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 a I E) R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 UN IVERSITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 L993 
 
 v.l
 
 LYNTON ABBOTT'S CHILDREN 
 
 Jl fio\}tl 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 SAMUEL TINSLEY & CO., 
 
 [O, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND. 
 
 1879.
 
 %Z3 
 
 LYNTON ABBOTT'S CHILDREN. 
 
 i 
 
 :»>«<£ 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ^ My earliest years were spent in a quiet and 
 
 T tappy home in Devonshire. Never a day 
 
 passes but I think tenderly of the old place. 
 
 My heart clings around the ivied walls and 
 
 ithe picturesque turrets, with then- surround- 
 
 '^ings of abrupt hills, of green meadows, and 
 
 "^of patches of dark woodland, which make up 
 
 ''•Hhe ancestral dwelling-place of my name, 
 
 othe home of my early days and of my 
 
 cryoung womanhood, and at this day the 
 
 '^domain of my kin. I never have seen, and 
 
 ^ 
 
 >I never shall see, a place which will attach 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 2 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 my affections as they are held by Abbey 
 Castle. 
 
 My father and mother had held rule over 
 the Castle, with its broad lands, and the 
 dependent village of Apsland (probably a 
 corruption of Abbotsland) for fifteen years 
 before I was born. Six brothers had pre- 
 ceded me in entrance into the world ; and 
 very happy, no doubt, was the Squire's 
 lady when, at last, a daughter was laid in 
 her arms. 
 
 My father, however, was somewhat dis- 
 j^leased by the intelligence that his seventh 
 child was a girl. He, himself, was the 
 eldest of ten sisterless brothers ; and singu- 
 larly enough, his father also had been blessed 
 Avith a large family of sons without any in- 
 termingling of daughters. My father had 
 thus been led to expect that he also should 
 have ten sons to carry on his name in the 
 world. So fixed was this expectation in his
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 3 
 
 mind, that, soon after the birth of his first 
 son, he drew out a hst of his intended 
 children's naroes, and the profession which 
 each should follow. Those names and pro- 
 fessions were all masculine. 
 
 The eldest was, of course, named Lynton,, 
 after the master himself, and was destined 
 to succeed him in the estate. The second 
 he would name James, after his eldest 
 brother ; and the destiny of this boy was the 
 army. The third, to be called Marshall, 
 was to adorn the Church, following in the 
 steps of our uncle, Dean Marshall Abbott. 
 The fourth, Everard, was designed for the 
 diplomatic service; the fifth, Wilham, for 
 medicine ; the sixth, George, being so much 
 younger than James as not to interfere with 
 his elder brother, was also to enter the army. 
 
 Then came the seventh on my father's 
 list, thus : 
 
 ' Henry Abbott ; to be allowed the choice, 
 
 1—2
 
 4 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 at the age of eighteen, between the Church 
 and physic' 
 
 The first six children had carried out this 
 programme in that they were all boys, and 
 were named after their uncles and great- 
 uncles according to the ancestral list. So 
 my father was, doubtless, quite unprepared 
 for the truth when my old nurse entered 
 the library one fine spring morning, bearing 
 upon her arm his seventh child. 
 
 ' Ah !' said my father, taking the new 
 scion of the root tenderly into his arms. 
 ' So here is my little Henry — Mow — ow 
 — 00,' and the other indescribable noises 
 which people are in the habit of making 
 over babies were duly enunciated. 
 
 ' I beg pardon, sir,' said nurse, as soon as 
 she could make herself heard ; 'it's not a boy, 
 sir ; it's a girl.' 
 
 Nurse (w^ho was an aged woman living in 
 a cottage in the village on a pension when
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 5 
 
 I grew up) has often related to me the 
 haste with which my amazed sire returned 
 me to her arms. Indeed, if she spoke truly, 
 I was barely saved from a tragical end 
 similar to that of the renowned ' Humpty 
 Dumpty.' 
 
 My father was not wont to make a dis- 
 play of his emotions ; and after this first 
 involuntary exhibition of disappointment, he 
 rarely showed his regret. But that he felt 
 it was rendered visible by two or three 
 circumstances. He had personally super- 
 intended the arrangements for the public 
 baptism of all my brothers, which ceremony 
 was performed as each arrived at the age of 
 two months. My mother waited patiently 
 for the expression of his wishes in this case. 
 But when two full months had elapsed, and 
 her husband had made no sign of remem- 
 bering that his youngest child had no name, 
 she ventured to broach the subject.
 
 6 Lynton Abbott's CJuldrcn. 
 
 ' When shall baby be christened, Lynton V 
 she asked one evening. 
 
 ' Just when you choose/ replied my father, 
 with a ^ No-business-of-mine ' air. 
 
 ' Shall it be next Thursday V enquired 
 my mother, presently. 
 
 ' I tell you once more, my dear,' an- 
 swered the master testily, * that you may 
 decide for yourself Find the necessary 
 people, and trouble me no more about it. 
 Of course, I will be there, if you will let 
 me know when it is to be.' 
 
 But fifteen years' study of her husband's 
 character had made my mother cautious to 
 do nothing without his assent. So by-and- 
 by she ventured again. 
 
 ' I was thinking of calling baby " Mar- 
 garet," after her aunt, Lynton.' 
 
 ^ The child's name,' said my father, em- 
 phatically, ' has been fixed for years. It 
 shall be called Henry, as Avas the seventh
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children, 7 
 
 child of my father, and of his father before 
 him.' 
 
 ' Thus saying, he rose and left the room, 
 to avoid remonstrance, leaving my mother 
 aghast. However, that gentle lady seems 
 never to have wilfully disputed against the 
 strong will of her taciturn, proud, auto- 
 cratic husband ; and so the baby was 
 christened in the name he ordered, made 
 feminine at the font by the addition of 
 ' etta.' From thenceforward I rejoiced in the 
 possession of two names, to either of which 
 I answered as readily as to the other. By 
 my mother and by the servants I was spoken 
 of as Miss Hetty. My father and brothers 
 invariably called me Harry. 
 
 A little over one year after this the last 
 of my brothers was born. His name and 
 career were fixed, of course. He was to be 
 called Charles, and when a man was destined 
 to become a barrister.
 
 8 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 There yet remained place and name for 
 two sons ; but they never came. Soon, very 
 soon, after my father had welcomed his 
 eighth child, he was called upon to bid a last 
 adieu to his beloved wife. 
 
 ' Be careful of my little Hetty, Lynton 
 dear,' were among my mother's last words, 
 as I have often been told. ^ She will 
 grow up to be a comfort in your life one 
 day.' 
 
 Then clasping her babies to her breast, 
 and casting a last look of love upon all her 
 children who wept around, the gentle lady 
 fell asleep. 
 
 'So I was deprived of my mother's care 
 before I was old enough to know my own 
 loss. From all that I have heard of her it 
 was indeed a deprivation. She seems to 
 have been singularly sweet and gentle in 
 temperament, and to have had a wonder- 
 fully softening and brightening influence
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 9 
 
 upon my father's stern and somewhat 
 gloomy nature. How great her influence 
 must have been was shown by the change 
 in my father's habits upon her death. He,. 
 who until then had been notably hospitable, 
 withdrew himself almost entirely from 
 society. He never visited his relatives, 
 nor invited them to visit him. To go 
 about the house she had adorned ; to care,, 
 after his own peculiar fashion, for the 
 children she had left him; and to have na 
 sort of gay distraction from constantly 
 dwelling on her memory, seemed to be the 
 aims of his daily existence. He appears to 
 have always had a habit of thinking for 
 himself and of actino^ out his thouo^hts : 
 of unswervingly doing as he thought fit, 
 and of not accommodating himself to other 
 people's ideas — which had been held in 
 check by his wife's influence. When her 
 gentle guidance was withdrawn, the course
 
 10 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 •of life which he pursued, though unob- 
 trusive, was decidedly ' eccentric,' as it is 
 customary to call anything strongly original. 
 
 His brothers and their wives told hiui 
 that he must have a lady housekeeper, and 
 ■a governess. My father was not in the 
 habit of speaking bluntly enough to saijy 
 but I dare say he thought ^ To scheme to 
 marry me !' He most decidedly refused to 
 adopt the suggestion ; and possibly the per- 
 tinacity with which it was pressed upon him, 
 led him to withdraw so much as he did 
 from correspondence with his relatives. 
 
 He led almost a hermit's life, and the 
 establishment was managed upon co-opera- 
 tive principles. Mrs. Stillingfleet, the house- 
 keeper, who had been my grandfather's 
 servant before she was my father's, and was 
 a staid woman of fifty now, was invested 
 with supreme power in the internal direction 
 of the house. Jane, our devoted old nurse.
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 11 
 
 had authority to care for the bodily needs 
 of the five boys then at home, and myself, 
 while my father took the posts of general 
 overlooker indoors, of director of the edu- 
 cational and bill-paying departments, and, 
 dismissing his steward, himself undertook the 
 management of his laro^e estate. His time 
 was thus completely filled up, and ]iis 
 establishment kept in train. 
 
 So far as the physical results of this com- 
 plicated scheme went, nothing was left to be 
 desired. Tall, strong, and robust, my young- 
 brothers and I became. But about the 
 mental and moral results ! — well, what do 
 you think they were likely to be ? Could 
 the fragile plant of young ladyism be reared 
 in this bracing out-door atmosphere ? Ah, 
 Mr. Tennyson ! with all your knowledge of life 
 and human nature^ I suspect you were mistaken 
 when you made your Elaine, Avho declared 
 ' My brethren have been all my fellowship,'
 
 12 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 so weak, so pliable, so very womanish ; Enid 
 or Guinevre might have grown up under 
 such conditions, but lily-white maidens grow 
 in drawing-rooms. If dying for love, and lying 
 awake all nio^ht to brood over a strano^er's 
 dark — splendid face, and all the rest of it, 
 are to be desired, then such an education as 
 mine should not be given your girls. But 
 let me show the results, and leave the verdict 
 to my readers. 
 
 It is one day removed by rather more than 
 ten years from that on which my father was 
 first horrified by the information of my 
 sex. I and three brothers — Willie, George, 
 and Charlie — have been duly aroused from 
 sleep at six in the morning, and arisen, 
 from our various beds, to assume our in- 
 dividual attire. Wonderful as to texture were 
 the garments of us all. Nurse bought the 
 thickest of cloth, the stoutest of winsey, 
 for our use ; for she said, with truth, that
 
 Lijnton Ahhotfs Children. 13 
 
 * them boys — and Miss Harry, too — was for 
 ever a-dragging, and pulling, and catching, 
 wherever there was branch or nail to catch 
 on, so as one pair of hands never could a-kep 
 'em tidy if so be as they wasn't dressed in 
 things as could stand a little.' 
 
 But the wonders of my vestments did not 
 cease with texture. I was the playmate 
 of boys — how could I wear the ordinary 
 clothes of a girl ? My petticoats, therefore, 
 were made scanty and short, and beneath 
 them frilled trousers descended to my ankles. 
 
 This sensible alteration in my costume 
 had been made by nurse's wisdom very early 
 in my career. When I wore the ordinary 
 dress, the skirts were nightly found re- 
 duced to tatters, saturated with wet from 
 dabbling in the lake, buttonless and string- 
 less ; while my knees were barked by my 
 frequent tumbles, and my bare arms scratched 
 by brambles and briars into piteous condition.
 
 14 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 Nurse silently bemoaned my fate ; but she 
 dared not venture on a remonstrance with my 
 father, whose authority supported me in my 
 favourite boyish pursuits ; so she wisely 
 accommodated her arrangements for my 
 personal comfort to the exigencies of our 
 circumstances. 
 
 Add to this, that my hair was cut short, 
 and that it perversely would not lie straight 
 except when parted to the side, and you will 
 understand that there was very slight dif- 
 ference in the external appearance of myself 
 and my younger brother Charlie, when he, 
 in his all-round holland pinafore, and I ran 
 off together, after our elder brothers, to 
 attend to the morning wants of our numerous 
 animal pets. The master — as even we often 
 called our father in speaking of him — per- 
 mitted all of us to keep just such animals, 
 and as many of them, as we might choose ; 
 he only appended the condition, that they
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 15 
 
 should never be neglected. To ensure this, 
 there existed a standing order, that every 
 morning before we received our breakfast^ 
 and every night before our supper, nurse 
 should inquire ^ Were the pets fed V And 
 it was also impressed upon us, that if the 
 master discovered any animal in a dirty and 
 unsatisfactory condition, permission to keep 
 pets would be removed from the derelict 
 owner. 
 
 But we inherited our father's gentleness 
 to the helpless things dependent on us for 
 happiness. We had a remembrance, so vaoTie 
 that it was almost a tradition, of our 
 brother Marshall having transgressed this 
 law, and of the storm of the master's wrath. 
 But even William, my senior by three years, 
 and five years younger than the criminal 
 Marshall, had never known exactly what 
 the offence had been. And the uncertainty 
 surrounding the fact, invested it with horror.
 
 16 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 and gave to the dimly remembered figure 
 of our elder brother — who was now studying 
 with our uncle, the Dean, preparing for 
 College, and for the Church — a black and 
 terrible outline. I mention this because I 
 cannot doubt that it influenced my feelings 
 toward my brother Marshall all through my 
 life ; and, also, because it is curiously illustra- 
 tive of how truly ^ the boy is father to the 
 man.' 
 
 Our various pets attended to, the four of 
 us returned to the house to breakfast ; and 
 at nine, we proceeded together to the library, 
 where our father awaited us. 
 
 Up to the age of fourteen, the master, 
 who was an accomplished scholar, had taught 
 all his boys himself Lynton, James, and 
 Everard, had passed out of his hands to 
 E-ugby, where the last-named still remained, 
 and from whence the two elders had pro- 
 ceeded to Oxford. But Marshall, who came
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 17 
 
 between James and Everard, had never gone 
 to school, but had been sent straight from his 
 father s to his uncle's tuition ; and this fact 
 may, perhaps, help to account for the dis- 
 position, so different from that of all the others 
 which Marshall developed. 
 
 Willie, the eldest of those four of Lynton 
 Abbott's children who were at home on the 
 day I am describing, was thirteen, and would 
 be leaving home in a few months for school. 
 George was only eleven, and Charlie nine, 
 with myself midway between these two. 
 
 Willie was deep in Virgil, and very skil- 
 ful at discovering which word out of the 
 third line below had to be brought up to 
 the one under consideration ; for which I 
 then supposed him a prodigy. After he had 
 construed for half-an-hour, George performed 
 various evolutions with irregular verbs, 
 and struggled with Csesar. Then I was 
 called upon to develop ' amo ' and its 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 18 Lynton Abbot fs Children. 
 
 companion intricacies of tense. Then Charlie 
 produced the declensions in perfection ; and 
 finally we all brought composition for exami- 
 nation. After this came various arithmetical 
 and mathematical difficulties, and English 
 grammar and composition ; and the morning 
 and our studies ended together with the 
 only remarkable feature of the master's 
 teaching. 
 
 To the end that his children, when they 
 were grown, should go the way he desired 
 without absolute compulsion, my father was 
 used, not only to always sj)eak to each one of 
 his future lot in life as a settled thing, but 
 to actually set lessons to each of his children 
 in the subject which must be the study of 
 the future life. 
 
 It wotild be comical to remember, if he 
 had not been so serious, how completely 
 my father ignored the fact of my sex. He 
 behaved to me always precisely as though
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 19 
 
 I had been the boy for whom he had looked, 
 and by whose name he addressed me. You 
 remember, perhaps, that the seventh son 
 was to be permitted to make election for 
 himself between the Church and medicine 
 as professions. My Uncle Henry had chosen 
 the latter ; but he had been allowed the 
 choice by my grandfather. No such freedom 
 of selection was given to the elder son, 
 Marshall ; there was a family living, and 
 whether he wished or no, he must prepare for 
 it. But Henry — that was me — would have 
 to make his own way, to a considerable 
 extent, in either profession ; and, therefore^ 
 might choose. Text-books of medical sub- 
 jects had been placed in my way, and my 
 taste watched, just as though I had, indeed, 
 been my father's seventh son. 
 
 Fortunately for myself, I developed a 
 very strong taste for medical study in all 
 its branches. It was most intensely in- 
 
 2—2
 
 20 Lynton Ahhotfs Children, 
 
 teresting to me. For the sake of knowing, 
 I even gladly surmounted the difficulties 
 presented by the long anatomical names ; 
 and to study the more fascinating parts of 
 anatomy was to me a delight rather than 
 a task. Willie and I, therefore, were both 
 engaged upon a large book of anatomy, 
 and in this subject we were equals ; for 
 though he made no objection, and had no 
 downright distaste for the profession of his 
 father's choice, my bright sweet-tempered 
 brother had none of my enthusiasm in the 
 study. 
 
 For an hour he and I sat side by 
 side in one great armchair, conning over 
 the names of the muscles of the front of 
 the forearm ; and such light and easy facts, 
 as that ' The pronator radii teres is a two- 
 headed muscle. The larger head arises from 
 the humerus, immediately above the inner 
 condyle, and is also attached to the fascia of
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 21 
 
 the forearm. The other head arises from 
 the inner side of the coronoid process of the 
 ulna/ etc., etc. Meanwhile, George sat 
 with our father at the table, buildinof fortifi- 
 cations with straws, from diagrams in a 
 military work. When we had mastered these 
 tasks, our morning's work was over. 
 
 ' Harry,' said Willie to me, as we sat at 
 the dinner-table, ' wouldn't you like to keep 
 a hedgehog V 
 
 ' No, thank you,' I replied, ' I've got all I 
 can do with already. But if you are going 
 down into Apsleigh, old fellow, you might 
 call and get me my pocket-knife — it's at the 
 blacksmith's, being riveted.' 
 
 Willie readily promised to bring it home 
 for me — I did not foresee the poor knife's 
 fate ; and he and George departed to Aps- 
 leigh immediately after dinner. Thus 
 Charlie and I were left alone, and our 
 ordinary afternoon cricket was neglected in
 
 22 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 consequence. I secured a new book, and 
 went out into the park to read it. 
 
 Believe me, you unfortunate young ladies 
 who have no experience in the matter, 
 there is no more delightful place for reading 
 a new book than one of the higher branches 
 of a tree. The trees in the apple-orchard, 
 bending under the weight of the fruit which 
 the July sun was ripening, were my favourite 
 retreat Choosing one of the largest and 
 sturdiest trunks, I deposited my book in my 
 pocket, and soon was comfortably arranged 
 upon the highest branch which would sup- 
 port my weight. 
 
 I suppose I had sat there about an hour, 
 when I glanced up from my book to see a sur- 
 prising sight — a carriage was just entering 
 the park-gates, and I watched it roll along 
 the distant path towards the house. I was 
 considerably astonished. The county gentry 
 were few in number in that neighbourhood,
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 23 
 
 and not wont to visit my father, in his 
 widowed state, without invitation. It was 
 not, however, so very remarkable a circum- 
 stance as to impel me to descend from my 
 perch to inquire into it. Something else 
 that I witnessed half-an-hour later, occurring 
 in the pets' field, which adjoined the apple- 
 orchard, had more effect — it brought me down 
 from the apple-tree, and sent me in flying 
 haste to demand justice from the master. 
 
 My father was not in the morning-room, 
 nor in the library ; but, as I ran upstairs, the 
 door of the white drawing-room, a sacred, 
 magnificent apartment, stood open, and I 
 hurried in. The. master sat full in the light 
 of a window, and I saw him at once. 
 
 ' Oh, father I' I exclaimed, full of my 
 grievance, ' Charlie has just been and taken 
 two of my little pigs. He says they are his, 
 because they have a black spot, but some 
 of mine had, too. I know he won't give them
 
 24 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 back without you speak to him. And he 
 
 LIFTED THEM OUT OF MY STYE BY THEIR EARS, 
 
 SIR ! I was up in the apple-tree, and I saw 
 him do it. My poor old sow did squeak so !*
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 25^ 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ^ My dear Lynton ! Whoever is this V 
 
 My eyes travelled in amazed search for the 
 speaker. They found her, a lady, magnifi- 
 cent both in size and attire, seated on a couch 
 a little in the shadow. Flowing draperies, 
 gigantic headgear, and massive and haughty 
 features, expressive at this moment of the 
 most utter astonishment, had their due effect 
 upon me. I stood motionless, too abashed 
 even to retire. 
 
 My father transferred the reply to me. 
 ' This is your aunt, Mrs. Marshall Abbott,. 
 Harry. Come and shake hands with her,, 
 and tell her whom you are.'
 
 26 Lyntoii Abbott's Children. 
 
 I advanced to the stately lady, having re- 
 gained, in this little pause, a fitting amount 
 of self-possession. My new aunt prepared to 
 receive me graciously ; she did hold out her 
 hand, and permitted me to imprint the shape 
 of mine, in the grime of the apple-tree's 
 trunk, upon her delicate grey glove. But 
 she palpably shrunk from bringing my whole 
 form into contact with her garments. 
 
 ^ And which of my little nephews are you V 
 she inquired, with gracious condescension. 
 
 ' I am Harry, ma'am,' I replied, naturally 
 repeating to my aunt the name by which I 
 was known to all my equals, rather than that 
 hitherto used by servants alone. 
 
 * Harry !' said Mrs. Marshall, contracting 
 her brows just a little in momentary bewilder- 
 ment, ' Harry !' Then light dawned upon 
 her memory : ' Surely, my dear Lynton, this 
 is never your daughter Henrietta V 
 
 My father looked very stern — this was pro-
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 27 
 
 bably the first time he had been compelled to 
 recognise my girlhood since my mother's 
 death. 
 
 ' Answer your aunt's question, Harry,' he 
 said to me, in an irritated tone. 
 
 ' Yes, ma'am,' I said, ' I am Henrietta.' 
 Mrs. Marshall positively rose from her seat, 
 in her bewilderment, and moved a few steps 
 away to survey her niece. That unfortunate 
 child, long-trousered, short-petticoated, and 
 masculine-haired, with sunburnt face, and 
 apple-tree-trunkish hands and clothes, stood 
 to be viewed, very thoroughly conscious of 
 the immense difference between herself and 
 her critic, and suspicious, for the first tune in 
 her life, that trousers on a girl might be 
 criminal. 
 
 * How old are you, Henrietta T inquired 
 the lady, when she had mastered every detail 
 of the picture before her. 
 
 * I am ten, ma'am.'
 
 28 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 ^And you — you always look like that — 
 you wear a dress like that every day ?' 
 
 * Yes, ma'am.' 
 
 'And this is your only daughter, Mr. 
 Abbott V said his sister-in-law. 
 
 'Poor Harry! What is there objection- 
 able in the unfortunate fellow V said m}^ 
 father, good-breeding suppressing the an- 
 noyance which I saw working at the corner 
 of his lips. 
 
 ' Excuse me — I do not want to be intru- 
 sive,' said Mrs. Marshall, ' but what do you 
 think poor Catherine would feel if she could 
 see this child growing up in this manner V 
 
 I had never seen the master so powerfully 
 and obviously affected as he was by this men- 
 tion of his dead wife. Mrs. Marshall Abbott 
 evidently had diplomatic ability. By this 
 speech she had prepared my father to listen 
 to her as, probably, she could not have done 
 • in any other way. Her next sentence was
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 29 
 
 directed to making him listen good-tem- 
 peredly. 
 
 ' I hope my teaching will not have been 
 such as anyone could disapprove,' was my 
 father's reply, but given in a defensive in- 
 stead of an aofofressive tone. 
 
 * Indeed, I do not doubt that. But, Lyn- 
 ton, that is not all.' The dean's majestic 
 lady walked forward to the window^ dragging 
 her heavy skirts with a rustling noise, and 
 faced my father, with her gloved hand resting 
 gently on his arm, the while she delivered 
 the remainder of her sentence : ' If you are 
 not prepared to listen to and appreciate reason, 
 you are not the Lynton Abbott I knew twenty 
 years ago, when we were all young together.' 
 
 This was the most gross flattery. Twenty 
 years before, when the dean and my father 
 were young men at Oxford, and this lady was 
 the daughter of one of the houses where they 
 visited most, I have heard this very Mrs.
 
 30 Lynton Ahhott's Children. 
 
 Marshall herself declare that she and the 
 dean often laughed together at the way in 
 which the heir of Apsleigh clung to a decision 
 which he had once made, however mistaken 
 or insufficient the grounds upon which he had 
 formed ifc. But never mind, now. Mrs. 
 Marshall had attained her purpose — the 
 master was thus brought into a pliable con- 
 dition. 
 
 ^ You cannot alter facts, Lynton,' she went 
 on. ' And what is the very thing for boys 
 will not answer in training girls. This is 
 your only daughter. She is Miss Abbott of 
 Apsleigh ; she must take the place of her 
 mother in your household in a few years. 
 However you may insist upon educating her 
 as a boy, she has to be a woman. You can- 
 not make a lady of your daughter in these 
 circumstances.' 
 
 * My children are taught to be scrupulously 
 polite to one another,' said my father, a little
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 31 
 
 frigidly ; ' you would never hear or see rude- 
 ness from one to another.' 
 
 ' Yes/ resumed Mrs. Marshall, undaunted, 
 ' but it is the manner, theje ne sais quoi, that 
 I mean. Now you,' (insidious flatteiy again) 
 * you, yourself, Lynton, are one of the most 
 finished gentlemen I ever knew ; but your 
 manner would have been strange, indeed, 
 upon your wife or upon me. It is the 
 peculiar indefinite something that marks 
 the lady of which I speak.' 
 
 My father unwillingly admitted the force 
 of this representation. 
 
 ' Lend me your daughter for a few years,' 
 said my aunt kindly ; ^ I will send her 
 back to you worthy her position — the only 
 daughter of the elder branch of our house." 
 
 The master's countenance presented a sin- 
 gular mixture of pain, indecision, and grati- 
 tude — at least, so I now read the expression 
 which imprinted itself upon my memory by
 
 32 Lyntoii Abbott's Children. 
 
 its singularity. After a few monients he 
 transferred the question to me : 
 
 ^ Will you go with your Aunt Marshall to 
 Ids made a lady, Harry V 
 
 ' No, sir, please/ replied I, promptly. 
 
