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THE 
 
/^// 
 
 THE HEIR OB' FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
Il 
 
 Digby's Popular Novel Series 
 
 Crown 8vo, handsome cloth, price 3s 6d each. 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CLEMENT 
 
 DuNRAVEN. By Jean Middlemass. 
 Author of 'A Gir' in a Thousarid,' etc. 
 
 (^Second Edition) 
 
 A HIDDEN CHAIN. By Dora Russell. 
 Author of 'The Other Bond/ ' Footprints 
 in the Snow,' etc. {Second Edition) 
 
 DR JANET OF HARLEY STREET. 
 
 By Dr Arabella Kenealy. Author of 
 ' Molly and her Man-o'-War,' etc. {Sixth 
 Edition with Portrait^ 
 
 THE JOLLY ROGER. By Hume Nisbet. 
 Author of ' Her Loving Slave,' ' Bail Up,' 
 etc. With Illustrations by the Author. 
 
 {Fifth Edition) 
 
 ^% Other Works in same Series in due course, 
 
 DTGBY, LONG k CO., Lon 
 
^ 
 
 T 
 
 The Heir of 
 Fairmount G-range 
 
 BT 
 
 AGNES MAULE MACHAR 
 
 tthor of * Balavd Oreen, Knight,' * Marjories Canadian Winter,' 
 'Down the River t.o the Sea,' etc., etc. 
 
 LONDON 
 IGBY, LONG <fe CO., PUBLISHERS 
 
 18 BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STREET, E.G. 
 
 TORONTO 
 The OOPP, CLARK Co., Limited 
 
E HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 PART I 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 *00R child ! poor child ! ' said Mrs Jocelyn, mus- 
 kgly, as she poured into her cup a liberal portion of 
 ie rich country cream which, as a Londoner, she 
 
 much appreciated, ' It is certainly very sad for 
 ir! I wish I could see what she had better do. 
 |think I shall write by the next mail to Caroline 
 
 rimer, to ask her if she can think of anything 
 litable for her, out in Canada. Mr Aylmer has 
 t)ne very well there, and as Caroline is so pros- 
 jrous herself, she might very well do something 
 \t poor Ethel ! I should be only too glad to have 
 iQ dear child myself, but really our accommodation 
 i 80 limited, and then Clara and I have so many 
 ^gagements for this summer — Clara is in atuch 
 
 juest, you see — and a stranger in deep mourning 
 )e8 interfere so mucii with all one's arrangements, 
 
6 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 for of course you can't take her on visits to your 
 friends, and she would be dreadfully dull if you 
 left her at home, alone I ' 
 
 * Quite so, Mrs Jocelyn,' replied an elderly gentle- 
 man beside her, to whom her remarks had been 
 addressed, and who might have sat for a type of 
 the old fashioned family lawyer ; ' the circum- 
 stances are indeed most deplorable. My good friend 
 Mr Howard seemed good for many years. Doubt- 
 less he thought so himself, and postponed makine 
 any special provision for his niece. And of courst 
 the present dendument was so unexpected, for, bj 
 all the laws of probability, this scapegrace of s 
 nephew should have worn himself out long ago ! * 
 
 ' Yes,' remarked an elderly lady, whose lank grej 
 curls shaded a mildly benevolent face of somewhai 
 sentimental expression ; ' It does seem sad that gooi 
 and ill should not be better apportioned in thii 
 world. To think of that poor prodigal Jaci 
 Howard, living on through all his follies, ani 
 turning up, now^ when no one thought of him, t: 
 rob poor Ethel of her natural rights I Pity no» 
 that cousin Henry hadn't taken my advice, an: | 
 brought her more out into society. Then he 
 future might have been satisfactorily provided fo; 
 for she really is unusually attractive. But wh^ 
 about that young Fane who used to be down her 
 so much ? Cousin Henry seemed to think ther 
 was — or would be — something between him an^ 
 
 I 1] 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 bhel. I saw them together once, and he seemed 
 
 lite devoted to the dear girl.' 
 
 I' Oh, very likely, my dear,* rejoined Mrs Ponsonby 
 
 tirically, ' no doubt he was quite devoted to the 
 
 ^iress of Fairraount Grange ! It is a very different 
 
 ling now. Of course, dear Ethel is very sweet 
 
 ^d graceful, and cultivated and all that ; but there 
 
 very few young men now-a-days who don't 
 
 )k out for something more. And for a young 
 
 m who has to make his living by his pen, to under- 
 
 |ke a wife, brought up as Ethel has been, would 
 
 simply heroic ; and heroes are not as thick as 
 
 ickberries! Besides, this young Fane seems to 
 
 getting into society, thanks mainly to the intro- 
 
 ictions he got from Henry. I believe he's quite 
 
 ^pular alrea<ly, so I'm afraid there isn't much 
 
 wpect in that direction.' 
 
 I 'Ah!* exclaimed Miss Ponsonby, 'it is too bad 
 
 |at there is so little chivalry and romance in this 
 
 htter-of-fact age. I can't bear to think of Ethel 
 
 ^ing thrown on the mercies of a cold world, after 
 
 the tender care and petting she has had so long ! ' 
 
 I' Well,' said Mrs Jocelyn, ' no one can say it's my 
 
 lit. I told Henry long ago that he should have 
 
 )ught her up to do something for herself. He 
 
 ight have had her musical talent more developed 
 
 any rate. Nothing like making a girl indepen- 
 
 >nt, especially when she's an orphan /' 
 
 ' Come now, my dear,' said her husband, who had 
 
8 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT ORANOE 
 
 been seemingly absorbed in his breakfast, 'don't 
 grudge the poor child the pleasant youth she has 
 had. She will be better for that all her life, 
 And no doubt things will turn out better than we 
 can see at present. You know " God tempers the 
 wind to the shorn lamb " ! ' With which consoling 
 reflection, which, he imagined, was taken from 
 Scripture, Mr Jocelyn applied himself with mucli 
 satisfaction to the completion of the business in 
 hand ; and the breakfast talk went on in that sub- 
 dued, decorous tone which people instinctively use 
 in a house where there has been a recent death. 
 
 The early May sun was shining pleasantly in at 
 the oriel window on the silver and glass of a well- 
 appointed breakfast table, fragrant with hyacinths 
 and Parma violets. The party that surrounded it 
 was evidently composed of members of various 
 households, collected together for some special 
 occasion, and that a mournful one, to judge bj J 
 their sombre attire, and the seriousness in manner 
 and appearance, which all endeavoured to maintain 
 There was, as might have easily been seen by a 
 close observer, no host or hostess present. 
 
 The only person who could have occupied that 
 position, the ' poor child ' of Mrs Jocelyn's commis- 
 eration, was at that moment lying on a couch in 
 her pretty dressing-room, looking nearly as whit< 
 as her wrapper, with hands passively folded, and 
 eyes dreamily fixed on a photograph that stood oe 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT O RANGE 
 
 little easel, on a table by her pide. It was the 
 
 )rtrait of a young man, with a bright and 
 
 handsome face, expressive in every line of a 
 
 Nervous, sensitive, and somewhat sensuous tempera- 
 
 lent. To Ethel Howard, just then, it seemed the 
 
 )le point of rest and solace in these sad days, 
 
 rhen all her old, familiar, tranquil life seemed 
 
 iuddenly overwhelmed with disaster, and the 
 
 pleasant little world in which she had lived from 
 
 ifancy was turned upside down. She had much 
 
 think of, 'poor child,* and that compassionate 
 
 Expression seemed appropriate enough to anyone 
 
 rho marked the delicate, chihliike contour of the 
 
 routhful face; the soft violet eyes, mistj^ with 
 
 Recent tears, the curved, sensitive lips, compressed 
 
 rith a resolute quietness. It was the face of one 
 
 ^ho would feel far more than she would be likely 
 
 express, and so would suffer all the more 
 
 Intensely, in silence. 
 
 Many perplexing thoughts thronged into her 
 
 iiind as she lay there ; fond memories of the past, 
 
 lingled with a shrinking dread of the future, the 
 
 former so sweet and bright with protecting love and 
 
 tenderness, the latter so blank and desolate, save 
 
 for the one ray of sunshine of which the bright face 
 
 In the photograph was the outward expression. It 
 
 'as not wonderful that she should cling to the 
 
 issociations it represented, and to the solitude of 
 
 ler own room ; shrinking, naturally enough, from 
 
10 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 the well-intended but rather trying sympathy of the 
 relatives who had collected at Fairmount Grange 
 for the funeral of her uncle and adopted father, the 
 only one she had ever known. 
 
 Only a few days before, the Grange, over whose 
 quiet rural beauty so dark a cloud seemed now to 
 rest, had been as happy a home as could easily have 
 been found. Mr Howard, a quiet and studious 
 recluse, had been one of the most loveable of men ; 
 and, having taken his orphan niece into his heart 
 as well as his home, he had left nothing undone that 
 indulgent affection could do for her happiness and 
 welfare. Some people said, indeed, that her mother, 
 whom she strikingly resembled, had been the object 
 of his own early love, and that her marriage to his 
 brother had made him a bachelor for life. Certainly 
 no father could have been more affectionate and 
 thoughtful; and, as his adopted daughter, and the 
 future mistress of Fairmount Grange, Ethel had 
 had as happy a life, with as hopeful a future, a» 
 could fall to the lot of any girl. At least she had 
 thought so until she had met Edgar Fane, and 
 discovered that the only lack in her little paradise 
 was now supplied in his evident devotion and 
 unconcealed pleasure in her society. He had first 
 found his way to Fairmount Grange as the young 
 tutor of a reading party, one of whom was a near 
 connection of Mr Howard, and a frequent visitor at 
 the Grange. Mr Howard bad been much taken 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE ii 
 
 rith the young man's pleasant manner, bright talk, 
 
 id good scholarship, and had done what he could 
 
 promote the literary career in which young Fane 
 
 ras just beginning to achieve some success. People 
 
 prophesied a brilliant future for him, and Mr 
 
 [oward, who cared far more for intellect and 
 bterary tastes, than for more material possessions, 
 ised to watch the growing attraction between young 
 
 i'ane and Ethel with kindly interest, and would 
 ^mile quietly to himself as he watched them linger- 
 
 ig in the pleasant walks about the Grange, and 
 ^bought how well they suited each other, and how 
 le could bear to think of leaving his dear Ethel 
 
 rith one like Edgar Fane to take care of her — and 
 ^airmount Grange. There had been no positive 
 mgagement, nor even any definite love-making — 
 ihat would have been premature on the young man's 
 )art — but Mr Howard saw that things were drift- 
 ing in that direction, and was not sorry to see it. 
 for Ethel, she would scarcely have owned to her- 
 
 )lf, much less to any one else, that Edgar Fane 
 
 md she were anything more than friends. But 
 
 rhen the sudden death of her uncle ha<] left her 
 
 lome desolate, her heart involuntarily took refuge 
 
 the thought of the one friend to whom she in- 
 
 itinctively turned for comfort in the sudden 
 
 itastrophe which had swallowed up all the bright- 
 less of her life, and changed the whole colouring of 
 ier future. 
 
12 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 
 I i 
 
 For Fairmount Grange had been an entailed 
 property, a thing which had seemed of small impor- 
 tance, so long as the 'scrapegrace nephew,' Jack 
 Howard, had been suj^posed dead — the natural con- 
 sequence of the dissipated habits which had 
 wrecked his career and made him an aimless 
 wanderer. He had not been heard from for more 
 than ten years, and Mr Howard had so fully per- 
 suaded himself that he must have died abroad, that 
 he had scarcely felt a misgiving as to his adopted 
 daughter finding any obstacle to her undisputed 
 succession. The property was not large, but 
 neither the owner nor the heir presumptive pos- 
 sessed any extravagant tastes, and Ethel had 
 reigned as a small princess in her little domain, 
 assuming more and more the reigns of government, 
 as her indulgent uncle grew more and more passive, 
 more absorbed in his favourite books and studies. 
 But, very shortly before his unexpected death, the 
 prodigal had reappeared at Fairmount Grange, to 
 his uncle's great dismay. Mr Howard had speedily 
 persuaded him to take his departure to a safe 
 distance from the Grange and from Ethel, whom he 
 did not wish even to see this unpresentable cousin. 
 She, although she knew of his arrival, did not in 
 the least appreciate the gravity of the situation, 
 having been so accustomed to regard her present 
 life as a matter of course, that the idea of any 
 change never occurred to her for a moment. It 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 13 
 
 was, then, with a strange bewilderment — scarcely 
 amounting to realisation, that she heard the truth, 
 which the old family lawyer broke to her as gently 
 as possible — that she had now no claim to the home 
 which had been hers so long, and that Fairmount 
 Grange 'vas the property of a man with whom she 
 [could not wish to have any intimacy. 
 
 The discovery seemed rather to add poignancy 
 I to her grief for the loss of her uncle, than to trouble 
 her for herself. The thought of hit; beloved home 
 passing into the hands of so unworthy a successor 
 was inexpressibly bitter — indeed intolerable to her ; 
 and for a time the double shock had so prostrated 
 [the poor girl, that she seemed to lie passi f^ under 
 its weight. Mrs Jocelyn had applied all the con- 
 eolation that occurred to her, interspersed with 
 hints which her practical mind could not quite 
 suppress — that Ethel must brace herself to meet 
 the altered situation, and think what it would be 
 ibest for her to do. At first this scarcely conveyed 
 any meaning to her mind ; but gradually it dawned 
 on her, that the calamity which had befallen her, 
 \meant that she could no longer live the happy 
 j careless life she had hitherto done — that she must 
 expect to earn her own living, like other poor girls 
 !she had known — Marion Evans, for instance, the 
 llate Rector's daughter, who had been obliged to 
 I take a situation as a governess. Unless — ! But she 
 shrank sensitively from her aunt's broad hint about 
 
w 
 
 14 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 the attentions of Edgar Fane. She had never 
 allowed herself to put the idea of marriage 
 definitely to her own mind — even as the heiress 
 of Fairmount Grange, and now that things were so 
 changed, it was horrible to have it suggested as a 
 possible alternative from a life of poverty and 
 struggle. Edgar Fane, she knew, was still striving 
 to make good his foothold on the lowest rounds of 
 the ladder that leads to prosperity, if not to fame. 
 How could she, for the present, think of adding to 
 his cares, even if he should ask her to do so ? It 
 was, therefore, with strangely mingled feelings 
 that she gazed sadly at the photograph, and re-read 
 once more, the little note expressing sympathy, and 
 promising an early visit, which she had received 
 shortly after the news of Mr Howard's death had 
 reached the writer. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 Liss Howard forced herself to come down to 
 
 |inner that evening, to take her place once more at 
 16 head of her uncle's table. It would not be long 
 lat she would be called to play the part of hostess, 
 id she felt that she must do her duty to her 
 lests while she could. The man of law had taken 
 
 ^is departure. Mr and Mrs Jocelyn and Miss 
 
 ^onsonby were still there, and the latter frequently 
 
 iperiled Ethel's hardly maintained composure, by 
 
 Lpressions of sympathy which she could well have 
 
 )ared. 
 
 ' Ah ! a sad change for you, my love, are you sure 
 
 ^ou feel equal to being down stairs ? Poor Henry ! 
 
 pw I miss him at every turn.' So persistently 
 ^mpathetic was the good lady indeed, that the 
 
 practical Mrs Jocelyn at last interposed somewhat 
 larply, begging her ' for goodness sake to try to 
 link of something else for a little while, and let 
 
 ^oor Ethel have some peace.' 
 Mr Jocelyn indulged in a few mild platitudes. 
 
 tif^mai' 
 
■Iff' 
 
 16 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 ■• I 
 
 keeping up at least a show of conversation, for 
 which Ethel was duly grateful. Above all things 
 she dreaded any allusion to Edgar Fane, from 
 whom, during the day, she had had a few lines 
 announcing a visit the next morning ; and her heart 
 beat painfully at the thought of the interview she 
 longed for and yet half dreaded. She had never 
 seen Edgar under the least shadow of sadness, and 
 she wondered how he, who loved sunshine and 
 happiness, would bear himself under circumstances 
 so sorrowful. She bravely maintained her com- 
 posure, however, even offering Mr Jocelyn the 
 game of backgammon in which she knew he 
 delighted, but which he declined, with a com- 
 passionate glance at the pale, resolutely calm face, 
 with the dark shadows under the eyes speaking of 
 sorrow and sleepless nights, which it seemed so 
 strange to see on Ethel Howard's fair young face. 
 
 ' As we can't very well expect to enjoy your 
 music yet, my dear, I won't trouble you to entertain 
 me in any other way. I think you had much 
 better retire early, and get some sleep if you can.' 
 
 It seemed very strange to Ethel to go up stairs 
 without the affectionate kiss and blessing that had 
 been wont to dismi.ss her nightly to rest. The soft 
 May moonlight found its way into her room through | 
 a half open shutter, and she sat for a long time 
 looking out at the broad lawn, silvered by the 
 moonlight, and flecked by the deep shadows of the \ 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 17 
 
 jdars, and the lighter tracery of the blossoming 
 irnbs. It was all so 9weet, so peaceful — she felt 
 hard to believe that he who had seemed the 
 jntre and life of it all had left it for ever. Where 
 ras he now ? And she soon lost herself in those 
 ristful but vain attempts to guess at the conditions 
 
 |f the unseen life, that haunt every mourner, till 
 le almost lost the thought of Edgar, and weariness 
 
 |t last brought on the first refreshing sleep she had 
 
 pown since her great bereavement. 
 'I wonder whether he will think all this black 
 
 [ery unbecoming and dreadful,' Ethel could not 
 jsist asking herself, as she stood before her mirror 
 
 [ext morning and criticised the effect of her sombre 
 lourning draperies, whkh, under Mrs Jocelyn's 
 ipervision, had been so heavily loaded with crape. 
 
 Bthel had often heard Edgar talk impatiently of 
 le conventional paraphernalia of mourning, and 
 ly how he disliked it. Would it repel him now ? 
 le wondered. But he would be blind indeed if he 
 )uld not see how strongly the black surroundings 
 
 [eightened the exquisite delicacy of her complexion, 
 lot pale, but fair,' the finely moulded features and 
 le shining coils of soft chestnut hair that seemed 
 le natural complement of the dark violet eyes. 
 
 fhe sorrowful expression, so unwonted on the fair 
 
 [oung face, had given to the wistful curves of her 
 louth a new expression of softness and pathos, 
 ^o any careful observer, Ethel Howard seemed, in 
 
 B 
 
m 
 
 18 Tim HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 her deep mourning, sweeter and nobler than per 
 haps she had ever looked before. 
 
 She was far too restless and nervous to wait ii 
 the house the expected arrival ; and she was anxioi^, 
 to get away from the curious and observant ey 
 of which she was painfully conscious. She feii 
 too, as if she could not bear to see Edgar enter tin 
 familiar rooms where he had always before et 
 countered Mr Howard's unaffected welcome. St 
 occupied herself, therefore, in strolling about tl 
 grounds, watching the Scotch gardener, Brown, i 
 work among the flower-beds, replying to his k 
 quiries as to what she thought of his summe 
 arrangements, forgetting, for the time being, tk^ 
 she was no longer in a position to give him orders 
 and mournfully surveying the rich beauty of It 
 hyacinths that had been her uncle's especial prii 
 and delight. 
 
 * What would you think about the calceolarkj 
 Miss Ethel,' asked Brown, * would you think they c 
 the verbenas would look best yonder? They': 
 just about ready to set out.* •• 
 
 *Mr Howard always liked the calceolarias be 
 over there. Brown. He liked to see the gold relievi 
 against the dark green of the ceder boughs. M 
 do as you think best, yourself,' she said, a stran; 
 pang striking her as she thought that neither k 
 uncle or she would enjoy them there that summf 
 She turned away with a sigh ; and Brown, recoil 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE 19 
 
 Iff himself, sighed too, and said to himself, as he 
 ^rushed away the moisture from his eyes with his 
 loat sleeve, * Poor lassie ! poor lassie ! it's a sad 
 Ihange for her, as well as for the rest of us.' 
 
 If Mr Fane comes, Thompson/ Ethel had said to 
 
 Ihe faithful old servant who discharged the various 
 
 (uties of butler and footman, ' you can tell him he 
 
 rill find me up at the beech-tree seat.' 
 
 ' Very well. Miss Howard,' he had replied, glad 
 
 hear that his young mistress was going to have 
 
 le consolation of a visit from her handsome young 
 
 )ver, in which character the household at Fair- 
 
 lount Grange had by common consent recognised 
 
 \\m. 
 
 It was a fair English scene that lay before Ethel, 
 
 she sat under the copper beech, just budding into 
 
 jaf. Fairmount Grange took its name from the hill 
 
 lat rose behind it, commanding a charming view 
 
 |ver undulating pastoral country, with a typical 
 
 [illage and church in the foreground, glimpses of a 
 
 rinding river, and a range of misty blue hills 
 
 [eyond. Ethel had often sat there with her uncle 
 
 [r Edgar Fane, enjoying the changeful beauty of 
 
 le scene, in the early morning or evening hours. 
 
 Tow, the same familiar landscape was before her, 
 
 |ut she scarcely noticed its beauty. A choking 
 
 jeling of suspense, which she scarcely understood, 
 
 )sorbed every other impression ; little as it was 
 
 lisible in the calm, somewhat set face, paler than 
 
 . 5 
 
w 
 
 fo THE UEIB OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 ui tiiiiiii 
 
 usual, and still paler from the contrast with tl 
 dead black of her draperies. | 
 
 It seemed to her that she had sat there a Ion 
 time, absently noticing the changes of light ac 
 shade on the distant woods, clothed in the fir 
 tender green of spring, as the light clouds flittt | 
 over the soft May sky, when, at last, a well knoT 
 footstep, quick and elastic, approached on t: 
 winding ascent. Ethel sat very still, watching f; 
 the first glimpse of the approaching figure- 
 young man fashionably and faultlessly attire 
 whose usually bright face was strangly pale ai 
 agitated. Ethel was indeed visibly the calmer 
 the two as he pressed her hand silently, with e^ 
 dent emotion, which seemed at first to prevt: 
 further expression. Ethel was the first to speak 
 
 ' It was so kind of you to come,' she said ; thee 
 seemed as if she too could get no further. 
 
 * I should have come before, if I could,' he sai 
 hurriedly, *it was awfully hard to stay in to? 
 trying to work, while my thoughts were with y 
 down here ; but I had a pile of work that must 
 finished before I could leave. How hard it m^. 
 all have been for you, the suddenness of the she 
 the sad duties, and then all these painful and uiit 
 pected consequences ! ' 
 
 ' You have heard, then,' she said, glad to esca, 
 a more direct allusion to her bereavement, of wliij 
 it seemed impossible for her to speak. Edgar to 
 
TUE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 21 
 
 ler query with the same sense of relief. What 
 solation for a mourner had Ae, indeed, to offer, 
 ^hom the ' resurrection and the life ' were but 
 I* illusion of the mind ! ' 
 
 [Yes,* he exclaimed, 'I have heard what an 
 istice you have to suffer, through this precious 
 ii( they call ' law ' ! I've always maintained that 
 tfiit blessed law of entail is a survival from a primi- 
 t|t e barbarism. To think that a scamp like your 
 isiii (I beg your pardon for calling him so, but 
 lan't think of it with patience), should come in to 
 you of what is yours by every moral right and 
 isideration ! If ever I have a chance, I shall, at 
 it, have a try at helping to upset such a wretched 
 item!' 
 
 It seemed very strange at first,' said Ethel 
 [ietly ; ' but I think I am growing reconciled to 
 idea. I had no idea that Fairmount Grange 
 lid ever seem so unhomelike a place as it does, 
 [w that he is gone who made it home ! * Her lips 
 id eyelids quivered slightly, but she controlled 
 Irself with an effort. 
 
 I* It is intolerable to think of your having to 
 ive your home,' he said with real emotion. ' Dear 
 Lss Howard, dear Ethel, I can hardly realise it, 
 )u can't think how trying it has been to me 1 ' 
 is voice had sunk so low that it was barely 
 idible. Ethel sat very still and pale, with an ex- 
 ression of forced composure. Yet the words 
 
32 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 • dear Ethel ' seemed to be what her heart had been 
 hungering for during all these dreary days. 
 
 * And now,' he continued, ' what would I not give 
 to be in a position to offer you — not my heart, for 
 that I am sure you know is yours already — but a 
 home worthy of you. It would be the sweetest 
 thing life could bring me. And here I am tied 
 absolutely by the hard facts of existence 1 Before 
 your uncle's death, I was withheld from asking for 
 your love, by the fear that my devotion might be 
 misunderstood. Now the obstacle is, utter inability 
 at present to offer you anything but a share in a 
 struggle for existence, which is hard enough for 
 myself alone ! ' 
 
 He stopped as if for a reply. But what was there 
 to say ? A chill seemed creeping over Ethel's heart. 
 She had thought of all this herself, over and over 
 again. She had been wont to dream os maidens 
 will, of a warm impassioned love that will not look 
 at obstacles, and holds nothing impossible, so that 
 it may win the prize of all prizes, and she had 
 unconsciously allowed herself to associate these 
 dreams with the thought of Edgar Fane. She had 
 been prepared for an offered sacrifice, for an appeal 
 to wait for a home to be won by steadily patient 
 toil and struggle; and she had been prepared to 
 refuse to accept the sacrifice — to refuse to let a 
 generous heart pledge itself to what it might yet 
 regret. But she was not prepared to be a passive 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 23 
 
 istener to the statement of the impossibility of it 
 1]], and her heart sank with a sense of loss and 
 mmiliation that sent the blood to her heart and left 
 ler paleness paler. 
 
 ' It's awfully hard/ he continued presently, * when 
 (ne thinks of the difference a very little more 
 loney might make to one, and see other fellows 
 positively rolling in it, and fooling it away ! This 
 ^ousin of yours — what good will it be to him to 
 ike what should have been ,yours ? And litera- 
 ture is such a precarious thing ! Even when one 
 lakes a hit, one may not repeat it till the Greek 
 [alends — and meantime one must wait — and 
 \tarve ! ' 
 
 He spoke so bitterly that Ethel, for the moment, 
 jeased to feel her own pain, in sympathy with 
 jtruggling genius. She did not think of noticing 
 ^he perfection of his costume in every detail, or of 
 jalculating its probable cost. She had been too 
 luch accustomed to such perfection in those about 
 ler, not to take such things as a matter of course. 
 ^0 be sure the young curate, who was saving his 
 little income in order to marry Marian Evans, wore 
 ^ery threadbare coats, but she bad never connected 
 these two circumstances. Her sympathy overcame 
 the involuntary sense of disappointment, and she 
 spoke at last. 
 
 ' I am so sorry, Mr Fane,' she said gently, ' that 
 rou have such a hard struggle. I wish I could help 
 
24 THE UEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 m 
 
 
 it. I know my uncle would have tried to make it 
 easier for you, if — but pease don't say anything 
 morf* about me. I am not worrying about ihxit at 
 all. A woman can get on with very little, and I 
 have so many friends — and my music ! ' 
 
 * But I want you to understand how I love you — 
 how inexpressibly painful it is to me, to resign the 
 sweetest hope of my life. Perhaps a brighter day 
 may tome, when I shall be able to throw myself and 
 my success at your feet, and ask you to accept 
 both ! ' 
 
 He spoke now with force and fervour, as he 
 flattered himself ; and, indeed, in look and tone he 
 seemed, for the moment, the impassioned lover of 
 Ethel's day-dream. 
 
 But her maidenly pride had been deeply hurt, 
 and she would not even meet his eye. She 
 summoned all her self-control, and said, with quiet | 
 dignity, 'We need not discuss such remote possi- 
 bilities noWy Mr Fane. I quite understand your 
 position, and I am sorry you should think it 
 necessary to explain it. Suppose we walk down to 
 the house. What a lovely morning it is ! I think 
 the spring tints never looked so exquisitely tender!* 
 
 Edgar Fane would have liked to prolong the 
 interview, but her manner was so decided, that he 
 had no choice but to follow her lead, and they 
 walked slowly on, keeping up with some success, 
 an indifferent conversation. They had walked on 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIBMOUNT GRANGE 25 
 
 for some distance, when, to Ethel's relief, they 
 encountered Mr Jocelyn leisurely taking his 
 morning stroll. He invited them to accompany 
 him to look at a young plantation, but Ethel 
 excused herself by saying that she wished to return 
 to the house at once, suggesting very decidedly that 
 Mr Fane should accompany her uncle. She turned 
 down a walk that led towards the house; but 
 suddenly a thought seemed to strike her, and, 
 taking a little private path by which they were 
 wont to go to church, she soon found herself at a 
 little wicket gate leading into the churchyard. 
 There was no one within sight, and she made her 
 way at once to her uncle's new-made grave. She 
 sat motionless for a time, as one stunned and 
 bewildered. Then as she seemed to wake to 
 recognition of the circumstances, she hid her face 
 in her hands, and gave way to a rush of tears that 
 \ seemed to relieve a little the pent-up emotion which 
 I had weighed on her heart like lead. Her slight 
 form quivered from head to foot, till the first 
 violence of the paroxysm had spent itself, and she 
 murmured, * My dear, dear uncle ! I shall never 
 have anyone to love me as you did ! Oh, why did 
 you leave me I Oh uncle Henry ! ' She was 
 weeping quietly again, somewhat calmer and more 
 composed, trying to steady herself entirely'' before 
 returning to preside at the luncheon table with the 
 dignity that befitted her uncle's darling. Her eyes 
 
26 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
 were fixed on the grave beside her, and so absorbed 
 was she in thought that she did not hear approach- 
 ing footsteps, which came to a sudden stop at sight 
 of the graceful figure- in black seated by the grave. 
 The man who approached was not young, and, 
 despite his garb, that of a gentleman, had a shabby* 
 unkempt appearance. His face was not merely 
 tanned by exposure, but flushed with an ominous 
 dark red hue that betrayed its origin clearly enough. 
 
 His step was unsteady even now, though he 
 endeavoured to steady it as he approached the 
 figure, whose identity he seemed at once to divine. 
 It startled Ethel from her abstraction, and she 
 looked up, a vague instinctive hope rising against 
 her will. She rose hastily to her feet, as she 
 encountered the fixed and evidently interested gaze 
 of the stranger's dull, heavy eyes. And, notwith- 
 standing his generally disreputable appearance* 
 there was enough of the Howard in his form and 
 features, taken in connection with his downward 
 glance at herself and the new-made grave, to enable 
 her to guess quickly who he was. Presently he 
 spoke, in a voice that he tried to steady, which, 
 thick and tremulous as it was, reminded her pain- 
 fully of her uncle. 
 
 * My cousin. Miss Howard, I suppose. Excuse me 
 if I intrude ; allow me to introduce your unworthy 
 servant and cousin, Jack Howard — myself ! ' 
 
 Ethel bowed. She could not bring herself to 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 27 
 
 shake hands with the dissipated looking strarger, 
 and a hot flush rose rapidly to her pale cheek, as 
 she felt the sting of humiliation that a man like 
 this should be her cousin and her uncle's representa- 
 tive. She wished to reply courteously to his self- 
 introduction, but words did not come readily. 
 
 * I'm awfully sorry — indeed I am,' he continued 
 in the soft, rich voice, which seemed the only 
 gentlemanlike trait he had not lost. 'Awfully cut 
 up, I assure you — to inconvenience any lady 1 
 Hope you won't think it necessary to make any 
 change. There's lots of room in the Grange, — you 
 know. I didn't like to ask to see 3^ou, but I wanted 
 to say that I shouldn't on any account wish to dis- 
 turb you, and you could get some old lady to stay 
 with you — Miss Ponsonby, perhaps ! I met her 
 just now, and she has been talking to me like a 
 mother. I shan't want to be at the Grange, much, 
 and when I did go there I shouldn't disturb you 
 any more than I could help.' 
 
 'You are very kind, indeed, Mr Howard,' Ethel 
 replied. She could not call him by his Christian 
 name. ' But the Grange would not seem home to 
 me without Uncle Henry.* 
 
 The dull, unsteady eyes were again fixed 
 admiringly on her pale, sweet flowerlike face. A 
 new idep; seemed to penetrate his half stupified 
 mind. 
 
 ' Why couldn't we make it home for you * he said. 
 
28 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 •i i 
 
 i 
 
 
 ' Why couldn't you just change the Miaa Howard 
 to Mrs Howard and remain mistress at the Grange, 
 just as you always have been ! / shouldn't trouble 
 you much, so it wouldn't make much difference to 
 you, you know. I should like that awfully ^ indeed 
 I should ! I can't bear the idea of being a nuisance 
 to you, indeed I can't. Don't turn away like that. 
 Do think of it, Miss Howard — Cousin Ethel — if 
 you'll let me take the liberty ! ' 
 
 He spoke with the insistence with which a man 
 in his condition will sometimes press a sudden idea 
 which has seized upon his mind. Ethel could 
 divine that he had fortified himself previously in 
 his usual way. Her face was aUcrnately flushing 
 and paling. She felt as if she had been subjected 
 to another intolerable humiliation. That a man 
 like this should ever dream of hinting at marriage 
 to her, who had scarcely thought of it definitely in 
 connection even with Edgar Fane ! It stung her as 
 much as a coarse insult would have wounded a less 
 sensitive girl. Yet she felt that it was not intended 
 disrespectfully ; and that this man, wreck as he 
 was, had yet some real chivalry in his nature. 
 With a great effort she replied, ' It is really very 
 kind of you, Mr Howard, but I trust you will feel 
 that it is impossible for me to think of such a thing, 
 and please oblige me by not speaking of it again. 
 Are you not going back to the Grange ? Mr and 
 Mrs Jocelyn will be glad to see you at luncheon.* 
 
 i 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 29 
 
 As she spoke, she turned to lead the way from the 
 churchyard, the last place in which she cared to be 
 disturbed by this most unwelcome intruder. But 
 it could not be helped, and she felt that he was 
 scarcely accountable for what he said. It was only 
 another consequence of her loss, and her unprotected 
 condition, she bitterly felt. 
 
