(5/e ly r\- £\/e r e l~h (£) rcer\ m sS" ^^Ayz/p /4^^/ PJ^-^^tn^ /Z^ 'C^2^ ^ /s one may say, to self-denial, and it comes hard on a man to change his ways when they've become second nature." Eyton, who had listened with great interest to all this, now drew himself up proudly. " But my uncle is Sir Aylmer Desborough. He is not like other people. He would always keep to what he had resolved, even if it were hard. You ought to know that better than I." Bunyard smiled a little. " Well, sir, the Desboroughs have always good strong wills of their own, and my master he has passed his word to take no more of it, so I'm in hopes he may be able to keep from it ; but it Mill be harder than you can understand, young gentleman. He has grown to depend on it for his night's rest, and the best part of his hours of ease and comfort." " But I am sure he will keep his promise," asserted Eyton eagerly. " Oh ! I am quite sure of that." Presently he asked another question : — " Why does my uncle sleep down here ? Is it because he is ill ? " " Well, yes, in part it is. Some days he finds the 138 >S7A' AYLMER. stairs a trouble, and he's a man that cannot bear to keep his bed. He must get up and into another room, however bad he be. So the only way of making him comfortable is to get him rooms on one level. I thought he'd have taken to be upstairs altogether ; but no, he will be down here. He took a fancy to the library from seeing it warm and cheerful when he arrived, and there he means to live, and here he means to sleep. It will be handy for him when he is well enough to walk out, but it's rather dreary for other things." " I like the library. I sit there a great deal. I wonder if Uncle Aylmer will mind my coming in when he is there ? " Bunyard looked the boy over from head to foot. " Well, sir, there's no telling what will please Sir Aylmer when he's in his moods. You can but try. He isn't used to much company but his own; but then maybe he is getting rather tired of that. You must do as you think best about that, sir." At this moment Mrs. Mansfield's voice was heard at the door asking for Master Eyton. " Bless the child ! he would starve himself and be none the wiser for it, I do believe, once he gets an idea into his head. Now run upstairs — there's a good boy. Jane is taking up a bit of supper, and you had better go to bed when you have had it. We're too busy down here to have children racketing about." And as Eyton disappeared in obedience to the hint — -S7A' AYLMELl. 130 for he was really hungry by this time, though he had not thought about it .so far — she turned to Bunyard and said, — " I'm main afraid what the master will say to him. He's the very image of his poor manuna, though he's a true Desborough too ; and he's that set on his uncle, as he thinks there's no one in the world like him. It goes against me to see him disappointed and took up short ; but if I'm not mistaken. Sir Aylmer won't be able to bear setting eyes on the child." " Ah well, we shall see. Sir Aylmer seldom takes a thing in the way folks expect." Mrs. Mansfield drew a step nearer. " It seems to me that the master has got death in his face. I never saw any one so changed." " He has been very ill, and still is, but I'm in hopes that English air will set him up yet." But Mrs. Mansfield shook her head. In common with the rest of her class, she took a strange pleasure in gloomy prognostication. " I never see'd a creature live long who looks as the master does now. I've just been into him, thinking as the hoy might have ventured in, and it fairly gave me a turn, that it did. Oh, there's death in that face, if ever there was in any one's. I wonder you can't see it plain for yourself, Mr. Bunyard." " I've seen him much worse times and again, ami then he'll be better for a long spell. ' A creaking- door hangs long,' the proverb says." 140 /^IB AYLMER. " Ay, and ' 'tis a long lane that has no turning,' " retorted Mrs. Mansfield, not quite certain of the bearing of her remark, but resolved to cap one proverb with another. " Anyway, the longest life is bound to come to an end some day ; and when Sir Aylmer's turn comes, that lad will step into his shoes. He knows that as well as I do, and I am main afraid he will not be able to bear the sight of the child." " We shall see, we shall see," was Bunyard's sage reply, and there the subject dropped. XII. EYTON'S DECISION. HOW is my uncle ?" was Ey ton's eager question, as he descended to the kitchen next morning contrary to his usual custom. But he was too excited to wait quietly upstairs as usual ; besides he did not exactly know what was to be the order of the day now, and he had some faint hope that he and his uncle would breakfast together. Mrs. Mansfield was standing over the fire, making something that Eyton took for a pancake. " He's had no rest all night, Mr. Bunyard says, and I don't expect he's very pleasant company this morn- ing. He's sent down an omelet already for being- burnt, though 'twas only one tiny corner that caught the fire ; and Mr. Bunyard makes his coffee himself in an outlandish little stove thing, or else his master would never drink it, he says. We're going to have fine times of it now, I can see. But he's the master, and he's a sick man, so we must make allowances. Men is but poor things at best ; they never know how to be ill.^' 142 EYTON'S DECISION. Eyton had the rejected omelet for his breakfast, and found it very good. Then he visited Red Rover in his stable, and told him the news ; after which he wandered about a little while in the garden, for it was a mild, sunny morning and pleasant out of doors. But he missed King's company, and wondered what had taken the hound away, for he had never failed before to join him at the stable, even if he had not found his way upstairs earlier in the day. He supposed King had gone to see Sir Aylraer, and had stayed with him, and after a little hesitation Eyton resolved to follow his example. By this time the stable clock was striking ten, and the boy approached the library by the terrace path that lay in front of the windows. When he had reached the first, he paused and pressed his face against the glass. Yes, his uncle was there, in the same chair he had occupied last night. Eyton un- latclied the casement and walked in. " Good-morning, uncle. Are you any better ? I am so sorry you have had a bad night." There was no response. Sir Aylmer was lying back in his chair with closed eyes, and his face looked more than ever like yellow parchment. King lay on the floor at his feet, and flopped his tail vigorously at the sound of his little master's voice. Eyton sat down beside him on the rug, and took the animal's head on his knee. He sat silent for a good while, following out his /•JVTUX'.S DECISIUX. 143 own train of thought, and presently he asked a question : — " Uncle Aylmer, Avhen yon and papa were little boys and lived here, did King belong to j'ou or to him ? " At first it seemed as if there were to be no answer to this question; but Eyton waited very patiently, and presently the weary eyes unclosed. " He was given to us both when he was a puppy ; he was the last of the old race of Desborough blood- hounds. Your father was a lad, and made a great deal of him and trained him ; Init when he left home so much the creature attached itself to me. He seems to have an excellent memory. It is a good thing human beings are not all Ijlessed in the same way." All this was spoken very slowly, and with long- pauses, but Eyton drank in every ^^'ord. " Why ? " he asked at the conclusion. " It would be a bad thing for some of us, if we could not forget." " Do you forget much ? " A sort of spasm crossed the invalid's face. " As for that," he said slowly, " I am not so good at it as some people are." It was almost like one of the child's old dreams to be sitting there and talking to his uncle at will. Eyton forgot all past fears and misgivings, and pulling gently at King's silky ears, he began to give utterance to his feelings. 144 EYTOX\S DECISION. " I think I am rather glad that you don't forget, uncle, because there are so many things I want to ask you about. Let me see now. I will count them up on my fingers," and he proceeded to do so very gravely. " First, I want to know all about you and papa, and what you both did when you were little boys. And then I want to know about mamma, and how pretty she was, and how fond you were of her, and every single thing you can tell me about her. Then I want to know all about where you have been when you have been travelling, and the things you saw and did. And then I want to know — " Here Eyton stopped suddenly short, and it was a long time before he finished his sentence : — " I want to know about my father, and how you went to him in Egypt when he was dying, and what he said, and if he sent any message to me." It was with an effort that Eyton got out these last words, for the thought of his father dying away in that far-off" land always brought the tears into his eyes and a lump in his throat. He did not look up at his uncle after he had spoken, and so he started as he heard the sharp sound of the little hand-gong that always stood at Sir Aylmer's right hand. Bunyard came quickly in answer to the summons. '■ Take that child away," was the curt command. " He tires me." Bunyard gave the boy a look, and Eyton slowly EY TON'S DECISION. 14r, rose to his feet with flaming cheeks and smarting eyes, and followed the man out of the room ; but it was with a feeling of profound humiliation, for why- had his uncle not told him to go ? Why had he called a servant to eject him ? The man seemed to divine the boy's mortification, and when they stood outside the door, he said kindly, — " Never you mind, young sir ; it's only the master's odd way. He never does things like other folks, but he don't mean no harm. He's never at his best of a morning, least of all after such a bad night as he's had." " If he had told me he did not want to talk, I would have gone away," said Eyton. " I thought perhaps he was dull all alone. I am dull sometimes, and then I like somebody to come in and talk to me." " He'll like it too, maybe, by-and-by. But he's a bit distracted this morning, and there are so many things about the house to set him thinking. He isn't quite himself, you see. It's an odd thing to come back to a home when you've been ten years and more away, and when so many things have happened in between." So Eyton let himself be a little consoled, but it was not for some little time that he ventured again into his uncle's presence. He spent the rest of that day wandering about the house, thinking of Sir (IGS) 10 146 EY TON'S DECISION. Aylmer, and longing for a summons to his room, which summons never came. He did not even care to ride Red Rover, lest his uncle should send for him when he was out ; and as Dick was too busy for his usual lesson, and Mrs. Mansfield was in the state she described as " druv," he was more lonely than ever all that day, and went to bed in a decidedly depressed state. Next day things appeared to be no better. Eyton hung about the downstair doors, and tried to get a glimpse at his uncle, but he did not succeed in his attempt ; and Bunyard looked grave and worried, and told the boy that Sir Aylmer appeared worse, and was in severe pain, which none of the new medicines did anything to relieve. The faithful servant was plainly much afraid that the invalid would insist on returning to the use of the drug which was so bad for him in other ways. He advised Eyton not to attempt to go into the room, as his master was in no mood for con- versation. About three o'clock the boy saw Dick harnessing old Dobbin to the spring-cart, and going down to the stable-yard to inquire what was going on, he was told that Mr. Bunyard wished to be driven into the town to get some things that Sir Aylmer desired to have in case of need. Eyton watched them drive away, and then wandered indoors, finding his way as if by instinct to the hall, and to the half-open library door. Inside the door EYTON'S DECISION. 