 They both smiled at the readiness of my 
 -answer ; but I had heard the whole dis- 
 cussion, and slowness of decision was not one 
 of my characteristics. 
 
 ^ I thoroughly appreciate the kindness of 
 your offer, my dear Mrs. Marshall,' said my 
 father, taking up the thread of the discourse, 
 ' but I am ver}^ unwilling to part with 
 Harry, and you see he is perfectly certain 
 he doesn't want to go. Is it not all right at 
 present ? Can things not go on very well as 
 they are for some time longer, and the polish 
 be applied later in life V 
 
 ' I find my niece dressed in — yes, in boys' 
 •clothes,' replied Mrs. Marshall solemnly, 
 ' with her hair parted at the side, and her
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 33 
 
 face and hands stained extraordinary colours ; 
 and she presents herself to me by saying 
 something about her pigstye ! This is when 
 she is ten years old. No, Mr. Abbott ! It 
 must not be delayed any longer. If your 
 daughter is to be fitted for her station in 
 society, the beginning of the work is already 
 too long deferred. How is she ever to . , . 
 Bun away a little while, Henrietta, my child, 
 while I talk to your papa.' 
 
 She paused in her argument until I had 
 kft the room. I departed to the library, 
 where I sat with my hands clenched, and 
 my thoughts a perfect whirl of anger and 
 dismay. The possibility of complete change 
 and severance from all that I had loved 
 through all my life, which had opened before 
 me as suddenly as a gulf before the feet of the 
 victim of an earthquake, was so appalHng that 
 I was momentarily unable to realise it in 
 all its dreadful significance. 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 Nearly half an hour must have passed 
 when I heard the drawing-room bell ring ; 
 and presently after my father's voice bidding 
 the housemaid to tell Stillingfleet that 
 Mrs. Abbott would dine with him at six, 
 and also to send nurse to him. When 
 nurse's step sounded along the passage and 
 up the stairs, I could not resist the tempta- 
 tion to steal to the door, that I might listen 
 what should be said to her — for was I not 
 then to hear my fate declared ? 
 
 * Mrs. Marshall Abbott is kindly going to 
 take Harry on a visit, nurse/ I heard my 
 father say ; ^ you must put such things as 
 you think will be of use to him — to — her, 
 and her books, and so on, into a trunk. She 
 will leave about half-past six this evening.' 
 
 ' And nurse,' 'said Mrs. Marshall's voice^ 
 * I suppose Miss Henrietta has a dress made 
 in the ordinary fashion — not like what she 
 has on just now V
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 35 
 
 ^ Miss Hetty only haves two longish 
 frocks, ma'am ; one white, and one blue 
 French merino, which she wears when the 
 master haves visitors. I'm very sorry, 
 ma'am,' said nurse, ' as I didn't catch her 
 to put one on afore you saw her.' 
 
 ' And they are really fit to be seen, are 
 theyl Well, Avill you be good enough to 
 put on her the merino, and you need not 
 pack any such dresses as she has on now.' 
 
 Mrs. Marshall having gained my father's 
 irrevocable word, was carrying things with 
 rather a high hand. 
 
 I rushed out of the library, out of the 
 house, in a perfect agony of grief and appre- 
 hension. My three brothers, returning from 
 Apsleigh — for Charley had gone, after jug- 
 gling with the pigs, to meet George and 
 Willie — found me in my crushing anguish. 
 I had gathered around me the dearly-loved 
 creatures from whom I was about to be 
 
 3—2
 
 36 Lynton AhhotVs Children. 
 
 separated for ever. I had laid my head 
 u])on the shaggy side of my great New- 
 foundland, and Crisp, my woolly-haired 
 mongrel, nestled his faithful body within an 
 outstretched arm ; gathered into my lap were 
 my guinea-pig, and my favourite white rab- 
 bit ; and upon his perch in the aviary, where 
 my longing, upturned eyes rested upon him, 
 sat the handsome clever parrot, who was the 
 delight and pride of my life. These made up 
 half my world. I w^as doomed to bid them 
 an eternal farewell ! No fears for my own 
 future entered my mind ; every thought was 
 absorbed by the coming wrench of parting 
 from these, and then from Willie and my 
 father — in a word, from all that my heart 
 contained. 
 
 * Poor dear Harry 1 What is the matter V 
 cried Willie, kneeling down and tenderly 
 substituting his shoulder for Alexander's 
 side.
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 37 
 
 The convulsive sobs, which were redoubled 
 at this action, prevented me from speaking, 
 for the time ; but I moved my burning eyes 
 from tlie parrot, and turned them upon my 
 best-loved brother. 
 
 'Poor dear old fellow,' said Willie anxi- 
 ously, ' can't you say what it is V 
 
 I struggled to reply, but my voice seemed 
 entirely gone. Fortunately, at this moment 
 nurse came, with red eyes, in search of the 
 victim, to dress it for sacrifice on the altar of 
 conventionality. Willie appealed to her for 
 an explanation. 
 
 ' Miss Hetty's going to be taken away 
 from us all, to go with her aunt, at a 
 moment's notice,' said nurse, indignantly. 
 
 With a mighty shudder, breath returned 
 to me at this blunt statement of my cruel fate. 
 
 ' Oh ! Willie, Willie !' I gasped, throwing 
 my arms round his neck, ' I cannot go away I 
 I shall die, I shall die I'
 
 38 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 I WAS very weary when, on the evenmg of 
 the day following my sadden separation from 
 my home treasures, my aunt, her maid, and 
 I, alighted from the train at the station of 
 the cathedral town of Dalestonbury. The 
 plump carriage which had come to meet us 
 received as one of its occupants an unfor- 
 tunate little sfirl, sick with mental and bodilv 
 fatigue. We had travelled far into the 
 middle of the night to reach London, and I 
 had lain in the hotel bed, kept awake by 
 misery for many hours, only falling into a 
 doze from sheer exhaustion a little while 
 before my aunt's maid came to dress me for
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children, 39 
 
 breakfast. Weary hours of travelling had 
 been again undergone, and at last, at five in 
 the evening, we reached the Lincolnshire 
 town where was to be my present place of 
 rest. 
 
 All through the early part of the journey, 
 my only relief from sorrow had been strong 
 resentment against Mrs. Marshall, who ap- 
 peared to me in the guise of a bitter, cruel 
 enemy. But grief gradually subdued me. 
 My aunt, finding me silent, had wisely 
 spoken to me very little. And now I was 
 prepared to feel even grateful for her kind- 
 ness when she drew me back into the 
 cushions of the carriage, and, resting my 
 head on her shoulder, told me encouragingly 
 that we had nearly reached our journey's 
 end. 
 
 Through nearly a mile of the principal 
 street of the town, then for a few minutes 
 past high, grey walls, above which I saw the
 
 40 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 cathedral church rising ; then the carriage 
 passed through large iron gates, opened by 
 the footman, and we dashed along a short 
 avenue, bordering the lawn, up to the door 
 of the Deanery. 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Marshall Abbott, Dean of 
 Dalestonbury, Rector of Haughton and Up- 
 per Fifley, author of * Notes on the Athana- 
 sian Creed,' and numerous other works — this 
 dignitary was the elderly, thin, grave gentle- 
 man who stood in the drawing-room door to 
 receive us ; and who, after greeting his wife, 
 turned upon my figure a look of amazement — 
 almost incredulity. 
 
 ' Who is this little lady V he asked. 
 
 ' She is Miss Abbott,' said his wife, calmly; 
 evidently it did not strike her that he might 
 desire to express an opinion upon her action 
 with respect to me. 
 
 ^ What I — Lynton's only daughter V 
 
 ' Just so — but don't keep me to explain
 
 Lynton Abbot fs Children. 41 
 
 now. We are both thoroughly tired, and we 
 must dress a Uttle for dinner. Come with 
 me, Henrietta.' 
 
 I followed her up the stairs to a pretty little 
 sanctum, half dressing-room, half boudoir. 
 Here Mrs. Marshall submitted herself to the 
 hands of Parks, and emerged with a wonder- 
 ful coronet of hair ; then she was attired in a 
 violet, lace-adorned robe, far outstripping in 
 splendour the black silk in which she had 
 visited my father. Never once, through all 
 the fifteen 3^ears of their wedded life, had 
 Mrs. Abbott taken her seat at the head of 
 the dean's table without first performing an 
 elaborate toilette, without bracelets on her 
 fine arms, and diamond earrino^s oflitterinof be 
 side her hair. And, in return, never had the 
 dean's eyes, even, much less his heart, strayed 
 for one moment from their legitimate object 
 of admiration. 
 
 Parks exerted all her skill, and expended a
 
 42 Lyiitoii Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 considerable quantity of pomade upon my 
 favoured head. 
 
 * Really, ma'am/ she was constrained to say 
 at last, ' I don't know what is to be done with 
 the young lady's hair. It's too short to tie 
 back with a ribbon, and lie down parted in 
 the middle it won't ! It stands up bolt, ma'am. 
 I'll have to part it at the side.' 
 
 My aunt surveyed me for a moment with a 
 dissatisfied face. Then she said : 
 
 ^ Certainly it cannot be allowed to stand up 
 in that absurd fashion. So it must be parted 
 at the side, to begin with. That is only one 
 of many things we will alter by degrees.' 
 
 The clanging of the dinner-bell had hastened 
 her decision, and we had only just entered the 
 drawing-room when the butler announced, 
 * Dinner is served, sir.' 
 
 My aunt had not dropped my hand after 
 descending the stairs, and now she took the 
 dean's arm on the other side, and thus led
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 43 
 
 me into the dining-room. By this means I 
 was prevented from seeing the other person 
 who was cominof to dinner. 
 
 The briUiant hght, and the splendour of the 
 table, dazzled me for the moment. My father 
 lived simply, and the family plate was only 
 produced on those rare occasions when he had 
 visitors, and then we children were kept out 
 of the way. The dean's wife approved of a 
 showy table, as much as of a showy person. 
 Silver forks and spoons daily would never 
 content her. The useless metal glittered 
 under the gas, which the dusk of the October 
 evening made necessary ; and the heart of the 
 butler, whose was the responsibility, and the 
 fingers of the footman, whose was the labour, 
 had never a day's respite, whether visitors 
 came to the Deanery, or whether the display 
 shone under the eyes of its mistress alone. 
 
 We stood at the table while the dean de- 
 livered himself of grace. My irreverent eyes,
 
 44 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 straying over the flowers in the epergne, saw, 
 at the other side of the great table, a tall bony 
 youth, at vision of whom my heart beat. 
 
 'Ah, Marshall/ said Mrs. Abbott, as she 
 raised her eyes, ^ where were you when I 
 came in ? Can you guess who this little girl 
 
 isr 
 
 He looked at me from under his eyebrows. 
 I thought he was scowling, but it was 
 natural to him. 
 
 ^ No, ma'am.' Answer given with a kind 
 of sulky indifference. 
 
 * It is your little sister Henrietta. You 
 will like to have home news from her. No, 
 my child, sit still now ; you can talk to your 
 brother after dinner.' 
 
 A gleam of interest in the bony youth's 
 eye had made me, impulsive, start up to go 
 toward him. On this same youth I built all 
 my hopes of immediate happiness. 
 
 During the progress of dinner the dean
 
 Lynton Abbot fs Children. 45 
 
 and his wife talked at intervals on local 
 affairs. The sullen youth said never a word 
 the whole time ; either his faculties were 
 absorbed by his feeding, or he was trained to 
 €hew the cud of his own observations in 
 silence. It was not until the servants de- 
 parted, leaving the dessert on the table, that 
 Mrs. Marshall proceeded to give the promised 
 explanation of my ^jresence. 
 
 ^ As I wrote to you I intended,' she said, 
 addressing the dean, ^ I went a little out of 
 my way to Exeter station, and drove from 
 there to Abbey Castle. Of course, Lynton 
 was surprised to see me, but he was exceed- 
 ingly cordial. He told me the children were 
 all out ; and no doubt he meant to have 
 them duly prepared for presentation to me. 
 But this young lady came rushing into the 
 room w^ith some information about her pig- 
 stye. And really, when I discovered that it 
 was Henrietta, I was horrified ; my dear dean,
 
 46 Lijnton Abbott's Children. 
 
 I won't make her blush by describing her ap- 
 pearance. But you could never have guessed 
 she wasn't a boy ; and a very untidy one, too. 
 Lynton called her " Harry," and, it seemed 
 to me, never made the slightest difference 
 in his treatment of them between her and 
 the rest of his boys. Did you know that 
 your father was bringing up this girl in such 
 an out-of-the-way fashion, Marshall V 
 
 The saturnine youth was smiling a heavy 
 smile. He aroused at this direct question, 
 and answered, gruffly as briefly — 
 
 * Yes, ma'am.' 
 
 ^ Why did you never speak about it to me ? 
 Then w^e might have taken some steps about 
 it before.' 
 
 ' It was not my place to interfere with 
 Avhat the master saw fit to do ' — relapsing 
 into complete gloom again. 
 
 ' You mistake, Marshall,' said the dean, 
 in a tutorial tone ; ^ it is the bounden duty of
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 47 
 
 every person to interfere to prevent abuse of 
 power.' 
 
 This doctrine of universal interference did 
 not please his wife. 
 
 ^ Nonsense,' she interposed, * Marshall talks 
 reasonably. His excuse is a good one. Of 
 course, it is not his place to interfere with or 
 criticise the judgments and decisions of his 
 elders. Remember always what you have 
 just said, Marshall.' 
 
 Marshall's brows lowered as much more 
 as it was physically possible for them to do. 
 Surveying him, I opined that his aunt's 
 words and his front together implied that 
 the doctrine was one not always practically 
 supported by him. But therein I under- 
 rated the young man's craftiness. 
 
 ' But really,' continued Mrs. Marshall, 
 ' this state of affairs was nothing to be 
 laughed over. It would have been deplorable 
 if the only daughter of the elder family had
 
 48 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 been brought up right to womanhood in this 
 strange manner. The poor girl would have 
 been a social monstrosity, of no possible use 
 in creation. I felt that it was only Christian 
 charity — only my duty to my husband's 
 name — to rescue her from this fate. No 
 doubt, dean, you will agree with me V 
 
 Mrs. Marshall was far too clever a woman, 
 and had far too much self-respect, to possess 
 a hen-pecked husband. What glory can a 
 woman find in the submission of her husband 
 to her judgment, when it is patent to all the 
 w^orld that his deference is mere homage of 
 fear ? What comj)liment to her wisdom is 
 there, when it is evident to all who have eyes 
 to see that her counsel is followed by her 
 lord merely because he has a constitutional 
 desire for a quiet life ? The utmost respect 
 for her husband's opinion was always shown 
 by the Dean's wife. No step of importance 
 was definitely taken by her without his con-
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 49 
 
 currence. But the remarkable point was 
 that never in pubUc, and, so far as could be 
 known, never in private, was there a dif- 
 ference of intention or opinion between 
 them ; and Mrs. Marshall was certain of her 
 husband's approbation for whatever she took 
 in hand. 
 
 This result had not been obtained by the 
 rough means which stupid women put in 
 force. Mrs. Abbott had never coaxed her 
 legal master; still less had she at any- 
 period bullied her liege. Not one storm of 
 wrath, not one whirlwind of undignified hys- 
 teria, had swept across the calm sea of their 
 joined life. 
 
 Such ruses as these are the resources of 
 weak minds. Mrs. Marshall Abbott was not 
 weak. In all the essential points of strength 
 of character she was the superior of her hus- 
 band. The firmer, broader intellect was his ; 
 the rapidity and tenacity of decision, the 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 clearness of perception, the perseverance, the 
 readiness of judgment, were hers. Thus the 
 administrative abiHfcy belonged to her, and 
 the seals of office came to her hand unasked 
 for. Whosoever must cry aloud for power, 
 by the act proves himself unworthy thereof 
 
 The little world of Dalestonbury could 
 not analyse them mentally, to know this ; 
 between themselves it had never been ac- 
 knowledged, even to silent consciousness. It 
 never is. Our friends and relatives have their 
 standing places in our minds — our equals, our 
 superiors, our inferiors ; but they are classified 
 by unconscious cerebration, and acknowledged 
 unknowingly. 
 
 Therefore the Dean scarcely felt that he 
 always submitted to his wife ; therefore the 
 gossips of their world could not understand 
 why he did so. Nine times out of ten, when 
 the Dean had heard his wife's oj)inion, he 
 simply altered her vocabulary, and returned
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 51 
 
 her one of her own sentences in soundino^ 
 language, under the honest impression that it 
 was an original production of his own thought. 
 So did he now ; for he answered her question 
 thus : 
 
 ' I do agree with you, quite. Poor httle 
 one ! she would have been devoid of purpose 
 and position in hfe — there would have been 
 no local habitation in society discoverable for 
 such a hisits natitrce. You have exhibited 
 your customary benevolence and perspicacity,, 
 my love.* 
 
 I must defend myself, en avance, from 
 being supposed to convey that these reflec- 
 tions upon the character and position of this 
 reverend doctor and his lady were those of a 
 child of ten. By no means. Precocious and 
 early strong-minded as I was, I had not quite 
 got up to that point. But when I call up these 
 vivid remembrances of my early days, you 
 must expect to find them sometimes alloyed 
 
 4—2 
 
 ..TV Or \tUHO^^
 
 52 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 or refined by the matured understanding 
 through which I must draw them. The in- 
 teUigence of later years casts a new hght 
 upon the remembered facts of earher years. 
 One has no choice but to present the facts of 
 one's early years more or less embellished by 
 their setting in the wisdom of maturity ; the 
 character of the fact is not altered by the 
 surroundings. 
 
 ' I am afraid,' added Mrs. Marshall, by 
 way of concluding the subject, ' that 
 Henrietta does not see me in the light of 
 a benefactress, at present. She was very 
 grieved to part from her brothers — especially 
 from the big fair boy, the eldest at home. 
 Then there were a number of pet animals 
 which it was a great grief to lose. In fact, 
 we have had to bring one particularly ugly 
 little dog, named Crisp, with us, in a basket ; 
 for poor Henrietta's heart-strings were twined 
 around him so closely that they would have
 
 » Lynton Abbott's Childi^en. 53 
 
 been broken if he had been left behind. 
 Never mind, darhng,' benevolently patting 
 my shoulder as she rose from table, * you will 
 understand one day what a fortunate event 
 for you this is.'
 
 54 Lijnton Ahhott's Children, 
 
 CHAPTEH IV. 
 
 When we re-entered the drawing-room after 
 dinner, my aunt, having first required and 
 received an assurance that I was not sleepy, 
 and added on her side a caution that she 
 should not permit me to sit up later than 
 eight, referred me for amusement to a table 
 covered with books. 
 
 She and my uncle sat down, immediately 
 under the chandelier, to play cribbage. The 
 evening was the only leisure time that the 
 Dean permitted himself ; cribbage and back- 
 gammon were his beau-ideals of healthy 
 mental recreative games, and his wife duti- 
 fully resigned herself for several hours each
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 55 
 
 evening to assisting him in obtaining this 
 same recreation. 
 
 The books failed to interest me. The truth 
 was, I was thoroughly fagged out, but pos- 
 sessed in perfection the boyish reluctance to 
 acknowledge overpowering fatigue. I glanced 
 at all the books near by me ; then got up from 
 my seat and went to the other side of the 
 table, to inspect those there. Thus I stood 
 with my back to my aunt for a moment. I 
 heard her call my name in her clear tones. I 
 went to her. 
 
 * My child,' she said, ' you must stand 
 straight. You are pushing one shoulder 
 farther than the other out of that 
 frock.' 
 
 This unjust accusation was a little irrita- 
 ting. I was rather proud of my straight 
 figure, which my father had been wont to 
 praise. I rebelled. 
 
 ' I was not, indeed, ma'am.'
 
 56 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 ' One shoulder was higher up than the 
 other, Henrietta.' 
 
 ' But my pocket is on that side.' 
 ^ Do you mean that there is something in 
 your pocket so heavy that it drags down your 
 dress from your shoulder ? What is it V 
 
 * I have my pocket-knife, ma'am.' 
 
 * Show it to me, my child.' 
 
 I produced the knife obediently — the knife 
 which Willie had brought for me from the 
 blacksmith at Apsleigh, and which he had 
 forgotten to give me until my trunk was 
 corded. 
 
 Mrs. Marshall drew her brows a little to- 
 gether when I exhibited my possession. 
 
 ^ It is no wonder that your dress is dragged 
 down/ was her comment. ^ That great thing 
 is utterly unfit for a girl. You are to be a boy 
 no longer, Henrietta — go and offer that knife 
 to your brother.' 
 
 For a variety of reasons this command was
 
 Lynton Ahhott's Children. 57 
 
 not congenial to my feelings. The knife had 
 considerable intrinsic value in my eyes; it was 
 one of the few mementoes that I possessed of 
 my past happy life. It was the last thing that 
 Willie's hand had touched, the memorial of 
 the last httle service his brotherly affection 
 had wrought for me. I felt that I was be- 
 ginning to undergo a kind of persecution, 
 and anger spoke in my tones. 
 
 ' My father had it made on purpose for me, 
 ma'am.' 
 
 ' Very possibly ; but ' 
 
 *And it has a dissecting blade,' I inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 ' Then Marshall will like it so much the 
 more. He takes a great interest in that sort 
 of study. But you do not require a dissect- 
 ing blade now. You must not dispute my 
 commands, my dear child.' 
 
 My uncle by this time had finished re- 
 dealing the cards ; and, with an air of leaving
 
 58 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 the point completely settled, Mrs. Marshall 
 returned to her game. 
 
 This kind of dogmatic authority over my 
 personal trivial affairs was new to me, and 
 anything but pleasant. If my aunt had con- 
 tinued to argue the point, I should have 
 continued to resist ; but the calmness with 
 which she closed the conversation quite over- 
 powered my speech. 
 
 The option of silent resistance — that is, 
 disobedience — remained to me. Under other 
 circumstances, judging by my character, I 
 probably should have taken this course — 
 should have defiantly disregarded the arbi- 
 trary command. At this moment the force 
 of my self-will was lessened by extreme 
 fatigue, and, in addition, I presently found 
 that I had a reason of my own for obeying 
 the order. 
 
 I leant my back against the table thinking 
 the matter over. The lowering youth sat at
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 59 
 
 an occasional table, right at the other end of 
 the room ; with a tall clismal-looking volume 
 supported in front of him, to catch the full 
 light of the wax caaidles on the bracket be- 
 hind him. He seemed absorbed in his book ; 
 all emotions, from amusement down to disgust, 
 expressed themselves on his countenance by 
 the one expedient of bringing lower his brows, 
 already unpleasantly overhanging. His eyes, 
 now, were apparently as far back as his ears. 
 He did not look inviting, by any means. 
 
 But this penthouse-browed youth w^as my 
 brother, and I wanted him to love. The re- 
 membrance that I was to find him in this 
 strange place had been my one sustaining 
 thought all through the misery I had en- 
 dured. The bleeding fibres of my heart, 
 yearning for something to cling to in comfort 
 for their lost supports, were yet not indis- 
 criminating. They were not prepared to clasp 
 the first persons whom they encountered.
 
 60 Lyntoji Ahhotf.s Children, 
 
 Mrs. Marshall had been the cause of their 
 agony ; the Dean, as I opined, was learned 
 and stern ; no servant here had the claim of 
 association and fidelity on my affection. I 
 had known I could not yet love any of these. 
 But I was to find a brother here. The name 
 had for me only a sweet significance. It was 
 the drop of syrup in the bitter cup — Hope at 
 the bottom of the box. 
 
 That is to say, this dark, gloomy, thick- 
 browed, heavy, and altogether unpleasant 
 young person, who had not addressed one 
 word to his lonely little sister, was my syrup, 
 my Hope ! 
 
 It occurred to me, at once, that the deliver- 
 ing up to him of one of my few treasures was 
 the best of opportunities for enticing forth 
 for my delight this young gentleman's 
 syrupy qualities. Besides, I would not 
 object to yielding anything whatever to 
 this brother, on whom all my yearning love
 
 Lynton Ahhott's Children. 61 
 
 was to be concentrated. I Avould obey, 
 certainly. 
 
 I opened all the blades, having in view 
 hi^ full appreciation of the gift, when I had 
 arrived at this consoling determination, and 
 went gently along the room to act upon it. 
 
 My soft short skirts and my light weight 
 moved noiselessly over the thick carpet. 
 It was not until my shadow fell upon his 
 page that my syrup observed my approach. 
 Instantly he caught a thin yellow-covered 
 pamphlet up from the leaves of the divinity 
 volume and huddled it under his loosely- 
 spread handkerchief, the while his face be- 
 came of a pale violet hue. Then he looked 
 up, and disappointedly remarked to me that 
 I was only myself. 
 
 ^ Aunt sent me,' I commenced ; this was 
 very far indeed from the beginning I had in- 
 tended to make, but he looked so sour that I 
 felt constrained to offer a kind of apology for
 
 62 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 my presumption in disturbing him. ' Aunt 
 sent me to give you this knife.' 
 
 The Hght ghttered upon the open blades, 
 and his eyes, from out their cavern, watched 
 the shining radiance ; but his tongue only un- 
 enthusiastically responded : 
 
 ^ Um— m V 
 
 ' She said you would like to have it,' I 
 added, doubtful if he understood his good 
 fortune. 
 
 ' Well ? Why don't you put it down V 
 
 * Aren't you even going to say '^ Thank 
 you " ?' I demanded indignantly. 
 
 ' Bosh ! Thank you, child.' 
 
 He was impatient to resume his surrepti- 
 tious yellow-covered book — his hand twitched 
 upon it under the handkerchief; as a hint to 
 that effect, he devoted his regards to the great 
 work which he appeared, from the distance, 
 to be so absorbed in. But I could not quite 
 resign my Hope all in a moment. My small
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. G3 
 
 flash of indignation went out, and I ventured, 
 with my heart in my tones, another innocent 
 remark : 
 
 ' You are my brother Marshall, aren't 
 your 
 
 ^ Yes,' in dreary voice. 
 
