returned my love. How 
 could I doubt it ? He had shown pleasure in my 
 presence, and had not forgotten me when away; 
 he had spoken to me of his inmost thoughts and 
 feelings ; he had always appealed to my opinions — 
 and he had given me flowers. 
 
BY THE SEA. 267 
 
 No wonder that this conviction so enraptured 
 me. I had never seen any one like him before ; 
 so cavalierly, so noble both in look and bearing, 
 so manly and yet gentle, so self-reliant and yet 
 generous. Oh, it was a very fair picture that I 
 cherished at heart ! 
 
 I was just carrying off my precious flowers 
 when Angelica entered. Her sharp glance 
 fastened on them instantaneously. 
 
 " Ha ! where did you get them from ? what 
 are they for?" 
 
 " To wear this evening." 
 
 i( Who gave them to you ? " 
 
 She darted an ungentle hand at them, but I 
 drew back. 
 
 " Take care," I said, quietly ; a I value them." 
 
 " Then he gave them to you ? " 
 
 " He ? how strange you are, Angelica ! whom 
 do you mean ? " 
 
 " Let me look at them," she said, unheeding 
 my question. 
 
 An odd mixture of assumed annoyance and 
 playfulness was in her manner ; I could see that 
 
268 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Lindsay's gift aroused still more the latent 
 antipathy she conceived for me. 
 
 " Do not let me touch them. Oh no, let no one 
 for the world breathe on them ! Chatty, you are 
 a baby, worse than a baby — a fool. You think 
 that Lindsay Jocelyn cares for you — not he. I 
 wouldn't touch the flowers for the world, I should 
 poison them. Ah, take the precious things up- 
 stairs, put them in a glass case — keep them till 
 they are dead, dead, dead ! Think that he loves 
 you — think that he^ will marry you — treasure 
 what thoughts you please. It will be the same in 
 the end. If nothing else teaches you, time will. 
 Love him, win his affections and his promises ; 
 think that he will never fail in either " 
 
 I would hear no more. I knew what an 
 ungovernable fiery temperament, and what a 
 treacherous, passionate leaven was mixed in her 
 Indian nature, and the words were all blunted 
 arrows. But I would not hear more : pride 
 revolted, and pride made me resolute ; and with- 
 out bestowing on her a word or look I quitted 
 the room. But my persecutor was not easily 
 
BY THE SEA. 269 
 
 daunted. Closely on my heels she followed me 
 tip-stairs. 
 
 " Ah ! you look haughty ; you borrow Ross 
 Dunstan's contemptuous smile. Do you think 
 I fear you ? no — not I. Touch the flowers T will : 
 Miss Charlton Warne, do you hear ? you are not 
 Ross, remember; or if you were, what do I care 
 for him ? You think Lindsay loves you— you 
 expect he will marry you, and hold his flowers 
 as dear as if they had fallen from heaven. But 
 the god is not for you. How you admire him ; 
 how you listen to his words, and look up to him 
 when he vouchsafes a smile, and tremble when 
 he speaks your name ! But know, Chatty Warne, 
 this is not the way to win his love. Oh no, no, 
 you do not understand Lindsay Jocelyn." 
 
 She looked at me fixedly for a moment, her 
 dark wild eyes dilating with a fire of ungoverned 
 passion and vehemence, then exclaimed — 
 
 " You love him ? Do you think you can 
 deceive me? And you think to win him — you 
 think that your weak woman's adoration, and 
 meek following his shadow, will win the lofty star 
 
270 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 to your feet. Ha ! you have prepared yourself a 
 pleasing delusion for the future. Not so — not in 
 worshipping and spirit-submitting veneration is 
 Lindsay Jocelyn to be won ! Poor simple fool 
 that you are ! of just such ones as you are the 
 whole class of man's dupes. Do you not see that 
 what is farthest removed, most difficult of access, 
 most hard to attain, is always most sought after ? 
 And do you not know that what is to be had for 
 nothing is never prized. Pshaw! the game is 
 lost, utterly lost, to you, Chatty Warne, long 
 ago." 
 
 " Then why do you hate me, Angelica ?" I said, 
 quietly. 
 
 " That has nothing to do with it. The game 
 has been in my own hands all along." 
 
 " I do not think so." 
 
 " Because you are jealous." 
 
 " Oh, by no means, you have no right to affirm 
 that I love Lindsay." 
 
 " Pshaw ! what a child you are ! Then why 
 were you so afraid that I should touch the 
 flowers ? " 
 
BY THE SEA. 271 
 
 " The reason is obvious enough ; you would pull 
 them to pieces." 
 
 I fixed my eyes on her sharply, and for a 
 moment she averted her own, but it was only 
 for a moment ; then her lips curled, and she 
 answered — 
 
 " But if you do not value them, what would 
 it matter if I did ? " 
 
 "Angelica, you are as much of a child as 
 myself," I answered smiling: "why, do you not 
 know that I want them for the ball this evening — 
 every one wears flowers, and if it were not for 
 these, I should have none." 
 
 I think she hardly knew whether I was in jest 
 or earnest, for she looked at me curiously, as if she 
 would fain read my inmost thoughts ; but I bent 
 my head down low, till my face was almost 
 hidden from her ; so low even that my lips 
 touched the treasured gift. I confess that there 
 was a sensation of pride mixed with the pleasure 
 and hopes which his gift brought me ; there they 
 lay, the white wax-like blossoms surrounded with 
 their dark green shining leaves, beautiful in every 
 
272 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 part, but beautiful most of all because they were 
 linked with association to him. Ah, how sweet to 
 me were alike the flowers and thoughts which 
 hung round them ! Yet, perhaps Angelica had 
 said aright : was I not a child, a fool ? — might not 
 the blossoms and the hopes alike wither ? 
 
 " Come, Angelica," I said, frankly, for I was 
 willing to forgive her much, knowing as I did, 
 what an irregular and reckless teaching her way- 
 ward youth had received. " Come, Angelica, let 
 us be friends, why should we not be so, since we 
 are not rivals ? " 
 
 I made a desperate effort to conquer the distrust 
 and uncharitableness I felt within me, and placed 
 the flowers on the table. 
 
 It was a tacit appeal to her generosity, as well 
 as a conquest over self; I moved about the room, 
 with an affected carelessness, but keeping a 
 watchful look on her all the time. I think a 
 struggle was going on in her mind too ; she 
 stood quite still, and with her face turned directly 
 from me, but I could catch a glimpse now and 
 then of a quivering lip, and a working brow ; 
 
BY THE SEA. 273 
 
 presently her eyes turned on me, with an almost 
 tiger glance, so fiery, so eager. Then — then 
 she moves forward — she stretches out her hand ; 
 in another moment the ground is covered with 
 rich white blossoms ! 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
274 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 I did not speak ; I could not trust myself to 
 speak, while such a tumult of hasty impetuous 
 thoughts swelled within my heart ; but I opened 
 the door wide, I commanded her, half by a 
 gesture, half by a look that implied an abhorrence 
 of her presence, to leave me. And she went* 
 Then I knelt on the ground, and carefully, very 
 carefully picked up all the scattered petals ; not 
 one I allowed to escape me. 
 
 Whilst thus employed, Jeannie entered. 
 
 " Oh, Chatty, how came this ? the lovely flowers 
 Lindsay just bought for you ! What a pity I " 
 
 " It is indeed." 
 
 "But how could it happen, Chatty? they 
 couldn't fall to pieces." 
 
 " But flowers go, to pull to pieces — " 
 
BY THE SEA. 275 
 
 "Pull? why, Chatty, do tell me how this 
 came about?" 
 
 " Angelica ! " 
 
 I said no more; and there was no need. 
 Jeannie's eyes met mine, with a mutual expres- 
 sion of distrust and presentiment. 
 
 "She is jealous — she loves him!" were her 
 first words. 
 
 Then she looked at me as;ain; but this time 
 I turned away my face : there was something in 
 the half-curious, half-inquiring way in which 
 she seemed to ask my very thoughts that well 
 nigh abashed me. I had thoughts even that 
 were too precious and recessed for Jeannie's 
 eyes. 
 
 " It was very nice of Lindsay to get them for 
 you," she began, in a half-hesitating manner 
 that was foreign to her; " but why should 
 Angelica be so jealous? Lindsay has never — do 
 do you think — I mean, have you any idea ? " 
 
 w My dear Jeannie," I said, smiling, " what 
 do you mean ? " 
 
 She put her arm around me, and whispered, 
 
 t 2 
 
276 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 as if the thought were too sacred for utterance — 
 ' Does he love you ? " 
 
 I drew the fair ingenuous face towards me, 
 and gazed earnestly on it : there was an expression 
 of perplexity in her eyes, of trouble almost, 
 which I had never read there before ; and the 
 eyes were averted quickly, as if she were 
 unwilling to be so scrutinized. 
 " What is it, dear ? " 
 
 " That isn't fair," she answered, blushing ; 
 " answer me first." 
 
 " Will you then tell me what made my little 
 Jeannie so grave just now ? " 
 
 " I was not exactly grave," she said, with 
 perfect simplicity, and blushing still deeper ; " but 
 the idea was so strange, and so sudden ! It 
 never entered my head before that Lindsay 
 should fall in love with you ; and yet I do not 
 see why I should be surprised : there is nothing 
 extraordinary in it, is there ? " 
 
 " I think so : but he has not fallen in love 
 with me, that I know of, Jeannie." 
 
 For some minutes, her head was bent over 
 
BY THE SEA. 277 
 
 the heap of scattered petals I held on my lap; 
 and she kept gathering little bunches of them 
 together, and then dividing them again, as if 
 unconsciously. At length I broke silence : 
 
 (t Well, Jeannie, are you pleased, or sorry ? " 
 
 " I should like to have you always happy " 
 
 " And do you think his love would make me 
 so?" 
 
 " Oh yes ! How can you ask ? could any one 
 help being happy with him ? " 
 
 " You would like me to marry, Lindsay, then? " 
 
 " If he loved you as much as I do." 
 
 I embraced her warmly ; but we neither of 
 us recurred to the subject ; somehow, without a 
 word being said, we both of us felt that it was 
 not a grateful one. 
 
 " But, about the flowers ; how could Angelica 
 do so?" 
 
 <e I cannot imagine : without the slightest ca use 
 she is so very jealous." 
 
 " How she loves him, Chatty ! I could 
 almost pity her. I am sure he does not care 
 for her." 
 
278 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " I can hardly call Angelica's feeling for 
 Lindsay, love," I said, decisively. 
 
 " No ?— why not ? " 
 
 " She has not soul enough. Love is tender and 
 trusting, and unselfish : love is content to serve, 
 it does not seek to reign. Do you think Angelica 
 is capable of anything like this? Oh no, hers is 
 but a wild passion- — an ambition to possess what 
 all the world would admire. It would be a 
 triumph for her to see Lindsay at her feet — 
 nothing more. I don't call this love, Jeannie." 
 
 "I understand. Ah, Chatty, you know how 
 to love ! " 
 
 Just then, there was a sound of quick footsteps 
 on the stairs, and of a manly but sweet voice 
 humming an old Scotch air. Jeannie started 
 up hastily, and ran to the door. 
 
 " Lindsay, come here one minute; do, dear 
 Lindsay ! " 
 
 " And what does little Jeannie want now, eh ? " 
 
 And then he murmured something about 
 Jeannie never letting him be at peace one 
 minute, but the words were belied by the readi- 
 
BY THE SEA. 279 
 
 ness with which he obeyed her, and the pleasant 
 smile on his handsome mouth. 
 
 " Whew ! what now ? " he said, with a comical 
 whistle, and puzzled face: u upon my word, Chatty, 
 this is very complimentary to my poor flowers ; 
 but now Jeannie, didn't you do it ? " 
 
 " Now Lindsay, that's very unkind," said Jeannie, 
 half smiling, half-crying, " what do you mean ? I 
 was just as sorry about it as Chatty." 
 
 He drew her towards him, and kissed her 
 cheek, penitently, for Lindsay, even now, forgot 
 at times that Jeannie was no longer a child. 
 
 "But tell me about it, Jeannie, do." 
 
 So Jeannie told him. At the first mention 
 of Angelica's name, I saw that he coloured 
 slightly, and a curious expression passed over 
 his features ; it might be pain or vanity gratified, 
 or mere annoyance, and it might also be a com- 
 pound of all three; I cannot tell; but I was 
 inclined to think that the former feeling pre- 
 dominated, for he merely said : 
 
 "Caprice, that's all; there's no accounting 
 for those hot Indian tempers, but you shall not 
 
280 THE WHITE HOUSE BY THE SEA. 
 
 be the loser, Chatty. I will procure you some 
 more flowers — only," and lie smiled meaningly — 
 u only as your forces are so inefficient to protect 
 them, I will keep them myself till we meet in the 
 ball-room." 
 
 END OF TOL. I. 
 
 London: Printed by Smith, Elder and Co., Little Green Arbour Court. 
 
THE 
 
 WHITE HOUSE BY THE SEA. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 A stkange, incomprehensible being was Angelica ; 
 there was no shame written on her face when I 
 encountered her again; no down-looking of the 
 eyes which could be understood as a token of 
 inward humiliation at the passionate and infantine 
 malice which she had just shown. I met her 
 gaze earnestly, fixedly, and with as much 
 of — " Are you not ashamed of yourself?" as I 
 could anyhow put on, but to no purpose. I 
 suppose some people are born without a con- 
 science; certainly she had none. She opened 
 
 YOL. II. B 
 
2 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 her eyes wide when she saw me, with a most 
 unmistakeable don't-care-for-you look, and with 
 a defiant curl, or rather sneer, on her under lip 
 which told me, as plainly as the plainest words 
 could have done, that it was of no use for me to 
 carry it with a high hand, for that by so doing 
 I could neither frown her down into anything 
 like self-abasement or into a shadow of fear for 
 myself; so I felt that the best course to pursue 
 (best, as being the only practicable one) was to be 
 good-tempered about it, and show her that if she 
 was not afraid of me, I was not afraid of her; 
 and that I was by no means of too angelic a 
 frame of mind, to enjoy a laugh at her expense 
 in my own heart. 
 
 " What are you going to wear to-night, 
 Chatty?" she said to me, with the greatest sang- 
 froid, as we rose from the dinner-table. 
 
 " A white muslin." 
 
 As Jeannie spoke for me she blushed deeply. 
 
 " It is one that Jeannie has been kind enough 
 to lend me," I answered ; " I have no ball dresses 
 of my own." 
 
BY THE SEA. 3 
 
 She looked at ine hardly. 
 
 " I am not ashamed to confess my poverty," 
 I continued, with a smile. u Perhaps if I had made 
 the confession sooner you would have spared my 
 poor flowers ; I have no other ornaments." 
 
 " Pshaw ! I will lend you a dozen gold 
 bracelets — will that satisfy you ? " 
 
 I recoiled. 
 
 " I would not wear one of your bracelets for the 
 world." 
 
 "Then why harp on the wretched flowers; 
 what would you have ? If I were in your place, 
 and were too poverty-stricken to buy jewellery, 
 I should be only too glad to borrow some of 
 somebody else." 
 
 " I had rather go without them." 
 
 "Yes; you are so absurdly proud." 
 
 " But even if I were rich, I should not wear 
 much jewellery; I don't care for it. Now a 
 simple bunch of flowers that a friend has given 
 me is very different ; I should have more pleasure 
 in wearing it than I should have in all the pre- 
 cious stones and gold that are in your possession." 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 She made no answer, but fixed her dark 
 lustrous eyes upon me searchingly. 
 
 " You don't believe me," I said. 
 
 " Yes I do ; whatever you are I don't think you 
 are a hypocrite." 
 
 " Oh, thank you," I exclaimed, with a mock 
 politeness ; " you are too gracious really ! but don't 
 you agree with me?" 
 
 "About what?" 
 
 " The flowers." 
 
 " Ah, you were saying some sentimental thing 
 about the gift of a friend being more gratifying 
 to wear than " 
 
 I put my hand on her arm. 
 
 " Angelica, whatever you are, don't be a 
 hypocrite. I know that in your secret heart 
 you agree with me, or " 
 
 "Or what?" 
 
 " I am not quite such a fool as you imagine 
 me!" I answered quickly ; " besides, the deduction 
 is simple enough — or you would not have pulled 
 Lindsay's gift to pieces." 
 
 I think she was rather taken aback at my 
 
BY THE SEA. 5 
 
 plainness; at any rate she moved from my side 
 without giving me another word or look, and she 
 seldom did so when she had an expressive word or 
 look to give. 
 
 Angelica was in love with Lindsay, then ! Well, 
 I had seen it long ago ; there was no occasion for 
 me to feel annoyed or disquieted now, for was not 
 my love returned ? 
 
 Yes, I believed that he loved me. How could 
 I help believing so ? And yet — and yet a cold 
 chill came over me. Out of the intensity of my 
 love for Lindsay, arose a fear of Angelica. I 
 quailed in spirit as I thought of the terrible power 
 she held over my fate. Still, I feared less for 
 myself than for him. I could endure the thought 
 of my own unhappiness, but I could not endure 
 the thought of his misery ; and misery a union 
 with Angelica must entail upon him. 
 
 She was not intellectual; she had no heart: 
 unable as she was to be the joy and solace of a 
 domestic hearth, still less was she capable of 
 entering into the pursuits and tone of a mind so 
 cultivated and refined as his. I could bear the 
 
6 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 idea of Lindsay's loving another, but that that one 
 should be incapable of rendering him happy was 
 insupportable. 
 
 And she was clever : clever, cunning, far- 
 sighted, unprincipled, and selfish. I trembled 
 with apprehension, and grew sick at heart. Ah, 
 how little he knew of my fears and prayers for 
 his happiness ! 
 
BY THE SEA. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 cf Nearly nine o'clock ? Oh, I 'm so glad ! we 
 can go down now ; Chatty, are you ready ? " 
 
 " Yes, quite." 
 
 " How nice you look ! you haven't half looked 
 at yourself yet ; come to the large mirror in the 
 anteroom ; it 's quite empty — you must." 
 
 So, half dragging, half pushing, Jeannie led me 
 to the mirror. For a minute I stood before it, 
 and the burden of my reverie was this : — 
 
 (( So, Chatty Warne, you have metamorphosed 
 yourself from the little quiet nun of the lonely 
 White House by the Sea into a ball-room lady, and 
 have entered energetically and rapturously into the 
 * giddy round of vain delight' which hitherto you 
 have so much despised. But you don't care for 
 it : you would rather be away ? Ah, this sophistry 
 
8 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 is all very well now that you are bedecked in 
 white muslin and roses, and on the point of setting 
 your foot in the ball-room. It 's an easy thing to 
 despise what you are sure not to lose. You do 
 care for it, Chatty Warne ; you are dying with 
 anxiety to see if Lindsay Jocelyn remembers his 
 promise ; you are fevered with suspense to know 
 if among the eighty-three Ingham-Helmsley belles 
 he will show you the slightest mark of preference. 
 You fear, you tremble, you look hesitatingly and 
 diffidently on your unpretending appearance : 
 well, is the conviction new to you that you are 
 not pretty ? Did you never notice before that 
 your features are not classic ? Did you ever 
 arrogate to yourself a queenly bearing ? if so, 
 you are much deceived. You are a simple- 
 hearted sensible-looking country girl, that is all, 
 with a quiet, gentlewomanly manner, that is 
 neither majestic nor commanding, and with, 
 features not quite regular enough to be handsome, 
 but too regular to be called plain. Why, are 
 you not content now ? Do you not know, Chatty 
 Warne, that if Lindsay Jocelyn loved you, you 
 
BY THE SEA. 9 
 
 would be entirely beautiful in his eyes ? Do 
 you think every one else admires and reverences 
 him as you do ? What did Ross say ? You think 
 he hates him? of course, de facto, because Ross 
 does not hero-worship Lindsay as you do, you 
 think he hates him. Ah! there is nothing so 
 foolish as to reason with any one in love " 
 
 How long this debate between reason and feel- 
 ing would have gone on I cannot say, but at that 
 moment a shining, radiant figure was reflected in 
 the glass before me. It was Angelica, and I 
 started violently. 
 
 Never had I seen her so gorgeous and striking 
 as she appeared before us now ; (( she shimmered 
 like the sun" in a perfect galaxy of jewels and 
 gold ; her skirt, of the richest white brocade, em- 
 broidered with gilt stars and flowers, swept like a 
 train upon the ground, and the diamond tiara which 
 sparkled on her shining black hair might have 
 graced the head of majesty. Indeed, she was 
 the very personification of an eastern queen ; her 
 dusky features were perfectly formed and delicate ; 
 her eyes had that indolent, swimming look under 
 
10 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 which you can see a world of fire and passion, 
 and her figure was slight, yet rounded and 
 graceful. 
 
 We stood side by side. 
 
 In height we were much alike, but in every 
 other respect how different! Angelica thought 
 so too, for her eyes flashed triumphantly as she 
 turned to me and said — 
 
 " If you 're satisfied, Miss Charlton Warne, 
 we'll go down." 
 
 In a few minutes the ball-room began to fill; 
 Mrs. Dunstan's pale, indolent features flushed with 
 excitement and hostess-responsibility, although she 
 was energetically backed by the smooth-spoken 
 and shining Count Civray, who looked in his 
 scrupulous and affected dress the ideal of a 
 French beau passe. And oh what a mixed and 
 motley assemblage were there ! First of all were 
 the Vellacotts : Mr. Vellacott is a clergyman ; 
 he gets three hundred a year, and on this he 
 supports a wife who must have a sea-coast cottage 
 every autumn, and cannot dine at any other hour 
 but aristocratic seven; five daughters who ride 
 
BY THE SEA. 11 
 
 single, who are too well bred to learn anything 
 of household duties but to order the servants and 
 the fashionable but most uncomfortable meals, 
 and whose duty and delight it is to excommuni- 
 cate all the Sunday school children who give way 
 to the vanity of curls or parasols ; seven sons 
 who, of course, "being nephews to the Bishop 
 
 of N ," must be brought up to professions ; and 
 
 two servants ! On my word, in spite of the seven 
 o'clock dinners and the mutton hashes, I pity the 
 servants least of all. They, at least, if they share 
 the burden, have not the ambition and humiliation 
 of gentility. The Misses Vellacott are tall girls 
 who might be more prepossessing if their carriage 
 was not so ungraceful and their dress a little 
 more neat, but I must confess their conversation 
 does not please me ; they are continually dilating 
 on the elegancies and luxuries of their home, the 
 strawberry parties, the musical soirees, the green- 
 house beauties, the plentiful supply of new and 
 expensive books, the multifarious masters, and the 
 forty guinea ponies. Now, it is a particular and 
 obstinate idiosyncrasy of mine to be somewhat 
 
12 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 incredulous of what is insisted upon with so much 
 pains. I have always observed that with a certain 
 class of vain and aspiring people it is a rule to be 
 continually asserting their right to something to 
 which they have not the least pretensions. Now 
 this is a great folly, and the more to be wondered 
 at, since it is so easily seen through. But revenons 
 a nos danseurs : then there were all the richest 
 and smartest of the Ingham-Helmsley shipowners, 
 for the most part individuals of one stamp and 
 set; good-natured, doubtless, and kind-hearted, 
 but whose character, both in the abstract and 
 concrete, you could read at once ; for, backwards 
 or forwards, spelled which way you will, there was 
 but one signature — love and admiration of money. 
 You could see it in the comprehensive glance with 
 which the heads of the families took in an average 
 estimate, rating all conclusive signs and evidences, 
 the annual amount of Mrs. Dunstan's income ; 
 you could see it in the way in which the younger 
 members looked superciliously from your un- 
 adorned white muslin to their stiff satins and 
 blazing jewellery. And the aristocracy of 
 
BY THE SEA. 13 
 
 Ingham-Helinsley were there also ; Sir Bingham 
 Lloyd and his vulgar wife ; Sir John Markham, 
 M.P.; and Lord K 's daughters (the pater- 
 familias is unfortunately confined by gout up- 
 stairs every Christmas, just when the tradesmen 
 most want him below), the Honourable Ciren- 
 cester Pyne, who ran off with another man's wife 
 because he couldn't afford to keep his own ; and 
 a multitude of others — young, old, middle-aged — 
 all smiling, all bland, all apparently delighted 
 with each other. Ah, how little does the surface 
 resemble that which lies underneath ! 
 
 It was past ten o'clock, and as yet Lindsay had 
 not appeared. " It 's a little vanity of dear 
 Lindsay's," Jeannie whispered to me, " to be late ; 
 do you understand ? he likes to create a sensation, 
 it amuses him. How Angelica is watching for 
 him ! see, how she plumes herself whenever the 
 door is opened; she anticipates a triumph to- 
 night, but she doesn't know Lindsay. Well, we '11 
 see : I hope she won't get one." 
 
 Then Jeannie looked in Angelica's direction 
 again, and added — 
 
14 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " She will get attention, of course ; all handsome 
 coquettes do." 
 
 Presently, a tall and striking-looking man 
 entered the room ; there was an involuntary hush, 
 for all eyes were turned on the new-comer. It 
 was Lindsay. He advanced slowly up the room, 
 with an easy gracefulness and nonchalance of 
 carriage that was very foreign to the would- 
 be prepossession, and affected man-of-the-world-ism 
 of the fashionable young men of Ingham-Helmsley : 
 a quiet almost thoughtful smile played on his 
 lips, as he returned the gracious salutations which 
 were given him, and he was just known enough to 
 be interesting to such stranger-seeking, stranger- 
 loving people as Mrs. Dunstan's guests. A vacant 
 chair was by Angelica; he passed it, and I saw 
 her eyes flash with rising anger as he did so. My 
 heart beat quickly with an indefinite sensation of 
 joy. In another moment he was by my side. 
 
 u You see," he said, softly, " that I have not 
 forgotten my promise." 
 
 Then bending down, he fastened a small cluster 
 of roses to my brooch, and added — 
 
BY THE SEA. 15 
 
 " You deserve double and treble such a 
 service as this, for I owe you so much." 
 
 " Me ! what have I done for you ? " I asked 
 tremblingly, for his presence always unnerved 
 me. 
 
 " Much ; to you I owe the chief pleasure of 
 this evening — your presence." 
 
 Then he exclaimed in a different voice — 
 
 " You have never been in a ball-room before ; 
 what do you think of it all ? " 
 
 "The question is a difficult one. I hardly 
 know yet what my ideas are." 
 
 " Analyse them : do you like it ? " 
 
 " I do not know ; I feel very happy " 
 
 "As happy as ever you felt in your life 
 before ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I have not often been very happy." 
 
 For a minute he looked at me searchingly. 
 
 "And yet," he continued, musingly, "it would 
 be difficult for you to name one individual cause 
 for this feeling ; is it not so ? It does not arise 
 from finding yourself in such society, refined 
 of mind, and faultless of manners, though it be ! " 
 
16 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 This was said with irony, and I smiled. 
 
 "Oh no, no!" 
 
 "And it does not arise from the mere love 
 of gaiety ; your taste does not lie that way. Right 
 again, Chatty?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Ah ! " he said, gaily, " had I the wisdom of 
 forty Solomons, I can see by your face, Chatty, 
 that you are determined my wisdom shall not 
 prevail against you. You will not tell me ? " 
 
 " Not for the world." 
 