 But poor Jack Howard had sense enough to feel 
 ' that he had put his foot in it,' and that his pre- 
 sence was unwelcome. Nor was he at all anxious 
 tohavc any more of Mrs Jocelyn's or Miss Ponsonby's 
 society, than he had had in his very short call. In 
 the most courteous manner he could, he bade Miss 
 Howard ' Good-morning,' saying that he should go 
 back to the village inn where he had already put up, 
 as he should leave for London by the afternoon train. 
 Ethel was inwardly much relieved. It was hard 
 enough to meet Edgar Fane at luncheon, but to 
 meet him in the presence of this man, who claimed 
 such near kinship, would have been too great a 
 humiliation. Yet, in spite of the repulsion he had 
 inspired, she could not help having a kindly feeling 
 for poor Jack Howard, at least after his heavy 
 shambling figure had disappeared from her view. 
 
 Edgar Fane travelled to London by the same 
 afternoon train, after a commonplace farewell to 
 Miss Howard and her relatives; but though he 
 knew very well who his fellow-traveller was, he 
 took care to give him a wide berth. He had, indeed 
 
30 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 bitter thoughts of his own to occupy him. Fair- 
 mount Grange, with Ethel Howard as its mistress, 
 had at least been a charming * castle in the air,' and 
 now it was in ruins. And Ethel ejected from her 
 possessions was impossible for him. ' It was just | 
 his luck,' which he duly bewailed, thinking, as the 
 train rattled on, of the pleasant chapter in his life 
 which was now closed, whatever other chapters 
 might hereafter open. As for Ethel herself, she 
 lay in her quiet room, exhausted with the agitation 
 she had undergone, feeling as if the only chapter 
 of her life had come to an end, and the future had 
 nothing more to look forward to. And indeed 
 Ethel Howard would never be quite the same light- 
 hearted girl again. A deeper and more lasting 
 happiness she might have — that which comes from 
 bearing and overcoming, but precisely what she had 
 had before she could not in the nature of things 
 again experience. 
 
 liiibi'' 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 A MONTH had dragged slowly by at Fairmount 
 Grange, where Ethel had always found the time to 
 fly 100 swiftly. That she still remained in her old 
 home was somewhat contrary to her own desire, 
 although her heart still clung to its dear associa- 
 tions, and she shrank with dread from the final 
 leavetaking, which the old servants and dependants 
 would feel almost as much as she did. But it was 
 not quite clear yet what were to be her plans for the 
 future. A life cannot be torn up by the roots and 
 transplanted in a day. And as the solution of the 
 problem seemed so diflficult to arrive at, Mrs 
 Jocelyn's practical mind had decreed that she 
 should for the present remain at the Grange, 
 having as her companion Miss Ponsonby, who was 
 by no means reluctant to enjoy this pleasant 
 change in her own restricted life, and to assume 
 a position which she would have liked for a 
 permanent one. Indeed she had always felt herself 
 somewhat injured, in that her cousin Henry had 
 
Llll 
 
 32 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE 
 
 not long ago installed her as the mistress of Fair- 
 mount Grange. She was not, however, a very cheer- 
 ful companion for Ethel. Her sympathy was too 
 obvious and insistent, and poor Ethel often shrank 
 from her openly expressed commiseration for the 
 loss of Fairmount Grange, almost as much as she 
 did from the more veiled and hinted sympathy in 
 the severer trial which all could guess at, though 
 Miss Howard never referred, in the most distant 
 way, to Mr Fane's existence. She had received a 
 letter from him after his return to London, a letter 
 that seemed to express the conflicting feelings that 
 alternately swayed him, the vivid remembrance of 
 Ethel's charms, with a stronger realisation of the 
 •hard facts' of life, and the rash imprudence of 
 committing himself to a life of struggle and self- 
 denial for which he felt himself so entirely unfitted. 
 He bewailed the hard fate that had crossed his 
 plans and hopes ; but he thought very little about 
 the prospects and fate of the girl he professed to 
 love. She had replied to his letter as curtly as she 
 had done to his spoken appeal, begging him to 
 banish the matter from his mind, and wishing him 
 all success in his present work. Fane — always 
 sensitive — read, or fancied he read between the lines, 
 at least a suggestion of the contempt which, in his 
 inmost heart he knew he deserved, and would 
 probably receive from a girl like Ethel. And, to 
 escape unpleasant reflections, he followed her advice 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 33 
 
 with greater ease than he had believed possible, 
 being greatly helped in this by a wished-for invita- 
 tion for a few days' shooting in August, the party 
 invited including, as he knew, the pretty Niss 
 Addington, with whom he had had a rather pro- 
 nounced flirtation during the preceding winter. 
 
 Ethel tried to take up her broken life again as 
 best she could, — read, worked, and walked with 
 Miss Ponsonby ; even trying the piano occasionally, 
 las she knew her uncle would have wished her to 
 [do. But every spot she visited, — every book she 
 took up had some strong association with either 
 her uncle or Edgar Fane. Every piece of music 
 had tender associations with the pleasant evening 
 hours when her uncle had sat by apparently buried 
 in book or newspaper, but ever and anon uttering 
 some word of affectionate appreciation, and Edgar 
 Fane had stood by her side, turning the leaves, and 
 occasionally accompanying her in a song. Every 
 walk about the Grange had its memories of the 
 two who had made up her little world. She found 
 [her best solace in visiting her poor proUges, and 
 forgetting, for a time, her own more sentimental 
 [troubles in their very prosaic and practical ones ; 
 )ften wondering, indeed, how they could bear the 
 )ressure of poverty and sickness with the patience 
 they generally showed. And Mr Lyle, the curate, 
 ^ho was to marry her friend Marion Evans, fre- 
 quently met her in her visits and walks, and would 
 
 C 
 
34 TBE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 talk to her in his calm, clear, gentle tones of the 
 purer happiness to be found in rising above ' the 
 chances and changes of this troublesome world,' to 
 the peace that can know neither change nor loss. | 
 These quiet, meditative days, under the shadow of 
 her heavy sorrow, tau-,: . )r much that she never 
 forgot in years to come. 
 
 At last the morning post brought a note from 
 Mrs Jocelyn, which Ethel opened with the presenti. 
 ment that it contained her fate. Mrs Jocelyn was 
 MO * practical ' that she generally ended in having 
 her way, and becoming the arbiter of her little 
 circle ; and Ethel knew that whatever plan her J 
 aunt constructed, would be buttresaeJ and supported 
 by so many good and sufficient reasons, that she 
 should never be able successfully to resist it, how- 
 ever distasteful it might be. The letter was dated 
 from a country house at which she and her daughter 
 were sojourning, enjoying a round of gaiety, — she 
 herself being congenially occupied in promoting 
 her daughter's matrimonial interests. Ethel glanced 
 impatiently over the preliminary lines, enlarging 
 on the pleasantness of their surroundings, and the 
 attentions Clara was receiving, till she came to the 
 important paragraph which concerned herself, and 
 read as follows ; — 
 
 'I am so glad, my dear child, to say that I have 
 just had a most kind letter from your aunt Caroline, 
 with one to yourself which I enclose. I think her 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIR MOV NT GRANGE 35 
 
 invitation is just the thing for you ! It will give 
 you the change you need, and time to look about 
 you out there, where I have no doubt you will find 
 it easier to get something suitable than it would 
 be here. Your aunt has considerately sent me a 
 cheque sufficient to pay all your expenses out, so 
 that there is nothing to prevent you from going as 
 soon as you can get ready. I hope you will write 
 at once to say when you will be ready to sail. 
 Anything you want I shall be happy to get for you 
 when we return next week to Blackheath. Or you 
 might come up yourself, a few days sooner, and do 
 any shopping you want. Clara and I will be 
 delighted to see you for a little visit, before you 
 sail. Make up your mind, like a dear girl, and set 
 mine at ease about you.' 
 
 Ethel turned eagerly to the enclosed letter in 
 her aunt's large flowing hand, which was already 
 familiar to her, from the occasional letters she had 
 received from her during childhood. It was dated 
 ' Toronto, Canada ' ; and, after expressing warm 
 sympathy with Ethel in her sorrow, as well as her 
 own regret for Mr Howard's death, she went on to 
 say:— 
 
 ' It would give me the greatest pleasure, my dear 
 Ethel, to receive you here and learn to know you. 
 I always wished to have my sister's child with me, 
 but gave way to your uncle's claim. Now I hope 
 
36 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE 
 
 you will come to me at once, and see if we cannot 
 do something to cheer your most natural sorrow, 
 and make you feel at home with us. Fanny will 
 be delighted to have you for a companion, and as 
 we spend part of our summer in quiet country 
 quarters, at Murray Bay, below Quebec, your society 
 will he doubly welcome. I hear you are an 
 accomplished musician, so you can be of great use 
 to Fanny in helping her to keep up her music, 
 which she is very remiss about doing when we 
 are in the country. I wish I could go myself to 
 bring you out, and am sorry that you will have to 
 take the voyage alone, but it is now so short that 
 you don't need to mind that, and Mr Jocelyn can 
 put you under the captain's care. As we shall be 
 going to Murray Bay about the first of July, we 
 might arrange to meet you in Quebec, and show 
 you the 'lions' of that old historic city, which I 
 am sure will interest you. I think and hope that 
 you will enjoy Canada very much, even if, in some 
 respects, you may think it a long way behind dear 
 old England. I have been very happy here, and I 
 think we can make you so.' 
 
 There was more to the same effect, for the letter 
 was a long one, and Ethel could not but feel its 
 affectionate cordiality. She handed both lettery 
 across the table to Miss Ponsonby, who was waiting 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 37 
 
 with repressed impatience to learn their contents, 
 her own breakfast being quite neglected. 
 
 • Well,' she remarked, after a leisurely perusal, 
 * I must say that is a most kind letter of your 
 Aunt Caroline's. Her generosity is really quite 
 refreshing. And I do think, Ethel, you ought to 
 be most thankful for such an opening ! There is 
 no knowing what it may lead to. When I was 
 young, there was nothing for girls but to go out 
 to India, like the boys. Now there are so many 
 things they can do,' she observed, regretfully. 
 
 Ethel scarcely followed the course of her aunt's 
 remarks. The question of severance of all the old 
 home-ties, though so long impending, had never 
 come quite so near her. It seemed to bring a 
 dizzy feeling to her head, and a choking one to 
 her throat, to be brought face to face with an 
 immediate decision. Yet she felt instinctively the 
 comforting warmth and affection of her Aunt 
 Caroline's letter. It was so different from Mrs 
 Jocelyn's mere kindness^ the two things being 
 only too distinct and distinguishable. She hail, 
 too, a distinct remembrance of a visit from her 
 at Fairmount Grange, of an ample matronly 
 presence, of being enfolded in a warm motherly 
 embrace, of kisses and candy alternately and 
 liberally administered ; and her heart had always 
 warmed to Aunt Caroline's name. The letter 
 seemed like a call from a loving voice that she 
 
38 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 could not refuse to hear. But there were so many 
 other cries in her heart from the happy past, from 
 her dear old home, from her uncle's grave, from 
 the still unquenched love that Edgar Fane had 
 awakened, that the step of venturing out into a 
 great unknown world seemed to her shy inex- 
 perience a formidable one indeed. So absorbed 
 was she by these conflicting emotions, that she 
 scarcely noticed the other letters and notes that 
 lay beside her plate, till Miss Ponsonby had 
 repeatedly rernincibd her of their existence. She 
 took them up absently ; one was the periodical 
 epistle from Marion Evans, that would keep till 
 her mind was more at leisure. Another was in 
 an unknown hand, which excited her curiosity. 
 She opened it, glanced at once at the signature, 
 and was astonished to read the only half -recognised 
 name ' John Howard.' 
 
 It was only by degrees that she made out from 
 the awkward and somewhat incoherent epistle, 
 that the writer meant, in all seriousness, to renew 
 and press his very sudden proposal of marriage. 
 He assured her that he had not been able to forget 
 her, and the thought had positively haunted him, — 
 that she might just as well as not remain the 
 mistress of her eld home, witii scarcely any change 
 in the situation. She need not be troubled with 
 him, if she didn't wish it ; though he thought that 
 perhaps if a woman like her could care for him 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUJST GRANGE 39 
 
 a little, he might yet have a chance to turn over 
 a new leaf. But he was quite willing to remain 
 away from Fairmount Grange, for which he had 
 no particular fancy, and leave her lindisputed 
 mistress, either legally, as his wife, or informally 
 as Miss Howard. She could keep the place in 
 order for him, and he would be free to continue 
 the roving life to wliich he had so long been 
 accustomed, that he could scarcely settle down 
 to any other. He closed by begging her to believe 
 him very much at her service, and her affectionate 
 cousin, John Howard. 
 
 She felt that it was really a thoroughly kind- 
 hearted letter — confused as it was ; and it brought 
 the tears to Ethel's eyes, with a sense of the futility 
 and cross purposes of life. If she could but have 
 felt this a right and honourable solution of the 
 question, how gladly would she have stayed peace- 
 fully in her old home, instead of going out as a 
 stranger into the wide world, from which she shrank 
 in over-sensitive shyness. It would hurt no one 
 if she were to remain in her present position, as her 
 cousin's nominal wife, and would save so much 
 pain, and even possible evil to others, for what sort 
 of a master would poor Jack Howard make for 
 Fairmount Grange ? To take care of all that her 
 uncle had valued — ^and she knew that, without a 
 careful eye, many things they had both loved must 
 suffer — seemed to her the only thing she could now 
 
40 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 
 
 care to live for. She could still be the kind, 
 thoughtful friend of the poor proUges — of the old 
 and sickly folks who had so long looked to the 
 Grange for all that lightened the burden of their 
 life. And then — she would still have some things 
 in her power ; and with a girl's somewhat fantastic 
 magnanimity, she thought how an anonymous 
 cheque might sometimes find its way to help a 
 struggling young genius in London, who, even if 
 he had disappointed her perhaps too romantic ex- 
 pectations, was still her friend, for whom it would 
 be pleasant to do an occasional hidden act of kind- 
 ness. All these thoughts and images flitted rapidly 
 through her mind. On one side — the pleasant 
 country home — the tranquil, useful life she loved — 
 the independence of position — the good that might 
 be done for others ; on the Oiiher, a venture into new 
 and untried circumstances, into exile, or what so 
 seemed to her, into a country associated in her mind 
 with Indian savages, and bitter cold, with stories of 
 rude pioneer life, and tales of ice-palaces, and a 
 winter that reigned during half the year ! Even 
 her aunt's affectionate letter failed to brighten the 
 dark side of the mental picture, with the stormy 
 sea in addition, which she dreaded as people 
 vaguely dread an almost unknown evil. For the 
 short passage from Dover to Calais, on the occasion 
 of her only trip to the Continent, was her sole ex- 
 perience of the sea, and it was an experience she 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 41 
 
 shrank from repeating. All these considerations 
 seemed to chase each other through her mind, while 
 she sat with her still untasted breakfast before her, 
 Miss Ponsonby being still engrossed in discussing 
 over and over again the letter her niece had handed 
 to her. 
 
 ' Ah, yes,' she continued in a steady monologue, 
 ' your Aunt Caroline's letter is all that could be de- 
 sired ! I could have wished, my love, that you and 
 I should have stayed on together here. This sweet, 
 quiet life has been quite delightful. But, as that 
 can't be, I really think it would be flying in the 
 face of Providence not to accept at once Mrs 
 Aylmer's invitation. Don't you think so yourself? 
 Shall you write at once to accept it ? I will write 
 to your Aunt Jocelyn for you, if you like, to say 
 when you will go to town. We can soon pack up 
 your things hero, you know, with Lisette.' 
 
 'Never mind, auntie, dear. I'll write myself, 
 but I should like to take a little time to think 
 over it all. I suppose, as you say, I ought to 
 go; but I can't quite make up my mind to it, just 
 yet. 
 
 * Well, well, ray dear, it's your own affair, and you 
 ought to know your own mind best ! Only, if I had 
 such an offer made to me, i know I shouldn't 
 hesitate. And it will give you such opportunities 
 of enlarging your mind — of seeing new places — and 
 scenery — and all that ! That is such an advantage, 
 
42 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 you know ! But you are right to take plenty of 
 time to consider it.' 
 
 Ethel spent much of her naorning on the beech- 
 tree seat, with the best intentions of considering 
 carefully all ih^jproa and cons ; — but, in spite of her- 
 self, she found herself always relapsing into dreams. 
 Visions of what might have been, came in to carry 
 off her thoughts in utterly aimless directions — and 
 she could not help mentally playing, as it were, with 
 Jack Howard's proposal, while, all the time, she 
 knew quite well in her heart that she could never 
 accept it. Some girls in her position would scarcely 
 have hesitated to do so ; but her own innate sense of 
 womanly delicacy and honour, strengthened by her 
 uncle's influence, would have utterly revolted from 
 such a desecration of the most sacred of unions, for 
 the sake of comfort and convenience. And she 
 knew just as well that she must accept her aunt's 
 invitation, that she must not disappoint her 
 relations, by refusing to do what was expected of 
 her, and, indeed, she could give no reason for doing 
 so that would satisfy a severely practical relative. 
 But she would gladly have remained as a house- 
 maid at Fairmount Grange, if that had been possible, 
 rather than venture into the unknown world beyond 
 the sea. 
 
 • Have you decided then, my love ? ' asked Miss 
 Ponsonby anxiously, as she saw Ethel seat herself 
 at her Davenport, that afternoon. 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 43 
 
 'I suppose so, auntie' she replied, wearily; *I 
 suppose there really is only one thing to do. It 
 was only that 1 could hardly bear to think so, at 
 first.' 
 
 'Yes, I know, my poor darling!' said Miss 
 Ponsonby, sympathetically, and Ethel submitted as 
 patiently as she could to the kindly meant consola- 
 tion and petting, which tried her inexpressibly. 
 
 It was comparatively easy to write the letters to 
 her aunts. The one to Mrs Jocelyn needed only to 
 be clear and decided ; to say just when she would 
 go to her in London, and when she would be ready to 
 sail. The reply to her Aunt Caroline, too, was easy 
 for her. Her aunt's affectionate tone had won her 
 confidence, and she could write freely about her 
 own sense of loss and her appreciation of Mrs 
 Aylmer's kindness. But the letter to her cousin 
 cost her much more thought and trouble. Some- 
 tliing in the poor fellow's blundering, but kindly- 
 meant epistle, touched her deeply, and made her 
 feel as if the bond of kindred counted for something 
 after all. She tried her best to express herself so as 
 to make him feel that she recognised his kind inten- 
 tion, and desired to maintain all the family feeling 
 which should characterise their present relation, 
 without the slightest encouragement to his sugges- 
 tion of any other. And she succeeded in inditing 
 the only true womanly letter that poor Jack 
 Howard had ever received in his li.fe, a life in 
 
44 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 which he had been so often assumed to be ' good for 
 nothing/ that he had been only too content to drift 
 on, and let his life verify the valuation thus set 
 upon it. Such a letter as that, he felt' bitterly, 
 when he read it — had any such fallen to his lot 
 when his life was still plastic — might have helped 
 him to resist the fatal influences that had dragged 
 hir , dov a and lost him so much that he only now 
 began vaguely to appreciate. 
 
 Ethel had finished her three letters before it 
 occurre-^ to 'ler, with some remorse, that in her pre- 
 occupfivior' ^»^^ had not yet opened the one from 
 Miss Evv.ns, wbi h she had laid aside at the 
 Kjment. c.vl hao n'sletely forgotten. She took 
 it up at ojice, tvor 1 . 'x\.}siv she could have been 
 so careless and negligent of her oldest friend. The 
 contents of the letter gave her a thorough surprise. 
 Marion, usually so calm and equable, wrote in great 
 excitement, to say that a sudden change had come 
 over all her plans. Mr Lyle had, through an old 
 friend, received an urgent invitation to take the 
 position of assistant clergyman in a Canadian city, 
 had decidfid to accept it, and in two or three weeks 
 they would sail for this new home. It had all been 
 so sudden, that she could scarcely realise it yet. 
 Her employers had been most kind in allowing her 
 to resign her present engagement, which they could 
 the more easily do, as the holiday season was so 
 near, and they were to go abroad for a few weeks. 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 45 
 
 She was to have gone with them, but, of course, 
 she would far rather go with dear Gilbert to his 
 new sphere of work. 
 
 It would be a dreadful hurry, she said, — * but I 
 am not ambitious, you know, in the matter of 
 trousseau, so I can manage! Only there is one 
 thing I have set my heart on. I want to see both 
 you and my dear old home once more, and I want 
 to be married in my father's and Gilbert's dear old 
 church. Could you, dearost Ethel, if you are still 
 to be some time at the Grange, let n e come to you 
 for a day? If so, it would add so much to my 
 happiness. And I know you wouldn't care to be 
 formally a bridesmaid just now, but as I am to be 
 married, quite quietly, in my travelling dress, per- 
 haps you wouldn't mind standing beside me? I 
 should feel it so much more like having some one 
 belonging to me, and there is no one I should care 
 to have at such a time, but you ! ' 
 
 Ethel's exclamation of surprise at once aroused 
 Miss Ponsonby's curiosity. 
 
 'Oh, my dear,' she said, when Ethel had ex- 
 plained, I did hear Mr Thornby say that he thought 
 we might lose Mr Lyle very soon, that he had had 
 such an offer, and that, very probably, he might 
 accept. I forgot to tell you when you came in ; 
 besides you see Mr Lyle so often, that I really 
 thought you would know more than / did.' 
 
 And then Ethel remembered that she had not 
 
46 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 seen Mr Lyle for a week past, indeed he had been 
 away to see his absent rector, and consult him 
 about the step he was considering. But it seemed 
 to her a remarkable coincidence, that, just as she 
 had decided upon a journey which she dreaded so 
 much, she should find that the old friend of her 
 girlhood was about to take the same formidable 
 voyage. If they could only go together, it would 
 take nearly all the terror out of the enterprise. 
 And why should they not ? She sat down at once 
 to write to Marion, to extend most warmly the 
 desired invitation, to explain her own plans, and 
 express her hope that the newly married couple 
 would be willing to let her accompany them, and 
 not consider her in the light of an inconvenient 
 intruder on their honeymoon happiness. 
 
 The afternoon sunlight was falling softly over 
 the lawn, lengthening the shadows of the great 
 cedar, and deepening the tints of the laburnum and 
 other flowering shrubs. Ethel was pouring out tea 
 for her ' aunt,' as she called her cousin, at the little 
 wicker table on the lawn, when Mr Lyle walked 
 up the gravel drive, and approached them with a 
 glow of happy excitement on his face that made 
 him seem half-a-dozen years younger. 
 
 * Oh, my dear Mr Lyle,' exclaimed Miss Ponsonby, 
 ' we know what is making you look so bright and 
 happy. We have heard all about your good for- 
 tune ; and I am so glad to hear it. Do you know 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 47 
 
 we are to have a wedding here soon ? That will 
 be charming, indeed I I have heard so much about 
 Miss Evans from dear Ethel. I am sure you will 
 have a treasure of a wife.' 
 
 Mr Lyle smilingly acknowledged Miss Ponsonby's 
 effusiveness, as well as the quieter congratulations 
 of Ethel, and expressed the liveliest interest and 
 pleasure when the latter told him of her own plans, 
 and of the letter she had just written to Marion. 
 ' Nothing could be more delightful/ he said, * than 
 to think that Marion would have a lifelong friend 
 near her in a strange land ; it would take away 
 half the sense of exile. He would write at once to 
 engage a berth in the same steamer. Miss Howard's 
 presence would be like a little bit of home for them 
 both. In fact, he considered it a most providential 
 coincidence.' 
 
 'It does seem very strange,* remarked Ethel, 
 after they had discussed all the necessary details, 
 'when I had no idea this morning that either 
 Marion or I should be going to do anything of the 
 kind.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Mr Lyle, gently, * you know " there's a 
 divinity that shapes our ends, rough hew them as 
 we will." I suppose we are not so ready to believe 
 that, when the "shaping" does not seem to us 
 desirable, as it most certainly does in this particular 
 case. Now,' he added, in a tone full of kindly con- 
 cern, ' you won't let all the leave-takings try you 
 
 '•', •■■!h- : ! 
 
48 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE 
 
 too much ? Remember all is ordered for the 
 best.' 
 
 * Indeed, I shall try, Mr Lyle/said Ethel, earnestly , 
 as he bade her good night ; but even then the tears 
 started to her eyes, as she watched him disappear 
 behind the sweeping boughs of the trees that shaded 
 the drive, and thought how soon the familiar 
 features of this home of her childhood, — lost to her 
 for ever, would be only a memory to haunt her 
 through the coming years that looked so blank and 
 dreary to her now ! 
 
 :? j 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 The little wedding in the village church was a very 
 simple and quiet one, but the people who thronged 
 the place to see their dear curate married, declared 
 with one consent that it was * as nice as it could be.' 
 'Miss Evans,' they pronounced, 'just sweet' in her 
 dove coloured cashmere, and ' every inch a lady ; * 
 and Miss Howard, in her simple white muslin, with- 
 out a touch of colour anywhere, save her shining 
 chestnut hair and violet eyes, ' looked just like an 
 angel, as she was, poor dear — and what could they 
 all do without her, now that she was going away to 
 foreign parts ? ' 
 
 Marion, as a bride, was just the same bright, 
 capable, unselfish girl she had always been. Her 
 experience of the hardness of life seemed not to 
 have hurt her in the least. The sunny side of 
 things was the one which presented itself most 
 readily to her, and she could generally find some- 
 thing to enjoy even in the gloomiest circumstances, 
 
 Her unobtrusive sympathy and cheery spirit were 
 
 D 
 
so THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 illl 
 
 just the mild tonic that Ethel's more brooding 
 nature needed ; and in the little bustle of the brief 
 visit, and modest wedding preparation, she lost 
 something of the weight of her past sorrow and im- 
 pending trial. As the little wedding party left the 
 church, Ethel's eye chanced to fall on the figure of 
 a stranger, in a grey travelling suit, who had evi- 
 dently come in to witness the ceremony, and who 
 seemed to survey the bridal party with some 
 interest and curiosity. ' Some tourist, I suppose,' 
 thought Ethel, * who has strayed into the church to 
 see an English wedding.' Even in her momentary 
 glance, she noticed the calm, grave, yet as it seemed 
 sympathetic look in the stranger's dark hazel eyes, 
 which impressed her favourably ; and, though no 
 one would have called him handsome, he seemed to 
 leave an impression of both strength and gentleness, 
 notwithstanding his tall stalwart figure. 
 
 The little party went back to the Grange for an 
 informal luncheon, before Mr and Mrs Lyle de- 
 parted to catch the train. Ethel, whose prepara- 
 tions for removal were nearly completed, was to 
 meet them in London, after their brief farewell 
 visit to Mr Lyle's family. She herself had but 
 little to do in town, but was to spend a day at Mrs 
 Jocelj^n's house before proceeding with the Lyles 
 to Liverpool ; and Miss Ponsonby, who lived with 
 a sister-in-law in a tiny house at Notting Hill, was 
 to accompany her thither. 
 
THE UEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 51 
 
 The last evening at Fainnount Grange had come, 
 and was as fair as an English June evening could be. 
 The fragrance of honeysuckle and lime blossoms 
 blended deliciously with that of the new-mown 
 grass. The flower-beds had begun to wear their 
 
 nmer glow, contrasting brilliantly with the 
 sombre hues of cedar and laurel. Ethel had got 
 through the painful ordeal of farewell visits, amid 
 the tears and lamentations of the poor women who 
 were devoted to her, and the crying of the children, 
 when told by their mothers that ' Miss Ethel,' with 
 her kind heart and bountiful hand, was going away 
 across the sea, where they would see her no more. 
 The rounds of the familiar rooms had been mad 1 
 her own special possessions packed up — some to be 
 
 t, for the present, in London, the rest to go with 
 to Canada. Very tired, but still maintaining 
 a resolute calm, she at last sat down with her aunt 
 for their usual five o'clock tea on the lawn. Miss 
 Ponsonby's overflowing condolences were, as usual, 
 somewhat oppressive, and Ethel's forced composure 
 was once or twice so nearly upset, that she was 
 glad to hide her starting tears and quivering lip, 
 by bending over Nero, the faithful old house-dog, 
 who, divining in his canine way some impending 
 calamity, came up to lay his head on her lap and 
 look imploringly into her eyes. Should she ever 
 look on these dear familiar objects again ? And 
 then there arose the nsistent thought — if only she 
 
5s THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE 
 
 could have accepted Jack Howard's proposal — if 
 only ! 
 
 She was startled out of this reflection by Miss 
 Ponsonby's exclamation. 
 
 ' My dear ! I do believe there is that wretched 
 man again ! I think he might have had the decency 
 to keep away till you were gone ! ' 
 
 Ethel looked up to recognise that it was indeed 
 the unwelcome figure of Jack Howard himself. 
 The sudden pang and annoyance and humiliation 
 awakened by the first glance, showed her at once 
 how impossible would have been that * if only ' 
 which had flitted through her mind. How could 
 she have borne to look at him, if she had given him 
 any right to come to her ? The poor fellow came 
 up — humbly enough. He had never felt his own 
 degradation so much, as since he had been brought 
 into contact with Ethel's pure, refined womanhood. 
 He would not have been cowed by the presence of 
 any man, but it was with difficulty that hb now 
 stammered forth an apology for his intrusion. 
 
 * 1 wanted to see you for a few minutes before you 
 leave Fairmount, Miss Howard, if you would kindly 
 let me have a little private conversation.' 
 
 ' Certainly, Mr Howard,' Ethel replied, gravely. 
 * If you will excuse us, Aunt Julia, we can go to the 
 library. There are some lists there that I had left 
 for you, and I may as well give them to you now.' 
 
 Howard followed her lead, and after she had ex- 
 
 II 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 53 
 
 plained tlie papers to him, seeing that she waited 
 for his communication, he began, with a broken and 
 tremulous voice. 
 
 * Miss Howard, I can't bear it, indeed I can't, to 
 have you go away like this ! I've thought and 
 thought, and, for my life, I can't see why you 
 should ! I will cut off my right hand, if that will 
 keep you here ! Yes, I know what you said ; — 
 excuse me, cousin Ethel, but — I — couldn't give up 
 hoping that if I could see you and speak to you 
 again, you might give way. I assure you, you could 
 do what you liked with me ; perhaps you might 
 even turn me out a respectable member of society 
 yet!' He broke off, with a somewhat bitter laugh, 
 as he felt rather than saw the unyielding firmness 
 of the fair face which had haunted him night and 
 day since he had seen it first. 
 
 'It can't he, Mr Howard,' she said, with an 
 intensity of emphasis that seemed to seal his fate. 
 
 ' Well, many a girl has done worse, I assure you ! 
 I'm not half a bad sort of fellow ! It's not my fault 
 if I'm my father's son ! Well, won't il do if I just 
 go ofi' and leave you here in peace ? I'll promise 
 not to come near the place. A small allowance is 
 all I ought to have — you know I can't keep money!' 
 
 ' Mr Howard — Cousin Jack ! ' replied Ethel, 
 deeply touched by the poor fellow's hopeless, almost 
 abject tone. * It is impossible for me to do as you 
 wish ; but, believe me, I fully appreciate your 
 
ivIfS; 
 
 54 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE 
 
 kindness. But you must wake up to your responsi- 
 bilities, and be man enough to meet them. You 
 can, if you will only look for strength from the 
 right source ! I shall often think of, and pray for 
 you ; for my uncle's sake and your own. Now, 
 won't you shake hands, and say good-bye ? ' — for 
 he had turned away, with quivering features and 
 the look of a wounded animal. 
 
 He took her offered hand, pressing it so tightly 
 that she almost cried out with the pain — then turned 
 and was gone before she could think of another 
 kind parting word to say. She sank down into her 
 uncle's old chair, while a rush of tears came to 
 relieve her over-strained heart — tears of a divine 
 compassion for the poor ' forlorn and shipwrecked 
 brother,' as well as springing from the unspoken pain 
 that had been oppressing her all day. 
 
 It was almost a relief when she and Miss 
 Ponsonby were fairly off, and the train had carried 
 them out of sight of everything associated with 
 Fairmount Grange. The London visit helped to 
 give a new turn to her thoughts, and she had 
 scarcely realised the situation, when, with Mr and 
 Mrs Lyle beside her, she had taken her seat in the 
 Liverpool train, and said the final farewell to her 
 uncle and aunt. Clara had not come home with her 
 mother. * The dear girl is so much in request,' said 
 Mrs Jocelyn, that they really wouldn't hear of her 
 leaving ? ' 
 
 iilil 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE 55 
 
 She had time for a good many parting thoughts, 
 as the train swiftly sped on, and Mr and Mrs L^le 
 considerately left her to the quiet she evidently 
 desired. She had half hoped, half dreaded that she 
 might, by some chance, encounter Edgar Fane in 
 London ; but this pleasure or pain, she hardly knew 
 which, was not one of the incidents of her visit. 
 Edgar Fane had indeed heard through the Joceiyns 
 of her approaching departure and brief visit, but 
 he had no mind to risk an interview which would 
 probably upset him for a time, and was, just then, 
 in a pleasant rush of alternate work and social 
 pleasure. Miss Addington was smiling on him too, 
 and if her father should turn out propitious, it 
 might end ii. something quite as advantageous as 
 the possession of Ethel and Fairmount Grange. 
 