 ' Will you take me about with you V 
 
 ' No.' In precisely the same tone. 
 
 ' Won't you be very fond of me ?' 
 
 ^ I can't say.' 
 
 Upon this crusher I subsided, and stood 
 before him silent. Only so for one instant ; 
 then he raised his eyes from the depths, and 
 said : 
 
 ' Go away. I cannot read with you there.' 
 
 Even as I turned to obey him the small 
 book came forth again. 
 
 How can I describe the emotions of that 
 moment, in which the last gleam of light in 
 my heavens faded out, and the blackness of 
 desolation reigned overhead ? A feelino^ of
 
 64 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 utter, utter solitude overwhelmed my soul. 
 In the midst of a desert, craving for the 
 sound of human voice, for the touch of human 
 hand, longing to kiss ground upon which 
 another human being's foot had stepped, the 
 miserable castaway could not feel more 
 fearfully alone than I in Dean Abbott's draw- 
 ing-room. Who can realise this sorrowful 
 moment with my memory ? They only who, 
 with similar circumstances, have known the 
 torture of possessing a heart at once proud 
 and warm. 
 
 When my aunt sent me up to bed, misery 
 broke through my reserve, and I piteously 
 implored Parks to bring up Crisp from the 
 kitchen for a few moments. When the good- 
 natured young woman complied, and my 
 dearly-loved doggie came bounding around 
 me, testifying his delight by the ardour of 
 his caresses, I obtained some relief; for, clasp- 
 ing him in my arms, I sat down upon the
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 65 
 
 ground, and buried in his Avoolly neck the 
 bitter sensation of lovelessness. 
 
 The next day, the course of my immediate 
 education was begun. My aunt, inquiring 
 what I knew most about^ and being answered 
 * Latin and anatomy,' was horrified. 
 
 Her corrective measures commenced by 
 settino^ me down at once to an hour's 
 drudgery at the piano under her tuition, and 
 getting in hand two elaborate fancy-work 
 undertakings. There was a shopping expedi- 
 tion, too ; and I sufiered the pain of being 
 turned round and round by a dressmaker for 
 an hour, in process of making several new 
 frocks. 
 
 These proceedings occupied most of the 
 day. In the evening, books were my only 
 amusement. My brother Marshall seemed 
 occupied all day, either studying with the 
 Dean, or assisting in the cathedral service, or 
 following his own devices : and in the even- 
 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 Lyntcn Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 ing, when he was in the drawing-room, he 
 ensconced himself in silence behind some great 
 :vork — I always suspected that big book, 
 though. He never sjDoke one word of kind- 
 ness to me ; never made an effort to relieve 
 the monotony of my leisure moments. He 
 might have won from me, then, devotion 
 which would have lasted all through our 
 lives ; as it was, I lived upon the memory of 
 Willie and my father, with the present affec- 
 tion and comfort of Crisp. 
 
 Things had progressed in this manner for a 
 week, when, one morning, it occurred to my 
 aunt that the small trunk brought with me 
 from home had not yet been opened ; and 
 Avhen I was released from drumminof over 
 the lines and spaces, and notes ^ above the 
 clef,' she summoned me to my bedroom to 
 assist in the unpacking. 
 
 We had nearly reached the bottom of the 
 box — Mrs. Marshall having, with calm con-
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children, 67 
 
 tempt, presented to Parks most of the 
 jrarments it contained — when we came to a 
 
 o 
 
 very large book. I pounced upon it, and 
 affectionately hugged its covers. 
 
 ' What is that book, my dear V Mrs. 
 Abbott asked. 
 
 ' Ellis's Anatomy, aunt ;' she had forbidden 
 me to call her ^ ma'am.' 
 
 ' Dear me ! Why was that packed for you, 
 I wonder V 
 
 The question was not interrogative of me, 
 but I answered at once : 
 
 ^ Because I have learnt lessons out of it. 
 I've gone straight through the bones and 
 muscles, nearly ; and I know a lot about the 
 other part, too. Oh, it is so interesting, 
 aunt ! Willie and I learnt together out of 
 this book every day, and dear Willie ran to 
 ask the master if he would get him another 
 one, that I might take this and keep up with 
 Willie — learn as much as he would do, every 
 
 5—2
 
 68 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 day. I shall have a whole chapter to catch 
 up now.' 
 
 I was voluble with satisfaction, and beamed 
 upon the big volume. 
 
 Mrs. Abbott's answer came in those calm, 
 finished tones which I was learning to hate 
 and dread : 
 
 ' I am sorry to be constantly reminding 
 you, dear child, that you have come with me 
 on purpose not to do all the peculiar things 
 you did at home. Willie studies anatomy 
 because he is going to be a doctor ; you are 
 going to be no such thing, and you must not 
 study a subject utterly useless, and even im- 
 proper, for a girl.' 
 
 ' Even improper for a girl.' Mrs. Mar- 
 shall, with all her strong common-sense, was 
 not emancipated sufficiently to think about 
 such a matter for herself And I was not 
 able to ask her. What is the guilt in the 
 name of a bone ? What propriety is outraged
 
 Lyntoii Abbott's Children. 69 
 
 by the mention of the designation of a 
 muscle 1 How, even, does it injure the deh- 
 cacy and modesty of a girl to know the 
 probable weight of her liver or brain ? How 
 will it hurt her to understand the needs of 
 her own digestive and respiratory apparatus ? 
 How, above all, can it be possible for any 
 natural operation to be ' improper V 
 
 Even if I could have asked her authorita- 
 tively all these pertinent questions, she would 
 probably have been deafened to any consi- 
 deration but the word of * Society.' So, with 
 a harsh phrase, are the noblest cliildren of 
 this world ruled ; and who will dare assert 
 that they are yet wiser than the children of 
 light ? 
 
 ' It is quite suitable for Marshall,' was the 
 only reply my eager protestations and en- 
 treaties could obtain. ^He is much interested 
 in the subject, and I do not see fit to inter- 
 fere with him, although it is not his particular
 
 70 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 study. Now, Henrietta, do not make me 
 cross ; take that book to your brother, at 
 once. Let me see,' consultmg her watch ; 
 *he is just now free from the Dean, and he 
 passes the whole of his leisure time in his 
 laboratory — you will find him there. You 
 must go through the kitchen-garden, and 
 down a narrow path at the extreme left-hand 
 corner. Tap at the door, and say I sent you. 
 Go at once, my dear.' 
 
 The impression made upon me by Mar- 
 shall's behaviour the first evening of my 
 arrival had somewhat passed off. If he took 
 an interest in medical subjects, so did I — and 
 this bond of union must go some way toward 
 making him like me. He was ^ in his labora- 
 tory,' too ; perhaps there was something there 
 which might interest me. On the whole, I 
 felt not unwilling to go in search of my 
 brother, even though the object of that search 
 was the yielding up of my treasured volume.
 
 Lynton Abhotfs Children. 71 
 
 I went to the passage leading to the kit- 
 chen, and called Crisp — I dared not whistle 
 for him — and my only friend and I started 
 off down the path together. 
 
 Crisp was overjoyed to see me ; he always 
 Avas, poor fellow. I suspect he moped a 
 little in my absence. But when he did get 
 me, he enjoyed it the more. He frisked 
 about, shaking his bushy tail almost out of 
 its socket, and uttering expressive yelps of 
 impulsive delight. 
 
 We duly found the large outhouse which 
 was appropriated to Marshall's private study. 
 Certainly, his aunt was mistaken when she 
 said he passed the whole of his leisure time 
 there, for he was not there now. I doubt 
 very much if Mrs. Marshall knew in the 
 least how the greater part of his time was 
 spent. 
 
 However, just as I was about to give him 
 up, and go back with my book to report the
 
 72 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 fact to my aunt, he returned. The young 
 gentleman had been out of the Deanery 
 grounds, for he came scrambhng up the wall, 
 out of the field which was beyond the kitchen- 
 garden. He put his head over the wall to 
 reconnoitre ; I immediately hailed him, and 
 he, after hanging there a moment to delibe- 
 rate, concluded to come over and face me. 
 
 I presume that the outward cordiality of 
 the reception I received from him was a 
 course dictated by policy. At all events, he 
 certainly did look no more scowlingly than he 
 could help, and even gave me, for the first 
 time, a cold insincere kiss, before he asked 
 me what I wanted. 
 
 * Aunt told me to come here,' I informed 
 him, ' and give you my '' Elhs's Anatomy." 
 She says she won't let me study it, and you 
 are fond of it ; but so am I.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' he said, taking the book. 
 Then, after a moment's pause, he added, in-
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 73 
 
 sinuatingly, 'I say, Harry, do you like learn- 
 ing anatomy V 
 
 * That I do !' I returned, overjoyed at the 
 mere possibility which this question seemed 
 to open. ^ Oh, Marshall ! will you show me 
 some of your books, and bones V 
 
 ' This is a dissecting-room,' said he, im- 
 pressively, then waited. 
 
 * The master used to let us get sheep's 
 hearts, and things like that, at home,' said I 
 
 * Aren't they curious ?' 
 
 ^ Would you like to come in it ?' he asked, 
 unheeding my interruption. 
 
 * Yes, please !' 
 
 ' Well, then — Karry,' sinking his voice, 
 
 * promise not to tell aunt that I wasn't here 
 when you came, and I will take you in, and 
 show you my museum.' 
 
 ' Oh I of course, I w^on't tell her,' I pro- 
 mised readily enough. 
 
 ^ You are quite sure — even if she asks jomV
 
 74 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 'Yes, quite. I don't tell stories, Mar- 
 shall/ 
 
 Hereupon he opened the door with a 
 small key, j)roduced from his pocket, and he, 
 Crisp, and I, passed in together. 
 
 The place was boarded, and had white- 
 washed walls. There were no windows in 
 the side, so that the room could not be pried 
 into from without ; but a large skylight ad- 
 mitted a sufficient quantity of light. There 
 were shelves on one side, filled with a number 
 of large glass bottles, containing various pre- 
 parations. Marshall was amiable enough — 
 for a purpose — to walk along the shelves 
 with me, explaining to me the contents of 
 some of the bottles. There was another 
 large shelf filled with books. 
 
 My father made Marshall the same liberal 
 allowance that he had granted each of his 
 sons at school ; so that my brother was able 
 to gratify this taste, expensive as it was.
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 75 
 
 My unfeigned interest and attention dis- 
 covered the softest corner of Marshall's hard 
 nature. He became quite friendly, and even 
 communicative to me, when he discovered 
 how much I knew, and how truthfully I en 
 joyed knowing. He was nearly eighteen 
 now, and had been sent to his uncle directly 
 after his fourteenth birthday, when I was 
 only seven. He knew very little, therefore, 
 about me; and was a good deal astonished 
 by what he was discovering. 
 
 ' How came you to begin to learn all this f 
 he asked, at lenofth. 
 
 ' Willie and I learnt together,' I replied ; 
 ' we are both going to be doctors.' 
 
 'Why, you can't, you little stupid,' inter- 
 posed my brother. 
 
 ' Can't I ? Why not? ' 
 
 * Why, you are a girl.' 
 
 ' Oh dear ! I wish I wasn't !' a wish I re- 
 peated many times after. ^ Aunt says so^
 
 76 Lynton Ahhott's Children. 
 
 too, but father always set Willie and me 
 tasks together. Why are girls never 
 •doctors V 
 
 To this question no reasonable reply could 
 be given ; and Marshall's only attempt thereat 
 was — 
 
 ' Because — they never are. And did the 
 master let you ever cut up anything V he 
 added. 
 
 * Oh yes!' I rephed ; 'that knife that I gave 
 you, he had made on purpose for me, that 
 it might have a long thin dissecting blade.' 
 
 Marshall produced the knife from his 
 pocket, and began to examine it, blade by 
 blade. It was a very great knife, the largest 
 blade being nine or ten inches long. I felt 
 no pang of envy as he looked it all over. 
 My only struggle had been at first ; the deci- 
 sion to resign it quietly once arrived at, I did 
 not waste further regret upon it. 
 
 * And how came you to study V I asked.
 
 Lynton Ahho^fs Children. 77 
 
 as he stood thus occupied. ' You are not 
 going to be a doctor, you know/ 
 
 ' No/ he said ; and his brow clouded down ; 
 the moody expression returned to his counte- 
 nance, his voice took another tone. * No ; 
 but I ought to be. It is all my interest — all 
 my pleasure. I have talent for this work 
 which will be completely wasted as a priest. 
 What right has my father to force us into 
 whatever profession he happens to choose.' 
 
 Here he caught sight of my wondering 
 face ; and the repression to which he was 
 habituated resumed its sway. He gave a 
 little lauorh, as thouo-h in scorn of himself for 
 being betrayed into expression ; then turned 
 his back to me, and stood quite still, looking 
 apparently at the open blade. 
 
 Crisp at this moment called my attention 
 by a little yelp. He had been running up 
 and down, and had found his way into a 
 chamber of horrors. The end of the place
 
 78 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 was boarded off, and some sacking was hung up 
 to form a kind of door. Through this Crisp 
 had penetrated ; through this I followed him 
 — suspecting no wrong — when I heard his 
 httle cr}^ 
 
 Another instant, and I was back at the 
 aperture. 
 
 ' Oh, Marshall, Marshall !' I cried, forget 
 ting, in my excitement, that he was the very 
 person who must know all about it. ' Here 
 are four poor little frogs, on a table, with 
 drawing-pins through their legs, and cut 
 about so dreadfully, and alive ! Oh ! do 
 come and kill them, poor little creatures ; 
 please do !' 
 
 His eyes went back into their depths, and 
 he became that deep violet colour which I 
 had seen his face once before. 
 
 ' Come away from there,' he growled. 
 
 But my eyes had grown accustomed to 
 the comparative obscurity of this place, and
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children, 79 
 
 I saw yet more — an unfortunate dog, on 
 whom, I suppose, the action of a poison was 
 being tried by my tender-hearted brother. 
 
 * And there is a poor dog here/ I continued, 
 excited and pitying. ^ It is dying in awful 
 agony — it's too bad to sj)eak. Crisp, Crisp ! 
 do keep away. Oh, it is writhing so horribly ! 
 Marshall, do, do come and put it out of 
 misery !' 
 
 Marshall came ; but for no such purpose. 
 He came to lay his hands on my shoulders to 
 move me away from the sight. I caught 
 hold of the boards and implored him, myself 
 in an agony of grief and rage, to mercifully 
 kill his victims. He was very strong, this 
 bony youth ; he quickly overpov\^ered me, and 
 lifted me through the aperture — then stood 
 looking down upon me, with a glare in his 
 far-away eyes. 
 
 * Marshall, do kill them !' I begged. 
 ' I shall not,' he said, slowly.
 
 80 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 ' I'm sure aunt doesn't know,' I cried. * I 
 will go straight and tell her !' 
 
 * You will do no such thing,' he said, rous- 
 ing himself at this, and grasping my arm 
 painfully. 
 
 ' I will !' reiterated I, with the firmness of 
 a martyr. 
 
 ' You shan't !' he said, with a fearful deli- 
 berateness. ^ I will keep you locked up here 
 until you promise not to say a word about 
 it to anyone. You had no right to go in 
 there.' 
 
 * Aunt knows where I am,' I retorted. 
 ' She will send to look for me at luncheon- 
 time.' 
 
 ' I will murder you, if you do not promise I' 
 he said between his teeth. But, through it 
 all, his countenance remained fixed in calm 
 stolidity. While I blazed in my fury, his 
 wrath was the white heat of burning metal. 
 Only his eyes flamed far away, his skin kept
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 81 
 
 that violet hue, and his teeth were tightly 
 set. 
 
 * No ; you won't murder me/ said I, indig- 
 nation extinguishing all prudence ; ^ because 
 if you do you will be hanged, and you will 
 be afraid of that. Cruel people are always 
 cowards !' 
 
 He released my arm, which his grasp had 
 completely benumbed, so suddenly that the 
 quick rush of the blood made me scream per- 
 force, and caught up poor little Crisp, who 
 was barking in amazement. In an instant 
 my brother had clutched me again, this 
 time by the hair, and, holding my poor dog 
 up as high as he could, again demanded a 
 promise of my silence. Personal ill-usage 
 only had the result of increasing my deter- 
 mination. But the imploring eyes of my 
 loved dog — my only friend and intimate in 
 this place — fixed upon me, sobered me. I 
 tried to come to terms. 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 'Will you promise not to do anything 
 more like that V I asked. 
 
 ' No,' said Marshall, with a sneer, ' I shall 
 not promise.' 
 
 ' Then I will tell aunt !' said I, firmly. 
 
 ' Take care,' he hissed, * because I am going 
 to kill your dog instead of you, if you don't 
 promise.' 
 
 ' Oh, Marshall !' I exclaimed. ' Put him 
 down. My poor Crisp !' 
 
 ' Will you promise V 
 
 I did not believe he would really injure 
 my beloved, my darling friend, or I might 
 have given in at once. But I thought of the 
 poor creatures in the next room, and answered 
 desperately : 
 
 ' I will never promise !' 
 
 He lifted my Crisp up to the full height of 
 his arm, immediately he heard my answer, 
 and flung the poor creature with all his 
 strength on to the ground.
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 83 
 
 ' Oh, I won't tell— I won't tell 1' I cried, 
 dropping on my knees, as lie released his 
 hold on me. 
 
 But T Avas too late. Two great strides over 
 the room, and he reached my open knife ; in 
 an instant, he was back with its long blade 
 bare and gleaming, and sheathed it to the 
 very hilt in the dog's side. 
 
 The sharp stab seemed to arouse Crisp 
 from the stunning effect of his fall. He began 
 to utter loud and piercing cries, and to writhe 
 in agony. His poor eyes found me, pre- 
 sently, and seemed mutely reproachful and 
 imploring. 
 
 For myself — I cannot tell what I did. I 
 also gave a loud shriek as I saw the dreadful 
 deed ; then my voice, and my remembrance, 
 and consciousness departed together. I went 
 up to him, flung myself on the ground 
 beside him, and lifted his agonised body into 
 my lap. He must have died soon ; for the 
 
 6—2
 
 84 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 blood poured from the deep wound. But 
 I cannot in the least guess how long I sat 
 there, stunned, watching the quivers of his 
 dying breaths. When the last one came — 
 when he stretched himself out, and was silent 
 and stiff upon inj lap — silent for evermore l 
 — I have a vague remembrance of seeing 
 Marshall, as through a mist, and far away^ 
 placidly wiping his hands upon a towel. 
 Then I know that he came up to me and 
 lifted me right off the ground, and placed me, 
 still grasping my dead pet tightly, on the 
 ground outside his door. Then I know that 
 he locked up his house of mourning, pocketed 
 his key, and walked away, with just the same 
 indifference and gloom upon his sullen face as 
 was commonly there visible. 
 
 And I know that I sat upon the ground, 
 gazing with dull glazed eyes upon my dead 
 favourite, for very, very long before tears 
 came to my relief — and for longer still before
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children, 85 
 
 the servants sent in search of me took away 
 my dead sorrow by force, and led me into the 
 house — and that I will not profane my 
 intense, even if childish emotions, by at- 
 tempting to describe them in feeble words. 
 
 But I know that, from that day, I dreaded 
 my brother Marshall with the dread of an 
 intense horror !
 
 86 Lynton Ahhotfs Chilch 
 
 en. 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 Did you ever hear of that poor man who was 
 the possessor of a vahiable dog, for which he 
 might have obtained a large sum of money ; 
 and of how, when that man was starving, a 
 rich man came to him, and offered him a 
 great bribe to part with his friend ? 
 
 ' I will sell you my dog, sir/ said the un- 
 fortunate man to his tempter ; ' but there is 
 one thing I cannot sell you. When you take 
 him away you must please contrive to leave 
 me the wag of his tail /' 
 
 I tell you that story — in which, if you be 
 so far gifted by nature, you will find infinite 
 pathos, or over which you may laugh, if you be
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 87 
 
 insensible enough — to spare myself the thank- 
 less task of expatiating on my own sorrow 
 over my murdered dog. I had lost not only 
 the sight of him, the knowledge of his exis- 
 tence, but also the wag of his tail. Those 
 who can understand my loss at all will need 
 that I should add no more. Those who 
 judge the death of a dog of no account — for 
 are there not plenty more dogs in the world ? 
 — might hear me talk to them of dumb sym- 
 pathy, of unfailing affection, of disinterested 
 devotion, for an hour, and would not under- 
 stand that ^ w^aof of his tail ' when I had done, 
 but would kindly pity the childish hyper- sen- 
 sitiveness of getting hysterical over so slight 
 a thing as — just one dog less in the world ! 
 
 My aunt had sent to find me that I might 
 be dressed to go to luncheon, w^hich was my 
 dinner-time. But Parks decided that I was 
 only fit to go to bed ; and on her report Mrs. 
 Abbott came in to see me. She felt my
 
 88 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 hands, and looked at my eyes ; called me her 
 * poor child/ and confirmed Parks' dictum. 
 
 So I went to bed, and stayed there, in a 
 low-feverish condition, for the next week — 
 on the fourth day of which the dean and my 
 brother came to my bedside, with Mrs. Mar- 
 shall. The dean was going on the Continent 
 for the remaining two months of the year ; 
 and my brother was accompanying him on 
 this tour, to obtain the final advantage accru- 
 ing to him from his eminent relative's guar- 
 dianship ; when he returned, the preparations 
 for his matriculation at Oxford would be 
 commenced. I accepted dumbly the dean's 
 solemn pat on the head and benediction, but 
 when my brother approached to touch me 
 with his cruel hand, and lay his hypocritical 
 lips on mine, energy awoke, and I buried my 
 head under the clothes. 
 
 Mrs. Marshall protested gravely and in 
 vain ; and she was far too wise to insist upon
 
 Lynton Ahhott's Children. 89 
 
 my receiving the unwelcome farewell caress. 
 So my brother Marshall in his boyhood 
 passed out of my sight for ever. Before I 
 saw him again, he had taken the second step 
 in the prints of the feet of his uncle, the 
 dean ; when next I need to write of him, he 
 was M.A., a holy priest, and vicar of the 
 family living at Apsland. 
 
 The bishops and pastors of the flock lay 
 hands suddenly on no man, but faithfully and 
 wisely make choice of men with rich fathers. 
 When Marshall Abbott appears in my life 
 a,nd my story again, he wall be sanctified by 
 this wise imposition of apostolic hands, which 
 he will have been chosen to receive for three 
 very good and sufficient reasons : videlicet — 
 Primus : He was not the eldest son of his 
 father. Secundus : Nevertheless, his father 
 could pay for this younger son the sum of 
 money which is the only essential to ' fitness ' 
 for the sacred ministry. Tertius : There was
 
 90 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 a living * in the family,' and ' the family ^ 
 possessed interest in the disposal of many 
 another ecclesiastical good thing. Could 
 better reasons why Marshall Abbott should 
 duly be given by his bishop authority to 
 remit and retain the sins of his fellow- 
 mortals possibly be imagined ? 
 
 When I was sufficiently recovered from my 
 attack of illness to go downstairs again, I 
 found that I had, unconsciously, been occu- 
 pying a sort of mild Damocles' position. 
 Mrs. Marshall had a lecture in store for me^ 
 which she had waited all these days to 
 deliver. 
 
 If I might have spoken to my aunt when. 
 I saw her immediately after I had been hor- 
 rified by the sight of Marshall's cruelties, I 
 should probably have poured forth at once 
 the whole story, and implored pity for the 
 sufferers, and vengeance on the criminal. 
 But she, careful for my health, had closed
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 91 
 
 my lips, bidding me not talk about it — by 
 which she meant Crisp's death — until I was 
 better. 
 
 Now, in the meanwhile, things altered 
 their aspect in my eyes, in various ways. 
 There was a little speech from Parks, mo 
 mentarily incautious, for one thing. When 
 she was proceeding to undress me for bed, 
 she saw my arm, and suddenly exclaimed : 
 
 ' Good gracious ! What is the matter with 
 your arm, miss V 
 
 ' I don't know,' I answered wearily : to lie 
 down and be still presented itself at that 
 moment to my eyes as the summum honum. 
 I did not want to tell my affairs to Parks, 
 still less did I covet the labour, an herculean 
 one to me at the best of times, of evading 
 questions. But Parks was undauntable. 
 
 ' Your arm up at the top is one mask of 
 bruises, poor little thing ! Who did it, 
 miss V
 
 92 Lynton Abbott'' s Children. 
 
 * Marshall did/ I answered apathetically. 
 
 ' Dear ! The young brute I' said the wait- 
 ing-woman, indignantly. ' I'll call Mrs. 
 Abbott, and show her this moment 1' 
 
 ' No, don't,' I implored, catching her dress; 
 * don't tell her anything about it. Do let me 
 lie down, Parks.' 
 
 Parks soliloquised half a moment ; then 
 her rapid fingers returned to my strings and 
 buttons, and thus her indignant murmurings 
 explained her compliance with my request : 
 
 * Well ! I may almost as well — for if I do 
 go and bring her, that young fellow is safe to 
 have some fine story on his tongue -tip, to put 
 himself all right with, and make you out all 
 in the WTong. Mrs. Abbott always believes 
 what he likes to say, too. I can't make it 
 out ! If he was anybody else, she'd see 
 through him in a minute, but, somehow, 
 hes found out how to throw dust in her 
 •eyes. There I get into bed, dear. Does
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 9B 
 
 that pain you ? Ill fetch some of Mrs. 
 Abbott's toilet vinegar, and put it on for 
 you/ 
 
 Partly this speech, which I had not for- 
 gotten, partly the conviction that no torture 
 could be being carried on while the tor- 
 mentor was away, and partly the fact that I 
 should have perforce to tell my tale like a 
 sneak, behind the back of him I accused, had 
 already weakened the strength of my charo-e. 
 Mrs. Abbott's lecture, under the circum 
 stances, was a sort of carrying the war into 
 the enemy's country. This wounded my 
 pride, and Marshall was safe from even my 
 accusations. 
 