 "Then I shall imagine it to be just what I 
 please. They are forming for a quadrille. Give 
 me your hand." 
 
 After the quadrille, came a Lancer's. Lindsay 
 danced with Jeannie this time, but they were vis-a- 
 vis to me, and as my companion only addressed me 
 once, and then to ask if I did not think the room 
 growing excessively warm, looking excessively 
 sheepish whilst he did so, I could hear all the 
 witty and pleasant things Lindsay w T as saying, and 
 for which he invariably looked to me for an 
 answer. And so the hours wore on : and he 
 
BY THE SEA. 17 
 
 was never long from my side, and I was very 
 happy, except now and then, when amidst the 
 white drapery and festoons a pair of black shining 
 eyes flashed on me with a jealous and passionate 
 look. 
 
 Only once I saw him with her ; her head 
 was raised to his, and she was speaking to him 
 with a variable and hurried manner, — now 
 pleadingly, reproachfully — now vehemently, ener- 
 getically — her eyes changing their expression as 
 she spoke, from softness to eagerness, and from 
 eagerness to softness again, as her voice altered. 
 Twice Lindsay bent his head low, and answered 
 her. He did not say much, two or three words 
 only, but Angelica laid her hand on his arm 
 significantly, and looked up into his face with 
 a grateful look ; then they were both silent. 
 
 Strange, but at that moment I remembered 
 Ross's words, and the remembrance sent a pang 
 through my heart. 
 
 "Pshaw! 'tis nothing. Angelica has been 
 scolding him because he hasn't danced with her ; 
 that 's all : and he has promised to be more 
 
 VOL. II. c 
 
18 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 attentive in future. He told me a little while 
 ago that he expected a regular storm." 
 
 It was Jeannie who spoke ; she had suddenly 
 broken in on my reverie, and divined with 
 uncommon tact the subject of my thoughts. I 
 blushed at my own self-deception, and took care 
 not to welcome the terrible thought again. 
 
 By and by the dancing-room cleared : parties of 
 two and four strolled up and down the music 
 gallery, through the refreshment rooms and 
 conservatory, and groups were knotted at every 
 entrance; there was a warm perfume of flowers 
 and wine, and a low indistinct murmur of much 
 conversation. Lindsay was again with us ; he 
 had not mentioned Angelica's name, but when 
 she passed us he averted his face and smiled 
 sarcastically. The smile was directed to me, and 
 I read in it a deep meaning. 
 
 " Come into the hall," said Jeannie, rising ; " I 
 think it will be cool there, for no one seems to 
 know where to find it, and I want to have 
 you see how pretty the flower-stands and statues 
 and Chinese lamps look, Lindsay; you know 
 
BY THE SEA. 19 
 
 it was fitted up entirely according to my direc- 
 tion. 
 
 Lindsay rose, for he was always pleased to 
 praise Jeannie, and we weEt. 
 
 It was charming ; the entrance-ways, all except- 
 ing one, were hidden by rows of winter shrubs 
 and flowers, in huge pots of fantastic shape, and 
 among which were placed vases and statuary, 
 shining out from the dark green leaves. The 
 place was only partially lighted — here Jeannie's 
 taste had done her good stead — by brightly 
 coloured Chinese lamps; and though we could 
 hear the surrounding hum of conversation, it 
 was very quiet and refreshing. 
 
 Lindsay was very silent; his face resting on 
 his hand, and his eyes fixed on the ground, 
 abstractedly, and we were quiet also. Once he 
 said — 
 
 "Do not let us go back again yet;" and there 
 was almost a sadness in his voice; but that was 
 all. 
 
 At last, when the music began, Jeannie jumped 
 up, saying she had forgotten an engagement with 
 
 C 2 
 
20 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Mr. Erasmus Vellacott for the next waltz. When 
 she was gone, Lindsay turned to me and began — 
 " What a dear child Jeannie is ? " 
 " Yes ; who could help loving her ? " 
 " No one ; I am not sure that she has a fault. 
 Do you think she likes me, Chatty ? " 
 " I am sure of it." 
 
 "I am rejoiced to hear you say so. I am 
 very fond of her ; she is like a little sister to me. 
 How she loves you ! " 
 {f I have no other friend." 
 Then I corrected myself, and added — 
 " At least, I have only one other." 
 I blushed, and Lindsay knit his brows : 
 " Then you do not consider me a friend ? " he 
 said, in a half-offended tone. 
 " I said one other." 
 
 " And that one is Mr. Stirling : it is not so ? " 
 I hesitated. 
 
 " Chatty," he continued, in a reproachful voice, 
 " I am disappointed. I had hoped that you 
 would at least bestow on me the name of 
 friend." 
 
BY TEE SEA. 21 
 
 He drew back, with contracted brow and 
 compressed lips. 
 
 " Forgive me," I said, mustering courage, " I did 
 not mean that — I should be glad and proud — oh, 
 Lindsay, I have so few friends ; you will forgive 
 my words, and let me look up to you as a friend, 
 will you not ? " 
 
 He held out his hand to me, with his old 
 playful kindly smile, and clasped mine with a 
 friendly touch. 
 
 " A contract," he said smiling, " never to be 
 broken." 
 
 At that moment ; when the words were hardly 
 out of his lips, and his hand still held mine, there 
 was a rustle in the green leaves behind me ; and 
 before I could turn my head to look, the string 
 which had confined the marble Diana to its place 
 gave way : the statue reeled — it fell — fell with 
 a heavy and sharp blow on my forehead. My eyes 
 swam ; a feeling of sickness and giddiness came 
 over me, and the blood streamed down from the 
 wound on to the ground. Then Lindsay bore me, 
 
22 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 strongly and tenderly, as if I were a child, to my 
 own room ; and though I was stunned and faint and 
 speechless, I forgot half the pain in the pleasure of 
 listening to the solicitude of the beloved voice. 
 
BY THE SEA. 23 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Aftee my wound had been dressed, and the 
 physician was gone, Lindsay rose to go ; only 
 Jeannie would be left in the room, and a vague 
 sense of fear overpowered me. I held out my 
 hand as if to detain him, and whispered — 
 
 " Oh, do not go yet — please do not, till Susan 
 comes." 
 
 He smiled a kind assent, and seated himself on 
 a chair, beside the sofa, on which I lay. Jeannie 
 sat on a little stool by the fire opposite, regarding 
 me with anxious and affectionate looks. 
 
 When I spoke, she bent her head forward and 
 said, in a low voice, to Lindsay — 
 
 " She seems to be under a fear of something. 
 How strange it is! so courageous as Chatty is 
 in ordinary too." 
 
 She regarded him questioningly, but he only 
 
24 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 shook his head, and raised his finger to his lips, as 
 if to enjoin silence. 
 
 How heavy and complete that silence was ! I 
 lay perfectly motionless, and without the power 
 of stirring, gazing with fixed, strained, fearful 
 eyes on the half-opened door. I could not see 
 anything else. I tried to see anything, think of 
 anything, but that dreadful door ; it was no use, 
 and the fascination was agony. By and by I 
 saw a tall figure move softly, very softly across 
 the room, shut the door and bolt it. Then I 
 looked in that direction no more, and felt as if I 
 could rest. It was not so. Once or twice, indeed, I 
 closed my eyes and slept. But oh, what a dreadful 
 sleep was that ! the nightmare visions were even 
 worse than the day hallucinations. A horrible numb- 
 ness and powerlessness seemed to paralyze me like 
 a spell ; and a fiendlike shape, omnipresent and 
 revengeful, hovered near, intent to take away my 
 life. I tried to break away from the charm — to rise 
 — to flee away, but I could not, and awoke, crying — 
 
 " She is coming, she is coming ! Lindsay, save 
 me!" 
 
BY THE SEA. 25 
 
 They both rose in alarm, and stood beside me. 
 Jeannie pressed her cool palm on my burning 
 forehead, and Lindsay took my trembling hands 
 in his. 
 
 " It was a dream," I said, in a faint voice ; "oh 
 do not let me go to sleep again." 
 
 "You shall not," he said, gently; "and we are 
 both with you — Jeannie and I." 
 
 By and by there was a tap at the door. I 
 started convulsively. 
 
 " It 's only Susan ! " Jeannie exclaimed ; " shall 
 I let her in, Chatty dear ? " 
 
 Susan was a privileged " old servant " of Mrs. 
 Dunstan's, of strong nerves, good heart and sound 
 principles ; consequently she was trustworthy and 
 trusted : nothing could be done without her, and 
 nothing was kept from her. 
 
 " Oh yes ; I shall be quite contented with her ; 
 and do you both go to rest, you need it." 
 
 " I do not : and if I were, I could sleep in the 
 arm-chair here, by the fire," answered Jeannie, 
 decisively. "I would not leave you for the 
 world." 
 
26 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " You are quite right, Jeannie ; .good night, 
 then." He bent over me, and added, in a 
 lower key, "Be composed, I entreat you, and 
 try and rest tranquilly; when the excitement 
 of the first shock is over you will feel much 
 better ; believe me, there is nothing to fear now ; 
 and even if there were, shall not I watch over 
 you?" 
 
 I tried to smile my thanks, and then he went. 
 Jeannie shut the door, barred it, and, having 
 assisted Susan in undressing me, ensconced 
 herself on the sofa I had quitted; Susan took 
 the arm-chair, and Lindsay's words acting like 
 a charm upon me, I fell into a sweet and soothing 
 sleep. It did not last long, however; I awoke 
 with a nervous, throbbing pain at my temples, 
 and an overworn, listless sensation that I had 
 never experienced before. By daylight the 
 physician was at my bedside again. 
 
 " You have had a restless night ? " he said, 
 abruptly. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And yet I administered a sedative, and you 
 
BY THE SEA. 27 
 
 are unused to them, are you not ; you have never 
 been very ill before ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Strange." 
 
 He scrutinized me minutely for a few minutes, 
 and then continued — 
 
 " And you are not constitutionally nervous ?" 
 
 " Not in the least." 
 
 Again he mused. 
 
 " It was not the accident alone that can have 
 so affected vou. There was some other cause 
 associated with it; am I not right?" 
 
 I assented, and he motioned Susan to leave 
 the room; Jeannie had left it an hour since at 
 my entreaty to take some real rest in her own 
 room, and the physician and I were alone. He 
 was a tall, uncommon looking man, with quiet 
 down-looking eyes that to some observers might 
 seem to denote an indolent and careless tempera- 
 ment, but which I have always found, on further 
 study, characterize a type of men (and those 
 down-looking, unrevealing eyes are rare) who 
 read others well, but are never read; who see 
 
28 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 farthest but are never supposed to see anything at 
 all. And such individuals are close students of 
 the philosophy of human nature. 
 
 " There is some one in this house, " I said, in a 
 lowered but distinct voice, " who hates me." 
 
 " Go on, you have something else to say?" 
 
 " And the cause of her hate is — jealousy." 
 
 ** Is there any ground for it ? " 
 
 " Perhaps so ! " I answered, flushing slightly. 
 
 The face opposite to mine assumed a very 
 grave look. I could see that Dr. Lambert's 
 shrewd surmises had filled up my suggestions 
 accurately. 
 
 " You cannot advise me, sir ? " I said, despond- 
 ingly. 
 
 " I am afraid not ; your case is a very peculiar 
 and difficult one ; the only safe course would be 
 to " 
 
 " Go away ? That would imply cowardice." 
 
 " Yes, I am aware of it ; but consider — only to 
 one person that cowardice would be apparent, and 
 that one — knowing what she is, what matters it 
 what her opinion of you may be ? " 
 
BY THE SEA. 29 
 
 " You guess, then ? " 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 "Of course; do you think I have attended 
 this house so long and not formed an estimate 
 of the members? But, my dear young lady, 
 some course must be taken. Are 3-011 aware that 
 there is Spanish as well as Indian blood in her 
 veins?" 
 
 Involuntarily I shuddered. 
 
 "Do not distress yourself now," said Dr. 
 Lambert, kindly, "a few days hence will do; 
 keep to your room, and try to be as composed as 
 you can : as long as you are a prisoner here, / 
 can answer for your safety." 
 
 Then he rang for Susan, spoke a few words 
 to her in an undertone, shook hands cordially 
 with me, and went. 
 
30 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Dr. Lambert and I became good friends. He 
 was interested in me, and I knew it; besides, 
 though there was so much necessary difference 
 between myself and the clever experienced doctor, 
 and though in character there could be hardly 
 a point of resemblance, there was a tone and 
 idiosyncrasy of his mind into which I could enter 
 at once, and comprehend perfectly. This he saw, 
 and it pleased him. 
 
 Almost a week passed ; my wound was healing 
 fast, and with returning strength returned some- 
 thing of my old courage also ; but I still kept to 
 my own room, and Dr. Lambert, although his 
 visits could hardly be termed professional ones 
 now, still continued them daily. 
 
 K Miss Warne," he said to me one day, after 
 
BY THE SEA. 31 
 
 we had had a long conversation, " I wish you 
 had not been a lady — I mean that you had been 
 of the other sex." 
 
 "Why so, sir?" I asked, smiling at his 
 earnestness. 
 
 « Why ? because you have the stuff in you 
 to make a man ! and very rare material that is 
 now-a-days ; well, in the first place you have 
 got brains — your perceptive powers are quick, 
 active, and correct ; in the next place, you have 
 got a mind — all the experiences, reflections, and 
 conclusions that you have harvested up are of 
 use to you. You can perceive, but, what is a far 
 rarer faculty, you can reason. On my word, 
 Miss Warne, you surprise me — your educa- 
 tion " 
 
 " I have had none, sir." 
 
 " Pardon me," resumed the physician, tartly, 
 ff you have had the very best education, for you 
 have been self-taught ; but you do surprise me, 
 I assure you. Your life has been uniformly spent 
 at Ingham, I believe, you have informed me ? " 
 
 " Entirely so." 
 
32 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 u And I have not known one woman in fifty — 
 not one in a hundred — under twenty, who 
 has shown, even in a long acquaintance, the 
 acuteness of observation, and the just and clear 
 discrimination that you have shown me during 
 our short intercourse. Yet I have known women 
 of all ages, spheres, and characters, women who 
 have travelled half their lives, women who 
 have lived in large circles of society, both in 
 London and Paris — and you have never been 
 beyond a little out-of-the-way old-fashioned town 
 on the coast. But what matters it? Human 
 nature is the same every where. Tis but the 
 same word spelled differently. You would like 
 to travel, I dare say?" 
 
 " Very much." 
 
 " Of course ; and if you went up the Rhine 
 and came home by Paris you would think you 
 had seen the world. Some American writer calls 
 travelling a 6 fool's paradise ; ' I don't quite think 
 so. There is much to be learned in foreign 
 travel, doubtless ; but on an average, take a 
 man who has spent half his life in wandering 
 
BY THE SEA. 33 
 
 up and down the world — who has seen Athens, 
 Jerusalem, and Rome ; take another who has 
 reached the same term of life, but which he has 
 passed in some active calling in a great city or 
 community ; let them both be of mediocre abilities, 
 neither quite sages or fools, and ten to one if the 
 latter be not the wiser of the two, and the most 
 useful member of society as well. You agree 
 with me?" 
 
 " As far my knowledge of the subject guides 
 me, quite." 
 
 " Of course ; so you would if your knowledge 
 of the thing were a half-century's experience. 
 You 're no fool, Miss Warne, I assure you." 
 
 " I am glad you think so, sir." 
 
 " Ah," said the doctor, contemplatively drawing 
 on his glove, " a strange patchwork is society, 
 and the human character in general ! and we 
 country practitioners, though some might not 
 think so, get a good many insights and gleanings 
 thereof. By the by, you needn't wear that 
 bandage again ; never mind the look of the scar, 
 it will soon go. Well, and what determination 
 
 VOL. IL d 
 
34 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 have you come to? — to face the enemy like a 
 true-born Briton ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, there is nothing else to be done." 
 
 " I thought so ; though if I were in your place 
 I must say I do not think I should be so brave 
 about it. Open warfare I don't mind, but Spanish 
 jealousy and Indian stealth, where a cavalier 
 is concerned, is quite another thing. Poisons, 
 stilettos, sharp marble vases hurled at one 
 unawares ; really," he added, with a shrug of the 
 shoulders, but smiling nevertheless, " these are 
 not at all to my taste. Good-bye. Keep up here 
 till I come again." 
 
 The doctor's retreating steps had hardly died 
 away when Jeannie opened the door on tip-toe. 
 
 " Are you alone, Chatty ? " she almost 
 whispered. 
 
 " Quite. But why, Jeannie, what 's the 
 matter ? " 
 
 She had flung herself into my arms, and was 
 weeping violently. 
 
 " What can it be ? Do tell me ; you do not 
 know how distressed I am." 
 
BY THE SEA. 35 
 
 " The Count — the Count ! " sobbed Jeannie, 
 more bitterly than ever. 
 
 " Count Civray ; what of him ? He isn't 
 going to marry you, nolens volens, is he?" 
 
 The sobs continued. 
 
 " My dear Jeannie," I said, tenderly, " I 
 ought not to have jested with you at such a 
 time. Look up, say that you forgive me, and 
 tell me what this grief is." 
 
 My quiet, earnest words were not without 
 effect; she dried her eyes, and said — 
 
 u Oh, Chatty, mamma has just told me she is 
 going to marry the Count ! " 
 
 "Marry him?" 
 
 I did not wonder at Jeannie's tears now ; and 
 my heart was very sad for her. 
 
 " Yes," continued the poor child, stopping in her 
 sentences to give way to a fresh burst of tears, 
 " and she says that she will for the future 
 live mostly in Paris, and I hate Paris so, and that 
 very likely she will never come to Ingham 
 again, and oh. Chatty, I detest him so much ! 
 How can I be happy, having to live in his house 
 
 D 2 
 
36 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 always, and to pay him respect as if he were 
 my father : and to think that I shall have to live 
 in Paris, and never see you " 
 
 " Do not say never, Jeannie." 
 
 " It will almost be never, for the Count hates 
 watering places, and mamma says it is high time 
 for me to be polished up by society. Oh dear, 
 Chatty, I am so unhappy; and I made mamma 
 angry too." 
 
 "How was that?" 
 
 " She called me into the drawing-room, to tell 
 me of tins, and the Count was there too, and 
 when she told me to rush into the arms of my new 
 father, I stood still, looking downcast enough, and 
 feeling ready to cry. Then the Count said, ' Mees 
 is vare ashamed,' meaning shy, but I exclaimed, 
 ' Oh no, monsieur, I am not shy at all,' and ran out 
 of the room. Of course mamma was very angry, 
 and when he was gone called me to her, and told 
 me how very unbecoming my conduct was, and I 
 really was sorry. But that horrid Count ! — I felt 
 so mortified and vexed. How can mamma like 
 him!" 
 
BY THE SEA. 37 
 
 " Beauty is in the eyes of a gazer ; yonr 
 mamma often wonders why you like me so much." 
 
 " But she likes you too, in her way, and so does 
 every one — except Angelica. This is the last day 
 of Lindsay's stay; can't you come down-stairs?" 
 she asked, her thoughts suddenly turned into 
 another channel. 
 
 " Dr. Lambert ordered me not, but I should 
 very much like to do so. When is he coming 
 again ? " 
 
 " Lindsay ? oh, it will not be long, but he will 
 only be able to stay a day or two. What a 
 pleasant Christmas I thought this was to be ! " 
 
 " So it has been in some respects." 
 
 " It would have been all along, but for Angelica 
 and the Count," murmured poor Jeannie, dolefully. 
 
 "But I try to be happy in spite of Angelica, 
 and you must do the same, in spite of the Count." 
 
 " I will try," she said, gravely, " but I cannot be 
 like you, Chatty." 
 
 " And what time is Lindsay going ? " 
 By the nine o'clock train, I think. Ah, now 
 
 remember I am sure of it, for mamma has asked 
 
38 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 some people to dinner, and he said lie would stay 
 as late as lie could. He will come and say good 
 bye to you, of course ; I will arrange the room, 
 and make it look pretty ; Lindsay notices these 
 things so." 
 
 So, forgetful of the terrible Count, she busied 
 about, with a glad and childish gracefulness 
 which warmed my heart to see ; and marvellous 
 was the effect of her touching-up — the room 
 looked quite bright and elegant ; then, promising 
 me that she would return when her toilette was 
 over, she left me to dress for the dinner party. 
 
 At six o'clock, the guests arrived, and I was 
 left again alone. Susan offered me her com- 
 panionship, but I liked best to be alone, and 
 my nervousness had quite worn off, although I 
 still felt a dread of Angelica's society. So, 
 stirring up my little fire to a bright blaze, I leant 
 back in the arm-chair and fell into a reverie. 
 
 By and by, I heard the sound of music. 
 The dinner was over then, and the guests were 
 in the drawing-room. Would he not seize the 
 opportunity now ? 
 
BY THE SEA. 39 
 
 The moments passed slowly. I sat in still 
 sorrowful loneliness, and quivered and grew pale 
 at every sound. 
 
 The clock struck eight. Only one hour 
 more! 
 
 Oh, how tumultuously and expectantly my 
 heart beat! He had called himself my friend: 
 was I so valued, that only the frivolities of a 
 dinner-party were sufficient to banish me from 
 his thoughts ? 
 
 At length the stillness and solitude became 
 insupportable to me. I could bear the suspense 
 of my prison no longer ; and, opening the door 
 gently, paced up and down the corridor. 
 
 I could hear no sound, save now and then a 
 door was opened in the servants' hall, and the 
 faint murmurs of conversation came to me from 
 the drawing-room below. It was a bright clear 
 night ; a night reminding me of that one on 
 which I had stood, he had come to my side to 
 ask me to be at the ball — his hair had touched 
 my forehead as he bent over me, and his voice 
 had murmured, in low earnest tones : " Do not 
 
40 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 refuse — I would grant you any favour you might 
 ask me." And all that he required of me, had 
 been my presence. 
 
 I leaned upon the balustrade, and looked out 
 of the same window where we had stood together. 
 As I gazed on the beautiful stars in their calm 
 grandeur, my eyes filled with tears. I felt that 
 I wronged him by this mistrustfulness ; the doubt 
 and bitterness of my heart passed away, and it 
 expanded and overflowed with happiness. 
 
 Suddenly I heard the sound of voices and foot- 
 steps, on the gravel path beneath. Involuntarily 
 I held my breath and leaned forward. I could 
 see nothing clearly, but so silent and hushed 
 was the night, that every word and expression 
 of these two voices reached my ears with perfect 
 distinctness. One was Angelica's and the 
 other — the other was his ! 
 
 And he was saying : 
 
 " Love her ? oh no. But is there not a triumph 
 in winning love, even when you have none to give 
 in return ? " 
 
 I did not faint — I did not utter a sound — but 
 
BT THE SEA. 41 
 
 silently, very silently, I drew back from the 
 window, and closing the door of my little room, 
 sat down tearless, marble-like and subdued. For 
 the iron had entered into my soul, and the gate 
 of my Paradise was shut for ever. 
 
42 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 I heard his step on the oaken staircase. Another 
 time the sound of that light springing tread, 
 that my heart could tell from a hundred, would 
 have made it dance and beat high with joy ; but 
 now 
 
 I sent back the tide of overwhelming emotions 
 with a strong agonised effort, and rose to meet 
 him with a stony look, and a voice from which 
 life and hope had died away, but it was calm. 
 That was all I wanted. 
 
 " So I am come to say good-bye, little prisoner," 
 he exclaimed, in the same unchanged musical 
 tones ; " but I hope you will be free from your 
 chains when I come again." 
 
 " I shake them off to-day, " I answered, 
 studiously keeping my back to the light. 
 
 "I am delighted to hear it; still, I do not 
 
BY THE SEA. 43 
 
 think your ( Prison Hours' have been unhappy 
 ones; the fetters hung lightly on you?" 
 
 " Very lightly." 
 
 We had been unconsciously following up an 
 allegory, and my last words were spoken with 
 sadness. 
 
 " But," I exclaimed, feigning gaiety and break- 
 ing from the constraint, "chains are chains 
 nevertheless, and I am glad to be free again. 
 And you are returning to London?" 
 
 "Yes. The duties of my life compel me to 
 forego its pleasures; a professional man's time 
 is no longer his own; he gives it to society, 
 and society is ungrateful ; I am tired of it. Our 
 rewards are unworthy our services." 
 
 " But then there is " I hesitated. 
 
 " What ? pray finish your sentence." 
 
 "The ambition of rising. Is not that some- 
 thing?" 
 
 "That is a true woman's speech. Chatty, 
 Chatty, ambition in books and ambition in prac- 
 tice are different things. But I know what you 
 mean, and I have felt the meaning of the word 
 
44 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 once. Ambition in its noblest and purest sense — 
 it was a long time ago." 
 
 The uncertain blaze of the fire shone on his 
 face as he spoke, and there was a light in his 
 eyes and a quiver in his lips. 
 
 " Ah," he exclaimed, changing his tone and 
 turning away, " that was a long time ago ; in 
 my romantic days, Chatty, when my cheek was 
 smooth, and my heart simple, I fell in love. 
 Voila tout! Well, I suppose I must soon say 
 good-bye — but I hate the word so." 
 
 I averted my face, and did not speak. 
 
 "I have no bright hours in my existence," he 
 continued, " save those which are spent here ; 
 and your presence has contributed so much to 
 make them so." 
 
 I still looked towards the fire. I felt that I 
 was turning death-pale. A cold dew gathered 
 on my forehead. I trembled from head to foot. 
 Oh, had he known how I loved him, would he — 
 could he have been so cruel ? Just then the door 
 was opened suddenly by one of Mrs. Dunstan's 
 servants : 
 
BY THE SEA. 45 
 
 iS If you please, sir, the horse is ready ; and it 
 wants only a quarter to nine, sir." 
 
 " Coming directly : tell Thompson, he can ride 
 on and get my ticket." 
 
 The servant retired. 
 
 " Then I suppose I must go." 
 
 He approached me, and held out his hand ; 
 as I stepped forward, the light of the fire flickered 
 on my troubled, tear-wet face : I saw the colour 
 heighten on his cheek ; and, as if moved by some 
 sudden impulse, it might be by compassion, he 
 stooped hastily, and pressed his lips upon my 
 brow. 
 
 In less than a minute more, he had mounted 
 his horse and galloped off. I listened till the 
 sound of the horses' feet had died away in the 
 distance. Then I buried my face in my hands 
 and wept. 
 
46 THE "WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 There are some circumstances in life that bring 
 upon our hearts in the space of one hour, the 
 shadows and heaviness of many years. We awake 
 with the sun and are glad; the birds sing, the air 
 is perfumed with the breath of manifold sweet 
 flowers; the cool untroubled waters reflect the sky- 
 blue of the heavens, where the lark carols joyfully. 
 Then in a moment all is changed; the earth is as 
 fair as it ever was; no change has come to the 
 skies, and woods, and streams; all is smiling, 
 serene and beautiful — but the unseen serpent has 
 entered into our Eden, and it is Eden no longer. 
 And I think that to the young there is no sorrow 
 so killing, so utterly hopeless and deep-sinking as 
 to find that the friend we loved and trusted, and 
 prayed for — the one of all others in the wide 
 
BY THE SEA. 47 
 
 world to whom we have given the wealth of our 
 inner-world of affections — is careless of our love — 
 contemptuous of our trustfulness, and unworthy of 
 our friendship. 
 