 The final moment of embarking arrived with in- 
 credible rapidity, and Ethel, half bewildered, found 
 herself on the busy dock thronged by clustering 
 passengers and piles of luggage. There happened 
 to be some delay about theirs, and Mr Lyle was 
 obliofed to leave the ladies while he went in search 
 of it. Ethel, in a sort of dreamy bewilderment at 
 the novelty of the scene, was absently watching 
 the various groups and wondering which were to 
 be their fellow-passengers. Suddenly she was half 
 awaked out of her dreaminess at the sight of a 
 figure in grey tweed and wideawake, that impressed 
 her as unaccountably familiar. He turned just 
 
56 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 
 
 then to look for a companion, and as his eyes 
 encountered her own, Ethel felt that they expressed 
 both recognition and interest. At once she recol- 
 lected the occasion on which she had met them 
 before. 
 
 ' Look, Marion, there's the stranger I noticed in 
 church on your wedding day. Isn't it odd we 
 should see him here again ? ' 
 
 'Why, dear, you don't suppose I saw him then! 
 The Queen and all the royal family might have 
 been there and I should never have known it. I 
 have a vague impression of you and dear Gilbert, 
 that's all. Oh ! here he is, did you find the luggage, 
 dear ? * 
 
 They were all on board at last. The final good- 
 byes had been said, the parting waving and cheer- 
 ing were over, and the passengers, postponing part- 
 ing regrets, however poignant, to more immediate 
 needs, were trying to settle down in their state- 
 rooms, and make themselves as comfortable as 
 circumstances would permit. On applying for the 
 berths Mr Lyle had engaged, it was found, to Ethel's 
 great disappointment, that the state-room beside 
 her friend's, — bespoken for her, — had been through 
 some mistake given to a couple of other passengers 
 instead. When Mr Lyle expressed the lady's dis- 
 appointment, the purser suggested that possibly 
 the gentlemen to whoiii it had been assigned might 
 be willing to exchange it for that appropriated to 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 57 
 
 the lady in another part of the vessel. Mr Lyle 
 went in search of the gentlemen in question, one of 
 whom came forward at once to say that he would 
 accommodate a lady with the greatest pleasure. 
 When the purser introduced him to the party 
 generally as ' Mr Stuart,' Ethel saw with another 
 little sensation of surprise, that it was the same 
 tigure in the grey tweed. Again there was the 
 same look of interest and recognition, as Mr Stuart 
 remarked that he had the more pleasure in doing 
 anything in his power for the young lady's comfort, 
 as he believed that she was the niece of an old and 
 dear friend of his, Mrs Aylmer, and he had just 
 heard of her expected visit. Then, courteously 
 deprecating all thanks, and saying that he hoped 
 to have the pleasure of following up this unexpected 
 introduction during the voyage, he rapidly removed 
 his and his companion's belongings from the state- 
 room, and disappeared. And now they were fairly 
 off; the steamer swiftly ploughing her way through 
 the green waves, and, at every moment, as it w^ere, 
 widening the chasm between the present and the 
 past. 
 
PAET II 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 The bustle and confusion of the first hours at sea 
 were over. The passengers had got themselves and 
 their traps shaken down in their temporary abode 
 for the eight or nine days' voyage. The first 
 dinner was over, and had given an opportunity to 
 each of scrutinising the appearance of his or her 
 fellow travellers at the same table. Ethel noticed 
 Mr Stuart at some distance below them, and, beside 
 him, a young man with fair hair and lively blue 
 eyes, who kept up an animated conversation with 
 him durintr the whole meal. As the eveninof was 
 delightfully calm, Mr Lyle established his two 
 ladies, with their sea-chairs, books, rugs, and wraps, 
 in a comfortable nook near the wheel-house, from 
 whence they could watch the fair shores of England 
 gradually fading into a dim blue line, which on the 
 morrow they would see no more. They all sat 
 very silent, as the glowing sun gradually sank into 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 59 
 
 the waves, amid dun and purple clouds, reflected on 
 the smooth expanse below in softer and more 
 ethereal tints. They thought much less of the 
 beauty of the sunset than of that vanishing shadowy 
 blue line which represented so much that was dear 
 and sacred to all three. Even the newly married 
 pair felt a shadow steal over their happiness, as 
 they thought of all the old familiar life that seemed 
 slipping away from them for ever. *If I forget 
 thee, oh Jerusalem,' Mr Lyle murmured, in a tone 
 meant for only his wife to hear, while she pressed 
 more tightly the hand she held. As for Ethel, she 
 was glad to turn away her head, that a few quiet 
 tears might have their way, as there came thronging 
 upon her a thousand happy recollections of the 
 home now closed to her for ever, of her beloved 
 uncle, now in his grave, and of another grave, as it 
 seemed to her in her heart, the grave of a lost hope 
 and vanished trust, and a love wounded unto 
 death. That chapter, she felt, was closed ; but she 
 had no heart as yet to turn over new leaves and 
 look on to those which might follow. 
 
 The late midsummer dusk was beginning to close 
 about them, obliterating the rich iridescent hues of 
 the reflected sunset glow, when Mr Lyle, who had 
 already made some new acquaintances, returned 
 from his stroll about the deck accompanied by 
 their new friend of the morning, and woke Ethel 
 out of her reverie, by saying : 
 
6o THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 * Mr Stuart wishes for an introduction in due 
 form, Miss Howard. He tells me he is a lawyer, 
 and partner in Mr Aylmer's firm, and is anxious to 
 make your acquaintance in a regular way.' 
 
 Ethel looked up with awakened interest and a 
 faint smile, as she met the stranger's somewhat 
 scrutinising glance. She saw a man about thirty, 
 who, though tall and well-proportioned, could 
 scarcely be called handsome ; the chief attraction 
 of his strong rather than fine face, being in the soft 
 dark hazel eyes, clear and penetrating, and consider- 
 ably darker than the light brown hair; and in a 
 smile the more winning, when it occurred, because 
 the expression was habitually grave. There was 
 about the firm lips too, a curve that indicated a 
 quick sense of humour controlled by the gravity, 
 amounting almost to sadness, which predominated. 
 His face at present was softened into sympathy as 
 he looked down at the deep mourning dress, which 
 gave an added paleness to the finely cut face, with 
 its marks of repressed feeling, her long black veil 
 having been thrown back in order the better to en- 
 joy the lovely sunset. 
 
 *I am very glad to have this opportunity of 
 making your acquaintance, Miss Howard,' he said. 
 ' Your aunt, Mrs Aylmer, is one of my dearest and 
 most valued friends. As I was in Euirland on 
 some business of our firm, she had asked me to call 
 at Fairmount Grange, in case I should be anywhere 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 61 
 
 near it. I did happen to be within a few miles, 
 and came on with the full intention of calling on 
 you ; but in the circumstances in which I heard 
 you then were, I felt it would be unpardonable for 
 a stranger to intrude upon you. It happened to be 
 the day of Mr Lyle's wedding, and I strayed into 
 the church to see what was going on, when I heard 
 some one point you out, and had the pleasure of at 
 least seeing you, which I knew would interest your 
 aunt very much. I even took a mental note of 
 your dress for her benefit I I had no idea we 
 should meet again so soon.' 
 
 ' I noticed you there, as a stranger,* Miss Howard 
 replied, ' and we even speculated a little as to why 
 you were there. We set you down as a stray 
 tourist, who wanted to see a wedding in an English 
 country church.' 
 
 'You came very near it, certainly,' he said, with 
 a smile. ' I quite plead guilty to being anxious to 
 see everything distinctively English — or Scotch — 
 which interests me even more closely, as you may 
 suppose from my name. We in Canada read and 
 hear so much about these old country churches, and 
 the old-fashioned rural life, so different from any- 
 thing you can have in a new country, that it is a 
 positive rapture really to see, for the first time, 
 what has always seemed more like romance than 
 reality. I felt very like the old Scotch woman 
 who said to the traveller returned from Palestine, 
 
62 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE 
 
 i| 
 
 
 " Ye'll no get me to believe that there's any such 
 place as Jerusalem ! " ' 
 
 It was Ethel's turn to smile ; indeed she came 
 nearer laughing than she had done for weeks. Mr 
 Lyle remarked : 
 
 'I think we can all understand that feeling. 
 But you were happy if you found your idea un- 
 spoiled by the reality.' 
 
 'I found it so in most cases,* he said, 'most 
 certainly in that one. The whole scene greatly 
 delighted me. Everything seemed so thoroughly 
 in keeping, so tranquil, so peaceful, so full of that 
 mellowing influence of time and long civilisation. 
 The village seemed to me a typical one. I can 
 easily imagine what it must be to leave such a 
 charming home.' Then, as he noted the shadow 
 that quickly stole over Ethel's face, he hurriedly 
 changed the subject, adding, ' and yet, I doubt if, 
 after the more strenuous life of a young country, 
 one could contentedly settle down into that quiet 
 round of existence, even in such a lovely spot. 
 There would be a certain monotony ! ' 
 
 Ethel looked surprised. She somewhat resented 
 this imputation as a slight on her old home. 
 
 * It seems to me,' she said, ' that life can never 
 seem monotonous when you care very much about 
 the people and things around you.' As she spoke 
 her mind went back to her uncle's happy studious 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 63 
 
 seclusion, engrossed in the interest of books and 
 thought, and of the little world about him. 
 
 ' I quite agree with you,' rejoined Mr Stuart 
 quickly, feeling the apparent ungraciousness of his 
 remark. * I was merely thinking of the effect that 
 even such delicious tranquillity has on a stranger 
 accustomed to work in harness so long, that he 
 almost wonders what he should do with himself 
 if turned loose among the clover. I quite admit 
 that I myself may be at fault. Please don't 
 suppose, however, that I did not intensely enjoy 
 the quiet loveliness of your charming village and 
 its surrounding landscape. I carry it about with 
 me as a picture to enjoy in memory in work-a-day 
 hours. I have not had a great deal of poetry in 
 my life, nor perhaps in my composition, but there 
 is a couple of lines that I often think of when a 
 scene one has much enjoyed comes vividly up 
 before one afterwards. It is about 
 
 ' " The inward eye 
 Which is the bliss of solitude." ' 
 
 * Oh yes, from Wordsworth's *' Daffodils," ' ex- 
 claimed Miss Howard, with a brightening expres- 
 sion. * That was such a favourite of — * 
 
 But her voice fell, and she stopped short. She 
 could not yet bring herself to speak of her uncle to 
 a stranger. 
 
 Mrs Lyle, divining her feeling, interposed with 
 
64 TBE UEIR OF FAlKitOUNT GRANGE 
 
 Hi 
 
 1 
 
 fill 
 
 a remark about the length of the summer twilight, 
 and after a little more desultory talk, Mr Stuart 
 said that he feared he was keeping them from 
 seeking the rest they must need. He hoped to 
 have many opportunities of enjoying their society, 
 and, if they would allow him, he would introduce 
 his cousin, Mr Kavanagh, looking towards the fair- 
 haired, bright-faced young man who was evidently 
 waiting impatiently for him, introducing him 
 to the ladies in due form. Then, to the evident 
 disgust of the young man, he remarked that he 
 would say Good-night, as the ladies would need 
 all the rest they could get, if they should have 
 the change in the weather which seemed likely to 
 come before long. 
 
 His warning proved true. When Ethel, next 
 morning, awoke from the profound sleep of 
 exhaustion, she found that, instead of gliding 
 smoothly over a summer sea, the vessel was tossing 
 amid heavy rolling waves, while gusts of rain, 
 mingled with the showers of spray, dashed against 
 the narrow port-holes. She found it, moreover, 
 utterly impossible to rise, and, for the next two 
 days, neither she nor Mrs Lyle could venture 
 to leave their berths. The latter, indeed, suffered 
 much the more severely, so that Ethel was the fir- 
 ready to go on deck again, thankful to escape the 
 close and dreary monotony of a narrow cabin, and 
 get a little fresh air above. Mr Lyle escorted her 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 65 
 
 to the deck, settled her in the quiet nook behind 
 the wheel-house, well provided with books and 
 wraps, and then, with an apology, returned to his 
 wife, who so much needed his care. Ethel was 
 glad to recline in perfect quietness, watching the 
 novel scene ; the boundless ocean on all sides, with 
 here and there a distant sail in the offing, the only 
 object to break the monotony of the limitless blue ; 
 with the steady drive, drive, of the great screw 
 churning up the glittering Hnes of foam in the 
 vessel's wake. It seemed to lull her into a dreamy, 
 semi-unconscious condition, in which past, present, 
 and future seemed hopelessly blurred and indis- 
 tinguishably mingled, — even the sense of pain being 
 soothed to sleep, as if under the influence of an 
 anodyne. She gave no heed to the groups of 
 passengers dotted over the deck, or pacing up and 
 down it ; nor did she notice that Mr Stuart and 
 the fair-haired young man he had called 'Kavanagh' 
 approached her at short intervals in the course of 
 their promenade, glancing with interest in her 
 direction, and instinctively lowering their voices 
 whenever they drew near the chair, whose occupant 
 
 aotionless that they thought her fast asleep. 
 
 ngth she half started up, as a sudden puff 
 
 * w. a turned over the leaves of a small book that 
 
 liad been lying open but unheeded on her lap. 
 
 As she did so, ^^e book slipped down on the deck, 
 
 its leaves stil flapping, sliding gradually away 
 
 E 
 
66 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 from her outstretched hand. Young Kavanagh 
 was by her side in a moment, and had caujrhfc it 
 up and handed it to her with his most courteous 
 bow, before she could remember who he was, or 
 where she had seen him U fore. Then her eye fell 
 on Mr Stuart, who had also come forward with the 
 same intention. 
 
 Tm so much obliged to you,' she said, after 
 returning the salutation of the two young men. 
 
 * I should not have liked to lose tJiat I I see one 
 must be more careful at sea.' 
 
 ' Ah ! Matthew Arnold's poems,* exclaimed 
 Kavanagh presently, his blue eyes lighted up 
 with the pleasure always excited in them by the 
 sight of an attractive woman. ' Are they favourites 
 of yours ? ' 
 
 ' Some of them are,' she replied, with some 
 reserve. 
 
 * It's not the sort of poetry that young ladies in 
 general care about, so far as / know,' said 
 Kavanagh, who was evidently somewhat irrepress- 
 ible, while Mr Stuart listened, with his observant, 
 somewhat amused expression. Kavanagh had taken 
 a seat near, and was turning over the leaves of the 
 book with a simultaneous request for permission tc 
 do so. 
 
 'I don't know* — said Miss Howard honestly, 
 
 * that I should ever have found them out for myself ! 
 I learned to care for them by hearing some of them 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 67 
 
 read to rae so often that I have them almost by 
 heart. Besides they are especially interesting to 
 me for another reason. Mr Arnold was a personal 
 friend of my uncle's, and once came to visit him.* 
 
 ' Ah ! * exclaimed Kavanagh, enthusiastically. 
 ' How delightful to actually come in contact with 
 such men! That must have been a privilege 
 indeed ! Norman,' he said turning to Mr Stuart, 
 ' I say, do you know " Bugby Chapel ? " No. Well 
 then, read it now. It will just suit you; — may he, 
 Miss Howard ? ' he asked turning to her. 
 
 ' Certainly,' she said, as Mr Stuart remarked 
 rather drily : — 
 
 ' I didn't know he was a favourite of yours.* 
 
 ' Why ? Mayn't a man enjoy Arnold and 
 Browning as well as Rossetti and Swinburne ? I 
 go in for catholicity in taste, you know ! ' 
 
 Mr Stuart took the book, and was quickly ab- 
 sorbed in the poem indicated, while Mr Kavanagh 
 forthwith demanded of Miss Howard what she 
 thought of Browning, to which she was obliged 
 to reply that she had read very little of him, and 
 was at once offered the loan of as many of his 
 poems as would have kept her hard at work 
 during the whole remainder of the voyage ; after 
 which Mr Kavanagh proceeded to discourse with 
 all the confidence of an enthusiastic modern 
 student, on the distinguishing excellences and 
 limitations of Tennyson and Browning, Morris 
 
ir 
 
 68 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 
 and Swinburne, till Miss Howard was filled with 
 amazement at his encyclopoedic knowledge and 
 copious fluency. 
 
 ' Kavanagh is fresh from a University course of 
 English literature,' remarked Mr Stuart, looking 
 up at last from his absorbed perusal of the poem. 
 ' One has to bear that in mind to save one from 
 absolute humiliation, Miss Howard ! ' 
 
 ' Please don't pay any attention to him, Miss 
 Howard,' said Kavanagh, persuasively. ' That's the 
 way he's always professing ignorance, but once 
 in a while he will come out with things that 
 show that he knows a great deal more than he 
 pretends. How do you like that, Norman ? Has 
 the right ring, has it not ? ' 
 
 • It is very beautiful,' Mr Stuart replied, medi- 
 tatively. ' Somehow, I had scarcely thought that 
 Matthew Arnold could have expressed himself 
 quite as he does here. I thought his position 
 was more coldly neutral.' 
 
 * My uncle used to say,' replied Miss Howard, 
 ' that the influence of his father's teaching and 
 character had left such an indelible impression 
 on his heart, that, when its deepest feeling was 
 stirred, as it was then, the impression showed 
 itself.' 
 
 'I understand that very well, indeed,' said 
 Stuart. * The influence of one living human per- 
 sonality often counts for more with us than all 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 69 
 
 the arguments that ever were constructed. But 
 there's the luncheon bell, and somehow one always 
 feels ready for it, strange to say ! ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Kavanagh. * I've been having inti- 
 mations of a lunch not realised, for the last half 
 hour.' 
 
 'Miss Howard,this flippancy is really inexcusable ! 
 Do you feel equal to going down ? * said Mr Stuart. 
 
 Miss Howard very much preferred to stay where 
 she was ; and Mr Stuart at once offered to bring 
 up a tray for her, sending off Mr Lyle, who came 
 up on the same errand, to attend to his own 
 luncheon. 
 
 And Ethel, to her surprise, found herself quite 
 capable of doing justice to the liberal supplies 
 which her two new acquaintances speedily brought 
 up for her refreshment. She had not so much 
 enjoyed a meal for many weeks past. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 The conversation just narrated was the first of a 
 good many three-cornered discussions. Mr Stuart 
 and Kavanagh frequently found their way, by a 
 natural attraction, to Miss Howard's corner of the 
 deck, the latter being usually chief speaker. It 
 entertained Ethel to listen to his long discursive 
 monologues, while Mr Stuart would occasionally 
 put in some ironical, though good-natured caveats. 
 Kavanagh's travelling library seemed to be exten- 
 sive, to judge by the number of volumes he was 
 constantly inviting Miss Howard, *to look into 
 a little.' In fact, she was almost bewildered by the 
 number of new writers of whom he discoursed so 
 fluently, brought up as she had been mainly on the 
 English classics — although she had, of course, heard 
 some of the names referred to by Edgar Fane. 
 Moreover, Mr Kavanag.- was well armed with 
 quotations, and was an excellent reciter, so that a 
 more entertaining companion on shipboard could 
 scarcely be desired. Yet sometimes Ethel found 
 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 71 
 
 herself wishing that Mr Stuart would talk a little 
 more. She felt as if she would like to know him 
 better, and that, somehow she made very little pro- 
 gress in so doing. He seemed quite satisfied to sit 
 and listen to Kavanagh's rhapsodies with a half 
 critical, half admiring look in his thoughtful eyes, 
 which made Ethel feel that he must be strongly 
 attached to tlie young man, notwithstanding the 
 great difference between them. But she felt more 
 and more convinced, as the days went by, and she 
 noticed how Kavanagh with his limited range of 
 experience, was perpetually repeating himself, that 
 Mr Stuart could have talked better than his young 
 cousin if he had liked to try. But he evidently 
 woidd not try, and, sometimes to Ethel's surprise, 
 and even slight chagrin, he would rise and leave 
 Kavanagh and herself to follow out one of their 
 discussions, while he thoughtfully paced the deck 
 alone. Their talk bored him, she supposed. No 
 doubt they were too bookish and sentimental, but 
 Kavanagh would have it so, and it seemed impossible 
 not to follow his lead. Yet she would sometimes 
 find her attention wandering from one of Kavanagh's 
 enthusiastic tirades, while she followed with her 
 eyes the stalwart figure of Mr Stuart, wondering 
 what he might be thinking about, with that almost 
 sternly grave look on his face ; while she occasion- 
 ally caught a rapid wistful glance in the direction 
 of Kavanagh and herself. 
 
72 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE 
 
 They were two thirds of the way across, before 
 Mrs Lyle felt well enough to be one of the deck 
 party. Her presence seemed to bring a more 
 practical every-day element into the circle. She 
 was constantly bringing the others, Mr Lyle in- 
 cluded, into the region of common sense, as she 
 called it. She openly made fun of some of 
 Kavanagh's rhapsodies and little affectations of 
 literary criticism, and privately chaffed Ethel about 
 the evident devotion of the romantic youth. 
 
 ' If it were any other girl, my dear, I should call 
 it a flirtation, but I know you couldn't flirt if you 
 tried, and that young fellow is rather too openly 
 eager to please, for the usual style of flirtation. 
 If I am not mistaken, Mr Stuart thinks there is 
 something in it.' 
 
 * Oh, I hope not ! * exclaimed Ethel ; to whom the 
 very word flirtation was odious. 
 
 ' Oh, come dear, I didn't mean anything serious. 
 You needn't look so distressed. It's the most 
 natural thing in the world for a clever young 
 fellow, with all his time on his hands, to devote 
 himself to showing off and making himself agree- 
 able to any fair maiden he meets, even if she were 
 much less fair than you, cherie. That youth is far 
 too much in love with himself to be the victim of 
 any grande passion yet awhile. And it's a charm- 
 ing youth in its way, only the other is worth a 
 hundred of it ! ' 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 73 
 
 ' So I think too/ said Ethel, frankly. 
 
 But this remark of Mrs Lyle 's put her on her 
 guard, and she became a trifle more distant to 
 young Kavanagh, who forthwith began to wonder 
 whether he might have in any way offended her. 
 Mr Stuart, too, looked a little puzzled at the shadow 
 that seemed to have stolen over the cordiality of 
 their intercourse. They still found plenty of enter- 
 tainment, however, in watching the other groups 
 of passengers, and Kavanagh and Mrs Lyle vied 
 with each other in constructing imaginary histories 
 and futures for them. There was the fussy im- 
 patient, military gentleman, who, as Kavanagh 
 said, seemed always to be ordering a regiment, 
 and who must be going out to be commander-in- 
 chief. Then there was the pale lady in widow's 
 weeds, with her two little boys, who, Kavanagh 
 declared, had buried her husband on the shores of 
 the Mediterranean, and who would eventually con- 
 sole herself by marrying a certain tall, thin, bare- 
 faced individual who was evidently a scientist. 
 Then there was the large family of sturdy English 
 folk whom Kavanagh dubbed * the colonists,' and for 
 whom he predicted a glowingly prosperous future 
 in the north-west. He himself had jast made a 
 rapid trip across the 'Continent' with his cousin, and 
 was full to overflowing of the scenery, picture- 
 galleries, and cathedrals, of which he had had a 
 
74 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 hasty glimpse, and of which he could discourse ad 
 infinitum. 
 
 While these playful talks were going on, Mr 
 Stuart was usually engaged in earnest discussions 
 with Mr Lyle regarding leading social questions of 
 the day, which showed that he had thought to some 
 purpose abou^. some of the problems of most practical 
 interest. Mr Lyle, who was the only clergyman on 
 board, had added to his other functions of temporary 
 chaplain, that of visiting the sick and suffering 
 among the steerage passengers, and Mr Stuart 
 accompanied him on some of these * descents to 
 Avernus,' as Kavanagh called them. And, as Mr 
 Lyle would afterwards inform Ethel, Mr Stuart 
 never went without doing something to relieve the 
 suffering he saw. Mr Lyle and he frequently dis- 
 cussed the glaringly disproportionate discomfort in 
 the steerage, as one of the many obvious practical 
 contradictions to a professed religion of brotherly 
 love ; while the sad stories of some of the emigrants 
 enlisted the warmest sympathies of the ladies. 
 One poor young woman, in particular, going out 
 with two children to join her young husband, was 
 the object of special compassion, when they heard 
 that one of her children had died on the passage, 
 and that she herself was so ill that it was doubtful 
 whether she would live to reach Quebec. Mrs Lyle 
 and Ethel went down to see her, well supplied with 
 lemons, jellies, and other little dainties, to tempt her 
 
 fiilj'iii 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 75 
 
 to take a little nourishment. But it was almost too 
 much for Miss Howard. 
 
 'Oh, why must things be so unequal in this 
 world?' she exclaimed, as they sat on deck that 
 evening, watching one of the rich glowing sunsets 
 they were now enjoying, gradually give way to the 
 mild radiance of a growing moon. * It seems almost 
 selfish to enjoy all that we do, while there is so much 
 suffering so near us. At home our poor people all 
 seemed as comfortable in their way as we were in 
 ours. I wonder they ever make up their minds to 
 go through it all ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, well, they don't know much about it before 
 they start; and, after all, the discomfort is soon 
 over ! ' suggested Kavanagh, consolingly. 
 
 • But worse than that,' said Mr Stuart, * is what 
 they often have to endure after — the first winter 
 especially ! I don't wonder that the starving 
 denizens of East London catch at any straw, but 
 really the weakly Londoner is one of the last people 
 who should be encouraged to emigrate. He is usually 
 unfit for hard work, as well as for the severity of 
 our winter climate, w^hen all out-door work is at a 
 stand-still, and there is scarcely any employment, 
 even for our own day-labourers. He and his family 
 have to drag out a suflfering existence on charity, 
 with scanty supply of the warm clothing they would 
 need to meet a degree of cold which they have never 
 known before. The consequence is an amount of 
 
76 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT ORANGE 
 
 misery, every winter, in our large towns and cities 
 that would rather surprise the officers of our 
 emigration societies. It is downright cruelty to 
 send feeble, stunted paupers to a country like 
 Canada, especially without money enough to tide 
 them over the first inevitably idle winter. Only 
 the strong and energetic should be sent to us, and 
 these not later than May, so that they may have the 
 whole summer before them. These, if they choose 
 to go out to conquer the wilderness, may do very 
 well. But the sickly, starved men and women, and 
 the poor stunted children — volumes could be written 
 about the misery which many of these endure! * 
 
 He spoke with force and effect, as he always did 
 when stirred by any subject that strongly appealed 
 to his sympathies. 
 
 'Well,' said MrLyle, 'when I have had some 
 Canadian experience, I may be able to give a few 
 points to one or two of our emigration societies.' 
 
 ' Come, Miss Howard,' said Kavanagh, 'just look 
 at the exquisite effect of that tremulous line of 
 silver on the sea. It's a shame to be losing any of 
 this beauty, worrying over matters you cannot 
 mend.* 
 
 ' But it seems selfish not to think of them, at 
 least,' said Ethel. 
 
 ' I avoid it on principle,' he replied, ' it's out of 
 my line to turn reformer, and I don't believe in 
 torturing myself uselessly. My cousin and Mr 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT ORANGE 77 
 
 Lyle seem positively to enjoy the sight of suffering, 
 just as a doctor does that of sickness, with a view, 
 to relieving it, you know ! But my line is art, 
 rather than philanthropy, and I believe in Goethe's 
 plan, not to let his mental poise be disturbed 
 by painful humanitarian considerations.' 
 
 ' My uncle used to call Goethe a selfish egoist,' 
 said Ethel, her thoughts going back to old time 
 discussions between her uncle and Edgar Fane, 
 when the latter had adopted something of 
 Kavanagh's present line of thought. She scarcely 
 heard his reply, so much had the sudden recollec- 
 tion overpowered the present. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 The Parisian entered the Gulf of St Lawrence, 
 and its passengers had soon a range of rugged 
 savage hills in sight, which, Mr Stuart told them, 
 were the outposts of the great Laurentian range of 
 rocky ramparts, ' the oldest formation in the world,' 
 he assured them, though paradoxically situated in 
 a ' new country.' He had a good deal to tell them, 
 suggested by the scenes through which they were 
 passing, about the pioneer explorers of Canada — 
 Cartier, Champlain, De Monts, Poutrincourt — their 
 early voyages of discovery, the sufferings they 
 endured, and their long and weary struggle, first 
 with the Indian savages, then with their English 
 neighbours, and finally with both combined. He 
 was much better informed about these matters 
 than his discursive cousin — as Ethel could easily 
 see. He even pointed out a wild rocky island, 
 lashed by the surge, on which a certain noble 
 adventurer had brutally landed his niece, abandon- 
 ing her to perish there with the lover who threw 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIR MOUNT ORANGE 79 
 
 himself into the sea and swam to join her. Yet 
 the poor girl lived on, though her lover died — lived 
 on alone, shooting wild animals to supply herself 
 with food and clothing, till, at last, she was 
 accidentally found by a passing vessel, and rescued 
 from a living grave. 
 
 ' What a subject for a tragic poem in the style of 
 one of Browning's dramatic monologues ! ' ex- 
 claimed Kavanagh. 
 
 ' Why don't you write one, then ? ' asked Mrs 
 Lyle, *I am sure you must write poetry, Mr 
 Kavanagh.* 
 
 ' He does, a little,' said Mr Stuart, ' But I don't 
 give him much encouragement to waste time with 
 it.' 
 
 ' Oh do repeat some, won't you ? ' said Mrs Lyle. 
 
 ' I'm afraid you would find it anything but 
 edifying ! Besides, I never can remember anything 
 appropriate when I try.' 
 
 ' Give us what I found you inditing last night,' 
 suggested Mr Stuart, gravely, yet with a little 
 mischief in his glance. 
 
 ' Thanks awfully ; that is for strictly private 
 circulation,* he said, colouring slightly. 
 
 * Well now, Mr Kavanagh,' said Mrs Lyle, * such 
 a critic as you are ought to be able to give other 
 people something to criticise. Can't you write 
 some verses now, about this lovely night and those 
 moonlit waves, with some nice moral reflection 
 
8o THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 brought in at the end, something we could all 
 keep as a souvenir of the voyage and of our 
 pleasant talks, when we are all scattered to the 
 four winds ? ' 
 
 A s'ight cloud seemed to pass over the party, 
 called up by the allusion to their approaching 
 separation. 
 
 * I don't believe in writing to order, you know, 
 Mrs Lyle; nor do I think moral reflections good 
 art.* Kavanagh never felt quite sure that Mrs 
 Lyle was not poking fun at him. 
 
 ' Oh, but just for the occasion, you know ! It 
 would be very nice, really. Don't you think so, 
 Ethel?' 
 
 'Yes, indeed,' said Miss Howard, sincerely. *I 
 think it would be delightful to have such a 
 souvenir, if Mr Kavanagh would be kind enough 
 to give it to us.' 
 
 ' Well — I'll see what I Cfi-n do,' he replied, ' but 
 now I must go to get ready some letters for 
 Rimouski — are yours ready, Norman ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes, I wrote mine this morning.' 
 
 * Always ahead of time,' he said, somewhat envi- 
 ously. ' Well, I'll see if inspiration visits me when 
 I take pen in hand.' And he went off, humming 
 *A la Claire Fontaine' a French Canadian air of 
 which he was very fond. 
 
 * Will is a good fellow,' remarked Mr Stuart, 
 looking affectionately after him ; ' I know yov. 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 8i 
 
 think him a little conceited, Mrs Lyle, but he has 
 something in him, and if he only has the patience to 
 work it out, I hope to be proud of him some day.' 
 
 ' Conceit is rather a common fault in the young 
 men of this age,' remarked Mr Lylc, indulgently. 
 ' It's a wonder that any of them escape it, when 
 they seem to learn so much more than their elders 
 ever had the chance of doing.' 
 
 •Yes,' said Mr Stuart. ' I sometimes w^sh I had 
 had his long University course, but I was obliged 
 to hurry things up a little, and have never found 
 time to make up for it by private reading.' 
 
 He did not say — what Ethel learned long after — 
 that, his own years of study had been shortened, in 
 order the sooner to help others, and that Kavanagh 
 had had his * long course * mainly through his 
 generous intervention. 
 
 Mrs Lyle was still easily fatigued, and went below 
 early. But the night was so perfect, that Miss 
 Howard gladly acceded to Mr Lyle's suggestion, 
 that she should remain longer on deck to watch the 
 silvery wake of the vessel, the clear sky, and the 
 solemn curves of the distant hills, he himself pro- 
 mising to return for a while, to have a little more 
 of their last night at sea. 
 
 ' When shall we reach Quebec ? * asked Ethel, 
 after a long silence, during which her mind had 
 been ontrunninj; the vessel's course westward. 
 
 'Sometime to-morrow evening,' he replied, and 
 
 F 
 
82 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 after a moment's silence continued, 'We shall have 
 a charming sail to-morrow, up the St Lawrence, 
 between these grand hilk, all the way to Quebec !' 
 
 She scarcely noticed his remark. Presently she 
 stauled him with the question, ' What is my cousin 
 Fanny like, Mr Stuart ? ' 
 
 He hesitated a moment, and his words when they 
 came, seemed slightly constrained. 
 
 * How can I describe her ? I'm not at all good at 
 that sort of thing ! Perhaps the best I can do is lo 
 say that she is as different from you as could very 
 well be, if that gives you any light on the subject' 
 
 * It is rather vague,' replied Miss Howai-d, smiling. 
 'Well, I shall try to be a little more explicit. 
 
 She is fair, with blue eyes, and hair of a golden 
 tint, very strong and full of life, and what her 
 friends call a very jolly girl. She can swim and 
 row and climb hills, and do almost everything her 
 brothers can do. And, Miss Howard — don't be 
 shocked — but she can do one thing you never 
 could!' 
 
 'What is that?' inquired Ethel, wonderingly, 
 though she added, ' I'm sure from your account she 
 can do several things I can't.' 
 