147 was a tall screen that effectually concealed the greater part of the room from the view of any one standing just within. Eyton thought that he would take up his post there until Bunyard's return. His uncle was ill, and might need something ; and the chances were that he would be unable to make any one hear if he called or rang his gong ever so loudly. The child leaned silently against the door-post, and waited patiently. For a long time the room was so intensely still that he fancied the patient slept ; but presently a low, deep groan, that spoke of weariness and pain, smote upon his ears, making him start and tremble. Another groan, and he could stand it no longer, but advanced noiselessly into the room. "Can I do anything for you, uncle ? Are you wanting anything ? " Slowly the dim eyes unclosed and fixed themselves upon the child's earnest face. A sort of spasm crossed the countenance of the sick man. " Madelaine, is it you ? " he said very faintly. Eyton was perplexed and a little frightened. Madelaine had been his mother's name, but he did not think of that. He had no idea how like his face was just at this moment to the pictured face on the wall. Something in the look of his eyes was strangely like his mother's, and Sir . Aylmer's own were dim with faintness and want of sleep. " I am your nephew, Eyton Desborough," he said slowly and distinctly. " I am so sorry you are ill. 148 EY TON'S DECISION. Bunyard has gone out, and I don't like you to be alone. May I sit with you till he comes back ? " " If you like." Delighted with this permission, Eyton took a stool and sat down near the hearth. He put the fire together with a few skilful touches, and watched the dancing flames for a good while in silence ; then he turned and looked at his uncle, wondering if he might talk a little to him. But when he saw the look upon his face, he felt sure that the pain was very bad, and though Eyton did not know much about pain himself, he was very tender-hearted, and could not bear to see any one suffer. So he got up, and came and stood close to Sir Aylmer's chair. " Uncle, can't I do anything for you ? " There was no answer. " Isn't there anything I can get to make you better ?" Suddenly the patient's eyes unclosed ; a new look passed into the wan face. The man stirred a little in his chair, and raised himself slightly. " Well, yes, I think there is something," he said at length, a look of settled purpose coming over him. " We will try at all events. Do you know the room I sleep in, boy ? " " Yes, uncle." " And do you know a small walnut- wood, brass- bound chest that stands on the top of a low book-case between the windows ? " EY TON'S DEC rS ION. 149 " I've seen it, uncle." Sir Aylmer took a bunch of keys from his pocket, and selected a small one with complex wards. " Go to that little chest and unlock a drawer at the bottom. In the drawer you will find a blue fluted bottle half full. Bring it to me." Eyton, delighted to be made useful, ran off on his errand, and quickly found what was desired. He locked up the medicine chest again, and was running eagerly back with the bottle, when a sudden un- welcome thought presented itself, and caused him to stop short in the middle of the room. Could it be that this bottle contained the soothing- medicine that Sir Aylmer had been ordered not to take, and which he had promised to give up ? Could it be that he was taking advantage of Bunyard's ab- sence to obtain a dose of the druo- which his servant would be loath to administer ? The doubt seemed treason, yet it would present itself, and Eyton trembled with dismayed distress. The very bottle itself was labelled " Poison." Could he be doing right in taking it to his uncle ? But then perhaps he was not going to drink it. It might be only a lotion or something of that kind. Ey ton's courage and hopefulness returned at that thought, and he went back to the library with the bottle in his hand. " Is this it, uncle ? " " Yes ; give it to me." 150 EYTON'S DECISION. " Can't I pour it out for you ? I am very careful." " Very well. I daresay your hand is steadier than mine. You see that measuring glass on the table ? Well, take it and pour thirty drops into it — that is about half a teaspoonful. You will see by the figures where to stop. Then fill it with water and bring it to me." " Are you going to drink it ? " " It is usual to drink physic, is it not ? " A deep flush had overspread Ey ton's face. He put the bottle down on the table, and took a step towards the patient, his hands closely locked together, " Uncle," he said breathlessly, " is that the medicine that the clever doctor said you were not to take ? " Sir Aylmer's face contracted sharply. " What do you mean, sir ? " " Please don't be angry, uncle. I daresay it isn't. Indeed I'm almost sure it isn't, because I knoiv you would never break your promise. Only it came into my head, and I just asked. Please, forgive me." " I don't know what you are talking about," said Sir Aylmer with a sombre glance. " I heard Bunyard talking ; he talks to Mrs. Mans- field, and sometimes to me. I heard about the drops you took to make you better, but which really made you worse, and how you had promised not to take any more — " " Servants'-hall gossip ! " muttered the baronet with his cold sneer. " A fine thing truly for the heir of ErnLV's DECJSioy. loi the Desboroughs to have nothing better to Hsten to than servants' chatter ! " " You see there is nobody else to talk to except you, uncle, and you only came two days ago," was the ingenuous reply. " And your servants are par- ticularly nice." " Are you going to give nie my medicine ? " " Oh, it is your medicine, is it ? " cried Eyton, re- lieved. " I am so sorry I ever thought it was those drops. It was very stupid of me, because, of course, I ought to have known that yoii would never break a promise. I told Bunyard so." " And what did he say ? " " I don't quite remember. I know he made me rather angry. He didn't seem so sure as I was ; and he ought to have been surer." " Why ? " " Because he knew you better. But then he evi- dently didn't understand you. Perhaps it is because he doesn't think about you so much as I do." Sir Aylmer's eyes were fixed upon the boy's ab- sorbed face. " You've only known me two days. You can't have thought about me long." " Oh, but I began as soon as I got here. I think about you every day. When I read about men like Bayard — without fear and without reproach — I al- ways think of you. That's wh}^ I wanted so much to know you. I wanted to know a man who was 152 EYTON'S DECISION. really great — really a hero. And for any one to talk as if you would break your promise — it made me very angry." By this time the thirty drops were accurately measured, and the water had been duly added. " Here is your medicine," said Eyton, advancing with the glass. " Will it make the pain better ? " " It will, if I take it ? " " Then please do take it quickly, for I am sure you are very bad." It did not need an experienced eye to detect this, for Sir Aylmer's face was ghastly, more like the face of a corpse than of a living man. Only the eyes were calm and clear, and his voice was well under control though very low. Eyton gave him the glass, and waited impatiently to see him take the dose ; but he set it untasted on the table. " Won't you drink it ? Is it very nasty ? But it can't be worse than the pain. I can't bear to see your face look like that — please take it." " And break my promise ? Shall I purchase ease at the cost of my word ? " Eyton suddenly started, and drew back dismayed. " Is it that medicine ? " " Yes ; " and though the man was struggling to keep back all outward manifestations of suffering, it was betrayed by an involuntary convulsion of his features. Eyton saw it, and wrung his hands to- gether. EYTON'S DECISION. 153 " Isn't there anything else ? " " No." " Oh, uncle, what shall you do ? " The blue-gray eyes regarded him steadily. " You shall decide that, boy. It is you who have made the hero of me. Which will you choose for me — a broken promise and a little ease, or this ? " Poor Eyton looked round him in great distress. He had never known before the difficulty of making- choice between duty and love. He would have given anything in the world to see his uncle eased of that dreadful pain — but for him to break his word ! " Oh, please, uncle, don't make me decide — it is so hard ! " he pleaded. " Then what is it for me ? " Eyton tried to think, and his distress increased. " Well, have you decided yet ? " The words were pronounced with some difficulty. " Oh, uncle, I don't know what to say — only — only I can't help thinking about what my father used to say about people who were brave, and who ' over- came,' and the beautiful things that are waiting for them. And you are so brave and so good, and — and — oh, uncle, please do not break your promise. Please do not drink it ! " Sir Aylmer listened in silence, and then he pulled himself slowly and with difficulty to his feet. He took the glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, 154 EYTON'S DECISION. and threw them both into the glowing grate. There was a great hiss and splutter and flare, as if some living, angry thing had been dashed into the heart of the fire, and the blue bottle slowly twisted itself into strange shapes in the fervent heat. Eyton watched with a species of fascination, a strange kind of triumph tilling his heart. He had always known that his uncle was more brave and great and good than other men ; and now he felt that he had proved it. He did not for a moment believe that Sir Aylmer had ever hesitated in his decision ; he believed that he had only tried to test the resolution of his nephew. " To him that overcometh — him that overcometh," said the voice in his head again and again. " O Uncle Aylmer," he said, turning suddenly round, " how you must like that chapter about over- coming." As usual there was no reply. Eyton was growing accustomed to have the conversation mostly to him- self. Sir Aylmer only looked at him and made no attempt to speak. " Shall I read it to you now ? " asked the boy with sudden earnestness, and without waiting for a reply he fetched a big Bible from the shelf and sat down on the floor. " I used to read to mother when she was ill. She liked it better than anything else;" and in his clear, distinct tones he read the chapters that he felt certain were favourites with his uncle. EYTOS'S DECISIOX. 155 Sir Ayliner lay back in his chair with closed eyes and listened as to the sound of a loved voice lono- un- heard, till a kind of languor stole upon him that was half unconsciousness, half sleep, and which soothed him as the drug had never done which he had cast into the fire. XIII. MAKING FRIENDS. IT was with a sensation of keen pleasure that Eyton received upon the following Sunday afternoon a distinct invitation to his uncle's room. " I am going to church, if you please, sir," said Bunyard, " and my master would be glad if you would go and sit with him whilst I am away." " Oh, I should like that ! " cried Eyton. " I am so glad he wants me ! Is there anything for me to do ? How is he to-day ? " " Much better. I am in hopes he is round the corner now ; and that without that drug I spoke about to you that was doing such harm. You were quite right in what you said, sir. He never so much as named it again after he had once passed his word. Seems odd that you should have known him better than I." Eyton's face glowed as he ran across the hall, but he did not say a word. He had paid furtive visits to his uncle several times a day since that afternoon when the blue bottle had MAKIMJ Fill EX DS. 157 been thrown into the fire, but he had not been vouch- safed a word or even a look, and had not felt encour- aged to remain long. Sir Aylmer had in fact been passing through a sharp crisis of illness, and it had been small wonder that he had not been able to notice his nephew^ ; but Eyton was haunted by the fear that he had given offence, therefore this summons to the sick-room was the more welcome. He stole quietly in, and then seeing that he was watched for, and that his uncle looked altogether different from what he had done latterly, he advanced with more confidence. " I'm so glad you're better. Please don't be ill any more. We shall have such nice times together if only you can get about. You've never seen Red Rover yet, except that day in the wood. There are such lots of things I w^ant to show you when you get well and can walk about." Sir Aylmer was looking at the boy more attentively than he had ever done before. His mind w^as more free to observe, his thoughts were at leisure from him- self, now that he was at ease once more. " All in good time," he said quietly ; " w^e shall have plenty of time to see everything in due course. Tell me, boy, have you not been very dull all alone here this last year ? have you not been almost moped to death ? " " Oh no. I have had a good deal to do ; and I don't think I am lonely often. I have so much to think 158 MAKING FRIENDS. about, you know : being alone and having no one to talk to makes one think a good bit, and it's very nice." " What do you think about ? " asked Sir Aylmer shortly. Eyton sat down on a stool and clasped his hands round his knees. " Well, I think about a lot of things — things I read, and things Mr. Creiffhton used to tell me about till he went away ; and then, of course, I think a great deal about you." " About me ? Why ? " " Oh, I couldn't help it, you know, living in your house. People talk about you, and you seem like the heroes of the books I read. That's wdiy I wanted to know you so much. I thought it would do me good." Sir Aylmer did not answer, and presently the boy's thoughts roved off in another direction, " I think I know now why you told them to take down mamma's picture and put it on the floor," he said. " I used to wonder about it, but I can quite understand now." Sir Aylmer's face contracted sharply. " What do you mean, child ? " " Why, you can see it so much better as you sit in your chair," explained Eyton, coming over and perch- ing himself upon the arm. " She seems to be looking straight at us, and smiling as if she was pleased that we are together. I daresay she is pleased," he added dreamily after a short pause. " She would be pleased, MAKlXa FRIENDS. 