 A beloved one goes down into the grave, and 
 the place he has filled is empty, and the hearth 
 which knew him is desolate. We pour out our 
 sorrow in tears, but not as those who have no 
 hope; for his heart was loyal till the end, and 
 there is no cloud on the memory which is dearer 
 to us than any living thing. But when our rich 
 and unlimited affections are played with, mocked 
 at, and trod under foot, by one whom we felt that 
 we could not love too well, for this there is no cure 
 but repentance and the slow consolation of time! 
 
 And oh ! if they to whom the winning of youthful 
 and unsuspecting hearts is merely a sport and an 
 amusement — if, I say, they could but know to the 
 full extent the pain and the wrong they inflict — 
 could they but know how often their lightness 
 and fickleness are the seeds of a whole life's 
 unhappiness and evil, is it possible they would not 
 relent and forbear? 
 
48 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Call it fickleness- — call it amusement who will, 
 but it is something more. Effects are difficult 
 to be estimated in their multitude and variety, 
 but causes once clearly arrived at are easily 
 weighed; and if he is called a murderer who 
 takes away the life of his fellow, what shall he be 
 called who robs an existence of much happiness, 
 often of much good, sometimes of both, till all 
 that was fair and holy is warped by an infinitude 
 of evil ? 
 
BY THE SEA. -49 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 But I was not crushed. After the first outburst 
 of grief had passed away, indignation and pride took 
 its place. The old Charlton spirit rose within me. 
 I had loved him, but I would love him no longer; I 
 could love the Lindsay of my imagination, the 
 brave, noble-hearted, generous Lindsay of former 
 days; the other — the one who had been so heart- 
 less and so cruel — henceforth I must despise. I 
 would try to forget him. Alas, it was very hard 
 to forget what had a day before been the sunshine 
 and glory of my life. 
 
 So, it had come to this. Lindsay was cowardly, 
 false, mean. He had stooped to deceit, he had 
 stooped to baseness, he had stooped to treachery. 
 
 VOL. II. E 
 
50 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Who then was to be trusted ? Since my temple 
 had fallen to the ground, the whole earth seemed 
 to crumble from my feet. I tried to be calm, 
 resigned, but I never knew till now what resigna- 
 tion meant. 
 
 The whole house was hushed, but I could not 
 sleep. I fell into a retrospect of other days. I 
 recalled the night I had first met him; every 
 feature and occurrence of that evening's adventure 
 rose before me in minute distinctness. I re- 
 membered quite well papa's bewilderment, and the 
 scene in the kitchen of the lonely White House by 
 the Sea. Lindsay leaning against the wall, his 
 arms folded, and the bright locks hanging over 
 his brow. How I had trembled when he spoke to 
 me, and when I encountered the gaze of those 
 fine thoughtful eyes, Mrs. Dunstan's affectation 
 and Angelica's rudeness. Ah, she hated me from 
 the first ! well, she had no cause to hate me now. 
 Somehow, I looked back very regretfully to the 
 White House now. My life there was troubled and 
 sad, every day brought forth trials and difficulties — 
 
BY THE SEA. 51 
 
 poverty, despondency and loneliness: all these I 
 had to contend with, and yet I looked back to 
 them. Is this difficult to understand? There I 
 was unenvied and peaceful; there I had loved 
 Lindsay Jocelvn, and had not known him. 
 
 Poor, poor papa! could he have seen me then 
 he would not have thought I was obeying his last 
 command. 
 
 When I awoke the next morning, having fallen 
 into an uncomfortable sleep at daybreak, Jeannie 
 was standing by my bedside with a letter in her 
 hand. 
 
 " Why, Chatty, dear," she exclaimed, " how un- 
 easily you have been sleeping ! you were dreaming 
 some horrible thing I am sure, for you have been 
 saying such strange, wild things. Well, I have got 
 a letter for you." 
 
 "Forme?" 
 
 " Yes ; read it." 
 
 Instantly the thought flashed across my brain 
 that it must be from Lindsay, for I was but half 
 awake, and all sorts of impossible contingencies flew 
 over my mind in the space of a second; I took it 
 
 E 2 
 
52 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 from her with trembling hands. But it ran as 
 follows: — 
 
 " My dear Child — Come to me at once. I know 
 that I am demanding a sacrifice of you, but I also 
 know well that it will be made. My carriage can 
 wait any length of time it will require you to 
 make your preparations for departure. 
 
 "Your affectionate friend, 
 
 " Edward Stirling." 
 
 Mr. Stirling little thought how pleasant obedi- 
 ence was. To be free from Angelica's hateful 
 society — from the painfulness and misery of Lind- 
 say's presence — to go away — anywhere, so as it were 
 but away — oh, it seemed to me that this letter was 
 a mercy from Heaven ! 
 
 i( I will go at once," I said. 
 
 " Go ? go where ? what do you mean ? " asked 
 poor Jeamiie, in extreme bewilderment. 
 
 I put the letter in her hand. 
 
 " Send me up a cup of coffee, Jeannie, will you, 
 and a morsel of toast. I can be ready in half an 
 hour with your help. Don't cry, dear ; I must go, 
 
BY THE SEA. 53 
 
 you know, since he wishes it ; and I shall see you 
 often." 
 
 "That horrid Count and Angelica," — sobbed 
 Jeannie, " and you away! What shall I do without 
 you?" 
 
 "My dear Jeannie," I said, gravely, "you do not 
 wish to grieve me, I know, and you do grieve me 
 very much by these tears. I too shall be very, 
 very sorry to leave you ; but is not any sorrow 
 made lighter by bearing it patiently ? and every- 
 thing, even these little occurrences, Jeannie, are 
 ordered by One who knows what is best for us. 
 So dry your eyes, and help me, like my own brave 
 resolute little Jeannie." 
 
 My words were not without effect ; she brushed 
 away her tears, set to work on my packing up ; and, 
 by a strong effort, mastered her emotion, even when 
 she bade me farewell. 
 
 Angelica and Mrs. Dunstan stood in the hall, 
 
 Angelica was quite cordial ; she congratulated 
 me on my convalescence, shook hands warmly, 
 and held my reticule and books for five minutes, 
 whilst I was submitting to Mrs. Dunstan's very 
 
THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 pompous embraces — but the good lady meant 
 kindly and I ought not to satirize her. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour I was set down at the 
 portico of Mr. Stirling's house. He was standing 
 at the door waiting for me, and pressed a kind 
 kiss of welcome on my brow. 
 
 " I knew you would come, my child," he said, 
 with a touch of sadness in his voice, " and would 
 to Heaven that I could have welcomed you to 
 your new home under happier circumstances." 
 
 He opened the library door, and drew me in. 
 Then, motioning me to sit down, he placed him- 
 self opposite, and for the first time I noticed that 
 his face was pale and careworn. 
 
 " I have another daughter now," he said, letting 
 his hand rest on my shoulder. 
 
 I looked up wonderingly. 
 
 " Yes," he continued, smiling faintly, " I have 
 two daughters now — but one is weak, and help- 
 less, and dependent, and the other is neither of 
 these three things, and I look to her for help, 
 and consolation, and support. Am I to be dis- 
 appointed ? " 
 
BY THE SEA. 55 
 
 " I will do my best," I answered, with heart- 
 felt gratitude, 
 
 " I know it ; and I know that my expectations 
 will be amply fulfilled ; but now you will wonder 
 why I have sent for you. Chatty, my poor wife 
 is dying." 
 
 I started, and turned pale. 
 
 " Yes," he added, in the same quiet measured 
 tones, " at least Dr. Lambert gives me but a 
 faint shadow of hope ; and, strange to say, 
 there seems no real disease — only a gradual 
 wasting and wearing away of strength, and an 
 unaccountable depression of spirits. It has seemed 
 coming on a long time, even before the birth of 
 this poor little girl. You wonder why I say so, 
 but will she not be motherless — has she not come 
 into a life of many sorrows ? But to return ; the 
 physicians met yesterday, and they unanimously 
 agreed that nothing would be more beneficial 
 than the cheerful society of one of her own sex. 
 Besides," a slight flush passed over his features, 
 and he continued, " besides, no one is with her 
 but strangers and selfish hirelings — you will be 
 
56 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 a sister to her, Chatty, and watch over her, will 
 you not ? " 
 
 u I will, indeed I will," I answered, fervently. 
 
 (( Heaven bless you, my child, both for th 
 words and the truthfulness with which they were 
 uttered. Ah, Chatty, what should I do without 
 you?" 
 
BI THE SEA. 57 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 The poor pale face that flushed up as I entered 
 was still very lovely. It was a face that bespoke 
 uncommon gentleness and patience of character, 
 and there was no visible trace of low birth either 
 in the delicate features, or in the slender and 
 drooping figure which reminded you of a broken 
 flower. She was lying on a couch ; her head 
 drooping wearily on the pillow in a desponding, 
 listless attitude that grieved my heart to witness. 
 Little Ned, who was a great help to the em- 
 barrassment of our first meeting, soon decoyed 
 me into a game of ninepins on the hearth-rug, 
 but I could not help turning from the happy 
 child to the young mother. Lovely as she was 
 now, she must have been lovelier still in the 
 days of early girlhood. My imagination went 
 
58 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 back to the time when the sunken cheek was 
 rosy and rounded with health and hope, and the 
 soft dark eyes sparkled with young happiness. 
 I conjectured the deep brown hair gathered in 
 thick braids over the clear forehead, and smiles 
 dancing round the corners of the bright lips. 
 Ah, well might she have been a mother's joy, 
 and a father's pride ! Then I thought of the 
 heavy sorrows which had taken the bloom from 
 the early rose-bud, and which had bowed the 
 spirits of the poor parents in the dust of humi- 
 liation. It was a problem. She had been deeply 
 wronged, and she had deeply erred; but for her 
 wrong she had received a noble atonement, and 
 for her error she had fulfilled years of penitence, 
 suffering, and patient endurance. The world 
 might sneer at the one and scoff at the other, 
 but before the Great White Throne in Heaven, 
 and before all the wise and good on earth, they 
 shall both be acquitted. 
 
 " Hush, darling, mamma is ill, and Ned mustn't 
 make a noise, because it hurts mamma." 
 
 The child opened his large blue eyes as I spoke, 
 
BY THE SEA. 59 
 
 and rising tottered in little hushed steps to the 
 poor invalid's side, then he stood on tip-toe, and 
 kissed her cheek. It was a tacit appeal to for- 
 giveness, and the tears rose to my eyes. 
 
 " Me be so quiet, Tatty," he whispered, putting 
 his arms. around my neck ; « me be so quiet, poor 
 mamma ! " 
 
 By and by, a stout, consequential nurse 
 appeared, bearing a jelly on a silver tray. The 
 tray was of the richest and heaviest pattern ; 
 the jelly looked colourless and insipid. 
 
 'Mrs. Burroughs," said the invalid, speaking 
 in nervous timid tones, " I wish you would be 
 so kind as to put more wine in the jelly next 
 time. I cannot eat this, it is so tasteless." 
 
 " Oh, as you like, of course, ma'am," was the 
 officious unpleasant answer, "I been't a going 
 to dictate to you, but your hand is as hot as 
 fire, ma'am, and wine is a sure thing to bring on 
 fever. I did take such pains a making this here 
 jelly that I thought it would suit." 
 
 The spoon was raised to the lips once again, 
 but as quickly laid down. 
 
60 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 ee I dare say it 's my taste ; I 'm sadly dainty, I 
 know. Never mind, Mrs. Burroughs. Don't 
 make any more." 
 
 " I beg your pardon/' I said, quickly, for the 
 woman's cool rudeness had quite conquered my 
 averseness to interference; "I beg your pardon, 
 but I really think in Mrs. Stirling's weak state 
 the more strengthening things she takes the 
 better, and a little wine could do no possible 
 harm. Let me make you one ? I am a very good 
 hand, and know what an invalid's taste is." 
 
 " Don't leave me," she answered, in a pleading 
 voice, laying her hand on my arm. 
 
 " Oh no, there is no occasion. I will make it 
 here." 
 
 " It isn't exactly the place, miss," sulkily urged 
 the domestic, thinking, I suppose, of the numerous 
 steps. 
 
 " Never mind ; bring up the things directly 
 please." 
 
 Mrs. Burroughs was conquered ; she felt that 
 my will was as strong as her own and therefore 
 submitted, though with a great air of offended 
 
BY THE SEA. 61 
 
 dignity, to which, however, I paid no regard ; 
 consequently she treated me with the greatest 
 respect ever after. But this was not the only 
 instance of the way in which Mrs. Stirling's 
 servants tyrannized over her, that I observed 
 that day. Towards noontime a smart girl, with 
 her cap flying off her head, and a face as scarlet as 
 indignation and warm temper could make it, burst 
 into the room. 
 
 " If you please, ma'am, if this is the way in which 
 Hannah is to put upon me just as she likes, I 
 won't stand it. It was only yesterday she 
 declared I had a right to help in the library as 
 much as she, and to-day she says that the ante- 
 room is all my work, and please, ma'am, if she is to 
 order and do just as she likes I won't stand it no 
 longer." 
 
 " Make it up between you as you can," began 
 poor Mrs. Stirling faintly. 
 
 The girl was preparing for a fresh burst, but I 
 drew her gently out of the room : 
 
 (i You must not come up to your mistress with 
 complaints now," I said, gravely. " Do you 
 
62 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 not see how ill she is? If you want anything 
 come to me." 
 
 The girl looked puzzled, and bit her nails : 
 
 " Hannah is so " 
 
 She stammered and held down her head. I 
 could see that her temper was cooling. 
 
 " Let it be settled in this way. You do the ante- 
 room one day and Hannah another ; that will do." 
 "Yes, miss, I don't mind what I do, only I 
 won't be hard done by, by Hannah." 
 
 " You need not ; but if any differences arise 
 come to me." 
 
 When I returned, the poor invalid's eyes rested 
 on me with a grateful look of relief. 
 
 " I am so much obliged to you. Somehow I 
 never have been able to manage the servants 
 comfortably ; yet I have let them have their own 
 way a good deal." 
 
 " Perhaps that was the reason why they have 
 given you so much trouble." 
 
 " I don't know ; but you cannot imagine what a 
 trial it has been. Sometimes they have gone to my 
 husband, and nothing grieves me so much as that. 
 
BY THE SEA. 63 
 
 I know how much he dislikes being worried about 
 such things; and he is so good, too." 
 
 A large tear stole down her cheek. 
 
 " And ever since I married him I tried so hard 
 to have everything smooth and pleasant, but I 
 have not succeeded very well. There was always 
 some contention being raised in the kitchen, and 
 when I could not pacify them, they went straight 
 to him. You see, I was almost afraid of them, and 
 they took advantage of it from the first. If anything 
 went wrong it was always contrived to have been in 
 consequence of my orders, and a good many things 
 have gone wrong. My husband has some little 
 fancies about his meals being at particular times, 
 and other things, which are trifles in themselves, but 
 which I know are necessary to him ; and though 
 I have wished it so much, I have never been able 
 to get the servants accustomed to his ways. Yet 
 he has never complained." 
 
 More she said to the same effect, and I listened 
 and sympathized and consoled her, till the grate- 
 ful tears ran down her cheeks. All the constraint 
 was worn off now ; we called each other by our 
 
64 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Christian names, and she confided in me as if 
 I were a sister. By little and little, I learned 
 how deeply the poor wife had suffered from con- 
 scions inferiority to a gifted and imperial nature, 
 and how great must have been the husband's 
 solitude ! 
 
 " I have tried hard to be a companion to him, " 
 said Ellen, humbly and sorrowfully, "but how 
 could I ? I have loved him very, very dearly, 
 and all my thought and care has been to do a 
 wife's duty; but oh, I was so unfit to be his 
 wife ! I thought when I first married him that 
 my love would make up for all ; and he has always 
 said that it did, but all along I have felt (how 
 could I help it ?) what a difference there was 
 between us, and how lonely he has been." 
 
 So passed my first day at Mr. Stirling's; and 
 in the evening my jelly was tasted and liked, 
 and duly praised, which occasioned Mrs. Bur- 
 roughs to bounce out of the room, declaring she 
 never knew a lady as understood such a vulgar 
 thing as cookery afore and Ellen to turn timidly 
 from me to her husband and say : 
 
BY THE SEA. 65 
 
 " Chatty has almost made me feel well again, 
 and has taken such a load off my shoulders, for 
 she says she will take the keys and order Mrs. 
 Burroughs, and scold the servants and all." 
 
 Mr. Stirling smiled, and passed his hand caress- 
 ingly over my head. 
 
 " Good little housekeeper," he said, " well done ! 
 Ah Chatty, I see that you have learned the chief 
 and noblest aim of life ! " 
 
 I looked up with a puzzled face. 
 
 " I dare say you can hardly reconcile the two 
 ideas, — making jellies for a poor invalid to relish, 
 and ordering the comfort of a household, with a 
 noble and chief aim of life, but it is so. My child, 
 study it and search into it as they will, from the 
 host of philosophers and scholars, a few monarchs 
 of thought will now and then arise to declare the 
 truth, and the truth is enough for us. The whole 
 scheme of all religions and philosophies, and wise 
 men's theories, — the whole moral of all science 
 and physics, and sociology may be summed up in 
 three words, which were spoken by One eighteen 
 hundred years ago, — Ci Love one another." 
 
 VOL. II. F 
 
66 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 His whole face was lighted up with the excel- 
 lence of virtue and with the enthusiasm of wisdom 
 as he spoke ; and Ellen lifted her hands, as if an 
 angel were praying in the room. I was silent, 
 from humility, for the words that arose to my lips 
 were not worthy the thoughts which were in my 
 mind. 
 
BY THE SEA. 67 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 So then, my dream at last was over ! Alas ! 
 woman's pride had a strong battle to fight with 
 love ; but it was conqueror at last, and the eagle 
 fluttered its wings victoriously over the poor vexed 
 heart 
 
 I did not know before how strong my love had 
 been; I could not know all the beauty and bright- 
 ness of my star till it had fallen from the sky for 
 ever. Then I felt the darkness, and it hung 
 heavily around my heart. 
 
 Ah! he knew but little of the suffering he 
 caused me ; I trusted in charity towards him that 
 he knew it not; I tried hard to forgive him, I 
 tried hard to think gentler of the wrong he had 
 caused me, but I could not help contrasting what in 
 his selfishness had been amusement only, to what in 
 my heart had been so pure and exalted a passion. 
 
 P 2 
 
68 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Nothing, however, could have served so effectu- 
 ally to drive away all morbid and painful remem- 
 brances, as the new phase of life on which I now 
 entered. I had no leisure for sadness, hardly 
 leisure for thinking even; and it was well for me 
 that it was so. Ellen never liked me to be out of 
 her sight, and I seldom left her for an hour. She 
 seemed to regard my presence, not only as being 
 protective, but as tranquillising and necessary; 
 she felt calmer, better, happier when I was by, and 
 she was so young, so lovely, and so fragile, that 
 my interest and tenderness increased daily. I 
 read to her from the few books that she loved and 
 understood — from Burns' sweet and melancholy 
 poems, from Jeremy Taylor's Life of Christ, the 
 Pilgrim's Progress, or some of the simple and 
 beautiful allegories of the Christian Religion. At 
 such times she would listen with intense interest, 
 and ask explanations with the ingenuousness of 
 a child. There was not the least attempt to 
 conceal ignorance, and none of that narrowness 
 and contraction of ideas which is usually seen 
 in uncultivated minds. 
 
BY THE SEA. 69 
 
 But nothing pleased her so much as to converse 
 with me about the old days in the White House 
 by the Sea. She was never tired of hearing the 
 story over and over again, nor was I unwilling to 
 recount it. It is always a pleasure to talk to an 
 eager listener, and besides, there was an inexpres- 
 sible though mournful charm in recalling "those 
 other times." Sometimes I read passages from 
 those books which had given a particular bent to 
 my mind, or had awakened a deep echo in my 
 heart. These served to illustrate my story, and she 
 always comprehended them; and indeed strong 
 individualities can be made plain even to the 
 understanding of a child. She was dying. Every 
 day the cheeks and temples grew more hollow; 
 every day the weak frame grew weaker still. It 
 was a sort of consumption; there was no actual 
 pam, but the disease made slow and steady progress, 
 and the progress was visible to all eyes. 
 
 And the shadow was visible to herself. She did 
 not say so — she did not talk of death; but as days 
 wore on, her eyes would fill with wistful tears as 
 they dwelt on her husband's form, and every 
 
70 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 nighty when her little ones were brought for her 
 good-night kiss, she would cling to them with a 
 passionate embrace, as if she felt it might be her 
 last. Ah, poor, poor Ellen! who but a mother 
 can know the depth of thy love, and of thy 
 sorrow? 
 
 " Chatty," she said to me, one evening, " do you 
 remember the poem you read to me the other day? 
 you said it had given you such comfort when 
 you were left alone in the White House. Repeat 
 a verse or two." 
 
 " Since death is but a bridge 'twixt earth and heaven, 
 
 A link between two worlds, and both are fair ; 
 But heaven is fairest, for we gather there 
 
 A harvest of repose after much sin forgiven. 
 
 " And on that bridge stand angels waiting for me 
 With looks of love and smiles of welcome sweet, 
 To guide my trembling feet 
 
 Into the presence of my Master's glory." 
 
 i( Ah, they were the lines I most liked! how 
 kind of you to remember them ! Dear, dear Chatty, 
 what can I ever do to repay your love and kind- 
 ness! You always seem to know my wishes before 
 I speak them, and even what you read to me 
 
BY THE SEA. 71 
 
 always seems to suit my feelings. When you first 
 read that little poem to me the other day I was think- 
 ing how dreadful it must be to die and leave behind 
 all one's dearest friends, but before you left off read- 
 ing the darkness passed away. Some of the lines 
 appear written on purpose for me, they speak to my 
 heart; do you understand me, Chatty; I cannot 
 exactly say what I mean?" 
 
 " Oh yes ; and poetry that speaks to the heart 
 always pleases me, however simple it may be." 
 
 " And you found out, somehow, my taste 
 too. Kiss me, dear. Ah, come closer, for it is 
 growing dark, and I cannot see you there. Come 
 closer, Chatty, and let me hold your hand in mine, 
 for I cannot tell you how I love you!" 
 
72 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 " And this system, Miss Charlton Warae, this 
 system of maintaining too great distinctions has 
 the worst effects. Upon my word, the world is 
 getting very bad — very bad indeed ! " 
 
 "Is it worse than it ever was, sir?" I observed, 
 with a smile. 
 
 "Nonsense; you keep running from the point, 
 and pretending not to understand me, but you do 
 understand me, and I mean that you shall under- 
 stand me. This distinction ought to be put down. 
 Vice ought to be punished as well as Crime? and 
 having said this, Dr. Lambert folded his arms, and 
 looked into my face for a reply. 
 
 " It would be a dL%'ult thine to do." 
 
 " Ah, you 've hit it. I fancy it would be 
 difficult, and it will never be done in this world." 
 
BY THE SEA. 73 
 
 " But," I continued timidly, " do you not think 
 even in this life, to a great measure, that which we 
 sow we reap — I mean, that all actions, whether 
 morally or legally evil, bring their consequences 
 upon the one who has caused them ? I cannot 
 help thinking so." 
 
 The doctor mused. 
 
 " To a great measure — you do well to qualify 
 your sentence. To a measure — yes. But con- 
 sider: the evil that is done is by no means single; 
 one bad action is a seed dropped in a fruitful 
 soil (for all soils are fruitful for weeds, you 
 know); it brings forth a plentiful crop, and the 
 seed of that second planting is carried hither 
 and thither by the birds and winds, and so the 
 fruits of that one seed increase and spread wide 
 to an incalculable degree. It is a fearful thought, 
 but am I not right, nevertheless?" 
 
 " I must certainly admit it." 
 
 " Well ; and do you think that an entire com- 
 pensation is rendered in this life? The figures 
 stand as one to a thousand; is the man who is 
 guilty of one sin punished for a number indefinite? 
 
74 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 All, Chatty ! if before committing an act against 
 our conscience and the Law that God has written 
 in our hearts, if we would but consider the awful 
 responsibility we incur, it would be better for us 
 and for all the rest of our fellow creatures, but 
 I must not stand here gossiping any longer ; so, 
 my little friend, good-bye. Stay, how pale you 
 look ! come now, I have a little errand of mercy 
 for you, will you do it ? " 
 
 " With pleasure but " 
 
 " You think you ought not to leave our poor 
 invalid. I promise you you shall not be gone 
 more than an hour, and you really require a 
 breath of air. You're a dear, good, little girl, 
 and must be taken care of. So put on your bonnet 
 and off, off and away ! " 
 
 He then put a piece of money in my hand and 
 added : 
 
 " Take this to the first cottage in that little old 
 row which leads off from the Quay. You will 
 find there a fitting object for charity and reflec- 
 tion. Adieu. You will be orthodox in my 
 opinion on your return." 
 
BY THE SEA. 75 
 
 As I walked along, the Doctor's words rang in 
 my ears. Was it really so? I shuddered as I 
 thought of the terrible consequences of human 
 actions; it seemed to me at that moment, as if I 
 would rather die, than live to feel the agony of 
 remorse — as if I, having once contemplated the 
 direfulness of error, would be firm, and true, and 
 just for evermore. Then a voice said within me: 
 " Trust not thyself ; have forgiveness for others : 
 thou knowest not yet how they have suffered, nor 
 how thou mayest be led into temptation." I felt 
 rebuked and humbled. So, oh God, may I ever 
 be rebuked, when I build upon my own strength 
 and not upon Thee ! 
 
 Upon reaching my destination I found that my 
 charitable mission had been anticipated. The door 
 of the cottage stood open, and a young woman, 
 apparently about twenty, was curtseying to four tall 
 and cadaverous-looking, middle-aged ladies who 
 were gathered round her. At a first glance I 
 recognised them as the Misses Keen, the district 
 visitors, the terror of all small children, the fear- 
 less guardians of the Ingham morality, and the prop 
 
76 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 of the Ingham Church. They were all much alike, 
 wiry in stature, and withered in face, with long 
 worked bags, out of which poked rolls of terrible 
 tracts ; what else the bags contained I know not, 
 but I never heard of any contents but the tracts. 
 Now the Misses Keen were not very welcome 
 visitors at the cottages of the poor, nor do I wonder 
 at it. They looked upon all the lower classes as 
 beings of an inferior kind, totally devoid of all 
 feeling and sensibility, and they were immoderately 
 curious. They recommended all sorts of barbarous 
 proceedings with refractory little boys or girls ; 
 they preached long sermons on the foolishness of 
 grown-up daughters, pink bonnets, and lovers; 
 they cut off the pet child's curls in the Sunday 
 school; they popped into the kitchen when the 
 family were at dinner, to see how well they lived; 
 and they peered into the cupboard to discover 
 the feast which they were going to have on 
 Sunday. But to return. Having each of them 
 given me a sharp glance, they proceeded with 
 their admonitory prologue, the girl listening with 
 blushing downcast face. 
 