 ' She is, if the truth must be told, I am sorry to 
 say, she is a great flirt ! ' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' exclaimed Ethel, in dismay, ' I'm so sorry ! 
 I'm pfraid — ' 'I shall not like her,' she was about to 
 say, but stopped. 
 
 an; 
 
 he 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 83 
 
 'Yes you will like her very much' he said, 
 answering her interrupted speech. * You couldn't 
 help liking her. She is so frank and generous and 
 good-humoured, and as happy as the day is long. I 
 always find her happines \ quite infectious, and her 
 flirting is so constitutiona', almost unconscious, that 
 you can't find much fault with it, and on the whole 
 it is very innocent.' 
 
 Ethel was still silent and dissatisfied. She had 
 80 often heard her uncle speak severely of the 
 'selfish vulgarity' of flirting, that this apparent 
 „ji^»n tion on the part of a man like Mr Stuart, to 
 '.'1 Of ' she had unconsciously begun to attribute her 
 uncle's high ideal in all things, was rather disap- 
 pointing. He divined her thought, and presently 
 went on. 
 
 'Please don't misunderstand me, I think that 
 flirting with intent to deceive, is selfish and wicked. 
 A man or woman who deliberately tries to win the 
 love of another, just from selfish vanity, is doing a 
 cruel thing, and taking a terrible risk. But your 
 cousin's flirting is so open and so impartial, that it 
 could not deceive anyone but a fool ! She r.iay 
 give pain by it sometimes!' he added, in a lower 
 tone, * but that she does not realise, or she would 
 be too kind-hearted to do it, that is, if she could 
 help it, which I doubt.' 
 
 'And my aunt?' said Ethel, glad to change a 
 somewhat unsatisfactory subject. 
 
84 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 ' Oh, Mrs Aylmer is kindness personified, in my 
 estimation. I have reason to know that, for she 
 has been like a mother to me ever since I knew her, 
 and especially since ray own mother died, a year 
 or two since. Miss Howard, I wish you had known 
 herV 
 
 She looked up surprised at the sudden turn of 
 hj^" remark, and caught the soi'tened expression 
 of his eyes and of the grave lines of his face. 
 
 ' She came nearer to my idea of perfection than 
 anyone I have ever met,' he continued, in a low tone. 
 * Her death solved the question of questions for me. 
 I have had my doubts and difficulties like most 
 men, I suppose, but i.othing could ever make me 
 doubt that the secret life-spring of such a char- 
 acter, such a life and death as hers, is the true secret 
 of life for us all ! ' 
 
 * I have often felt like that about ray uncle,' said 
 Ethel in a low tone. She could not yet speak of 
 hira without difficulty and emotion. ' If one could 
 only have the least idea how such life goes on! 
 My uncle used often to quote those lines : — 
 
 "Somewhere, surely, afar, 
 In the sounding labour-house vast, 
 Of 1 3ing, is practised that strength ; 
 
 Still thou performest the word 
 
 Of the Spi it in whom thou dost live, 
 
 Prompt, unwearied as here ! " 
 
 Now^ I think of them so often ! ' 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 85 
 
 * Well, of one thing I am sure,' said Mr Stuart. 
 ' When the secrets of that life are revealed we shall 
 wonder at its simplicity, and at ourselves for ever 
 doubting it ! I have no more doubt that my 
 mother is livinoj on in the same lovinof trust which 
 inspired her here, than I have that I myself am now 
 living this limited and imperfect life ! ' 
 
 They were silent for a little while, with the 
 heavy roll of the screw and the rush of the wavtc 
 against the stern for an accompaniment of the 
 silence. Ethel's eyes were moist, she did not know 
 why. 
 
 At length Mr Stuart broke the silence. 'Miss 
 Howard,' he began, * I should like to express to you 
 something of the pleasure that I have had during 
 this voyage, from your society and that of your 
 friends. I hope we shall meet often, and that we 
 shall be friends always.' 
 
 ' I hope so, too, Mr Stuart,' Ethel said, heartily. 
 
 'There is something else that I wanted to tell 
 you/ he went on, more slowly; but just then he 
 was interrupted by the return of Mr Lyle, followed 
 immediately after by Kavanagh, so that the ' some- 
 thing else ' remained unsaid. 
 
 * Well, Will,' said his cousin, seeing a sheet of 
 paper in the young man's hand, 'was the muse 
 propitious?' 
 
 Tni afraid there isn't much muse about it, not 
 even amusing. You know even poet'i can't write 
 
86 THE HEIR OF FAIRMQUNT GRANGE 
 
 to order, and do their best ; however, I have tried 
 to fulfil Mrs Lyle's behest. Oh, she isn't here ! ' 
 
 * No, that's too bad,' said her husband. * But I 
 shall be happy to represent her on this occasion, and 
 she can hear it again.' 
 
 Kavaiiagh was not, perhaps, very sorry to be 
 spared what he would have called the * dry light ' of 
 Mrs Lyle's criticism. 
 
 * It's a Rondeau,' he explained, as he opened his 
 paper and read it by the aid of the moonlight. 
 
 Miss Howard did not much care for Rondeaus, or 
 any other ' poetical confectionery,* as her uncle and 
 Edgar Fane used to call them. But she kept this 
 to herself, and Kavanagh began — 
 
 * Straight to her goal from eve till day, 
 Untired she cleaves her watery way ; 
 She may not change her course for fear 
 Of hidden rocks or tempests near ; 
 Naught lures her from her course to stray ! 
 
 Tliu sparkling moonbeams dance and play 
 About her wake ; she will not stay, 
 
 But still, through light and darkuess steer, 
 Straight to her goal. 
 
 Even so my heart, mayeat thou obey 
 'Mid darkening clouds or passion's play, 
 The compass true that guides thee here. 
 Maintain thy course serene and clear, 
 'Neath summer sun or winter grey, 
 Straight to thy goal ! ' 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 87 
 
 ' I think it's very good indeed,' said Mr Lyle, 
 while Ethel joined in thanking him for this pretty, 
 souvenir of their moonlight nights at sea. Mr 
 Stuart only said, 'Take your sermon home, Will.' 
 Then the spell of the moonlight settled down upon 
 them, and they sat on almost in silence, reluctant 
 to break up their last evening on shipboard. Mr 
 Lyle at length looked at his watch, and declared 
 that it was almost midnight; and they unwil- 
 lingly said good-night, and went below. 
 
 Miss Howard lay long awake that night, think- 
 ing over the past few days, which seemed to mark 
 a new era in her life. She felt as if she had never 
 until now appreciated the pleasant interlude it had 
 made for her. Besides the novelty of the experi- 
 ence, the dreamy eventless days at sea had had the 
 effect of dulling the pain of the previous weeks, 
 and making a gulf between them and the present, 
 which tended to make previous impressions faint 
 and shadowy. Painful thoughts and memories had 
 been for the time lulled to sleep, a result materially 
 promoted by the stimulating companionship of her 
 two new friends. She was surprised to recognise 
 how much less the thoucrht of Edgar Fane now 
 haunted her than it had done, much to her annoy- 
 ance, in the beginning of the voyage. The number 
 of new ideas that Kavanagh was always presenting 
 to her mind, and the new lights in which she had 
 come to look at old subjects, had the natural effect 
 
88 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 of diminishing the intensity of former feelings. 
 She was somewhat dismayed to find that tliere 
 seemed to be an interval of positive mental dis- 
 tance between her present life and that she had 
 left behind, analagous to the leagues of sea that 
 intervened between her and old England. Yet 
 even now the thought of Fane could not be vividly 
 suggested by any passing association without a 
 throb of pain that left an ache behind. And some- 
 how she found herself frequently making in- 
 voluntary mental comparisons between Fane and 
 Mr Stuart, and also between Kavanagh and his 
 cousin, considerably to the advantage of the latter. 
 How kind and thoughtful he always was, though 
 he did not seem to like her nearly as well as 
 Kavanagh did. And it seemed as if, through the 
 talks she had overheard between him and Mr Lyie, 
 she looked out into a world compared with which 
 her own little one at home was as a land-locked 
 pool beside this great breezy sea — a world of storm 
 and stress indeed, bat of life and energy — a world 
 in which there was so much that called for high 
 and earnest effort, that there seemed to be scarcely 
 any room for brooding over mere personal loss and 
 pain — a world in which each was called to do all he 
 or she could for the common weal. She felt she 
 should be better all her life long for this outlook, 
 and for knowing Mr Stuart. But what could be the 
 'something else' that he had wanted to say to her ? 
 
 
 ii 
 
 1 
 
 [ 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 The following was a glorious July day, and the 
 great green hills which seemed to draw nearer as the 
 grand river narrowed to some twenty miles across, 
 looked grander still, as the shadows of the soft 
 fleecy clouds flitted across the masses of fir and 
 birch woods that clothed them from base to summit. 
 Scarcely a human habitation broke this wild 
 solitude. As Mr Stuart remarked, it was still as 
 lonely in its grandeur, as when Cartier's * white- 
 winged canoes' as the Indians called them, first 
 floated up the mighty river. 
 
 ' One can indeed imagine something of his delight 
 in the discovery of such a magnificent stream,' 
 remarked Mr Lyle. * Oh, there seems to be a pretty 
 large place in the distance ! ' 
 
 ' That is Cacouna, with Riviere du Loup, close by, 
 both very favourite resorts,' said Mr Stuart, 'though 
 nut in my opinion to compare for scenery with 
 Murray Bay, of which we shall get a glimpse 
 presently, Miss Howard. Nearer to us, to the 
 
90 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 ■ iiir 
 
 lI'Hl iilll 
 
 right, you may catch a glimpse of two or three 
 houses, and a gap, which is the mouth of the 
 Saguenay, of which you may have heard. Those 
 ranks of shadowy hills that you can see stretching 
 away to the northward, are the mountain walls that 
 guard the deep, still, gloomy stream, which winds 
 about among them for some hundred and fifty miles.' 
 
 * Yes,' said Kavanagh, * it is far grander, in my 
 opinion, than the Rhine, though its grandeur 
 is of a sombre savage type, very different from the 
 " exulting and abounding river," between " the hills 
 that bear the corn and wine ! " These bear nothing 
 but rugged firs and half starved birches, sometimes 
 only the .skeletons of the same, alternating with 
 great splintered and weather-.scarred rocks ; and 
 still they have the overpowering fascination of 
 grandeur and sublimity. I wonder why it is that 
 darkness, ruggedness, gloom, and mystery, seem to 
 exercise, after all, a more powerful fascination 
 than the sunniest and most luxuriant beauty. * 
 
 * I suppose/ said Mr Lyle, ' because they are more 
 in harmony with the un.satisfied, striving, restless 
 human spirit, which nothing material can ever 
 satisfy, or compel to say, at any moment, " stay, 
 thou art fair ! " ' — 
 
 as 
 
 ' " Now is for dogs and apes, 
 Man has for ever " ' — 
 
 quoted Mr Stuart. 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 91 
 'Or, as Shelley puts it,* said Miss Howard — 
 
 " We look before and after, 
 And pine for what is " ' — 
 
 'Lunch!' — exclaimed Kavanagh, starting to his 
 feet. * It is a shame to lose any of this beauty. 
 But the best part of it is to come 5'et, so, the sooner 
 we get through the material part of our unsatis- 
 fying satisfaction, the more time we shall have for 
 the other thing.' 
 
 The summer afternoon wore all too swiftly away, 
 as they steamed on, against the tide, among ever 
 opening vistas of high green hills and great blue 
 bays, with little French hamlets at intervals 
 showing white against the green, or perched 
 beside a guardian church, on the summit of the 
 height. The pretty cove of Murray Bay, nestling 
 in the bosom of the surroundinof hills, with its loncj 
 high pier stretching out into the river, was duly 
 pointed out by Mr Stuart, and Ethel strained her 
 eyes to catch a glimpse of the little cluster of 
 houses of Point-au-PiCf among which he told her 
 was Mrs Aylmer's summer cottage. She tried to 
 imagine what life there would be like, while Mr 
 Stuart pointed out the pretty brown river that ran 
 down, dark and cold, from the recesses of the hills, 
 and emerged into the bay, just where the gleam of 
 a white church showed picturesquely against dark 
 bosky heights. 
 
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 92 THE UBIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 
 
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 'You will be charmed with Murray Bay, Miss 
 Howard/ he said. ' You and your cousin w ill be 
 rambling among the hills, and the queer liUle 
 French farms all day long, while I ara pouring ov;r 
 dry books and dusty law papers. For Mr Aylmer 
 is patiently waiting till I can relieve him of the 
 charge of the office, which he doesn't like to leave 
 altogether to clerks, even in the long vacation, so I 
 shall have to hasten westward almost immediately.' 
 
 Then there were more grand sweeps of river, 
 and the ever- varying succession of beautiful hill 
 outlines, dappled with the fleeting shadows of the 
 light summer clouds, and relieved by the scattered 
 white villages that gradually formed a continuous 
 line along the right shore. On the southern bank 
 the hills were much more remote, melting away in 
 delicate atmospheric tints, while a wide sweep of 
 level country skirted the shore, and towns and 
 villages gleamed out in the slanting rays of the 
 western sun. 
 
 'That is the lie aux Coudrea' said Mr Stuart, 
 'so called from the filberts that Cartier found there 
 on his first cruise.' 
 
 Then the long, populous Isle of Orleans came into 
 view, and he told them that it had first been called 
 the Isle of Bacchns, from its abundancv<) of wild 
 grapes, and how it had been, for a time, the asylum 
 of the poor persecuted Huron Indians, who had 
 been well-nigh exterminated by the fierce Iroquois. 
 
G?i? 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT ORANGE 93 
 
 ly. Miss 
 will be 
 jr liUle 
 ing ovjr 
 Aylmer 
 I of the 
 bo leave 
 on, so I 
 diately.' 
 if river, 
 iful hill 
 } of the 
 mattered 
 tinuous 
 
 n bank 
 
 1 
 
 kway in 
 
 ireep of 
 
 ns and 
 
 of the 
 
 Stuart, 
 1 there 
 
 [le into 
 called 
 
 wild 
 sylum 
 
 had 
 quois. 
 
 But what was that sheen of golden glory, glow- 
 ing against a shadowy grey background, as they 
 steamed up the narrow channel between Orleans 
 and the shore, along which ran a line of white 
 houses, like a fringe ? 
 
 'There it is, there's Quebec!' exclaimed Kavanagh 
 eagerly. ' Doesn't she sit like a crowned queen on 
 her rocky throne? We Canadians are far prouder 
 of Quebec than you are of London. It's the central 
 point of our country's history.' 
 
 ' I didn't know you had a country, distinct from 
 Britain,' said Miss Howard. Kavanagh laughed as 
 he replied : 
 
 ' Oh, I assure you many of ns think we have ! 
 When you live in a country that stretches across a 
 continent, over a few millions of square miles, you 
 may be excused for thinking it a country, and not 
 merely a colony. We have a considerable party 
 looking towards independence, sooner or later, you 
 know; quorum magna jyara fui, as we used to say 
 at school.' 
 
 * And are you in favour of that too, Mr Stuart ? ' 
 
 'I am not politician enough to decide such a 
 question,' he replied with a smile. ' And the larger 
 humanitarian problems are so much more interest- 
 ing to me than political ones, that I scarcely care 
 to concern myself with questions in which I should 
 feel myself so much at fault. I believe Canada 
 has a destiny of her own to work out, and I think 
 
i 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
 94 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 it more likely, more in accordance with experience, 
 that she will achieve her destiny as an independent 
 nationality, than as a part of any great nation. 
 But I leave that, as I do other matters, to " the 
 Divinity that shapes our ends." Whatever her 
 ultimate destiny may be, she will be best fitted to 
 fulfil it as she grows into a healthy national spirit 
 now. That is all I care about.' 
 
 They were rapidly nearing Quebec, and the 
 three strangers eagerly watched the unfolding 
 picture, as the distant golden sheen gradually 
 resolved itself into houses, churches, terraces ; with 
 the Citadel perched aloft on the dark frowning 
 height, scowling defiance on all intruders. 
 
 'Certainly this picture is very dififerent from 
 what Cartier or Champlain saw here when they 
 first cast anchor under that great rock,' said Mr 
 Lyle. 
 
 ' Yes,* said Mr Stuart, ' I've often tried to imagine 
 how it all looked to Champlain. He, no doubt, 
 often imagined some such picture as this in the far 
 future, for he seemed, from the first, to have fore- 
 seen that this bare rock was the key to the posses- 
 sion of Canada. That is Dufferin Terrace — that 
 long line of railing broken by the kiosquea at the 
 corners. It is the pride of Quebec, and no wonder, 
 for the view is enchanting. I like it almost better 
 than the wider view from the Citadel, because it is 
 more limited, and does not put your receptive 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 95 
 
 powers to so severe a strain. One can enjoy the 
 details of the scene better when there is less of the 
 illimitable.* 
 
 And now they were rapidly approaching the 
 busj quay at L6vi.s, opposite the city, where many 
 of the j^assengers were to take the waiting train. 
 The Lyles were to remain in Quebec while Ethel 
 did, and, very soon, the whole party were 
 transferred, with their luggage, to the ferryboat 
 that was to take them across the mile- wide strait. 
 As they drew near, Ethel gazed in a delighted 
 surprise at the old grey masses of buildings rising 
 tier above tier from the water's edge, their quaint 
 air of antiquity recalling the old Norman towns 
 which she had seen when abroad with her uncle. 
 
 ' It was a " New France," you know, that 
 Champlain founded,* said Mr Stuart — a new Nor- 
 mandy across the sea ; and now it seems in some 
 respects older than old France ; at least, in many 
 ways, it belongs much more to the old regime.' 
 
 'It is so different from one's idea of a new 
 country,* said Miss Howard, ' of course I knew 
 Quebec was old, but I didn*t realise it before.* 
 
 ' Very few English people realise either what a 
 great or what a complex country Canada is,' said 
 Mr Stuart. ' Our race problem, arising out of our 
 eventful history, is the most preplexing one we 
 have to-day.* 
 
 ' And the Philistines would really like to erase 
 
i 
 
 \'^' 
 
 96 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 the old lines in which our most romantic history is 
 written,' said Kavanagh, impatiently. 
 
 His cousin laughed. ' There is your aesthetic 
 point of view/ he said. ' I don't want to see any old 
 landmarks destroyed, but I don't want to see the 
 lines made hard and Fast, or bitten in by jealousy 
 and hatred, but softened and shaded into each 
 other by sympathy and mutual forbearance.' 
 
 * You want the millennium in short,' rejoined his 
 cousin. 
 
 ' We all want it,' said Mr Lyle. 
 
 B}'^ this time the ferryboat reached the pier, 
 where a number of people stood expectant. As 
 they stepped ashore, Ethel noticed a fresh, fair 
 young girl, somewhat sunburnt, in a navy blue 
 ' fishwife ' dress, and a coquettish sailor hat, 
 attended by two sturdy lads. She walked quickly 
 to meet Mr Stuart, who was leading the way, and 
 who, to her utter surprise, bent down and kissed 
 her upturned face, then, turning to Ethel, he said : 
 * Here is your cousin, my dear Fanny.* 
 
 Before Ethel could recover from her surprise, 
 she was seized, kissed, and then a merry ringing 
 voice exclaimed, 
 
 * I am so glad you have come, you darling ! you 
 know I'm your cousin Fanny.* 
 
 X* 
 
 teri- 
 
 i 
 
PART III 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 you 
 
 ' Mt dear, dear, child ; a thousand times welcome I 
 How glad I am to have you with me at last! You 
 are certainly a Howard — but still there is some- 
 thing about you that reminds me so much of my 
 dear sister 1 ' 
 
 These sentiments, with any number of variations 
 on the same theme, were repeated again and agaiif '^ 
 by Mrs Aylmer, as she sat with her arm round her 
 niece in a comfortable apartment prepared for the 
 latter at the St Louis Hotel. Ethel could scarcely 
 get in an answer to any of the numerous questions 
 put to her, as to her health, her experiences, the 
 voyage, and all the friends she had left behind. 
 
 ' And how glad I am that you happened to come 
 in the same steamer with Norman Stuart ! He is 
 such a dear fellow 1 I suppose he told you that he 
 is engaged to Fanny. It was rather a surprise to 
 as when he asked us for her ; he is so much older 
 
 G 
 
 ' n 
 
I 
 
 m', ■ 
 
 
 98 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 
 
 and graver, and she was so very young at the time ! 
 They have been engaged for two or three years, you 
 know. But it's a great satisfaction to nie to think 
 of having hira for a son-in-law. You see, we know 
 him so thoroughly, and Iiave found him so truly 
 estimable, and he is so good and kind that we can 
 fully trust her to him — so different from most young 
 men. He has been such an excellent son and 
 brother, too. Well, dear, I see you are looking very 
 tired, and it's too bad of me to keep on talking so 
 long ! Now, you must feel quite at home with us, 
 and do exactly as you feel inclined. You must lie 
 down now and rest — indeed I think you had best 
 go to bed at once. I'll send Fanny to you with a 
 cup of tea. She is having a talk with Norman, I 
 suppose. You will miss your maid here, I am afraid. 
 We don't often indulge in such luxuries here, you 
 know.' 
 
 Ethel protested that she would not miss her maid 
 at all, that she was very independent, and had 
 indeed rather felt a maid a superfluity, and that she 
 hoped Fanny would not be disturbed, as she did not 
 need any tea, but would follow her aunt's advice 
 and retire to rest at once. Very soon, however, 
 Fanny appeared, her bright face showing bright 
 even in the growing dusk, carrying a tiny tray that 
 held a cup and saucer, sugar bowl and cream jug, 
 and some inviting little rolls. 
 
 ' Why, you've got no light yet, dear ; just wait a 
 
 jji 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIR MOUNT RANGE 99 
 
 minute and I'll light the gas. Now, mamma says 
 you must drink this tea and eat as much as you can. 
 She doesn't think you're looking at all well, and 
 neither do I. And you've been at sea so many days, 
 and are not a bit brown ! See how much / am sun- 
 burnt ! Tou know, at Murray Bay we're out all 
 the time.' 
 
 Ethel thought she would have no objection to a 
 little burning, too — so healthy and pure and rich 
 was her cousin's colour. 
 
 ' Norman has been telling me all about how he 
 first met you ; isn't it funny you should have 
 happened to come out together? I hope you like 
 him. Isn't he a darling ? Just see what he has 
 brought me from Florence, when he had so little 
 time there, too ! * 
 
 As Fanny spoke she unclosed a morocco case, 
 displaying a set of fine Florentine mosaic. 
 
 ' Yuu see I always admired Florentine mosaics 
 so much I So he remembered it when he was 
 there — wasn't it nice of him ? See, this was my 
 engagement ring. Isn't it a beauty I I wanted 
 it a diamond set with sapphires, so much, and he 
 took such trouble to get me this.' 
 
 It was indeed a beautiful ring, handsomer than 
 Ethel would somehow have expected Mr Stuart 
 to care to buy. She admired It- sincerely, only 
 wondering a little at the extreme frankness with 
 which Fanny spoke of her betrothed. 
 
loo THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 U'f 
 
 *And how do you like his cousin, Mr Kavanagh?' 
 Hhe ran on, scarcely waiting for a reply. * I have 
 only seen him once before, just when he was going 
 abroad as a young student, and he is so much 
 improved that I should scarcely have recognised 
 him. I think he's delightful ! I tell Norman if I 
 hadn't been engaged to him^ I should certainly fall 
 in love with his cousin. Well, if you won't have 
 anything more, I suppose I had better leave you 
 alone ; or can I do anything to help you ? You 
 know you'll want a good sleep, for we are going to 
 do a lot of sight-seeing to-morrow. And the next 
 day, we are going to take the Saguenay boat to 
 Murray Bay, but we are not going to stop there on 
 the way down, for mamma wants you to see the 
 Saguenay first ; so we shall have a two days' sail 
 on the river ; if you're not tired of it. And Nor- 
 man and Mr Kavanagh are to stay and go with us. 
 Won't that be charming ? ' 
 
 Ethel agreed that it would be very pleasant, and 
 said that it was very good of her aunt to plan so 
 much pleasure for her. But she was rather glad 
 when her vivacious cousin finally left her, and she 
 had put out the light, leaving the moonlight to 
 stream into the room, recalling the glory of the 
 previous nights at sea. She was glad to have a 
 little time to think quietly over all the varied im- 
 pressions of the day; and especially over the 
 surprising piece of news, that Mr Stuart was 
 
 I , 
 
 it 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE loi 
 
 engaged to her cousin Fanny. Somehow, she had 
 never suspected such a thing. No doubt this was 
 the 'something else' that Mr Stuart had been 
 about to tell her I It seemed to be rather a puzzle 
 to her, how it had come about. She could not 
 quite put them together in her mind. Her cousin 
 was certainly very sweet and charming, but yet 
 she did not seem at all the sort of girl that she 
 herself would have expected Mr Stuart to choose. 
 But then, she had often heard Miss Ponsonby say 
 there was no accounting for people's choice in 
 such matters ! It was pleasant, at any rate, that 
 he should be going to be so near a connection, and 
 she hoped, that, as he said, they should always be 
 friends. But still the thought would perpetually 
 recur that this 'jolly girl' could scarcely be just 
 the companion that Mr Stuart would require ! 
 After all, however, it was no business of hers to 
 decide for him. She sincerely hoped he would be 
 happy, in any case. But her experience with 
 Edgar Fane had given her a sort of distrust of lovo 
 in general. She told herself she could never care 
 for any one in that way again. But thxit was no 
 reason why other people should not be happy ! 
 
r: P 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 It Heeined odd, next morning, to Ethel to awuke 
 and find that she wan no longer on ship board ; 
 and to realise that she was indeed in a new and 
 strange land. Mrs Aylmcr came to look for her 
 before she was fully dressed, and at breakfast 
 she met again all her friends of the steamer ; for the 
 old ship party still kept together, with the addition 
 of the new and racy element imparted by the 
 presence of Mrs Aylnier and three of her family. 
 The former looked, in the fresh morning light, 
 rather older than she had at first seemed to Etliel 
 but still a fresh comely motherly matron, recalling 
 her childish vision of years ago. In the warm 
 atmosphere of her frank affection Ethel seemed to 
 feel at home at once. The whole party, including 
 Mr and Mrs Lyle, were to 'do' Quebec together 
 before they separated next morning to proceed to 
 their different destinations. It was a misty morn- 
 ing, and the outlines of the hills were all blotted 
 out by a tantalising curtain of white vapour. Mrs 
 
TUE UEIR OF FAIRMOVNT ORANGE 103 
 
 awake 
 
 board ; 
 
 ew and 
 
 for her 
 
 reakfast 
 
 for tlie 
 
 iddition 
 
 by the 
 
 family. 
 
 light, 
 
 3 Ethel 
 
 icalling 
 warm 
 med to 
 eluding 
 jgether 
 ceed to 
 morn- 
 blotted 
 . Mrs 
 
 Aylnier and Mr Stuart, however, propheHied that 
 this would soon clear away, and that they should 
 have a lovely day. It was decided that instead of 
 at once taking the carriages for the expedition to 
 the Citadel, they should, Mrst of all, visit the Grey 
 Nunnery and the Basilica, both close by, and then 
 walk on to Dufferin Terrace. Their first stop was 
 accordingly made at the Grey Nunnery, the most 
 venerable of all the French conventual establish- 
 ments in Canada, the home of the grey nuns from 
 the time when, in 1639, Madame de la Peltrie and 
 Marie de I'lncarnation, two remarkable enthusiasts, 
 led their little company of religieusea across the 
 stormy taa to this wild and savage wilderness, in 
 order to succour the sick and teach the little Indian 
 children. Mr Stuart bad already given his friends 
 an outline of the interesting stories of some of 
 these missionary pioneers, and therefore it was 
 with a vivid interest that Ethel surveyed the great 
 plain grey building which replaces the original log 
 hut, and the garden alleys in which still stroll the 
 successors of the first devoted band ; where, till 
 lately, stood an aged ash tree under which the 
 charming Madame de la Peltrie used to sit while 
 instructing her young barbarians. 
 
 ' Do you see that lighted lamp suspended there ? ' 
 asked Fanny, coming up to Ethel in the richly 
 decorated chapel, which the placid-faced nun who 
 escorted them was so proud and eager to display. 
 
 
104 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 
 1^ 
 
 * Yes,' replied Ethel, ' whet is it for ? It looks so 
 odd in broad daylight.' 
 
 * It is kept lighted in memory of a young girl who 
 died a hundred and fifty years ago, and whose 
 brothers left money to keep it always burning in 
 her honour. Isn't that a charming story ? I'm 
 afraid my brothers will never do that for me ! nor 
 any one else either,' she added looking archly up 
 at Mr Stuart, as he came up to them. 
 
 * I don't quite see the good of it — I own ! ' he said. 
 ' Now, if they had paid for the care of some poor 
 children, I think it would have been a great deal 
 better.' 
 
 *0h, you are so aggravatingly practical and 
 philanthropic exclaimed Fanny, shrugging her 
 shoulders. ' Ethel, just wait till you hear him and 
 mamma on some of their charitable hobby-horses.' 
 
 Ethel made no reply. The tone of the remark 
 grated upon her, and she felt as if it must grate on 
 Mr Stuart also, whose eyes she carefully refrained 
 from meeting. Then the sister who was attending 
 them came up to ask if they would like to see the 
 skull of Montcalm, which was preserved there in a 
 silver case, which Ethel hastened to decline with 
 thanks, and an inward shudder. 
 
 The Basilica was a little disappointing after 
 foreign cathedrals, especially as the white and gold 
 of the interior seemed scarcely in harmony with 
 the rugged massiveness of the exterior. But it was 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE 105 
 
 
 interesting, as Mr Stuart remarked, to remember 
 that the original rude church on the same spot had 
 shared the fortunes of the little colony from its 
 earliest infancy and through all its struggles ; and 
 that the poor harassed colonists used to assemble 
 there, when threatened with destruction from Indian 
 or British invasions, to pray for deliverance, or to 
 give ' humble and hearty thanks ' for timely succour 
 in the hour of extremity. She felt that a place so 
 long associated with the religious life and deepest 
 feeling of a community should be counted a sacred 
 place, in which Mr Stuart fully concurred, though 
 Mrs Lyle shook her head a little at such a ' toleration 
 of idolatry.' 
 
 'I fancy, after all, there are few churches in 
 which some idolatry is not tolerated, my dear Mrs 
 Lyle. It is only a question of degree.' 
 
 ' I fear,' said Mr Lyle, ' there is too much of tliat 
 in human nature, and there is a good deal of human 
 nature in our churches, as well as elsewhere.* 
 
 By the time they had reached the terrace the 
 grey morning had brightened considerably. As 
 they crossed the ' Ring * by the Governor's garden, 
 as the shady enclosure behind the terrace is called, 
 Mr Stuart pointed it out as the scene of many a 
 ' pow-wow,' or council with the Indians in the old 
 fighting days, and a temporary place of shelter for 
 the remnant of the persecuted Huron tribes when 
 tleeing from their relentless Iroquois foes. On the 
 
io6 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 i 
 
 terrace they halted with a general ^exclamation of 
 delight. The soft mists were drifting away into 
 fleecy clouds, leaving open patches of clear blue sky, 
 and exquisite glimpses of blue and purple moun- 
 tains, and nearer wooded hills dotted with white 
 villages, and sloping down to a broad level stretch 
 of fields and farms, through which, like a blue 
 ribbon, the St Charles wound its way to join its 
 great ally, the St Lawrence. Just below them, 
 beyond the dingy old houses and narrow streets of 
 the old town, lay the broad river, studded with 
 steamers and sailing crafts of all sorts and sizes, 
 sweeping eastward in a double channel, divided by 
 the purple isle of Orleans, while, just opposite rose 
 the wooded heights of L6vis, dotted with forts and 
 convent, and with the busy dock and village Ij'ing 
 at their feet. The English strangers looked down, 
 with mudh interest, on the tall narrow houses and 
 the close streets and alleys lying so directly below 
 the terrace-railing, that one could drop a sione into 
 the little market-place below, near which Cham- 
 plain built his first log cabin, with its enclosing 
 palisades, still surviving in the quaint drawings 
 from his busy pen. 
 
 With the help of Mr Stuart's rendering of the 
 historical associations, these old places seemed to be, 
 in Ethel's eyes, alive with the picturesque and 
 romantic history of the past centuries. Fanny 
 Aylmer soon seemed tired of the 'antiquarian talk,' 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE 107 
 
 as she termed it ; and ensconced herself in one of the 
 little kiosqiiea, with Kavanagh and her two 
 brothers; who \^d joined them on the terrace, all 
 four being soon quite absorbed in a series of playful 
 altercations, interspersed wiih observations on the 
 various passers-by. They had found the two boys 
 Harry and Teddy waiting for them on the terrace, 
 and these had naturally joined the more lively 
 portion of the party, towards which Mrs Aylmer 
 was constantly gravitating, with gentle maternal 
 injunctions not to be quite so noisy. 
 
 Tiiey must not tarry too long on the terrace, 
 liowever, as they had further heights to scale. 
 The whole party stowed themselves away in 
 two carriages, dividing as evenly as possible. Mr 
 Stuart smilingly motioned to Funny to share his 
 seat beside the driver, in the larger of the two, but 
 she declared that would be too stupid, that it was 
 much better that he should pair off with Miss 
 Howard, and Mr Kavanagh should accompany her 
 in the other carriage. Fanny generally had her 
 own way with everyone, and Mr Stuart at once 
 accepted the arrangement, with a courteous invita- 
 tion to Miss Howard, whose observant eyes, how- 
 ever, marked a slight expression of annoyance on 
 his face which she had never seen there before. 
 She felt somewhat uncomfortable at beinor thus as 
 it were, forced on a companion who must be 
 wishing for the one he preferred, but she tried to 
 
io8 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 
 
 make the best of the situation by an effort to talk 
 more than was usual with her. There was not 
 much time, however, for any such efforts, as they 
 had soon reached the top of the winding road, and 
 were set down at the massive gate of the Citadel, 
 in order to make the regulatioi. tour of the walls, 
 attended by a soldier-guide. If the view from the 
 terrace had been enchanting, that from the bastions 
 of the Citadel exhausted all their available vocabu- 
 lary of admiration. Although the July sun poured 
 down on them the full intensity of its noon-day 
 heat, they could scarcely tear themselves from con- 
 templating the wide panorama of mountain vista 
 and sweeping river, pastoral country and woodland, 
 clustering villages and gleaming spires, with the old 
 grey city, its walls and gates, at their feet. 
 