 ' Henrietta,' began my aunt, ' I don't in- 
 tend to scold you, my dear, because I think 
 this illness will in itself be sufficient punish- 
 ment; but I must not let the matter pass 
 over without warning you against giving way 
 to such ungovernable temper. If you rush
 
 94 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 into such passions, and make yourself ill 
 about such mere trifles ' 
 
 ' He killed my dear little Crisp I' I inter- 
 rupted. ' It wasn't a trifle !' 
 
 'You are sorry to lose your dog, no doubt,' 
 agreed my aunt, ' but you should have shown 
 moderation about even your grief for an 
 animal. But what I am blaming you for is 
 the violent rage against your brother in 
 which you indulged, so that you even would 
 not say '' Good-bye " to him, when he had 
 only done what was absolutely necessary, and 
 for every one's safety.' 
 
 ' Why did he say he did it, aunt V 
 
 ' Your brother's eyes are more experienced 
 than yours,' went on Mrs. Marshall, pursuing 
 the track towards the revelation of Marshall's 
 story. ' A little girl like you cannot be sup- 
 posed to know much. Symptoms which you 
 cannot see tell a very certain tale to him. 
 He says that your dog had every symptom of
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 95 
 
 hydrophobia, and that it was a mercy that he 
 had not bitten some one before then. There, 
 now, let us say no more about it.' 
 
 And we did not say any more about it. 
 That so stupendous a falsehood should 
 have been conceived in my brother's brain 
 was so alarming a fact that I was content to 
 be silent upon it. A bitter sense of injustice 
 filled my soul. I had a conviction that if I 
 told the whole of my tale this injustice would 
 be intensified by precisely the amount of the 
 wrong I had suffered. No doubt, Marshall 
 had prepared the whole ground for himself in 
 his aunt's mind. Feeling silently certain 
 that my aunt would either disbelieve or 
 disregard my story if she heard it, I 
 shrunk from inflicting upon myself the 
 extra pain of knowing that she absolutely 
 had so disbelieved and disregarded. There 
 is a mighty difference between a prove4 
 and an unproved mental certainty. In short.
 
 96 Lynton Ahhotfs Children, 
 
 my pride dreaded a violent blow ; and I 
 perceived no sufficient reason for subjecting' 
 it to the danger, for the childish mind has no 
 appreciation of fulfilling a public duty by 
 acting as informer. So I suffered in silence, 
 and said never a word to shake Marshall's 
 position in the opinion of Mrs. Abbott. 
 
 Two months passed rapidly away. Mrs. 
 Marshall worked, no doubt, a very distinct 
 alteration in my habits and manners. She 
 kept me with her constantly, and twenty 
 times a day something in my manners, or 
 some form of speech, were stigmatised by 
 her as 'boyish and unladylike.' By degrees^ 
 I suppose, I improved, for one day, shortly 
 before Christmas, my aunt asked me, did I 
 know that I was now much more like other 
 girls ? and added that she thought I might 
 begin the new year by going to school. 
 
 School had no terrors to my uninitiated 
 mind ; and though I had come to like Mrs.
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 97 
 
 Marshall in these two months, it was only in 
 a sedate quiet way — a liking which could be 
 very content to leave the daily presence of 
 its object. On the other hand, I had a 
 strong and pressing reason for wishing to 
 leave Dalestonbury. The dean and my 
 brother were expected home before very 
 long. How I dreaded meeting Mar- 
 shall again can scarcely be imagined. I 
 would have been glad to go, even had I 
 anticipated being unhappy at school, simply 
 that I might avoid the presence of my 
 brother. 
 
 It was, therefore, with satisfaction that I 
 received my aunt's intimation a little while 
 later, that she had selected a school for me ; 
 that said school re-opened on the 15th of 
 January, and that she herself would take me 
 there, and commit me to the hands of my 
 governess. 
 
 That she communicated her decision to my 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 Lyntnn Ahhott's Children, 
 
 father I learnt by the next little letter which 
 I had from my dear Willie. His untidy 
 affectionate notes were very precious to re- 
 ceive. Every little detail about my pets com- 
 mitted to his charge, the tiniest scrap of 
 home news, was very sweet to my palate. 
 At the end of one of his delightful little 
 scrawls, which came a few days after my 
 aunt had told me the date fixed for the com- 
 mencement of my school life, Willie informed 
 me that he was to go to Bugby, his four 
 teenth birthday having arrived, a little time 
 after I should have gone to my school ; and 
 we mutually grieved that we were not to be 
 at Eugby together. I did not know then, as 
 I afterwards learnt, that my father never ex- 
 pressed an opinion upon, never even noticed, 
 Mrs. Marshall's communication to him of the 
 steps she proposed taking for my education. 
 He only recognised my existence by the very 
 practical method of continuing to transfer
 
 Lynton Abbot fs Children. 99 
 
 from his own account to my uncle's, at their 
 several bankers', the two hundred pounds an- 
 nually which he had before supplied for my 
 elder brother's expenses. At home, I learned 
 from my brothers, he mentioned my name 
 rarely, and then only as though speaking of 
 one of his absent boys. 
 
 The school which my aunt had selected for 
 me was at one of the most exclusive of the 
 north-eastern watering-places. It was large, 
 expensive, and celebrated for its wonderfully 
 minofled solid anel fashionable teachino^. In 
 the selection of my school, Mrs. Marshall 
 displayed the sound judgment which was 
 ordinarily her characteristic. 
 
 Her final advice was delivered to me just 
 before her departure, when we had had an 
 interview with Mrs. Worthington, the 
 school's principal, in a drawing-room with a 
 painfully sombre carpet, and containing a piano 
 with a painfully brilliant silking, on top of 
 
 7—2
 
 100 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 which stood a green obehsk that turned out 
 to be called a metronome : containing chairs, 
 somewhat ancient, with cross-looking twisted 
 legs ; and having a new paper on the wall, the 
 scent of whose paste hung about, and whose 
 colours matched neither carpet's, nor piano's, 
 nor chair's colour. Not the principal's drawing- 
 room, by any means ; but the room used by the 
 dancing-mistress to teach the pupils how to 
 enter and depart through a door, and how to 
 pilot themselves with grace among a confusion 
 of chairs, and the room where the pupils 
 received their occasional visitors ; for both 
 which purposes it was fittingly a room 
 wherein was not any furniture in plenty, 
 save and except only looking-glasses — reflec- 
 tors which served alike to show the young 
 ladies their own defects in deportment in 
 dancing-mistress moments, and to destroy all 
 feeling of privacy, and consequently all readi- 
 ness of private speech, in visitors' moments.
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 101 
 
 My aunt spoke, and across her words broke 
 the melodious notes of three other pianos, 
 €ach playing its individual tune : 
 
 * Henrietta, darling, make up your mind to 
 be comfortable here ; learn how to behave, 
 above all things ; make very few intimate 
 friends ; forget all about anatomy ; and don't 
 squander your money foolishly/
 
 102 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 I AM not going to write a story of my school- 
 life. I think it necessary to give this warn- 
 ing at once ; because if I do not, I stand a 
 very fair chance of having my volume closed 
 at this point, and carried back to the circu- 
 lating library, with the remark with which a 
 lady, who had the most infinitesimal portion 
 of brain that a human cranium can exist over, 
 once returned to me Grace Greenwood's 
 charming * Recollections,' which I had lent to 
 her : 
 
 ' I want something more mature /' 
 And yet, if it be true that genius is but 
 originality, and if I desired to make good a
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 103 
 
 claim to genius, I ivoulcl write a novel of 
 school-girl life. Mr. Thackeray, in the pre- 
 face to ' Pendennis,' says that no English 
 writer, since Fielding, has dared to truthfully 
 depict the life of a young man. Who has 
 dared, or will dare, to tell the still more un- 
 known story of the thoughts, words, and 
 ways of a hundred and fifty girls gathered 
 together ? 
 
 Witty George Augustus Sala has declared 
 the futility of a man's essaying the task. The 
 clerical president may guess, the visiting phy 
 sician must know, something of the inner life 
 of these temples of fashionable learning. 
 But can even they give the reverse of the 
 picture which sweet Mrs. Hemans saw when 
 she glanced into a girls' schoolroom ? Let it 
 not be feared that I will attempt to do so. 
 
 A little of the detail of my school-life 
 belongs to my tale, and must be told in con- 
 sequence.
 
 104 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 For a fortnight after my arrival at school, 
 there was a good deal of confusion. More of 
 the pupils came every day, and the whole 
 work of the school was very irregularly done. 
 I was handed about from class to class, and 
 found myself in a state of great uncertainty as 
 to whether I liked or disHked school. Natu^ 
 rally proud and haughty, I had scarcely 
 spoken to one of the girls with whom I ate 
 and walked ; certainly, had not made the 
 slightest approach to friendship with any- 
 one. 
 
 By the end of this time, however, the 
 school began to get into order. Mrs. Worth- 
 ington received the report of her various 
 subordinates on each new pupil, and we were 
 now instructed which teacher we were to be 
 under in the different subjects. 
 
 In music, needlework, and various other 
 minor graces, I had to submit to go to be 
 taught in company with girls much younger
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 105 
 
 than myself; but in the English class for 
 which I was found fitted, my fellow-pupils 
 were, without exception, my seniors. It was 
 amongst these girls, however, that I must 
 expect to find my companions. 
 
 The position in the English class — that is to 
 say, in every subject for which there was not 
 a special outdoor professor — determined the 
 general rank in the establishment. The co- 
 pupils of one English teacher sat together at 
 the table which she headed in the dining- 
 room, and slept under her general supervision, 
 in companies of six in each large bedroom. 
 
 For the first two weeks I had slept alone 
 in a small room opening into one occupied by 
 the three articled pupils ; but when Mrs. 
 Worthington called my name to join Miss 
 Morris's EngUsh class, I was removed also to 
 Miss Morris's table, and to one of her bed- 
 rooms. 
 
 Mrs. Worthington, having separated the
 
 lOG Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 3''oung' ladies who were judged Avorthy of 
 becoming Miss Morris's pupils, led them her- 
 self to their new teacher's class-room, where 
 her old scholars were already gathered. The 
 principal opened the door, and, as ^ve filed 
 in, ceremonially introduced each of us to our 
 teacher, by name. Then she immediately 
 departed, and we were bidden by Miss 
 Morris to sit all together at the foot of the 
 class until we had ' earned better places.' 
 
 I had not seen Miss Morris before ; she 
 had only returned to her duties on the pre- 
 vious Saturday. She was henceforth to be a 
 very considerable person in my life, and I 
 therefore surveyed her with much interest,. 
 and a little anxiety. 
 
 Externally, the result was entirely satisfac- 
 tory. Miss Morris was rather short, and slight. 
 Her features were very clearly and sharply 
 defined, without the least appearance of 
 being pinched. Her hair was fair; and the
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 107 
 
 noticeable expression of her eyes was their 
 perfect cahii. If Miss Morris had been an 
 indolent member of the gr ancle monde, I sup- 
 pose that her eyes would have been either 
 weary or scornful in their silent expressive- 
 ness'; as she was instead a troubled and ener- 
 getic worker for her daily bread, their still, 
 keen clearness conveyed only the idea of per- 
 fect calm. 
 
 The commencing lesson of this day hap- 
 pened to be English history. The pupils 
 ought all to have read over in their books 
 the evening before that portion which was ta 
 form the subject of the morning lesson. Now, 
 therefore, our books were not to be opened ;. 
 instead of that, the teacher sitting in her 
 place in our midst, having her book open, but 
 never glancing at it, gave us, in clear concise 
 language, and with an impressiveness that 
 made inattention impossible, a resume of the 
 subject on which the class was then engaged.
 
 108 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 Then she began to question her pupils, com- 
 mencing at the head. 
 
 When a girl could not answer the question 
 she was asked, she had not to exchange her 
 position in the class for that of the one who 
 did reply to it, however low down it might 
 be, but simply went into the place of the one 
 next beneath herself By this means, I 
 know that complete justice was done. A 
 temporary failure of memory never con- 
 demned a girl to a position very inferior to 
 that which she really merited ; while, at the 
 same time, a girl who scarcely ever lost a 
 place rose slowly, but surely, to her proper 
 position at or near the head of the class. 
 This was a peculiar arrangement of Miss 
 Morris's own. I learned that it did not 
 obtain in any other English class. 
 
 Very quickly when this latter part of the 
 lesson began, a peculiarity became apparent 
 to me. Just what there was uncommon, I
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 10^ 
 
 did not discover for a considerable time : but 
 as this is to be the only chapter devoted to 
 my school-life, and as my teacher was so 
 remarkable a woman, and unquestionably had 
 so great an influence in the formation of my 
 character that I cannot resist giving at 
 least an outline sketch of her strong indivi- 
 duality, I will write here what I did not 
 know for some time later. 
 
 It was a rule of the school that no 
 practical enforcement of her laws should be 
 permitted to any teacher. Even the inflic- 
 tion of a short additional task for mis- 
 behaviour might not be given. Every fault,, 
 if the teacher desired it noticed, must be re- 
 ported to the principal, and was punished or 
 forgiven at her discretion. 
 
 I know that many of the scholars were 
 ^ received into the establishment to fill a few 
 vacancies on greatly reduced terms,' as the 
 prospectus put it ; I know also that the
 
 110 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 friends of the richer pupils frequently made 
 presents to the principal ; nevertheless, I by- 
 no means assert that any other motive than a 
 wish to secure a certainty of justice dictated 
 the rule I have mentioned. 
 
 But its existence, and the decision with 
 which Mrs. Worthington enforced it, dismiss- 
 ing instantly any teacher infringing it, were 
 very unpleasant and inconvenient facts to 
 those much-tried ladies. Miss Morris alone, 
 of all the teachers under whom I was from 
 the beginning to the end of my sta}^ there, 
 seemed competent to rule on these conditions 
 without either difficulty to herself or de- 
 moralisation to her class. 
 
 Her weapon was satire ; keen and stinging 
 as a whip of fine cords. Always so delicate 
 and refined that its strength was often not 
 instantly perceptible, but only brought a 
 sudden flush of understanding to its victim's 
 cheek when repeated by memory ; yet so
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. Ill 
 
 teen, and often so pointed, that I never 
 knew a girl whose stupidity and self-compla- 
 cency it could not finally succeed in piercing. 
 Her voice had a particularly clear calm tone 
 in saying these severe things, which was to 
 her irony precisely what the steely shine is to 
 the surgeon's lancet — the cold glitter draw- 
 ing the attention of a watcher to the eflPect of 
 the cut. 
 
 In addition to this, she had a wonderful 
 power of winning the attachment of those 
 who were often with her. I have mentioned 
 that all her other pupils were considerably 
 my seniors. The girls — almost young women 
 — who thus surrounded her were just capable 
 of appreciating her mental excellences. 
 
 The devotion which they, with very few 
 exceptions, poured upon her was one of the 
 most singular things I have ever known. 
 The prouder, the more reserved, and the 
 more intellectual the nature of a oirl, the
 
 112 Lynton Ahhott's Children. 
 
 more firmly fixed became the influence of 
 Miss Morris over her; and the long conversa- 
 tions which the teacher would hold with the 
 pupils out of school hours, so far from prov- 
 ing that familiarity breeds contempt, aided 
 and ensured earnest attention and watchful 
 eagerness to please from the girls in 
 class. 
 
 That which I felt existing in her circle on 
 this morning, and which I knew had not 
 been present in any one of the many other 
 classes in which I had been temporarily 
 placed during the preceding fortnight, w^as 
 the result of these two individualisms of the 
 teacher. Her old pupils were so uncommonly 
 anxious to obtain her praise ; a word of ap- 
 proval, given in the low earnest tone which 
 marked it out from her satirical commendation, 
 seemed to confer so much pleasure, and there 
 was such a total absence of w^hat I should at 
 the time have termed 'bullying,' that the
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. ' 113 
 
 difference could not fail to be felt by the 
 most careless school-girl. 
 
 The first three of the class answered with 
 perfect correctness the questions put to them. 
 The third was especially long and difficult. 
 
 ' Evidently you have not lost your memory 
 in the vacation/ said the teacher, with a very 
 sweet smile moving her lips; 'but Miss 
 Grey and Miss Andrews do not intend you 
 to conquer them easily, you see.' 
 
 Which few words brought a gratified look 
 to the faces of all three for the remainder of 
 the lesson. 
 
 The questions passed down the class with 
 varying results in individual cases, till at length 
 the teacher reached the last of the old pupils. 
 This was a slight girl, with a profusion of hair 
 of an undecided pale tint, and a peculiar way of 
 glancing through her downcast lashes. Miss 
 Morris addressed her as ' Miss Manseargh/ 
 and put to her a question upon a point which 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 had been especially dwelt upon in her address. 
 But the girl stood dumb. 
 
 * The answer is not written on the floor, 
 Miss Manseargh,' said the teacher presently ; 
 * if you do not know, be good enough to look 
 toward me, and tell me so.' 
 
 Without obeying the request to lift her 
 eyes, Miss Manseargh answered in j)assion- 
 less tones, ^ I do not know. Miss Morris.' 
 
 The next girl — the first of the new ones — 
 replied correctly to this question, and took 
 the higher place. Instead of passing over 
 Miss Manseargh, as I knew she had done 
 over those who had before failed to answer a 
 question. Miss Morris immediately put to 
 her a second query. For sole reply, the 
 girl folded her hands and looked upon 
 them. 
 
 ' Miss Manseargh's soul has mounted from 
 her boots to her finger-nails,' said Miss Morris 
 in her coldest tones ; ' we shall possibly get
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 115 
 
 it to her brain presently. Can the next 
 young lady give her this answer V 
 
 The next young lady could, and did, and 
 forthwith took the higher place. Miss 
 Morris instantly put a third question to 
 the unfortunate Miss Manseargh. She still 
 stood immovably silent. The scene was be- 
 ginning to impress me very much. It was 
 evidently no new contest. And, young as I 
 was, the contrast between the fiery wrath 
 held down behind the teacher's calm eyes 
 and clear voice, and the cool impassiveness of 
 the scholar, presented itself to me in full 
 force. 
 
 Another place was ceded by Miss Man- 
 seargh. 
 
 ' Of course, I am only complying with 
 your wishes in giving you these opportunities 
 of quickly reaching your old place,' said Miss 
 Morris, as she put to the silent student yet 
 another question.
 
 116 Lyrdon Abbott's Children. 
 
 The girl was noAv standing next to me. 
 The question was simply the date of a great 
 battle, which had been familiar to me for 
 years. Partly for her sake, partly for our 
 teacher's, I whispered the words into her ear. 
 Still she did not speak. 
 
 ' You may happen to discover that you 
 need all the abilities you possess to keep 
 your own place, Miss Abbott,' said Miss 
 Morris's voice (and I did not find out the 
 sting in the sentence for a long time). 
 * However,' she added, ^ as you have an- 
 swered the question, you can take the place.* 
 
 In a little time more. Miss Manseargh had 
 reached the foot of the class. There she 
 stayed for the rest of the time, never taking 
 a place. But every now and then Miss 
 Morris's attention seemed to turn itself to 
 her, and elicit a sharp remark. For ex- 
 ample, in rebuke to a girl who had lost 
 several places, Miss Morris said, —
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 117 
 
 ' You Avill be next tlie bottom presently, 
 Miss Dyer. You seem to intend to be next 
 to the worst in my class !' The accent con- 
 veyed the deepest meaning of the sentence 
 to the very worst, who would always foot the 
 list. 
 
 At twelve o'clock the classes ceased for a 
 time, and an hour's vacation came before 
 dinner. I went out into the garden, and sat 
 down upon one of its seats to re-read Willie's 
 last letter. It had come the day before, ac- 
 companied by a parcel containing a book. 
 Willie wrote : 
 
 ^ Father has bought you and me the same 
 new year's present. It is quite a new book, 
 and the master had it bound in leather on 
 purpose for us. As you are going to get out 
 of that Deanery, I hope you will not have it 
 taken away from you. Let us agree to read 
 it, and see which of us gets on farthest 
 against we meet. I told the master your
 
 118 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 anatomy was taken away, but he did not 
 speak.' 
 
 The book was a standard work on physio- 
 logy. I had determined to keep it in the 
 seclusion of my trunk, and fulfil Willie's 
 request to read it only when I could do so 
 privately. I have the book at this day. It 
 was my father's last gift of its kind to me. 
 I read it and studied it a great deal at in- 
 tervals, partly because it was my only 
 medical work, and really interested me, 
 partly to be able to tell Willie, when I 
 should see him next, that I had mastered it. 
 
 As I finished reading over his letter — col- 
 loquial and inelegant, but so very precious — I 
 discovered that some one had sat down on the 
 seat during my abstraction. I looked at that 
 some one, and saw it was Miss Manseargh. She 
 w^as quietly regarding me through her lashes, 
 and made some slio^ht remark, nothinor dis- 
 concerted, when I detected her in the act.
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children, 119 
 
 Her words, whatever they were, opened a 
 conversation. She drew me into a talk, and 
 presently we were chatting quite like old ac- 
 quaintances. 
 
 At last we got into the school-room. 
 
 ' Don't you like Miss Morris V I asked, 
 remembering the morning's scene. 
 
 ' No I I detest her,' said my companion, 
 using energetic words, but speaking quite 
 without energy. 
 
 ' What is that for ? and why didn't you 
 answer any questions V I asked, infringing 
 etiquette with impunity, in the absence of 
 my pastors and masters. 
 
 ^ She detests me, too,' said my new friend, 
 directing a most effective and plaintive glance 
 up at me through her lashes. ' T am obliged 
 to give her a good deal of trouble. But I 
 cannot help it ' — a sigh, and the interesting 
 air of a little penitent — ' I would give any- 
 thing to prevent worrying her so much.'
 
 120 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 ' Why,' said I, with unsophisticated bkmt- 
 ness, ^ you could surely have answered one of 
 all those questions — at least, if you had 
 learned your lesson V 
 
 ' She would put me down to the foot of 
 the class somehow or other in time,' said 
 Miss Manseargh pensively. ^ She Avants me 
 there, and I may as well go at once ! But I 
 do not mean that at all.' 
 
 ' What is it, then V I inquired. There 
 was something very pretty in the glances of 
 her grey eyes through her dark lashes. My 
 eyes were getting fascinated by them ; I was 
 learning to watch for them, to desire to draw 
 them out. Her undecided-coloured hair, too, 
 was arranged in a very unusual manner, that 
 was interesting to look at. Away from 
 Miss Morris, in the presence of this girl, 
 my ojDinion of the teacher became un- 
 certain. 
 
 ' I sleep in her bed,' said Miss Manseargh,
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 121 
 
 * and she has to have mj wrist tied to hers^ 
 with a strap.' 
 
 ' Jupiter !' said I, astonishment restoring 
 one of the expressions which my aunt had 
 carefully weeded out of my vocabulary. 
 
 * What on earth is that for V 
 
 ' I walk in my sleep ! — that is to say, I 
 might do. I have done a few times, and 
 they are afraid that I might get into some 
 danger in my sleep. I am in Miss Morris's 
 room, and, of course, she has to take the 
 trouble. But she dislikes me very much 
 because of it.' 
 
 * What a shame !' said I, indignantly, 
 swallowing the whole story. ^ Why don't 
 you sleep with one of the girls instead V 
 
 * None of them would take so much 
 trouble for me/ she replied, with another of 
 her glances. ^ They would very likely be 
 frightened.' 
 
 ^/shouldn't be frightened,' I said haughtily.
 
 122 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 ' Oh, would you,' with half indifferent 
 rapture, ^ would you take the trouble ? Do 
 you know, I thought you and I would be 
 great friends. I thought so before I spoke 
 to you. And,' with tones of tenderness, ' I 
 want some one to be fond of me.' 
 
 After a little more talk, in the course 
 of which I learnt that my new acquaintance 
 was named Helen, that she w^as twelve 
 years old, and that her father was not alive, 
 I consented to go to Mrs. Worthington and 
 ask her permission to become night-keeper of 
 Miss Manseargh. 
 
 With considerable trepidation I followed 
 the directions of my new friend to the door of 
 Mrs. Worthington's private apartments. That 
 lady had evidently forgotten me, but found 
 out my name, and remembering my identity, 
 became gracious to me. 
 
 ' I should not object, dear,' she said, 'but 
 I cannot authorise it. The responsibility lies
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 123 
 
 ■upon Miss Morris, your teacher. If you ask 
 her, you may tell her that I gave my per- 
 mission, so far as I interfere with such ar- 
 rangements.' 
 
 I went back to Helen Manseargh and 
 reported progress. She appeared tolerably 
 satisfied, and told me that she knew which 
 bed Miss Morris had assigned me, and that 
 I had at present no bedfellow, and that I 
 should ask permission to undertake the 
 iiharge when my bed was pointed out to me 
 in the evening. When that time came, and 
 Miss Morris led her new pupils to the rooms 
 under her superintendence, I, in due course, 
 preferred my request. 
 
 Miss Morris stopped, and looked scru- 
 tinisingly at me ; then turned. 
 
 ^ Of course. Miss Manseargh, you have 
 asked Miss Abbott to undertake this V 
 
 ^ Yes, Miss Morris,' said Helen indif- 
 ferently ; ' but she will not think it very
 
 124 Lynton Ahhotfs Children, 
 
 great trouble.' There was nothing meaning, 
 nothing sarcastic, in her tones. Even if Miss 
 Morris had been Hkely to openly resent a 
 speech such as this, she would not have been 
 able to do so. 
 
 ' You must not permit yourself to be de- 
 ceived or imposed upon, dear Miss Abbott,* 
 said my teacher, fixing her eyes upon me 
 with a very sweet and tender expression. 
 * But as your bed is in my room, and I sleep 
 very lightly, I think this will be perfectly 
 safe ; you may do so, if you please.' 
 
 My heart sank a little ; but I thanked her 
 very earnestly, more for the kindness of her 
 tones than for the favour. 
 