BY THE SEA. 77 
 
 It was very characteristic. Little energetic, 
 hard hits of morality flew alternately from their 
 lips, in sharp snappish sentences, which, to use an 
 old Suffolk expression, seemed as though they 
 would bite your head off. In the midst of one 
 of these, . which came to its end explosively, the 
 speaker darted a few steps forward, and pointing 
 a screwy umbrella to a cradle which she had 
 not perceived before, exclaimed in a panic- 
 stricken voice — 
 
 " Whose baby is that?" 
 
 The poor girl seemed ready to faint; her 
 lips quivered as she articulated almost inaudibly, 
 
 " Mine." 
 
 "Yours?" The Keen phalanx drew back 
 in alarm. 
 
 " I have been unfortunate ! " murmured the 
 unhappy mother, but she could say no more, 
 and burst into a flood of tears. 
 
 I should be sorry to repeat what these 
 Englishwomen said to their fallen and wretched 
 sister. It did not last long, however — such a 
 torrent of high words in the highest key could not 
 
78 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 last long ; and in a few seconds, gathering up their 
 dresses, as if the very hem of their robes would be 
 tainted by touching the floor she trod, they swept 
 out of the house. 
 
 I soon learned the outline of the girl's history. 
 It was an old story ; youthful innocence, poverty, 
 the poison of a factory-room, bad company, 
 temptation, betrayal. The factory had been 
 opposite to a barrack, and her beauty (she was 
 still pretty) had attracted the fancy of an officer, 
 who used to watch for her when, late at night, 
 she returned to her humble lodgings. 
 
 " And oh," she said to me, between the bursts 
 of tears — " Oh, may God pardon him as I do ! At 
 first, I wished I were dead, it seemed so hard 
 to live and be looked down upon, and despised 
 by every one ; but then I thought of my poor 
 little baby— who would take care of it, and love 
 it, if I were gone ? and it cannot help its shame. 
 Besides, God will not despise me, and will hear 
 my prayers for you, and the kind doctor who sent 
 you to me. If it had not been for him, I should 
 have had no heart to pray." 
 
BY THE SEA. 79 
 
 Thinking of many things, I returned homewards. 
 As I raised my eyes to see what o'clock it was 
 by a neighbouring church, I caught sight of a 
 carriage driven furiously forward, from which 
 peeped two plumed bonnets, and a fierce mous- 
 tache. It was Mrs. Dunstan, Angelica, and 
 the Count. They had passed me in a minute, 
 for Angelica never tolerated slow driving, but 
 the glimpse sufficed to turn the scale of my 
 thoughts. I could think of nothing, but the 
 scene from the balustrade, the starlight night, 
 the dusky figures, and the voice which had 
 said— « Love her ? oh no ! But is there not a 
 triumph in winning love, even where you have 
 none to give in return ? " 
 
 Then I realized the full weight of my dis- 
 appointment, and anguish. I shuddered as I 
 recalled the sickened, aching scene of loneliness 
 which filled my heart, when his step had died 
 away, and that night of wakefulness and woe. 
 Alas, I did not know till then how I had loved 
 him ! 
 
80 TEE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Just at that moment, a hand was laid on my 
 arm. I looked up and beheld him standing 
 before me, with the wonted glow of health and 
 vigour on his cheek, and the serene light shining 
 in his ey es. 
 
 " Why, Chatty, how intently you are thinking ! 
 You walk with your eyes looking on the ground, 
 like one of the heathen philosophers. Take my 
 arm. You must let me accompany you a little 
 way." 
 
 For a little time we were silent. I could 
 not talk common-places to him, or assume a gaiety 
 I did not feel. 
 
 At length he looked down upon my face, 
 and said, in a low voice — 
 
 " Oh, Chatty, why did you go away ? For me 
 all the sunshine and joy of the house is gone, now." 
 
 Formerly the sweetness of his voice would 
 have thrilled me with a deep joy ; I trembled 
 still, but with a different feeling. Releasing my 
 hold from his arm, I said, in a calm controlled 
 voice — 
 
BY THE SEA. 81 
 
 « Why do you seek to deceive me thus ? Have 
 I wronged you, or offended you, that you treat 
 me as if I were a child — or a fool ? " 
 
 I saw a slight paleness come over his face 
 as he tried to take my hand, and would have 
 spoken. But I held aloof, and motioned him to 
 be silent. 
 
 " Lindsay Jocelyn, listen to me. I will be 
 heard, and then I will listen also." 
 
 I overcame by a vigorous effort the tremor of 
 my voice, and continued earnestly : 
 
 " Perhaps my conduct may be unmaidenly and 
 bold — I cannot help it. By my own conscience 
 I am fully acquitted. Lindsay, you do not love 
 me ; why do you seek to make me believe that 
 my presence is necessary to your happiness ? 
 why have you said so much that might have 
 led me to believe that you loved me ? From 
 our first meeting under Mrs. Dunstan's roof, 
 answer me — have you not sought my society 
 from that of all others ? — have you not said that, 
 and inferred that it was that which brought you 
 so often to Helmsley-End ? — have you not, in 
 
 vol ii. a 
 
82 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 various instances, given me good reason to think 
 that it might be so — answer me?" 
 
 " But hear me, Chatty " 
 
 " First answer me this one question. Have 
 you not tried to win my affections? Whatever 
 your opinion of me may be, at least respect me 
 enough to be truthful with me. You have tried 
 to win my love from mere vanity, is it not 
 so?" 
 
 He turned his face away and made no answer. 
 
 " You do not seek to deny it. I knew that 
 you could not do so. But all the time that 
 you were doing this — all the time that you were 
 gratifying this vain love of testing your power, 
 I ask you, did it never occur to you that you 
 were doing a heartless and cowardly thing ? — did 
 it never occur to you that what was a sport to 
 you might be a sorrow of many years to me ? 
 I am young ; I was younger still when I first saw 
 you. I have never been beyond Ingham — I do 
 not know what the world is — I believed you to 
 be brave, and good, and honourable — how could 
 I think otherwise?" 
 
BY THE SEA. 83 
 
 Tears rose to my eyes as the recollection of 
 our first meeting came to my mind, but I dashed 
 them proudly away, and continued, not heeding 
 the hand that was laid on my arm reproachfully : 
 
 fe Why, then, should I doubt your words and 
 the evidence of your daily conduct towards me 
 when belief might be so welcome ? Oh, Lindsay, 
 it was unworthy of you : you have been unjust 
 to yourself, most unjust to me." 
 
 He covered his face with his hands, and I saw 
 that he was very pale. 
 
 " Supposing I had yielded to the impressions 
 you studied to make upon me — supposing (and 
 was it not probable ? ) that I had loved you with 
 the whole depth of which I am capable, when 
 once I had made the discovery of the cruel 
 deceitfulness you had played upon me, I should 
 have been most unhappy ; unhappy for months — 
 for years ; for who knows how long ? Woman's 
 life is different to man's; she is removed from 
 the turmoil and ambition of public life, and con- 
 sequently her sorrows and joys dropping into 
 a smoother current make a wider circle. But 
 
84 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 one thing more — Lindsay grant me one favour. 
 Promise me that you will never act towards 
 another as you have done to me." 
 
 I looked up to him for an answer, but none 
 came. 
 
 "Forgive me/' I said softly. " If I have said 
 too much, I am sorry for it. Lindsay, forgive me." 
 " No, you have said nothing but what I have 
 deserved," at length he answered. " Oh, Chatty, 
 I never knew before what a wretch I am ! But 
 your request is granted — I will do my best to 
 fulfil it." 
 
 I held out my hand. 
 "You forgive me, then, Chatty?" 
 " Fully and freely. Let us be friends. Say 
 that I am forgiven also." 
 
 " I have nothing to forgive. You have been 
 kind to me — very kind." 
 
 He spoke sternly and bitterly. 
 
 " You have told me candidly and plainly what 
 
 I really am. I never thought I should see myself 
 
 in such a light, much less through the eyes of 
 
 another. But you have spoken truly, and I thank 
 
BY THE SEA. 85 
 
 you. You cannot think more meanly of me than 
 I do of myself at this moment ; and I believe that 
 you have done me a service which no one else in 
 the world would do." 
 
 He turned as if to go, with curled. lips and 
 contracted brow ; then, as if influenced by some 
 new and sudden thought, he drew near to me 
 again ; and said, in a softened voice — 
 
 " But let us be friends. I have need of a friend 
 like you, Chatty. I will endeavour to keep my 
 promise— I will indeed; and if in the future you 
 see me led away from promptings of my better 
 nature, think that at least it was not without an 
 effort that I surrendered; the rest is in the hands 
 of Fate. We cannot alter our destiny." 
 
 " It is in our own hands," I answered, gravely. 
 f Yes ; so does the sailor know his way across 
 the sea, but the night is dark, and his boat is 
 tossed like a feather on the waves." 
 
 He wrung my hand in his own; and, without 
 a word more, left me. 
 
 Half an hour after that, as I stood holding a 
 long dialogue with my old friend, Mr. Bean, in 
 
86 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 the shaded neighbourhood of a narrow row, the 
 same carriage dashed past us, glittering in the 
 broad sunlight of the street ; but, in spite of the 
 speed and the glare, I caught sight of another 
 face bending over Angelica's. It was Lindsay ; 
 and he was smiling, and speaking with his accus- 
 tomed look — apparently happy, natural, animated: 
 I returned home with a very heavy heart. 
 
BY THE SEA. 87 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 The darkness of night was gathering around 
 the little town by the coast, and the darkness 
 of death was gathering on the mortal vision of 
 Ellen Stirling. 
 
 Fainter and fainter came the heavily drawn 
 breath; faster and faster faded the outward 
 sense of all things from the glassy eyes. 
 
 " Come nearer — nearer — I cannot see you." 
 We all surrounded her. She smiled faintly, 
 and said with a great effort, " Kiss me ! " 
 
 Then we each bent down and kissed her cheek. 
 All were weeping ; she alone was calm. 
 
 " Good-bye — good-bye — dear, dear Edward ! " 
 
 Her head sank on my shoulder. The stillness 
 
 of the room was very solemn ; for some minutes 
 
 it lasted unbroken, then I touched the sunken 
 
88 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 cheek, and cried aloud. It was all over. One 
 spirit more had passed away from a world of 
 mingled happiness and woe, — 
 
 " Through shades and silent rest to endless joy." 
 
 It was a mournful week that followed ; but 
 it was happy for me that my thoughts and hands 
 were not unoccupied for a moment; otherwise I 
 should never have been able to maintain that 
 outward tranquillity and composure which is so 
 difficult to assume when the heart is full of sorrow, 
 and which is so eminently the duty of those who 
 are around the bereaved. 
 
 All day long Mr. Stirling kept in his study : 
 once or twice he sent for me to write letters 
 for him, and gave me the directions in a collected 
 voice, but his face looked pale and overworn ; 
 I could see how much the effort cost him. He 
 spoke kindly to me, and bade me take care of 
 myself, but that was all ; I felt that he wished 
 to be alone, and went to my own room to write 
 
BY THE SEA. 89 
 
 the letters. In the evening I knocked gently at 
 the door ao*ain. 
 
 He opened it, and motioned me to come in. 
 
 i( It is dinner-time, sir ; you must come and have 
 some dinner with me. I cannot eat alone." 
 
 "Poor Chatty! you have been alone all day 
 too ! " 
 
 He stroked my hair, and smiled kindly on 
 me. 
 
 "No, I will not be so selfish. And, Chatty, 
 I forgot to ask you before — the children and ser- 
 vants have " 
 
 " I did not forget ; it is all arranged." 
 
 " And you will go with me — you understand 
 me — she wished it." 
 
 I assented, and he seemed pleased to think that 
 I had made the arrangements for the funeral 
 without troubling him. The dinner passed off 
 heavily, and so did the four days following. He 
 joined me in the evening, and took his place at 
 the table, but we were both silent and constrained. 
 I fetched little Ned from the nursery, and took 
 him on my knee. 
 
90 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " Ned has been a good child to-day hasn't he ? " 
 
 " Yes — yes," he lisped, clasping his little arms 
 around my neck. 
 
 " Kiss papa. Go to papa, and tell him how 
 good Ned has been." 
 
 The child slipped from my knees, and raised 
 his head to receive the cheek that was held down 
 to him, then he suddenly ran back, and hid his 
 face in my lap. 
 
 ({ Mamma — mamma? " he whispered. 
 
 Mr. Stirling passed his hand over his eyes, and 
 left the room. 
 
 At last the mournful day came. I had a 
 difficult matter in keeping a calm exterior ; I was 
 reminded so forcibly of the last time that I had 
 paid the same duty to my poor father, and Mr. 
 Stir lino- had come to comfort me. Ah, if I could 
 be to him what he had been to me ! It was 
 a lovely day in February ; the birds were singing, 
 the sky was clear, the air was mild and balmy ; 
 it seemed so sad to consign her, on such a 
 day — she who was young and fair — to the 
 silence of the tomb, and the slumbers — 
 
BY THE SEA. 91 
 
 " Deep — deep 
 Never to waken more." 
 
 When we returned Mr. Stirling shut himself up 
 in his study ; I could not speak to him, when I 
 had once glanced at his face; there was a look of 
 imier sorrow and controlled feeling on it, that 
 forbade sympathy ; I went straight to my own 
 room. How the long hours passed I know not. 
 I fell into a long train of reflection. I thought of 
 what had passed before my eyes, within the last 
 few days : Youth — Life — Death — the Grave. 
 I shut out all circumstances and accidents of 
 present existence. To pass away from the fair 
 earth and the friends of one's heart, and from 
 the hope and the disappointment, the endeavour 
 and victory of life — to be as one has been, no 
 more — to glide from the tangible living w^orld, 
 to a future of which the mysteries are hidden 
 from us : the thought seemed incomprehensible. 
 Then I thought of the words of those whose souls 
 have seemed to hold communion with the dead, 
 and who have so written that we can fear the 
 
92 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Messenger no longer, but obey its voice, trustingly 
 and serenely, like little children. 
 
 Towards evening I descended to the dining-room. 
 It was empty; and the dinner was brought on 
 and taken away untasted. I wished to go to Mr. 
 Stirling, but I dared not. It .grew dark; the 
 lamps were lighted, and I tried to read, but my 
 efforts were unavailing. At length I could bear 
 the suspense and irresolution no longer. I shut 
 my book and went straight to the library door; the 
 fire had gone out, and the room was cold and 
 cheerless; Mr. Stirling sat by the fireplace, his head 
 resting on his hand and his whole attitude implied 
 sadness and abstraction. He did not speak, or seem 
 to notice my entrance ; but, having made the first 
 step, I drew courage, and sitting down at his feet 
 put my hand in his. 
 
 Then he drew me to his breast, and said softly : 
 
 " My child — my comforter ! " 
 
BY THE SEA. 93 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 A week passed, and the usual order of things wa3 
 restored in Mr. Stirling's house. Mrs. Burroughs 
 was still retained as being indispensable to the poor 
 little motherless child; besides, she had really a 
 kind heart ; and, by dint of carrying the reins of 
 government with a very high hand, I found 
 that I could not only keep her in proper submission 
 to my authority, but the entire body of the other 
 servants also. There was simply one thing to 
 do, viz., to let them see that you were resolved to 
 have your own way, and your point was gained at 
 once. Meantime the course of life I marked out 
 for myself was a uniform but peaceful — and might 
 it not ultimately be an entirely happy one ? I could 
 look forward now to a period when the dream and 
 the waking alike might be remembered without 
 
94 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 regret, and when even I should think of him I had 
 loved without trembling. A phase of my life was 
 passing away; Mrs. Dunstan was going abroad — 
 was it likely that she would ever again return 
 to Ingham? It was most unlikely. Jeannie — 
 Angelica — Ross — who could tell when we should 
 meet again? The White House by the Sea was 
 desolate — Helmsley-End Hall would soon be 
 desolate also. To me they would both speak of a 
 former time, and a former hope. Both had 
 faded — utterly faded. 
 
 " Save some remembrances of dreamlike joys 
 That scarcely seem to have belonged to me." 
 
 The last link that bound me to that memory 
 would soon be snapt now, It was inevitable — 
 and then Lindsay and I should be as if we had 
 never met. 
 
 Jeannie would always love me. Thank 
 Heaven I should find no change in her, but 
 the link would be broken nevertheless. 
 
 So I set to work resolutely to look cheerfully 
 upon the future. I busied myself in a hundred 
 plans and prospects for the long summer days. 
 
BY THE SEA. 95 
 
 There would be some months yet, before little 
 Ned was old enough to begin his studies with me. 
 I procured a heap of German books, and bent 
 my whole mind to the mastery of Goethe's 
 magnificent language — then I was deficient in 
 a great many points of necessary knowledge, 
 besides being a total stranger to many interesting 
 branches of our national literature. Mr. Stirling 
 filled my little book-case with easy works of 
 astronomy and physics, and we had daily 
 readings in the English dramatists and essayists. 
 His taste was unique and characteristic. Affec- 
 tation and obscurity he abhorred ; a beautiful 
 thought expressed in simple words, never failed 
 to draw from him a warm enthusiasm. One day 
 he found me reading Carlyle's History of the 
 Revolution ; he took the book from my hands, 
 and locked it up, I have never seen it since. 
 At another time he caught me translating Fichte 
 on the Divine Idea ; it shared the same merciless 
 fate. I begged hard to finish them. 
 
 C( Pshaw ! " he exclaimed, impatiently, " child, 
 child, you will be as mad as the rest of them, 
 
96 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 ( Facilis est descensus Averni,' you know. You 
 have got a little sound common sense in your 
 head. For Heaven's sake keep it there. Go 
 and read Professor Johnstone or the Vicar of 
 Wakefield, and never let me hear a word more 
 about the Divine Idea ! " 
 
 " You will not deny that the books are very 
 clever and original, sir ? " I asked, wickedly. 
 
 " Go and read Dr. Goldsmith like a good 
 girl. Original? Why, yes; but an originality 
 that's far beyond my capacity to appreciate or 
 understand. No doubt it's all very fine, and 
 very clever, but for my part, Chatty, I must 
 own, such talent is lost upon me." 
 
 I had got to the door, when he called me 
 back. 
 
 " Chatty, I read the other day a line which 
 I intended to repeat to you, but forgot — ' There 
 are many more ready to say a wise thing than to 
 do a good one ;' isn't that true?" 
 u Very," I answered, smiling. 
 " Now," he continued, after that appeal to 
 your good feelings, I have no hesitation in making 
 
BY THE SEA. 97 
 
 this request to you — will you go now and then 
 to see that poor girl Dr. Lambert told you of, 
 and see that she wants for nothing ? " 
 
 " Oh, I shall be very glad ! I had almost 
 forgotten her ; I will go to-day." 
 
 " That 's right, you 're a good child, God bless 
 you!" 
 
 On returning from my errand, I was greatly 
 surprised to see Mrs. Dunstan's carriage at 
 the door, and as I passed the hall she was 
 coming out of his study ; her head erect, her 
 cheek flushed, and her whole demeanour bearing 
 evidence of a perturbed state of mind. Appa- 
 rently she did not perceive me, or did not wish 
 to do so, for she brushed haughtily past, and, 
 with only a slight inclination of the head to Mr. 
 Stirling, entered the carriage. What motive 
 could have induced her to call ? I could think of 
 no plausible one, but the circumstance excited 
 my curiosity greatly ; nevertheless a multitude of 
 trifling occurrences concurred to drive away both 
 the curiosity and the incident that had occasioned 
 it. Ned had got a new toy — a humming-top — 
 
 VOL. II. H 
 
98 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 and couldn't set it off. Tatty darling would 
 come and show Ned how, wouldn't she, just 
 for a little minute ? So of course Tatty darling 
 went, and the minute extended to half an hour. 
 Then this exciting amusement was interrupted by 
 the gardener. It was the time to move the stand- 
 ard roses from the nursery garden — would Miss 
 Chatty be so kind as to tell him where they were 
 to go ? Soon after Dr. Lambert called ; we fell 
 into a Ions: discussion, which took various 
 turnings and windings till it arrived at the 
 wonderful process of daguerreotyping, and was 
 immersed deep in collodion, when he jumped up, 
 and having ejaculated some hopeless expression 
 of despair about having forgotten an engagement, 
 made a frantic dash at his hat, and disappeared. 
 So when at dinner-time Mr. Stirling turned to 
 me with a smile, and asked me if I were not 
 surprised at the visit he had received in the 
 morning, I looked up with astonishment. 
 
 " Well, Chatty, and Mrs. Dunstan had some 
 news to tell me." 
 
 I suddenly recollected. 
 
BY THE SEA. 99 
 
 " Her approaching marriage, perhaps ? " 
 " Exactly so ; it is not news to you, then ; 
 and what do you think of the romantic lover ? " 
 " I do not like him at all." 
 ** I thought so. Poor Jeannie ! But Mrs. 
 Dunstan may storm as she pleases ; the child's 
 interests shall not be sacrificed." 
 
 " Jeannie's interests? I do not understand you." 
 " I was left executor by the late Mr. Dunstan, 
 and guardian to Jeannie — did you not know 
 it before? and the said Mr. Dunstan (who was 
 an old friend of mine) left a very just and discreet 
 will ; but Mrs. Dunstan does not think so. The 
 will is this : — The property, which is considerable, 
 is left in two shares, one to the wife and one 
 to the child, the interest of which, however, 
 the former was to enjoy so long as Jeannie 
 remained unmarried — with this clause, however, 
 that if Mrs. Dunstan should see fit to marry 
 again, I was to hold Jeannie's entire property — 
 interest, capital, and all — for her during her 
 minority, and have care of it after, whilst she 
 is single. Some one, perhaps the amiable 
 
 H I 
 
100 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 husband elect himself, who I have no doubt is 
 a very good spender of other people's money, 
 has been telling Mrs. Dunstan that that clause 
 in the will is not correct, and that if Jeannie 
 gave consent, she could receive her usual income ; 
 and I offended her very much by saying that 
 twenty lawyers could not prove the clause 
 contrary to my words, and that I shall hold 
 to it, to a letter. How the matter will end I 
 know not ; I suppose by Mrs. Dunstan marrying 
 the amorous Count : if so, Jeannie will live 
 here." 
 
 "Here — in this house?" I exclaimed, brightening. 
 
 " Yes. How pleased you look ; ah, she will 
 be like a sister to you ; I never thought of that." 
 
 If it could but be so ? Jeannie and I together 
 always — under the same roof. The very idea 
 gave a new lightness to my heart and an unwonted 
 buoyancy to my smile. But it was for a minute 
 only. Tears came into my eyes, and suddenly 
 came across my recollection the words that Mr. 
 Stirling had spoken to me on the evening of our 
 first meeting: "Take care; those only are safe 
 
BY THE SEA. 101 
 
 who have hazarded nothing." And I had 
 answered (thinking of him I loved), " I have 
 no fear." 
 
 * Why so sad, my child ? " asked Mr. Stirling, 
 kindly. " You looked happy a minute ago." 
 
 But I could only answer him with an assumed 
 gaiety, and wear a joyousness that was surface 
 deep ! 
 
102 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 It was a great and unexpected happiness, however, 
 this prospect of Jeannie and I sharing the same 
 home together, and I thanked God for it. I resolved 
 to go the next day to Helmsley-End. I could not 
 rest in uncertainty, and it was not one of Lindsay's 
 leisure days; I should not therefore have the pain- 
 fulness of a rencontre with him. It happened, 
 however, that the next day proved drizzling and 
 clouded ; my walk must be deferred. Perhaps 
 Jeannie would write to me. I watched for the 
 postman anxiously. At last he came ; but there 
 was only one letter, and it was for Mr. Stirling : 
 as he glanced over its contents, I saw an expression 
 of surprise pass over his face, not unmixed with 
 pleasure. 
 
BY THE SEA. 103 
 
 " I shall not ride this morning, Thompson," he 
 said to the servant; "I expect a visitor." 
 
 Then, looking to me, he added, smiling — 
 
 " An old acquaintance of yours, Chatty." 
 
 When the breakfast was over he went into his 
 study. By and by I heard a sharp ring at the 
 door, followed by a step upon the hall. I started 
 and turned pale, for I should have known that light 
 buoyant step among a thousand others. Half 
 an hour passed, then the study door was opened, 
 and I heard Mr. Stirling say — 
 
 u Stay, you must come and see my little adopted 
 daughter, Chatty Warne ; she tells me you have 
 known each other a long time; here is her 
 sanctum. She should hear this pleasant news 
 from your own lips." 
 
 iC Nothing would give me more pleasure, but I 
 have not really two minutes to spare this morning; 
 I return to town at midday." 
 
 " Very well ; you will soon be here again, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " Oh yes; I shall take the last train on Saturday 
 night, and will call on you — but I suppose — that 
 
104 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 is, I may consider the arrangement as definite, 
 may I not? " Lindsay's voice was strangely hurried 
 and excited. 
 
 " Certainly. I assure you nothing could have 
 given me greater satisfaction; and Chatty will be 
 •delighted, I know." 
 
 " Good-bye. I am so sorry I have no more 
 time. Tell Chatty — that is — Jeannie wished me 
 to say that she wants her to spend a day or two 
 with her; and give her — give her my — I mean 
 our kind regards. Good-bye, my dear sir, Au 
 
 re voir." 
 
 " Well, Chatty," said Mr. Stirling, entering a 
 few minutes after. " I have some more news to 
 tell you. Lindsay Jocelyn has just been here — 
 can you guess his errand?" 
 
 " I am a very bad guesser," I answered, striving 
 for composure. 
 
 " Then I suppose I must tell you. Well then, he 
 is going to be married ! " 
 
 Instantly Angelica flashed before my mind: 
 
 " Oh not to her — not to her ! " I exclaimed 
 hastily. 
 
BT THE SEA. 105 
 
 " You seem quite frightened. Why, you silly 
 child, what are you thinking of? The bride elect 
 is amiable, innocent, and lovely. Do you not 
 know such a one?" I shook my head with a look 
 of blank surprise, and Mr. Stirling continued, 
 " One, moreover, whom I believe you dearly 
 love." 
 
 " Jeannie?" 
 
 " Rio;ht. The bride he has chosen is Jeannie 
 Dunstan. Is it not good news? She will be very 
 happy ; what woman would not be happy with one 
 like Lindsay Jocelyn? So refined, so manly, so 
 generous, and handsome as he is! Dear little 
 Jeannie! I am very very glad." 
 
 It was fortunate for me that I had learned to 
 control my emotions. I therefore could say with 
 tolerable firmness — 
 
 " I hope he will make her happy." 
 
 " And the money difficulty is happily got over," 
 my companion continued, reflectively; "for he tells 
 me that Mrs. Dunstan is very willing to receive 
 him as a son-in-law, and that he has quite talked 
 over her scepticism regarding the will. He has 
 
106 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 a marvellous influence over people's minds, you 
 know; and it is settled that when Mrs. Dunstan 
 leaves Ingham, Jeannie is to have her own choice, 
 go abroad or remain here. By the by she wants 
 you to go there for a day or two, but I wish she 
 didn't. I don't know how to spare my Chatty for 
 a minute." 
 
 He laid his hand affectionately on my shoulder. 
 
 " I shall not go," I said quietly: " I would rather 
 not." 
 