159 you know, for there to be somebody to take care of me, and somebody to love you ;" and for the first time in his life Eyton attempted a little caress, by laying his small soft hand gently on Sir Aylmer's. " Eyton," said the baronet suddenly, " you asked mo once about your father's last hours, and if he left any message for you. Do you wish to hear that message now ? " " Yes, uncle, please." But before delivering it Sir Aylmer asked another question of the boy. " How did you know I was there ? " " I knew because Bunyard said so ; but we almost knew before — Mr. Creighton and I. You see it was just the kind of thing you would do, to go to your brother when he was in danger, and nobody else would dare to travel in the country. That is how I felt about it." " Oh, indeed ; you felt like that. Is that what Mr. Creighton felt too ? " " I should think so ; it was he who first told me about it. It came into his head first. You see he had an advantage : he had seen you and I hadn't — at least only your picture." Presently, receiving no answer, Eyton slipped down and took a footstool at the baronet's feet, leaning his dark head confidingly against his knee. " Please will you tell me about papa ? Did it hurt him much — to be killed ? " 160 MAKING FRIENDS. " ISTo ; he suffered no pain, and his mind was quite clear. He lived one night and one day after the battle." " And were j^ou with him all that time ? " " Yes." " I shouldn't have thought a civilian would have been allowed to be there." Sir Aylmer smiled a grim smile. " Gold, and determination, and a name that is known, can do most things, and carry most points, as you will find out for yourself one of these days, boy. I was there when your father was brought in. He was car- ried to my quarters direct." " How pleased he must have been to see you !" said Eyton with shining eyes. " I think so. We had not met for many years. We had a good deal to say." " And you stayed with him all the time — Bunyard said so. And he sent a message to me — I am sure he did. Please tell me what it was." " He said that he hoped you would always remem- ber him — and — your mother, and all that they both had taught you. He hoped that you would be a brave soldier all your life, and die in harness at last, with your sword in your hand and your face to the foe, as a good soldier does. He thought you would remember what good things are in store for those who have overcome their enemies ; but he wished you above all things to strive, not after the reward for its MAKIXG FRIEXDS. 101 own sake, but for the approval of Him who gives the reward. He was sorrowful in the thought that he should see you no more in this world, but he died in the full assurance that you would join him and your mother beyond the grave when your turn came." Eyton drank in every word with breathless earnest- ness ; for a few moments he could not trust his voice, but when he had mastered the disposition to cry, he looked up with his liquid, pleading, dark eyes, and said, — " O Uncle Aylmer, please help me to find the way. There is nobody now to help me but you." " And what can I do for you, boy ? " " Can't you teach me as — as they used to ? I do try to remember, but I am not very old yet, and I forget a great deal, and it is so hard when there is nobody to help one. Mr. Creighton was very kind ; but he has gone away, and there is nobody left but you. Please, uncle, will you help me ? " " What can I do for you ? " " Would — would you let me read to you sometimes? I used to read to papa and mamma, and then they explained what I did not understand, and we talked about it, and it was such a help. I do read to my- self, but it isn't at all the same ; and Dick expects me to explain to him, and he can't often tell me things I don't know. But you would know everything. It would be such a help." The dark eyes, so like the eyes in the picture oppo- (16S) n 162 MAKING FRIENDS. site, were very wistful and pathetic. Sir Aylmer looked down at the earnest upturned face, and dropped his thin hand for a moment on the boy's head. " You can do as you like about that, Eyton. I do not know how I can help you ; but if I can, I will, for your parents' sake." " How good you are ! " cried the child gratefully. " I am so much obliged to you. May I get my Bible now — the one that was mother's ? Sunday afternoon seems the right time for a read and a talk." He ran quickly from the room, and returned with his book, settling himself once more at his uncle's feet. " Shall we read in turns ? or would you rather I read ? " " You can read — my eyes are soon tired. Read what you read the other day." Eyton turned to the solemn chapters, so full of warning and of promise, and read them through from beginning to end. When he had done he closed the book, and sat gazing at his mother's picture. " I always think of her when it comes to the part about ' walking in white,' because the words were put up over her grave. ' And they shall walk with Me in white, for they are worthy.' Uncle Aylmer, how can we make ourselves worthy — I mean how can I ? I am only a little boy, and I do such a lot of naughty thincrs. It does seem so hard to be a-ood — like that." MAKING FRIEXDS. 163 After a long silence Sir Aylmer said, — " What do you think about it yourself ? " " I am trying to remember what papa said when I asked him. I tliinh he said that nobody, not even any one like mamma, could be worthy to walk with Jesus in white till He had made them so. Is that right ?" " I suppose so, boy, if your father said it." " And will He make me ' worthy ' too, if I ask Him, do you think ?" " I should think so," answered the baronet, with a look and a sigh the boy did not understand. " Is it not of children it is said that ' of such is the kino-dom of heaven ' ?" " Yes ; but I think that must mean quite little chil- dren, who have no real sins to keep them back. Only — only of course if we are sorry, really sorry for our sins, Jesus washes them away and makes us as white as snow. Oh, that is how it is — I remember now ; I am so glad. There is a story about it somewhere, I think. We are like children in a garden, and we have white dresses given us ; but everything we do wrong makes a stain, and only Jesus can take the stain away. But He can and He does if we are sorry, and go to Him and ask Him. And then I suppose when we die, if we are faithful, and have overcome, and have been washed quite white by Him, we can walk with Him in white. I think my father and mother are doing that now. Isn't it somethino- like that ?" 164 MARINO FRIENDS. " Very likely, very likely. You have been taught more recently than I. Perhaps you know best." But that notion made Eyton smile. He found something strangely fascinating in his uncle's odd and unexpected sayings. " Really good and holy men never think themselves the least bit good," he thought to himself. " Papa often said so. I should not be a bit surprised if Uncle Aylmer did not think himself in the least bit out of the way good. It would be just like him not to know." Meantime Sir Aylmer had possessed himself of the boy's Bible, and had turned to the fly-leaf. Upon it were inscribed these words : — " Madelaine Desborough. The gift of her husband ;" and below, in a feeble hand, — " For Eyton Desborough. The last gift of his mother. " ' Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil : for thou art with me.' " The baronet closed the book and leaned back in his chair, looking; straio-ht into the glowing embers. A strange shadow rested on his face. Yet several of its bitter and sneering lines were smoothed out as they had not been for years. Eyton was so pleased at having established friendly relations with his hero that his heart was all in a glow. If he had but known it, a part of his happiness was MAKING FRIENDS. 165 due to the fact that this interview had recalled to mind a number of old and sweet associations. He be- lieved that his uncle would now be to him something like what his parents had been in past days — a friend and companion as well as a model and instructor. All the vague loneliness seemed to have passed out of his life, and he was happy in the unquestioning way that belongs to childhood alone. Presently he actually coaxed his uncle to tell him stories of his past — stories of the life in the old house when there had been two brothers living there, and open hospitality had been the order of the day. Eyton liked to fancy what the great rooms must have looked like when bright with lights and decked with flowers. He pictured the gay dresses of the ladies and the flash of silver and glass, and wondered whether he should ever see anything like it there himself. When Bunyard came back, it was to find quite an animated conversation ffoino- on between his master and the child — at least Eyton was animated enough, talking away in an eager fashion, fast and freely ; whilst Sir Aylmer listened and threw in a word here and there, the look on his face showing plainly that he was in no wise displeased. After that day there was no fear left in Eyton's mind towards the uncle he had loved so long and thought about so much. A curious species of friend- ship seemed to be established between the two, and the boy's hero-worship displayed itself increasingly, 166 MAKING FRIENDS. and deepened in proportion as he saw more and more of its object. The very next morning Red Rover was led round to the library window, to be seen and admired by the master, and a lono^ and delightful discussion of his many excellent " points " was afterwards held between uncle and nephew. Then Eyton must needs hear all about the first Red Rovei", and there was so much to tell about them both that the talk threatened to become interminable. Now Eyton had another confidant than Dick to tell his adventures to, and he could talk to his uncle of many, many feelings and puzzling questions that the servant could never have entered into. It was a great advantage, too, to have some one to whom to refer when difficulties arose in his own studies or those of his pupil. Sir Aylmer's store of information seemed end- less, and he began to direct Eyton's daily reading in a way that gave to that congenial occupation a zest and meaning it never possessed before. As the baronet's eyesight was not strong, he used to profess a wish to hear the boy read his daily tasks aloud, and would let in upon the subject in hand such a wonderful flood of new light, and show it up in so many different aspects, that Eyton was quite carried away by excitement and delight. They were an oddly assorted pair, perhaps, but the companionship was doing much for both. For the first time for many years — almost for the first time MAKING FItlEXDS. 