 * Oh,' said Miss Howard to her aunt, * I never 
 imagined anything so grandly beautiful when I 
 thought of Canada ! ' 
 
 Mrs Aylraer smiled contentedly. * Yes, my dear, 
 there is no lack of that here, as I have often told 
 the people at home, though they never seemed to 
 take it in. When I first married Mr Aylmer, who 
 was then only a poor young lawyer, one would 
 have thought I was going to bury myself in the 
 wilds of Africa, judging by the compassion that 
 was lavished upon me ! But, as I have told you, 
 I have been very happy here. No woman could 
 ask to be happier ! ' and her eye wandered lovingly 
 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 109 
 
 to her own trio whom Mr Stuart had now joined, 
 making, as Miss Howard fancied, some not very 
 effectual efforts to detach Fanny from Eavanagh 
 and secure a little of her attention for himself. 
 
 • I'm afraid dear, you've lost your devoted 
 admirer ! ' whispered Mrs Lyle, in an aside, as they 
 separated to take their places in their respective 
 carriages, Mr Lyle accompanying Mrs Aylmer with 
 Ethel and Mr Stuart. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 It was a tired but very animated little party that 
 sat down in the cool hotel dining-room, to enjoy a 
 luncheon which the morning expedition had pre- 
 pared them thoroughly to appreciate. Ethel, who 
 was by no means strong yet, looked so pale and 
 fatigued, that her aunt insisted on her going to lie 
 down immediately after luncheon, and sat beside 
 her for a while, talking about her youngest girl 
 Carrie, who had been left at Murray Bay with a 
 friend of Fanny's, who was visiting them. 
 
 * I think you will find Carrie almost more com- 
 panionable that Fanny,' she said, ' thoagh Fanny is 
 a dear, sweet child. But she never cared much for 
 books or work, she is too active for that. Now 
 Carrie is quite another sort of child, such a quiet, 
 thoughtful little creature, much more like you. 
 I have sometimes wished, for Mr Stuart's sake, 
 that Carrie had been Fanny. Only then, perhaps, 
 he might not have fallen in Jove with her. But I 
 fancy Fanny tries him a little sometimes, though 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE iii 
 
 ore corn- 
 
 she doesn't mean it She is so young and full of 
 life, that she really does not yet understand a mono- 
 polising affection. She treats Mr Stuart just like a 
 big brother, as she used to regard him, before she 
 had any idea of anything more. Sometimes I think 
 she has much of that feeling for him still.' 
 
 Mrs Aylmer, like Fanny, seldom demanded a 
 reply, so that Ethel did not feel called upon to say 
 what she thought; which was, that this would 
 scarcely cont<>nt Mr Stuart. 
 
 The afternoon drive was deferred till four o'clock, 
 so that the heat might not be too oppressive. They 
 were to have 'high tea' at the inn near Mont- 
 morency Falls, and return in the cool evening 
 moonlight. 
 
 This time Mr Stuart did not again ask Fanny to 
 be his companion, but allowed the morning's 
 arrangement to stand unchanged, neither she nor 
 Kavanagh ^seeming in the least tired of it. They 
 first drove down the beautiful St Louis Road to 
 Sillery, descending there to the pretty cove just 
 under high overhanging wooded banks, where, 
 behind the wharf, covered with lumber piles, lies a 
 tiny picturesque French hamlet, and where Mr 
 Stuart pointed out to Ethel a little grey weather 
 worn cottage under an overshadowing elm, from 
 the boughs of which hung a board with the inscrip- 
 tion, — * em'pldceraent du premier couvent des re- 
 ligieibsea hospitaZienea* There, he told her, the 
 
 m 
 
Ml" 
 
 
 112 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 
 
 hospital nuns had their first abode on their arrival 
 in the country, preferring it to the site given to 
 them at the settlement in Quebec. 
 
 ' They came out here,' he continued, ' after their 
 grand reception by the Governor, and when they 
 arrived at the little mission established by Noel 
 Sillery, Knight of Malta, after whom it was named, 
 they knelt down and thanked God for having 
 brought them to the goal of their desires. Nay, 
 more, they kissed QWQvy little Indian girl they met, 
 without caring, as the old Jesuit relation says, 
 whether the child's face had been washed or not.' 
 
 *It seems to me wonderful,* said Ethel, ' that they 
 could feel so ( uthusiastic about those poor Indians.' 
 
 * My dear Miss Howard, don't you know that it 
 isn't the value of the object that determines the 
 amount of the enthusiasm, but the nature of the 
 enthusiast ? True love never calculates the precise 
 value of the object. Don't you know we " love be- 
 cause we must ?" It is part of our best nature, the 
 most divine ! Some poet has said that love ceases 
 to be love when it demands a reason.* 
 
 ' Most true,' said Mr Lyle, drily. ' That is the 
 secret of a good many marriages ! and it's a main- 
 spring of success, too, in Christian work,' he added,' 
 more seriously. 
 
 ' Yes, I'm sure it is true,* said Ethel, thoughtfully 
 She felt it had been in a measure true of her own 
 love for Edgar Fane, still living on after she had 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 113 
 
 been forced to feel his lack of worthiness. And no 
 doubt that was why Mr Stuart loved her cousin, as 
 she thought she could see, so much more than 
 Fanny seemed to love him. 
 
 ' And there/ said Mr Stuart as they drove on a 
 little farther, and watched an enclosure shaded by 
 a spreading Canadian maple, ' there is the tomb of 
 the first French missionary who was buried in 
 Canadian soil, a loving, humble, useful brother, 
 always ready for anything and everything, from 
 reading mass to tending pigs. Nothing was be- 
 neath him, nothing exhausted his loving patience. 
 He well deserved this honour paid to his memory. 
 
 'Amen!' said Mr Lyle; 'let us be thankful for 
 such men anywhere, in any Church.' 
 
 Then Mr Stuart pointed out the ancient-looking 
 two-story house, now stuccoed over, which was the 
 original Jesuit residence, and is now the most 
 ancient house standing, with one exception, in 
 North America. 
 
 As they returned to the city, they turned aside, 
 on the Heights of Abraham, to look at the battered, 
 weather-worn monument, dedicated to the memory 
 of Wolfe, and the victory by which he won for 
 Britain one of the greatest prizes ever contested by 
 two great nations. Kavanagh and Mr Stuart be- 
 tween them described the position of the two armies 
 on that eventful 13th of September, pointing out 
 
 the rough pass still retaining the name of Wolfe's 
 
 H 
 
mr 
 
 ill 
 
 114 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 
 
 cove, by which the English hero and his men 
 scrambled up the steep Heights among the brush- 
 wood, and won the victory by sheer force of the 
 pluck and determination which startled into panic 
 the bewildered and harassed French troops. 
 
 • Well,' said Ethel, • I do think, after such a 
 wonderful exploit, and one which won for us such 
 a great country, Wolfe surely deserves something 
 more from Britain than that miserable little pillar ! ' 
 
 ' I fancy he would have cared little about a 
 fine monument,' said Mr Stuart. ' If I read his 
 character right, he would be satisfied with his 
 success in doing good work ; and, next to that, he 
 would care more to live in the heart of the country 
 he had served so well.' 
 
 They re-entered the old city by the new St Louis 
 Gate, while Kavanagh inveighed again at its spick- 
 and-span newness, and the barbarism of removing 
 the ancient gates and walls — one of the few bits of 
 antiquity Canada had to show. They rattled over 
 the hard pavements, past the shops where Indian 
 wares and furs were temptingly displayed for the 
 benefit of tourists — through the St John's Gate, 
 which, at least, was old; and then, across Dor- 
 chester bridge, over the St Charles. As they passed 
 across, Mr Stuart, as in duty bound, pointed out the 
 precise spot where Cartier laid up his ships, and 
 where he wintered amid the solitude and desolation 
 of an Alpine landscape — his ships sheeted in ice, in 
 
 ( 
 
7E 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 115 
 
 IS men 
 
 brush- 
 
 I of the 
 
 panic 
 
 such a 
 us such 
 mething 
 pillar ! ' 
 Ekbout a 
 read his 
 vith his 
 that, he 
 country 
 
 3t Louis 
 is spick- 
 emoving 
 
 V bits of 
 led over 
 J Indian 
 
 1 for the 
 I's Gate, 
 )ss Dor- 
 
 Y passed 
 I out the 
 ips, and 
 solation 
 n ice, in 
 
 < 
 
 what seemed to the new-comers almost Arctic cold ; 
 while the horrible scurvy carried off half of the ex- 
 plorers, and left the other half a weak and wretched 
 remnant. 
 
 From such dreary reminiscences of the past, it 
 was pleasant to turn away to take in the beauty of 
 their present surroundings, as they drove on between 
 meadows of emerald green, stretching down from 
 the wooded hills behind, to the blue St Lawrence on 
 their right, fringed with graceful elms and beeches; 
 while pretty old-fashioned country houses, dotted 
 here and there, might very well have done duty for 
 French chateaux. The road lay for some miles 
 along the village street of Beauport, which followed 
 the course of the river in a long straggling line, after 
 the fashion of French Canadian villages in general. 
 The English visitors were enchanted by the steep- 
 roofed little houses, painted in gay and varying 
 colours, succeeding each other for several miles, with 
 their long garden-like strips of farm extending down 
 to the river on one side of the road, and upwards 
 to the hills on the other. The tiny front gardens 
 were gay with larkspurs, sweet-peas, marigolds, and 
 other bright flowers, and trim dark-eyed French 
 girls sat at the open doors and on the small front 
 balconies, with their sewing or knitting. Nearly 
 half way down the long street stood the big stone 
 church, like the guardian of the village, sending the 
 gleam of its bright spire many miles away. 
 
ii6 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT ORANGE 
 
 As the straggling cottages ceased, the scenery 
 grew wilder, and soon they rattled over a wooden 
 bridge beneath which the cold brown stream of the 
 Montmorency brawled foaming, over dark rocky 
 lodges, like a true mountain torrent. 
 
 At the little inn where the carriage road ended, 
 they left the carriages, giving orders for a 
 substantial tea to be ready against their return, 
 and, passing through a gate, followed the footpath 
 across the fields to the high river bank opposite 
 the falls, where they came into view of the white 
 rush of a magnificent cataract, thundering in an 
 avalanche of snowy foam down from its giddy 
 height, crowned by dark pine-woods which, by the 
 contrast of their deep sombre green, intensified the 
 glittering whiteness of the sheet of falling water in 
 clouds of ethereal spray. Some slender attendant 
 cascades strayed over the dark precipice beyond 
 the central fall, one of them lying as it were, in 
 exquisite threaded braids of silver among the 
 jagged ledges of the dark brown precipice. 
 
 A long and somewhat dizzy wooden stair de- 
 scended in zig-zag the steep face of the cliff on 
 which they stood, presenting the best view of the 
 cataract from different points. Fanny and her 
 brothers, with Kavanagh, who, of course kd the 
 way, had descended a long steep stair and were 
 rambling among the damp brown rocks at the 
 bottom, almost before the others had left the top. 
 
7E 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIHMOVNT GRANGE 117 
 
 scenery 
 wooden 
 n of the 
 : rocky 
 
 i ended, 
 
 for a 
 
 return, 
 
 'ootpath 
 
 spposite 
 
 e white 
 
 (y in an 
 
 s giddy 
 
 , by the 
 
 Ified the 
 
 vater in 
 
 tendant 
 
 beyond 
 
 irere, in 
 
 ng the 
 
 bair de- 
 jliff on 
 of the 
 idd her 
 lod the 
 were 
 I at the 
 Ihe top. 
 
 Mr and Mrs Lyle followed their example, at a more 
 leisurely pace, but as Mrs Aylmer naturally did not 
 care to ' march down the hill and then march up 
 again,' Ethel, who rather dreaded the dizzy descent, 
 willingly remained with her aunt at the foot of the 
 first zig-zag. Mr Stuart accompanied the Lyles to 
 the foot of the precipice, and then, seeing that 
 Fanny was far in advance and too much en- 
 grossed with her present attendant even to look 
 back, he soon returned to the place where Mrs 
 Aylmer and Miss Howard were wr iting. 
 
 ' It's pleasant, sometimes,* he said, after they had 
 sat for a time in silence, ' to lose all definite thou^^ht, 
 and even self -consciousness, in a roar and rush like 
 that; 
 
 'Oh, do you feel it so?' Ethel said. 'I didn't 
 know other people felt like that. I supposed it 
 belonged to my own lazy dreaminess. Do you 
 know Mr Stuart, my life in England seems to me 
 almost like one long dream, now. I wonder if I am 
 just beginning to wake ! ' 
 
 ' That was how I felt after I came out here,* said 
 Mrs Aylmer, smiling. ' But I fancy most young 
 girls who have lived sheltered lives are apt to live 
 more in dreams than in anything else ! When a 
 girl marries a busy man, as I did, it wakes her up 
 efiectually. And that reminds me that I got a 
 letter from my husband just as we started, which I 
 will read now, if you will excuse me.* 
 
ii8 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 Her companions seemed both indisposed to talk, 
 and there was another silence, during which Ethel 
 felt as if the continuous lullaby of the cataract's 
 roar was soothing her to sleep. Suddenly, a stray 
 association crossed her mind, and she asked Mr 
 Stuart if the little inn they had stopped at was 
 not the one described in Mr Howell's pretty story, 
 'A Chance Acquaintance,* which Mr Stuart had 
 lent her on shipboard, and which had greatly con- 
 duced to her intelligent enjoyment of Quebec. 
 
 ' Yes,' he said, ' that's the identical inn.' 
 
 ' I wonder whether Kitty was right ? ' she said, 
 reflectively. * I can't quite make up my mind.' 
 
 ' What ? In breaking with her lover because she 
 had found out his weakness. No, I can't think so, 
 not, at least, if she really loved him. As I said to- 
 day, I don't believe in any so-called love, unless it 
 can love on, " for better for worse," patiently 
 " bearing all things," and looking for the coming 
 good in which it believes. No, it seems to me that 
 she should have had patience, if her love had been 
 true, helping her lover to overcome a false strain, a 
 weakness, and grow into a truer and nobler life. 
 It was almost as bad in her to throw him off 
 finally, because of his failure in true knighthood, as 
 it was in hiTri to be ashamed of her because her 
 home-made dress failed to come up to the require- 
 ments of his fashionable friends. I'm afraid there 
 was a good deal of personal pride on both sides ! ' 
 
 i 
 
VE 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE 119 
 
 to talk, 
 :h Ethel 
 itaract's 
 a stray 
 ked Mr 
 at was 
 y story, 
 art had 
 tly con- 
 ec. 
 
 he said, 
 ind.' 
 a,use she 
 bink so, 
 said to- 
 illess it 
 atiently 
 coming 
 me that 
 id been 
 itrain, a 
 ler life, 
 lim off 
 lood, as 
 use her 
 •equire- 
 d there 
 des 1 ' 
 
 
 fi 
 
 * But then, if he was like thaty Kitty felt he 
 could never be anything else.* 
 
 'Which was a quite unwarrantable assumption. 
 We scarcely appreciate how much "a long com- 
 munion tends to make us what we are." I have 
 great faith in the power of a steady, patient love, 
 to gradually mould any character for good. That 
 is, if there is love on both sides.' 
 
 Again there was silence. Ethel was thinking of 
 Edgar Fane, and wondering whether she had been 
 right in trying to banish him from her thoughts 
 and heart. But then, what good would it have 
 done? She felt sure now, that his, at least, had 
 been no true love. 
 
 But the evening shadows were lengthening. 
 The sunset light was fading out of the sky, and 
 the torrent showed pale .and spectral in the light of 
 the rising moon. Mrs Avlmer declared it was more 
 than time they were starting for the inn, and Mr 
 Stuart, at her request, called in the stragglers to 
 return to the ranks, and begin the return march. 
 Fanny came up, looking flushed and excited, with 
 a long rent in her dress, which she stayed behind to 
 pin up for the time. Mr Stuart remained with her, 
 while Kavanagh walked on with Miss Howard, 
 apparently anxious to atone a little for his bare- 
 faced desertion of her. 
 
 Fanny completed her temporary repairs, hum- 
 ming a lively air as she did so, while Mr Stuart 
 
I20 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 stood silently by till she was ready, and then they 
 walked on together. 
 
 ' Norman,' sho said, looking up at last, as if his 
 grave, quiet manner had suddenly impressed her, 
 ' what's the matter ? You do look awfully bored ! 
 And I've scarcely seen you to-day ! ' 
 
 ' Whose fault is that, Fanny ? ' he asked, re- 
 proachfully. 
 
 She calmly ignored the remark. 
 
 ' Do you know, I think your cousin is delightful. I 
 wish he were not going so soon ! Don't you think he 
 might stay for a few days with us at Murray Bay ? ' 
 
 ' He can do as he likes,' replied Mr Stuart, dryly. 
 ' I should think he would wish to join his ovn 
 family as soon as possible. He has been away a 
 long time, and his mother, who is an invalid, will be 
 impatient to see him.' 
 
 ' Well, it wouldn't do her any great harm to wait 
 just a little longer, and he would be such an ac- 
 quisition to us there, in the way of expeditions, and so 
 on; especially as we want to show Ethel all the lions.' 
 
 Mr Stuart made no reply. The rest of the party 
 had by this time reached the inn. He gently 
 detained Fanny a moment, under the screen of some 
 thick tangled shrubbery, and drawing her to him 
 he said, 
 
 ' Do you know, dear, sometimes I almost think 
 you don't love me at all.' 
 
 ' Now don't be silly, there's a dear. You know 
 
 i! 
 
YGE 
 
 hen they 
 
 as if his 
 sssed her, 
 ly bored ! 
 
 sked, re- 
 
 ghtful. I 
 think he 
 ly Bay ? ' 
 rt, dryly, 
 his ov'!i 
 L away a 
 i, will be 
 
 to wait 
 1 an ac- 
 ts, and so 
 he lions.' 
 le party 
 
 gently 
 of some 
 
 to him 
 
 it think 
 know 
 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIHMOUNT GRANGE 121 
 
 you promised me never to be silly or jealous, or 
 anything tiresome.* 
 
 As she spoke she looked at him with the half- 
 appealing, half-pouting look that always conquered 
 his disapproval of her caprices, and the implied 
 reproach ended after the orthodox fashion of lovers 
 quarrels in general, with one of those sudden im- 
 pulsive demonstrations of Fanny's which always 
 seemed to her lover to * hide a multitude of sins.* 
 
 * I'll drive home with you to-night,' she whispered, 
 winningly. ' You can ask your cousin to exchange 
 with you.' 
 
 The exchange was effected, Kavanagh acquiescing 
 with apparent readiness. Possibly he wished to 
 make up for his past neglect of Miss Howard. 
 Possibly there might have been another reason. 
 
 The ' high tea ' which was awaiting the party 
 was warmly appreciated. The delicious salmon, 
 the home-made bread and butter, the wild rasp- 
 berries and cream, called forth many commenda- 
 tions, and received full attention. But even the 
 pleasantest excitement has its penalty of fatigue, 
 and as they drove home in the silvery moonlight 
 that flooded the picturesque landscape, and showed 
 the distant hills like the ' baseless fabric of a vision,' 
 there was little disposition to talk. Even the irre- 
 pressible Kavanagh was comparatively silent, while 
 at least half of the party were almost asleep before 
 they reached the hotel. 
 
w 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 By eight o'clock next morning, the party of the 
 day before was finally broken up. Ethel, with the 
 Aylmers, as well as Stuart and Kavanagh, was on 
 board the Saguenay steamer: and Mr and Mrs 
 Lyle had taken the early train for the West. 
 Ethel had promised to visit her friend, later in the 
 year, and in the meantime to write often. 
 
 * And look after your cousin, my dear,' said Mrs 
 Lyle. ' It will be too bad, if that reckless Kavanagh 
 tries to cut out Mr Stuart.' 
 
 ' Oh, he would never be so dishonourable ! ' 
 
 ' Not intentionally, I am sure, but people never 
 know what they may drift into, when they go in 
 for a reckless flirtation ! * 
 
 Fanny, at all events, did not seem to have derived 
 any harm from hers — if it was one — in so far as 
 that day's experience showed. She was as bright 
 and good-humoured as could be, exemplary to her 
 lover, most kind to Ethel, and perhaps just a shade 
 cool to Kavanagh, who alone seemed at times a 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 123 
 
 '• of the 
 vith the 
 , was on 
 nd Mrs 
 3 West. 
 r in the 
 
 aid Mrs 
 ivanagh 
 
 e never 
 ygo in 
 
 derived 
 
 far as 
 
 bright 
 
 to her 
 
 shade 
 
 imes a 
 
 
 
 trifle depressed; though at others, his spirits 
 seemed positively wild. The day was another 
 succession of glorious pictures. Ethel intensely 
 enjoyed this second view of the grand phalanx of 
 wooded hills, always noting, with Mr Stuart and 
 Kavanagh, some feature which had especially 
 attracted their attention on the upward cruiset 
 This time they passed much nearer the bold north 
 shore, landing passengers at the high wooden piers 
 on the way, built to suit the variations of the tide. 
 Some of the lighthouses they touched at looked 
 intensely lonely, with nothing in sight but wild 
 wooded uplands, and the stretch of sparkling water 
 over which white gulls were circling on the watch 
 for their prey. Fanny and the boys amused them- 
 selves by tossing them fragments of biscuit, which 
 the birds seemed able to detect a quarter of a mile 
 off — swooping down upon them from afar with 
 unerring precision. Kavanagh quoted the ' Ancient 
 Mariner ' ; and he, with Mr Stuart and Ethel, got 
 into one of their three-cornered discussions as to 
 the real meaning of the poem. The other tourists 
 on board also came in for a little of the same 
 attention that Kavanagh had given to their fellow- 
 passengers at sea. Among them were some French 
 ecclesiastics and religiev^ea in the quaint robes of 
 their order, who were especially interesting to 
 Ethel, after all the stories she had been hearing of 
 the devotion of their predecessors. There were, of 
 
M- 
 
 124 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 
 
 course, the usual number of English tourist3, and 
 Ethel had not yet got over the unreasonable ex- 
 pectation of looking for some familiar face among 
 all the unfamiliar ones ; and occasionally was con- 
 scious of an involuntary start, as a chance resem- 
 blance in some young Englishman vividly recalled 
 Edgar Fane. 
 
 As they neared the pier at Murray Bay, the boys 
 prepared to disembark, while Mrs Aylmer and 
 Fanny eagerly scanned the little crowd of summer 
 visitors that always comes down to meet the 
 steamer. 
 
 'There's Carrie! and Milly!' exclaimed Fanny, 
 waving her handkerchief; while Mrs Aylmer put 
 up her opera-glass to have a better view of her 
 younger daughter. As they came nearer, Ethel 
 caught the shy eager glance of a girl of sixteen, — 
 not nearly so pretty as Fanny, but as her mother 
 had said, with a much more thoughtful expression. 
 Standing beside her was a very small neat and 
 slender figure, who, Fanny said, was her greatest 
 friend, Miliy Bruce. * She and I have been school- 
 mates for years,* she said, ' and she stays with us 
 here every summer.' 
 
 There was a short and animated colloquy with 
 i! -^ girls on the pier, standing almost on a level 
 vvitii the deck, while the boys landed with much 
 
 .ving of hats, and a warm welcome from the two 
 girls, as the steamer moved away. *We shall be 
 
9E 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 125 
 
 ist3, and 
 able ex- 
 I among 
 vas con- 
 ) resem- 
 recalled 
 
 ihe boys 
 ner and 
 summer 
 leet the 
 
 Fanny, 
 
 mer put 
 
 7 of her 
 
 r, Ethel 
 
 steen, — 
 
 mother 
 
 jression. 
 
 eat and 
 
 reatest 
 
 school- 
 
 vith us 
 
 y with 
 a level 
 
 much 
 he two 
 
 all be 
 
 ■morrow nij^t 
 
 
 if the tide is favourable/ 
 said Mrs Aylmer. ' Have a good supper ready for 
 us!' 
 
 The girls nodded, and waved a farewell ; and the 
 steamer was soon under weigh again. Mrs Aylmer 
 pointing out to Ethel the curiously shaped rock, 
 tufted with pine and cedar, that rose near the pier, 
 and gave the name of Point-au-Pic to the long 
 village behind it. They watched the little group 
 walking lightly up the winding road, in the direc- 
 tion of Mrs Aylmer's cottage, till they could no 
 longer distinguish them, and then Ethel's eye once 
 more turned with a sort of fascination to the grand 
 masses of purple hills, — rising, range behind range, 
 to north and west. She had never been much 
 among hills, and these gave her intense delight. 
 
 ' I think, yes, I think I would rather have the St 
 Lawrence than the Rhine, take it for all in all ! * 
 said Kavanagh, who seemed to have become again 
 the Kavanagh of shipboard. ' And do you notice the 
 sky, Miss Howard ? " So clear, so blue, so largely 
 vaulted," as Matthew Arnold quotes from Maurice 
 De Gu^rin, in that beautiful essay you were reading 
 at sea.' 
 
 'Yes,' said Miss Howard. 'That just expresses 
 what I have been feeling about the difference 
 between this Canadian sky and our English one. 
 It is so much more " largely vaulted." ' 
 
 ' Yes, you'll find we have many good things in 
 
126 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 Canada,' replied Kavanagh, ' by-and-bye you'll 
 find you wouldn't care to go back ! ' Miss Howard 
 smiled incredulously. It did not seem likely that 
 Canada could ever till the place in her heart 
 possessed by her dear old England. As they neared 
 the long bare spit of land on which stands the pier 
 of Rivihe-du-Louv, Miss Howard noticed a curious 
 range of isolated rocks standing out in the river 
 near the south shore. 
 
 ' They are called Zes PUerina^ I suppose from 
 their resemblance to a procession of pilgrims. 
 They have very curious mirage effects as seen from 
 Murray Bay,' said Mr Stuart. 
 
 But the tea-bell rang, and every one was ready to 
 go down, for the savoury odour of trout and salmon 
 which came up from the saloon below, was par- 
 ticularly grateful to appetites sharpened by the 
 bracing air. When they came on deck again, they 
 found they had left RivUre-du-Loup far behind, 
 with its attendant sea-side village of Cacouna, and 
 were again crossing the river to Tadoussac. The 
 setting sun was shedding a golden glory across the 
 broad stream, and soon exquisite hues of amber and 
 rose and purple were suflfusing sky and river and 
 distant hills. It seemed a transfiguration of the 
 scene, and Ethel sat silently enraptured by the 
 charm of its wonderful beauty. Kavanagh had 
 produced his pocket Shelley, and was quoting his 
 
 < 
 
JGE 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 127 
 
 e you'll 
 Howard 
 cely that 
 er heart 
 sy neared 
 I the pier 
 a curious 
 the river 
 
 ose from 
 pilgrims, 
 een from 
 
 I ready to 
 d salmon 
 as par- 
 by the 
 lin, they 
 behind, 
 |una, and 
 .c. The 
 ;ross the 
 iber and 
 Lver and 
 of the 
 by the 
 igh had 
 iting his 
 
 favourite sunset description from 'Julian and 
 Maddalo/ of which he said it reminded him. 
 
 'Indeed, it reminds ine of Venetian sunsets by 
 Turner,' said Ethel, ' such as I have seen in the 
 National Gallery, that made me cease to wonder at 
 Ruskin's raptures over him, even though I could 
 hardly believe them quite real.' 
 
 From which they drifted into a discussion on 
 Rusk in, about whom they never could all agree, 
 while Fanny, getting tired of talk that was out of 
 her line, strayed into the saloon and began to play 
 over some French-Canadian airs. By-and-bye 
 Kavanagh went off to join her, and his melodious 
 tenor voice was soon heard accompanying the piano 
 in the simple and lively songs, '-4 la Claire Fontaine* 
 ' En roulant ma houle,'' and other stirring choruses, 
 while the others sat silently listening to the music 
 and watching the distant lights of Tadoussac 
 beginning to gleam out brightly through the grow- 
 ing dusk. 
 
 The moon had not risen when they reached the 
 pier in its shadowy rocky recess. Mr Stuart pro- 
 posed that while the boat lay at the pier, they 
 should walk across the wooden bridge that looked 
 'Tyrolean,' as Kavanagh said, in its rude sim- 
 plicity, to see the oldest church in North America. 
 They could just see its rude, simple outline, and Mr 
 Stuart told them how it had been first built by the 
 earliest fur-traders, and how closely it had been 
 
 iil 
 
128 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 
 
 associated with the rude life of Indian and white 
 trappers and hunters along the dark and mysterious 
 Saguenay. Dark and mysterious, indeed, it looked, 
 as they left the lights of Tadoussnc behind, and saw 
 the great, dark, shadowy curves of the steep hills 
 close in about them on both sides, while there 
 seemed to breathe from them a mountain air, 
 descending from the cold north towards which they 
 were voyaging. It seemed to Ethel a poem or a 
 dream materialised, and she was almost sorry when 
 a late rising moon dispersed some of the mystery 
 by revealing the rough weather-scarred rocks, 
 partially clothed with the stunted tempest-twisted 
 firs and birches, which heightened their air of 
 rugged savagery. 
 
 ' It will be twelve o'clock before we pass Cape 
 Eternity and Cape Trinity, but it is worth while to 
 sit up all night for the sake of seeing them by 
 moonlight,' said Mr Stuart. 
 
 All but Mrs Aylmer were of the same mind, and 
 she good-naturedly said she would lie down on the 
 sofa and sleep, till they called her in time to get a 
 sight of the grand precipices, which she had seen 
 several times already, but never by moonlight. 
 
 It seemed as if they were watching a magical 
 panorama unfold before them, as the passage of 
 point after point opened up endless variations on 
 the same theme of wild wooded hills, bold, bare 
 crags, and silent shadowy streams. Cooler and 
 
 I 
 
E 
 
 TUE IIEin OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 129 
 
 white 
 terious 
 looked, 
 nd saw 
 »p hills 
 J there 
 dn air, 
 eh they 
 irn or a 
 y when 
 iiystery 
 
 rocks, 
 twisted 
 
 air of 
 
 ss Cape 
 
 while to 
 
 em by 
 
 |nd, and 
 on the 
 bo 2ret a 
 id seen 
 rht. 
 
 nagical 
 jage of 
 Ions on 
 bare 
 ler and 
 
 cooler grew tlie night air, seeming at once an 
 anodyne and a stimulant. The little party scarcely 
 cared to talk, even Fanny seeming for the time 
 subdued into silence. 
 
 'There's Cape Eternity looming up now/ she 
 said, as they rounded a point and saw a great 
 shadowy mass some distance beyond them. ' I'll 
 iro and call mamma.' 
 
 Ethel almost held her breath, oppressed with 
 overpowering awe, as they approached the mighty 
 pile of grey weather-beaten granite that seemed to 
 tower sheer above them to the skies, the nearer one 
 partially clothed with a scanty vegetation. It 
 seemed like the menacing presence of some mighty 
 force that might at any moment break its invisible 
 bounds, and crush them to atoms. Cape Trinity 
 was, however, the more picturesque and impressive, 
 with its massive triple tiers of scarred and 
 splintered granite, lifting its bare time-worn brow 
 to so dizzy a height that it wearied the eye to 
 follow it to the summit. So illusory was the 
 effect of its mighty mass in altering apparent 
 proportions, that it seemed impossible to believe 
 their own distance from the rocky wall so great, 
 that a small stone, thrown by Mr Stuart with his 
 utmost force, fell far short of it. With the moon- 
 light silvering its summit, while its base and the 
 dark river below lay in deepest shadow, the sub- 
 limity of the scene was intensified to the highest 
 
I30 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 i^ 
 
 point. It was a picture, as Kavanagh said, to be 
 engraved on one's memory as ' an awe for ever.* 
 
 ' It seems to me,' added Mr Stuart, ' that the very 
 fact, that such commonplace material as a mass of 
 great stone can produce such a feeling of awe in 
 our minds, shows in itself our own affinity with 
 that Infinite Power of which this seems an inade- 
 quate symbol. The source of the awe is really in 
 our own kinship, which transcends our mental 
 powers to grasp, whether it appears in the immen- 
 sity of the starry heavens, or the imperative of the 
 " Ought " — the two things that most impressed the 
 soul of Kant.' 
 
 * Yes,' said Ethel, * I believe all one's best thoughts 
 come without our being able to tell whence or why.' 
 
 ' And then, when we l:)egin to reason about them, 
 they are gone,' said Mr Stuart, smiling. 
 
 'Let us then say no more, but behold in silence!' 
 said Kavanagh, oracularly ; and indeed, little more 
 was said till they had left the triple curve of Cape 
 Trinity, and the dark mass of Cape Eternity far 
 behind, and then reluctantly turned in to sleep. As 
 Ethel entered the cabin below, on which the ladies' 
 staterooms opened, she was almost startled to see 
 the sofas covered by the black-robed forms of 
 recumbent nuns, en route for the large convent of 
 Chicoutimi, at the head of the navigable portion of 
 the river. The sunrise next morning awakened 
 Ethel to find that the steamer was no longer in 
 
 III 
 
NGE 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 131 
 
 lid, to be 
 
 ever* 
 
 the very 
 a mass of 
 )f awe ill 
 lity with 
 an inade- 
 
 really in 
 r mental 
 3 immen- 
 ve of the 
 essed the 
 
 . thoughts 
 e or why.' 
 out them, 
 
 silence!' 
 