 However, Helen Manseargh and I slept 
 thenceforward in one bed ; and I, not of a 
 temperament to make many friends, gradually 
 came to lavish all my immediate thoughts 
 and affection upon her. Not blindly, by any 
 means. Helen depended upon me, although
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children, 125 
 
 she was two years my senior. I quarrelled 
 for her, did all her work for her that was 
 possible, and helped her and stirred her up 
 to her own studies. I w^as repaid by her 
 glances, by her thanks, by her mere de- 
 pendence upon me. Nevertheless, I knew — 
 I felt at first, and in a few years became 
 analytically conscious — that she w^as very 
 weak, very selfish, very cold-hearted. Yet 
 I loved her with a strong, firm affection, and 
 only saw her faults to shield her from their 
 consequences. 
 
 Very soon I found how she had misrepre- 
 sented Miss Morris to me. Miss Morris dis- 
 liked Helen, undoubtedly ; probably her fine 
 moral sense detected the pirl's faihno^s from 
 the first, while I was bound in affection 
 before I discovered them. But it is to me 
 at this day something of a psychological 
 puzzle how I could at one and the same time 
 admire Miss Morris with reverent appro-
 
 126 Lyrdon Ahhott's Children. 
 
 ciation, and give so warm and protecting an 
 affection to Helen Manseargh, who was so 
 totally incapable of understanding either her 
 teacher or me. 
 
 Under the influence of a fashionable 
 school, of this companion, and this teacher 
 and friend, the next seven years of my life 
 passed without any great events.
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 127 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 It is seven years since Helen Manseargh 
 and I, Henrietta Abbott, met, for the first 
 time, in the class-room downstairs. Time 
 has built up these seven years by moments ; 
 and in like manner he increases the stature 
 and development of the children of men. 
 We who stand in this upper room of Athena 
 House are no longer the children who an- 
 swered seven years ago in its class-rooms to 
 the same names as we do now ; but youngs 
 women, albeit only school-girls still. 
 
 There are no seven years of so great 
 development, so complete change, as those 
 which separate twelve from twenty. These
 
 128 Lynton Ahuott's Cldldren. 
 
 wonderful years ! How tliey round the 
 arms, define the bust, clear out the features, 
 and work -a revolution in thoughts, feelings, 
 and desires ! A portion of this time has 
 passed over our heads, and that which was 
 only foreshadowed and predicted by child- 
 hood is now fixed and certain for evermore — 
 a character. 
 
 All through these seven years, Helen 
 Manseargh and I had remained fast friends ; 
 had slept in each other's arms, and had held 
 as one common stock our confidences, our 
 stores, and our raiment. I knew that this 
 arrangement was, so far as material be- 
 longings went, highly advantageous to 
 Helen. My adornments and my purse, 
 always placed freely at her service, far ex- 
 ceeded hers in value and quantity. But I 
 rejoiced in my superior wealth only because 
 it gave me the happiness of being instru- 
 mental in her pleasure. When I spent an
 
 Lynton Ahhoifs Children. 129 
 
 evening in altering the disposition of the 
 trimming on one of my costly hats, that the 
 teachers might not recognise it as mine ^yhen 
 it should adorn Helen's head at church, or 
 when I gave her some j)i'esent, expensive by 
 comparison with my resources, I was far 
 more than repaid by a slight embrace, enthu- 
 siastic for her, by a look from her eyes — 
 sleepy, but thrilling — up through her eye- 
 lashes, and by being told in her low tones, 
 Avith a dash of melancholy in them, that I 
 was the dearest thing in the w^orjd. 
 
 Helen was poor. She had acknowledged 
 this to me, with her peculiar proud, sorrowful 
 humility, very soon. But she took care to 
 impress upon me also that the poverty of her 
 mother was owing entirely to her father's 
 misfortunes, and the wickedness of those he 
 had trusted. Her family was old. Its pri- 
 vate history wound back until it reached a 
 monarch who lived and reigned over an Irish 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 130 Lynton AhhotCs Children, 
 
 province in days of antiquity. Some of 
 Helen's relatives Avere rich, too. It was a 
 bequest from one of them, her godmother, 
 that paid for her expensive education. 
 
 She had been about to leave school in ordi- 
 nary course more than a year before, when she 
 reached her eighteenth birthday. I felt dread- 
 fully unhappy at the thought of losing her daily 
 companionship ; and Helen had mentioned 
 to me how her mother grieved that it w^ould 
 be impossible for her to enter the society to 
 which her birth should admit her. Putting 
 these facts together, I appealed movingly to 
 my aunt Marshall. Helen passed the greater 
 part of the vacation preceding the one when 
 she should have left school at the Deanery 
 with me. She succeeded in making a very 
 good impression on Mrs. Marshall. My 
 aunt, by cautious inquiries, satisfied herself 
 of the relationship between Mrs. Francis 
 Manseargh and the Mansearghs of County
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 131 
 
 Kerry and County Cork, the Burkes of 
 Xerry, and a dozen others ; all grand people 
 enough, of high position, but whose relation- 
 ship to my poor Helen would never be of 
 any more advantage to her than the mere 
 connection implied. This important point of 
 identity certain, my aunt's benevolence came 
 into full play. When Helen went home to 
 her mother, who lived, in what style I knew 
 not, at a little Kentish watering-place, called 
 Rusport, she carried with her a very cere- 
 monious letter from Mrs. Marshall Abbott to 
 Mrs. Francis Manseargh, which said, in sub- 
 stance, that if Helen were permitted to re- 
 main with me at school for about a year and 
 a half longer, my aunt would then invite her 
 on a visit, and introduce her into society at 
 the same time as I appeared. The answer 
 came in an envelope sealed with the Man- 
 seargh crest, very large sized, and written on 
 the thickest of cream-coloured paper. It 
 
 9—2
 
 132 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 was somewhat lengthy, and gushing — ' cha- 
 racteristically national,' my aunt said, a little 
 cruelly. It accepted the offer gratefully. 
 The writer's relatives — here followed a long 
 list of names, headed by an Irish earl's, who 
 was about a seventh cousin — would all be 
 pleased to receive in their houses Francis 
 Manseargh's daughter, but none of them 
 were 23repared to chaperone her, and as the 
 writer's own circumstances prevented her 
 from doing so herself, she accepted Mrs. 
 Marshall Abbott's most generous offer with 
 the deepest gratitude of a fond mother. 
 
 There was a great deal more than this in 
 it ; numberless allusions to the author's own 
 family, and several paragraphs bemoaning 
 her hard fate in being excluded by fortune 
 from the position to which she was born. 
 Altogether, the letter seemed to give my 
 aunt an amused notion of the individuality 
 of Helen's mother. However, her birth, as
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 133 
 
 well as her marriage, gave her an unexcep- 
 tionable title to position, and democracy has 
 not yet shaken one atom the aristocratic 
 power of mere birth. 
 
 So Helen and I had stayed on together at 
 Athena House, continuing to mount from 
 class to class, and to change from room to 
 room, in company. For only about six 
 months after our first meeting had we con- 
 tinued to fasten one another's wrists to a long 
 strap when we were going to bed. Helen 
 had only been known to walk in her sleep 
 four or five times, each occasion being when 
 she was in some trouble, and concurrently 
 occupying a strange room. She had done so 
 last immediately after her father died, when 
 she first came to school ; but we soon decided 
 that there was no danger of its recurrence; 
 and, after about six months of intimacy, wo 
 appealed against our restriction to the head 
 authorities, and were freed therefrom on Miss
 
 134 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 Morris's responsibility. Helen had never 
 shown any disposition to sleep-walking since 
 that time, and we had all but forgotten that 
 ever she had done so. 
 
 On this particular evening, when our 
 friendship was of seven years' growth, Helen 
 and I were in an upper room of Mrs. Worth- 
 ington's establishment, preparing for dissipa- 
 tion — of the very mildest character, how^ever. 
 
 It was the thirteenth of June, and the day 
 of ''breaking-up" for the midsummer vacation. 
 A ticketed public distribution of half-yearly 
 prizes by the Lord Bishop of the Diocese had 
 taken place in the morning. In the evening 
 there was a soiree, to which the elder pupils 
 were invited to meet a select company of 
 neighbouring respectabilities, all of mature 
 age. Dissipation of the milk-and-waterish 
 type ; a very model of recreative tameness, 
 but dissipation nevertheless. 
 
 ' Helen, my child/ I said, discontentedly.
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children, 135 
 
 after manipulating vainly for several moments, 
 * it's no use ; pearls will not look well with, 
 your plaits, however I twist them.' 
 
 Helen took the candle in her hand, and 
 put her face close to the glass, bending her " 
 head from side to side to get a better view. 
 
 ' I haven't light enough,' she proclaimed. 
 ' Do step across and borrow Kitty Fuller's 
 candle for a moment.' 
 
 ' She'll be dressino- herself : she won't lend 
 it to me.' 
 
 * Well, but whose else could I have ? And 
 I must see myself, Harry. Go and ask her, 
 there's a darling ! Coax her, you know !' 
 
 Keluctantly I stepped across the passage, 
 and went in at the opposite door. A girl in 
 white bodice and petticoat sat stitching bugles 
 on to a band, her needle flying in a way that 
 proclaimed her haste. 
 
 * Kitty,' said I, ' lend me your candle for 
 two minutes, there's a sweet creature.'
 
 136 Lynton Abbott's Children. , 
 
 ^ Can't — no time — bring yours here ;' — not 
 raising her head from her work. 
 
 * It isn't for me alone ; — just one 
 minute.' 
 
 'Oh! you are dressing your dolly, are you? 
 Let dolly go with one hair out of place, for 
 once in the way.' 
 
 * Kitty,' pleadingly, 'don't tease ! Just one 
 half second.' 
 
 ' I tell you, you pay a great deal too much 
 attention to that baby of yours. I would 
 lend you the candle for yourself; but if Helen 
 Manseargh wants to contemplate her own 
 beauty while you act her waiting-maid, she 
 must come over here (and then I shall watch 
 the fun)' — the last words added in a stage 
 ' aside ' as I turned away. 
 
 ' Helen/ I said, re-entering our room, 'you 
 shouldn't send me to Kitty Fuller; she is 
 safe to say something aggravating,' 
 
 ' Hateful thing/ said Helen, placidly. 'Why,
 
 Lynton Abbotts Children, 137 
 
 you haven't brought the candle after all ! ' she 
 added in surprised tones. 
 
 ' She says that if you want it, you must go 
 over there.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I can't do that ; can I ? ' 
 
 ' No, of course not.' 
 
 ' What is to be done then, Harry dear ? ' 
 in tones expressive of the most plaintive 
 sorrow ; tones that moved my fond heart. ^ 
 
 ' 111 steal down to the kitchen and bribe 
 €ookey!' I exclaimed, boldly, after a moment's 
 hesitation. 
 
 My mistress had the grace to demur in the 
 following effective manner. 
 
 ' You dearest ! but I don't want you to 
 get into a bother ; Mrs. Worthington would 
 be very cross.' 
 
 ' I don't suppose anyone would meet me ; 
 they're all dressing.' 
 
 'It is giving you so much trouble; but, 
 really, I can't see myself by this light; and
 
 138 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 you will have to put on your dark dress again ; 
 but, then, if you get some, you will be able to 
 see better for yourself, won't you, dear '? ' 
 
 I was resignedly putting on again my thick 
 skirt, and as my generous, unselfish beloved 
 finished this speech, I opened the door quietly 
 and went away down the stairs. I have men- 
 tioned the incident because it was thoroughly 
 characteristic, a typical incident of our posi- 
 tion and our daily lives. It was no light 
 yoke under which I laboured ; no small bur- 
 den that my own freewill bound upon my 
 shoulders. In proud submission I served her 
 and did her will in all small things. At the 
 same time I was, and we both knew that I 
 was, her superior, mentally and morally. On 
 the rare occasions on which I asserted my 
 judgment against hers, she yielded at discre- 
 tion, with just such murmurings as a spoilt 
 child might have uttered. But in every-day 
 matters the power was hers, and ruthlessly
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 139 
 
 she used it. If Helen Manseargh retaiD her 
 fascination until she shall count fifty years, 
 I am certain that she never can have a lover 
 more devoted to her service, more subservient 
 to her slightest wish, than I, the lover of her 
 school days. 
 
 I accomplished my journey to the lower 
 regions in safety, and effected an exchange 
 between a piece of silver from my purse, and 
 a scrap of candle. By aid of the double il- 
 lumination, Helen ins2:>ected herself to her 
 own satisfaction, and coincided with my 
 opinion that pearls would not do. They took 
 away all the charm of her strange, undecidedly 
 shaded hair, and themselves looked dusky 
 and dirty beside it. So I twined some 
 artificial leaves in her plaits, and hung 
 a rosebud above her ear. When her attiring 
 was quite complete, she condescended to say 
 I was the best, and — I should be late if I 
 didn't be quick !
 
 140 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 I took the rejected string of pearls — they 
 belonged to me, by the way — and twisted 
 them around my own curls, to keep them 
 away from my face. The pure white beads 
 harmonised well with my dark hair, and 
 gained in whiteness by their setting. 
 
 * I had these pearls in my hair the last 
 time I saw Willie/ I said, smiling at myself; 
 'it was at Dalestonbury, last year, and I 
 remember it because he said he liked the 
 effect so much.' 
 
 ' How fond you are of Willie !' said Helen, 
 with the tinge of a sneer in her voice. ^ I 
 believe you love Willie a great deal better 
 than you do me, Harry.' 
 
 ' Don't talk nonsense, Helen,' I advised ; 
 ^ I'm very fond of you both. I haven't any 
 need to remember you when you are 
 always with me. I see dear Willie so 
 seldom.' 
 
 ' Will you see him this vacation V asked
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 141 
 
 Helen, with a little more interest than a 
 question of hers usually displayed. 
 
 ^ I am rather afraid not/ I replied, put ting- 
 in an earring ; ' that letter I had this morning^ 
 was from him — you can look at it, if you are 
 not too lazy to get it out of my pocket,' in- 
 terrupting myself. 
 
 ^ But I am.' Helen had bestowed herself 
 upon one of our chairs, with due regard to her 
 muslin, and had elevated her feet upon the 
 other to watch my dressing. ^ What did he 
 say?' 
 
 ' He has just had an honour bestowed upon 
 him. One of the physicians to the hospital 
 has just opened a small dispensary, and has 
 given the charge of it to him — -the charge of 
 one branch, that is.' 
 
 ' Keally ? Is that remarkable V 
 
 * Oh, it is a great honour, while he is still 
 a student in his second year.' 
 
 ' Rather a tiresome honour, I should say/
 
 142 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 remarks Indolence, from her extemporised 
 couch. 
 
 ' He doesn't think so, I can tell you. But 
 the fact is, he is not a student like most 
 young men are — just j^icking up the rudiments 
 of the study. He learnt the7n with me when 
 he was a boy of twelve, sitting in the big 
 arm-chair with me beside him at Apsland. 
 The seed that was planted then is growing 
 now. And he had a real love for the study, 
 just like I had, and has kept it up.' 
 
 *He has had special opportunities, this 
 paragon of brothers, has he not V 
 
 ' Oh yes ; he has been studying with our 
 uncle Henry all the time he has been reading 
 for that dreadful London University ex- 
 amination. And he passed that exam. — the 
 arts, you know — so brilliantly that I dare say 
 his professors have always kept him in view.' 
 
 ' Come here, and let me tie your velvet.' 
 Then, when I was kneeling on the ground
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 143 
 
 before her, ' He seems to empty his heart to 
 you, Harry. I suppose he will tell you all 
 his secrets, up to his falling in love.' 
 
 ' And he will then !' 
 
 ^Ah! stupide. You have jerked that 
 artistic bow untied in my fingers. How do 
 you know that he will V 
 
 ' I am as certain of that, my dear child, as 
 I am of my name.' 
 
 * Tiresome thing ! there was no need to 
 twist round like that to make your speech. 
 Go with your bow anyhow, if you cant curb 
 your energy for one moment. But, Harry, 
 you sent him those eternal slippers on his 
 twenty-first birthday, a week or two back, 
 didn't you 1 ' 
 
 ' Yes.' I groaned as I remembered the 
 elaborate pattern, every stitch of which senti- 
 ment had caused me to put in with my own 
 finofers. 
 
 * You don't suppose that he has got to that
 
 144 Lynton Ahbotfs Children. 
 
 mature time of life without ever falling in 
 love, do you?' 
 
 * Where is the shoe-horn for my slippers, 
 Helen r 
 
 ^ In the corner, behind you, Harry. Do 
 you seriously believe a man has got to twenty- 
 one years of age without falling in love ? 
 Don't put me off with shoe-horns, darling/ 
 
 I answered, struggling with obstinate white 
 kid, 'Willie has, at all events, my child. Some- 
 how or other, we seem not to be a falling-in- 
 Icrve family. Why, five, or even six, of my 
 brothers are old enough for that sort of thing, 
 and only Marshall has married ; Lynton is 
 actually getting on for thirty, and Aunt 
 Henry has been helping Aunt Marshall to 
 find him a wife for the last ten years, I 
 believe. The heir of Apsland might have 
 choice enough, I suppose ; but he isn't even 
 engaged yet. Here is your handkerchief, 
 dear.'
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 145 
 
 * Thanks, darling. What is the time ? ' 
 ' A quarter past eight. I am ready now. 
 We must go downstairs.' 
 
 This Helen prepared to do by requesting 
 me to find the buttonhook out of her top 
 drawer, and, like a sweetest, to fasten her 
 glove therewith ; and to tell her was her hair 
 quite smooth ; and, like a benevolent darling, 
 to lift the chair from under her feet; after 
 which we went down to the drawing-room 
 arm-in-arm. 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A ROOM which was a blaze of light, a furnace 
 of heat, a Babel of confusion, was the draw- 
 ing-room to which we wended our way. Mrs. 
 Worthington, arrayed in all her glory, was 
 the first individualisable person. She was 
 posted just inside the door, and her coun- 
 tenance when she beheld us assumed a pecu- 
 liar mixture of the expression of a hostess 
 receiving guests, and a governess-principal 
 scrutinising the practical result of her deport- 
 ment teacher's instructions. Her address, 
 too, was a sort of a made dish of a reception 
 speech. 
 
 ' Good e vening, young ladies ! Good evening,
 
 Lynton Abbot fs Children. 147 
 
 my dear Miss Abbott I I am glad you are 
 down punctually. I hope you will find some- 
 one you know ; if not, let me introduce you 
 to some ladies. We will beg you to favour 
 us with some music presently. Professor 
 Grigoni has reported that you sing some 
 very good duets. Come this way!' all deli- 
 vered, sweetly smiling, benignantly encou- 
 raging. 
 
 ' This way ' was to the shrine of an old 
 lady with a painfully-yellow dress and very 
 deaf ears. She was invited on the score of a 
 juvenile granddaughter, of very low scholastic 
 standing, and of whom neither Helen nor I 
 had ever heard. 
 
 ' Lady Smith, will you permit me the 
 honour V bawled Mrs. Worthington, bending 
 from her stately height to the ear of the 
 yellow dame. ' Miss Abbott, Miss Man- 
 seargh — two of my favourite pupils in the 
 upper class.' 
 
 10—2
 
 148 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 Lady Smith was cruelly thus aroused from 
 a reverie. She fumbled awhile for her glasses, 
 fixed them on her nose, and at last examined 
 us severally. Her ladyship was seated on a 
 couch, one- sixth of which was covered by 
 her tiny person, five-sixths of which were 
 monopolised by her flowing yellow robes. 
 The robes made no movement to give us 
 room. But my lady prepared to cross-examine 
 us standing up before her, as erst, perchance, 
 the deceased alderman, her husband, had 
 cross-examined other culprits. 
 
 ' What is your name, my dear?' scrutinising 
 me through her glasses — said glasses having 
 a peculiar effect in hiding entirely the lids and 
 lashes of the eye, and presenting to me the 
 appearance of an eyeball framed in gold. 
 
 ' Abbott, madam,' I answered from the 
 elevation of my talhiess and in my natural 
 voice. 
 
 ' Oh, a great deal louder, please ! ' remarked
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 149 
 
 Lady Smith with unbhnking gaze, and in the 
 tone of one who offers an innocent observa- 
 tion. 
 
 I bent down as near to her as I could 
 without losing my balance, and repeated my 
 name as loudly as modesty would permit me. 
 
 ^ Yes,' said the yellow lady peacefully. 
 * Any relation to Alderman Parrot, my 
 dear?' 
 
 I shook my head, as the most available 
 way of vigorously repudiating this relation- 
 ship. 
 
 * Do you belong to this neighbourhood, 
 Miss Parrot V went on my catechist. 
 
 ' No, madam ;' conveyed as before. 
 
 * Where, then ? ' queried the yellow do wager. 
 Naturally disinclined to proclaim the name 
 
 of my home on this housetop, I became busy 
 with the fastening of my glove, and did not 
 hear the question. 
 
 My lady deliberately took off her gold-
 
 150 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 rimmed spectacles, and gently tapped my 
 hand to draw my attention ; then repeated, 
 'Whereof?' 
 
 Exasperated, I replied, feeling that I was 
 telling the entire room ; — of course I wasn't, 
 there was so much noise, but I felt so. * Of 
 Abbey Castle, Devonshire, my lady/ 
 
 But, alas ! my lady heard not only with 
 her ears. Slowly she resumed her spectacles, 
 and brought her gaze to bear upon me, then 
 repeated, '^ Where of?' and waited for the 
 answer. 
 
 I, flushed, was constrained to repeat the 
 information. 
 
 ' Miss Parrot, of Abbey Castle, Devonshire 
 — yes,' agreed our yellow examiner. 'And 
 your name, my dear ? ' turning to Helen the 
 fixed, unwinking gaze. 
 
 Helen had the advantage of being a great 
 deal shorter than I, and therefore much 
 nearer her ladyship's level, and of possessing
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 151 
 
 a voice which fitted the soprano parts of our 
 duets. But I, who knew by heart every 
 expression of her face, saw thereon the 
 droop of the eyehd and the elevation of the 
 corners of the lips, which I knew betokened 
 extreme dissatisfaction wdth her task. How- 
 ever, she gave the information without out- 
 ward and visible sign of anger, and with her 
 lips near the helix of my lady's ear, to whose 
 auditory nerve the sound travelled successfully. 
 
 * Yes,' said our yellow cross- examiner, 
 slightly puzzled ; ^ German, my dear V 
 
 ^ Tell her, Harry ! ' said Helen to me, with 
 an imploring glance. 
 
 'County Kerry, Ireland, Lady Lumley 
 Smith,' said I, complying. 
 
 ' Oh, Paddy ! ' said my lady, and giggled, 
 thinking she had been witty. 
 
 ' What an old idiot,' observed Helen, scorn- 
 fully, into my ear. 
 
 * Never mind, dear,' I said, consolingly,
 
 ] 52 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 * What can one expect from a woman dressed 
 in that colour ? — vulgar creature !' 
 
 ^ Do you know my grand-daughter, my 
 dears?' inquired Lady Smith, happily ignorant 
 of these speeches, and incapable of understand- 
 ing the slight expression of opinion which our 
 well-bred countenances might, under the cir- 
 cumstances, convey. 
 
 'What is her name?' asked I, doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 ' Miss Margaret Smith.' 
 
 I looked at Helen, and she returned my 
 glance with one of her characteristic ones of 
 ignorance and indifference combined. I was 
 constrained to reply. ' No, Lady Smith, I 
 think not.' 
 
 ' Goodness gracious me ! ' said my lady, 
 with a suddenness of astonishment that was 
 quite startling. Then, after a moment's pause, 
 ' What do they teach you here ? ' 
 
 The conjunction of which remarks so exactly
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 153- 
 
 struck my sense of the comical that I had 
 great difficulty in restraining a laugh. We 
 were fortunately spared replying by the ad- 
 vent of a lady and gentleman who knew Lady 
 Smith, and were waiting for a pause in our 
 conversation to speak to her. She had been 
 stricken dumb with astonishment long enough 
 to afford them the opportunity. And at the 
 very moment, Mrs . Worthington, whose eyes 
 seemed, for this evening, to be in every place,, 
 came by with an elderly gentleman, from 
 whose arm she disengaged herself sweetly,, 
 and requested him to take us to have some 
 tea. Now, he was French, and delighted in 
 finding victims to whom to pour forth a flood 
 of his native tono:ue. But the s^abblino^ of 
 his eloquence roamed to no high theme. 
 First the carpet, from whence, by easy transi- 
 tion, to Gobelins tapestry, which work he 
 glorified. Then tea, a beverage of which the 
 French drank much less than the English,
 
 154 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 which wisdom he glorified. Then cake, a 
 <3uHnary achievement impossible to any but 
 French cooks, whom he glorified. 
 
 * Dreadfully slow, isn't it, Harry ? ' said 
 Helen, having, with the coolness of an ex- 
 perienced demoiselle de socicte, despatched 
 our cavalier for the biscuits from the other 
 •end of the buffet. 
 
 * Awfully aggravating,' I responded, as 
 usual the most energetic of the two. When 
 lo ! behind us, having overheard both slangy 
 sentences, our majestic principal, with a gen- 
 tleman, to whom, after a momentary glance 
 I sprang joyfully. ^ Willie ! ' 
 
 I certainly might have proceeded to em- 
 brace the dear fellow in the coftee-room, but 
 he, more experienced in polite repression, 
 wisely took both of my hands in his warm 
 clasp, and smiled with all the fondness of his 
 affection in his eyes. 
 
 ' You shall see your brother alone, before
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 155 
 
 he goes, Miss Abbott,' said Mrs. Worthington, 
 * but he and I both think that you had better 
 not just yet. He will be good enough to stay 
 through the evening with you. You will come 
 back into the drawing-room for the present ; 
 therefore. Miss Manseargh, perhaps you had 
 better come with me.' 
 
 * Oh no, Mrs. Worthington ! ' I interrupted, 
 ' please let Helen stay with me.' 
 
 ' Well, for the present. M. Bourgon, will 
 you take me back to the drawing-room?' and 
 our principal kindly carried off our French 
 attendant. 
 
 ' Darling old Harry !' was my brother's 
 word-of-mouth greeting. 
 