167 in his life — Sir Aylmer had undertaken a distasteful task from a sense of duty, and had deliberately set himself to a course of action from which he shrank with morbid dislike. To his great surprise he was finding a curious kind of pleasure in the very associ- ations which he expected to be fraught with nothing but pain, and a new interest was slowly awakening within him more healthy than anything he had known for long, because more human and unselfish. He had come to his ancestral home fully expecting to detest both it and its new inmate, and instead of this the old love of the place was slowly asserting itself, whilst the presence of the boy acted as a soother of his feel- ings instead of a constant irritant. He had respected the lad and felt a certain pride in him from the day when he had advised him to keep his promise, and throw away the drug that he had been warned against. He had been touched by the boy's confidence in him- self, and pleased by his steadfastness of purpose. It had given him an intuition that the child might actually be interesting, and the rest had followed naturally of itself. But the seal to the dawning friendship was set a little later, when the child first brought his beloved violin to play to his uncle. He had not, so far, said a word about his beloved instrument, and when he had played upon it in his far-off nurseries, not a sound had penetrated to the library below. Eyton had no idea that his uncle 168 MAKING FRIENDS. shared his own passion for music, and it was only by chance he discovered the fact. One dark day early in December, when the twi- light was fast drawing on, Eyton entered the library after his ride to find his uncle rather unwell and in- disposed to talk ; and after a short time the boy went off upstairs to solace himself with his beloved fiddle. But as he played the sweet old airs he had learned long ago from his mother, it occurred to him that perhaps it would soothe and please Sir Aylmer to hear them too. His mother had always delighted in music when she was tired or ill, and what had pleased her might very possibly please another. So with his violin under his arm he stole quietly downstairs, and slipped into the library without making the least sound. Placing himself then in the shadow of a great book-case, he began playing his favourite tunes with all the delicacy and finish of a born musician. There was a purity of tone about Eyton's touch that was undoubtedly an inherited gift, and he had the true ear and the suppleness of finger which are so essential to the violinist. His mother's careful teaching had not been thrown away, and his own natural gift had made him an apt pupil. He did not attempt great feats of execution ; he con- tented himself with simple melodies well within his power, and the result was that his playing was singu- larly attractive — an effect doubtless enhanced by the penetrating sweetness of the instrument in his hands. MAKIXa FIUEXDS, 169 He had no idea of the effect he was producing by his music. He played on and on, forgetful at last of his surroundings or of anything besides the sweet sounds he evoked. But when at length a plaintive air died away into silence, a voice from the far end of the room spoke, and there was a quiver in it suggestive of emotion. " Boy, is that you ?" " Yes, uncle." " Who taught you to play the violin ? " " My mother first. I have gone on by myself." " What instrument is it you have ? " " That lovely one you got for her. I felt sure you would let me have it to play on, though I have always forgotten to ask. Do you mind, uncle ? " " No. Play some more ; play the airs she taught you. It is like hearing her again." This was the highest praise Eyton could desire. He played on unweariedly till Bunyard appeared with his master's dinner, and the arrival of lamps broke the spell. But the next day when he came into the room, he found that a piano had been moved into it, and Sir Aylmer was seated at it, playing negligently, yet with that accuracy of touch that showed the master's hand. " Fetch your violin," he said briefly ; and when Eyton had done this and had tuned it to the piano, a piece of music was set before him, and for the first time in his life he experienced the keen pleasure and 170 MAKING FRIENDS. excitement of an ensemble performance with a true musician. His uncle was master as well as accom- panist, and a strict master to boot ; but the delight of that hour was never forgotten by Eyton, and this was only the first of many such lessons to follow. Little by little the hearts of the lonely little boy and the world-worn man were knit together by an ever - strengthening tie. Each felt he needed the other ; each was, consciously or unconsciously, learning new lessons every day that passed. Eyton was aware of the progress he made along the royal road to learning. Possibly Sir Aylmer was less conscious of the steps he made along the narrow path he had begun to tread ; but a child's words had awakened long-slumbering thoughts and feelings, a child's in- fluence was drawing him out of the darkness into the light, and Sir Aylmer Desborough was learning to thank God in his heart for sending him his little heir to be his guide and counsellor. XIV. A lYElV RELATION. A MONTH passed tranquilly away. Christmas came and went with little outward show to mark it ; but Eyton was so happy and content that he never thought of missing anything, or of complain- ing of the quietness of his life. He loved his uncle with an absorbing love that never changed or wavered, and which made the great happiness of his life, and each day seemed to bring the two nearer and nearer together. Sir Aylmer's health had begun slowly and steadily to improve, and in his heart he secretly thanked the boy for this. He felt uncertain whether, but for him, he should ever have eschewed the use of the nar- cotic which gave him ease at the price of increasing- debility, and the new interest he took in life from having another than himself to think for was without doubt an immense oain to him. Life was no lono^er to him a mere dreary waste, nor death a blank sleep and foro-ettino-. Both had new meaninsjs for him now, and increase of happiness had brought with it increase of health as a natural consequence. 172 A lYEW RELATION. " We are such friends, you see," Eyton would sometimes say with an air of deep satisfaction, as the two sat over their fire together. " I used to fancy what it would be like to be friends with a real hero, but it's ever so much nicer than anything I ever fancied. Real things always are better than make- believe ; aren't they, Uncle Aylmer ? " The baronet smiled and sighed as he often did when Eyton propounded one of his metaphysical questions ; and the boy began to feel that for those who had lived longer life was not altogether the simple thing he found it. Only one thing troubled him, and that was the fear that he might have to go to school some day soon and leave his uncle alone. Sir Aylmer spoke from time to time as though such a thing were in- evitable, but Eyton could not see why at all. " Why should I go ? " he asked. " I should so dislike to leave you all alone. Aren't some boys brought up at home ? " " Yes ; but ordinary homes are not like this, Eyton." " No, of course not. I don't believe there is such a lovely old house anywhere in the world besides ; and all boys can't have such great advantages as I have." " Oh, you have special advantages, have you ? And what are they, pray ? " " Why, you see, there are a great many. There is this library for one thing, with books about every- A iVEW RELATION. 173 thing ; and then I have you to teach me. It isn't every boy, I'm sure, who has a tutor who knows everything, and who understands all the languages in the world as well as Enolish. I have great advan- tages, I know, and it seems a pity to lose them by going to school, though of course it must be trouble- some to you to teach me." Sir Aylmer smiled a little to himself at this expo- sition of Eyton's sentiments. " That is not exactly my point of view," he re- marked presently. " But possibly you would hardly understand mine. I daresay the life we lead here does not strike you as so very extraordinary." " It is very pleasant," said Eyton ; " I don't wish for anything different." But Sir Aylmer, who knew more of the world than Eyton could be expected to do, knew also that it would not do for the boy to grow up in such utter isolation ; and much as he disliked the idea of parting with him, he had made up his mind to do so when the autumn should come and Michaelmas term com- mence, when a new turn in the face of affairs was brought about by a circumstance altogether unex- pected and not a little surprising. One cold February afternoon, as the light was fading in the sky, and Eyton had closed his book and drawn up his chair for a comfortable talk with his uncle, the door was suddenly thrown open, and Bunyard announced in pompous fashion, — 174 A ^'EW RELATION. " Lady Elizabeth Desborough." Eyton was so astonished that he just stared at the new-comer, eyes and mouth open wide, without so much as moving or risino;. He had never heard of such a person in his life, and wondered if she were by chance an impostor, and what his uncle would say to her in that case. He thought that it would be altogether so romantic and amusing to hear the baronet unmask the hypocrite, that it was almost a disappointment to him when the ensuing dialogue convinced him that this Lady Elizabeth was no impostor, and also that she was well known to his uncle. As she advanced from behind the screen, a tall, stately figure in black — it was too dark to discern features — Sir Aylmer rose from his chair. " How do you do, nephew Aylmer ? " The words were clearly enunciated in a voice as true and sweet as a silver bell, yet with something slightly incisive and aggressive in the intonation. " It is a strange thing indeed to find you of all people an inmate of Desborough Court ! " " And yet we parted here last not such an unheard- of time ago," answered Sir Aylmer, advancing and greeting his kinswoman with punctilious courtesy. " And may I inquire to what I am indebted for the pleasure of this very unexpected visit ? " " Certainly, nephew ; that is what I myself propose to explain. Are you aware that it is only within A NEW BEL AT/OK 176 the last few weeks that I have heard of your return to England ? " " Indeed ! Well, as my movements are not habit- ually recorded by the public press, it is conceivable that the world at large may remain in ignorance of them." " Your relations might not unreasonably expect to be informed of your movements." " I gave up writing letters many years ago." " Aylmer ! Aylmer ! you were incorrigible as a boy, and as a man you are worse. Words seem wasted on you." Yet there was a little suspicion of laughter in the voice that both listeners were quick to hear. " Your errand ? " questioned the baronet. " Are you staying anywhere in the neighbourhood ? How have you come ? " " I am at the ' George.' I have come for one night only. My errand to you is easily explained." Sir Aylmer rose and rang his bell. " Bunyard, send the man who brought Lady Elizabeth back to the ' George ' for her luggage, and desire Mrs. Mansfield to prepare a room immediately for her ladyship." " My dear Aylmer, I desire you will do no such thing," exclaimed the lady hastily ; but Bunyard had already withdrawn, and Sir Aylmer leaned back in his chair, saying languidly, — " Pardon me, my dear aunt, but I never give an order twice over. It is against my principles." 176 A NEW RELATION. " Humph ! did not know you had any." " I have developed some of late. In bygone years, when you used to descant to me upon the error of my ways, you were clever enough to foresee that your words would come back to me in my latter years. You were quite right. They have done so. I owe you a vast debt of gratitude." " One never knows whether you speak in earnest or in mockery, Aylmer ; but possibly time may have wrought a change in you. Is it true what I hear — that poor Philip's only child is at present beneath your roof ; that you and he are living here alone together ? " All this time the visitor had seen nothing of Eyton, who was curled up in deep shadow, listening and watchino; with the silent concentration natural to him. Now he would have moved and shown himself, but received a slight peremptory sign from his uncle to remain where he was. " Philip's boy has been here some time. Philip sent him when he was ordered off to Egypt. Strange choice, was it not, to commit him to me ? Yes, we are living under the same roof now. Do you wish to see the child ?" " All in good time. It is on his account I am here. Had I known before what was going on, I should have been here earlier. Aylmer, I have come to take the boy away. I cannot reconcile it with my conscience to allow him to stay. You must know as A XEW RELATION. 177 well as I do that you are not a fit person to have the sole care and responsibility of a child. You should not have undertaken the office." " I did not do so ; the office was thrust upon me." " Then no doubt you will gladly be relieved of it." " I shall be pleased to listen to what you have to propose." " What I propose is simply to take the child away and bring him up myself. I am not a rich woman, as you may know, but still I can afford to give the boy such advantages as befit his position. My two daughters are still in the schoolroom, and he will join them there. He will receive the kind of tuition his father would have wished. I knew little of Philip since his childhood, but what I have heard has been enough to show me how widely his life and principles differed from yours." " Yes ; Philip was always something of a dreamer and sentimentalist ; but strange as it may appear, it was to my guardianship he left the boy. Suppose I decline to give him up ?" " I do not believe you will decline. I do not think you are altogether lost to all sense of right. Aylmer, ask yourself the question honestly: are you a fit com- panion for a young child ? " " My acquaintance with young children is not suf- ficiently exhaustive to enable me to attempt a reply ; but, waiving that matter for the present, my good aunt, will you not tell me a little about yourself (168) 12 178 A .VBW RELATIOX. since last we met ? I am almost as ignorant of your affairs as you must be of mine. I heard of my uncle's death some ten years ago, but that is all I know. I suppose the two young cousins I teased and cuffed twenty and odd years ago are grown up and out in the world by this time ? " " Yes, they are in India and doing well. My two daughters, who are many years younger than the boys, are with me still. Margaret is seventeen, and Letty two years younger. We live in a small house on the outskirts of London, so that educational advantages are easily obtainable for the girls. My husband was rather unfortunate in his affairs during his lifetime, and we have to consider ways and means ; but we are very comfortable in a quiet kind of way, and our home is a home in the best sense of the word. I am not afraid of inviting my little great-nephew to come to us. I feel certain we could make him happy." " Which you feel certain I do not ? " " Well, Aylmer, I have no wish to say anything unpleasant ; but the whole appearance of this house is so utterly desolate, that I quite shudder at the idea of a child's being cooped up here all alone. And as for calling yourself a companion for him, well, you know there is such a thing as finding the remedy worse than the disease ! " Eyton could stand this kind of thing no longer. He did not understand all that was said, still less all that was implied in this dialogue ; but he had heard A NEW B ELATION. 