 Ittle more 
 
 of Cape 
 
 [rnity far 
 
 eep. As 
 
 le ladies' 
 
 id to see 
 
 :orms of 
 
 invent of 
 
 lortion of 
 
 weakened 
 
 )nger in 
 
 
 motion, and ns she came out of her stateroom to 
 take a look Ihrough the window, she found the 
 nuns already kneeling at their morning devotions. 
 Tlieir dark motionless figures seemed to her to be- 
 long to the past history of the region, rather than 
 to be real women like herself, and the religiexises 
 would have been surprised had they had any idea 
 of the romantic interest they inspired in the young 
 English lady, whom some of them perhaps regarded 
 with a little wistful envy. 
 
 The steamer was lying at the pier of Ha-ha Bay,* 
 in a recess of several miles in width, on the line of the 
 fiord, as the Saguenay may appropriately he called. 
 There the tide runs out so far that the steamer is 
 often stranded for hours, as happened to be the 
 case on that particular morning. The juniors of 
 the party set out for an early stroll up the rugged 
 hillside that rose from the bay, with a summer 
 hotel and a neat church perched on its slope. As 
 they came near the church — a large one for the size 
 of the village of bare brown wooden cottages below 
 — they found that early mass had already begun. 
 The ecclesiastics who had been their fellow- 
 passengers, one of the officers of the steamer, and 
 a few poor country folk composed the congregation. 
 Ethel wished to look in, and Mr Stuart offered to 
 accompany her, the other two preferring to extend 
 
 * So called, because here the first explorers found the first sound- 
 ings in this mountain fiord. 
 
132 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 their walk. The service was chanted in Latin, and 
 though the words were of course unintelligible, or 
 nearly so, Ethel felt the soothing influence of the 
 hushed quiet — the measured chanting, the devo- 
 tional attitudes of the worshippers, and the sacred 
 associations of the crucifix and pictures. It seemed, 
 as she said to herself, though too shy to say it 
 aloud, like a benison on the enjoyment of the bright 
 summer day, like a soul given to the hieroglyphics 
 of nature, otherwise so unsatisfying to the higher 
 being. 
 
 They came out of the church, and, joining the 
 others, they strolled down to the little straggling 
 brown village below, and held a brief colloquy with 
 a pleasant-faced young French mother, whose little 
 ones brought tiny canoes to sell to the strangers, 
 and who looked at Miss Howard with wonder when 
 she tried to make her understand that she had just 
 come across the great ocean. She told her, in a 
 broad patois, that Ethel could scarcely understand 
 that she was herself Men contente, in her mountain 
 home, though it was very cold in winter, and her 
 husband was absent all summer at his distant 
 employment. But then he was un hon gargon 
 and he and the children seemed to make up for 
 all disadvantages. 
 
 The thriving village of Chicoutimi, with its large 
 saw-mill, was the terminus of their sail. Beyond 
 that, Mr Stuart said, there were rapids with bits of 
 
VGE 
 
 itin, and 
 igible, or 
 e of the 
 he devo- 
 le sacred 
 b seeraed, 
 bo say it 
 tie bright 
 Dglyphics 
 le higher 
 
 ining the 
 traffglinj^r 
 
 no o 
 
 iqiiy with 
 
 lose little 
 
 trangers, 
 
 er when 
 
 had just 
 
 er, in a 
 
 derstand 
 
 ountain 
 
 and her 
 
 distant 
 
 gargon 
 
 up for 
 
 I its large 
 Beyond 
 Ih bits of 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 133 
 
 navigable stream, and picturesque lakes, but the 
 scenery was far from being so grand as that of the 
 fiord itself. They re-passed Cape Trinity with the 
 afternoon sunshine pouring down upon its hoary 
 brow as it had done for ages past, softening a little 
 the stern effect of its rugged grandeur, in which it 
 seemed to stand sentinel, like some stern Titanic 
 warder, over the dark imprisoned stream below. 
 Then there followed the savage succession of barren 
 crags and pine-crested hills, sometimes swept com- 
 pletely bare of vegetation by devastating fires 
 which had left serried ranks of gaunt skeletons, 
 where noble pines and graceful birch had risen to 
 meet the sun and wind. Sometimes the rocks 
 receded a little from the shore, leaving a few hill- 
 side farms or white villages nestling among the 
 ledges of the hills, each with its protecting church, 
 seeming to give a gentler effect of human habita- 
 tion. Yet the general character was that of savage 
 gloom, and perhaps every one shared to some extent 
 in Fanny's exclamation of relief, as they again 
 neared Tadoussac, which looked in daylight a shade 
 less picturesque than it had done in the dusky 
 twilight of the evening before, 
 
 'Thank goodness, we are getting out from all 
 these gloomy crags, and into our own St Lawrence 
 once more ! ' 
 
 Yet Ethel looked back on the rocky gateway of 
 the dark fiord, with a wistful feelinor of fascination 
 
 iill 
 
 iiili 
 
 m 
 
134 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 that would not relax its hold. She often in dreams 
 passed up that sombre shore again. 
 
 It was almost bewildering to step from their 
 steamer, with all the associations of the Saguenay 
 still clinging about it, into the noise and bustle 
 of the little crowd on the pier at Murray Bay; 
 and to be at once surrounded by the eager clamour 
 of the re-united family party. A primitive square 
 haycart carried up the luggage of the travellers ; 
 while Mrs Aylmer and Ethel were perched up on 
 one of the two-wheeled caleches in waiting — Fanny 
 and the young men walking home with the merry 
 group which had come to meet th^^m. Mrs Aylmer's 
 cottage was perhaps a mile from the pier on the 
 side of the hill-slope that rose from the bay, all 
 along its curve. It was a plain unpainted wooden 
 house, the wide verandah alone relieving its bare- 
 ness, a happy combination of bungalow and Swiss 
 chalet. The furniture was of the simplest descrip- 
 tion, but it looked homelike and comfortable, with 
 a little lire burning in the wide corner fireplace, 
 for the evening was cool ; and bright prints and 
 other simple ornaments on the wooden walls, and 
 pretty baskets of ferns and flowers, more than made 
 up for the simplicity of the furnishing. In front, 
 a little shrubbery, with a few flowers, seppi,rated it 
 from the road. Behind it a lawn-tennis ground lay 
 between it and the slope above, which rose 
 gradually into a thicket of spruce and cedar, the 
 
NGE 
 n dreams 
 
 om their 
 
 Saguenay 
 
 nd bustle 
 
 ray Bay; 
 
 : clamour 
 
 ve square 
 
 ravellers ; 
 
 ed up on 
 
 \ — Fanny 
 
 18 merry 
 
 Aylraer's 
 
 er on the 
 
 \ bay, all 
 
 I wooden 
 
 its bare- 
 
 nd Swiss 
 
 descrip- 
 
 ,ble, with 
 
 fireplace, 
 
 ints and 
 
 alls, and 
 
 an made 
 
 n front, 
 
 rated it 
 
 und lay 
 
 ch rose 
 
 idar, the 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 135 
 
 fragrance of which floated down on the fresh even- 
 inof breeze. 
 
 The neat and pleasant apartment which had been 
 assigned to Ethel was in front of the house, and 
 even in the fading evening light, she could see how 
 lovely was the view. Beyond the range of cottages 
 which lined the opposite side of the road, she looked 
 over a stretch of wet sands, left bare by the tide, 
 across the blue stream of the Murray, to a bold ridge 
 of promontory whose steep sides rose, darkly wooded, 
 from the ocean-like St Lawrence, the farther shore 
 of which was faintly discernible, some twenty 
 miles away. Looking on to her left, her eye fol- 
 lowed the valley of the Murray, nestling among 
 the purple hills. It seemed to her the most charm - 
 intj combination of highland and seaside that she 
 had ever seen. 
 
 But she did not linger long then orer its beauty, 
 for she saw on her table some newly arrived Eng- 
 lish letters in familiar hand- writing. She turned 
 to open them with the unreasonable feeling which 
 every traveller knows, that, because so many silent 
 days had separated her from her old home, some- 
 thing important must have happened of which 
 these letters would make her aware. 
 
m 
 
 I ••'■K'iliM'-Ily 
 
 m 
 
 PART IV 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 The travellers felt naturally inclined to rest 
 awhile, and the day after their arrival at Murray 
 Bay was passed in lounging, leisurely strolls, 
 and quiet talk. It was one of the uncertain, April- 
 like days very common in that region, when fre- 
 quent showers alternate with glorious bursts of 
 brilliant sunshine, and exquisite double rainbows 
 brood over the transfigured hills. Ethel, who had 
 now recovered much of her natural elasticity of 
 spirit and keen enjoyment o" natural beauty, was 
 eager to see something more of the picturesque sur- 
 roundings that had so delighted her on her arrival 
 the evening before. Her cousin Carrie had ' taken 
 to ' her at first sight, and was ready to take her in 
 charge, and act as general ciceroney appropriating 
 her whenever it was possible to secure her for a 
 companion; while Fanny and the boys equally 
 appropriated Mr Kavanagh, carrying him off to 
 see all their favourite haunts within reach. Miss 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 137 
 
 to rest 
 
 Murray 
 
 ' strolls, 
 
 n, April- 
 
 r'hen fre- 
 
 lursts of 
 
 ainbows 
 
 ivho had 
 
 icity of 
 
 ity, was 
 
 lie sur- 
 
 arrival 
 
 ' taken 
 
 B her in 
 
 )riatinff 
 
 for a 
 
 equally 
 
 off to 
 
 Miss 
 
 Bruce in the meantime took some pains to secure 
 the lion's share of Mr Stuart's society. Ethel was 
 not much attracted to this young lady. Her keen 
 grey eyes had an unpleasantly watchful and scru- 
 tinising expression, and Ethel's quick intuition, 
 which she at first resented in her own mind as 
 uncharitable, gave her the impression of a shallow 
 and selfish nature. 
 
 The morning was spent in exploring the long 
 strajjfflinor villajje that stretched alonor the shore of 
 the bay which gives its name to the place, at the 
 foot of the green rounded hills that bound the 
 narrow strip of valley. Ethel looked with much 
 curiosity, at the little foreign-looking wooden houses 
 with their tiny balconies or verandas, now tenanted 
 chiefly by summer visitors, and almost guiltless of 
 furniture, with the exception of the big box-stove, 
 the tall cupboards, and plain wooden chairs, that 
 belonged to the French owners, who themselves 
 inhabited them in winter. The temporary tenants, 
 however, had made the simple furnishings more 
 home-like and attractive, by pinning up prints and 
 photographs on the walls, and hanging birchen 
 baskets and toy canoes filled with fern, about the 
 rooms and veran'ias. Then there were the various 
 hotels to inspect, and meet there, old friends of the 
 Aylmers of former years; and troops of merry 
 children to watch, as they bathed on the sands, or 
 dug holes to catch smelts. No one of the party 
 
pi 
 
 sill 
 
 \ i 
 
 1 1 
 
 mi 
 
 138 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 thought of mustering courage for bathing so soon ; 
 for the water is so cold at Murray Bay that it 
 requires Spartan fortitude to venture into it. 
 
 Late in the afternoon, after the clouds had 
 cleared p.- ly, promising a glorious sunset, the 
 younger members of the party took a leisurely 
 walk along the road that leads round the head of 
 the bay, following the curve of the shore, past the 
 quaint F ' frrmhouses, with their round clay 
 ovens by th<. ^'. of the road in front, and their 
 narrow strips of <^(.rn-fie!'^^ and tobocco-patches 
 stretching a;; tl e si' '" the slope behind, while, 
 here and there, a pntn : .. mgh a little tangle of 
 brushwood led up to the pasture-land above. As 
 the road rounded the bay, with its stretch of 
 yellow sands, at low tide, and two large vessels, 
 lying stranded on them, they came at intervals on 
 rustic bridges that crossed tiny trickling brooks, 
 and could hear the unseen plash of a miniature 
 waterfall, through the dense foliage that filled a 
 hidden ravine. Presently they found themselves 
 in the picturesque little French village, so foreign 
 in its aspect to Ethel's English eyes, with its grey 
 balconied cottages, showing glimpses of primitive 
 Norman interiors, while the housewives sat knitting 
 or sewing at their open doors, chatting merrily 
 with each other, and ready to give a nod and smile 
 to * Ma'amselle Fanny,' whom they knew very well 
 as a yearly visitor. The children at play would 
 
NGE 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 139 
 
 J so soon ; 
 y that it 
 it. 
 
 •uds had 
 
 nset, the 
 
 leisurely 
 
 e head of 
 
 past the 
 
 lund clay 
 
 ind their 
 
 o-patches 
 
 id, while, 
 
 tangle of 
 
 10 ve. As 
 
 iretch of 
 
 J vessels, 
 
 rvals on 
 
 brooks, 
 
 liniature 
 
 filled a 
 
 emselves 
 
 foreign 
 
 its grey 
 
 rimitive 
 
 knitting 
 
 merrily 
 
 id smile 
 
 ery well 
 
 y would 
 
 stop as they passed by, and salute them with a re- 
 spectful bow or curtsey, very different, as Ethel 
 was quite ready to admit, from Anglo-Saxon awk- 
 wardness. They inspected the large white church 
 which was so conspicuous and picturesque a point 
 in the distant view of the bay, and looked with 
 interest at the pretty Preshythre close by. with its 
 shady garden overhanging the river, where the 
 priest, in his long cassock, walking meditatively up 
 and down the paths, unconsciously completed the 
 picture. Then they crossed the substantial bridge 
 that spans the Murray, just above its embouchure, 
 where its shallow stream strays at low tide, among 
 the dark boulders and golden gravel, with an 
 occasional tiny rapid quickening its flow. They 
 pursued the path, which curved backward, ascend- 
 ing the wooded hill on the other side of the bridge, 
 among cool pine woods, with glimpses of the bay, 
 river, and distant hills, showing through its open- 
 ings ; till they reached a little memorial chapel 
 standing on a wooded hill-side, embowered in 
 foliage. As they stood looking at it, a bright 
 French Canadian boy came up, and offered to find 
 'le clef,' if they would like to go in. Ethel, to 
 whom such things were a novelty, thought she 
 should like to see the interior, and to rest there for 
 a while, as she was beginning to feel very tired 
 with the long walk. Mr Stuart volunteered to stay 
 
I40 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 with her while the rest of the party continued 
 their ramble somewhat farther. 
 
 Ethel looked with much interest at the rude 
 pictures and the candles, and the lamp that alwaj's 
 burned before the little shrine. * It seems a strange 
 fancy,* she said at last, 'to build this sort of 
 memorial to a dead friend. It reminds one of 
 shrines we hear about in China and other heathen 
 countries.* 
 
 *Yes,' Mr Stuart replied, 'I suppose it all 
 comes from the same root, the common mistake of 
 thinking of religion as a ceremonial, rather than 
 as a life. As some of our philosophers do that, it 
 is not much wonder if the unthinking multitude do 
 it too. But still I think I can understand this. It 
 is such a strong instinct in our nature to try to 
 associate the sacred memories so dear to us with 
 all that we feel most sacred in our own inner life, 
 the deathless life. Are not our churchyards often 
 illustrations of the same feelinjj ? ' 
 
 ' I suppose so,' said Ethel, ' but it always seems 
 too sad — the grave, I mean.' 
 
 ' It tvould be,' he replied, 'but for the " hope of 
 an endless life." That seems to open up a vista 
 into the clear heaven, above all the chances and 
 changes of this mortal life. At least I got such a 
 glimpse from my mother's peaceful death-bed, and 
 I think I could never lose it.* 
 
 Their companions had not yet returned when 
 
 II 
 
NGE 
 continued 
 
 the rude 
 sit alwaj's 
 a strange 
 J sort of 
 s one of 
 r heathen 
 
 se it all 
 listake of 
 -her than 
 lo that, it 
 titude do 
 
 this. It 
 to try to 
 
 us with 
 nner life, 
 'ds often 
 
 p's seems 
 
 ' hope of 
 
 a vista 
 
 ices and 
 
 t such a 
 
 )ed, and 
 
 d when 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 141 
 
 they came out of the chapel, and began slowly to 
 retrace the homeward way ; so that their quiet 
 talk went on without interruption. Ethel had 
 never felt so much at home with Mr Stuart, nor 
 had he ever conversed so freely with her. It 
 seemed as if they had got on a friendly footing of 
 comradeship, and he talked to her as frankly as he 
 might have done to a sister. She was surprised to 
 find how deeply and seriously he had thought 
 about subjects, of which, with all her conscien- 
 tiousness in regard to v^/hat she considered 
 * religious duties * she had hitherto thought very 
 J conventionally and superficially. Some of the 
 expressions used by Mr Stuart during this walk set 
 her thinking for days to come ; and she instinctively 
 recognised the difference between his earnest tone 
 and the mere surface talk which was all that Edgar 
 Fane had ever ventured on, in referring to a subject 
 in which he himself felt no deep interest. The 
 subject led Mr Stuart to reminiscences of his own 
 early life and home training — of his mother, early 
 widowed, and of her brave determination to educate 
 her children at any sacrifice to herself — of the debt 
 he felt he owed to her memory in discharging the 
 same duty towards the younger members of his 
 family, and of his own early professional struggles, 
 previous to becoming a member of Mr Aylmer's 
 firm. Ethel had often wondered what her aunt's 
 
 IpRf:' 
 
142 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 husband might be like, and now she ventured to 
 put the question. 
 
 'He is a very quiet, hard-working man, and a good 
 lawyer, much engrossed by his profession, and a 
 most indulgent husband and father. He is not by 
 any means so conversational as your aunt,' he said, 
 with a smile, 'but he is a close observer, and in 
 conducting a case nothing seems to escape him. 
 And now ' he added, with a half-drawn sigh, ' after 
 my long holiday, I have to " buckle to " and plunge 
 into work. There's always plenty of that, even in 
 vacation. I confess it's something of an effort, for 
 law would not have been my choice, had I been 
 free to choose.' 
 
 * No ? ' said Ethel, looking at him in some sur- 
 prise. 
 
 ' No ? ' he said, * I took it up simply as the best 
 means of earning a living and providing for those 
 whom it was my duty to care for. I did not feel a 
 vocation for either medicine or the Church, and I 
 believed I had the qualities that a lawyer needs 
 most — patience, perseverance, and willingness to 
 work! 
 
 * And what should you have preferred had you 
 been free to choose ? ' she inquired, with some 
 interest. 
 
 * Well, I'm afraid it sounds a trifle priggish to say 
 80, but I think I should have liked nothing so well 
 as setting to work to make life more tolerable for 
 
JXGE 
 ntured to 
 
 ,nd a good 
 m, and a 
 is not by 
 ;/ he said, 
 r, and in 
 jape him. 
 ^h, 'after 
 id plunge 
 t, even in 
 effort, for 
 id I been 
 
 5ome sur- 
 
 the best 
 :or those 
 tot feel a 
 |h, and I 
 |er needs 
 :ness to 
 
 lad you 
 ih some 
 
 |h to say 
 
 so well 
 
 ible for 
 
 THE IIEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 143 
 
 some of my fellow-creatures. There ia so much of 
 that to do on every side 1 Of course I know one 
 has always a chance of doing something ^ and a 
 lawyer has many opportunities, if he will use them ; 
 but I often envy people who can devote the greater 
 portion of their time to lightening the load of 
 misery and sin that oppresses this sorrowful world, 
 following, in so far as one might, the greatest of 
 examples.' 
 
 There was a thoughtful silence, and very soon the 
 attention of both was absorbed in watching the 
 growing beauty of the sunset hues. It seemed to 
 Ethel afterwards as if the earnest thoughtful tone 
 of their talk had blended so harmoniously with the 
 peaceful influences of the summer evening, that she 
 could never afterwards recall the beauty of the 
 surrounding scene, the soft shadowy green of the 
 nearer hills, here and there thrown out by the warm 
 sunset light, the crimson and purple of the distant 
 ones, and the rich soft colouring of sky and river, 
 without again hearing also those low spoken words, 
 so simple and yet so earnest. She had always been 
 a * religious ' girl, but from that hour both religion 
 and life seemed to her fraught with a new meaning 
 and a new interest. 
 
 As their little party collected in the bright 
 sitting-room that evening, Mrs Aylmer begged her 
 niece to give them some music, provided that it did 
 not pain her to do so. Ethel assented at once, 
 
 
 -. 
 
 I™ 
 
 II i); 
 
144 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 feeling that she must overcome her natural disin- 
 clination to play the old familiar airs to compara- 
 tive strangers under such changed circumstances. 
 She selected some of her favourite Songs without 
 Words, rendered with her usual delicacy and 
 feeling, which proved to bo favourites of Mr 
 Kavanagh's also. Fanny and Miss Bruce protested 
 that they would give anything to play like that, 
 which Mrs Aylmer remarked they would not be 
 likely to do, unless they worked harder. Mr Stuart 
 leaned back in his chair in silence, losing not a note 
 of what gave him the keenest enjoyment, though 
 even Miss Bruce's pointed appeal failed to draw out 
 any decided expression of it. But he came up to 
 Ethel a little later, and thanked her for the 
 pleasure she had given him. 
 
 * I don't know much about music,' he said, * so I 
 never attempt to criticise it, but I know what most 
 appeals to me, and seems to realise indefinite crav- 
 ings that nothing else can satisfy.' The remark 
 called a little colour to Ethel's still pale cheek, for 
 she could not help being pleased with Mr Stuart's 
 approbation. She was annoyed, at the moment, to 
 meet the keen eyes of Miss Bruce, which seemed 
 always on the watch, and her uneasy consciousness 
 of annoyance only made the colour grow deeper. 
 
 * Well, what shall we do to-morrow ? ' asked 
 Fanny, abruptly ending one of the playful quarrels 
 in which she and Kavanagh were perpetually 
 
WE 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 145 
 
 al disin- 
 iompara- 
 nstances. 
 without 
 acy and 
 1 of Mr 
 protested 
 ike tJiat, 
 1 not be 
 Ir Stuart 
 ot a note 
 i, though 
 draw out 
 me up to 
 for the 
 
 aid, *so I 
 lat most 
 lite crav- 
 remark 
 leek, for 
 Stuart's 
 >ment, to 
 seemed 
 ;iousness 
 [eeper. 
 
 asked 
 
 [quarrels 
 
 )etually 
 
 engaged ; ' we ought to have an expedition of 
 
 some sort, seeing that it's Norman's last day here.' 
 
 ' I hope 710^ I ' exclaimed Mr Stuart, * you know 
 
 u asked to come again in the end of next month, 
 
 and I mean to come, if only to see you home.' 
 
 * Oh, don't talk of going home yet, when we've 
 only just come ! * exclaimed Fanny, with her most 
 becoming pout. ' But what shall we do ? can't we 
 have a canoe-party, and a picnic up the river ? ' 
 
 * I think Ethel would hardly be fit for a canoe- 
 party, yet,' said Mrs Ayltner. She had better begin 
 with a shorter and easier trip. Besides, I couldn 
 
 I (-->, and I don't want to lose Norman's last day.' 
 
 Suppose we drive to the Falls of the Fraser,' 
 suggested Miss Bruce, * that's not too far, i id it'a 
 such a lovely place for a picnic' 
 
 This suggestion was finally accepted, and the de- 
 tails of the expedition quickly settled. Next morn- 
 ing all were early astir, some to prepare sandwiches 
 and other requisites for the luncheon, others to look 
 up the needed vehicles, and discuss the weather. 
 Miss Howard seemed brighter and more like her 
 old self than she had done since her uncle's death. 
 She looked charming, her aunt thought, when she 
 came down appropriately attired for the expedition, 
 in a dark grey travelling ulster relieved by a plain 
 white collar, which had a less sombre effect than the 
 dead black she had hitherto worn, and also showed 
 
 the fine outlines of her figure to perfection. 
 
 K 
 
■■ 
 
 iiill 
 
 146 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 ' Cousin Ethel, I really think you're getting up a 
 colour ! ' exclaimed Fanny, looking charming her- 
 self in her favourite dark-blue sailor costume, as 
 they stood with tightly packed baskets, awaiting 
 the arrival of the caUches, these primitive-looking 
 vehicles being the only ones fit for the rough roads 
 they had to drive over. 
 
 ' Yes,* said Miss Bruce, mischievously, I thought 
 ast evening that Miss Howard's colour was 
 beginning to come back.' 
 
 Oh, I am sure that the air of Murray Bay will 
 do wonders for you — my child,' said her aunt, with 
 her kindly smile, innocent of any covert allusion, 
 which Ethel of course ignored, though she could 
 not prevent her colour from deepening again, to 
 her great annoyance. 
 
 When the caUches drove up, Kavanagh as usual 
 claimed Fanny as his companion, on the groT'nd 
 that he needed her to show him the way. Mr 
 Stuart made no objection to the arrangement, being 
 evidently disposed to allow Fanny the utmost 
 freedom of action. Kavanagh had told him, the 
 night before, that he thought he should remain at 
 Murray Bay for a week's visit, which he had been 
 pressingly invited to do by Fanny, seconded by the 
 always hospitable Mrs Aylmer. 'You know,' he 
 said, * It won't really make any difference to any 
 one, and I might never have a chance to be here 
 again.' 
 
VGE 
 
 ing up a 
 ing her- 
 itume, as 
 awaiting 
 3-looking 
 gh roads 
 
 '. thought 
 our was 
 
 Bay will 
 unt, with 
 allusion, 
 she could 
 again, to 
 
 as usual 
 |e grornd 
 ay. Mr 
 nt, being 
 utmost 
 him, the 
 emain at 
 Ihad been 
 |ed by the 
 now,' he 
 ice to any 
 be here 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 147 
 
 ' Well, you know your own business best, Will,' 
 his cousin had gravely replied. ' You must do as 
 you think right.' 
 
 Will would rather he had said, ' Do as you like 
 best* which might mean a different thing. The 
 refrain of his own rondeau, * Straight to the goal,* 
 had been haunting him a little, but, after all, why 
 should he not spend a week in so charming a place, 
 in delicious summer weather, to say nothing of the 
 pleasant society ? Into what he might be drifting 
 he would not allow himself time to think. 
 
 Miss Bruce made a palpable bid for a seat in the 
 caleche Mr Stuart was to drive — each vehicle hold- 
 ing in general only one person besides the driver. 
 
 He did not take the hint, however — observant as 
 he usually was — but said, turning to Ethel, and hold- 
 ing out his hand, ' May not I help you up, Miss 
 Howard,' She at once, of course, accepted his 
 offered aid, feeJing that any hesitation would be 
 superjfluous and ill-timed. Miss Bnice consoled 
 herself with the eager invitation of the boys to 
 squeeze into the one which they were to drive, 
 while Mrs Aylmer and Carrie packed themselves 
 into another which happened to be rather larger, 
 with a driver who could make himself conveniently 
 small. 
 
 The charming morning had put every one into 
 excellent spirits, as they drove rapidly up the road 
 that followed the curve of the Bay, crossed the 
 
148 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 if 
 
 %% i 
 
 bridge at the village, and followed the river upward 
 for several miles. Then they turned off into a 
 narrower road that ran in among the hill-side farms, 
 up and down short hills, often ladder-like in steep- 
 ness, where it sometimes seemed as if the caUche 
 — passengers and all — must topple over on the little 
 Canadian pony, which set its sturdy feet firmly 
 against the stones, as if shod with creepers. The 
 experience was rather startling at first, and Ethel 
 had to hold on to the caUche for a time, laughingly 
 declaring that it was as bad as a first lesson 
 in riding. Gradually, however, she became accus- 
 tomed to the motion, and learned to balance her- 
 self so as not to fear even the steep ascents, where 
 Mr^Stuart alighted to lead the pony up, and lighten 
 his burden. At length, after a long succession of 
 such ups and downs, they left all semblance of a 
 road behind, taking down fences, and crossing 
 pasture- fields, as if that were a matter of course. 
 When even the ponies could go no farther, the 
 whole party alighted, the young men undertaking 
 the conveyance of the baskets. Soon the murmur 
 of an unseen waterfall reached their ears, and very 
 soon they came out upon a mountain stream, 
 rambling in an aimless fashion among dark brown 
 boulders and golden gravel, and making, here and 
 there, a preliminary leap, in a small cascade, before 
 taking the final leap. They clambered down the 
 crags, amid clustering foliage, till they came to a 
 
NGE 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 149 
 
 [• upward 
 ff into a 
 de farms, 
 in steep- 
 le caUche 
 the little 
 et firmly 
 jrs. The 
 ,nd Ethel 
 lughingly 
 st lesson 
 ne accus- 
 ance her- 
 its, where 
 id lighten 
 cession of 
 ance of a 
 crossing 
 )f course, 
 ther, the 
 lertaking 
 murmur 
 and very 
 1 stream, 
 rk brown 
 here and 
 de, before 
 iown the 
 same to a 
 
 ledge of flat rock, partly carpeted with green turf, 
 close to the verge of the sheet of silvery foam that 
 descended, in a succession of smaller leaps, into the 
 boiling pool below. The depth of the fall was not 
 great, but the cascade possessed a picturesque 
 beauty that was heightened by the luxuriant over- 
 hanging foliage, and by the sylvan beauty of the 
 river down below. From the rock on which they 
 stood, they looked down on a broad green plateau, 
 partially shaded by fine spreading trees and dotted 
 with grazing cows — jutting out into the river, 
 which then wound its way leisurely behind a 
 richly wooded promontory, and so passed out of 
 further view. To Ethel it recalled scenes in Wales 
 which she had visited with her uncle, while 
 Kavanagh went into a torrent of raptures over it, 
 comparing it with half-a-dozen Swiss waterfalls in 
 a breath. 
 
 The little party were soon scattered, enjoying the 
 falls from different points of view, and in different 
 ways. The boys of course were speedily engaged 
 in scaling all possible, and some impossible descents 
 and ascents, Fanny, with Kavanagh's assistance, 
 following as far as she could venture; while the 
 others found their way down in a more leisurely 
 f.ishion, enjoying the fragrance of the moist air, and 
 the cool, soothing rush of the cascade. On the 
 gieen plateau below, with the cascade in full view, 
 they sat down to enjoy the luncheon which the 
 
mm;. 
 
 ISO TBS HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 girls had set out on the grass, with some tasteful 
 decorations of wild-flowers and ferns, and it is 
 scarcely necessary to say that it received ample 
 justice. Then followed an hour or two of repose 
 for the elders at least, Kavanagh giving them one 
 of his favourite poetical recitations, after which 
 there were various strolls to some pretty nooks in 
 the vicinity, well-known to the young Ayimers, or 
 lingering saunterings along the river bank. Mr 
 Stuart and Fanny had one tete-d-tete walk, from 
 which Fanny returned with a heightened colour 
 and a somewhat ruffled temper, while Mr Stuart's 
 grave face wore a disturbed and pained expression 
 very unusual to it. Kavanagh, who had been 
 talking with the other girls, meantime, in a some- 
 what distraite manner, soon found an excuse for 
 stealing off with Fanny, so far, that when the hour 
 of departure came, it was difficult to find them. Mr 
 Stuart seemed silent and pre-occupied, as he handed 
 Ethel into the caUche for the return drive, and for 
 some distance there was but little attempt at con- 
 versation, Ethel feeling warm sympathy with him, 
 as well as some indignation with her cousin for her 
 reckless and open flirtation. 
 
 ' She is not a bit worthy of his affection, when 
 she can trifle with it so recklessly,' was the thought 
 that kept repeating itself in her mind as she 
 occasionally ventured on a common-place remark. 
 
 ' It is strange what complex beings we are, and 
 
A.NGE 
 
 le tasteful 
 and it is 
 ^ed ample 
 of repose 
 them one 
 fter which 
 y nooks in 
 Lylmers, or 
 bank. Mr 
 7alk, from 
 led colour 
 [r Stuart's 
 expression 
 had been 
 in a some- 
 excuse for 
 the hour 
 hem. Mr 
 he handed 
 e, and for 
 t at con- 
 ith him, 
 in for her 
 
 lion, when 
 le thought 
 Id as she 
 Iremark. 
 are. and 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 151 
 
 how little we understand ourselves, after all,' 
 he remarked, at last, very irrelevantly to her 
 previous observation, and rather as if he were 
 thinking aloud than replying. 
 
 Ethel did not need to make any reply, as just 
 then they came to one of the interrupting hills 
 that precluded conversation. The pony was de- 
 scending it at his usual pace, when some strap in the 
 harness suddenly gave way, interfering with his 
 motion so much that he set off at a rate which it 
 required all Mr Stuart's strength to check. He 
 was a good driver, and did not loose his presence of 
 mind ; but the hill was a long one, and an upset 
 seemed imminent. He glanced at his companion 
 who had grown suddenly pale, for she was still far 
 from strong. ' Keep quite still,' he said, in a rather 
 peremptory tone, 'and hold firmly on to me and the 
 caleche.* She obeyed instinctively, and with all the 
 force of his strong arm he continued to hold in the 
 frightened animal, hoping that it would soon 
 become quieter. But presently there was a sudden 
 turn, the caUche swayed violently, and, before she 
 knew what was happening, Ethel had felt herself 
 caught in Mr Stuart's firm grasp, and he had cleared 
 the overturning vehicle at a bound, with her in his 
 arms. Both came down heavily on the rough bank, 
 and as Mr Stuart staggered to his feet and tried to 
 raise the girl, whose eyes were closed in a momen- 
 
 m 
 
152 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 miw. 
 
 tttry faintness, he exclaimed, by an involuntary 
 impulse, ' Ethel, are you hurt, dear ? ' 
 
 She heard the unexpected words, with a strange, 
 startled thrill of emotion, and opening her eyes met 
 hi8 fixed upon her face, with an expression that 
 haunted her for weeks after. 
 