 ' Dear, dear old fellow !' I responded, and 
 we embraced with our eyes for a moment, 
 then — ' Helen ! ' I exclaimed, taking my hand 
 out of Willie's, ^ You and Willie know one 
 another well enough in reality, though there 
 seems to have been a fatality against your
 
 156 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 meeting one another. I am so glad you see 
 each other at last.' Then, ending as I should 
 have begun, 'Helen, my brother Willie; Miss 
 Manseargh, Willie.' 
 
 They looked at each other and bowed, 
 coldly and calmly enough. There was a much 
 greater degree of interest for one another in 
 them than the parties to an introduction com- 
 monly have. For my heart was about divided 
 between them, and while my letters to Willie 
 had often been full of Helen, she had read 
 all his letters to me, and had been kept in 
 possession of all his achievements and doings 
 from my lips. But 'Coming events cast their 
 shadows before/ is not a true proverb in every 
 sense. No foreshadowing of the future in- 
 vested this meeting with the thrilling interest 
 that belonged to it, in that connection. 
 
 For the rest of the evening we had what 
 our American fellow-linguists would call a 
 real good time. My brother had the polish
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 157 
 
 and the experience of two seasons of London 
 drawing-rooms, to aid his natural powers of 
 making himself agreeable. Helen arose from 
 her apathy, and all her peculiar and charac- 
 teristic variations, which had always been so 
 •charming and fascinating to me — girls though 
 we both were — came into play. The shifting 
 shades of her hair, the brief glances through 
 her long eyelashes, the rising and falling 
 colour, and the melancholy inflection of her 
 voice ; all her individual charms, all those 
 fascinating peculiarities which marked her out 
 from all other women I ever knew, displayed 
 themselves in full force. We found a quiet 
 corner in the drawing-room, and talked of 
 -every possible thing ; we drank lukewarm 
 tea, and ate stale cake ; and the only young 
 man in the room leant over our music when 
 we sang our long-practised duet. A certain 
 shade of quiet and sobriety hung over WiUie 
 all the time ; but I attributed this to the
 
 158 Lynton Ahhotfs Children, 
 
 weighty responsibilities of a dispensary phy- 
 sician. The explanation of his sudden ap- 
 pearance he refused to give until the end of 
 the evening. 
 
 At length the guests began to depart. 
 Mrs. Worthington took her first spare moment 
 to come to my side, and tell me to go down 
 to the visitors' room for ten minutes, to bid 
 goodnight to my brother. 
 
 ' You remain with me, Miss Manseargh !' 
 was added so peremptorily that we did not 
 question the mandate. 
 
 * Harry, darling,' said Willie, putting his 
 arm round me, ' I have some sad news for 
 you. I would not interrupt your enjoyment 
 of the evening to no purpose. I am sorry to 
 have to give it a sad ending.' 
 
 ^ Father V I said, alarmed by this be- 
 ginning. 
 
 ' No. Father is not ill,' he hastened to 
 reassure me. ' No, dearest. But we have
 
 Lynton Ahhoffs Children. 159 
 
 lost a brother. Poor James has died in 
 
 Bengal, where you know the th was 
 
 quartered.' 
 
 ^ Poor boy !' I said, some tears filling my 
 eyes, and real sorrow my heart. 'You re- 
 member him better than I do, no doubt, 
 Willie ; but he is my brother. And so 
 young ! He came between Lynton and 
 Marshall ; and one is twenty-nine, the other 
 twenty-five. He would be only seven-and- 
 twentv, Willie V 
 
 ' Exactly,' said Willie. ' Now, love. Aunt 
 Marshall thinks there is a duty falling upon 
 you, through this, and that is why I am 
 here. This letter will tell you what she 
 thinks you have to do.' 
 
 I took the black-bordered ej)istle, and 
 broke open the envelope. It was written in 
 my aunt's bold, decided hand, duly headed 
 by her monogram, opposite the Abbott crest, 
 engraved above ' Dalestonbury Deanery,
 
 160 Lyntoii Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 shire/ in inexplicable Old English letters. 
 
 Thus it said : 
 
 * My dear Henrietta, 
 
 ' The sad news has reached us 
 of the early death of your brother 
 James. You, who know how affectionate a 
 father Mr. Abbott is, and how proud and 
 fond he has always been of his sons, will feel 
 liow great a blow this will be to him. He is 
 very much isolated from society. Lynton 
 and Everard are on the Continent ; Willie is 
 tied to his post : only Marshall is near your 
 father, and you know that his unfortunate 
 marriage has placed a coolness between 
 him and Mr. Abbott. The dean and I 
 alike feel that your duty and privilege is 
 to go to your father in this sorrow, and cheer 
 and comfort him. It is your especial province 
 to do so, as his only daughter. We would 
 have deferred your going to see him until
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 161 
 
 affcer you had come out, but for this occur- 
 rence. Under the circumstances, we all think 
 that you should go to Abbey Castle at once. 
 I must tell you that your father has never 
 seemed to rejoice in your sex, though he has re- 
 ceived my report of your progress with interest. 
 You must go, now, and make him thank God 
 for his one daughter. Willie will bring you this 
 letter, and accompany you up to London, 
 from whence some friends of mine will 
 chaperon you as far as Exeter, whence, of 
 course, you drive by post. 
 
 ' I know your self-reliance and judgment, 
 my dear Henrietta, or perhaps I should hesi- 
 tate to send you thus alone. But it will be 
 better that no one accompanies you. The 
 housekeeper can provide for you, certainly; 
 and for your behaviour to your father I must 
 leave you to your own good taste and 
 sense. 
 
 ' Give my kind regards to Miss Manseargh, 
 VOL. I. 11
 
 162 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 and express to her my great regret that this 
 sad event must cause the postponement of 
 her visit to Dalestonbury. 
 
 * Be sure you write to me immediately you 
 get settled at home. Give my love to your 
 father — our condolences the dean and I 
 write. 
 
 ' Believe me, 
 
 ^ Your affectionate aunt, 
 
 'Mary Carrol Abbott.* 
 
 * What time am I to start for London^ 
 Willie V I asked, as I concluded. 
 
 ' The best train leaves at noon. You will 
 not be afraid to go home, then, dear ? ' 
 
 * No,' I said, unhesitatingly ; ' I remember 
 nothing of the master but kindness, and I 
 expect nothing else now. I agree with Aunt 
 Marshall ; I ought to go to him. I will be 
 ready punctually to-morrow, Willie.'
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children, 163 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 * Helen/ I said, ^ what do you think of 
 WilHe V 
 
 ' He seems — amiable, Harry/ 
 
 'Amiable!' I repeated, energetically. ' You 
 discontented girl, can't you find anything 
 better to say for him than that ? Most 
 people are amiable the first time you see 
 them !' 
 
 * My dear Harry, you can't expect every- 
 body to see such a paragon and wonder in 
 your brother as you do. You, yourself, seem 
 to me much better looking, much cleverer, 
 much nicer everyhow ;' — pointing her shaft 
 by a sweeping lift and droop of her lashes. 
 
 n— 2
 
 164 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 I remonstrated : ' Child, how can you be 
 so absurd ? Why, I haven't a solitary beauty 
 but my dark eyes ; and Willie is thoroughly 
 handsome.' 
 
 But it is not in human nature to reject 
 entirely a sweet draught of flattery held to 
 one's lips by a beloved hand. I felt gratified 
 by the thought that Helen loved me enough 
 to be blind where I was concerned. Such 
 self-deluding mortals are we ! 
 
 ' Willie,' I queried, as we rode up to 
 London the next day, the carriage being 
 otherwise empty permitting the pleasant 
 posture of my head on Willie's shoulder, and 
 my hand upon his head, while both his arms 
 were around me ; ' Willie, what do you think 
 of Helen ?' 
 
 * Hem — I could not say after an evening's 
 acquaintance.' 
 
 ^ But you must have some sort of a notion/ 
 I expostulated.
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 165 
 
 ' Yes ? Well, I would rather have you for 
 my. sister than Miss Manseargh.' 
 
 * That's because I have this remarkable 
 nose that Aunt Marshall talks about as a 
 kind of natural patent of nobility. It's be- 
 cause I am your sister, silly boy. That isn't 
 telling me what you think of Helen.' 
 
 * That is what I shall call making a diag- 
 nosis without inquiring into the symptoms. 
 You should ask me, *' Is it in the nose ? " not 
 jump to a conclusion, and of course you have 
 made a mistake through being so unscientific. 
 It is not the nose, but my dear old Harry 
 altogether, face and mind, whom I place 
 above Miss Manseargh.' 
 
 And I, undreaming of the mysteries of the 
 human heart, marvelled inly at thispeculiar coin- 
 cidence of opinion between Helen and Willie. 
 
 I cannot understand how what I be- 
 lieve to be the fact is to be explained, that 
 the mind can reproduce as vividly the small
 
 166 Lyntoii Ahbott's Children, 
 
 annoyances and vexations, the minor miseries 
 and pains of existence, as it can those which 
 seemed overwhelming at the time of their 
 occurrence. Storms of feehng have rent my 
 soul ; fate has placed me in circumstances as 
 cruel, and has left me in as utter wretched- 
 ness, as I imagine a human being possibly 
 could have endurance for — let the reader de- 
 cide whether this has but been so when I 
 have finished my history ; and yet my memory 
 recalls certain days of small things, wherein I 
 endured petty annoyance or discomfort, more 
 distinctly than it will revivify those intense 
 storms, those great agonies of my life. To 
 such an extent is this carried in at least my 
 own mind that I verily believe that if I were 
 asked to remember the most wretched hours 
 I have ever passed, my instinct, my emotional 
 faculties, would exclaim in my mind for some 
 of these small miseries ; and it would be a few 
 seconds — an appreciable interval of time —
 
 Lynton Abbot fs Children, 167 
 
 before my reason would remind me that the 
 great passions of grief which I have known 
 must have caused me hours of deeper wretched- 
 ness than these puny aggravations did. How 
 is it ? I can only suggest that the atoms of 
 the brain which are stirred by these great 
 feelings and miseries are so violently agitated 
 that they are, so to speak, stunned ; or that 
 they are driven with such force that they are 
 to a certain extent fixed and immovable, and 
 resist for an instant the effort of the will to 
 reproduce gently their old exertions. 
 
 But this is not precisely light reading. 
 And as the only aim of my work should be — 
 as ask the novel readers, should it not ? — 
 to tell my story, I with penitence take up my 
 thread, which, nevertheless, I have scarcely 
 dropped ; for the whole of the passage which 
 has just preceded this was suggested by and 
 •connected with the reflection, How miserable 
 that journey to Exeter was! Willie took me
 
 168 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 straight to the house of our uncle Henry^ 
 where I was made comfortable for the night. 
 The next morning the old gentleman who was 
 to be my escort, and who had kindly hastened 
 his leaving London by a day or two that he 
 might fulfil that office to obhge my uncle 
 Marshall, made his appearance at the un- 
 pleasantly early hour of eight o'clock. The 
 train by which he intended we should travel 
 left Paddington at nine, and he had arrived 
 early that he might be secure of my getting 
 ready ; for he was a precise old gentleman,, 
 and must not miss a train any more than he 
 must miss shaving. This one little fact made 
 me suspect that he was not an agreeable old 
 gentleman ; and my suspicion by-and-by 
 changed to certainty. He made me hurry 
 and bustle over the first meal of the day ; 
 a course of proceeding which is, in itself, 
 enough to turn pleasure into discontent for 
 the next twelve hours.
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 169 
 
 Willie appeared to go to the station^ look- 
 ing jaded and weary. He had been watching 
 all night a case of ' acute laryngitis/ which, 
 following upon his railway journeys, had tired 
 him out. Nevertheless, the dear fellow, 
 knowing how much I should like to see him,, 
 had come to take me to the train. I mention 
 this chiefly because he wanted to buy me a 
 book to read, and the old gentleman so an- 
 grily said, Why, he had got everyone of the 
 papers, that we did not have the book. 
 
 You can see I feel a little spiteful about 
 that old gentleman. So I do ; his grave,, 
 clerical appearance is unpleasant to my vision 
 in memory. He helped to make me uncom- 
 fortable. 
 
 I opine that he looked upon women as so 
 many men do — as beings to be protected and 
 kept under. He very carefully made of his 
 portmanteau a hassock for my feet ; he con- 
 sulted my wishes about the window ; and he
 
 170 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 placed upon the opposite seat biscuits, and 
 cherry in a flask, and invited me to help my- 
 self therefrom when I might feel disposed. 
 But he seated himself at the far end of the 
 carriage, and when I spoke to him, he snubbed 
 me. It was not that he did not like to talk ; 
 for he gossiped unremittingly to a gentleman 
 who travelled in our carriage between two 
 stopping- points ; only he would not talk to me. 
 He had all the papers. Yes ; and he sat 
 upon them. He began by giving me the 
 Times supplement, while he himself perused 
 the rest of that journal. There was nothing 
 in the advertisement sheet to interest me ; 
 and so I sat, looking blankly at it, and think- 
 ing. Presently, he handed me the body of 
 the paper. But I discovered that he had 
 carefully cut out various paragraphs, which, I 
 suppose, he concluded I should not see. So I, 
 in dignified disgust, laid it down, and awaited 
 no more of his driblets of Bowdlerized news.
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 171 
 
 So I thought and thought of poor James, 
 lying in his foreign grave, placed there by- 
 careless hands, and dying among strangers, 
 hundreds of miles from our Devonshire home. 
 When my vivid imagination had made this 
 sufficiently terrible and distinct to thoroughly 
 impress my mind, I began to think of where 
 and wliat I was going to. The longer I 
 thought, the more the prospect of facing my 
 father alarmed and depressed me. I had not 
 dreaded it at all before ; but now, the coming 
 meeting became quite a gigantic apprehension. 
 Then the sun went in, and dulness came over 
 the face of things, and the rain cheerlessly 
 drizzled. And the wind rose, and moaned as 
 a summer wind had no right to do. And the 
 country seemed to be bleak and bare. And, 
 as I said in the beginning, I was wretched 
 altogether. 
 
 Never was traveller more delighted to 
 reach his goal than was I to alight at
 
 172 Lyntoii Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 'Exeter. My escort took me to an hotel, 
 where he ordered the post carriage which 
 was to convey me to Abbey Castle ; and 
 while it was preparing he invited me to take 
 some dinner. But, inasmuch as he remarked 
 that there was soup and roast mutton ready, 
 — which was fortunate, because there could 
 not be anything better for a young lady fresh 
 from school than roast mutton, — I decided 
 that I should prefer getting out of the 
 company of this reverend bore as quickly as^ 
 possible, and declined dinner. 
 
 Sorrow, apprehension, hunger, and fatigue 
 were therefore my travelling companions in 
 the hotel brougham. Miserable crew ! Any 
 one of them alone will banish happiness ; but 
 they work best together, the presence of each 
 giving tenfold strength to the others. 
 
 Nor, I conjecture, could worse external 
 circumstances be devised for their unfor- 
 tunate victim than those in which I was
 
 Lyjitoii Ahhotfs Children. 173 
 
 placed. The country, during rain^ presents 
 a much more dismal appearance than the 
 streets of a town. The rain dripping from 
 trees which seem to droop and shudder 
 under its violence, the broad expanse of 
 sodden field, the filthy roads, the ditches 
 of stagnant water incited to send forth 
 horrible odours, are peculiar to that part of 
 creation with which man has not interfered. 
 Even the mere blank solitude of fields is 
 an element of suffering unknown to those 
 who get through their rainy days in town. 
 Desolation is the attribute of wet rurality. 
 
 Petty misery — upon which cavilling critics 
 ma}^ perhaps accuse me of having written a 
 chapter, seeing that it has been perforce my 
 chief record for to-day — is much more un- 
 hinging to the nerves than a great gush of 
 trouble. Therefore, by the time my two 
 hours' drive was completed, as far as to the 
 gate of the grounds of Abbey Castle, I had
 
 174. Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 lost the necessary courage to have my unex- 
 pected brougham driven up to the front 
 entrance, and preferred dismissing the vehicle 
 and walking up on foot, in the rain, to the 
 back door. 
 
 The first announcement of my identity had 
 to be made at the lodge, where I left my 
 luggage. But the neat little girl in a servant's 
 cap knew nothing whatever about me, and 
 accepted the charge of my boxes in a state 
 of mystification. 
 
 When I had passed up the familiar avenue, 
 and through the shrubbery to the kitchen 
 entrance, the same thing was the case. 
 There were three servants there, but all were 
 strangers to me, and stared at my bedraggled 
 attire in Avonderment. 
 
 T asked for Mrs. Stillingfleet, and one of 
 them went and found her. 
 
 I had grown completely out of the good 
 housekeeper's knowledge. But when I had
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 175 
 
 told her that I was the master's daughter, 
 Henrietta, she discovered that I really had 
 not altered much, and that I ^ favoured the 
 family — especially in the nose ;' and she wa& 
 right down glad I was come, for the master 
 was very much cut up. He was in the 
 morning-room, she added ; and thither I 
 directed my footsteps. 
 
 The rain made the day chilly, and my 
 father had a small, blazing fire alight. 
 Although it was only half-past five on a 
 summer evening, it was so dark a day 
 that, as he sat with his back towards the 
 window, I saw him far more by the flickering 
 light of the fire than by that of the dull skies. 
 
 How well I remembered that stately 
 figure, and that stern face, with its here- 
 ditary fine Eoman nose, which my own 
 features reproduced. And how well I 
 could understand the meaning of the listless 
 attitude, the slight stoop of the shoulders. 
 I stood and watched him through the half-
 
 176 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 open door for fully five minutes. Then he 
 turned his head, and saw me in the hall. 
 Sympathy, and the instinct of relationship, 
 accomplished for me what my thoughts had 
 for so long failed to arrange. Before he could 
 speak I was beside his chair, kneeling down 
 so that my face was on a level with his, and 
 resting my hand upon his arm. 
 
 * Father — I am Harry !' 
 
 ' Harry, my child '? ' he asked, fixing a 
 piercing glance upon me. 
 
 ' Yes, father, I have come because poor 
 James is dead ; they tell me my mother 
 said I was to be a comforter to you one day ; 
 won't you let me be, father ? ' and with 
 characteristic impulsiveness, I dared to em- 
 brace his grand old head between my hands. 
 
 He looked at me firmly for a moment; then 
 his composure broke down; his eyes filled 
 with tears, and his lips quivered ; but for my 
 sole and sufficient answer, he wrapped his 
 arms around me, and drew me to his breast.
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 177 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 Before I retired for the nioiit to the room 
 which Mrs. Stilhngfleet had prepared for me, 
 I had fully succeeded in substituting my exist- 
 ino' individuality for that of the singular little 
 character called Harry, and aged eleven, who 
 had lived in my father's affections all through 
 those years. I hope I do not misjudge the 
 master while I believe that his o^ief was 
 intensified by the fact that his long-laid plans 
 had come to naught, that his determinations 
 were made futile. My birth had annoyed 
 him, because he had laid plans and had made 
 determinations which were destined to come 
 to grief over my sex. The death of his son 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 Lynton Ahhotfs Children, 
 
 frustrated other plans, and the natural grief 
 of the father was intensified by the humilia- 
 tion of the resolute mind, finding its own 
 strength of will of no account. Yet I see 
 nothing inexplicable in tlie fact that my 
 coming to him at this juncture was a comfort 
 to him, and that he was more disposed at 
 this moment to become permanently recon- 
 ciled to my sex than he could have been 
 under other circumstances. Perhaps it seems 
 paradoxical to say that the occurrence of a 
 second misfortune made the most favourable 
 opportunity for reconciling him to the first 
 one ; but I do not think it is so really. There 
 must be a certain amount of humility in a 
 mind which will consciously ^make the best of 
 things.* To find that its most skilful plans and 
 its strongest determinations are nothing avail- 
 ing against Fate is the bitterest knowledge 
 to a proud spirit ; and its instinctive rebellion 
 prevents it from admitting the possibility
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 179 
 
 that, after all, there may be other good than 
 that which it designed. But, at the same 
 time, a consolation extracted from the grief 
 itself is both the most natural and most 
 efficacious of consolations. When, therefore, 
 my warm sympathetic nature offered itself to 
 soothe the wound in my father's heart, it was 
 the most fitting balm ; for he was, in receiv- 
 ino' it, obtainino^ consolation from the failure 
 of his plans, while, at the same time, his 
 pride could avoid the consciousness that this 
 was really what was happening. And not only 
 was I especially fitted to be his consoler, and 
 hence to be taken into his full favour, by this 
 fact, but also by the natural warmth and 
 strength of my sympathetic feelings, and by 
 the bond betw^een us of blood, and even by 
 our relationship of father and daughter ; for 
 I cannot doubt that the Lawgiver of the 
 Israelites was in the right when he held that 
 sex has influence between the very nearest 
 
 12—2
 
 180 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 relatives. For all this, O beloved general 
 reader, I entreat you to blame the critics ; 
 Avho would have declared that I had stated 
 a psychological improbability, had I been con- 
 tent to leave standing unexplained the true 
 statement, which will be sufficient for you, 
 that my father received me gladly, and was 
 comforted by me, and soon loved me truly, 
 and was proud of his unwished- for, unintended 
 daughter, in her womanhood. 
 
 And now I proceed with my story, in the 
 hope and belief that it will be long before I 
 shall need thus to travel into problems of 
 causation again. 
 
 * And have you forgotten all your medical 
 learning, Harry V asked my father, as we sat 
 together after breakfast, on the day following 
 my arrival. I had, at his bidding, given him 
 an account of my studies, and a general idea 
 of my life for the past seven years.
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 181 
 
 ' Oh, no, sir !' I replied, falling back so 
 naturally into the old style of address to the 
 master. * You know you sent me ^^ Ellis" and 
 *^ Armstrong," and I read them several times 
 at intervals, and " Taylor on Poisons," which 
 was the only medical book I had for a long- 
 time, I know almost by heart at this moment. 
 If any one here should get poisoned, sir, I 
 have the symptoms of the various drugs, and 
 the proper antidotes, quite at my finger-ends.' 
 
 ' Ah ! what a student you could be !' sighed 
 my father. ' What a pity you will not be 
 able to begin just as Willie finishes, so that 
 he might give you a helping hand during his 
 last term, as your uncles William and Henry 
 did in their time.' 
 
 ^ Yes : dear old Willie,' said I, smiling ; 
 ^ there is nothing I should like better than to 
 begin under his eye, when he is in his last 
 year, and I am sure he would be pleased.' 
 
 ' What a fine man you would have made 1'
 
 182 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 continued my father, in sober mournfulness. 
 *Your face is strong in its expression, and 
 you have the Abbott nose larger and finer 
 than any of your brothers except Lynton/ 
 
 ^ Has Lynton the nose well developed V ex- 
 claimed I. 'You know, sir, I have not seen 
 him at all for eight years. I have no idea 
 what he is like. However, it is fortunate 
 that he has that particular feature in good 
 prominence, since it is he who will have to 
 transmit it to the next generation of the 
 principal branch of the family.' 
 
 ' He has been on the Continent a year 
 now,' said my father ; ' but even when he was 
 here last he looked nearly as old as I do, 
 though he is not quite thirty. His hair is 
 shaded with grey. And, as you say, it is he 
 who has to keep up the family name. I wish 
 he would marry, and settle down here, Harry.' 
 
 'He is older than you were when you 
 married, is he not V
 
 Lynton Abbot fs Children, 183 
 
 ' Oh, yes ! I married at twenty-five, my 
 ■dear, and am only seven-and-twenty years 
 older than Lynton. Now, none of your 
 brothers have shown any disposition to marry 
 young — except Marshall — Ah !' 
 
 My father ended with a long-drawn sigh, 
 and a very grave and displeased look. I 
 knew scarcely anything of my only sister-in- 
 law. Two years before, my Aunt Marshall 
 had told me that my brother was married, 
 without the consent or knowledge of his 
 father, and that his Avife was much beneath 
 us. After giving me which information, she 
 had peremptorily closed the subject. 
 
 At this present moment Marshall was Vicar 
 of Apsland, the old incumbent having only 
 had the gift of the living from my father to 
 ■^keep it warm' until my brother should be 
 ready to take the occupancy. Marshall and 
 his wife were, therefore, established at the 
 Vicarage, and, as I should have to meet this
 
 184 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 new sister-in-law very soon, it occurred to me 
 that I ought to know something about her. 
 1 ventured to interrupt my father's grave 
 reverie with a hint. 
 
 ' My aunt has told me very little of 
 Marshall's marriage, father.' 
 
 * It was a very great trial to me/ said my 
 father, coming out of his abstraction. ^ What 
 did Mrs. Marshall tell you ? 
 
 ' Nothing but that she was not a fit match 
 for one of us. . . . I suppose I must go 
 down and see them soon V 
 
 'Yes, my dear.' 
 
 ' And ought I not to know a little more 
 about it first, sir?' I asked, rather timidly, 
 since he continued silent. 
 
 'Yes, you should; but I wish Mrs. Marshall 
 had spared me the telling of the story,' re- 
 sponded my father, with knit brows. ' But, 
 since I must : — Well, Harry, your brother 
 took a good position in the pass-list of his
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. ]85 
 
 college, three years ago, and might have had a 
 fellowship forthwith, in which to remain until 
 he could take priest's orders. He wanted to 
 decline it^ but the Dean and I insisted, and 
 so he had to confess at last that he had been 
 married for the previous six months ; and, 
 worse than that, his first child was three 
 months old or so. She — his wife — was the 
 dauo^hter of a man who had been an insio^- 
 nificant curate, and she is tolerably well 
 educated. But she absolutely knows nothing-- 
 of her grandfather ; and her mother was an 
 extremely low, ignorant person. Her father 
 was dead. He must have married below even 
 his station. Then they were very poor ; did 
 plain needlework for a living ; the mother 
 even went out charing, sometimes, I believe. 
 Of course he did wisely to marry the girl at 
 last. We can more easily condone this mar- 
 riage than we could have hushed up 
 
 Well, Harry, it's a thing I can't talk to
 
 18G Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 you about. You're not my son really, you 
 
 know ; but I don't understand how a 
 
 fellow like Marshall came ever to be carried 
 off his feet.' 
 