 " But I had rather you should, my child : the 
 change will do you good, and you require it more 
 than ever. Even now you are quite pale, and 
 your hand trembles. Yes, Jeannie will be so glad 
 to have you. Do go, to please me." 
 
 Left alone, I found it difficult to realize the new 
 truth which had been forced on my mind. Lindsay 
 married — and to whom? Would he be happy? — 
 was he worthy of her ? Both these considerations 
 awoke a doubt. If he loved her, her happiness 
 was at once secured, but then was it so? Jeannie 
 was utterly unsuited to him; their characters were 
 widely different, and different in a way that could 
 
BY THE SEA. 107 
 
 not commingle harmoniously. She was childlike — 
 simple — yielding ; ever ready to be guided by 
 others, and ever ready to take the colour of her 
 own thoughts from those who were around her. 
 This temperament would require one stronger than 
 its own. Jeannie must have some one to follow 
 and reverence, and look up to in everything. I 
 could not but feel that Lindsay was not such a 
 one. I could see from my observance of his 
 character that he was the creature of impulse. 
 These impulses varied — they were alternately 
 generous, noble, vain, self-reliant, egotistical. In- 
 fluence went a great way with him; the influence 
 of one he loved would be great indeed. 
 
 Ah, what a fair picture I drew to myself of that 
 generous but faulty nature, guided and subdued, 
 and spurred on to energy and lofty purpose by a 
 loving and high-souled wife ! Jeannie was loving, 
 Jeannie was frank, artless, pure minded, but she 
 was meek, subdued, timid: she was not fit to be 
 his wife. 
 
 And did he love her as I felt that he could love? 
 Oh no, no, it could not be; yet why did he take 
 
108 THE WHITE HODSE 
 
 this step? Jeannie was an heiress — he was indolent 
 and without fortune. Might not pecuniary interests 
 have urged him? 
 
 No, I would not think so meanly of him; I had 
 no right to do so. I will act the part of a friend 
 always, and pray for the blessings of heaven to fall 
 upon him. I still held firm to my resolution of 
 not going to Mrs. Dunstan's; but my resolutions 
 and efforts to get off the dreaded visit were 
 unavailing, for on Saturday morning a carriage 
 drove up, and between Jeannie's affectionate note 
 to Mr. Stirling, and the reiterated commands and 
 entreaties of the latter, I was literally forced to 
 yield; but they little thought in their love and 
 kindness of the mental suffering which compliance 
 entailed upon me. 
 
BY THE SEA. 109 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 She was watching for me, with such a radiant face. 
 
 " Oh, Chatty," she exclaimed, drawing me in and 
 embracing me ; <( oh, Chatty, I am so happy ! " 
 
 "I know it," I said, kissing the fair young inno- 
 cent forehead ; a your looks tell me more than any 
 words. You would be a bad hand at keeping a 
 secret, Jeannie, with such a tell-tale countenance." 
 
 " And who could help being happy?" she con- 
 tinued: "who could help being happy, Chatty, when 
 he is so brave, and noble, and handsome ? Who 
 could help loving him? and oh, I hope that I may 
 be able to make him happy! I pray to Heaven 
 that I may: I know that I am unworthy of him; 
 but I love him more than I can tell, and I will try 
 very, very hard to do so." 
 
 Her eyes were bright with love, and hope, and 
 
110 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 tenderness, and my own filled, half from the sight 
 of her joy, half from my own sorrow; but I 
 brushed them away hastily, and she was too 
 engrossed to remark either the tears or the 
 gesture. 
 
 " And Angelica?" I asked. 
 
 "Oh, I think Angelica, having discovered that 
 Lindsay did not love her, cares little about it ; but 
 her conduct is so strange that I hardly know what 
 to think. She is wonderfully gracious to me — quite 
 affectionate, in fact; gives me hosts of presents, and 
 calls me all sorts of endearing epithets : now this 
 is all the more strange as she has never before 
 seemed to think me worth the trouble of caring 
 for. Yesterday I said to her : 
 
 " s How odd you are, Angelica ! Since my 
 engagement to Lindsay you have behaved quite 
 differently to me.' 
 
 " ' Differently, how ? ' she exclaimed, almost 
 angrily. 
 
 " ( You must know without my telling you,' 
 I answered. She made no reply, and I do not 
 think has been quite so cordial and caressing 
 
BY THE SEA. Ill 
 
 since ; but now, Chatty, is it not extraordinary 
 of her to act so? I can account for it in no 
 other way, except that she does not care much 
 whom he marries so long as she could not get 
 him herself." 
 
 " Possibly, and do not let us talk of her 
 again." 
 
 " Oh, no," Jeannie said, quickly, " anything 
 but of her. Chatty, how happy we shall be 
 together ! " 
 
 " You will live at Mr. Stirling's then?" 
 
 " Till — till we are married, yes," she replied, 
 with a blush ; " but let us dress now, and go 
 into the dining-room. It is so delightful to sit 
 there and watch for him." 
 
 In half an hour we descended ; the dinner- 
 table was already set, and Mrs. Dunstan, the 
 Count, and Angelica lounged before the fire 
 expectantly, with uncut newspapers in their 
 hands ; but it was still light, and Lindsay would 
 not be here yet. Jeannie and I drew to the 
 embrasured window, and watched for him; she 
 bright, hopeful, flushed with eager joy — I, pale, 
 
112 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 subdued, and sorrowful. At length it grew 
 dusk — 
 
 " And the little "wee bit starn 
 Rises high in the east ; 
 
 And the little wee bit heart 
 Rises high in the breast." 
 
 " He will be here in a few minutes," she 
 whispered to me ; and, before she had done 
 speaking, the distant sound of wheels was heard. 
 Jeannie fluttered, breathless and sparkling, to the 
 hall-door ; a little space elapsed, and then she 
 entered leaning on his arm : he, handsome, kingly, 
 erect ; she, so downcast, so shy, so happy. 
 
 When the dinner was over he requested her 
 to play for him, and she sat down to the piano 
 and acompanied his rich, sweet voice whilst he 
 sang some simple and plaintive Scotch ballads. 
 Then he asked for a favourite set of waltzes, 
 which she played with much grace and lightness ; 
 when they were nearly ended, he approached me 
 and whispered, looking at her whilst he spoke : 
 
 " She is young, innocent, and loves me ; 
 Chatty, do you think I shall be able to make 
 her happy?" 
 
BY THE SEA. 113 
 
 " Yes," I answered, resolutely, (i I am sure 
 you will, if " 
 
 " You hesitate ; your voice is stern ; e if I 
 try to do so' — is not that what is in your thoughts? 
 and you doubt it? Chatty, you are hard upon 
 me. I will try. Do you believe me ? " 
 
 I looked upon him earnestly ; the expression 
 of his eyes was grave, kindly, and frank. I felt 
 as if I had been too hard upon him. 
 
 " I do believe you," I answered, more softly. 
 
 " Thank you. And you will not forget your 
 promise ; you will be a friend to me always, will 
 you not? If you see me henceforth forgetting 
 my high duties and self-respect, you will reprove 
 me, and lead me back to honour and to unselfish- 
 ness, will you not ? " 
 
 I promised, and he continued : 
 
 " Do not judge me by other men : you may 
 see some leading an easy and safe course; men 
 whose blood runs lukewarm in their veins, whose 
 passions are still waters — such men are never 
 tempted, and the world calls them virtuous : and 
 there are some who are born with fiery temper- 
 
 VOL. II. I 
 
114 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 aments and strong impulses ; sometimes such men 
 become great, sometimes the turning of a feather 
 may bring on their ruin, and then the finger of 
 all is raised in mockery over their fall ! " 
 
 His voice quivered with excitement, and in a 
 hurried under-tone he added — 
 
 "Dear Chatty, to you alone I have revealed 
 something of my impulsive and dangerous nature. 
 To what it has led me you have been a witness. 
 I have injured you, you reproved me courageously; 
 you forgave me nobly. So, if I sin seventy 
 times seven, you will also forgive me, will you 
 not?" 
 
 I gave my word of promise, and then he re-seated 
 himself by Jeannie's side. As he did so there was 
 suddenly heard the sound of a carriage driving 
 quickly up the avenue, followed instantly by a 
 violent ring of the bell. 
 
 Every one looked up in surprise. Mrs. Dunstan 
 took out her watch : " Twenty minutes to ten, and 
 the train comes in at half-past nine; it must be 
 Ross " 
 
 " But Ross has not been here for so long, mamma," 
 
BY THE SEA. 115 
 
 Jeannie interrupted, deprecatingly, " he would 
 scarcely come — " 
 
 " Quand on parle du diable on en voit la queue ! " 
 said Mrs. Dunstan, as the door opened and the 
 subject of their conversation entered. " My dear 
 Ross, I am so glad to see you." 
 
 She shook her visitor's hand with much warmth, 
 and when he had greeted the rest of the party, 
 motioned him to take the chair next to her own. 
 Lindsay had fallen into his old attitude, with his 
 head bending over Jeannie, and his hand playing 
 caressingly with her shining chestnut hair. I saw 
 Mrs. Dunstan glance cursorily at them, and then 
 lay her hand on Ross's arm, and speak to him with 
 a smiling affectation. At the first sentence, he 
 lifted his eyes to the Count, said a few congratu- 
 latory words, with an odd smile which he tried 
 to suppress, and again relapsed into his cold 
 indifference. Mrs. Dunstan's hand touched his 
 arm a second time ; in this instance she said 
 but three words, and spoke without coquetry or 
 meaning. 
 
 Ross's brow grew dark. 
 
 I 2 
 
116 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 He darted a sharp short glance in the direction 
 of the lovers ; his lips were compressed as with 
 an expression of sudden pain; his pale face 
 flushed slightly for an instant, and then was paler 
 than before. No one observed this but myself; 
 Angelica's head was turned another way, Mrs. 
 Dunstan had begun an interesting dialogue 
 with, the Count, and Lindsay and Jeannie were 
 occupied with each other; but that strong and 
 uncommon emotion, such as I should never have 
 supposed it possible for Ross Dunstan to feel, 
 he whose constitution and temperament seemed to 
 be of iron, that momentary ruffling of the smooth 
 surface, brought with it an incontestible con- 
 viction. He loved Jeannie. 
 
 And with that conviction, came a hundred 
 other thoughts, which though till now forgotten 
 only added burden to the proof. Why had he 
 come down so often to Helmsley-End ? Why 
 had he testified so much pleasure at her naive 
 welcomes ? Why had he taken such trouble in 
 gratifying her wishes? Why had he softened 
 down as it were, to suit her gentleness ? And 
 
BY THE SEA. 117 
 
 might not jealousy have added somewhat to 
 his preconceived aversion to Lindsay ? 
 
 Any how, I could forgive him freely, since 
 I saw he suffered; and when he came up to 
 me, I held out my hand frankly to him, and 
 said — 
 
 " I am glad you are here ; I wanted to see 
 you so much." 
 
 "You?" he exclaimed, in a voice of surprise, 
 and at the same time drawing a chair beside 
 me. " I should have thought I was the last 
 person you w r ould have wished to see." 
 
 "Yes," I answered, blushing, "I did want to 
 see you, and I am sorry that I ever gave you 
 reason to infer the contrary. Mr. Dunstan, you 
 told me in kindness what you believed to be 
 true, and I was childish enough to be angry : 
 will you forgive me ? " 
 
 " Oh, I have forgiven you long ago, so let 
 us be good friends. And I have now something 
 else to talk to you about." 
 
 He drew his chair closer, and added, in a 
 low voice — 
 
118 THE "WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " It lias come to this, then." 
 
 His eye was fixed on the lovers, and 1 
 understood what he meant. 
 
 " Will she be happy ?" he continued, moodily. 
 
 " He seems very fond of her." 
 
 " And she loves him ? " 
 
 " I think so," I replied, " indeed I am assured 
 of it I have heard it from her own lips." 
 
 He turned round quickly, and laid his hand 
 on my arm ; with a convulsive movement. 
 
 " Chatt} 7 ," he whispered, in a terrible voice 
 of energy and despair, " it must not be ! Save 
 her, save her ! You are her friend — you love 
 her?" 
 
 " Truly, most truly." 
 
 (( As you value the happiness of her whole life 
 save her from this step. Entreat her on your 
 knees with tears ; oh, she must not, shall not 
 marry him." 
 
 His vehemence startled me, and I was silent. 
 
 "You will do this, will you not?" he added, 
 in a calmer tone : " remember how much may 
 depend upon the course she takes." 
 
BY THE SEA. H9 
 
 " But," I asked, urged by a desire to do Lindsay 
 justice, "why do you speak thus— what is he, 
 what has he done, that you should have so much 
 fear for Jeannie. Oh, I do think he will strive to 
 render her happy— I do indeed ! I know that he 
 is faulty, I know that his principles yield to 
 impulse and the passing excitement of the minute, 
 but his heart is generous." 
 
 "Listen to me," Ross continued, impressively 
 and coldly. "You do me injustice, but I for o-ive 
 you. You have been reasoning like a true woman, 
 from your feelings— do not seek to interrupt me— 
 nor can I wonder at it. Lindsay Jocelyn has 
 created in your mind an interest that I could not 
 possibly have done, and when I speak against him 
 I can but expect that you will be ready to defend 
 him. Chatty, I am not one who would willingly 
 do injury to any man. I would not injure Lindsay 
 Jocelyn to the value of a hair, and I should be the 
 last to impute to him any unrighteous thing, to 
 sully his fair name in the eyes of those who love 
 him— but he is not tkue ! You would know more ; 
 that, however, is not in my power to tell you. I 
 
120 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 should not think it consistent with my honour to 
 make known to any one a personal secret, which 
 has come to my knowledge by chance. He is not 
 true — he is not to be trusted. Handsome he is — 
 handsome, winning, and I believe in the main 
 possessed of a kind heart — but he is false, selfish, 
 unstable, unprincipled. Do you still think that I 
 see with a jaundiced eye ? I would stake my exist- 
 ence on what I have told you. I know him well. 
 Now," he added, fixing his penetrating glance 
 upon me, "now, is it not incumbent on you to 
 do your utmost to prevent this marriage?" 
 
 " She would not listen to me," I said, sorrow- 
 fully. 
 
 " You believe that she loves him, then ? " he 
 asked, in an eager voice. 
 
 "I believe that she loves him with all her 
 heart." 
 
 "I cannot speak to her myself," he said, 
 musingly. 
 
 "Indeed I will do all you wish me," I exclaimed; 
 ;t but I know, I am quite certain, it would be of 
 no avail. Oh, what can be done ! " 
 
BY THE SEA. 121 
 
 " I will speak to her myself, in spite of every- 
 thing," Ross answered, in a hurried whisper, for 
 the party was breaking up ; " one effort shall be 
 made, and God speed it." 
 
122 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XLIL 
 
 And the effort was made. How much it cost 
 Ross's chivalrous and noble nature, I little then 
 knew, but all his words were vain — vain. She 
 wept ; she implored him to think more generously 
 of Lindsay, but she never gave way for one 
 instant. Brave, faithful, true - hearted little 
 Jeannie ! Nothing that Ross could say had 
 power to shake her decision, even though at 
 all other times, his slightest word had carried 
 with it " confirmation, strong as Holy Writ ! " 
 Lindsay might have many, many faults — he 
 might occasion her sorrow, but she loved him, 
 and she would be true to him whatever might 
 happen. 
 
 " I have done a friend's part," said Ross to me, 
 in a voice of bitter gloominess, " a part, moreover, 
 which I believe no one in my situation would 
 
BY THE SEA. 123 
 
 have done, but I can do no more. I can only 
 leave the rest in the hands of God, and go, since 
 now my very presence must be hateful to her. 
 And oh, Chatty, who can help loving her the 
 better for her steadfastness ! Yet I can do no 
 good ; she will be happier when I am away." 
 
 Sunday dragged itself out wearily; there 
 seemed to be a constraint on every one, and I 
 could not but look back to the quiet happy Sun- 
 days I was wont to spend at Mr. Stirling's ; Sun- 
 da}^ that were holy days, in the spirit, and not in 
 the letter, and which were never spent without 
 profit. Monday was hardly better ; but on Mon- 
 day night Lindsay was to go. The next morning 
 Ross would leave also, and I reckoned upon some 
 quiet days with Jeannie. 
 
 Both these days Angelica had never addressed 
 to me a single word ; indeed she had hardly spoken 
 to any one, her eyes wore an unnatural look of 
 restlessness and unquiet thought; an unwonted 
 colour had flushed her dark complexion, and her 
 whole aspect was that of an individual whose mind 
 was under the influence of some extraordinary and 
 
124 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 strong excitement She never stayed in tlie same 
 place for five consecutive minutes ; she took up a 
 book, a leaf was turned, and then the book was 
 flung down, and she flitted away. At dinner-time 
 her conduct was still more singular ; I kept a con- 
 stant watch on her, and I observed that since I had 
 entered the house she had never eaten a morsel. 
 And yet, I do not believe that this was observed 
 by any one but myself. Mrs. Dunstan was too 
 much interested by her duties as host, the Count 
 was too much of a gourmand, Jeannie too much 
 occupied in talking to Lindsay, and Ross too full of 
 his own thoughts. Besides, one's eyes must have 
 been very quick to see through it. The plate 
 was put before her ; she tasted her wine, handled 
 her knife and fork, made a gesture of impatience ; 
 and seemed delighted when the next course was 
 brought to the table ; this was repeated several 
 times during the course of the dinner. I also 
 noticed that her presence seemed to make Lindsay 
 nervous and excitable ; he would carefully evade 
 encountering her glance, and seize every opportu- 
 nity to be alone with Jeannie. Once, in the 
 
BY THE SEA. 125 
 
 early part of the evening on which he was to 
 leave, he was standing in a thoughtful attitude 
 by the window ; it was nearly twilight, and 
 Jeannie was playing some of his favourite Scotch 
 airs. Suddenly Angelica glided softly to his side ; 
 the light was obscure, but I could see that she 
 laid her hand on his arm, and looked up into 
 his face as if imploringly : he bent very low and 
 whispered a few words, then she reared her 
 head, looked up in his face for a minute, and, 
 with a haughty and erect carriage, left the room. 
 Koss drew me significantly into the niche of a 
 bay window. 
 
 " Are you convinced at last ? " he asked, in 
 almost an ironical voice. 
 " To what do you allude ?" 
 " There is understanding between them. This 
 is but a drop in the ocean of proofs, but it is a 
 drop clear enough. You saw it?" 
 « Yes." 
 
 " And you still doubt ? Chatty, Chatty, you 
 blind yourself to reason. Confess, is this the 
 first time you have had such a suspicion?" 
 
126 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 The remembrance of the evening on which I 
 had leaned on the balustrade came to me forcibly. 
 
 " No," I answered, with firmness, " I will speak 
 the truth. It is not." 
 
 He leaned his head on his hand in gloomy 
 meditation. 
 
 " But," I continued, struck with a new thought, 
 " he does not love her ; he avoids her ; he tries 
 to shake off her influence. I have seen instances 
 of it twenty times to-day." 
 
 " I wish I could think of it in any other light 
 than that which I now do. He may try to shake 
 off her influence — what then? Think you his 
 will is as strong as hers ? A woman in love — 
 and a Spaniard ! Good Heaven, I cannot think 
 of her without a shudder !" 
 
 I said no more, and indeed I had no heart to 
 talk, for I felt so much confidence in Ross, and 
 so little in myself, that I could not help yielding 
 to his uncheering mood. 
 
 Nine o'clock came, and Lindsay went; the rest of 
 the evening passed heavily enough, and never before 
 had I welcomed Mrs. Dunstan's prayer-bell with 
 
BY THE SEA. 127 
 
 so much thankfulness. At eleven it rang, and then 
 all the household, including butler, ladies'-maids, 
 cooks, footmen, and page, -were marshalled into 
 the lower part of the room; no absenting was 
 allowed, for in this Mrs. Dunstan was as strict as 
 a Puritan, and even Angelica had reappeared. 
 The chapter was read as usual, and the prayer 
 begun, when, all on a sudden, a wild, ringing 
 scream was heard, and Angelica, holding her 
 hands tight across her forehead, rushed out of 
 the room, like one bereft of reason. 
 
 Instantly every one rose from their knees, pale 
 with terror. Mrs. Dunstan sank, half fainting, 
 into a chair, and Jeannie looked alternately from 
 Ross to me, unable to speak from surprise and 
 affright. 
 
 "My engagement " she murmured at last. 
 
 a Oh, it is that at the bottom of it," exclaimed 
 poor Mrs. Dunstan almost hysterically, "it is all 
 that; ever since she heard of it, she has not been 
 like herself, and now it has turned her brain. Oh, 
 Ross, what is to be done? Chatty, send for Dr. 
 Lambert. Stevens, go to her!" 
 
128 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 But Stevens looked at Thompson, and Thompson 
 looked at Denny; no one stirred. 
 
 " Go to her, I say ! " reiterated Mrs. Dunstan, 
 in a voice of agonized distress. " Oh, what shall 
 we do? We misvht have thought it would end so." 
 
 " Calm yourself, my dear aunt," Ross said, 
 composedly; "I do not think you have any great 
 cause of alarm. I believe that her brain is no 
 more affected than mine is. It is but an ebulli- 
 tion of passion, and a crisis of uncontrollable 
 feeling, which is constitutional, and I have no 
 doubt will pass over. Still it is highly advisable 
 that some steps should be taken." 
 
 His keen collected glance passed over the file of 
 servants; they quailed under it. "Chatty," he 
 continued, "you are strong-minded and self-con- 
 trolled. You are the only fit person. Go ! " 
 
 Mrs. Dunstan and Jeannie each took hold of 
 my hands. 
 
 "Oh no, no!" they said, " why should she 
 endanger herself?" but I released myself from 
 their grasp, and took up a night-candle. 
 
 Ross's eye fell on me approvingly, and I went. 
 
BY THE SEA. 129 
 
 I do not seek to say that it was without a slight 
 tremor and nervousness, but it was momentary, for 
 time and circumstance had habituated me to self- 
 restraint and composure. The door stood open, 
 and the light of my candle revealed to me the 
 figure of Angelica walking to and fro in the room, 
 her long black hair hanging over her shoulders, 
 her small hands clasped over her temples, and 
 her dark eyes shining with a wild lustre. 
 
 She no longer hated me; why should I fear? 
 I crossed the threshold boldly. 
 
 " Angelica," I said softly, " Angelica." 
 
 She started as she heard my voice, and motioned 
 me angrily away, but I put down the candle, and 
 touched her hand; it was burning hot. 
 
 " No," I said calmly, " I will not go; you may 
 command me, but it is of no avail; I will stay 
 till you are more composed. " 
 
 " Go, go ! " she exclaimed in a voice of impatience. 
 "Go! why will you irritate me thus? Have I 
 not enough to bear already? Go!" 
 
 She seized my wrist with a vice-like grasp, 
 but I sat quite still, and met her sharp gaze 
 
 VOL. H. K 
 
130 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 unmovedly ; at this time I was pale, and carried 
 the trace of much mental suffering in my eyes. 
 
 " You above all others," she added, in a quieter 
 voice, " you who should have pity in your heart 
 for me, for you loved him. Ah ! none others read 
 your secret. You kept it very, very close, but I 
 saw it — I saw it from the first. I saw it from 
 that autumn evening when we met — do you 
 remember — in that lonely house by the sea ? And 
 you thought that no one saw how your eyes 
 followed him when he spoke, and how the colour 
 quivered on your cheek, and the words trembled 
 on your lips when you felt that he was looking 
 at you — and I hated you — I hated you, but I do 
 not hate you now, for you loved him in vain — 
 all in vain I" 
 
 The burning hand was taken from my wrist, 
 and she raised her head, exclaiming, with a 
 triumphant, unnatural laugh : 
 
 " All in vain ! and since that I never hated 
 you, Chatty Warne. I never hated you when 
 I found that he made a mockery of your love. 
 Oh no. I never liked any one better than I 
 
BY THE SEA. 131 
 
 liked you then. At least you have got that to 
 thank him for, Chatty — for my affection ! — my 
 affection — and I can like as well as I can 
 hate, I assure you. Oh, I can like very well 
 indeed ! " 
 
 Then she sat down on a low seat, and gave 
 way to a terrible burst of hysterical crying *md 
 laughing. 
 
 K2 
 
132 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 Two or three wretched and uncomfortable days 
 passed. Mrs. Dunstan never, but once, dared to 
 enter Angelica's room ; I believe she thought 
 her mad, and indeed her hollow, glaring eyes, 
 and extravagant behaviour, might have induced 
 others, wiser than Mrs. Dunstan, to form the 
 same opinion. She never rested night nor day — 
 she took neither sleep, food, nor aliment of any 
 kind. Sometimes she would sit for some minutes 
 with her head resting on her hand, gazing at the 
 fire with an expression of listless indifference, and 
 now and then speaking to herself in low, unin- 
 telligible accents; then she would rise suddenly, 
 pace the room up and down with unquiet, hasty 
 steps, her hands clasped over her brow, her lips 
 shut, as if keeping down some strong inner 
 
BY THE SEA. 133 
 
 suffering. How beautiful she was ! Yet that 
 beauty had something fearful in it now. Dr. 
 Lambert was called in; but what could he do? 
 It was a case of pure mental excitement — excite- 
 ment of the strongest kind, and which affected 
 the system, but which the system in no wise 
 affected. Her mind was drowned with the 
 vehemence of disappointment and despair ; in such 
 a personal case no science could avail. He re- 
 commended me to be constantly with her, to 
 humour her as far as possible, and, above all 
 things, not to urge her to take nourishment; 
 she would be much more likely to do anything 
 which was strenuously opposed, and vice versa. 
 He then shook his head very gravely, and took 
 his leave. 
 
 Ross did not go; I entreated him to stay 
 a few days longer, and Mrs. Dunstan joined 
 in my petitions with tears in her eyes. She 
 was so upset — so nervous, she was assured she 
 should not be able to sleep a wink, if he went, 
 for he seemed to be a protection to the house. 
 Poor Mrs. Dunstan was really to be pitied ; she 
 
134 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 had taken Angelica beneath her roof, from 
 her school-girl days, and had put up with all 
 her wayward humours, with a patience and 
 good-nature that was almost a virtue. Of later 
 years she had allowed her to have her own way, 
 merely from fear of contradiction, and all the 
 little household bubbles of contention had been of 
 Angelica's making. And I really believe that 
 partly from ties of relationship, and partly from 
 long intercourse, Mrs. Dunstan almost loved 
 her. Certainly no one else could rule her as the 
 young Indian girl did. 
 
 I never left her for one moment, and I 
 solemnly believe that, through the mercy of 
 God, I was thereby the means of saving a human 
 life. I shudder even now as I recall this dark 
 and terrible epoch of my life. It was on a 
 stormy night: the March winds howled and 
 raged like agonized spirits; the hail and rain 
 beat with a wailing sobbing sound against the 
 casements. The fierceness of the tempest seemed 
 to impart a new vehemence to her grief. She rose 
 from her bed, and paced the corridor, robed 
 
BT THE SEA. 135 
 
 in white, and with dishevelled hair, like an 
 unhappy ghost. Then she covered her face in her 
 hands, and moaned aloud. I was lying very 
 still and quiet; she thought I slept; suddenly 
 she murmured w T ords of fearful import, and 
 going to her escritoire, passed her hand over 
 a secret drawer, and drew out a small round 
 case. An expression of awful resolution and 
 despair came over her face ; she uttered his 
 name, then — oh, fearful, fearful thought ! — I saw 
 it raised to her lips ! 
 