 The occupants of the other vehicles quickly 
 gathered round them,and Mrs Aylmer could scarcely 
 be reassured that Ethel had not met with some 
 serious injury. The boys soon captured the pony, 
 who came back, crestfallen, with his caliche behind 
 him, looking very much ashamed of himself. 
 Carrie and Ethel exchanged places, much to Ethel's 
 relief, though not for the reason her aunt assigned 
 for the chansre. She would not have been in the 
 least afraid to venture the pony again ; but it was 
 a relief just then not to have to talk to Mr Stuart. 
 
iNGE 
 voluntary 
 
 a strange, 
 r eyes met 
 }sioa that 
 
 I quickly 
 d scarcely 
 rith some 
 the pony, 
 he behind 
 himself, 
 to Ethel's 
 assigned 
 in in the 
 it it was 
 r Stuart. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 The arrival of the steamer at the pier, shortly after 
 the return of the party, made Mr Stuart's departure 
 and leave-taking a very hurried one, which was 
 rather a relief to Ethel, who soon recovered from 
 the slight shock of the upset, though the other dis- 
 turbing experience, known only to herself, was not 
 so easily forgotten. She discovered too, with no 
 little vexation as the days went by, that Mr Stuart's 
 departure had made a blank in her life for which 
 she had been quite unprepared. She had never 
 realised till now how much the almost constant 
 companionship of the last few days had become a 
 part of her daily life, and so important a part that 
 she found herself consciously missing it at almost 
 every moment. Mr Stuart's opinions and standards 
 of judgment had made such an impression on her 
 mind that she could not help involuntarily referring 
 to this test every subject that came up for discus- 
 sion. It seemed as if the old, long-established sense 
 of reliance that she had been accustomed to feel in 
 
Ill 
 
 154 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 her uncle's judgment, combined with the more 
 recently awakened sympathy and fellow-feeling 
 that had drawn her to Edgar Fane, as almost the 
 first masculine friend of her own age who had come 
 in her way, had both been transferred to this new 
 friend. She felt thoroughly dissatisfied with her- 
 self, for what seemed to her the disgraceful fickle- 
 ness that made it possible for her, in so short a time, 
 to be so strongly influenced by an entirely new 
 friendship. For she would not call it to herself by 
 any other name, though she knew in those under- 
 lying depths of consciousness in which we often 
 dimly feel what we will not explicitly confess, even 
 to ourselves, that Mr Stuart had grown to be some- 
 thing more than an ordinary friend. But indepen- 
 dently of her own past, it seemed to her disloyal to 
 every consideration of duty and gratitude to think 
 of her cousin's betrothed as she had begun, in- 
 sensibly, to think of Mr Stuart. That he thought 
 of her only as a friend and future connexion she felt 
 sure, for though those hasty impulsive words and 
 the look that still haunted her might have made 
 her think otherwise, she was convinced that he 
 loved her capricious cousin with his whole heart, 
 and that his love was strong enough to bear with 
 the faults that so evidently pained him, until it 
 had helped her to overcome them. What prepos- 
 terous vanity it would be for her to imagine for a 
 moment that his brief intercourse with herself 
 
iNGE 
 
 the more 
 ow-feeling 
 almost the 
 ) had come 
 • this new 
 with her- 
 sful fickle- 
 ort a time, 
 lirely new 
 herself by 
 Dse under- 
 we often 
 ifess, even 
 be some- 
 t indepen- 
 pisloyal to 
 
 to think 
 egun, in- 
 e thought 
 )n she felt 
 vords and 
 ave made 
 
 that he 
 ole heart, 
 Dear with 
 
 until it 
 prepos- 
 
 ine for a 
 herself 
 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 155 
 
 could so soon have changed a feeling that had, as 
 she had every reason to believe, been the growth of 
 years. She felt lowered in her own esteem, and 
 almost seemed to herself guilty of treachery to her 
 cousin, as well as annoyed, by the persistency with 
 which the thought and image of Mr Stuart would 
 haunt her, despite her firm resolve to conquer the 
 often overpowering longing for his society. But 
 the unsatisfied craving, the longing just to hear his 
 voice again would steal upon her heart in lonely, 
 thoughtful hours, and indeed almost seemed to grow 
 upon her, as the long summer days passed by, with 
 no other interest strong enough to fill up this new 
 blank in her life, indeed for the present seemed to 
 swallow up all the others. To Fanny she tried to 
 atone, by every means in her power, for the involun- 
 tary disloyalty which troubled her sensitive con- 
 science. But Fanny, at all events, was serenely 
 unconscious of anything to complain of; nor did 
 her betrothed's departure seem to trouble her at all. 
 She always professed a dislike to * sentimental 
 people,' and if she missed him in any degree she 
 managed to conceal the feeling very effectually. 
 She was full of overflowing spirits, ready for any- 
 thing in the shape of an expedition, in which she 
 .md Kavanagh were always the leaders. Nothing 
 fatigued her, and Ethel often envied her the 
 physical vigour and elasticity which made her, after 
 every long ramble or day's pleasuring, just as fresh 
 

 iS6 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 and energetic as ever to plan and carry out new 
 excursions next morning. Ethel was anxious to 
 carry out her aunt's desire that she should help 
 Fanny to improve in her music, but she found it 
 impossible to prevail upon her to settle down to 
 the steady practice that she so much needed. 
 
 'Winter will do well enough for that^ she 
 declared impatiently. * Our summer here is short 
 enough without wasting time on stupid practising 
 indoors.' 
 
 ' And then, in winter, you have your luncheons 
 and tive o'clock teas, and shopping, and parties,' 
 said Milly Bruce ; ' / know just how it always is ! 
 Now, if Miss Howard would only give me a few 
 hints I should be so grateful ! * 
 
 Ethel was willing to be of service to anyone, 
 even to Miss Bruce, whom she by no means 
 fancied ; and that practical young lady took her at 
 her word, and gained a good deal thereby, being 
 quite willing to take all necessary trouble, if only 
 she could approach Miss Howard as a performer. 
 Ethel fancied that she availed herself of the oppor- 
 tunity to turn the conversation in the direction of 
 Mr Stuart; that she tried to draw her out about 
 their intercourse at sea, in order to ascertain how 
 much she had seen of him then, as well as how she 
 liked him ; in which attempts, however, she signally 
 failed to extract much information. 
 
 Will Kavanagh's one week insensibly extended 
 
 i 
 
p 
 
 NGE 
 
 out new 
 xious to 
 luld help 
 found it 
 down to 
 ed. 
 
 hat^ she 
 e is short 
 )ractising 
 
 uncheons 
 [ parties,' 
 .Iways is ! 
 me a few 
 
 I anyone, 
 10 means 
 ok her at 
 3y, being 
 if only 
 erformer. 
 le oppor- 
 ection of 
 ut about 
 )ain how 
 how she 
 signally 
 
 extended 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 157 
 
 itself to three; all the more easily because Mr 
 Aylmer was detained in town a fortnight by some 
 unexpected business, arising out of the arrival of a 
 friend whom he had not expected till later in the 
 season ; and Fanny declared that they * could not 
 possibly get on without a man body about the 
 house, over and above the two boys ! ' Kavanagh, 
 however, managed to divide his attentions among 
 the three girls with tolerable impartiality, though 
 now and then Fanny and he would mysteriously 
 disappear for two or three hours, always, however, 
 having some excellent reason to give for their 
 absence. For the rest, the days slipped as swiftly 
 and pleasantly by as charming scenery, bracing air, 
 and perfect freedom could make them do. There 
 were hill-side rambles and boating-parties, and 
 drives to other picturesque waterfalls in the vicinity, 
 or to visit friends whose cottages were some miles 
 off on the opposite promontory of Cap-A-L'Aigle, 
 where the smooth highway ran for miles along the 
 verge of the bold headland, below which lay the 
 mighty river like a great blue crystal, bounded by 
 cliffs of amethyst and opal, while, to the north and 
 west, the ever varying vista of mountain tops pre- 
 sented an enchanting mingling of rich purples and 
 blues, frequently spanned by superb rainbows ; 
 and at sunset it often seemed as if the heavens 
 above were opened and let down a flood of glory 
 that made them glow with rose and crimson, and 
 
158 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 lighted up the nearer woods with an exquisite 
 golden green. Such a succession of fine sunsets 
 Ethel had never seen before, and could never after 
 forget, for each as it came recalled that first sunset 
 walk with Mr Stuart which seemed to have left 
 such an indelible impression on her mind. 
 
 All things, however, must come to an end, and 
 Kavanagh's visit ended very soon after Mr 
 Aylmer's arrival. Possibly the consciousness of 
 the quiet watchful scrutiny of Fanny's father 
 made the young man a little uncomfortable. At 
 all events it seemed to rouse him to think about 
 his expectant relatives, and to decide that it was 
 time that he should make his way westward to 
 join them. But evidently it was something of a 
 wrench to tear himself away, and the Kavanagh of 
 he evening before his departure was oddly 
 different from the lively young fellow Ethel had 
 first known on shipboard. His characteristic 
 buoyancy seemed all gone, and he could scarcely 
 keep up even the semblance of cheerfulness ; and, 
 after a long tete-d-tite walk which he and Fanny 
 had taken up the hill that rose immediately above 
 the cottage, there were traces of tears on Fanny's 
 blooming cheeks, which the keen eye of Miss Bruce 
 at least, could clearly discern. Whatever her 
 motive for it might be, that young lady, Ethel 
 felt sure, took some trouble to secure for Fanny 
 and Kavanagh as much opportunity for private 
 
WE 
 
 THE UEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 159 
 
 exquisite 
 sunsets 
 7QX after 
 )t sunset 
 kdve left 
 
 end, and 
 fter Mr 
 sness of 
 s father 
 ible. At 
 ik about 
 at it was 
 bward to 
 ing of a 
 anagh of 
 oddly 
 thel had 
 icteristic 
 scarcely 
 ss ; and, 
 Fanny 
 y above 
 Fanny's 
 ss Bruce 
 ver her 
 Ethel 
 r Fanny 
 private 
 
 ' 
 
 I 
 
 talk as possible, especially on that evening. Did 
 she wish that Fanny should break off her engage- 
 ment with Mr Stuart? It looked like it, certainly. 
 
 Mr Ayliner had brought some little remem- 
 brances from Mr Stuart for the family party, and 
 among them was a package of books for the 
 general enjoyment. Miss Howard noticed, with an 
 involuntary sense of pleasure, that among these 
 there were several of a kind which neither Fanny 
 nor her mother would be in tho least likely to care 
 for reading, but which, in the course of their con- 
 versations, she had expressed a desire to read. On 
 looking through them as she eagerly did, she found 
 several passages marked, bearing on subjects which 
 she had discussed with him, with special interest. 
 
 * I'm sure I don't know what Norman sent these 
 dry books for 1 he knows I don't care for that sort 
 of thing ! ' exclaimed Fanny, impatiently, as she 
 looked over the titles of the volumes. *I don't 
 think anyone is likely to read them but you, 
 Ethel' 
 
 ' Perhaps they were meant for Miss Howard — or 
 
 mc' snid Miss Bruce, with a significant glance 
 
 s Ethel, whose colour rose with quick annoy- 
 
 jct. b^'anny, meantime, was glancing over a letter, 
 lOt a very long one, and as she closed it, she re- 
 marked, ' Norman sends his kindest re.nembrances 
 to every one, ad hopes to be here again in about 
 three weeks fust fancy how time flies! I can 
 
mm 
 
 [60 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 scarcely believe that it's three whole weeks since 
 he went away.' 
 
 Ethel could not help the thrill of pleasure called 
 up by the announcement. Perhaps it was visible 
 in her eyes, for, as she looked up, she met Miss 
 Bruce's scrutinising glance oace more, and again 
 the consciousness of being watched brought the too 
 ready colour to her cheek. She most cordially 
 wished that Miss Bruce would not consider her 
 worthy of so much attention. 
 
 After Kavanagh's departure, Fanny's spirits and 
 energy seemed to diminish perceptibly. She would 
 sometimes grow almost fretful, a strange thing for 
 her, and would sometimes beg off from some of 
 their expeditions, pleading a most unusual fatigue ; 
 and remain at home alone. She watched the 
 arrival of the mail with most unusual interest, and 
 once, Ethel coming upon her suddenly in the 
 shrubbery, found her absorbed in reading a letter, 
 which, with evident confusion, she hastily crushed 
 together and thrust into her pocket. Ethel felt 
 an instant conviction that the letter was from 
 Kavanagh, for Fanny never seemed to feel any em- 
 barrassment in announcing a letter from ' Norman,* 
 which, indeed, usually became at once in some 
 degree public property. 
 
 Ethel's own letters were no many — Miss 
 Ponsonby and Mrs Lyle being almost her only 
 correspondents, for it scarcely needs to be said that 
 
NGE 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE i6r 
 
 3ks since 
 
 are called 
 as visible 
 met Miss 
 ud again 
 it the too 
 cordially 
 sider her 
 
 pirits and 
 5he would 
 thing for 
 1 some of 
 .1 fatigue ; 
 ;ched the 
 lerest, and 
 y in the 
 g a letter, 
 y crushed 
 thel felt 
 as from 
 any em- 
 Norman/ 
 in some 
 
 — Miss 
 
 I her only 
 
 said that 
 
 Mrs Jocelyn was far too busy to write unnecessary 
 and unprofitable letters. A passage in one of Miss 
 Ponsonby's letters about this time gave her some 
 pain and vague uneasiness, though she could not 
 feel that she had anything to reproach herself with 
 in not havinft acted otherwise. The passage ran 
 thus ; — 
 
 ' Your old friend and neighbour, Mr Thornby, was 
 here the other day, and gave me all the news about 
 the Grange and the neighbourhood. He says that 
 Jack Howard is there now, trying to take his place 
 as master, but that, as might be expected, he seems 
 like a fish out of water — looks thoroughly miserable. 
 Half the time he isn't himself, for of course he finds 
 people like himself to drink with ; and the other 
 half he seems to be in the deepest melancholy. A 
 few people have called on him, as Mr Thornby did 
 at first, but he believes he hasn't returned any of 
 their visits, and Mr Thornby doesn't think that 
 the poor fellow can last very long ; and I'm sure no 
 one could desire it. So, my dear, the king may 
 come to his own again, and we may have you back 
 in your right place yet ! ' 
 
 The last sentence sent through Ethel a pang of 
 something like remorse, as she remembered Jack's 
 pitiful appeal to her for help to rise to something 
 better than he could otherwise reach. And now 
 what if by her refusal she were to be in some sort 
 the cause of his defeat and premature death ? But 
 
m 
 
 162 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 could she have acted otherwise ? She thought not. 
 Yet the thought suggested by her aunt, that such 
 a death might profit herself, was utterly repulsive 
 to her. Much as she loved her old home, she could 
 not think of such a possibility without a sense of 
 pain and dismay. 
 
 Mr Aylmer showed Ethel all possible considera- 
 tion and kindness, and evidently took to her on his 
 own account, so that they were frequently com- 
 panions in the long walks in which he delighted, and 
 which Ethel was now strong enough to take with- 
 out over-fatigue. He was something of a naturalist, 
 in his way, preferring the recreation of hunting for 
 ' specimens ' to fishing or loafing , which, in his eyes, 
 were almost convertible terms. He knew a good 
 deal about the natural history of the region, 
 and Ethel gleaned no little information from him 
 in the course of their strolls along the favourite 
 road to Gap-A-VAigley and up the shady fragrant 
 mountain road that led to Quebec, where the occas- 
 sional cabin of a habitant , with its little field of 
 maize and its invariable tobacco patch, would be 
 for miles the sole break in the ' forest primeval.' 
 This rugged road, leading up and down great pine 
 clad hills through a wild and sparsely peopled 
 region, was, as Mr Aylmer explained to her, the 
 land route to Quebec, and therefore the only one 
 available in winter weather. Life in this rugged 
 land, with its severe winter, was hard enough, he 
 
 C 
 
NQE 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 163 
 
 Dught not. 
 that such 
 ■ repulsive 
 she could 
 a sense of 
 
 considera- 
 her on his 
 jntly com- 
 ghted, and 
 take with- 
 naturalist, 
 lunting for 
 in his eyes, 
 ew a good 
 be region, 
 :rom him 
 favourite 
 J fragrant 
 the occas- 
 e field of 
 would be 
 primeval.' 
 great pine 
 peopled 
 her, the 
 3 only one 
 lis rugged 
 nough, he 
 
 remarked, and yet these poor habitants, on the 
 whole, seemed to lead a gayer and happier exis- 
 tence than the more prosperous Anglo-Saxon 
 settlers of the milder country to the west. 
 
 'Part of their easy-going content is doubtless 
 owing to their natural passivity, and even to their 
 lack of enterprise,' he observed. ' But, at least, they 
 are not given to our Anglo-Saxon habit of strain 
 and worry. They take life as it comes, with a 
 smile and a shrug over inevitable hardships, and 
 they are not always tiring themselves by climbing 
 Q hills before they reach them.' 
 
 ' That would indeed be rather superfluous, herel 
 Ethel replied, with a smile, ' when the actual hills 
 must keep them well employed.' 
 
 Mr Aylmer, however, did not respond to her 
 smile, seeming pre-occupied with his own thoughts. 
 
 ' I sometimes feel as if my Fanny must have some 
 French blood in her,' he continued, somewhat 
 irrelevantly. ' She takes life so easily, in general, 
 almost too easily. And yet she does not seem to me 
 quite in her usual spirits just now ; though cer- 
 tainly she is the picture of health. I sometimes 
 wonder whether Mr Stuart and she are altogethei- 
 suited to each other. Fanny has not exactly the 
 qualities that I should have expected Stuart to 
 prize most in a wife. But still you never can tell 
 what any one will do when he falls in love. If 
 
" I 
 
 ■pjf»s> 
 
 164 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 they are honestly in love with each other, other 
 things won't so much matter.' 
 
 Ethel looked a little surprised at hearing so 
 romantic a sentiment from the quiet and elderly 
 Mr Aylmer. She did not suspect, till afterwards, 
 that he might have been trying to draw out her 
 own impressions on the subject. As she did not 
 find it easy to reply, feeling that she could hardly 
 reassure Fanny's father on that score, she was glad 
 when he continued, in a meditative tone, apparently 
 not requiring an answer : 
 
 'There's no one I know whom I esteem more 
 highly than Mr Stuart, or to whom I would more 
 readily entrust my daughter ; but I don't want any 
 child of mine to marry without having her whole 
 heart in it ! I've seen too much of the folly and 
 misery of that sort of thing ! But it's not easy to 
 get at Fanny's real feelings. I often think she seems 
 more careless than she really is.' 
 
 Ethel had this conversation strongly recalled to 
 her mind the very next evening. The day following 
 would be Fanny's birthday, and at tea-time the 
 boys brought in the letters which had arrived by 
 the afternoon mail. Two were for Fanny, and 
 both, with unusual reticence, ;he put into her pocket 
 without opening them. 
 
 * Well, what does Norman say ? ' asked Mrs 
 Aylmer, as usual, a little later, after finishing the 
 perusal of some of her own correspondence. 
 
WE 
 
 er, other 
 
 aring so 
 1 elderly 
 berwards, 
 J out her 
 > did not 
 Id hardly 
 was glad 
 pparently 
 
 em more 
 >uld more 
 want any 
 ler whole 
 folly and 
 )t easy to 
 she seems 
 
 called to 
 "ollowing 
 time the 
 rrived by 
 nny, and 
 ler pocket 
 
 iked Mrs 
 shing the 
 
 56. 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 165 
 
 ' Oh, I haven't read it yet/ she said, indifferently. 
 ' There's no comfort in reading your letters when 
 every one is talking around you.' 
 
 Mr Aylmer said nothing, but Ethel noticed that 
 his eye rested somewhat wistfully on Fanny, who 
 rushed at once into another subject of conversation. 
 
 After tea, as tlie family party were all scattered 
 in different directions, Ethel, drawn out by the calm 
 beauty of the rich August sunset, strolled up the hill 
 behind the house, to secure the wider view of the 
 Bay and the surrounding mountains, which she so 
 much enjoyed, and of which she never grew tired. 
 As she passed a little cluster of the dwarf spruce 
 that grows there so abundantly, she was startled by 
 hearing a stifled sob, and presently discerned 
 Fanny's blue dress and fair hair, as she lay on the 
 turf, shaken with sobs, and quite unconscious 
 of any observation. Ethel's first instinctive 
 impulse was to go up to her cousin and offer her 
 ready sympathy. But the next instant she 
 reflected that Fanny had plainly come here to 
 secure the privacy she could not find in the small 
 house where there was no security from interrup- 
 tion, and her sensitive delicacy of feeling made her 
 shrink from intruding upon her unawares. Ac- 
 cordingly, she turned away in a different direction, 
 so noiselessly, that Fanny remained quite un- 
 conscious of her having approached her retreat. 
 As she returned towards the house in the gathering 
 
w: 
 
 II; 
 
 1 66 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 dusk, she encountered Miss Bruce, evidently a little 
 out of humour. 
 
 * I was wondering where you had all hidden 
 yourselves/ she exclaimed, when she recognised 
 Ethel. * I was writing letters upstairs, and when I 
 came down, I found the house quite empty. 
 Where's Fanny ? ' 
 
 ' I think she is up on the hill,' replied Ethel, 
 and somewhat to her surprise, Miss Bruce, who was 
 not much addicted to twilight wanderings, declared 
 her intention of going up to look for her. Ethel 
 meantime seated herself on a rustic bench in a 
 retired nook of the little garden, and as she heard 
 Milly's voice calling ' Fanny, Fanny ! ' in the dis- 
 tance, through the clear stillness of the evening, she 
 could not help speculating a little as to what might 
 be the cause of the emotion she had witnessed in 
 her usually light-hearted cousin. The thought had 
 gathered strength in her mind that Kavanagh had 
 supplanted Mr Stuart in Fanny's affection — and 
 that the flirtation so carelessly begun, had ended 
 in earnest. If so, she felt pained for Mr Stuart, to 
 whom it must, she believed, be a severe blow, for 
 Ethel could not believe that he would hold her to 
 her entjagement a moment after she should desire to 
 be released, whatever might be the sacrifice to him- 
 self. But, after all, might not this be better than 
 to be disappointed in his wife, after the irrevocable 
 step should have been taken ? 
 
.ly a little 
 
 11 hidden 
 ecognised 
 id when I 
 e empty* 
 
 ed Ethel, 
 
 , who was 
 
 , declared 
 
 r. Ethel 
 
 nch in a 
 
 }he heard 
 
 a the dis- 
 
 ening, she 
 
 lat might 
 
 nessed in 
 
 )U2:ht had 
 
 nagh had 
 
 ion — and 
 
 ad ended 
 
 Stuart, to 
 
 blow, for 
 
 d her to 
 
 desire to 
 
 e to him- 
 
 tter than 
 
 revocable 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE 167 
 
 While still absorbed in these speculations she 
 heard the voices of the two girls returning. She 
 was just about to join them, when some low spoken 
 words of Fanny's reached her ear and made her 
 stop short. 
 
 ' I do think I shall have to tell him, Milly, before 
 he comes back.' 
 
 ' I wouldn't do that, my dear,' replied Miss Bruce, 
 coaxingly. ' It is so much cj .ier and better to say 
 such things, than to write them. You can soften 
 it down so much better, vou know.' 
 
 Ethel turned back quickly, provoked at the 
 contretemps that had made her an involuntary 
 listener to what was not intended for her ears. 
 But she could not help hearing the words, nor 
 could she help the inference her quick intuition 
 drew from them. Was it Mr Stuart who was to 
 be 'told'? And was Miss Bruce afraid that, if 
 Fanny were to tell him before he came back, he 
 might not return at all ? She was angry with her- 
 self for her involuntary suspicion, but, however that 
 might be, she felt very great sympathy for Mr 
 Stuart, over whom she thought she saw a heavy trial 
 impending. 
 
 At breakfast next morning there was a brisk 
 discussion as to what particular mode they should 
 take of celebrating Fanny's birthday. A picnic to 
 the Falls of the Fraser was warmly advocated by 
 the boys, but decidedly negatived by Fanny, who 
 
i68 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 declared that she was tired of picnics in general, 
 and oi' those Falls in particular. 
 
 ' I don't want to do anything in particular,' she 
 said, pettishly. ' It's much too warm ! I mean to try- 
 bathing this morning while it is warm, and if Ethel 
 and Harry would go up to the " Lome House," and 
 ask the Elliotts and Franklins to afternoon tea and 
 tennis, that would be ever so much better than 
 tiring ourselves out with a picnic ! ' 
 
 The elder members of the family were nothing 
 loth to acquiesce in this arrangement, and when 
 Fanny and Miss Bruce set out for their dip, Ethel 
 and her little cousin also set out for the 'Lome 
 House.' Ethel had never attempted bathing in 
 the cold water of the Bay, which is scarcely safe 
 for a delicate constitution, and indeed the others 
 did so only when it was especially warm. Harry 
 who had had his swim already, was always glad to 
 be his cousin's escort, and they strolled leisurely 
 down to the large hotel at the 'Picl meeting merry 
 groups of sojourners at every turn. After seeing 
 the young people Fanny wanted, who were only 
 too glad to accept the invitation, Ethel and Harry 
 walked down the long flight of steps leading from 
 the hotel to the pier, and turned aside to look at the 
 Indian wares of the squaws who sit at their little 
 stalls near the shore, with toy canoes, snow-shoes, 
 baskets, and other trinkets to tempt the summer 
 visitors into parting with a little of their spare cash. 
 
 \ 
 
WE 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 169 
 
 general, 
 
 alar,* she 
 lan to try 
 [ if Ethel 
 use," and 
 11 tea and 
 ter than 
 
 I nothing 
 
 id when 
 
 lip, Ethel 
 
 e 'Lome 
 
 thing in 
 
 cely safe 
 
 le others 
 
 Harry 
 
 s glad to 
 
 eisurely 
 
 ig merry 
 
 jr seeing 
 
 ere only 
 
 d Harry 
 
 ing from 
 
 )k at the 
 
 eir little 
 
 w-shoes, 
 
 summer 
 
 are cash. 
 
 Harry wanted to buy a birthday gift for Fanny, 
 and Ethel had selected a pretty little canoe, filled 
 with trailing vines, when her eye was caught by 
 the figure of a young man who had just descended 
 the flight of steps down which they had come. 
 She had by this time almost lost the habit of 
 scanning, as she had been inclined to do instinctively, 
 the faces of passers-by in the search for a familiar 
 face. But she was instantly attracted to this 
 approaching figure by the intuitive certainty that 
 it was a familiar one. In another moment she had 
 recognised, and was recognised by — Edgar Fane ! 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 
 Ethel was so overcome by surprise, that it 
 swallowed up every other emotioD, in this most 
 unexpected meeting. At least, she was conscious 
 of no other feeling, as the young man hastened for- 
 ward to meet her, irreproachable, as usual, in his 
 faultless summer attire, with his attractive air of 
 gentle deference and an unmistakable expression of 
 happiness on his clear-cut features. Naturally he 
 spoke first ; indeed, Ethel could only exclaim, half 
 articulately, 'Mr Fane, is it possible? * 
 
 'I thought I should give you a surprise,* he said« 
 as composedly as if they had parted only yesterday, 
 'I was just on my way to look you up, having 
 heard from Mrs Jocelyn that I was likely to find 
 you here!' 
 
 'But, how do you come to be here?' she rejoined, 
 regaining her composure the more easily, because 
 of his perfect freedom from embarrassment. 
 
 *Oh,that's easily explained,' he said, * it came about 
 as naturally as possible. I got a commission to write 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 171 
 
 that it 
 his most 
 jonscious 
 ened for- 
 a,l, in his 
 /e air of 
 •esdon of 
 urally he 
 aim, half 
 
 he saidi 
 isterday, 
 , having 
 f to find 
 
 rejoined, 
 because 
 
 Tie about 
 to write 
 
 up the Canadian North West for the Quic-quid] and 
 as Canada has had special attractions for me of late, 
 I jumped at the offer. I left the steamer at 
 Rimouski, to get on the quicker, and came by trairi 
 to Rivihre du Loup, and thence here by boat. We 
 had a fog, and did not get in till very late last 
 night, so I was rather late this morning ; but as soon 
 as I had finished breakfast, I set out to look for 
 you, little dreaming that I should find you so near!' 
 
 The explanation was, indeed, simple enough ; but 
 Ethel felt, to say the least, rather uncomfortably 
 surprised at Fane's great anxiety to meet her, and 
 at the right he evidently assumed to feel and ex- 
 press the same, a right which the terms of their 
 parting had scarcely justified. This feeling made 
 her involuntarily cool in her manner, and the young 
 man instinctively felt the coolness, attributing it to 
 a natural pique, for which he was quite prepared. 
 He began at once to talk of indifferent matters, was 
 duly introduced to Harry, discussed the beauty of 
 the scenery, the charming clearness of the air, 
 her own improved looks, described the last occasion 
 on which he had seen her aunt, and gave her all the 
 bits of home news that seemed to occur to him. 
 But he never spoke of oue piece of news, a very 
 important one, which had been his motive for 
 securing his present mission and for his present 
 forced march to find Miss Howard, without delay. 
 
 As they approached the post office, where Harry, 
 
i7« THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE 
 
 as usual, was to ask for the letters, a small boy of 
 his acquaintance rushed up to him to ask hira to 
 accompany him on a fishing excursion for which he 
 was just starting. Harry of course was nothing 
 loth, but returned to speak to his cousin, as if afraid 
 of failing in courtesy as her escort. 'Tell you 
 what, cousin Ethel,* he said. Til just run on first 
 and ask the post-mistress to get out the letters, and 
 then you can call in and take them home.' 
 
 * Harry is always anxious to fulfil his commissions 
 to the letter' rejoined Miss Howard, smiling. ' He 
 has learned from his father that he ought always 
 to do what he undertakes to do. He is very 
 attentive to me, and I can't help being very fond of 
 him, partly,' she added, in a low voice, * because he 
 is my uncle's namesake.' 
 
 ' I don't wonder,* Fane replied, rather absently, 
 'he will be a noble man if he grows up like 
 Mr Howard. Allow me,' he said, as they reached 
 the door of the little post-office, filled with people 
 asking for their respective mails. ' I will go in and 
 get them for you.' 
 
 Ethel — glad to be saved the inconvenience of 
 pressing through the crowd or of waiting for an 
 indefinite time — stopped for a moment at the door 
 to exchange a iew words with an acquaintance, then 
 instinctively passed slowly on, leaving Fane to 
 follow and overtake her, which he presently did, 
 apologising for the delay, and complaining of the 
 
SGE 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIR MOUNT GRANGE 173 
 
 II boy of 
 k him to 
 rtrhich he 
 nothing 
 if afraid 
 Pell you 
 > on first 
 ters, and 
 
 amissions 
 ig. ' He 
 t always 
 is very 
 y fond of 
 icause he 
 
 absently, 
 
 up like 
 
 reached 
 
 h people 
 
 ro in and 
 
 lience of 
 g for an 
 the door 
 nee, then 
 Fane to 
 ntly did, 
 ig of the 
 
 difficulty he had had in getting his inquiries 
 attended to. 
 
 The delay, however, was not quite so long as his 
 manner would have led Ethel to believe. He had 
 pushed his way to the front with his usual energy, 
 and, asking the French post-mistress for Monsieur 
 Aylmer's letters, had received the handful which she 
 had just picked out at Harry's request. He 
 glanced eagerly over them as he took them :from 
 her. There were three addressed to Miss Hov/ard, 
 one bearing a Canadian stamp, while the other two, 
 one of which was evidently a lawyer's letter, bore 
 English stamps and London post-marks. 
 
 His face clouded over as he surveyed them 
 wistfully, as if he would fain have scanned their 
 contents, * They haven't lost much time, at any 
 rate,' he said to himself, * I hardly thought they 
 would have been quite so prompt. Awfully bad 
 luck for me. Let me see,' he said to himself, as he 
 lingered for a moment at the door, noticing that 
 Miss Howard had gone on; * it can't possibl}' do her 
 any harm to wait a day or two for this, as she's not 
 expecting ; it and it will give me a little mere time. 
 I could tell her all about it some day, when it 
 would only seem a good joke. Nothing could be 
 easier than to drop it into the post-office again in a 
 (lay or two, when it's all settled, and nobody will be 
 a particle the wiser.' 
 
 It has often been remarked that temptation 
 
 
mm 
 
 174 TBE HEIR OF FAJRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 generally awaits him who is ready to be tempted. 
 It was not easy to decide at once. Give her those 
 letters, and how could he have the face to ask her 
 for what he had come so far to secure — what he 
 really, too, wanted so much for its own sake, now 
 that it would not have to be the price of self- 
 denial, but the reverse. He hurriedly obeyed his 
 impulse, thrust the two English letters into his 
 pocket, and walked rapidly on to overtake Miss 
 Howard. 
 
 'Any letters for me? * she inquired, glancing at 
 his httnd, as he overtook her. For answer, he put 
 the handful he held into her hand. 
 
 ' From Marion Lyle,' she remarked, as she looked 
 at the one addressed to herself, ' you will remember 
 her, I am sure, as Marion Evans, our old rector's 
 dauffhter. I came out with her and her husband, 
 and they are settled in a charge in Ontario.' 
 
 ' Oh, indeed,' he replied, abstractedly. * Yes, I 
 remember you once told me that Lyle was engaged 
 to her. Ah, Miss Howard, how happy those old 
 days were, I have never been so happy since ! You 
 don't know how I have lived them over, in memory.' 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Ethel, who could not help respond- 
 in^: when the chord of old home feelinof was 
 touched — ' they were indeed, happy days ! My poor 
 old uncle ! No one can ever be quite like him* 
 
 ' I quite agree with you,' said Fane, warmly, ' he 
 was the best friend I ever had, and nothing can 
 
GRANGE 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 175 
 
 to be tempted. 
 