 Neither did I. 
 
 ' Is she pretty, sir V I asked. 
 
 'Well — after a fashion perhaps No, 
 
 it would be gross flattery to call her pretty. 
 She has an innocent, juvenile face, that might 
 be rather taking ; though I shouldn't have 
 guessed that sort of thing would entrap a 
 fellow hke Marshall.' 
 
 Again I agreed with my father. Marshall's 
 marriage now presented itself to me as equally 
 deplorable and mystifying. A Mrs. Abbott 
 who did not know anything of her grand- 
 father, and whose mother did charing I — 
 Dreadful ! And underbred, and not pretty ! 
 It was equally wonderful I 
 
 I may as well say at once that, though I 
 afterwards learned the true story of my
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children, 187 
 
 brother's mesalliance from the lips of his 
 unfortunate wife, I cannot relate it here. 
 It would be scouted as too black a tale to 
 be true. For good reasons, I decline to en- 
 lighten the world farther upon the point. 
 
 The words, 'You are not my son, really, 
 Harry,' seemed to have taken my father's 
 thoughts back to the point from Avhence he 
 had started ; for when he spoke next, after a 
 moment's pause, he was there. 
 
 ' You would look a great deal better in a 
 coat and hat than in that sort of thing,' was 
 what he said ; ' that sort of thing ' con- 
 temptuously indicating my light morning 
 dress and long curls. 
 
 ' I wonder if I should,' I laughed, looking 
 at his serious face. 
 
 ' You had better try, ' responded my 
 father, instantly. ' Come, I'll bring in my 
 coat and hat, and you shall try them on 
 ehV
 
 188 Lynton Ahhott's Children. 
 
 The suggestion presented itself to me a^ 
 an excellent piece of fun ; — the very opposite 
 from what it appeared to the master. 
 
 'Certainly, sir;' said school-girl merri- 
 ment. 
 
 My father brought into the morning- 
 room a black frock-coat and a high hat, 
 and I, with much amusement, proceeded to 
 induct myself into the former. 
 
 ' You ought to have a white front,' remarked 
 my father, who stood on the opposite side of 
 the hearth surveying me. 
 
 ' No, sir ; this will do,' I said, unfastening 
 the white muslin bow at my throat ; * if you 
 will lend me your scarf pin.' I tucked the 
 ends of my tie down straight, after the fashion 
 of the ' bands ' of John Wesley and his 
 clerical contemporaries; then, fastening the 
 two edges together with my father's pin, not 
 a bad substitute for a " dickey ' was formed. 
 I buttoned the coat up tightly so far as it
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 189 
 
 closed ; and turned all my curls up on to the 
 top of my head, fixing them there by putting 
 on the hat. I laughed a little at my own 
 reflection in the glass, and then turned to the 
 master to be inspected. 
 
 ' Capital !' was his verdict; 'you look a fine 
 manly young fellow, Harry; your features 
 are much too large for a beautiful woman ; 
 but they would be ' 
 
 His sentence was abruptly cut short by a 
 rap at the door. 
 
 ' Come in,' said my father, a little startled 
 into thoughtlessness ; and the door imme- 
 diately opened to admit — not a w^oman ser- 
 vant, but a gentlemanly- looking young man, 
 a complete stranger to me. I blushed vio- 
 lently, and sat down immediately on the 
 couch behind me, hoping to escape his notice. 
 My father faced the door, and placed himself 
 in front of me ; but the intruder saw me 
 instantly — his eyes swept over the strange
 
 190 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 medley of my attire, though, with innate good 
 taste, he immediately removed his glance, 
 and looked at me no more while he stayed in 
 the room. I did not ventm^e even to remove 
 my hat, but sat, feeling very foolish, until he 
 had said what he had to say, and went out 
 with my father. Then I removed the 
 manly garb with all speed, and had 
 just finished tying up my bow when my 
 father re-entered the room, drawing on his 
 gloves. 
 
 ^ Well, Harry, we were surprised,' he said, 
 taking up his hat. 
 
 * Yes, sir ; whoever is that young gentle- 
 man?' 
 
 * That ? — only my steward ; I have had 
 him for two years. The management of the 
 home farm, and of the estate altogether, 
 grew quite too much for me ; and as Lyn- 
 ton did not seem disposed to stay here and 
 help with it, I decided to employ a pro-
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 191 
 
 fessional agent — some one better than the old 
 bailiff — to look after things in general under 
 me. I want you to be civil to him ; he's a very 
 respectable young man — I wish you had been 
 in fitting attire for me to present him to you 
 just now. There he is ; you have no objec- 
 tion to my calling him in to introduce him, 
 I suppose, my dear '? ' 
 
 * None whatever, father.' 
 
 So my father opened the window, and 
 called ' Brown,' and the young man turned 
 from the gardener, to whom he was speaking, 
 and came round through the hall into the 
 room. 
 
 ^ My dear Harry, permit me to make 
 known to you Mr. Brown, my steward. 
 Brown, this is Miss Abbott, my only 
 daughter.' 
 
 Mr. Brown looked at me now^ ; a full clear 
 look, out from a pair of bright grey eyes.
 
 192 Lynton Ahhotfs Children, 
 
 He bowed as low as I desired, and said he 
 was very glad to have the honour. Then 
 he and my father went about their busi- 
 ness.
 
 Lynton Ahhoifs Children. 193 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 When my father came in to luncheon, I 
 asked him whether he did not think I ought, 
 in common courtesy, to walk down during 
 the afternoon to see Marshall and his wife. 
 He assented, and immediately after the meal 
 sat down and wrote a note telling my brother 
 that I had arrived at Abbey Castle, and that 
 I should call at the Vicarage in about an 
 hour. This note he sent at once, by a man ; 
 and I sat down with him for a little while 
 that the Vicarage people might have due time 
 to prepare for my advent. 
 
 In this interval we talked, among other 
 things, about Mr. Brown. He was the son. 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 Ijynton Ahhott's Children. 
 
 of a labourer, living not far off, my father 
 said, and had been given the rudiments of 
 education by the charity of his clergyman, 
 who had seen something bright in the 
 boy. Brown had followed ordinary agricul- 
 tural labourers' employment for a few years 
 after ; but the same good friend, the clergy- 
 man, had taken him as his under-gardener, 
 and had afterwards given him entire charge 
 of his small farm. Brown had risen by 
 degrees thence, till, at seven-and-twenty, he 
 became my father's steward. He was an 
 excellent agriculturist, said the master, a 
 good man of business, and, what was far 
 more extraordinary, quite a gentleman in 
 manners, habits, and tastes, and had so 
 improved his own education as to become a 
 good classical and general scholar. He owed 
 it all, my father added, to the kindness of 
 the reverend gentleman, who had not only 
 had him educated, but had, some years after^
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 195 
 
 made quite an associate of him, both in gene- 
 ral parish work and, to a degree, personally.' 
 ' And now he is constantly with my father/ 
 said I, complimentarily, ^ it would be strange 
 if his manners and tastes did not receive the 
 highest degree of polish that they can bear.' 
 
 The sagacious reader will readily conclude 
 that all this would not have been transferred 
 to my pages without Mr. Brown were to 
 prove hereafter a somewhat considerable 
 person therein. 
 
 Imperative business took my father in a 
 different direction, and I set out alone for 
 the Yicaraofe. I knew the somewhat lonof 
 route most perfectly, and travelling it carried 
 my thoughts back to the happy days of my 
 boy-girlhood, and to the warm affection 
 which had joined Willie and me in every 
 pursuit, from our medical studies down to 
 the setting of our hens. Absorbed in memo- 
 ries, I went on until I reached a gate, the 
 
 13—2
 
 196 Lijnton Abbott's Children. 
 
 unfastening of which compelled my thoughts 
 to return to things present. I had made a 
 short detour off my father's estate, and was 
 now coming upon it again. This was one of 
 its boundary gates. It was too tall for the 
 most daring sportsman, and was padlocked, 
 but foot-passengers obtained admission to the 
 iield through a small wooden-barred wicket 
 which opened in the large gate. I lifted up 
 the latch of this wicket, and was about to 
 perform the feat of clambering up to the 
 aperture and through the same, when lo 1 an 
 enemy appeared. Or should not I rather, 
 in the name of sacred justice, say — he who 
 was before me in the field rose up, and 
 bellowed his intention to retain the absolute 
 possession ? His eyes gleamed red, and uprose 
 his tail, while in the air his pointed horns he 
 tossed, and lifted from off the earth his 
 powerful hoofs. So the gigantic bull hurled 
 at me his defiance I
 
 Lynton Abbot fs Children. 197 
 
 So I was kept off my father's lands and 
 away from my brother's house by a presump- 
 tuous bull ! The situation was annoying, but 
 I saw its comic side. The bull was evidently, 
 however, a determined animal, and told me 
 so by his various tossings and flingings, as I 
 stood and contemplated him through the re- 
 closed wicket. I would have reasoned the 
 question with him, but I had neither the 
 thick stick nor the strong arm which are 
 requisite preliminaries to discussing a point 
 of right of way with a bull. 
 
 Just as statu quo was beginning to get too 
 much for my patience, and I w^as wondering 
 if to be gored to death were really very 
 unpleasant — going back not having occurred 
 to me yet — I heard a step in the lane behind 
 me, from which I was a few steps removed. 
 I turned, and beheld Mr. Brown proceeding 
 along. He saw me at that moment, and, 
 recognising me, raised his hat; then, seeing
 
 198 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 that I was in some difficulty, came toward 
 me. 
 
 ' You seem destined to find me in what a 
 French noveHst would call "situations,"' said 
 I, making the best of the position. 
 
 'I hope I can assist you, Miss Abbott.' 
 This just as he reached the gate. Then, 
 perceiving the bull, he elevated his eyebrows, 
 and stopped. 
 
 'When I was at home,' I continued, 'this 
 field was the common pathway between 
 Wilton village and the church and Vicarage. 
 Is that altered ? for, if not, I should think it 
 is scarcely safe to keep an animal subject to 
 such fits of fury in the field.' 
 
 'He has no right whatever in the field, 
 miss/ said Brown; 'it is still the pathway 
 to the Vicarage, and this brute has broken out 
 of the next field, through over there, where 
 perhaps you can see the bars are thrown 
 down. I must drive him back there.'
 
 Lynton Abbot fs Children. 199 
 
 He looked about; but the hedges presented 
 none but small sticks. However, Brown 
 selected the largest and prickHest, and armed 
 only therewith, approached the wicket before 
 which I stood. The animal inside, I con- 
 €lude, overheard the decision; he became 
 more lively even than before. Pointing his 
 chin higher in the air, standing alternately on 
 his hind and fore-legs and flourishing the 
 spare pair more vigorously, he proclaimed his 
 opinion thereupon. 
 
 ' Might I ask you, Miss Abbott/ said the 
 steward, ' to walk just a few steps round into 
 the lane, while I clear the path for you in 
 this field." 
 
 I glanced significantly from the bull and 
 his weapons to the man and his branch of a 
 stick. ' You mean,' I replied, with the blunt- 
 ness of impetuosity, 'will I get out of the way, 
 that the bull may kill you without my seeing 
 the murder V
 
 200 lajnton Ahhotfs Children, 
 
 'Not at all/ he said, smiling — a full frank 
 smile, I noticed — ' if the bull will not yield to 
 me, I shall retire, and bring assistance to deal 
 with him/ 
 
 * But if it rushes at you,' I retorted, ' how 
 do you think you can get out V 
 
 ' Through the wicket.' 
 
 * But you cannot,' I asserted, ' you cannot 
 safely get over this high step, and through 
 this narrow opening, either one way or the 
 other.' 
 
 ' But what is to be done V he asked, paus- 
 ing to appeal to common sense. ^ Even if 
 I were willing that you should go back, or 
 right round by Wilton, without my even 
 attempting to remove the obstacle out of 
 your path, it would not be doing my duty to 
 go away even to fetch assistance, leaving the 
 brute out here, where he may attack some 
 defenceless old woman, perhaps.' 
 
 ' You must open the big gate.'
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 201 
 
 * Pardon me — indeed I must not, miss ; 
 the bull might rush through there before I 
 could prevent him, if I once went away from 
 the gate, and injure you.' 
 
 We stood for a moment and surveyed each 
 other's resolute faces. 
 
 ^ See, Mr. Erovrn,' I said, presently, ^ one 
 of us must give way, and I assure you it shall 
 not be me. I will not move from in front of 
 this wicket until you promise me you will not 
 attempt to get through it, while you are 
 alone.' 
 
 ' Really — I am very sorry — T should be 
 most pleased if I could do anything you desire 
 me, Miss Abbott ; but in this particular in- 
 stance I must not obey. I cannot open the 
 whole gate, and expose you to so much danger^ 
 and I should never forgive myself if I went 
 away without even trying to drive this brute 
 back, and then some poor old creature lost 
 her life through my cowardice.'
 
 202 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 I immediately noted, and was pleased by 
 the greater strength of his expressions about 
 the possibility of harm befalling one of the 
 poor old pensioners of the Vicarage than of 
 myself, his master's freshly-appeared daughter. 
 It was generous that he should remember 
 the age and decrepitude of a poverty-stricken 
 Darby or Joan, rather than the rank and 
 position of my young active self Brown had 
 evidently not improved his standing by mean 
 servility to his superiors. 
 
 * I won't be hurt,' I told him. ^ You un- 
 lock the whole of the gate, and go in at it, 
 and I will hold it in my hand, keeping it 
 closed against the bull, but ready to pull it 
 open and shut it to again, if he should attack 
 you, and you need to hurry out.' 
 
 He hesitated and looked very doubtful ; but 
 1 urged so strongly, and repeated my deter- 
 mination so decidedly, that at length, having 
 stipulated that I would not open the gate if
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 203 
 
 there were any chance of the bull getting 
 through. Brown produced the key from his 
 pocket, unfastened the padlock, and passed 
 through the gate into the field. I stood hold- 
 ing the gate so that I could readily open it 
 a Httle way; and watching the course of events 
 with my heart beating high, and my lips tightly 
 closed in excitement. Thus began the tug of 
 war. The man walks into the field about 
 half-a-dozen foot-lengths; the bull perceives 
 him, and, dancing high into the air, meditates 
 a rush at him ; but, seeing the man stand 
 firmly, is astonished, and pauses to wonder. 
 They stand, for the amazement of the bull to 
 subside, for a full minute. Fatal minute ! in 
 it the firm resolute bearing of the man, and 
 that wonderful magnetic power by which man 
 has dominion over the brute, assert their in- 
 fluence on the marveller. His tail is lowered, 
 his attitude more uncertain, when he recovers 
 himself. His spring is more subdued, when
 
 204 Lynton Ahhott's Children. 
 
 he gathers himself together, and performs a 
 grand rond about his adversary. The man 
 turns upon his heel, and keeps him off by the 
 continual exertion of the power which was 
 established during^ that hesitating^ moment. 
 Oraoid rond is repeated five times ; then as- 
 tonishment once more enters the bullish brain, 
 and he stops to survey the undaunted bearing 
 of his opponent. The man selects this moment 
 for the bold attack ; with his small stick up- 
 reared he advances upon his foe ; the bull, 
 surprised, retreats, retreats twenty foot-lengths,, 
 and then — humanity victorious — the brute 
 fairly turns tail, and rushes full speed before 
 his pursuing conqueror, into his own field, 
 Brown calmly replaces the broken hedge sticks,, 
 spends several minutes in fastening them up, 
 then turns to where I have come up to watch 
 and applaud. 
 
 The emotions with which I had stood 
 ' spectatress of the fight' are not reproducible.
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 205 
 
 I was wrapped up in the struggle of reason 
 and human will with brute force. When the 
 bull was safely back in his own domain, I 
 aroused, to find myself standing with every 
 muscle drawn tense, and my teeth so tightly 
 set that they were aching in expostulation. 
 I walked quickly across the field, and was 
 standino' beside the victor when he turned 
 away from wedging in the pushed- out boards. 
 
 ^ Why did you come into the field until I 
 came back to tell you he was safely caged, 
 miss f he said ; the title of respect on his lips 
 sounding, by the way, no more nor no less 
 oheissant than a Frenchman's ' maamselle.^ 
 
 * I was not so frightened as that ! ' I 
 laughed. 
 
 ^You have all the courage of your race, 
 Miss Abbott,' he said, looking at me with 
 respectful admiration. 'I do not suppose one 
 young lady in a thousand could be found to 
 act as you did.'
 
 206 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 'I did nothing at all wonderful,' I returned; 
 ' but you — that animal might have killed you, 
 although I held the gate ready, as he certainly 
 would have done if you had been called upon 
 to clamber through the wicket. You are very 
 brave, indeed ;' and my eyes told him, as my 
 lips could not, how I appreciated that bravery. 
 
 ' You praise me too much,' he replied ; ' I 
 didn't expect he would attempt to hurt me ; 
 a sane man ought to be always able to con- 
 quer a brute who is only out of temper, miss. 
 When they are quite mad, of course there is 
 nothincy to be done with them : but in such a 
 case as this, any man who knows animals 
 could do what I have done.' 
 
 Which assertion I negatived by a little 
 deprecatory shake of my head. Then, as he 
 stood with his hat in his hand, awaiting what 
 I might desire, I asked : ^ Do you think there 
 are any more bulls between here and the 
 Vicarage, Mr. Brown ?'
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 207 
 
 ' Indeed I hope there are not, miss/ he 
 repHed, smiHng, 'or the master will take 
 away my character for carefulness. But 
 this same bull's field runs parallel wdth the 
 next. If you will permit me, I will just 
 step over to the stile, and see that he has not 
 broken through there.' 
 
 ' We can w^alk over together,' I said, partly 
 impelled by my father's 'Be civil to him/ 
 partly by my own unexamined impulses. 
 
 So we went across the field, side by side, 
 and talking. The steward assisted me over 
 the stile with very un -labourlike care and 
 elegance, and walked along the footpath 
 beside me, with his eye upon the hedge ; but 
 when we came to the next stile, I was re- 
 countinof to him the feats of the marvellous 
 Milo ; and as he seemed to be going on, I 
 forgot to inquire whether this was his road. 
 So we went together through the next two 
 fields, until we came in sight of the Vicarage,
 
 208 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 and I had only one field more and the church- 
 yard to traverse. Then my escort stopped, 
 and raising his hat again, said: 
 
 * With your permission I will leave you now; 
 there is no more danger to be feared between 
 here and the Vicarage.' 
 
 ' Have you come right out of your way 
 with me V I exclaimed; ' I am so sorry.' 
 
 * It is such a pleasure as I do not often 
 enjoy/ he began ; then flushed a little bit 
 under the consciousness of speaking too freely. 
 ^ I am very obliged to you, miss,' he added, 
 ' for permitting me to see that you were not 
 molested any more. I will take care that the 
 hedge is attended to immediately, so that 
 it will be quite safe before you pass back 
 again.' 
 
 I bowed, and wished him * Good morning/ 
 and we went our respective ways. Then 
 I reflected that this good-looking young man, 
 to whom I had been talking familiarly, was,
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children, 209 
 
 only a few years ago, a common farm labourer! 
 But there was nothing in his manners and ap- 
 pearance to remind one unpleasantly of the fact. 
 He knew his proper position, and with true 
 pride he retained it ; equally without offensive 
 servility and offensive famiUarity. Moreover, 
 I had that passionate admiration for physical 
 bravery which is common among women, 
 and which would frequently lead them to 
 perform deeds of the greatest courage and 
 daring if they were not taught that timidity 
 is as much a virtue in their sex as it is a vice 
 in the other. 
 
 Altogether, my impressions of Brown were 
 very favourable, and he was an individual to 
 me thenceforward. 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 210 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ^ Is Mr. Abbott in V I asked the servant who 
 replied to my knock at the front door of 
 Apsland Vicarage. 
 
 ^ No, miss ; he has not been in since morn- 
 ing, first thing.' 
 
 * Mrs. Abbott is, I suppose V 
 
 *Yes, miss.' 
 
 ' Then, will you please tell her I wish to 
 see her V I asked, attempting to enter the 
 hall. 
 
 ^ Mrs. Abbott does not receive visitors, 
 miss,' said the woman, standing still in my 
 path. 
 
 ' But she will see me,' said I ; and I passed
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 211 
 
 iter into the hall, feeling a little annoyed at 
 this reception. ' She expects me. Be good 
 enough to tell her, please.' 
 
 ' Who shall I say, miss V asked the servant, 
 overawed, probably, by the combination of this 
 assertion with my Abbott nose. (I do not 
 jest, please. That nose has often been of 
 service to my dignity.) 
 
 ' Miss Abbott/ I answered ; and the woman 
 went to a door opening out of the hall, tapped 
 at it, and entered through it. 
 
 The fact was, I could not help feeling a 
 great deal more haughtily towards this sister- 
 in-law than I did towards my father's steward. 
 It seemed to me infinitely more distressing to 
 recognise a sister in this lowly-born clergy- 
 man's dauofhter than to acknowledo^e the 
 acquired rank of the farm labourer. This, of 
 course, because the one claimed equality with 
 my family, while the other still remained far 
 our inferior. I waited calmly in the hall 
 
 14—2
 
 212 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 while the servant announced me as Miss 
 Abbott; whereas, if I had felt differently dis- 
 posed, my natural warm-heartedness would at 
 least have made me introduce myself as her 
 * sister.' 
 
 The door through which the servant dis- 
 appeared re-opened presently, and the woman 
 asked me to walk in. I did so, and found that 
 the room had three occupants : a little girl 
 about four years old, a baby (sleeping on the 
 couch), and a lady, who stood in an uncertain 
 attitude beside the fire-place. 
 
 ^ What a tiny little thing!' said my thoughts 
 to myself, immediately ; ^ why, she isn't more 
 than half my size.' 
 
 And, in truth, she was not much more ; 
 small, and now thin, though she had evidently 
 once been plump. Hers was one of those 
 childish, innocent-looking faces which are 
 enchanting in youth and happy healthiness, 
 but absolutely ugly under other conditions.
 
 Lyntoii Ahhotfs Children. 213 
 
 This face was haggard and pale, with large 
 black swollen circles under the eyes. The 
 untended aspect of her hair, and the soiled 
 and tumbled condition of her brown-hol- 
 land dress, struck unpleasantly upon me 
 at once. 
 
 This figure stood with her hands tightly 
 clasped together, and a half-frightened look in 
 her eyes ; and seemed to have not a word to 
 say. I also was somewhat embarrassed ; for 
 complete readiness of tact comes only with 
 practice in society. But she forced me to speak 
 first. 
 
 ' You have received my father's letter, I 
 suppose ?' 
 
 'No,' she replied, with an ugly nervous 
 twist of her lips, and in unassured tones. 
 ' There was a letter brought down for Marshall 
 from the Castle, but I did not open it.' 
 
 * Then, I have to introduce myself to you,' 
 I said. ' I am Mr. Abbott's daughter — ^your
 
 214 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 husband's sister Henrietta. You have pro- 
 bably heard him speak of me V 
 
 ' I — no — that is — I mean I have heard him 
 — your name,' she stammered. ' I suppose 
 you want to see him.' 
 
 She was so evidently frightened, there was 
 such a look of appeal hiding, as it were, in her 
 eyes, that she reminded me irresistibly of a 
 bird fluttering in a captors hand. So I 
 pitied her, instead of resenting her ill-bred 
 speech. 
 
 ' What time will he be in ?' I asked ; not 
 having myself enough of that polite equan- 
 imity which can return conversational good 
 for evil, to assure her that I had chiefly 
 desired to make her sisterly acquaintance. 
 ' * I do not know. He never tells me where 
 he is going,' with a small shake of her 
 shoulders, fascinating once, no doubt ; now 
 almost comic. ^ He may be in at any 
 moment.'
 
 Lynton Abbot fs Children, 215 
 
 ^ Will he not be in to dinner V I asked. 
 
 * We dined at one ; and he told me not to 
 expect him home then. He has been out 
 since about ten.' 
 
 ' Well, I have till about five o'clock to 
 spare/ I said ; ' and I will wait until then to 
 see if he comes — if you will permit me/ I 
 added. 
 
 '0, I shall be pleased, I'm sure/ said my 
 hostess. ^ Will you come into the drawing- 
 room to sit down V 
 
 I protested that this room would do very 
 nicely ; but she insisted, and so we went 
 across the hall into an opposite apartment, 
 the baby going with us. It served as a 
 fortunate resource. Women seem always 
 able to find something to say to babies, and 
 this one supplied me now, in my hour of 
 need, with something to say to prevent 
 awkward silence. Just as the topic began
 
 216 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 to get exhausted, the front door opened, and 
 a man's foot stepped into the hall. 
 
 * There is Marshall/ said his wife, in a 
 subdued and hurried tone, and with her face 
 assuming a new expression of half alarm, 
 half expectation. She rose from her seat^ 
 and stood, as though uncertain what to do,, 
 until the step had proceeded half-way up the 
 stairs. Then she went quickly to the door, 
 and out, closing it behind her. But I could 
 hear, through the door, the little conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 ' Marshall !' 
 
 * Well V — a gruff, hard snap. 
 
 * Come down here, will you V 
 
 ' You are wanted.' 
 ' By you V 
 
 * No ; your sister is here.' 
 
 * My sister ! What did you let me get so 
 far up for, before you told me V
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 217 
 
 Then he descended the stairs : there was- 
 the sound of a few rapid words from him just 
 outside the door, spoken in a tone too low to 
 reach my ear, and he came in to me. 
 
 Came, different in many respects from the 
 Marshall Abbott of seventeen years of age. 
 Clad in the long coat of a priest, and closely 
 shaven, but so black-haired that he could 
 not be said to present a clean face, the tout 
 ensemble of this young cleric of twenty-five 
 was very different from that of the boy-stu- 
 dent. This was apparent at a glance; 
 but, when one came to study him, more real 
 differences of exterieure were discoverable. 
 The extreme boniness of his face was no 
 longer perceptible. The big bones were 
 necessarily there, but they were concealed 
 by- 
 
 * Padding round with, flesli and fat,' 
 and their only effect was to make his face a 
 little broad. His eyes, too, were deeply set,.
 