 A horrible spell of nightmare seemed to 
 bind me, but I made a desperate effort and 
 screamed aloud. With the speed of lightning 
 the case was replaced, the secret drawer closed, 
 and the escritoire moved away. 
 
 " Pardon me," I said, with as much calmness 
 as I could, " it was only a spasm which awoke me ; 
 I am subject to it, but — but if you would do me a 
 small service I think I could sleep again. In 
 my valise in Jeannie's room, is a little bottle 
 of smelling salts which always relieve me on 
 such occasions. Would vou fetch it for me ?" 
 
136 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 She acquiesced, and with trembling haste I 
 took down the escritoire ; it was not locked, 
 and the spring of the drawer yielded easily 
 to my touch ; to pour out the contents of the fatal 
 phial was the work of a moment, to fill it again 
 with water, was done in another. Before she 
 returned, I was in my old position. The night 
 passed, I know not how; towards morning I 
 fell into a short sleep ; when I awoke a change 
 had come. 
 
 Angelica was sitting on a wicker chair by 
 the fire, in her old attitude of dreaming care- 
 lessness, but one glance sufficed to tell me that 
 some mysterious power had influenced her. 
 She was dressed in her usual way, and with 
 her usual magnificence and care. The smooth 
 black hair, was gathered up in loose, but elegant 
 fashion around her slender throat, and olive 
 cheek; diamonds and sapphires glittered on 
 her fingers and arms; the becoming and cus- 
 tomary morning dress of white muslin contrasted 
 with her dusky loveliness. Her cheeks were 
 sunken, but burned with a glow of rose, her eyes 
 
BY THE SEA. 137 
 
 sparkled with a strange expression of triumph, 
 and seemed to look into the book of Fate, whilst 
 she ever and anon muttered mysterious words 
 about Victory or Death. 
 
 When she saw me awake, she ran eagerly 
 up to my bedside. 
 
 " See !" she exclaimed, "you have now no cause 
 to remain here; I shall wander about like a 
 ghost, and terrify my aunt, no more. The storm 
 last night seemed to take all the fever from 
 me. Look at me. Is not my brow clear, and 
 my eye steady ? Feel my pulse ; does it not 
 beat as regularly as your own ? Won't my good 
 aunt be glad to hear it ? Come, you must make 
 haste and go to her. But I forgot, why should 
 not I go with you ? " 
 
 She assisted me to dress with her own hands, 
 and taking my arm descended to the breakfast 
 room. Poor Mrs. Dunstan seemed ready to 
 sink with terror. Jeannie, more brave, rose and 
 shook hands with her, in her usual way. It 
 was a curious breakfast. Every one kept talking, 
 from the consciousness of every one's disinclination 
 
138 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 to talk. When it was over, Ross drew me 
 aside. 
 
 " So, Chatty," he said, with a smile, " y our 
 mad Richard is herself again ! I can't help 
 fancying that none of us can see through the 
 whole affair, but skin-deep. Why should she 
 have affected such fondness to Jeannie of late ? 
 There was evidently deception in that; it was 
 a blind no doubt to hide some revengeful design. 
 I wish we could get Jeannie away from the 
 place. I am quite uneasy with regard to her. 
 I shall get Mrs. Dunstan's consent to letting her 
 return with me to London, to stay with my 
 married brother. You will help to persuade her, 
 will you not?" 
 
 " Oh, most gladly." 
 
 " And, Chatty," Ross continued, in a tone of 
 sarcastic contempt, "my aunt has been letting 
 a little light upon my mind, with regard to 
 Lindsay Jocelyn. That amiable young gentle- 
 man, I believe, never testified any particular 
 affection for my cousin till a few days ago ? " 
 
 I made no answer, and he went on. 
 
BY THE SEA. 139 
 
 " And Lie first testified that particular attention 
 just after Mrs. Dunstan's approaching marriage to 
 the Count was announced? Mark his pro- 
 ceedings: Mrs. Dunstan was greatly indignant 
 because her late husband left Jeannie an equal 
 fortune with herself, and to devolve entirely upon 
 her, in case of the former marrying again. All 
 this my aunt pours into Lindsa}^ Jocelyn's ears ; 
 for she, like every one else, might say with Noricus 
 in the old play : 
 
 " Tout en lui nous parut etre au-dessus de l'homme : 
 Ce n'est point un niortel, un heros ; c'est un dieu :" 
 
 so entirely and unscrupulously does she ascribe 
 to him all that is good and beautiful in human 
 kind. Well, she tells him how determined she 
 is to marry, and how certain it is that half 
 the late Mr. Dunstan's tens of thousands will 
 fall into the executor's hands for Jeannie. He 
 is indolent, he is fond of ease, he has little or 
 no property. Jeannie's fortune will render him 
 wealthy, independent of labour But I will say 
 
140 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 no more. God knows I have faults enough of 
 my own; only I cannot help trembling for 
 Jeannie — poor child ! " 
 
 Early in the afternoon Lindsay came; he 
 was looking very bright and joyous, and, with only 
 a word of greeting, went to the stables to order 
 horses for a ride with Jeannie. They did not 
 return till nearly dinner-time : Jeannie ran up-stairs 
 with a face flushed with health and happiness to 
 dress ; the groom led away the horses, and Lindsay 
 strolled into the gardens. For a long time 
 he wandered about, till it grew dusk, and I could 
 hardly distinguish his tall figure from the winter 
 shrubberies. At length I saw something white 
 fluttering beside him. Half an hour passed, it 
 grew dusker still, but when I could no longer 
 distinguish the tall figure towering in the distance, 
 the fluttering; of the white robe indicated his 
 presence. 
 
 At seven the dinner-bell rang. Oh, I shall 
 never forget that dinner, as long as I live ! 
 A shadow seemed to have fallen upon all, but 
 
BY THE SEA. 141 
 
 darkest, heaviest upon Lindsay; for he sat by 
 my side, fearfully pale and silent, as if his spirit 
 had no power to break from a terrible spell 
 that bound it. 
 
142 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 It is past midnight, and yet I cannot sleep. A 
 strange unaccountable oppression weighs upon my 
 heart, as of a foreshadowing of evil — yet why so? 
 Child, weak, foolish that I am. Has not life 
 sorrows and dark realities enough, without an 
 imagining and seeking after them? 
 
 I try hard to shake off this morbid mood. It 
 was an old habit of mine, during the last two years 
 of my father's life, to make up for the little leisure 
 I had in the day-time, by an hour or two's study 
 at night, when the rest were asleep; sometimes, if 
 the book were interesting, it would be almost mid- 
 night ere I closed it. Those quiet readings were 
 very delightful to me, and even now, when I had 
 no longer occasion for so doing, I had never given 
 up the habit. 
 
BY THE SEA. 143 
 
 So, taking up a volume of Macaulay's glorious 
 essays, I draw an easy chair to the fire, and begin 
 to read. I choose the book from many others, as 
 one that cannot fail to engage my mind, and yet, 
 after the first few lines, the letters seem to turn 
 themselves upside down, and spell imaginary 
 words; all the meaning is lost upon me, and I lay 
 aside the book in despair. Surely I am not grow- 
 ing nervous ? Heaven forbid— no, it must be that 
 the gas-lights affect my eyes. Well, I will just 
 wait till the fire is out, then I will go to bed. 
 
 I sleep in Jeannie's room to-night. She entreated 
 me so earnestly that I could not refuse; but I do 
 not think there is any fear of hearing Angelica's 
 ghost-like step, and weird soliloquies. She 
 begged Mrs. Dunstan, almost on her knees, to let 
 her be alone that night: she promised, with a 
 thousand protestations, that she would sleep 
 serenely, and composedly: the house should be 
 undisturbed; not a sound should be heard, and 
 Mrs. Dunstan was only too glad to consent. 
 
 Angelica had kept her word. The house was 
 very, very silent, not a sound was heard. 
 
144 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Yet I cannot sleep, Once I fell into a long- 
 train of thought; it was almost like sleep, so 
 tranquil, and full of dreams, but in the midst I was 
 awaked by a sound as of footsteps. It was a very- 
 slight sound. gHad the stillness been less complete I 
 I should not have heard it, yet I could not be 
 deceived. Some one was walking along the 
 corridor, very stealthily, very cautiously, very 
 noiselessly. My heart beat quickly as I listened. 
 For a few minutes I heard no more, then came 
 the sound again, only it seemed to be echoed, 
 as if two persons were walking instead of one. 
 The footsteps passed my door, crossed the 
 corridor, then died away in the distance, and 
 the stillness was as unbroken as before. 
 
 I trembled violently; yet why this fear and 
 apprehension? Pshaw! it is only Angelica; the 
 feverish restlessness has not quite left her yet, and 
 she is trying to cool her burning brain by the 
 night air ; she has done it many times before, why 
 should she not do it again? It was my diseased 
 fancy that magnified the single footsteps; night- 
 watching and overworked anxiety made me 
 
BY THE SEA. 145 
 
 fearful, childish and melancholy, I resolved to go 
 to bed, and sleep soundly. As I crossed the room 
 to kiss Jeannie's fair young face, which smiled 
 so peacefully in her slumbers, I passed the window, 
 and unconsciously looked out. It was a clear star- 
 light night, and I could see nothing, but suddenly 
 my heart stood still with a sickening feeling of 
 terror. There is a sound without of horses' feet 
 and carriage-wheels; first the sound is subdued 
 but near, as if a vehicle were starting slowly, 
 then there is a slight click, as if the back gate was 
 shut carefully, and then the carriage drives off at 
 a furious pace, and the pace grows quicker and 
 quicker, till it is no more heard. 
 
 For a few minutes I stand at the window 
 breathless and powerless, with a dread sense of 
 fear. And yet it cannot, cannot be ! the mere 
 suspicion of the thought is too dreadful to bear. 
 Anything, the worst even, is preferable to this 
 harrowing suspense. I lighted a night-candle, 
 and sought with faltering steps Angelica's room. 
 
 It was empty — empty, dark, and disordered. 
 The bed had not been slept upon, the floor was 
 
 VOL. II. L 
 
146 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 strewed with dresses and shawls, loose money was 
 scattered upon the table, the drawers and ward- 
 robes stood wide open, the escritoire and jewel-box 
 are gone. Oh, Heavens, I cannot doubt it now ! 
 
 They have fled — fled together ! 
 
 My first impulse was to go to Mrs. Dunstan. 
 Then I recoiled. No, it would be imprudent to 
 take such a step at this hour ; it might bring on 
 illness, so unexpected a shock as it would be to 
 her, and so nervously irritable as she was. And 
 poor, poor Jeannie ! what should I do ? A bright 
 thought flashed across my mind. I would wake 
 up Ross at once. He could advise me. 
 
 Shivering in every limb, and blanched with 
 the horror of the conviction which had just 
 dawned upon me, I stood at his door. 
 
 " Ross," I said in the most collected tone I was 
 capable of, and tapping on the panel gently, " Ross, 
 I have something to say to you; rise, rise 
 quickly ! " 
 
 " Who wants me ; is any one speaking ? " 
 
 "It is I, Chatty Warne. Dear Ross get up, 
 I entreat you, something has happened." 
 
BY THE SEA. 147 
 
 In two or three minutes he was dressed and 
 opened the door. 
 
 " Good Heavens! why, Chatty, child what is the 
 matter ? My dear girl, do speak — what is it ? you 
 are as white as a ghost and tremble from head to 
 foot." 
 
 " Angelica " I faltered — " Angelica and 
 
 Lindsay, oh Ross! they have gone!" 
 
 "Gone?" 
 
 He repeated the word twice, and then my 
 meaning seemed to come home to him. A cold 
 sweat rose to his brow. 
 
 u Traitor — coward — villain ! " he exclaimed, 
 with flashing eyes and set teeth ; (i but are you 
 sure — oh, he would not be so cruel toJeannie!" 
 
 I repeated to him what I had heard and seen. 
 I saw a dark tempest of indignation gather on 
 my companion's brow as I proceeded, but he was 
 perfectly calm and self-possessed. 
 
 w Wait here ! " he said to me, when I had 
 finished. " There is only one more proof needed. 
 I will go at once to his room. Sit down ; you 
 are quite faint I will not be a minute." 
 
 l 2 
 
148 THE WHITE norsE 
 
 Soon he returned, holding in his hand a folded 
 paper. 
 
 Si Chatty," he exclaimed, in a hollow voice, 
 " it is true ! The worst that I ever feared, from 
 his untruthful and fickle heart has come. His 
 vanity led him to yield to that woman's influence, 
 and now it has brought his ruin. I found this 
 paper on his dressing-table addressed to you, 
 read it." 
 
 And with aching eyes, and heart-broken 
 thoughts, I read the following : — 
 
 "Love her — comfort her — teach her to forget 
 me — forget me yourself also, since I am no longer 
 worthy of your friendship." 
 
 It was written in pencil, and with evidence 
 of great haste and excitement. 
 
 " Oh, Ross!" I exclaimed, with clasped hands 
 and streaming tears, " who will have courage to tell 
 her this?" 
 
 He leaned his face upon his hand, in an attitude 
 of deep grief and meditation. 
 
 " So happy, so confiding as she is, too," he 
 said at last, " it breaks my heart to think of 
 
BY THE SEA. 149 
 
 the misery which the morning will bring to 
 her. But it must be done: it must be broken 
 to her, gently and carefully." 
 
 I looked up wistfully to him. 
 
 " I cannot — I cannot ! " he exclaimed, with 
 emotion, " I could look without a tremor upon 
 the rack, but I could not bear to witness her 
 sorrow. Chatty," he added, in a subdued voice, 
 "dear Chatty, it is a hard task, but you will 
 do it — will you not ? " 
 
 I covered my face in my hands, and burst into 
 an agony of tears. 
 
 Ross wept also. 
 
 Oh, it moved my heart to witness the tears 
 of that strong, brave man ! Then it was, that 
 I first felt the nobleness, and depth, and tenderness 
 of that sterling nature. I felt how much I had 
 underrated the stern goodness and uprightness 
 which was hidden beneath such an unwinning 
 exterior, and how far more rare and valuable, 
 was that very sternness and hard demeanour, to 
 the polished and briliant bearing that so charmed 
 my fancy. 
 
150 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 I touched his arm lightly. 
 
 " I will tell her," I said gently. " I will do 
 my best to comfort her, indeed I will." 
 
 fe God in heaven bless yon, for your good 
 courageous heart, and reward you ! " he murmured 
 fervently. " I cannot." 
 
 " But when — when must it be ? " 
 
 He took out his watch. 
 
 " Four o'clock, and she will not rise till seven. 
 If she sleeps, do not wake her ; let her be happy 
 whilst she can, and you need rest " 
 
 I shook my head sadly. 
 
 " You will not try to sleep ? Ah, you are so 
 thoroughly overwrought, you had better then " 
 
 Here his voice quivered. 
 
 " When she wakes — when she wakes ! " he 
 exclaimed hurriedly, and turning his face away. 
 u Oh, would to God, that it were over ! " 
 
BY THE SEA. 151 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 She was just ready to descend to the breakfast 
 room: looking so pretty, and bright, and joyous, 
 with the rose of health and happiness glowing on 
 her cheek, and a light of hopefulness and love 
 shining in her innocent eye — oh, it was hard to 
 tell her then! Yet it must be done, and I 
 had promised. 
 
 "Jeannie," I said, striving hard to be calm, 
 " you must not go down yet ; I have something to 
 say to you." 
 
 She darted a quick, eager glance at my pale 
 features. 
 
 " Oh, some dreadful thing has happened ! 
 Chatty, do tell me!" 
 
 I drew her into the room, and seating myself 
 by her side took both her hands in mine. 
 
152 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " Yes, a dreadful thing lias happened." 
 
 " They have quarrelled — Ro3s has fought a duel 
 with him — he is killed ! " she exclaimed, in a voice 
 broken by an agony of suspense. 
 
 "No," I continued; "there has been no quarrel. 
 Ross has had nothing to do with it. Jeannie, 
 you can never marry Lindsay Jocelyn ; he is 
 unworthy of your love — you must forget him; 
 forget him entirely." 
 
 I put my arm around the poor trembling form, 
 and drew her to my bosom. 
 
 " Jeannie, my poor Jeannie ! he has gone ; 
 gone in the night with " 
 
 She made no answer ; she lay utterly still in 
 my arms — still, marble-like, and despairing. 
 
 "With Angelica. Jeannie, you know all; he is 
 heartless and ignoble: be brave; despise, forget 
 him." 
 
 "Forget him!" 
 
 Her voice quivered with the intensity of her 
 mental anguish ; she released her hold from my 
 neck, and sinking down on the ground, buried her 
 
BY THE SEA. 153 
 
 face in the folds of my dress and wept as if her 
 heart would break. At first I attempted no com- 
 fort, for I felt that tears would be a relief; but 
 when hours passed, and though the passionate 
 weeping had ceased, still came at regular intervals 
 the low, choking sob which speaks the deepest 
 suffering, I grew frightened. 
 
 a Jeannie," I said, tenderly, " Jeannie, do you 
 love me ? " 
 
 She pressed my hand in reply. 
 
 "And you do not wish me to be unhappy?" 
 
 "No; oh no." 
 
 <c How can I help being unhappy whilst I see 
 you in this grief? Dear, dear Jeannie, try to be 
 brave, to overcome it. For my sake, for Mrs. 
 Dunstan's, make one effort. He is not worthy of 
 such regret." 
 
 " Chatty, forgive me, oh forgive me ! " she mur- 
 mured, " but I loved him so — I loved no one else 
 in the world like him, and I thought he was so 
 good and true ; and to find that he never loved 
 me ; to know that I shall never, never see him 
 again ! " 
 
154 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 She drew a long, deep-drawn sigh, and then 
 burst into tears afresh. The sobs shook her slight 
 frame, and witnessed the terrible vehemence of 
 her sorrow. Oh Jeannie, Jeannie, none knew the 
 depth and earnestness that were hidden in thy 
 gentle, silent heart ! 
 
 Night came. Her cheeks were hollow as if 
 worn by the tears of a whole year's sorrow; but 
 she had grown calm, terribly calm; her lips were 
 shut with a look of despondency ; her eyes had a 
 stony look; she hardly seemed like our bright, 
 childlike Jeannie of yesterday. 
 
 " Tell me all — all ! " she whispered. 
 
 And I told her. She did not start, or utter a 
 word, or shed a tear, but listened to the end in 
 statue-like immoveableness. When I had done, 
 her head sank on my shoulder in an attitude of 
 hopeless sorrow that was terrible to witness. 
 
 I shed tears ; I implored her to speak to me, 
 and to try to look like the Jeannie of old. I used 
 all the eloquence of which I was capable, but to no 
 purpose. Her only answer was — 
 
 " Chatty, I loved him, I loved him ! " 
 
BY THE SEA. 155 
 
 She had tasted no food all day ; at seven the 
 dinner-bell rang; Mrs. Dunstan came np and 
 entreated her with tears in her eyes to go down 
 and partake of it. She consented, and rose np for 
 the purpose ; at first her step tottered, but, I saw 
 that she was straggling hard for composure, and 
 was resolved to conquer. She dressed herself as 
 usual, arranged her hair, and adjusted her robe ; 
 then she put her arm in mine, and went down- 
 stairs. Dinner was gone through as usual, but 
 it was a sad task. Lindsay's place at the head of 
 the table was empty, and a thousand minute 
 occurrences brought vividly to our minds the 
 event of the previous night. I do not think the 
 presence of death in the house would have been 
 more solemn than this weight, and icy restraint. 
 Now and then I looked at Jeannie ; she ate, she 
 drank, and was calm ; yes, she was indeed making 
 an effort. But to me every moment that calmness 
 grew more fearful. 
 
 Once Ross bent down to me, and said, in a low 
 voice — 
 
 " Speak to her. For Heaven's sake break that 
 
156 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 awful spell that seems around her; she looks like 
 a marble image of despair : she cannot live if this 
 goes on." 
 
 I tried to draw her into conversation, but to no 
 purpose; she uttered a monosyllable or two; the 
 tone of her voice made me shudder, it was so 
 unnatural and forced. 
 
 So the day dragged itself out; but when another 
 and another passed, and still she continued the 
 same — tearless, silent, and deathlike — I grew terri- 
 fied. I feared not only for her health, but her 
 reason also. Every night I went to bed saying, 
 "It cannot last long; there will be a change to- 
 morrow ; a crisis must come : " but to-morrow came, 
 and brought no change or hope. She obeyed us 
 in all respects literally; she walked out, she joined 
 us at meals, she went through her ordinary 
 occupations: but as each day passed on she wasted 
 and waned more and more. The long walks by 
 the sea side, in the beautiful spring days, brought 
 no colour to her cheek, or sparkle to her eye; her 
 favourite books dropped on her knees, and her 
 hands closed over them, in an attitude of listless 
 
BY THE SEA. 157 
 
 indifference; she would sit for hours unemployed 
 
 whilst — 
 
 " Evermore her eye 
 Was busy in the distance, shaping things 
 That made her heart beat quick." 
 
 Mrs. Dunstan talked of change, travel, the gaieties 
 
 of the London season, but she deprecated the 
 
 idea of leaving me; still more so the idea of 
 
 pleasure. 
 
 " Dear mamma," she would say, " you are very, 
 very kind, and I know that I am ungrateful ; but 
 I do not wish to go away yet. I will try to be 
 happy with Chatty, indeed I will." 
 
 And though she never said that I was a comfort 
 to her, I saw it, in the wistful look of welcome 
 with which she greeted me after only an hour's 
 absence, and in the way she clung to me always. 
 I saw it and took hope. 
 
158 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 « Going? " 
 
 " Yes, I must go, Chatty ; I can be of no use 
 here, and I have already somewhat neglected my 
 professional duties. I seem to have entirely for- 
 gotten business since the last two weeks." 
 
 He was leaning on the wall, and looking out of 
 the window, in an attitude of dreary meditation. 
 
 '* I am so sorry that you must go," I said. 
 "We shall all miss you; when will you come 
 again?" 
 
 " Never," he answered sorrowfully, (e never 
 more till she is happy again. It breaks my heart 
 to see her thus, and all the while to know how she 
 loved him, w r hilst I " 
 
 He broke off suddenly, and a faint blush over- 
 spread his thoughtful, and refined features. 
 
 " You loved her," I added timidly, "is it not so? 
 
BY THE SEA. 159 
 
 Oil, would to Heaven " But I could not finish 
 
 my sentence, and blushed also. 
 
 "Yes," he continued, in the same mournful 
 tones, " would to Heaven that my love had been 
 returned ! I would have striven to the utmost to 
 render her happy ; and God knows, that no selfish 
 or worldly motive influenced me, when I first 
 hoped to make her my wife. But the hope is taken 
 from me, quite taken from me now, and to think 
 that it was ke whose work it is, he who won her 
 innocent affections only to trample them under foot ; 
 oh, that is the bitterest thought of all ! Had she been 
 beloved worthily, wisely, and tenderly, I could have 
 borne it with patience; my poor, poor Jeannie ! " 
 
 For a minute his voice broke down with emotion ; 
 then he continued : 
 
 (( I loved her so well. Chatty, my dear, kind 
 little friend you have been the only person to read 
 this secret ; tell me, do you not think that despite 
 the roughness and hardness of my outward 
 appearance, I have a heart? do you not think that, 
 despite my seeming coldness of manner, I could 
 have made her happy ? " 
 
160 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " I believe so, most truly." 
 
 " Bless you for saying so. Ah, Chatty, very, 
 very few of my acquaintances would have an- 
 swered me so warmly. I pass off as a sort of 
 Timon amongst most of them. I cannot flatter ; 
 they call me cold and self-contained: I cannot 
 firitter away my time in senseless frivolities, and 
 this they call being unsociable and uncultivated. 
 But no matter : one or two in the world at least 
 respect and esteem me, and I am not entirely 
 useless. Well," he added in an altered tone, " you 
 will not quite forget me, will you ? and you will 
 take care of her?" 
 
 " Oh ! " I exclaimed sadly, " if I could but devise 
 some method of bringing her to a different state 
 of mind ! That terrible, terrible composure is 
 more grievous to see, than the most violent out- 
 bursts of grief. Ross, what shall I do? She 
 wastes every day more and more, and the sorrow 
 seems to sink deeper and deeper into her heart. 
 It cannot go on long like this." 
 
 " I know it; I watch her every hour, and every 
 minute, and see the change that comes " 
 
BY THE SEA. 161 
 
 He stopped suddenly, and his eyes lighted up 
 with a flash of anger : 
 
 " Nothing for vears has affected me so much as 
 this man's falseness and treachery ; such things 
 seem to shake one's faith in humanity. And 
 strange," he continued, musingly; " strange it is, 
 that I should have had so long a sort of doubt 
 and mistrust of him — a presentiment, I might 
 almost call it. Once or twice I observed trifling 
 instances which convinced me of his want of 
 straightforwardness and integrity, and I have 
 had no confidence in him since. Indeed, I have 
 sometimes taxed myself with prejudice and un- 
 charitableness on that account. I will frankly say, 
 however (though nothing could in the least 
 extenuate his conduct), that it would be a difficult 
 task for a stronger and firmer man than he to 
 break off from that woman's influence when he 
 had once submitted to it. There was a kind of 
 fascination in her glittering black eyes that I 
 believe few could escape. It seems almost 
 incredible that he could leave Jeannie's sweet 
 disposition, and quiet loveable nature, for such 
 
 vol. n. M 
 
162 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 a one ! Oh, that Jeannie ever loved him ! But 
 allons let us not speak of them; the very mention 
 of their names makes the blood boil in my veins. 
 Is there nothing we can devise — foreign travel — 
 London society — a long sea voyage?" 
 
 I shook my head hopelessly. 
 
 a She will not leave me." 
 
 " And you are looking pale and careworn also, 
 why could you not accompany her? Return w 7 ith 
 my aunt to Normandy for a few weeks." 
 
 " It has been already proposed, but she seems 
 to deprecate the idea of leaving Ingham." 
 
 "That is the very point to gain. I mean to 
 rouse her faculties from their morbid state; the 
 idea of any action whatever is repugnant to her, 
 but that is the only remedy. I have a sister-in-law r 
 residing in London, a fashionable, wealthy, and 
 really kind-hearted woman — a woman, moreover, 
 whose face and manner are wonderfully attractive. 
 By this irresistible sweetness and suavity, and 
 without possessing any remarkable tone, or strength 
 of character, she obtains a great ascendancy over 
 people's minds, more particularly those of the 
 
BY THE SEA. 163 
 
 young. I do believe that she, before all others, 
 could effect this cure. The circle in which she 
 mixes, and takes the lead, is not of an ordinary 
 kind. I think that Jeannie's mind could not fail 
 to be interested and awakened. She would see 
 such a varied society as she has never seen before — 
 crown ministers, foreign ambassadors, celebrated 
 authors, painters, and musicians ; all the men and 
 women whose works she has read, and whom the 
 world talks of; Persian princes, Parisian beaux, 
 English wits and table-talkers. Now, if she were 
 allowed to sit by in a corner, and idly look on, all 
 this living panorama would avail nothing; but 
 my sister-in-law has an uncommon tact of discover- 
 ing tastes, and bringing out minds. From the 
 nrst day of Jeannie's entering her house, she would 
 bring a constant succession of influence to bear 
 upon her mind which she could not withstand. 
 Oh, I am sure my scheme will answer! I will 
 speak to my aunt at once, and get Cecile to write." 
 " I feel assured it will," I answered, partaking of 
 his enthusiasm, " but there is one thing which if 
 it were to happen might spoil all." 
 