 Give her those 
 face to ask her 
 icure — what he 
 own sake, now 
 J price of self- 
 idly obeyed his 
 letters into his 
 
 • overtake Miss 
 
 red, glancing at 
 
 • answer, he put 
 
 • 
 
 )d, as she looked 
 J will remember 
 lour old rector's 
 id her husband, 
 Ontario.' 
 itedly. 'Yes, I 
 ^le was engaged 
 lappy those old 
 3py since ! You 
 ver, in memory.' 
 ot help respond- 
 :ie feeling was 
 days! My poor 
 3 like him.' 
 ne, warmly, ' he 
 d nothing can 
 
 blot out the 
 
 of his kindi 
 
 and of the 
 
 memory 01 nis KHianess, 
 dear old place, where I learned to know him and 
 you ! ' They had struck into a quiet piece of private 
 lane, leading up to a side entrance to Mr Aylmer's 
 cottage, and his voice, as he spoke, had sunk into 
 the pleading tone she remembered so well. 
 
 * Ethel,' he continued, still in the same low tone. 
 * You know I felt it would oe selfish in me to bind 
 you down to the uncertainties and cares of a life 
 like mine, but I could never forget you, even had I 
 wished to do so. i felt that it would be the mistake 
 of my life to let you go out of it.' This was strictly 
 true, but the mistake had not pressed heavily on 
 him will within the last fortnight.' 
 
 * And now* he continued, ' now that things are 
 brightening with me, almost beyond my hopes, it 
 has been my first desire to see you again, hoping 
 to find you the same true-hearted Ethel in whose 
 regard for me I once ventured to believe ! ' 
 
 As he spoke, the hot colour rushed to her face 
 and retreated again, leaving her deadly pale. She 
 could not but be moved by the unexpected appeal, 
 by the old familiar tone that once had so much 
 power over her — by the allusion to the old feeling 
 that had been so strong. But that was dead now, 
 beyond all hope of revival, she felt only too surely. 
 Was he then, after all, the constant lover, and hers 
 the shallow fickle sentiment she had so condemned 
 in himself 'i And how could she ever tell him how 
 
It! 
 
 176 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 everything was changed, how her whole inner 
 world was turned upside down ? 
 
 * I though that was all at an end/ she said at last. 
 in a voice unsteady with painful emotion, seeing 
 that h« waited for her to speak. 
 
 ' I did not wish to trammel you,' he said, reproach- 
 fully. * But you know I said the time might come 
 when I might feel able to ask what I could not 
 then.' 
 
 * Oh ! Mr Fane,* she said, with a great effort, 
 ' please don't speak of it any more, I told you then 
 it was to be qyuite at an end, and I have felt it so- 
 There are some things one can't take up again.' 
 
 * Ethel ! ' he said in a tone of deep disappointment 
 and reproach. ' If there were any woman I 
 could have trusted to be true to herself and 
 to those who love her, under any circum- 
 stances, it would have been yourself. And 
 I can't think othei'v^-ise, yet. If I am mistaken, 
 and if, in the course of the few weeks that have 
 passed since we parted, you have learned to love 
 some one else, who loves you, of course I shall say 
 no more. But till you tell me that I must hope. 
 It is natural that you should feel vexed with me, 
 perhaps, because I did not act from impulse, but 
 I thought then that I was acting for the best. I 
 think, now, that I was mistaken; but you surely 
 would not be unforgiving ! Tell me, Ethel, has any 
 one else taken my place ? If so, and he is worthy, 
 
NGE 
 le inner 
 
 id at last, 
 n, seeing 
 
 reproach- 
 crht come 
 could not 
 
 at effort, 
 you then 
 felt it so. 
 igain.' 
 Dointment 
 woman I 
 •self and 
 circum- 
 If. And 
 mistaken, 
 hat have 
 d to love 
 shall say 
 mst h jpG. 
 with me, 
 )ulse, but 
 best. I 
 ou surely 
 i, has any 
 s worthy, 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIBMOUNT GRANGE 177 
 
 I shall respect his rights. If not, I shall wait for 
 an answer till you have had time to think and 
 understand.* 
 
 ' No one has any ** rights ! " Mr Fane,' she said, a 
 little haughtily. ' But indeed, I would rather not 
 pursue the subject. I tl ought it was dropped, 
 finally, last May.' 
 
 * Nay, dear Ethel, he said, imploringly, ' I shall 
 not take an answer now. This has come upon you 
 too suddenly. I shall leave ray plea for your full 
 consideration, before you give me a final reply.* 
 
 T'^ey had arrived at the door of the cottage, and 
 ^^r A. ,' mer and Teddy came up at the same moment, 
 piv.^.^ ling any further private conversation. The 
 three girls w^ere only a little wpv behind, their 
 faces glowing, and their merry tones attesting the 
 stimulating effect of their very cold bath. Even 
 Fanny seemed to have in great measure recovered 
 her usual high spirits. 
 
 There was a little stir of surprise, as Ethel, with 
 all the composure she could assume, made the need- 
 ful introductions. Mr Aylmer, who if he had ever 
 heard of Fane's existence, had long ago forgotten 
 all about him, seemed pleased to meet any of Ethel's 
 friendd, and looked with a benign scrutiny at the 
 young man in whom he at once suspected a possible 
 suitor. Fanny, however, remembered very well 
 what she had heard of him, for Mrs Jocelyn, in her 
 letter to Mrs Aylmer, had dilated a good deal on his 
 
178 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 former attentions to her niece, and on his heartless 
 defection. After a short but comprehensive survey, 
 she set him down at once as a conceited prig, who 
 thought he was doing Ethel a favour in condescend- 
 ing to come out after her, and inwardly hoped that 
 her consin would have nothing to say to him. If 
 she could help it, she should not, that was certain. 
 Miss Bruce, who of course, jumped at conclusions, 
 seemed so pleased with his arrival that Fanny 
 asked her if she were going to set her cap at him 
 now ? ' as she does at Norman,' she thought, ' though 
 she might save herself the trouble, for he would 
 never look at her even if — ' the sentence remained 
 unfinished. It was a curious, half contemptuous 
 liking, after all, that Fanny had for her old school 
 chum and confidante. 
 
 Mrs Aylmer, with many things to occupy her 
 motherly soul, had forgotten all about Edgar Fane, 
 whose name had made but slight impression on her 
 mind. That he was a friend of Ethel's, and that 
 he had been one of her uncle's, of whom he spoke 
 with such warm appreciation, was enough for her. 
 She greeted him with her usual warm kindliness, 
 insisted tha*} he should spend the day with them, 
 and was evidently impressed by his graceful, 
 deferential manner and by the conversational 
 powers which he exerted to the best advantage. 
 Mr Aylmer, who rather missed his wonted society, 
 was by no means sorry to come upon so agreeable 
 
GE 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 179 
 
 heartless 
 e survey, 
 3rig, who 
 idescend- 
 oped that 
 
 him. If 
 LS certain. 
 Delusions, 
 at Fanny 
 ap at him 
 it, ' though 
 
 he would 
 5 remained 
 temptuous 
 
 old school 
 
 (ccupy her 
 d gar Fane, 
 ion on her 
 s, and that 
 n he spoke 
 gh for her. 
 kindliness, 
 with them, 
 is graceful, 
 iversational 
 advantage, 
 ited society, 
 so agreeable 
 
 ( 
 
 a talker, so well posted in current events, literrry 
 gossip, English politics, and other matters in which 
 he was himself interested. The hour or two 
 before the early dinner seemed to pass with 
 unusual rapidity. 
 
 Ethel v.iAS glad to leave them to their talk and 
 escape to her own room, to think in quiet over the 
 unexpected meeting. She had no doubt as to the 
 reply she should give to her old lover. She knew 
 quite well that she did not love him now; even his 
 most earnest pleading had no power to move her ; 
 but she felt almost conscience-stricken that it 
 should be so, and lowered in hei '»wn esteem to 
 think that she could so soon have ' got over ' the 
 love she had once thoufjht so trtie and lastinof. 
 Still more painfully did she feel the embarrassment 
 and pain of making Edgar Fane understand that 
 the old feeling was really dead, that her refusal did 
 not proceed from coyness or ^iqite, but from the 
 utter absence of the love he expected to find 
 unchanged. But when the thought of Mr Stuart 
 forced itself upon her, and she had to confess to 
 herself that the close intercourse she had had with 
 him had been mainly the cause of the disappear- 
 ence of the old attachment, she felt doubly humili- 
 ated. Certainly, she 'niiist be decided in her reply, 
 but she would make the refusal as gentle as she 
 possibly could, the more so, that .he was easily per- 
 suaded that she had been hasty in her judgment of 
 
i8o THE HEIR OF FAIBMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 his conduct, and had done him injustice in her 
 thoughts. 
 
 He, on his side, behaved with the most scrupulous 
 consideration and tact, betraying no desire to press 
 her, a consideration by no means lost upon her, and 
 was, she could not help admitting, a most charming 
 guest, so courteous, so obliging, so easily pleased 
 and entertained. He was delighted with the 
 scenery, and ready to enter into all the enthusiasm 
 of the young people about their favourite points of 
 view. He could make a first-rate descriptive 
 article about it, he declared, it was all so primitive 
 and original. The first day passed rapidly in walks 
 and talks, and the second was spent in the same 
 way, without much opportunity for the tete-a-tete 
 talk which Ethel dreaded. It chanced, however, on 
 the evening of the second day, that the young folks, 
 accompanied by Mr Aylmer, took a walk up the 
 valley, in t^e same direction that Ethel had first 
 walked with Mr Stuart. Fanny monopolised Mr 
 Fane on the outw^ard stroll, with such determina- 
 tion that Ethel wondered whether Kavfinagh were 
 in turn to be superseded. But on the way home- 
 ward, Mr Fane with equal determination, managed 
 to secure Ethel's companionship, and also to linger 
 a little behind the rest. It happened again to be a 
 magnificent sunset, much like that well remem- 
 bered one, when she had walked that same way 
 with Mr Stuart, and the association brought him 
 
7^ 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE i8i 
 
 in 
 
 her 
 
 upulous 
 to press 
 her, and 
 harming 
 
 pleased 
 ath the 
 thusiasm 
 points of 
 jscriptive 
 primitive 
 
 in walks 
 the same 
 tete-a-tete 
 wever, on 
 unjr folks, 
 Ik up the 
 
 had first 
 )olised Mr 
 letermina- 
 naoih were 
 tvay home- 
 1, managed 
 io to linger 
 ;ain to be a 
 ell reraem- 
 
 same way 
 'ouoht him 
 
 so vividly before her, that he seemed almost more 
 real than her present companion, while his earnest 
 voice still echoed in her ears. She could not help 
 feeling the difference between the full flow of 
 sympathy that had characterised their talk, and 
 the effort that it now cost her to listen and reply 
 to Mr Fane. She hardly knew what he said or 
 what she replied. She only felt pained by his per- 
 sistent pleading, and by his determination not to 
 understand that her negative was well considered 
 and final. 
 
 She was thankful when the end of that lonjr 
 painful conversation came at last, and they entered 
 the gate of the cottage. As they did so, a long 
 way behind the rest of the party, she noticed Fanny 
 going up the hill behind the house with a companion 
 who looked strangely familiar. Could it really be 
 Mr Stuart ? But she knew that it was ! He must 
 have arrived unexpectedly, a good deal in advance 
 of the time when he was expected. It was 
 strangely trying and tantalising, with the sound of 
 Edgar Fane's eager pleading in her ears, to see those 
 two setting out on a ' lover's walk,' as they doubt- 
 less were — and why should they not be ? 
 
 Mr Fane had engaged to accompany his host and 
 hostess to visit some friends at the * Lome House ' 
 near the pier, which they set out to do, after a hasty 
 tea, at which neither Fanny nor Mr Stuart 
 appeared. As soon as they had gone, Ethel betook 
 
 . 
 
 A M ^' 
 
i82 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE 
 
 herself to her own room, knowing that the young 
 people would soon be setting out for a ' bonfire ' 
 party in the neighbourhood, from which Ethel had, 
 of course, excused herself. She sat there a good 
 while alone, to rest after the strain of the w^alk, 
 and try to throw off thoughts that seemed too much 
 for her, wishing also to avoid the necessity of 
 talking to Mr Stuart just then, when he and Fanny 
 returned together. She heard the little bustle of 
 departure, and thought she noticed that Fanny's 
 gay tones were a little ]ess gay than usual. Wait- 
 ing till all was quiet, and all had, as she thought, 
 departed, she went down stairs and opened the 
 piano, to relieve a little the oppression on her 
 heart, by putting a little of the sadness she felt 
 into the plaintive strains of Mendelssohn's Lieder 
 ohne Worte. By-and-bye, she strayed into the 
 ' Moonlight Sonata,* suggested by the flood of 
 silvery radiance that had begun to pour in through 
 the open window into the otherwise unlighted 
 room. As she ceaseu playing at last, she was 
 surprised to hear a sigh, and a slight movement in 
 a distant corner of the room. She looked up, 
 startled, and, at the same moment, Mr Stuart rose 
 from an armchair in which he had been reclining, 
 hidden completely by the shadow cast by a door 
 that stood ajar. 
 
 * I thought you had gone out with the others ! ' 
 she exclaimed, after the first surprised greeting. 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIR MOV NT GRANGE 183 
 
 ' I saw you out with Fanny, as I came in from our 
 walk.' 
 
 'I was not very long with her,' he replied. 
 ' Fanny was anxious to be off to her * bonfire' party, 
 for which I had no inclination ; and I was sitting 
 here when you came down. As you did not see me, 
 I thought I would remain incognito, and enjoy 
 your music — perhaps more of it than I should have 
 had if you had known I was here. I have never 
 forgotten the delight 1 iiad from it on my last 
 visit. You will forgive the liberty, will you not?* 
 
 ' Oh, certainly,' she said, * if you really enjoyed 
 it ; but I thought you were not expected quite so 
 soon.' 
 
 ' Nor was I,' he replied, hesitating a moment, and 
 then went on, almost hurriedly : ' I found I could 
 get away a little sooner than I had thought — and 
 I can't bear suspense ! I wanted to know just how 
 things stood 1 Fanny's letters have been very 
 unsatisfactory, and Kavanagh was in such wretched 
 spirits, that — at last — I got the truth out of him, 
 and the end of it is. Miss Howard, I have offered 
 Fanny her freedom, and she has gladly accepted it.* 
 
 With the exception of an involuntary expression 
 of surprise, Ethel made no reply. She was, indeed, 
 afraid to trust her voice. Nor did she know 
 exactly what to say, not being sure whether con- 
 dolence was in place, and not being able to express 
 
 W.n 
 
i84 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 m 
 
 a regret she did nob really feel, except for his 
 supposed disappointment. 
 
 'You know what was my theory about such 
 matters/ he added, half smiling. * I seem to have 
 falsified my own principles. But I think I see 
 now that I was wrong in letting Fanny pledge 
 herself to me so young — poor child ! perhaps, 
 indeed, I hardly knew myself, then. To her it was 
 clearly impossible to give what I looked for, and 
 my affection was only a burden to her, especially 
 of late. I have no doubt she will be happier with 
 my cousin than I could ever have made her ! I 
 have something in view for him that will, I think 
 just suit him, and I hope it will not be very hard 
 to reconcile Mr and Mrs Aylmer to the new de- 
 parture. It is on dear Mrs Aylmer's account that 
 I mind it most, and I think it was half my affection 
 for her that influenced me at first. She is a fond 
 mother, and will be satisfied with anything that is 
 likely to make her darling happy.' 
 
 There was a short silence. Ethel could not 
 force herself to discuss the subject. Presently, how- 
 ever, Mr Stuart sent her thoughts on a different 
 track, by observing, with a suggestion of constraint 
 in his voice, * I don't know whether I ought not to 
 congratulate yow, Miss Howard. I hear you have 
 an English friend here, and, if what Miss Bruce 
 avers is true — * 
 
 ' No ! no ! ' she exclaimed hastily, replying to the 
 
 iiiii 
 
THE UElll OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 185 
 
 first pHrt of his remark, and ignoring the second, 
 * Mr Fane is merely an old friond — and nothing 
 I' 
 
 more 
 
 He was studying lier face, clearly visible in the 
 moonlight, with a look that — could she have seen 
 it — was full of a wistful questioning. ' Then, Ethel,' 
 — it seemed to say. But how could he, who had 
 been the betrothed of her cousin only an hour 
 before, ask her to accept him now ? * 
 
 But the Ute-dj-tetey which had become somewhat 
 embarrassing, was interrupted by the return of the 
 senior division of the party, and soon after by the 
 rest. Mrs Aylmer was, of course, delighted to find 
 Norman returned, and he and Mr Fane were duly 
 introduced, and after a mutual scrutiny, were soon 
 engaged in animated conversation. 
 
 Fanny looked into her cousin's room that evening, 
 on her return from the party. She was evidently 
 a little flurried, was in high spirits, and looking 
 her best. * What 1 not gone to bed yet ? ' she said. 
 We had such a jolly party. Mr Fane came in for 
 a while, as he had promised me, and everyone 
 thinks him delightful. If yovu won't have anything 
 to say to him, I think I must take pity on him 
 myself! Oh! by the way, I wanted to tell you; 
 my engagement to Norman is broken off ! Good- 
 night ! ' 
 
 I 
 
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 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
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 i/x>^ 
 
'fi 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 'I'm sure I can't understand what has come over 
 Fanny 1 ' said Mrs Aylmer, to Ethel, detaining her 
 after the others had left the breakfast table, and 
 had gone out to enjoy the fresh breezy morning 
 air. 
 
 Ethel did her best to console her aunt for her 
 very natural disappointment, saying all the good 
 she could of Mr Kavanagh, his talents, his 
 amiability, his literary enthusiasm, and prophe- 
 sying that he would prove an excellent husband for 
 Fanny, and that he would make his mark yet, with 
 such a stimulus to steady him and awaken him to 
 the responsibilities of life. Of course nothing had 
 been said to Fanny in reference to him, nor would 
 the subject be referred to until he should speak 
 himself. But Mr Stuart had felt it necessary to 
 confide to her parents all he knew, as well as all 
 he suspected. 
 
 Their talk was interrupted by Harry's entrance 
 with a pile of letters for the household, and Mrs 
 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIR MOUNT GRANGE 187 
 
 Aylmer was soon deep in a long letter from Mrs 
 Jocelyn. Suddenly she dropped the letter and 
 looked up with an exclamation. 'Oh/ she cried, 
 ' how kud. Poor young man ! My dear child, how 
 strange that you have not been written to.* 
 
 ' Why, what is it, Aunt Caroline ? ' she exclaimed. 
 
 'Why, my dear, Mrs Jocelyn says that your 
 cousin, Jack Howard is dead — was found dead with 
 his revolver beside him. He must have shot him- 
 self in a tit of low spirits, after the " D. T's. " she says, 
 And he left a scrawl addressed to Ethel, which 
 Mr Grimshaw was to send when ho wrote. I sup- 
 pose the poor creature couldn't endure his wretched 
 life any longer. Dear me, how dreadfully sad! 
 "But it's a piece of great good fortune for Ethel," 
 she read on ; " Miss Ponsonby wrote by last mail, 
 so / did not think it necessary to do so. Please 
 give her our love and congratulations. I suppose 
 we shall see her back soon, as there will be a great 
 deal to attend to, of course. Clara and I will be 
 delighted to see her here, on her way to take her 
 own proper place again." ' 
 
 Ethel sat almost stunned by this most unlooked 
 for piece of intelligence. She scarcely realised the 
 consequences to herself, so shocked did she feel at 
 the tidings of this tragic close to her cousin's wasted 
 life. 
 
 'But it's really very rdd that you haven't heard 
 yet from your uncle's lawyer, this Mr Grimshaw,* 
 
,sv, ■■ 
 
 II ' 
 
 1 88 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 said Mrs Aylmer, after a few moments' silence, * nor 
 from your cousin, Miss Ponsonby either. We must 
 inquire particularly at the post-oflBce, for 1 got 
 some letters by last mail. Sometimes they are a 
 little negligent. Someone else may have got it by 
 mistake. Well, well, how strangely things turn 
 out sometimes. But, my darling, we shall be so 
 sorry to lose you,' and she bent over Ethel in a 
 loving embrace, which her niece warmly returned, 
 for her aunt had won a large share of her uncle's 
 place in her heart. 
 
 But a strange thought had darted into Ethel's 
 mind, while her aunt was speaking, a thought that 
 she hated herself for entertaining for a moment^ 
 But it would not go. Could Edgar Fane have 
 known of this ? She would not let herself think 
 so. And yet the coincidence was strange. She 
 could not help watching his manner, when Mrs 
 Aylmer hurried out to the lawn to proclaim the 
 news. He certainly expressed surprise, and in a 
 manner that seemed natural enough, but with her 
 newly aroused suspicions, she could not feel that it 
 was genuine. And Fanny darted a glance at him, 
 which, to Ethel, seemed to reflect her own thought. 
 He congratulated Miss Howard with subdued 
 empressement, but added, in a sorrowful aside, 
 meant for fier ear alone — ' This, of course, precludes 
 my further pleading my cause. I must leave it 
 now in your hands.* 
 
\NGE 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOVNT GRANGE 189 
 
 ilence, ' nor 
 We must 
 for 1 got 
 they are a 
 ve got it by 
 things turn 
 shall be so 
 Ethel in a 
 ily returned, 
 I her uncle's 
 
 into Ethel's 
 thought that 
 r a moment, 
 r Fnne have 
 erself think 
 itrange. She 
 •, when Mrs 
 Toclaim the 
 se, and in a 
 Ibut with her 
 it feel that it 
 lance at him, 
 own thought, 
 ith subdued 
 •owful aside, 
 •oe, precludes 
 ust leave it 
 
 Mr Ay liner and Mr Stuart were not present, 
 having set off directly after breakfast for a long 
 "amble among the hills, the latter feeling that his 
 presence in the circumstances in which Fanny and 
 he stood, might be a little embarrassing while Mr 
 Aylmer and he had naturally many things to 
 discuss. Mrs Aylmer had therefore to wait as 
 patiently as she could for her husband's return, to 
 share with him this wonderful news. 
 
 * Where is Mr Fane 1 ' asked Fanny, coming 
 down with her hat on, an hour later, of Miss Bruce, 
 who had been playing lawn-tennis with him and 
 the boys, while she and Ethel had been talking 
 over the changed situation. 
 
 'Gone down to the hotel to see a friend,' was 
 the reply. ' And where are you going ? ' 
 
 * To the post office, with Ethel, to inquire for 
 those missing letters.' 
 
 * It was not long before they returned without 
 having got any satisfaction, the people at the 
 post-office declaring that they knew nothing of 
 them. But, during the forenoo.i, a messenger 
 brought them to the house, saying that they muHt 
 have been dropped into the box that morning, by 
 some one who had taken them out by mistake. 
 Ethel remembered only too well how Mr Fane had 
 received the letters for the family for her, only two 
 days before, but she shared the natural conclusion 
 with no one, not even with Fanny, who was vaguely 
 
Hp 
 
 ■RTTT 
 
 « 
 
 ^R 
 
 
 
 Bvl ^ "*- 
 
 
 
 P!'J 
 
 
 i! 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 Vi'\ ^' ' ' ' 
 
 
 ] 
 
 iif.i-, ' I 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 cf'jl/ 
 
 
 
 Vfi- 
 
 
 
 h'^' ' 
 
 
 
 **' 
 
 
 
 ?'■- :■ 
 
 
 :| 
 
 Ki'' 
 
 
 j 
 
 
 
 ■I 
 
 i^^ 
 
 190 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOONT GRANGE 
 
 suspicious, so that the matter outwardly passed off 
 as an accident. 
 
 A canoe-party and picnic in company with some 
 of their neighbours, had been planned for that 
 afternoon, and they were just starting from the 
 vicinity of the cottage, when Mr Aylmer and Mr 
 Stuart returned from their walk. Mr Fane had 
 been ambitious of acquiring the a^t of managing 
 a canoe, and had spent most of the preceding day 
 in practising paddling, with Teddy and Harry 
 Aylmer. He ' had got on^rsirafe,' the boys declared, 
 and now claimed the honour of paddling Miss 
 Howard up the river to their rendezvous. She 
 saw no good reason for refusing. To do so would 
 wound his self-esteem, and to accept would be the 
 last favour she would ever be likely to have the 
 opportunity of granting him. After that day, 
 they were not likely to meet often, and she knew 
 that he would have more regard for appearances 
 than to urge his suit any further now. She stiU 
 had enough of the old kindly feeling left, to be 
 sincerely sorry for his severe disappointment, even 
 while she feared that in his eagerness to secure his 
 object he had been tempted to conduct which he 
 would once have scorned as utterly beneath him. 
 As to his ability to manage the canoe, she took his 
 word and that of the boys without hesitation, and 
 indeed bestowed very little thought on that some- 
 what important question. 
 
UNGE 
 
 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 191 
 
 Y passed off 
 
 T with some 
 gd for thai 
 g from the 
 mer and Mr 
 [r Fane had 
 )f managing 
 receding day 
 and Harry 
 ;oys declared, 
 iddling Miss 
 ezvous. She 
 » do so would 
 would be the 
 r to have the 
 er that day, 
 ind she knew 
 appearances 
 w. She still 
 ig left, to be 
 intment, even 
 to secure his 
 uct which he 
 beneath him. 
 she took his 
 esitation, and 
 on that some- 
 
 ' Are yov, not going too, Stuart,' asked Mr Aylmer, 
 as they stood by and watched the pretty little 
 flotilla about to start. 
 
 ' No,* he replied, * I'm rather heavy for one of 
 these little egg-shells, and indeed,' he added, 
 uneasily, ' I always feel a little uneasy when I see 
 the girls embarking in them, though they laugh at 
 my old-fashioned ideas, and declare there is no 
 danger. Perhaps,' he called out, * I may walk up 
 and join you at your picnic ground. But are you 
 sure you quite understand canoeing. Fane?' he 
 asked, looking on rather anxiously as the latter 
 assisted Ethel to settle herself on the gay cushions 
 in the bottom of the canoe. 
 
 ' Oh, I think so,' he replied, carelessly, and some- 
 what curtly ; ' a fellow who has been coxswain in 
 a Cambridge eight, ought to be able to paddle his 
 own canoe.' 
 
 * A non aequitur^ replied Stuart. ' Well,be care- 
 ful, and hon voyage.' He looked after them, how- 
 ever, with an anxious and unsatisfied glance. 
 
 Suddenly he exclaimed to Mr Aylmer, ' I don't 
 like the look of things out there,' and hurrying to 
 a skiff that lay moored close by, he jumped into it, 
 wrenched it loose, e.nd pushed it off without further 
 ceremony — following at a little distance in the 
 wake of the last canoe, containing Ethel and Fane. 
 It was well that be did so. Fane got on very well 
 so long as they were in smooth and shallow water, 
 
I9a THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 but as they proceeded up stream, the rapidity of 
 
 the current carried them near one of the occasional 
 
 boulders in the shallow river. As they approached 
 
 one of these rather closely, Fane not finding that 
 
 the canoe answered his paddle as he desired, made 
 
 a sudden movement of impatience in the attempt 
 
 to give the boulder a wide berth ; and Ethel 
 
 startled by the sudden lurch, moved towards the 
 
 same side, and grasped the side of the canoe. 
 
 Instantly, the frail bark was over, and both its 
 
 occupants in the water. Fane could swim fairly 
 
 well, but had no idea how to save another. He 
 
 lost his head for a moment, hastily made for the 
 
 canoe, which was floating off bottom upward, and 
 
 then bethought himself of looking round for Ethel. 
 
 But she had been already grasped by a strong 
 
 arm, and Mr St* art holding her up with one hand, 
 
 soon reached the shallower water, where they 
 
 could wade to the nearer shore. The shock of the 
 
 sudden immersion had left Ethel half stunned, 
 
 but Mr Stuart half supported half carried her to 
 
 the grassy bank, where he gently laid her down, 
 
 supporting her head on his breast, while, in that 
 
 moment of excited feeling, throwing off the restraint 
 
 he had imposed on himself so long, he pressed his 
 
 lips to her forehead, exclaiming, 'Ethel, my 
 
 darling I may I not claim you for my own, now \ * 
 • • • t • • 
 
 A few days later, the bustle of the preparations 
 
 ■Pi' 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT ORANGE 193 
 
 for leaving the cottage had begun. The Aylmers 
 were about to take leave of their pleasant summer 
 quarters. Mr Fane, disappointed in his cherished 
 plan, and mortified by the signal failure of his last 
 effort, had made a desperate attempt to win the 
 favour of Fanny, who had recklessly led him on, 
 in order to ' avenge her cousin,' though even inde- 
 pendently of that motive, it is doubtful whether 
 she could have resisted the temptation of flirting 
 with 80 attractive a young man. But he soon 
 found he could make no further progress, and was 
 obliged to depart, crestfallen, to console himself as 
 well as he could with the execution of his 
 journalistic commission, the less ostensible object 
 of his journey having proved so fruitless, Ethel's 
 betrothal to Mr Stuart, sudden as it appeared to 
 all but the observant Miss Bruce, greatly helped to 
 reconcile Mrs Aylrner to losing him for a son-in- 
 law. At least, * it kept him in the family,' she said, 
 ' and no doubt Ethel was better suited to him than 
 Fanny would have been.* 
 
 On the evening before the general break-up, Mr 
 Stuart and Ethel sat together on the hill side, en- 
 joying a last view of the beautiful bay and river, 
 and the noble hills that would henceforth be 
 associated with some of their sweetest recollections. 
 They talked of the new life that was opening before 
 them, after the quiet wedding which was soon to 
 
 take place at Mr Aylmer's home in Toronto, and 
 
 N 
 
Ul 
 
 194 TIIK UEIR OF FAIRMOVNT ORANOK 
 
 thon iiH soon as Mr Stuart could arranfro for a short 
 absonce, he was to accompany his wife to England, 
 to make some necessary arrangements at Fairmount 
 Orange. 
 
 • And you're sure you won't try to tempt mo to 
 give up an active life, and settle down in the 
 capacity of iivajor-domo in this little paradise?* 
 asked Mr Stuart, looking smilingly at his betrothed. 
 
 ' No,' she replied, earnestly, ' I shall never ask you 
 to let any power lie idle for my pleasure. Besides,' 
 she added with a momentary look of deep sadness, 
 * I never can quite get over the feeling that the 
 Grange is a sort of Aceldama, the price of life.' 
 
 •My dear girl,' he replied, 'you must put that 
 thouglit out of your mind. You are in no sense 
 responsible for that poor fellow's mental and 
 moral shipwreck. You could not possibly have 
 acted otherwise, and, perhaps the manner of his 
 taking off had after all a higher touch about it 
 than his wretched life, for at least he seemed to 
 desire good to you through his death. That 
 pathetic little scrawl he left shows germs of latent 
 good that, who knows, may yet be developed in a 
 more kindly atmosphere. Don't suppose I mean 
 to defend suicide, but the poor fellow was scarcely 
 responsible, and what is sin in one may not be 
 equally sin in another whose ideas are entirely 
 different. You know I have great faith in the 
 breadth and depth of the divine love that flows 
 
THE HEIR OF FAIR MOUNT GRANGE 195 
 
 for a short 
 to England, 
 , Fairmount 
 
 ticmpt mo to 
 :)wn in the 
 paradise ? * 
 is betrothed, 
 [jver ask you 
 •0. Besides,' 
 lecp sadness, 
 in^ tiuit the 
 e of life.' 
 list put that 
 in no sense 
 n\cntal and 
 OHsibly have 
 lanner of his 
 ich about it 
 e seemed to 
 ath. That 
 ns of latent 
 veloped in a 
 ose I mean 
 as scarcely 
 ay not be 
 ,re entirely 
 ;aith in the 
 that flows 
 
 round our incompleteness, just as that incoming 
 tide flows round that stranded vessel and floats it 
 on its way.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Ethel, ' I like that image. And 
 I know we must not judge others of whose hearts 
 we can know so little. Only, as the Grange has 
 come to me in so painful a way, I could hardly 
 bear to keep it for mere selfish pleasure. I have 
 been thinking how it would do to put Aunt 
 Ponsonby in charge there, and let it be a place to 
 which some of the poor sickly London mothers and 
 children could come for a little change and fresh 
 air. We could visit it as often as you could get 
 away, and it might bring a little happiness into 
 some sad lives, and be the means of making some 
 lives better, of helping some, perhaps, to escape the 
 fate of my poor cousin ! My aunt is a very kind- 
 hearted woman, and has no object or special 
 interest in life, so I think it would benefit her^ too. 
 That would be bringing good out of evil, would it 
 not?' 
 
 ' Indeed it would, dear,' he replied. * It's a noble 
 thought, at any rate, and looks by no means imprac- 
 ticable, though some people no doubt would think 
 it utter folly. It's worthy of you to plan it.' 
 
 ' But it was from you that I first learned to think 
 of these things at all,' exclaimed Ethel, looking up, 
 with a smile. ' It was you who first taught me 
 that true life is life lived for others ; and now that 
 
196 THE HEIR OF FAIRMOUNT GRANGE 
 
 I am so happy myself, you will help me to live 
 that life, won't you ? ' 
 
 * God helping me, I will, my darling,' he replied, 
 drawing her closer to him. And the evening 
 shadows stole gently down around them, gradually 
 blotting out the outlines of the landsoar^e, while 
 above them the stars shone brightly out, opening 
 as it were, a way into the infinite beyond. 
 
 THE END 
 
 III 
 
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