179 enough to rouse in him a great many new feelings, and a good deal of indignation and fear. Suddenly raising himself up from the chair in which he was ensconced, he got on to his feet, and walked boldly up to the intruder, " I don't know who you are," he said, " and I don't wish to say anything rude, but I belong to my uncle Aylmer, and I love him better than any one in the world, and I don't want to leave him to go and live anywhere else." The stranger turned suddenly round in her chair. " What ! is this Philip's boy ? — Let me look at you, my dear. What a likeness, to be sure ! What do you say ? — you love your uncle, and do not wish to leave him ? Did you hear me say that I wanted to carry you off?" " Yes ; I was here all the time." " Indeed ! you were very quiet." " I often sit quiet a long time together. Uncle Aylmer is often very unwell ; then if I am quiet he can do with me in the room. If I could not sit still, I should have to go away." " And you like staying better ? " " Yes, of course I do ; any one would — any one, at least, who had an uncle as good and kind as my uncle Aylmer." Lady Elizabeth seemed for once to have no reply ready, so the boy concluded in his quaint, grave way, " I don't know if you know it, but Uncle Aylmer is one of the best and o-reatest men in the world." At this moment Bunyard appeared with a tea-tray 180 A JVEW RELATION. in honour of the titled guest, and Eyton was instructed to do the honours, which he managed very deftly. He liked Lady Elizabeth better as time went on and she talked to him and his uncle in more friendly fashion. She was very handsome too, he thought, and not nearly so old as he had fancied an aunt of his uncle's must be ; indeed she did not look much older than Sir Aylmer himself, and they talked as if quite on an equality. Eyton could not imagine who she was, thouofh when he came to think of it he did re- member that his father had said something about other relations of his whom he had lost sight of during his soldier life. Perhaps this was one of them. " Lady Elizabeth's room is ready for her," announced Bunyard by-and-by. Eyton realized that Mrs. Mans- field must have bestirred herself well to get things in train for this new visitor. Perhaps she was glad to see her come, or perhaps she was growing used to sudden surprises. Directly the visitor had left the room, Eyton pounced upon his uncle, to know who she was and all about her. Sir Aylmer told him freely all he asked. " She is the wife or rather the widow of my father's only brother. He was a good deal younger than my father, and she was many years younger than her husband, so that she is not really more than ten or twelve years my senior. I knew her before her mar- riage as well as after, and she was the one person in the world who always spoke the truth to me." A NEW RELATION. 181 " I don't understand." " Don't you ? Well, I do not know that there is any special mystery in it. My father and mother and the world in general combined to spoil me, and make me think myself a person of vast importance and consideration and talent. Lady Elizabeth had clearer judgment and an engaging frankness of disposition. She told me many home truths about myself which I have never forgotten. I owe a good deal to my worthy kinswoman." " Did my father know her ? I don't think he told me about her." " Your father was much younger than I. He was a mere lad when Lady Elizabeth and her husband left England for Russia, where he had a diplomatic appointment. When they returned home, Philip was himself out in the world. They cannot have met since he was a boy, and it is not likely that they corresponded." Eyton came close up to his uncle's chair and laid hand upon Sir Aylmer's. " You won't let her take me away ?" " Are you sure you would not like it ? Remem- ber, Eyton, that this is a very dull life we lead here." " I'm never dull with you," cried the boy vehemently. " O uncle, please let me stay — unless — unless — you find me in your way." The last words were spoken with a pathetic little break. 182 A N£:W RELATION. Sir Aylmer took the boy's hand in his, but his eyes were fixed gravely on the glowing fire. " That is not the point, really, Eyton. The point to be considered is what is best for you." " Papa gave me to you." " Yes, that is the great argument in favour of our wishes ; but we must look the question fairly in the face." " Our wishes ! " echoed Eyton with a lighting up of his whole face. " O uncle, do you wish me to stay with you ? Do you like to have me here ? " " Yes, Eyton, I do like it ; but, as I have said, that is not the only point to be considered." Eyton's lips closed firmly over each other. He looked very like his uncle at that moment. He was feeling in his heart that if Sir Aylmer really wanted him it would be a hard matter for any one to get him away. He became conscious, for the first time in his life, of a latent power of will characteristic, had he but known it, of all the race who bore the name of Des- borough. " Then I shall remain with you." He had not meant to speak the words aloud, but they came out as it were by accident. Sir Aylmer smiled, but made no response. " Run away now, and send Bunyard. We must dine in a little more state to-night ; and you, Eyton, can come in to dessert if you like to dress yourself in your best clothes. We must remember that we have A .YEW RELATION. 183 a visitor who has seen Desborouo-h Court in all its former bravery ; we must not quite disgrace ourselves before her." Eyton went slowly and thoughtfully away. He felt the shadow of impending change, and he was half sorry and half glad without understanding why. But he was very resolute on one point — he would never let any one take him from his uncle. His first duty was to him ; of that there could be no manner of doubt. He was excited at the idea of dessert downstairs, and dressed himself with scrupulous care in honour of the unwonted grandeur he was to share. When he entered the dining-room on Bunyard's final exit, his relatives were in such deep discussion that they had hardly attention to give to him. He sat down beside Sir Aylmer, and tried to understand what the talk was all about. " It is a most sudden and extraordinary idea to me, Aylmer," Lady Elizabeth was saying. " It is most difficult to believe you can really wish it." " It seems so simple and satisfactory to me," re- turned the baronet, " that I only wonder it never oc- curred to me before. No household is complete with- out a lady at its head. I want to do my duty by this boy, and by my neighbours in general, but both my health and my habits stand greatly in my way. I shall never marry now, yet it would be hard for Desborough Court to see nothing better than the regimen I alone am able to set on foot. Now, if 3^ou will consent to 184 A NEW RELATION. make it your home, all is simplified at once. You are a Desborough by marriage, an earl's daughter by birth, and eminently fitted for the position I ask you to fill. Your daughters will not be likely to dislike the change from their present abode to this, and their presence will give to the boy the companionship of younger persons. For a time they can study under the same preceptors, and when he is old enough for public school, his going will not leave me quite alone, and it will be a real home for him to return to in his holidays." " My dear Aylmer, when can you have had the time to elaborate such a complete scheme ? " " It comes very quickly when once the framework is formed. I have been seriously anxious of late — anxious to make a change in my establishment, and altogether ignorant how it could be accomplished. As I have before said, the most necessary ingredient — a lady's presence — seemed absolutely unattainable. Come, my dear aunt ; you always were a slave and a martyr to duty, even when it came in a most unpleas- ing shape. Act once again up to your principles, and consent to become the mistress of Desboroufrh Court." " My dear Aylmer, surely you do not expect me to give you an answer ofi'hand. A step like this re- quires so much consideration. Suppose you were to tire of the arrangement and of English life, and go ofl[' again rovinfi- to the ends of the earth at a moment's notice ? " " Ah, well, then you would remain on doing my duty whilst I was away ; but you will find that I A NEW RELATION. 185 shall not be a wanderer any longer. For one thing, I have not the health for it ; for another, I have a mag- net here ; " and he laid his hand on Eyton's shoulder. The boy looked up at him with a proud, fond smile. " Uncle Aylmer, is Aunt Elizabeth coming to live with us ? " " I hope so, Eyton. Run and ask her if she will. Tell her how much we both wish it, and how much you will like to see the old house looking as it used to do in old days." Eyton ran round to second his uncle's petition, and was received with a warm embrace. "We shall see, my little man, we shall see," she said in answer to his eager questions. " Old people like me do not make up their minds all in a minute, as you young ones do. But are you sure you would like the change ? I did not think you liked me so very much a little while ago." Eyton's frank, thoughtful gaze was bent upon her with earnest scrutiny. " Well, since you ask me, I didn't like you so very much just at first, but I do now." " And what has made you change your mind, young- man ? " " I don't think it is I that changed. It seems to me that it was you." " How do you make that out ? " " Well, at first I didn't think you properly appre- ciated Uncle Aylmer, and it didn't feel pleasant that 186 A NEW RELATION. he should not be appreciated, and I was rather vexed. But I think perhaps I did not understand, and that you like him better really than you appeared to do." Lady Elizabeth laughed and kissed Eyton on the brow once again. " Now, run off to bed, little one," she said, " for I have a great deal of business to talk with your uncle." And when the boy had gone, she turned a graver face •towards her nephew, and said, — " At least you have won her child's heart, Aylmer." A strange look crossed the baronet's face. " I owe him more than I can say." It seemed so strange a speech to come from the lips of that cold, reserved man, that Lady Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. " I had lost faith in everything," spoke Sir Aylmer slowly, " in God as well as man, and all was dark about me. That child's simple faith brought me back to the light again." " His faith in you seems boundless." " That was just it. He believed in me so utterly and entirely — what made him I cannot guess, but he did — that I could not utterly disillusion him. It is a strange thing what love and trust can do. Once I should have despised such a sentiment as purest folly, but it is the simple and literal truth." " Of course it is, Aylmer. Love and faith come straight to us from God. They are the cords by which He draws us to himself." w XV. OLD DAYS COME AGAIN. ELL, I never ! It will be like old times come tion a week or two later, when Eyton, swelling with importance, went down to her pantry full of the exciting news he had just heard. " I said to Jane, when her ladyship came to the Court the other week, that perhaps something would be done different like. But when she went away and nothing happened, I began to give it up. And so she's really coming to live here, is she ? And the young ladies too ! And we're to have a houseful of servants, and all the rooms opened and furbished up as they used to be ? Well, I never did ! I never thought to live to see the day, that I didn't." "And you're to wear a black silk gown, and keep the keys, and do no work, but only look after all the indoor servants and the linen and the stores," cried Eyton, capering about in great excitement. " And Jane is to be upper housemaid, and wear a cap with pink bows in it and frills round her apron in the 188 OLD DAYS COME AGAIN. afternoon. And Dick — oh, but I must go and tell Dick himself, and Red Rover too ! Oh, won't they both like it ! " and off darted the boy to the stable- yard, ready to burst with delighted self-importance. " Dick, Dick ! where are you ? Oh, I've got suck news for you ! Dick, how would you like to be coach- man, with six horses and two grooms to look after ? Do you know, Dick, I^ady Elizabeth Desborough and her two daughters are coming here next month, to live here always." " You don't say so, sir ? " " Yes, but I do. It's all true. We've been arrang- ing it ever since she was here that day, but it's only been quite fixed to-day. And Dick, you are to send the brougham, and the landau, and the Stanhope phae- ton into the town, to be done up fit for use if they want them ; and you're to buy a pair of big carriage horses to draw them when Lady Elizabeth drives out. And you're to get two nice lady's saddle-horses for my cousins to ride, and one for a groom ; and there will be Red Rover for me, and old Dobbin will stop on and do station work — fetching luggage, and so on — in the cart. Oh ! that will make seven horses — woi[\!t that be a lot ? And you're to be coachman, Dick." Dick took all this information in bit by bit ; but his own promotion astonished him the most. " Coachman did you say, sir ? Don't you mean groom ? Isn't the master going to get some older man to put over the stables ? " OLD DAYS COME AGAIX. 