164 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " What is that?" he said, in a voice of surprise. 
 
 " If by any chance she might see " 
 
 " I understand your meaning. Ah ! I never 
 thought of that. But I do not think it is very 
 probable. Most likely they would go abroad ; 
 still it is a chance : but their whereabouts I think 
 I can arrive at. Anyhow I will do my best and 
 with speed. Once get her near Cecile, and she 
 would be saved ; but you — you would come with 
 her ? I think you would like my sister-in-law ; 
 she is a woman of the world, and you are as 
 unworldly as it is possible to be, but she has 
 infinite goodness of heart and some points which 
 render it impossible with all her faults not to 
 love her. You will come ? " 
 
 I hesitated : 
 
 " I should like very much, but I — I am afraid 
 I could not." 
 
 « Why not?" 
 
 " Mr. Stirling was my father's friend, and since 
 he died has taken the place of father towards me. 
 He loves me as if I were his own child, and I 
 think he would miss me." 
 
BY THE SEA. 165 
 
 Ross smiled, an odd humorous smile. 
 
 " Well," lie said, shaking my hand cordially, 
 " you are a good child, and it would be prepos- 
 terous for me to tell you what to do, when you 
 have such a wise little head of your own. But if 
 you can come, do. I should be so pleased to show 
 London to you. Meantime, good-bye." 
 
 The old dark look returned to his brow. 
 
 " If I can ascertain that they are abroad 
 Cecile shall write — if not, God knows only how 
 it will end. Watch over her — love her. 
 Good-bye." 
 
 " But you will come sometimes ? " I said, 
 timidly. 
 
 " I cannot" he whispered, in a voice of anguish. 
 " I can commend her to Heaven, and rack my brain 
 night and day to devise a method of bringing her 
 to happiness, but it fills my heart with hate and 
 bitterness to see her suffer, and to know for 
 whom." 
 
 " I will write to you." 
 
 He wrung my hand again. 
 
166 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " God bless you a thousand times, dear Chatty. 
 Yes, write to me — write to me often." 
 
 " I promise you that I will do so." 
 
 " And if If it can be done safely, Cecile 
 
 shall write. Adieu." 
 
BY THE SEA. 167 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 Mrs. Dunstan belonged to that class of individuals 
 whose whole life is made up of inconsistencies 
 and contradictions. Yet she was not an original. 
 These very inconsistencies and contradictions arose 
 from an idiosyncrasy which is common enough. 
 She had no real ill-nature, yet she had strong 
 antipathies ; and though she had no deep feelings, 
 she allowed herself to lean upon and be governed 
 by those who were stronger willed than herself, 
 till this very dependence and subjection took up 
 the place of affection in her temperament. To say 
 that she loved Angelica would be a gross mis- 
 representation, for it was impossible for any one, 
 however warm-hearted, to love her, in the true 
 sense of the word; but Angelica's faults and 
 caprices ever leaned towards Mrs. Dunstan's 
 
168 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 weakest points. She was vain, extravagant, heart- 
 less, unreasonable, selfish — but at the same time 
 she was handsome, rich, and self-willed. Mrs. 
 Dunstan could pardon all her vanity of wealth and 
 beauty, and all her frivolity and coquetry, because 
 she was vain, and rich, and frivolous, and flirting 
 herself. And she gave way to her captiousness 
 and wild humours, because Angelica had strong 
 passions and an unconquerable will, and it was 
 easier and safer to yield to them. As true it is, 
 that they who are readiest to form a prejudice, are 
 the most unwilling to part with it, so it is true that 
 indolent dispositions are the first to fly from one 
 extreme to the other, and the last to forgive when 
 once they have been wronged. Now, Mrs. Dun- 
 stan during the reign of Angelica might almost 
 have been considered to slight her own child ; not 
 that I think she did not love Jeannie as well as 
 she was capable of loving at all, but Jeannie, quiet, 
 innocent, inoffensive Jeannie, was not so necessary 
 to her as the wild Indian cousin. Jeannie entered 
 into none of her gaieties, flirtations, or extrava- 
 gances, and had a mind far too pure and sensitive 
 
BY THE SEA. 169 
 
 to meet on a level with her own; therefore she 
 had been treated more like a child than a com- 
 panion, and almost with coldness. 
 
 But now came the reaction. Jeannie had never 
 occasioned Mrs. Dunstan an hour's unhappiness or 
 discomfort; Jeannie had always yielded to her 
 wishes and treated her with affectionate respect — 
 and Jeannie had been neglected. Angelica had 
 given back ingratitude for kindness, treachery 
 for openness, perfidy for hospitality; had broken 
 the sanctity of home and robbed Jeannie of happi- 
 ness. Angelica could not be sufficiently hated — 
 Jeannie could not be too well loved. If I ever 
 felt inclined to find fault with Mrs. Dunstan's 
 manner to my darling, I could forgive it all now. 
 Her indignation and fondness knew no bounds. 
 She devised a hundred little plans every day — some 
 futile, but all well meant to divert the poor child's 
 mind from the sorrow which seemed wasting her 
 life away. She gave up her favourite card-parties 
 at Lady Bingham Lloyd's that she might enter- 
 tain a small evening party at home ; she closed the 
 second volume of the newest novel that Jeannie 
 
170 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 might not lose her morning drive; she conceded 
 to her wish in everything, even though the wish 
 was only implied, and however much it interfered 
 with her own. 
 
 A reaction took place in her mind too, with 
 regard to Mr. Stirling. No one had exclaimed 
 against his marriage more than she had ; no 
 one had more vehemently scandalized what she 
 termed his high-flown morality, and no one had 
 been more ready to turn her back upon the poor 
 wife. But now came a change. The difference 
 with regard to the will was quite forgotten. All 
 rancour and all spirit of contest was alike buried ; 
 and one morning she ordered her unpretending 
 pony phaeton, which in Angelica's sovereignty 
 she had never dared to use, drove to his house, 
 and asked him, meekly and simply, to forget all 
 that had passed, and to say that as it was her 
 child's wish, she should be most grateful to him 
 if he would take her to his home till she returned 
 to England. 
 
 Even the Count Civray, the smooth-spoken, 
 flattering, coxcombical Count, was awed into 
 
BY THE SEA. 171 
 
 compassion and manly tenderness by Jeannie's 
 silent sadness. 
 
 It was touching to see how that worldly woman 
 and frivolous empty-headed man, softened and 
 melted to pity, at the sight of her youth and of 
 her sorrow. The Count poured forth no more 
 elegant compliments and sentimentalisms about 
 her loveliness and vivacity, which had formerly 
 sent her flying from his side at the first oppor- 
 tunity. But he now brought out a heap of anec- 
 dotes and witty stories, illustrating them by ludi- 
 crous grimaces and gestures, and good-naturedly 
 caring not how great a fool he made himself, if 
 he could but bring a smile on her lips. And 
 though the stories were doubtless second-hand 
 enough, the illustrations were eminently original, 
 and heavy-hearted indeed must he be who could 
 behold them with gravity. Then, when he took 
 his leave, his greeting was made with so little 
 ostentation, and so much real feeling ! 
 
 " Adieu, adieu, ma fille ! " he would say softly, 
 kissing her brow, " tache bien de te rendre 
 heureuse ; je te confie a Dieu. Ca sera bien." 
 
172 TEE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 And Jeannie never fled from his side now, 
 and welcomed him with a grateful look, which 
 expressed far more than words could have done, 
 how much she appreciated his solicitude and 
 gentleness. 
 
 Again and again, the idea of her accompanying 
 Mrs. Dunstan to Normandy, after the wedding, 
 was recurred to, but alwavs with the same 
 results. 
 
 " Do you know," Mrs. Dunstan said to me one 
 day, after the subject had been brought forward, 
 " I am really of opinion now that the wisest plan 
 will be to let her remain at Ingham quietly, as she 
 so much wishes. I know that the place is dull, 
 but it is very pleasant in summer, and I do think 
 that she ought to follow her own inclinations ; you 
 and Mr. Stirling will do your utmost to make her 
 happy, and no good will come from persuading 
 her into what she seems to dislike. We will think 
 it over, but a plan of some sort ought to be 
 resolved upon, and even if the invitation comes 
 from Park Lane, I hardly think she would go." 
 
 Meantime Ross went, and a week passed. No 
 
BY THE SEA. 173 
 
 letter from Cecile ; no resolution taken ; and 
 Jeannie was growing paler and paler. All the 
 household is sad to see how every day the once 
 buoyant step grows more and more languid, the 
 blue eyes more and more listless, the hand thinner 
 and thinner, and how — 
 
 " Ever she droopeth in her minde, 
 As nipt by an ungentle winde 
 Doth some faire lilye flower." 
 
 She who was so joyous, and trusting and lovely. 
 Oh, Lindsay, Lindsay ! 
 
174 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 At length the long looked - for letter from 
 Cecile came. It was written with admirable 
 cleverness, and much delicacy of feeling, showing 
 moreover the versatility, as well as the ready tact 
 of the writer's mind. I, who knew Jeannie 
 so well, and entered into her inner world of 
 thoughts entirely, could not have sketched and 
 denned the nature of her malady with half so much 
 brevity and completeness. There played over 
 the whole letter, a half-playful, half-sarcastic tone, 
 a tone of lightness and gracefulness combined, 
 which gave me the idea that she was a French- 
 woman, and this hypothesis I afterwards found to 
 be true. None but a Frenchwoman would have 
 followed out with so much skilf ulness and ease, 
 Ross's concise suggestions. " Above all things," 
 
BY THE SEA. 175 
 
 she wrote, " do not urge any course upon her. I 
 think if you will follow my advice that all will end 
 well. Let the marriage take place as originally 
 intended, and the subject of her visit to Normandy 
 be mentioned no more. Meantime, I will quietly 
 write a little note of invitation to her ; the note 
 shall seem to come quite accidentally, you under- 
 stand, with not the slightest recurrence to the 
 affair de cosur ; it shall be written in a kind of 
 egotistical, off-hand manner, with no reference 
 whatever to her feelings, and with a great deal of 
 reference to my own. My youngest niece is just 
 married — I miss her dreadfully — I am quite miser- 
 able — will my kind little cousin be compassionate, 
 and spend a few weeks with me, now when Lon- 
 don is getting so gay ; and when I have no longer 
 heart to be gay also, since I have now no one on 
 whom I can pour out my ill-humour when I am 
 bored, or my enthusiasm when I am pleased? Oh, 
 we will manage it very nicely, and if the poor child 
 is once here — c'est assez. Leave the rest to me. 
 Je sais bien menager ces choses-la. Depend on it, 
 when we are young and romantic there is a sort of 
 
176 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 pleasure to us in giving way to the utmost to our 
 sadness. So dainty sweet is melancholy, and so 
 loth are we to give up ev r en the shattered bits of 
 the idol we have worshipped. One who would 
 persuade us that it is much w r iser and much more 
 pleasant to sleep soundly, and enjoy one's break- 
 fast after it, and to take human kind as w r e find it, 
 laugh at its follies, and get over its indignities and 
 faults as merrily as w r e can — such a one at the 
 time seems to our morbid disposition to speak 
 heartlessly and coldly, but ten to one if we shan't 
 thank him for it after a time. I dare say poor 
 little sad Jeannie w 7 ould at this present moment 
 gladly go into a convent if she could, and give up 
 almost a life's happiness because one fickle and 
 handsome young man has deceived her. But 
 present fashion and we who love her are not kind 
 enough to let her bury herself alive ; and I have no 
 doubt that you and I shall both live to be thanked 
 for it. For the present, let things go on much the 
 same as if nothing had happened. Make a great 
 fuss at the wedding, the more to distract her 
 thoughts ; and try to arrange it, so that there is a 
 
BY THE SEA. 177 
 
 hurry and bustle at the end; she will then be 
 called upon to write letters, order dress-makers, 
 make purchases, &c. ; nothing would be more 
 effectual. But my dear Miss Warne, remember 
 that as so dear a friend of Jeannie's, no heartier 
 welcome will be given to her than to yourself. 
 I have heard so much of you from Ross that I 
 am very anxious to make your acquaintance. I 
 will really take no refusal. 
 
 "Cecile D'Aumaly Dunstan." 
 
 When I had read the letter, I took it straight 
 to Mrs. Dunstan. She had herself heard from 
 Cecile by the same post, and her face wore a 
 smile of pleasure which for some weeks I had 
 never seen there. 
 
 "Is she not good-natured?" she said, as I 
 entered, " and so clever too ! Do you not think 
 she is right, Chatty?" 
 
 " I have not the least doubt of it." 
 
 " And now we must be very cunning," ob- 
 served Mrs. Dunstan, reflectively; "we must 
 not tell her that we have heard from Cecile; 
 
 vol. n. n 
 
178 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 that would spoil all at once ; and we had better 
 begin the preparations at once. I wish I could 
 make up my mind, Chatty, as to whether white 
 satin would be better than anything else?" 
 
 I was thinking of Jeannie, and looked up with 
 a vague expression of surprise. 
 
 " For the wedding dress," Mrs. Dunstan con- 
 tinued, blushing slightly ; " you must really talk 
 these things over with me now, Chatty ; I have 
 no one but you to look to for advice, you know ! " 
 
 " I will do my best," I replied, consolingly, 
 " but I am not much of a connoisseur with regard 
 to such things." 
 
 Mrs. Dunstan sighed. 
 
 " She knew so well," she said, as if to herself, 
 and with something like a regretful voice. 
 
 At that moment Jeannie entered from the 
 garden with noiseless step ; a different expression 
 passed over the mother's face. 
 
 " I wish I could forgive her," she exclaimed, 
 in an under tone, "but when I see my child I 
 feel as if I never, never could." 
 
 Tears filled her eyes, and she left the room. 
 
BY THE SEA. 179 
 
 I fulfilled my promise to Ross, and wrote often. 
 Alas ! my letters were sad ones, but he was very 
 grateful for them. At first he answered me in a 
 curt, business-like way, never alluding to his 
 personal feelings, and expressing both his anxiety 
 and his gratitude in a shy, formal manner, which 
 bore no resemblance to the frank openness with 
 which he had of late treated me. But after the 
 few first times this wore off, and he wrote as he 
 spoke — eloquently, earnestly, and with a deep 
 manly feeling. I have those letters now, and I 
 value them as much as I did then. The paper 
 is somewhat yellow and the ink somewhat pale 
 from the effects of time, but the clear, firm cha- 
 racters stand out with the same distinctness, and 
 the grave, vivid sentences speak to my heart the 
 same fervent and tender story. Noble-hearted, 
 generous Ross ! And not utterly in vain were 
 opened before me the pages of that revelation. 
 
 N 2 
 
180 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 Cectle's advice was acted upon to the very letter. 
 The day for the wedding was fixed, and the ulti- 
 mate arrangements made. Jeannie listened to 
 all with meek acquiescence ; she said nothing, 
 but I could see that it was an infinite relief 
 to her to be taken no notice of, and to be 
 allowed to go on in her own quiet way. But 
 she was taken notice of; anxious eyes followed 
 her most trifling movement, and watched every 
 passing expression of her pale face. We could 
 not persuade ourselves that she began to improve ; 
 but it was something to have Cecile to rely upon, 
 and faith in her gave Mrs. Dunstan an unwonted 
 cheerfulness to begin preparations for the event 
 of her marriage. And now began a series of 
 excitements and unceasing occupations for a 
 greater part of the inhabitants of our quiet, old- 
 
BY THE SEA. 181 
 
 fashioned Ingham. It would be in vain for my 
 poor pen to attempt a description of what was 
 at once so costly, so regal, so gorgeous. I will 
 only say that however bad or good the taste 
 therein displayed might have been, the effect was 
 dazzling, and never before in the recollection of 
 Ingham chroniclers had such a sight been seen 
 before. For forty-eight hours it was one universal 
 gala scene. Bonfires blazed, fireworks glittered, 
 bands played, champagne frothed, children feasted, 
 flags streamed, bells rang. An unaccountable 
 humour came over Mrs. Dunstan, partly of extra- 
 vagance, partly of vanity, partly of charitableness. 
 The rich revelled, but the poor were not forgotten : 
 old men had dinners, and Sunday-school children 
 frocks. Every one in Ingham Helmsley seemed 
 to have part and lot in the " great lady's wedding," 
 as it was termed ; every eye sparkled, every 
 heart was glad but one — Poor Jeannie ! Yet she 
 was calm, and assisted me whenever I required 
 her, with a patience and serenity which I tried 
 to believe augured a happier time to come. I 
 could see that she was making a great effort to 
 
182 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 be cheerful for Mrs. Dunstan's sake, and I loved 
 her all the better as I saw how difficult the task 
 was. 
 
 On the morning previous to the marriage 
 Cecile's invitation came. We were all sitting 
 together, Mrs. Dunstan, Jeannie, and I, and 
 something like a guilty blush mantled my cheek. 
 I bent my head over my letter writing and waited 
 in suspense. Mrs. Dunstan's memorandum-book 
 was laid down on her knees, and she looked up 
 anxiously; Jeannie handed her the letter with 
 an imploring look. 
 
 " Oh, mamma, I cannot go," she exclaimed ; 
 " it is kind of her to write, but I should be 
 much happier here, indeed I should." 
 
 " She is very amiable, and really wants you, 
 poor thing," Mrs. Dunstan urged, hypocritically. 
 a I think she would be very vexed at a refusal ; 
 but do as you like, dear, I wish you to do exactly 
 as you like." 
 
 Jeannie burst into tears, and threw her arms 
 around her mother's neck : 
 
 " Dear mamma, how good and kind you are ! 
 
BY THE SEA. 183 
 
 I will try to be happy; I shall be happy, after 
 a time ; I feel assured I shall with Chatty. But 
 to go there — to be obliged to talk, and laugh, and 
 go out, and be always putting on an appearance 
 of cheerfulness — oh, mamma, I cannot. I will 
 try to forget everything, and to be your little 
 Jeannie again, only let me remain here." 
 
 Mrs. Duns tan was sorely perplexed. 
 
 " But, dear," she continued, hesitatingly, "Chatty 
 is asked too, you know ; that would make it far 
 more pleasant." 
 
 « Forgive me, forgive me, mamma ! I know that 
 I am ungrateful and self-willed, but I promise, 
 oh, mamma, I promise, that if you let me remain 
 here I will do my utmost to be as I used to be, 
 and forget " 
 
 Her voice broke down as she tried to say his 
 name; but though the tears still stood on her 
 cheeks, she was composed outwardly. 
 
 " I will forget all ! I will not cause you grief 
 again ; don't cry, mamma, and when you come 
 back to England you won't know me, I shall be 
 so happy." 
 
184 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 She half-smiled as she said the last words, and 
 kissed Mrs. Dunstan's cheek. It was a seal of 
 the compact ; and that day Cecile was written to. 
 Park-Lane was no more mentioned, and we took 
 hope. The eventful morning dawned brightly 
 and cloudlessly ; and smart carriages full of gay 
 ladies thronged the avenues of Helmsley-End 
 Hall ; and Mrs. Dunstan waxed nervous, and the 
 Count smiled elaborate smiles with his false teeth, 
 and looked a model of Parisian perfection — from 
 his curled moustache to his patent boots ; and 
 young ladies envied Mrs. Dunstan, and middle- 
 aged ladies found fault with her, and all wor- 
 shipped the Count ; and a multitude of witty 
 things, and of things that passed off for being 
 witty, were said at the breakfast-table ; and old 
 gentlemen grew silent over the pasties, and young 
 ones talkative over the champagne ; and every 
 one's voice was hearty as he filled his glass to 
 the toast — 
 
 " Long life and blessings ! Health, wealth, 
 and happiness to the Count and Countess de 
 Perpini !" 
 
BY THE SEA. 185 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 Jeannie and I are standing, hand in hand, on 
 the terrace of our new home. Fair is the April 
 sky above ; very fair the violet-scented earth 
 around. For the first time since we have ever 
 shared one dwelling, we are at peace ; the atmo- 
 sphere of the house even is a holiday to our over- 
 wrought spirits. We ought to be very happy. I 
 looked up at Jeannie, but I had no need to 
 express the thought which arose within me. 
 
 " I am indeed ungrateful," she said softly, her 
 eyes filling. 
 
 " Yes, you are ungrateful. The least you 
 could do to thank a kind Providence for all the 
 blessings he showers upon you would be to 
 enjoy them." 
 
186 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 I gainsaid my hard words by a kiss on her 
 pale cheek. 
 
 " I know that I ought to do so. I know how 
 greatly I sin, but I cannot conquer memory." 
 
 "You could not conquer it all at once, but 
 you can by degrees. Listen, Jeannie dear, I 
 know how painful the subject is to you, but I 
 must speak out this once, and then you shall hear 
 me mention his name no more. If Lindsay 
 Jocelyn had died — died whilst yet he had only 
 proved such as you believed him to be, I 
 should not then have condemned your grief — I 
 should not have wondered at it ; but the case 
 is so different He wronged you, wronged you 
 shamefully, heartlessly, bitterly ; he showed him- 
 self to be alike unworthy of your love or respect, 
 much more unworthy of your regret. " 
 
 She started convulsively, and covered her 
 face with her hands, in an agony of grief, but 
 I had set myself to the task, and did not flinch. 
 
 " Is it not a great injustice to yourself to waste 
 away your youth and health like this ? It is not 
 only an injustice, Jeannie, this is a solemn con- 
 
BY THE SEA. 187 
 
 sideration, but nevertheless a true one, it is a sin ; 
 a sin to Heaven, to those who love you, and to 
 yourself." 
 
 " I know it — I know it ! " she murmured, 
 brokenly. 
 
 " Oh, Jeannie," I exclaimed, with earnestness, 
 i( I believe no one in the world loves you better 
 than myself; hear me, be guided by me — be 
 happy. I know how great a sorrow this is to 
 you — I know well ; but it is a sorrow that others 
 have suffered ; and are there not many sorrows 
 heavier than this to be borne in life? Is not 
 remorse greater? Is not an unloving child a 
 greater? and do you not think that all these 
 afflictions are daily being suffered? and many 
 in patience. Would it not be a miserable world 
 indeed if every trial brought a broken heart? 
 Ah, Jeannie! there is no happier time in an 
 existence than that when we have overcome a 
 sorrow bravely : the sunshine of Heaven seems to 
 fill our hearts ; we feel a gentle pity and love to 
 others, and take up, with real thankfulness, each 
 
188 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 blessing that drops at our feet. And think how 
 brave — how good it is to do this, to lift your 
 eyes to God and say, ' Thy will be done ! ' " 
 
 * I will try — I will indeed try." 
 
 " If you try, you will succeed ; and when a 
 few years have elapsed, and you can look back 
 calmly on what has passed, you will be heartily 
 thankful that you have done so. God bless you, 
 Jeannie, for that resolution ! God ever bless you 
 dear ! " I said with emotion, and embracing her, 
 " You have made me so happy ! " 
 
 For a few moments we were both silent, for our 
 hearts were too full for words. 
 
 And Jeannie did try. From that day I saw how 
 earnest and great was her effort to shake off the 
 shackles which so bound her ; and her daily con- 
 duct was a tacit submission to my words and fulfil- 
 ment of her promise. 
 
 I was very glad to be in my home once more ; 
 oh, very, very glad! and when Mr. Stirling opened 
 his arms wide to receive me, and said how much 
 he had wanted me whilst I was away, and when 
 
BY THE SEA. 189 
 
 little Ned bounded to receive my embrace, and 
 danced for joy, I felt how much I had to be 
 thankful for, and how great had been the goodness 
 which had led me to say always, even from the 
 time when I was a lonely little child in the 
 White House by the Sea — 
 
 (e Thou hast taken much, but thou hast given far 
 more than I deserve ; let my heart ever overflow 
 with love to my fellow-creatures and to Thee!" 
 
 So the spring waned and summer came ; it was 
 a quiet and uniform existence, but saving for one 
 thing I should have been entirely happy. I used 
 to weary in my romantic girlhood of my solitude 
 and seclusion ; I fancied that could I once go out 
 into the Great Beyond, could I once move in great 
 cities and see strange countries and experience 
 new excitements, my blissfulness would be com- 
 plete. I never drew visions of such a lot as was 
 now mine, uneventful, monotonous and quiet ; but 
 I was no longer a day-dreamer. I still felt an 
 interest and curiosity in the wide and varied world 
 of which, save from books, I knew nothing, but I 
 
190 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 also felt that, despite the ardour and enthusiasm 
 of my temperament, I could be content with the 
 goodly heritage God had given me, albeit that 
 heritage was one of entire repose and uni- 
 formity. 
 
 I said that but for one thing I should have been 
 entirely happy. It was so. I could not shut my 
 eyes to a truth of which I had daily evidence. 
 Jeannie had not learned to forget. It was beau- 
 tiful to see her gentle steadfastness in the path I 
 had pointed out to her ; the Delectable Mountains 
 were before her eyes, but a Giant Despair held her 
 heart in bondage. She saw that she had much 
 worth living for; she knew that could she over- 
 come her sadness, she could give infinitesimal joy 
 to those who were most dear to her, and she tried 
 hard. But alas ! no bloom returned to the cheek 
 that had once been so rounded, no sparkle to the 
 eye, no lightness to the step. She moves about 
 like a shadow of her former self, and though she 
 joins us in conversation with apparent cheerfulness 
 I can see that it is only by a great effort. What 
 
BY THE SEA. 191 
 
 could I say to Ross ? What could I say to the 
 Countess? Those letters were the hardest task of 
 the whole week. 
 
 Ross grew terribly anxious ; his quick mind at 
 once took in all the meaning of my suggestions 
 and half-expressed fears. But the literal sense of 
 my words seemed to satisfy Mrs. Dunstan's im- 
 penetrating mind (I can never accustom myself to 
 her real title) — Jeannie walked out — she read — 
 she was cheerful — she wrote to her hopefully, too ; 
 well might the poor Countess believe when she 
 was so anxious to do so. One day, when I was 
 writing to Normandy, Mr. Stirling said gravely — 
 
 " My dear child, I do not like that Mrs. Dunstan 
 should be longer undeceived." 
 
 His serious voice and manner frightened me; 
 I looked up in alarm. 
 
 "I do not think," he continued, in the same 
 tones, " that we can help seeing what must come. 
 Dr. Lambert is of the same opinion." 
 
 My heart seemed bursting, but I did not speak. 
 
 " It is indeed hard to think that one so young 
 should die." 
 
192 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 ({ Oh no ! " I exclaimed with clasped hands 
 and streaming eyes, "oh no, you do not mean 
 that — you cannot — she will not die ! " 
 
 But my companion did not speak, and I felt that 
 it was because he could give no comfort. 
 