 218 Lyrdon Abbott's Children. 
 
 l)ut not buried in his head, as they had 
 appeared to be of old, except, as I by-and-by 
 discovered, in particular mental states. The 
 most noticeable feature now was the mouth. 
 His clean shaving left it perfectly free for 
 observation. The clear cutting of the upper 
 lip, with the deep division at its centre, was 
 common to most of my father's children ; 
 but Marshall's mouth was all his own, by 
 reason of the upper lip's shortness, the 
 a^brupt termination of its lips at their corners 
 without any softening out into curves, and, 
 above all, the depth of the lines drawn around 
 the mouth, both above and a little down to 
 the chin, and the general expression of 
 hardness, bitterness, and self-consciousness 
 mingled which it displayed. 
 
 As he came into the room, and held out 
 his hand to me, I thought instinctively of the 
 last time I had seen this brother. I remem- 
 bered that autumn day at Dalestonbury, and
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 219 
 
 my murdered dog, killed, cruelly and remorse- 
 lessly, by that very hand ; and — I could not 
 help it, strive as I would — a thrill of horror, 
 a feeling of sickening repulsion, had to be 
 overcome before I could lay my hand in his. 
 More than that, looking into his face at the 
 moment, I saw distinctly that he also remem- 
 bered the circumstances under which we had 
 last met. 
 
 ^ I am happy to see you, Henrietta,' he 
 said, immediately; *when did you come 
 home V 
 
 ' Only yesterday evening,' I replied. 
 
 ' It was very good of you to come down so 
 early,' he went on, and there was the old 
 surly tone, still existent, though marvellously 
 trained and softened by intoning, by educa- 
 tion, and, at this moment, by hollow polite- 
 ness. 
 
 'And you have made Fanny's acquaint- 
 ance ?' he remarked, turning to where his
 
 220 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 little wife stood in the background. ' Fanny,' 
 suddenly addressing her in slow, measured 
 tones, such as one uses to a refractory horse, 
 Mid you not know that my sister was 
 coming ?' 
 
 She gave a perceptible start when he 
 spoke, and answered meekly, only, 'No, 
 Marshall/ 
 
 * Father wrote a note to you, but you were 
 out when it arrived,' I explained. 
 
 ' I was going to suggest,' he continued, in 
 the same manner, ' that it might have been 
 well if you had looked a little more as you 
 should look to meet my sister for the first 
 time.' 
 
 ' You cannot always be dressed " as you 
 were going to a feast " when you have two 
 babies to attend to, can you, Fanny?' said I, my 
 benevolence aroused by her silent abasement, 
 and my zeal endeavouring to propitiate him to- 
 wards her by addressing her in friendly terms.
 
 Lyntoii Abbott's Children. 221 
 
 ' She is not the nursemaid/ interposed her 
 husband ; ' but she never looks decently tidy, 
 much less as my wife should look.' By this 
 time she seemed tolerably uncomfortable, and 
 he condescended to leave her for a moment to 
 extract the full suffering of this unkindness. 
 ' I suppose you came down because of poor 
 James's death, Henrietta ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' I repHed, briefly. 
 
 ^ How do you think our father is looking V 
 
 ' Tolerably well.' 
 
 ' And how did he receive you V 
 
 ^ Very kindly, indeed.' I was sympathising 
 with what I conceived must be poor Fanny's 
 humiliation, and not disposed to make long 
 sentences to her tormentor. But I should 
 have done her more service by keeping his 
 attention away from her. It went back 
 now. 
 
 ^ Did you know that I was a married 
 man V
 
 222 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 'Yes : Aunt Marshall just mentioned it.' 
 
 ' Ah I she has never seen my wife ; and 
 you may guess I wish she never shall. How 
 old should you think Fanny is T 
 
 Again my good breeding revolted at the 
 question, but I had not the social practice to 
 evade it. 
 
 ' About twenty-three/ I answered, there- 
 fore. 
 
 ' You only say that because you know my 
 age, and expect her to be a little younger/ he 
 asserted, with perfect truth. ' I am sure that 
 no one looking at her would imagine she was 
 only that age. But it is only causeless weep- 
 ing and wailing and complaining that have 
 made her so old in appearance. How is Aunt 
 Marshall, Henrietta V 
 
 I briefly replied. 
 
 ' She is a splendid woman, isn't she V he 
 said. ' She has such exquisite taste in all the 
 arranorements of her house, as well as in her
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 223 
 
 own dress. And I do detest a woman who 
 has no taste in dress, or who is too ugly for 
 dress to set oif.' 
 
 ' Yes, Aunt Marshall is unquestionably a 
 fine woman,' I agreed. 
 
 * Fanny !' he exclaimed, suddenly facing 
 round upon her. ^ It appears you will not 
 comply with an indirect request. I must 
 speak out. Please to go and put on yourself 
 a decent dress.' 
 
 * I must go,' I said, as the poor little girl 
 turned to leave the room. * Say *' good- 
 bye " to me, will you, Fanny.' 
 
 I went over to her, where she paused in the 
 middle of the carpet. My heart had warmed 
 to her now, and, as I took the hand she 
 offered, I put my other arm round her, and 
 kissed her forehead. She looked up at me 
 with eyes from which big tears were slowly 
 dropping over her wan cheeks. And I hope
 
 224 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 that, from that moment, she knew I was her 
 friend. 
 
 * Why do you scold your wife in public V I 
 asked the Kev. Marshall, in a low tone. 
 
 ' My dear Henrietta/ he rephed, so loudly 
 that she must have heard every word, though 
 she was outside the door before the sentence 
 was concluded, ' I do not consider you the 
 public. And even if I did, she deliberately 
 angers me enough for both public and private 
 remonstrances.' 
 
 He would walk with me as far as the 
 ■entrance to our own park ; and all the way 
 he kept the conversational ball rolling over 
 indifferent casual matters with a skill which 
 must have been of infinite service to him as a 
 :social clergyman. But when he left me at 
 the park gates, and I walked on alone, re- 
 flecting, I discovered that the dislike, the 
 abhorrence, which not all these years had
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children, 225 
 
 been able to remove from the memory of the 
 boy Marshall in me, had been transferred in 
 this hour to the present existing reality, the 
 Hev. the Vicar of Apsland. 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 226 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 The Eeverend Marshall Abbott, Vicar of 
 Apsleigh, was by no means unpopular in his 
 own neighbourhood. His actions and his 
 words were generally exactly what those of a 
 gentleman in his position and of his pro- 
 fession ought to be. He Avas never seen in 
 the hunting-field himself, but he took a keen 
 interest in the sport, and knew where the 
 hounds met and when, and had a host of 
 stories of remarkable runs and leaps, for the 
 country gentlemen who loved the subject. 
 He was a Justice of the Peace, and snubbed 
 offenders in the most approved style, when
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 227 
 
 their coats were ragged; and fined them a 
 few shillings, while he almost apologised to 
 them, when they happened to be clad in 
 fine linen and broadcloth. He was the 
 honorary chaplain of the workhouse, and 
 visited the paupers sufficiently to maintain 
 his character for clerical conscientiousness. 
 Above all, his voice was soft and his manner 
 composed of an agreeable mixture of deference 
 and familiarity when he addressed a lady. 
 Most of the neighbouring country gentrv, 
 therefore, preferred his church to the rival one 
 of Delham, which had an old vicar who was 
 guilty of following the hounds himself, who 
 paid no attention to county business, and who 
 was not — greatest crime of all — himself a 
 scion of a county family, as was my brother. 
 
 I went to church with my father on the 
 first Sunday after my arrival at home. Two 
 mild elderly curates divided the service be- 
 tween them, and their vicar, who was young 
 
 15—2
 
 228 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 enough to have been the son of either of 
 them, delivered the sermon. His text v^as 
 ' In honour preferring one another/ and his 
 discourse was, as his female hearers mostly 
 said, ' sweet.' 
 
 About half-a-dozen carriages waited at the 
 church door, and the owners of most of them, 
 partly moved by curiosity as to whom I might 
 be, waited to shake hands with the Master of 
 Apsleigh. There were several young ladies, 
 and two or three young gentlemen, and the 
 grandees, their papas and mammas. While 
 I was still exchanging the first few words of 
 politeness with some of the former, and my 
 father was yet enduring with what equanimity 
 he might the condolences of the latter, the 
 vicar came out of the church door to where 
 we stood, to be greeted with effusion by all 
 parties except his father and sister. 
 
 * And how is poor dear Mrs. Abbott?' asked 
 one gushing young lady, throwing the ques-
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 229 
 
 tion over my shoulder, chiefly to draw the 
 attention of the popular priest to herself. 
 
 A shade that might have been annoyance, 
 or might have been sorrow, passed over 
 Marshall's eyebrows, but he answered in his 
 softest tones, and without any hesitation : 
 
 ' How kind it is of you always to remember 
 my poor wife ! I am sorry she is no better. 
 It is a heavy cross, but we both try to sub- 
 mit with patience/ 
 
 He concluded with a most effective sigh. 
 
 ^ Ah !' responsively sighed the fair devotee ; 
 then, whispering in my ear as I stood beside 
 her : ' What heavenly patience the vicar 
 shows under his heavy affliction, dear Miss 
 Abbott. It improves us all to see it. Our 
 little trials are so light before his. Have you 
 seen your poor sister-in-law yet V 
 
 'Yes,' I replied simply, not a little mys- 
 tified. 
 
 ' It's all the spine, isn't it V chimed in a
 
 230 Lynton Ahhott^s Children. 
 
 second lady, who had overheard the last 
 speech. 
 
 Marshall was listening, I suppose, with one 
 ear, for he came to the rescue at once : 
 
 ' My sister knows but little yet of my poor 
 dear wife's condition,' he said, with a shade of 
 severity in his tone, enough to quench his too 
 talkative parishioners for the time ; ^ and she 
 will not, I am sure, give an unconsidered 
 opinion which might make me miserable. 
 We are such poor, impatient servants, we 
 cannot always take the Lord's doings as 
 mercy and goodness, and I cannot help 
 hoping that Mrs. Abbott may yet recover at 
 least sufficiently to receive our friends ; and 
 even a careless hint to the contrary depresses 
 me sadly.' 
 
 Again he finished with the effective sigh. 
 
 He had closed the topic. 
 
 ' Does Marshall really give it out that his 
 wife is too ill to be seen, sir V I asked my
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 231 
 
 father, as we strolled home alone with each 
 other. 
 
 ' Well/ said the master, unwillingly, ' I be- 
 lieve he does, Harry ; and I can't interfere, 
 I hate to talk about them. It's the burden 
 of my life. But the fact is, she certainly did 
 behave in a most unbearable manner when 
 he did try to take her into company.' 
 
 'What did she do?' I asked; chivalrous 
 pity for the crushed little woman, and incur- 
 able detestation of my own brother, making me 
 inclined to doubt this statement if it rested 
 only on his authority. 
 
 ^It is the sort of thing one can scarcely 
 explain definitely, although it is bad enough 
 to disgrace our position/ said my father, still 
 hesitatingly, and looking straight before him, 
 with his fine brows a Httle wrinkled. ' When 
 she first came, I wanted to make the best 
 of it, of course, and I had a few parties for 
 her at the Castle. My dear Harry — I don't
 
 232 Lynton Ahhotfs Children, 
 
 like to say it, but she really could not — she 
 could not even eat decently. She put her 
 knife in her mouth, and she took a chicken- 
 bone up in her fingers and scraped the meat 
 off it. And she dropped her knife and fork 
 and spoon and napkin regularly — Marshall 
 declared she did it for her next neighbour ta 
 pick them up. And she always spilt her 
 wine — and, in fact, I didn't think a girl who 
 had been brought up above the gutter could 
 behave so.' 
 
 * But, sir, was any of that bad enough to 
 send her into complete retirement for ? 
 Wasn't it mostly nervousness, don't you 
 think? And such things as scraping bone^ 
 down — couldn't Marshall have taught her 
 better at their own table, quietly V 
 
 ' Of course he tried that, my dear. Indeed, 
 that was the worst of it. When she did one 
 of these dreadful things she always looked 
 down the table to her husband, just as a dog
 
 Lyiiton Abhotfs Children. 233- 
 
 looks at his master after doing some wrong 
 thing — the most terrified look, as though she 
 expected to be immediately kicked. People 
 noticed it and gossipped about it, I am sure^ 
 though one never hears what is said about 
 one. The climax, Harry, was just a thing of 
 that sort. One evening, I had Sir James- 
 and Lady Coffin — she is the greatest scandal- 
 monger in Devon — and one or two other 
 people to dinner, and I asked Fanny to come 
 to play hostess ; in fact, T had the party 
 expressly to give her another trial, so to 
 speak. I must tell you that Marshall had 
 hinted to me that she was getting a habit 
 of taking too much wine, both at dinner 
 and other times. She sat facing me on this 
 occasion, and beside Sir James Coffin. Before 
 we had finished our soup she dropj)ed her 
 napkin, and, instead of ignoring it, or of 
 quietly asking one of the servants for another, 
 she pushed back her chair and picked it up
 
 234 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 for herself ; then, in raising herself again, she 
 knocked the handle of her knife or her fork 
 against her glass of claret, and deluged the 
 tablecloth with red wine.' 
 
 ' She did not wait for her neighbour to 
 pick it up that time, at all events,' I said, 
 charitably seeking for a mitigating point in 
 the indictment. 
 
 * Sir James is much too old and stout to 
 stoop for a thing of comparatively small 
 importance. But wait until I have finished 
 my story, my dear. I assure you I never 
 heard Marshall utter one w^ord of reproof 
 before, under any provocation. This time 
 he was sitting quite near her, and he said 
 only, in a very low tone, '' Oh, Fanny !" 
 And what do you think Mrs. Marshall 
 Abbott did ? Looked at him with the most 
 abject expression, and then burst into tears 
 and loud sobs as she sat at the head of my 
 table !'
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 235 
 
 * What did Marshall do V 
 
 ^ The worst part of the tale is to come. It 
 was this that created the greatest esclandre. 
 Marshall said, very quietly, ^^ If you do not 
 feel well, Fanny, you had better leave the 
 table for a moment or two." She took no 
 notice of this suggestion, and the other ladies 
 were beginning to get up, as though to go to 
 her assistance. Marshall left his seat, and 
 went round to her and touched her on the 
 shoulder. She looked up, and burst out, 
 *^ Oh, Marshall, don't ! It was an accident ! 
 I couldn't help it, indeed, Marshall !" This 
 before half-a-dozen gossipping county women 
 and my servants !' 
 
 ' It was dreadful ! Do you think it was 
 talked about V 
 
 * Of course it was, Harry. You are an in- 
 nocent fellow, fresh from school. You don't 
 imagine what a delight something to gossip 
 about is. Wait until you have seen a little
 
 236 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 more society, and then you will know how 
 our name would be bandied about over every 
 dinner-table, and whispered in every drawing- 
 room for months.' 
 
 ' What did Marshall say afterwards V 
 
 * Well, he came and had a long talk with 
 me about it. He told me plainly that he had 
 several times found her in a state of intoxi- 
 cation when he came home after some hours' 
 absence. I. confess I was very much upset 
 myself; and when he said that he was fully 
 resolved not to receive any more visitors at 
 the Vicarage, nor to permit her to pay visits, 
 until he had tried, by care and kindness, to 
 eradicate her worst habits, I offered no ob- 
 jection.' 
 
 ^ Care and kindness ! Papa, do you think 
 Marshall's kindness a reliable commodity V 
 
 ^ Harry,' said my father, very seriously, 
 ' you ought to know me better than to speak 
 in such a manner. You ought to be sure that
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 237 
 
 I believe only kindness and gentleness will be 
 shown by your brother to his wife ; that I 
 should not for a moment tolerate harshness 
 and unkindness being shown by one of my 
 sons to a woman; above all, when that woman 
 is his wife. But you appear to misjudge your 
 brother. I have never seen him show any- 
 thing but really wonderful patience in this 
 case.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you are right, sir ; Marshall and 
 I had some not over pleasant passages when 
 I saw him at Dalestonbury, years ago ; and^ 
 possibly, the remembrance of that time does 
 prejudice me against all that he does now.' 
 
 ^ Ha ! what happened between you then ? ' 
 asked my father, quickly. 
 
 But I, not seeing fit to take up so old a 
 memory, evaded the question, and we walked 
 in silence for a few moments ; then my father 
 added : 
 
 ' Marshall is a man who has wonderful self- 
 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 238 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 
 
 control. I have never seen anything cause a 
 violent outburst of passion in him. He feels 
 very strongly, I don't doubt, but he can 
 restrain it perfectly. There is no fear of his 
 natural grief and anger carrying him beyond 
 bounds.' 
 
 Ah ! my dear father ! Is it very self- 
 contained ? or may we call it very cunning, 
 instead? I know now. I did not know 
 then, but I suspected. 
 
 * Things are not what they seem.'
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 239 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 When the summer session of the medical 
 schools was drawing to a close, Willie got 
 leave of absence from his hospital work, and 
 came to visit his father. 
 
 I made an early endeavour to discover 
 if Willie's opinion of Marshall agreed with 
 my own. 
 
 ' WiUie, did I hear you say that you saw 
 Marshall yesterday V 
 
 * You did. I met him as I came from the 
 station.' 
 
 ' Now, Willie, honestly, what do you think 
 of Marshall V 
 
 ^ Jupiter ! what a question.' 
 
 16—2
 
 240 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 ' Nobody ever taught you that you mustn't 
 say *' Jupiter," I suppose V I interrupted. 
 
 * Of course not ! though perhaps ' 
 
 ' Never mind ; only it reminded me so of 
 old days. You used to be so fond of appeal- 
 ing to Jupiter when you were a boy, and I 
 caught it, and carried it to Dalestonbury ; and 
 how Aunt Marshall snubbed me about it I 
 Now, if I had had the good fortune to 
 be a male creature, I should say "Jupiter" 
 at this moment. Oh, what privileges of 
 sex!' 
 
 * When women get their rights, you girls- 
 will say all that we say, unreproved, I sup- 
 pose ? Nice times those will be !' 
 
 ' The " grey pre-eminence of man " is to be 
 assailed all round, you think ? I don't know 
 anything about it, except that I wish I had 
 been a man. Well, return to where you left 
 off: "Jupiter! what a question!" you said. 
 Go on/
 
 Lyntoii Ahhotfs Children. 241 
 
 ' What do you want to know V 
 
 ' Your opinion of our brother Marshall. Be 
 serious, Willie ; I am in earnest.' 
 
 ' But what an absurd thing to ask a fellow ! 
 I think he makes a very good priest.' 
 
 ^ Oh, you do ? Then I think you don't 
 know much. You must have seen him a good 
 deal, too, in all these years. Do you think he 
 is amiable ?' 
 
 ' Not by nature. On the contrary, I think 
 he is the most morose man I ever knew. But 
 he has good manners, don't you see ; so it 
 doesn't matter.' 
 
 * It doesn't matter to those who are not in 
 any way dependent on him, no doubt. Now 
 tell me, do you know his wife V 
 
 * Yes, I know her — in a way. I saw her 
 when they were jfirst married ; and have since, 
 at times.' 
 
 ' Do you suppose her to be a happy wife V 
 ' Oh, my dear Harry, I can't form opinions
 
 24:2 Lynton Abbott's Children. 
 
 on such domestic points. What are you 
 driving at, I want to know V 
 
 ' How long is it since you saw this young 
 Mrs. Marshall V 
 
 * It must be — let's think — yes^ two years. 
 They stayed here, you know, for some little 
 time before he was old enough to be ordained 
 priest, and I saw her then when I came down/ 
 
 ' Was Marshall kind to her then V 
 
 ' What a cross-examination ! What does 
 all this mean, Harry V 
 
 ' I saw her yesterday, and she did not look 
 happy.' 
 
 ' But, my dear Harry, she never did look 
 happy. She always looked as if she had just 
 been weeping. Some women are like that, 
 you know. What's that thing Toole quotes : 
 '' It is their nature toJ' They cry for nothing 
 or anything. Hysterical diathesis, of course. 
 Those little fat fair women generally have 
 more or less of it.'
 
 Lynton Abbot fs Children. 243 
 
 ^ Oh, WiUie, WilHe !' 
 
 ' What is it V 
 
 ' You have answered my question now ! 
 Poor little creature ! And you have not seen 
 her for the last two years ; nor has father seen 
 her for a long time. You give her up to the 
 tender mercies of Marshall, and let her feel that 
 the family she has come into simply ignores 
 and despises her.' 
 
 ' Come, Harry, don't talk nonsense. Have 
 you seen her ? Yes, you said so, I remember. 
 "Well, now, allow me to say that I think the 
 master did almost too much in allowing her 
 ever to come here. He had better have found 
 another shop for Marshall, in my humble 
 opinion. As to leaving her to her husband, 
 why, of course. He is as cross as a bear, very 
 likely ; but, then, some women like that way, 
 I am told — don't respect anything else.' 
 
 ' Now, Willie ! You can't believe it. Where 
 do you get that experience from ? Does Uncle
 
 244 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 Marshall make his wife weep every day ? 
 Does Uncle Henry snarl at his wife con- 
 stantly ? Those are the two households you 
 know best/ 
 
 Willie laughed out at this, in his merry 
 way. 
 
 ^ Fancy Uncle Henry snarling at a lady ! 
 And fancy Aunt Marshall crying because her 
 husband forgot to call her by a tender name ! 
 But, then, see how different the women are 
 from one another ! Depend upon it, Harry, 
 a wife generally makes her husband whatever 
 he is/ 
 
 ' Perhaps so, when the man is of a refined 
 nature, or when the woman is of a strong one ; 
 but with many exceptions to your theory 
 in practice. Like a slave-owner wdth a 
 slave ' 
 
 ' Oh, Harry, you just now told me that 
 you knew nothing about women's rights, and 
 there is the very tone of it 1 Comparing
 
 Lynton Abbot fs Children. 245 
 
 matrimony to slavery. ^' The wife is a slave.'* 
 That is the very thing to say, and I declare 
 you said it in the very manner.' 
 
 * I did not say that.' 
 
 But he took himself out of the room, pre- 
 tending not to hear my protest. I remained, 
 feeling more pitifully than before, even, 
 towards the poor young wife whose sorrows 
 I had divined in a moment, though men so 
 tender-hearted towards women as my father 
 and Willie had been quite unable to believe in 
 them. 
 
 ' One would suppose,' I soliloquised, * that 
 men think that so long as a wife is not 
 starved or kicked by her husband, she cannot 
 have anything to complain of with regard to 
 him. I suspect that men do not understand 
 how cruelly a woman can feel such seclusion 
 and isolation as this poor Fanny is living in, 
 and such brutality as I saw her husband dis- 
 play towards her the other day. Men have
 
 246 Lynton Abbott's Children, 
 
 so many interests outside their homes ; they 
 could not be made utterly miserable by their 
 domesticity, I suppose, and so they cannot 
 imagine how its storms can shake a woman. 
 But I could see at once how that poor little 
 creature is tormented day by day. Then my 
 father and Willie do not see her. I wish I 
 could help her ! Very likely when I come to 
 stay at home I shall be able. I would like 
 to deliver any living thing from Marshall's 
 clutches !' 
 
 During the rest of my stay at the Castle, 
 I saw my sister-in-law twice only, and each 
 time in her husband's presence. I called 
 upon her once or twice, alone, but received an 
 excuse from the servant on each occasion : 
 *Mrs. Abbott had B,n headache, and was lying 
 down,' or ^ Mrs. Abbott was very busy, and 
 would I wait for the master?' I did not 
 resent this, because I suspected that she was 
 forbidden to see me alone. But the conse-
 
 Lynton Abbott's Children. 247 
 
 quence was that I was almost as much a 
 stranger to her when I left home as I had 
 been before I arrived. Not quite so, how- 
 ever. 
 
 When I Avent, WilUe accompanied me, and 
 escorted me to the other end of England, to our 
 Aunt Marshall's. It had been arranged that 
 I should spend the last fortnight of the holidays 
 there, and that Helen should be invited also. 
 Willie seldom visited at Dalestonbury, but as 
 he had accompanied me he remained a week 
 there. 
 
 To my equal surprise and regret, Willie 
 and Helen managed to get up a state of war- 
 fare between them in that week. Not, of 
 course, actual belligerency, and open rude- 
 ness, but a constant current of antagonism 
 and sarcasm ran between them. It was 
 Helen's fault. Willie was much too amiable 
 for this to be congenial to him ; but Helen
 
 248 Lynton Ahhott's Children. 
 
 -amused herself by annoying him, and stinging 
 him into repartee. I was the only witness 
 of these petty encounters of wits ; in the 
 presence of my aunt, nothing could have been 
 more proper than Helen's maidenly reserve 
 and quiet distance of manner. 
 
 The week soon passed over, and I was 
 almost glad when Willie went; for I had 
 ^daily feared lest his sweetness of temper 
 should give way, and lest they might quarrel 
 in earnest. This would have been exceedingly 
 .annoying to me, inasmuch as Willie would be 
 at home in the house where Helen and I were 
 to go for our first London season. I said this 
 to Helen when Willie was gone. 
 
 ' I am actually glad to get him away, you 
 bad girl 1 How dared you tease him so ? 
 And how do you think he will like the pro- 
 spect of having you in the same house with 
 him in London V 
 
 * He will forget all about it before then/
 
 Lynton Ahhotfs Children. 249^ 
 
 replied Helen, in her most contemptuous 
 manner, as though she were sublimely in- 
 different to his opinions and wishes. 
 
 ' Indeed he will not,' I said, 'at all events, 
 he is certain not to forget it, even if he 
 forgives it/ 
 
 ' Ah !* said Helen, and nothing more. 
 
 It did not occur to me just then that to be 
 remembered was exactly what she had de- 
 signed, Willie might readily have forgotten 
 her politeness in the six months that were to 
 intervene before we went to London for our 
 season ; he would not forget her cutting 
 ridicule. Was it that Helen foresaw this? 
 She was a born diplomatist, as the future 
 showed. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
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