189 "No he isn't. He said that you had done your duty by the place for fifteen years, and that you de- served promotion. You're to have twenty-five shillings a week, and your livery and stable suits ; and you can please yourself whether you live indoors or over the stables. And you're to try and find two grooms to be under you, as well as all the horses, though Uncle Aylmer will really do the engaging and buying. Fancy, Dick, five new horses ! Oh, I'm so excited, I hardly know M'hat to do ! But Eyton's excitement was good for him. It roused him out of his dreamy, absent ways, and made a child of him agam. It even communicated itself to his uncle in a modified form ; and that same afternoon, when the bright February sunshine was pouring in through the south windows of the house, uncle and nephew made a pilgrimage through the great state- rooms that had been shut up so long, and which Sir Ajdmer had not visited for ten long years. With his hand resting on the boy's shoulder, the baronet wandered through his fine old house, and memories that had long been sleeping woke within him at every step, till the eager talk of the child beside him passed unheard and unheeded, and he moved on in a world of his own. Eyton knew the old home by heart, and every nook and cranny was dear to him. He was looking forward with keen pleasure to showing it all to his cousins, wondering if they would share his enthusiasm and his 190 OLD DAYS COME AGAIN. dreams, enter into his romantic imaginings, and play- lady and queen to his prince and knight. In the picture gallery they paused, and sat down side by side in one of the great oriel windows. Sir Aylmer was fatigued by the distance he had traversed, and Eyton was always content to sit beside him and talk or be silent as best suited the mood of his com- panion. After a long spell of silence he began to speak. " Uncle, are you not very proud of your beautiful old house ? Do you not love it with all your heart ? " " I am beginning to do so again, Eyton. There was a time when I almost hated it ; and I can never feel the same pride and pleasure in it that a man ought to feel in his inheritance." The tone was so grave that Eyton looked up in perplexity. " Why not, uncle ? " " Because, Eyton, I have failed in my duty towards it and towards my dependants here. I had a great trust put into my hands, and did not fulfil the duties and responsibilities that came to me with it. I let my own selfish wishes master me, and as a natural consequence Desborough Court can never be to me what it was to my fathers before me." " I don't understand." " You will understand better as you grow older. A fine old property like this is not to be lightly held, nor is it the exclusive right of the present pos- OLD DAYS COME AGAIN. 191 sessor. It is his duty to improve the land and the condition of the people on it, so as to hand it down to his successor in as good a state, or better, than he received it from his father. This my forefathers did as a duty, but it is a duty I have neglected. I can make some amends yet, I trust ; and you, Eyton, must endeavour to do the rest." The boy looked up, a very earnest expression in his eyes. " I don't quite understand you, uncle," he said. " What could I do ? " Sir Aylmer's hand rested on his nephew's shoulder. " Have you ever realized, Eyton, that one day, in all probability, this place will belong to 3^ou ? " A troubled shadow crossed the boy's face. He was gazing out of the window as he made reply — " I have heard people call me your heir, but I don't quite like it. I want us to be always here to- gether." " Well, my boy, I am not an old man yet, and I may be spared to see you grow up ; we may have many years still to spend together ; but in all human probability there will come a day when you will be Sir Eyton Desborough, the owner of all that you see about you, and it is perhaps good for us both some- times to think of that time, and face the inevitable changes of life." Eyton did not speak ; he was still looking out over the sunny park. 192 OLD DAYS COME AGAIK " I should like to think, my boy, that you would be a better master than I have ever been." " How could I ? " questioned Eyton, with something of indignant protest in his tone. " I can't bear you to talk like that. I shall never be half such a great and good man as you are." A sad smile flitted across the baronet's face. " Thank you, my boy, for your confidence in me. I wish it were better deserved ; but leaving com- parisons for a time, let me hear what you would do if you were master here. Suppose, when you come of age, that I hand the management of the property over to you — if my health still troubled me it is quite possible I might be glad to do this — what would you do with money and power if you had it ? " Eyton sat down beside his uncle, looking very much absorbed, and after thinking a good while he began to speak. " I think, first of all, I should rebuild all the alms- houses on Standen's Plot, and add some more to make a nice square all round. Dick told me that once the poor old men and women of the place, who couldn't work any more, and had no way of living except the workhouse, used to be put in the almshouses, and pay no rent, and have a little money to help them, and live happy and comfortable all their lives ; but that a great many years ago now some horrid, wicked, dis- honest man got hold of some papers, or money, or something — Dick didn't quite understand it all — that OLD DAYS COME AGAIN. 103 had been left for the poor, and ran aA\'ay to another country with it, and so there was nothing left for the poor people, and the cottages fell into decay, and now they are no good for anything. Mr. Creighton tried to get money to put things right, but he could not get people to help him, and so all the old people who haven't got children to help them have to go to the workhouse. What I should like to do first would be to build up the almshouses, and fill them with nice old poor people, who have been good and industrious all their lives, and deserve a nice home when they are old." Sir Aylmer listened in silence to this scheme. He well remembered the talk about the Standen's Plot scandal, and the little interest he had taken in it in his young days. He recalled the half -grudging way he had once promised twenty pounds to the fund for replacing the trust money if the needful amount should be obtained, and his perfect indifference when he learned that the attempt had failed. How different had his feelings been from those of the child at his side ! What had made the difference ? he wondered. Who had taught this boy to care for the welfare of those about him ? He put the question presently. Eyton looked almost surprised. " Why, one can't help caring, you know, uncle. It is so very sad when people are unhappy, and it must be very melancholy to be very old and very poor as well. One, feels it might have happened to oneself if (168) 13 194 OLD DAYS COME AGAIiV. things had been different. And what's the good of being rich, if one doesn't help other people ? " " Why, you could enjoy yourself with your money, buy everything you wanted, and be a great man, and have a fine happy life of it." Eyton's face was very grave. " I shouldn't call that being great at all ; and I don't think any one would be happy long. It might be amusing and interesting for a little while, but when Sundays came, or you went to church, or read your Bible at home, or thought about what things would be like if one had to die — you know one does think like that sometimes when one hears of other people dying, particularly if one loves them — then I don't think one would feel at all happy. I should be afraid." " Afraid of what ? " " Of not seeing my father and mother again — and you. Uncle Aylmer. You know that parable about the people who fed the hungry, and clothed and visited and helped unhappy people ; and the others who didn't ? Well, papa and mamma were like the first — they were always doing kind things for people who were poor, or lonely, or sad ; and if I went and joined with the others, I should not go to the same place as they have gone to ; for you know He will say to them, ' Depart ye,' and to the good ones, ' Come.' And then, uncle, if one thinks of it, it is so nice to be kind to poor people, because you know what He said about it : ' Inasmuch as ye did it to them, OLD DAYS COME AGAIN. 195 ye did it to mc' If one only thinks of it, it's doing it to Him. That makes eveiything so nice." Sir Ayhner was silent, revolving many memories in his mind. Eyton had risen, and was looking once more at the long row of family portraits. " I wonder if they were all great men ! Some of them have such nice, kind, strong faces. They look like men who have ' overcome.' I want to be like that ; and there are a great many things to overcome as one grows older — I see that more and more. Only, I have great advantages, living with you. You will teach me to be brave." " Why so, Eyton ? " " Oh, because you are so brave yourself," answered the boy, his eyes still on the pictures. " You went to be with my father, and stayed with him at the risk of your life. Bunyard said so ; and I have seen with my own eyes how brave you can be. But I always knew it all along. You are a Desborough, you know." " Yes, boy, and you also. Let us both try to be worthy of our name, and of the good men who went before us and built up the glory of our house. We have had heroes and martyrs amongst our ancestors — good and God-fearing men, who gave their lives for the truth, and never flinched from their duty, however hard it was. Doubtless they have long since reaped the reward of faithful service, and we will make it our aim to be worthy of the inheritance they have 196 OLD DAYS COME AGAIN. left behind for us, and to join them at last in the promised land, where those who ' overcome ' are re- ceived." It did not surprise Eyton as it would have sur- prised some people to hear Sir Aylmer speaking in such a strain. To him it appeared perfectly natural, and he looked up with eager, admiring eyes, that bespoke a world of love and trust. " We understand one another so well, uncle," he said, as they proceeded to retrace their steps through the long corridors. " It is so nice that you think just the same about things as my father and mother tried to make me think. You teach me just in the way they would have liked me to learn. That is why father gave you to me, I suppose." Every day just now was full of pleasure and excitement for Eyton. It was so interesting to watch the changes that almost every hour of the day brought with it. He w^as almost bewildered by the rapidity with which things happened. It was almost like living in a fairy tale. For besides the opening out and renovating of the beautiful old house, the unearthing of treasures of silver, china, and glass, and the hanging of lovely old fabrics over doors and Mnndows, the outside of the Court was subjected to changes even more astonishing. It had never occurred to Eyton that what had once been a very fine old garden was