BY THE SEA. 193 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 But Jeannie did not die ; the grave was not yet to 
 close over one so young and so beloved ; and with 
 unfeigned gratitude of heart do I record the events 
 of the six months which followed on the date of 
 my last chapter. 
 
 By the mercy of God I fell ill ; I may truly 
 say by the mercy of God, for I believe that my 
 illness was the means of saving Jeannie. The 
 summer was a very hot and dry one ; in the month 
 of August I was attacked by fever, and for many 
 days my life was in danger. Then, as it were, 
 Jeannie was taken out of herself; action called 
 forth dormant faculties; present anxiety and 
 responsibility weighed down the heavy sorrow 
 of her heart till it was felt no more. Night after 
 night she watched by my bedside, and forgot every 
 
 VOL. II. o 
 
194 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 care for herself so that she could but wait on me ; 
 and it was this very losing sight of her indi- 
 viduality that worked the cure. She might pass 
 nights without sleep, and days in unceasing 
 activity and wearying services — such nights and 
 such days as she had never spent in her life before ; 
 but only the more effectually did this anxious 
 watchfulness and wakefulness serve to drive away 
 the shadow which hitherto had stood between her 
 and all the panorama of life that was passing 
 round. 
 
 Nothing could equal her fond tenderness and 
 unselfish care for others. Mr. Stirling's comforts 
 and little Ned and his sister were not forgotten ; 
 all that I had been in the house since poor Ellen's 
 death, now she tried to be. My wishes even were 
 anticipated before I had to express them; and 
 feeling as she did how necessary she was to me, 
 and in fact to all, she went through the day's 
 duties with an air of cheerfulness that from first 
 being assumed became habitual. Nor when I at 
 length gradually began to recover, did her devo- 
 tion and self-abnegation in the least slacken. 
 
BY THE SEA. 195 
 
 Release from over anxiety, and weariness from an 
 actively employed day, procured her tranquil sleep, 
 and freshened her for the next morning's occupa- 
 tions. She was content to read to me from my 
 favourite authors for hours ; and when I grew tired 
 of listening, would seat herself by my side and 
 gently place her hand in mine, as if to tell me how 
 she loved me. Those days of convalescence were 
 very happy ones. It was pleasant after so many 
 weeks' burning fever to be able to sit by the 
 window and look down into the dark shades of the 
 shrubberies, and watch little Ned at play amongst 
 the green leaves. Then to rest half in sleep, half 
 in wakefulness, and hear the child's merry voice 
 mingle with the sound of the winds and my 
 dreams ; and it was pleasant to dream peacefully 
 and quietly, after the fearful nightmares of the 
 fever, and pleasanter still to wake and find 
 Jeannie's eyes looking up to mine with a serene 
 light, and Mr. Stirling smiling kindly and joy- 
 fully to see me recover. 
 
 The first time that I was able to hold my pen I 
 wrote to Ross, and oh with what thankfulness 
 
 o 2 
 
196 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 and o'ladness of heart I could write to him 
 now ! 
 
 I also wrote to the Countess, but a line or two 
 only ; there was no occasion for more ; and 
 Jeannie's long, affectionate letters were now 
 continued. That same morning little Ned was 
 brought to me; and I was allowed to have 
 the window opened, and feel the fresh air once 
 more. 
 
 The child clung to me, and cried for joy. 
 
 " Oh Tatty, darlin' darlin' Tatty, me so glad ; 
 me thought you were gone to mamma, and would 
 never come again." 
 
 My tears wetted the rosy little face pressed 
 to mine. 
 
 " And you didn't like to think so then ; you 
 are pleased to see me ?" 
 
 " Yes — yes ; and you mustn't go away, ever 
 ever ! " he exclaimed energetically. 
 
 At this moment Mr. Stirling entered ; he heard 
 the last words, and coining up to me, said in 
 a low voice — 
 
 "No, you must not. Chatty, I cannot tell 
 
BY THE SEA. 197 
 
 you how lonely I felt, when I feared that my 
 little girl might be taken from me." 
 
 He stooped, and pressed a kiss on my brow, 
 and added softly — 
 
 " Nor how I thank God for her recovery. 
 Chatty, you have become necessary to me : you 
 must never, never leave me now." 
 
 There was a strange tenderness in his voice, 
 and an emotion in his manner, that startled me ; 
 I tried to answer in my accustomed tone, but 
 the words trembled on my lips. 
 
 " You do not understand me, my child. Chatty, 
 listen. I have been a solitary man for years — 
 for many, many years ; I have been loved, loved 
 fondly, but by one who could not fill up that 
 blank in my existence which only a spiritualized 
 friendship and free interchange of thought could 
 have done; you know this already, and you 
 also know that I have not only been solitary at 
 home but always; I have had no friends, an 
 no society. For this I have had nothing to blame 
 but my own heart: I sinned, and in my very 
 endeavour to atone for my fault, I incurred the 
 
198 THE "WHITE HOUSE 
 
 contempt of others. A fatal circle was drawn 
 around me, and I was entirely divided from 
 society: this did not hurt my feelings, it only 
 roused my scorn, and it drove me more into 
 the world of my own home and inner resources ; 
 but in both these I have been in a great measure 
 alone." 
 
 He drew his arm around me and continued — 
 " At last I am alone no longer. I have found 
 what I have needed so much, and God has sent 
 to me that for which I might have sought over 
 the whole world in vain — a mind alike pure 
 and strong — a heart that is worth all the gold 
 that was found in the New World — one on whom 
 I can lean, but who will also look up to me in 
 all things — one whom my deep love shall render 
 happy, and one to whom my love shall not be 
 given in vain." 
 
 Tears of grateful joy and tenderness ran down 
 my cheeks, and I could not speak ; but I kissed 
 the hand which held my own, and the action 
 was understood. Then he drew me to his breast, 
 and said in a voice which shook with emotion — 
 
BY THE SEA. 199 
 
 " And henceforth what has hitherto been 
 rendered to God as Duty, shall be rendered 
 in Joy only ; and whatever comes of sorrow, will 
 be borne in gratitude, since you will be at my 
 side to share all." 
 
 I tasted a fresh happiness in this feeling of love 
 and fellowship. Oh, how blessed to go through 
 life with his strong and pure love shielding me 
 as a consecrated banner from all evil ! How 
 delightful to sit, weak and faint as I was, sup- 
 ported by his strong arm, and resting my head 
 on his loyal bosom ! Ah, I had need to be thank- 
 ful to God. And then to feel that I was enabled 
 to minister to his happiness, ay, to feel that I 
 was necessary to it ; for had he not said so, and 
 was not his word to be credited as the Bible ? 
 
 Those golden, golden autumn days ! They are 
 pencilled on my heart in a thousand glowing 
 colours ; for inner peace and happiness lent a glory 
 to each thing, and I moved on like a saint in the 
 old pictures, with my feet on earth but my head 
 
200 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 touched by the light of Heaven, Hours and 
 hours were spent in listening to Mr. Stirling's 
 voice as he read from some of the grand old 
 authors, or as he spoke to me from the depth 
 and richness of his heart and intellect. And 
 what a speaking that was ! I had not known 
 till now but half of the gold which lay in that 
 deep mine; now it was brought up and poured 
 luxuriously into my thirsty eager mind. But 
 sweeter than all to my ears — sweeter even than 
 his exalted words of goodness and wisdom — it was 
 to me to hear him ever and ever call on my 
 name, and ever with an increasing fondness and 
 gratitude. 
 
 One day Jeannie came into my room with a 
 bright sparkle lighting up her eyes ; she took 
 her old favourite seat by my side, and laid her 
 head on my knees. 
 
 " Chatty," she said, with an effort, " I have 
 come to tell you something ; I have come to 
 say how grateful I am to you for " 
 
BY THE SEA. 201 
 
 " For being ill," I added, playfully. 
 
 " No," she continued, gravely, " I mean for 
 all the good you have effected for me; do you 
 remember the conversation we had the day after 
 mamma's wedding ? It was on the terrace below, 
 and the violets and daffodils were out — you must 
 remember, Chatty ? " 
 
 " I do, dear ; I remember it quite well." 
 
 " And you told me how foolish and wicked it 
 was for me to be so unhappy, and give way to 
 recollections of Mm;" here her voice quivered, 
 and her cheek flushed faintly, (i and it was all 
 your doing that I ever tried to be happy — all, 
 all," she added, with great earnestness, " and I 
 want to thank you." 
 
 " But," I said, smiling, " I don't think that 
 you are indebted to me so much as you suppose. 
 Tell me, dear Jeannie, were you happy before 
 my illness ? You hesitate : I am sure you were 
 not. Now listen: when I was ill you had no 
 leisure to think over your trouble; your hands 
 and mind were occupied from morning to night ; 
 a good many nights you had no sleep at all (I 
 
202 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 know how much I am indebted to you, so it is 
 useless for you to shake your head), and when 
 you did go to rest, your faculties and frame were 
 so overwrought that you slept soundly, and woke 
 up invigorated. Your whole thoughts were filled 
 up by your care for me, and do not you see that 
 I said rightly — the fever has to be thanked for 
 all " 
 
 Jeannie looked up with a puzzled face. I 
 encircled her in my arms. 
 
 " Let us not thank the means, but the cause," 
 I added, solemnly. " God has been very merciful, 
 Jeannie, thank Him — Him above all ; and not 
 in joy alone, but also in sorrow, since both are 
 sent in Infinite Wisdom, and in Infinite Love." 
 
 I think we owed the first idea to Mr. Long- 
 fellow, or to Thomas Hood ; for at any rate I 
 do not remember anything that called it forth, 
 unless it were the Hyperion, or " Up the Rhine," 
 which Jeannie read to us on the sea-shore. It 
 was the lovely season of autumn, and the hazy 
 
BY THE SEA. 203 
 
 stillness of the calm sea, and of the scene around, 
 seemed to have fallen over our spirits ; at length 
 Jeannie suddenly exclaimed — 
 
 " Oh, I should so like to see the Rhine ! " and 
 closed her book with a half sigh. 
 
 " I think it would be a splendid idea " 
 
 Mr. Stirling seemed to be talking to himself, 
 and Jeannie and I looked up in surprise. 
 
 " Chatty is somewhat pale yet," he continued, 
 smiling at our perplexity, "and Jeannie would 
 be freshened up ; yes, it 's a settled thing. Little 
 one, get all things ready, and next week we start 
 for the Rhine." 
 
 Jeannie clapped her hands in ecstacy, and my 
 cheek glowed with pleasure. 
 
 " You both like the proposition ? " 
 
 a Oh yes, oh yes," we echoed in reply. 
 
 " And so do I. Then we will go. And Chatty 
 will see London, and I shall see my old college 
 friends, and Jeannie will see Stolzenfels and the 
 Liebenstein, and { peasant girls with deep blue 
 eyes,' and we shall all be pleased, and like our 
 little quiet Ingham better than ever on our return." 
 
204 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 So we went; and the clouds having rolled off 
 our horizon, we were all ready to enjoy what 
 was novel and striking with hearts of child- 
 like eagerness and gratification. But the Rhine 
 having become so familiar to every one I will only 
 say with regard to it, and what I have never 
 heard said before, that I was in nowise disap- 
 pointed in the expectations I had conceived of 
 the " exulting and abounding river," neither on 
 the contrary will I seek to deny that I did not 
 find my anticipations more than realized. 
 
 At the end of November we returned to Ing- 
 ham-Helmsley, and then things went on in their 
 smooth and customary course. Every day Jeannie 
 regained healthfulness and spirits ; she never men- 
 tioned the name of him who had so cruelly 
 wronged her, and neither did that of Angelica 
 ever escape her lips. A stone and a seal are set 
 over the tomb of buried love and buried despair, 
 and she goes on in her daily life with a calm 
 happiness. 
 
 But she is not the same Jeannie as of old; 
 this sorrow and suffering has wrought a change 
 
BY THE SEA. 205 
 
 in her, but such a change as those who love her 
 cannot see with regret. They may think perhaps 
 with a pang of all that has passed, to take away 
 the youthful buoyancy and trusting joyousness 
 of her nature, but they must also think, with a 
 grave gladness, of how much more is gained than 
 is lost ; how much more beautiful is the depth 
 and earnestness which grief has imparted to her 
 character, than the vivacity and brightness 
 which it has taken away. 
 
 She was a child then, she is a woman now — a 
 thinking, tender, patient woman. If we once 
 loved her truly, now w T e love her even better, 
 and worthier ; for we look on her as a friend, and 
 as such a friend of whom we have not many. 
 
 Snowdrops and aconites are again springing 
 forth. Little Ned has gathered a bunch and 
 placed in my vase, for he knows that I expect 
 a visitor ; a bright fire burns in my little sitting 
 room, and a chair is placed in readiness bv it ; 
 
206 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 I have been teaching Ned his letters, but some- 
 how my thoughts wander from the page to the 
 window ever and anon; Jeannie looks expectant 
 also, and has risen frequently to look out ; at 
 length the sound of wheels is heard. A slight 
 blush passes over Jeannie's features as she turns 
 to me and says — 
 
 " He is come !" 
 
 She draws back to her seat. I descend to meet 
 my visitor. 
 
 " Dear Ross, you are welcome, most welcome ! 
 We have been looking for you." 
 
 And Ross, for he it is, shakes me warmly by 
 the hand, his eye kindling at my hearty words. 
 He is almost unchanged since last we saw him, 
 only there is an expression of repose in the dark 
 quick eyes which is foreign, and though the in- 
 tellectual brow is pale, over which the black hair 
 hangs so luxuriantly, the paleness is not as pain- 
 ful as it formerly was. It looks less like the 
 paleness of an habitually excited, restless mind, 
 than the indication of a thoughtful and grave 
 temperament. 
 
BY THE SEA. 207 
 
 After taking off his wrappers, lie follows me 
 up-stairs. 
 
 "She is changed?" he said hesitatingly, as we 
 reached the door. 
 
 "You shall judge for yourself. I promised 
 you that I would not ask you to come till the 
 visit would awaken no old animosities ; you shall 
 see how I have kept it." 
 
 "And she never knew; you never told her 
 of " 
 
 "Your love? Oh no. She may be nervous 
 at first meeting you, for your presence must recall 
 many unhappy things, but that is all. I believe she 
 will be pleased to see you after that is over. Enter." 
 
 We go in. Jeannie rises to greet him with 
 a quiet womanly grace, and though her colour 
 heightens at first, she is perfectly composed. The 
 evening passes pleasantly and without constraint. 
 Little Ned sits quite silent on my knees, awed 
 into an unusual quietness by Ross's impressive 
 and eloquent speaking. And he is wonderfully 
 eloquent to-night. A great parliamentary ques- 
 tion at this period agitated the nation — a question 
 
208 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 involving much English honour, and affecting the 
 opinions of every class and every individual. On 
 the side of true uprightness and patriotism stood 
 Ross, and his eye glowed with an energy and 
 enthusiasm of truth, and his words burned and 
 sparkled with the soul of a true English gentle- 
 man, as he spoke. Every now and then I saw 
 him gaze earnestly at Jeannie. She sat in a 
 shaded corner, bending over her work, and appa- 
 rently an uninterested listener ; but at times I 
 saw her eyes were raised from her employment 
 and followed Ross with an unwonted brightness, 
 and once, when he was most eloquent, they were 
 filled with tears ; the light fell partially over her 
 fair face, but enough to demonstrate the sweetness 
 and earnestness which characterized it. When 
 the evening was nearly over, I touched Ross's 
 arm lightly and whispered — 
 
 " You confess that she is changed?" 
 
 " Oh yes. Greatly." 
 
 "And the change?" 
 
 " Has left nothing to desire. The marble is 
 finished to a perfect statue." 
 
BY THE SEA. 209 
 
 His eyes rested on her softly and reflectively. 
 
 " She is worthy of yon," I said in a low voice, 
 and looked up into his face. 
 
 It was turned away. 
 
 " Perhaps you have changed also ? " 
 
 " Do you think I am one to change often ? " 
 he asked, with his old sarcastic smile. 
 
 " Pardon me. I only jested. No, you will 
 be very happy." 
 
 " My dear, kind friend, bless you for saying so. 
 But " 
 
 '* But what? you put me out of patience." 
 
 " Perhaps she will never love me." 
 
 " There — there again ; I have a good mind 
 to banish you from the house at once. One 
 thing, do you not believe a woman more capable 
 to read another's heart than one of the other sex ? " 
 
 " Why, I think so." 
 
 " And I am sure of it. I do not believe Jeannie 
 could help loving you. What do you say to that, 
 sir?" 
 
 " You are the kindest, and wisest, and dearest 
 little woman in the world!" 
 
 VOL. II. P 
 
210 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 " I thought so," I answered, smiling saucily ; 
 " and I believe you are the most misanthropical and 
 cvnical Timon that a woman ever scolded. Well, 
 allons : it is all settled and now everything is to 
 go on smoothly." 
 
 " Why so happy, my darling ? you are quite 
 radiant. Has Mrs. Burroughs abjured the black 
 bottle, or have you beaten Dr. Lambert in an 
 argument ? " 
 
 "No, but I am very happy, and with cause. 
 Come and see." 
 
 So saying, I drew him to the window and 
 pointed out significantly. There were two figures 
 on the smooth, green lawn; one manly and 
 strong, and bending over the other, which was 
 slender and graceful. The man was talking 
 earnestly, and the girl was listening with a down- 
 cast but happy face. 
 
 " Well, and what of that?" 
 
 "My dear, stupid husband, does that suggest 
 nothing ? " 
 
BY THE SEA. 211 
 
 I looked up archly in his face, and he stooped 
 down and kissed me lovingly. 
 
 " Why, I think it does suggest something after 
 all," said the hypocritical dissembler, smiling. 
 " Why, I think it does suggest something after 
 all." 
 
 And one day — one laughing, sparkling June 
 day — we stood on the terrace together, my husband 
 and I, and both felt that for a time somewhat from 
 the brightness of home had been taken away. We 
 were very sad that day, and yet our sadness was 
 mixed with deep joy. At length Ross's brave, 
 constant heart had received its fitting reward ; at 
 length a gentle nature had found its proper resting 
 place. God's blessing fall on both ! And then 
 the usual routine of our quiet life went on again ; 
 quiet but with a quiet that varied, even as the sea 
 around us, which is the same always, but reflects 
 myriads of shadows ; and though some of these may 
 be of humble fishing boats, and children's forms, 
 yet at times it is moved to awful o-randeur and 
 magnificence. 
 
 P 2 
 
212 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Little Ned and his sister grow daily in grace 
 and stature ; Mr. Bean often loses himself in grand 
 philosophical speculations at our fireside ; Dr. 
 Lambert and I have many a long dialogue upon 
 human nature and sociology in general; the 
 Countess Perpini is gay, and rich, and happy; 
 old Mr. Binnie may still be seen in the streets of 
 Ingham wending his way to the Library which 
 was the Paradise of my childhood — patience, oh, 
 kind reader, for one more fytte of this story of 
 my life ; and then, farewell ! 
 
BY THE SEA. 213 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 ° After long years." — Byron, 
 
 The White House by the Sea is no longer 
 haunted by living form, or human voice. The 
 shutters are closed ; the little garden choked with 
 weeds, and the wooden palings broken down with 
 age and neglect. Since my father died, no one 
 ventured to brave the sharp winds, and barren 
 isolated situation, and the sea-gulls are free to 
 screech over its chimneys at will : over the garden 
 path, where his step trod heavily, and his eye 
 wandered in later times watching for his friend, 
 now the brown grass grows, and around all there 
 was an air of loneliness and ruin, an air as of — 
 
 " A dwelling-place, and yet no habitation ; 
 A house, but under some prodigious ban 
 Of excommunication." 
 
214 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 And this sense of home where home was no more ; 
 of a story told, and of a scroll folded by the hands 
 of Time weighed upon the spirit with a heavy 
 sadness. 
 
 Sitting on a stone bench, among the scenes 
 where I dreamed the sweet dream of my youth, 
 I recited to two earnest listeners, the story of my 
 childhood ; and the boy nestled closer to me, 
 and little Ellen's large blue eyes filled with tears 
 as I proceeded. 
 
 It was a changeful, capricious day in autumn ; 
 just such a day as that on which this history 
 begins. The sky is alternately overcast and glow- 
 ing ; the waves moan, with a restive suspicious 
 sound, and ever and anon the wind rises forbod- 
 ingly. Only one boat is seen, and the fishing- 
 smacks lie idly on the beach. Strangely and 
 strongly, recalled by the associations of time and 
 place, my memory pictured a day's occurrence 
 of " many and many a year ago," but wmich had 
 never been wholly forgotten. From the circum- 
 stance of that day had arisen I knew not how, 
 much of succeeding happiness and succeeding 
 
BY THE SEA. 215 
 
 sorrow, and eacli had taught me their grave 
 lesson : the blissfulness and the grief were alike 
 faded now, but the lesson remained. And then 
 came back a host of long hushed recollections, and 
 as my little companions prattled gaily on, in the 
 walk home, I fell into a reverie. 
 
 " It is very fine, and the sun isn't down yet. 
 Just one little hide-and-seek, mamma dear, before 
 we go in ? " 
 
 " Do, do, mamma darling ! and I promise not 
 to catch cold — I won't, I won't!" echoed little 
 Nelly, pleadingly. " And papa will hide — won't 
 papa ?" added Nelly making a violent attack upon 
 papa's coat, as he came to meet us. 
 
 " And mamma will help to find ! " continued 
 Ned. 
 
 " No, mamma is tired ; but off with you, 
 and don't quite tear papa to pieces. A kiss ? 
 well, one then — there's a good child. Good- 
 bye." 
 
 They bounded off, and I entered the house. A 
 golden flood of sunset filled my little room ; and 
 taking off my bonnet and shawl, I paused to look 
 
216 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 upon the effulgent reflections upon the sea in the 
 distance. 
 
 As I did so I felt a hand laid on my arm, and 
 starting violently I looked round. 
 
 A tall, dark figure stands before me ; a figure 
 that seemed like a shadow from a buried world, a 
 figure that recalls mixed feelings of contempt, 
 and disgust, and pity. Yet no, it cannot be. I 
 am dreaming, dreaming only. 
 
 The man that I remember was vigorous, and 
 young, and handsome, in the prime of early man- 
 hood, and in the strength and robustness of health, 
 and hopefulness. The man that I see before me 
 is of tall stature, but of a stature from whence the 
 gracefulness and ease is gone ; he stoops in his 
 carriage, and his cheek is pale and sunken : the 
 bright locks which waved with so much beauty 
 over the white forehead are now long and ne- 
 glected; and the handsome lip is shaded with a 
 dark and careless moustache. 
 
 Yet I do not dream. In spite of the work of 
 time and change, in spite of the wreck which I see, 
 and of the glorious form which I remember ; in 
 
BY THE SEA. 217 
 
 spite of the hollow cheeks, and loose slovenliness 
 of the habiliments, I cannot be mistaken. Invo- 
 luntarily my lips move, and I utter a familiar but 
 long unspoken name. 
 
 " Lindsay, Lindsay Jocelyn ! " 
 
 I shudder as the words escape me, and draw 
 back. 
 
 ** Chatty," said the voice whose sweetness had 
 been the music of my youth, "Chatty, stay; I 
 entreat you, stay, and listen for one moment. 
 You loathe me, you hate my presence ? Ah, you 
 have cause to do so, but in pity speak to me." 
 
 The voice was broken with emotion, and I 
 relented. 
 
 " You have been forgiven long since," I said, 
 calmly but coldly, " why have you come here ? 
 All, all the wrong you inflicted, and the sorrow 
 you occasioned, is alike a thing past and forgiven. 
 Let it be forgotten also." I would have gone, but 
 he clasped his hands in an act of supplication, and 
 exclaimed — 
 
 " Oh, do not go, do not send me away thus ! 
 Chatty, hear me. For Heaven's sake — for the 
 
218 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 sake of the promise you once made me, hear 
 me ! " 
 
 I retraced my steps, and stood before him. 
 Then, retreating a few paces, he folded his arms 
 and said humbly — 
 
 " Chatty, hear me ! Had I listened to you years 
 ago, when you bravely and generously stood 
 between me and my evil passions, I should have 
 now been an innocent and a happy man. But 
 I did not; and for the fair portion of God's 
 giving which I threw away, I have sowed in 
 sin, and reaped in sorrow illimitable. You 
 wonder w r hy I am come here to disturb your 
 peace by recalling that which is better to be 
 entirely forgotten; but, Chatty, hear me. You 
 promised me that you would be a friend always ; 
 and unworthy, treacherous, cowardly as I have 
 been, I still ask you to keep your promise. 
 By my belief in the existence of an all-wise God, 
 by all that I hold sacred in this world, by my 
 assurance of a future state after death, I solemnly 
 swear to you that I repent ! " 
 
 His head drooped in an attitude of contrition 
 
BY THE SEA. 219 
 
 and humility on his breast, and his voice shook 
 with emotion. 
 
 " I repent of all the evil that I have done ; not 
 only have I repented in the solitude of my heart, 
 but also at the foot of God. I have knelt in 
 sadness, and loneliness, and in tears, like a little 
 child, and prayed for pardon and for strength." 
 
 I was softened now, and touching his arm, said 
 gently— 
 
 "It will be given yon, and you may yet be 
 honoured and happy." 
 
 " Oh," he continued, " I have come many, many 
 miles to tell you this, and to hear you call me 
 friend once more. Heaven bless you ! and if in 
 the future there are any peaceful days for me, to 
 you I shall owe them all; it was the remem- 
 brance of your generous friendship which first 
 led me to despise myself, and then to long 
 for better things. My heart returned to you, 
 as if to a sister, and I said to myself, — If no one 
 else in England will welcome the return of a 
 sinful but penitent man she will ! Chatty, do not 
 let me be deceived ; if I have sinned it was not 
 
220 THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 without a great temptation, and my sin has been 
 followed with its punishment." 
 
 I held out both hands to him, but could not 
 speak for the tears which rushed to my eyes. 
 He did not retreat now, and stood erect before 
 me. 
 
 " You told me once that our Fate is in our 
 own hands, and now I thank you for your words 
 and believe them. You have done me incalcu- 
 lable benefit, and I can only invoke the blessings 
 of Heaven to fall upon you. Dear, dear friend, 
 farewell ! " 
 
 He leaned forward, and pressed his lips upon 
 my brow. 
 
 " And your future ? " I asked, as he turned to 
 
 " For me ? I have come back to find myself a 
 stranger among those who knew me; and in my 
 calling, they that I left boys have become men, 
 and are far, far before me. I cannot put my hand 
 again to the plough from which I looked back. 
 No ! England's children are now called to arms, in 
 defence of her rights, and in that cause I may yet 
 
BY THE SEA. 221 
 
 win honour." He paused, and then added, " I go 
 to the East. If I live, I may still prove worthy 
 of your friendship ; if I fall, I shall at least die 
 gloriously. Teach your innocent little children to 
 pray for me. Farewell, farewell ! " 
 
 His step died away in the distance. From 
 the open window came the sound of joyous voices 
 among the shrubheries, around me were a thou- 
 sand signs of the love and happiness of home. 
 Tears of thankfulness streamed down my cheeks, 
 and I thanked God that I had not been utterly 
 useless to those I loved. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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