now nothing better than a tangled wilderness, that many people would OLD DAYS CoyrE Ad MS. 197 call a diso-race to the house ; hut he was soon to have his eyes opened. One Monday morning- a perfect gang of men and boys appeared on the place, and such a turmoil began under Sir Aylmer's superintendence as fairly bewil- dered the boy, who could have watched all day, so fascinated was he by the spectacle. Paths were weeded and freshly gravelled ; lawns cut and edu'es trinuned ; tano-led undergrowth was re- moved, so that the specimen trees and shrubs could stand out in their graceful beauty as in old days ; and the moss-grown marble cleaned and restored. The quaint yew hedges and trees were clipped once more into the shapes of beasts and birds ; and then market- gardeners came with carts full of bulbs in pots, and the bare beds were filled full of spring flowers — some, like crocuses, already in full bloom, whilst hyacinths and narcissi showed their buds and only waited for some hot spring sunshine to burst out into their fragrant o;lorv. " Oh, what a lovely garden w^e have now ! " Eyton was never tired of exclaiming. " Uncle Aylmer, you are clever ! I can't think how you knew how to make it so beautiful." " You see, I remember it as it was before it all went to ruin. Those who mar ought to mend. It was certainly my place to restore it." The choosing of the horses was another object of absorbing interest ; and finding suitable names for 198 OLD DAYS COME AGAIN. them all was quite a study, and fairly taxed the patience of the whole household before the little mas- ter was satisfied. Eyton had so much riding that he grew quite an accomplished horseman, and the grave preoccupied look vanished from his face, only return- ing at rare intervals. But perhaps the most wonderful surprise of all was something that happened just before the new inmates arrived at the Court. Sir Aylmer had begun to go out more since the days had begun to lengthen out. Whenever the wind was not in the east, he would walk about the grounds with Eyton ; and on really warm days such as we occasionally get even in the early spring, he would drive out in the Stanhope phaeton, with Eyton perched up beside him, highly delighted at the masterly way in which his uncle drove. This pleasure was quite a novelty of course, as the carriage-horses had only been recently purchased, and Eyton enjoyed it immensely, more especially when he was intrusted with the reins and instructed in the art of driving. He found a pair of horses rather a handful, but he had plenty of courage and resolution, and his uncle was close beside him to help him out of any difficulty, and as the roads were very quiet, he had plenty of space at command. He liked these drives almost better than anything else, and one of them was the occasion for a very great surprise. " Why, uncle," he cried one day as they were OLD BAYS COME AGAIN. 199 approaching a piece of ground a little way from the village, standing by itself, with a road all round it — " why, uncle, they are pulling down the old cottages on Standen's Plot ! " " So I see," replied Sir Aylmer quietly. " I suppose somebody has bought the plot. The parish authorities had power to sell under certain condi- tions." " Oh, I wonder who has bought it, and what is going to be done ! May I jump out and run and ask ? I think that man in a black coat would know. He seems like a kind of foreman. May I ask him, uncle ? " " If you wish." Eyton was out of the carriage almost before the words were spoken. He bounded off to the spot where the work was going on, and was absent a long time, discussing something so earnestly that it seemed as if he w^ould never come back at all ; but at last he did so, though not quite so fast as he had gone. His face wore a look of gravity, almost of oppression. He climbed to his seat in silence, and only when the horses had carried them out of sight of the place did he relieve his feelings by the exclamation, — " uncle ! " " Well, what did you find out, eh ? " " I found out," replied Eyton, " what I always knew — that you are the best and kindest man in all the world." 200 OLD DATS C02IE AGAIN. Sir Aylmer looked straight at the horses he was driving. " It is your doing, Eyton, not mine." " You pretend it is me. The man told me it had been bought in the name of Mr. Eyton Desborough, and that the name was to be changed to Eyton's Plot. And oh, uncle ! I don't know what to say — new alms- houses prettier than the last ! It seems too much. It does indeed." " My dear boy," said the baronet gravely, " it ought to have been done long ago ; and it was my place, as the richest landowner, to have seen to it. I have left my duty undone all these years. I need no praise for this tardy awakening." " But why do you call it mine, when it is all yours really ? I should like it to be called after you, uncle." " No, Eyton : let it bear your mother's name ; it is in memory of her and of your father that these buildings will be erected. I have long been turning over in my mind some suitable memorial to be raised to them. Hitherto I have been dissatisfied with every suggestion that has occurred to me, but this, I think, will do. It is fitting that their names should be blessed by the poor and needy, who never appealed to them in vain. Let it stand as a memorial to them — and as a thank-offering too." The last words were a mere whisper, but Eyton heard them and wondered. OLD DAYS COME AOAIX. 201 " A thank-offering for what ? " he asked. Sir Ayhner glanced at him keenly. " Do you think I have nothing to thank your parents for, boy ? " " I don't know. I daresay you have. O uncle, I wonder if they can see it all up in heaven ! Oh, how happy they will be ! " " And, Eyton, it is to you that the management of this trust will mainly be committed. I understand little of such matters myself, but in your aunt Elizabeth you will find a worthy coadjutor. You must ask her advice as to all the rules and regulations necessary for the maintenance of such a charity as we found to your parents' memory. You will have to take great care that it is used without being abused by the people whom it is to benefit, and that it becomes a blessing to many. I will help you all I can, and procure the best possible advice ; but as you grow in life I wish you to take the main responsibility of the undertaking, which is, in fact, of your own making. Let the Ej^ton almshouses be worthy of the name they will bear." Eyton's face was very grave, yet his heart was full to overtiowing with gladness and gratitude as the horses carried them home. He scarcely spoke a word to his uncle all that time ; but he had hardly dis- mounted from his high perch before he had rushed off" to Mrs. Mansfield, and had poured out to her all the wonderful news. 202 OLD DAYS COME AGAIN. " Well, I never did ! " exclaimed that good woman in unfeigned surprise. " It is like old days come again, that it is. God bless you, Master Eyton, my dear, for you've brought a blessing to the old house, and no mistake ! " XVI. THE LAST. IT was ^Yith feelings of the greatest excitement and pleasurable anticipation that Eyton stood at his uncle's side in the hall to welcome the new inmates to the old family home. "Are you pleased they are coming, Uncle Aylmer?" he had asked a hundred times that day, and the an- swer had always been a satisfactory one. Eyton himself was very glad, now that he had once got used to the idea. Mrs. Mansfield had assured him that " company " would be good for the master, and the boy began to feel that young companions would be pleasant for himself. And now the sound of horse-hoofs and the roll of wheels down the avenue announced the return of the carriage. Up it dashed to the door, Dick sitting proudly on the box in all the bravery of the green and gold Dcsborough livery, managing his horses with great skill and dexterity, and the next minute Lady Elizabeth and her two daughters were entering the ffreat door. 204 THE LAST. Eyton's eyes were fastened at once upon the two girls. The elder one looked almost a grown-up young lady, she was so tall and so stately, and very like her mother. Still she had a very pleasant face, and her eyes smiled at Eyton, when she met his intent gaze, in a way that made him certain he should like her. As for Letty, the younger girl, she was small and slight, and wore short frocks, and did not look a bit more than thirteen, though she was, as Eyton knew, quite two years more. He thought she was very shy, for she kept close to her mother's side, and never looked round at all, and seemed to tremble all over when Sir Aylmer spoke to her ; but all the same there was something in the shape of the round rosy face and dimpled mouth that encouraged Eyton to believe she could easily be pro- voked to laughter, and when once he caught a glimpse of the bright, roguish, gray eyes, he was quite con- vinced of this. As Sir Aylmer was ushering his guests into the drawing-room the boy slipped up to Letty, " Would you like to come with me and see my rooms ? I will show you all over the house, if you like, and we can have tea in my nurseries. I have a nice big sit-down tea, because I'm too little to dine downstairs. Would you like to come ? " Letty needed no second invitation. She slipped away from the others, and the moment the door had closed behind their retreating figures, she began THE LAST. 205 waltzing round the liall like the veriest mad- cap. " Are you Eyton ? What an angel-child you were to rescue me so promptly from the grown-ups ! Oh, what a lovely old house ! I feel like jumping out of my skin at the idea of living here. I've always pined to live in the country — real country, you know, where one can have animals all round one, and a garden, and woods, and fields, and can run out without hats and gloves. — Oh, you darling ! you beauty ! Oh, 'please let me kiss you. I never saw such a n)agnilicent creature in my life." This last eulogium was addressed to King, who slowly reared himself up from his dusky corner to investigate this volatile stranger. He seemed to re- cognize the Desborough blood in the new-comer, and submitted to be hugged and kissed, though he let the demonstrations of delight be all on the side of the lady. " If you like animals so much," said Eyton, " per- haps you would like to come and see your horse." Letty turned on him with wide-open eyes. " M}' horse ' What do you mean ? " " I mean your horse — the one Uncle Aylmer has bought for you. She's black, and I've called her Gipsy — she's such a dear little thing, so affectionate, and only two inches bigger than Red Rover. Red Rover is my pony, you know ; I've had him a long time now. Your sister's horse is Cid. He's bay, and 206 THE LAST. bigger than yours. Your mother is to have the two carriage horses. They are Castor and Pollux ; but I generally call them ' the great twin brethren,' after the ode of Macaulay's, ' The Battle of Lake Regillus,' you know. Why, what is it ? " for Letty had sprung high into the air, and was executing a dance even wilder than before. " A horse ! a horse of my own I Oh, I don't believe it ! I believe it's all a dream, one of those lovely, hor- rid dreams where one thinks one has everything one wishes, and wakes up to find it all gone ! Pinch me, thump me, Eyton ! I can't believe it's anything but a dream." " Come and see then," cried Eyton, seizing her by the hand, and racing off to the stable-yard. He for- got that perhaps the yard was hardly the place to take a girl-cousin to the first moment of her arrival, but both were so excited that the proprieties were quite forgotten ; and Letty 's raptures over the sleek, gentle horses in their loose-boxes was a pretty sight to witness. It was hard to get her away from the stables, but when once in the w^ilderness behind the house, she was in a perfect transport of new delight at the sweetness and beauty of all she saw. Eyton caught the infection of her enthusiasm, and they raced along the shrubbery paths and down the long avenues of fir and larch tree, till, breathless and panting, they were pulled up by the boundary fence, and Eyton declared that they must go in to tea. THE LAST. 207 " I feel as if I'd known you all my life," he re- marked to his companion as they mounted the stairs together. " I'm so glad you like animals and out-of- door things. We shall be so happy together." " You're a darling yourself," cried Letty, who cer- tainly seemed to have no shyness left in her. " I always have longed and pined for a brother — not a grown-up brother, I've got them, and they are no good, they're always away, but a brother of my very own, to play with and work with, and have for my companion. Let us be brother and sister — do, Eyton. I'll be such a nice sister to you if you'll only have me." Eyton was enchanted with the idea. He had never dreamed of sisters' love and companionship, and now here was a charming and delightful sister claiming for adoption. The compact was sealed by a warm kiss on both sides, and the young people sat down to their first meal together, Letty taking her place behind the urn, and Eyton waiting upon her hand and foot. " How pretty you are!" he said, looking admiringly into the round flushed face, with its sparkling eyes and wealth of tumbled yellow hair. " You look as if you were always laughing. I think you are just the person we want here." For Eyton, being by nature and training quiet and grave and reserved, admired the contrast of Letty 's bright, sunny temperament, and fell under the spell at once. He was not a bit awed by her superiority in 208 TEE LAST. years, for she was a veritable child at heart, and with her hair all falling over her shoulders, and the shyness gone as if by magic, she looked even younger than before. What a merry meal that was ! Mrs. Mansfield came up in the midst of it to make sure that the children were comfortable together, and Letty quite won her heart by her merry talk and eager interest in the old house, and by her admiration of all that had been done in honour of their reception. " I can't make it out a bit," she cried. " I always thought Sir Aylmer was a perfect ogre, whom no one would go near. And now he turns out to be the most charmino' old sfentleman in the world, who gives every one everything they wish for." Eyton went off into a fit of laughter. " What did make you get hold of such a notion, Letty ? Why, Uncle Aylmer is the best and kindest man in the world." " I believe he is now, but I was horribly afraid of him when I came. I was so afraid that I was almost sorry we were coming to live with him, though it's so delightful in other ways." " Well, you mustn't be afraid of him any more," said Eyton encouragingly ; " and if we go down to dessert, or into the drawing-room after dinner, you can tell him how much you like Gipsy. He was so particular in buying her that she should be strong and quiet and good-tempered, just fit for a lady. He THE LAST. 209 made more fuss over your saddle liorses than over any of the others." Letty was much impressed, and promised to ivy and screw up her courage to the sticking-point and thank the baronet when she saw him. " But I'm much too big to go in to dessert like a little girl, so don't 3^ou go either, Eyton. Let us stay up here, and then go down to the drawing-room and wait for them there. Margaret is to dine now, because she is nearly eighteen, and too grown-up to belong to the nurseries. I'm so glad I'm not grown-up j'et. I think it must be so dull." Eyton had not thought of this before ; he won- dered if it would seem dull when he grew too old to play games and imagine himself somebody else. He began to tell Letty of all the things he played at by himself in the old house, and found that she was a romancer herself, and delighted to find a kindred spirit. What games they would play together, now that there were two of them ! Such a glorious vista of possibilities opened out before them, that again Letty feared it was all a dream, and that it was too good to be true. Later on they both dressed themselves with care and went down to the drawing-rooms to wait until dinner should be over. Letty looked very pretty in her white Indian silk and gold-coloured ribbons, and she was again a little subdued by all the grandeur about her. Eyton went round the room with her, (168) 14 210 THE LAST. showing off all its treasures, and telling of the reno- vations that had been accomplished in their honour. The stories he managed to introduce in praise and glory of his uncle were innumerable, and at last Letty remarked in her mischievous way that she should be soon frightened again because he was such a paragon of virtue. " But you won't when you get to know him," was the reassuring answer. " I know what you mean, be- cause just for a little time I was rather afraid my- self, but all that went off directly I came to know him really. There is no one so good and kind as Uncle Aylmer." " And I don't even know what to call him," pur- sued Letty. " We are cousins really, and cousins call each other by their names ; but of course we can't do that. Why, he looks as old as mother, and is only about ten years younger. Margaret thinks we shall call him ' Cousin Aylmer,' but I think that sounds much too familiar. I should like to say ' Sire' as they did in old books, or even ' Sir Aylmer,' only I suppose that would sound as if I did not like him and wanted to be stand-offish." " Call him Uncle Aylmer, as I do. I'm sure he'll like it !" cried Eyton eagerly. " You know you ought to, if we are brother and sister; and I can't change. If I were you I'd begin to call him uncle straight away." " Won't he mind ?" THE LAST. 211 " Oh no ; I think he'll like it." So Letty took her courage in both hands, and as soon as Sir Aylmer was fairly established in his chair beside the fire, she came boldly up and halted just in front of him. " Please, Uncle Aylmer, I want to thank you very, very much for that dear darling black horse you have got for me to ride, and to tell you that I think you are the very nicest man in all the world." This last part of the sentence had not been pre- meditated, but it slipped out unawares when she met the glance of the gray-blue eyes fastened upon her in kindly scrutiny. Eyton was standing by with beaming face. " O uncle, it is so nice to have Letty ! We're going to be brother and sister always, and play and do lessons, and ride and read together. She's just as fond of animals and all that kind of thing as I am, and we like the same kind of books and the same kind of games. Oh, we are going to be so happy ! " " And forget the old uncle altogether, eh ? " " Oh no, no ! " cried they both in a breath. " Why, how could we forget you ? you're the person who does everything;" and Eyton added, "But you will have Aunt Elizabeth to talk to you now, when we are out or busy. But we shall come often to see you and tell you every single thing we do — shan't we, Letty ? — because, you know, we couldn't do anything if it weren't for you ! " 212 THE LAST. " Well, run away now, chatterer, and talk to your aunt, and let me make acquaintance with my new niece. Margai-et, I can see, is aching to go and look over all that music, and presently Eyton shall bring his fiddle and give us a concert. He ought to be in bed, by-the-by ; but as he is much too excited to sleep, he may just as well stop up for once and help to do the honours of the house." So Margaret crossed the great room to the piano and music-stand, and Eyton went over to Lady Eliza- beth, and began pouring into her ears the story of the almshouses, and how she was to be the counsellor and adviser of those concerned, and help to establish the affair on a good and firm basis. Meantime Letty seated herself on a low seat in front of the fire, and with the rosy light playing pic- turesquely over her face and dress and shining hair, she began to answer Sir Aylmer's questions, shyly at first, but with more and more confidence as time went on, till at length shyness was quite a thing of the past. She told of her life in London, her studies with the French mademoiselle who was to follow them to the Court after Easter, and the funny old music-master who looked so dried-up and queer, and yet played so exquisitely that he sometimes almost made her cry. She told how well she and Eyton would be able to study together, because they were just about as far advanced in Latin and Greek and algebra ; and THE LAST. 213 though she knew more about English gramniai- and composition and literature, he was more advanced in history and geography, so that they could mutually help one another. " I like boys' lessons best, but I haven't been learning them very long. I only began Greek a year ago ; but as Eyton doesn't know much himself, that is rather an advantage now. We can go on together, and Eyton can understand French and speak it quite nicely for a boy, because he has lived in places where lots of the people talk it ; so mademoiselle will like him, and he won't puzzle her. It will be so nice to have a brother to do lessons with. Margaret has always been so much ahead of me since I had scarlet fever and things after it, and didn't work for a year, and got so backward. I'm rather glad I'm backward now ; it makes me nearly the same as Eyton in so many things." And then the conference was interrupted by the sweet sound of Eyton's violin as he began to play an air to Margaret's accompaniment, and Letty got up and went over to the group by the piano, whilst Lady Elizabeth came and took a vacant chair beside Sir Aylmer. Music seemed to run in the Desborough family, and soon the sweet clear voices of the sisters were sound- ing through the room in one of Mendelssohn's exquisite duets. Sir Aylmer leaned back in his chair, looking across 214 THE LAST. at the dark-eyed boy and fair graceful girls with a strangely softened look upon his face. " It is like old times come back again," said Lady Elizabeth softly, " I little thought to see the old house again like this. My dear nephew, I trust that this may once more become a happy home to you." He turned his face towards her. There was a smile upon it such as she had never expected to see there again. " It is the boy's doing," he said simply. " The boy has been a blessing to you indeed, Aylmer," was the thoughtful answer ; " and yet it takes more than a child's hand to work such a change." He gave her one quick glance. " It is not the first time that a child's hand has led the traveller from darkness to light." Silence then, for neither of these two could talk much where their deeper feelings were concerned. The silence was broken by Margaret's full clear voice : " ' I know that my Redeemer liveth.' " Lady Elizabeth turned suddenly to her nephew ; her eyes were full of tears. " Aylmer, can you say that too ? " " I can." And they spoke no more words till the song had died away. Then the young people came forward in a body to say good-night. THE LAST. 215 The warmth of the embrace bestowed upon him by Lady Elizabeth rather surprised Eyton, but he returned it affectionately, wondering what made his face feel damp as he pressed it to hers. " God bless you, my child," she said tenderly ; " may He keep you always safe, and give you grace to go on as you have begun." THE END. Young Lady's Library The Heiress of Wylmington. By Evelyn Kvkhktt- CiuEEN, Author of ' ' True to the Last, " etc. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. Price OS. Cheaper Edition, 4s. " There are some remarks in its images with which sensible people of every creed and every shade of opinion can scarcely fail to sympathize. . ..It is pleasantly and prettily cs everything in after life to having joined a Band of Hope in boyhood. FIFTY POUND PRIZE TALE. Lionel Franklin's Victory. By E. Van Sommer. With Six En- gravings. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 3s. 6d. An interesting prize temperance tale for the young, with illustrative engrav- ings. SEVENTY POUND PRIZE TALE. The Naresborough Victory. A Story in Five Parts. By the Rev. T. Keyworth, Author of "Dick the Newsboy, "" Green and Grey , " etc., etc. With Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth extra. 2s. 6d. "In construction the story is good, in style it is excellent, and it is certain to be a general favourite." — Manchester Examiner. "Attractive in its incidents and forci- ble in its lessons." — Liverpool Albion. SPECIAL PRIZE TALE. Owen's Hobby ; or, Strength in Weakness. A Tale. By Elmer Burleigh. Illustrated. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d. Replete with touching, often saddening, and frequently amusing incidents. SPECIAL PRIZE TALE. Every-Day Doings. By Hellena Richardson. With Six Illustra- tions. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d. A prize temperance tale, " writteti for an earnest purpose," and consisting almost entirely of facts. By Uphill Paths ; or, Waiting and Winning. A Story of Work to be Done. By E. Van Sommer, Author of "Lionel Franklin's Victory." Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d. True to His Colours ; or, The Life that Wears Best. By the Rev. T. P. Wilson, M.A., Vicar of Pavenham, Author of "Frank Oldfield," etc. With Six En- gravings. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 3s. 6d. An interesting tale— the scene laid in England — illustrating the influence over others for good of one consistent Christian man and temperance advocate. T. NELSON AND SONS, LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK. Favourite Stories, etc., by A. L. O. E. Beyond the Black Waters. A Tale. By A. L. O. E., Author of "Harold's Bride,'' "Driven into Exile," " Pictures of St. Peter in an English Home," etc. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d. Harold's Bride. By A. L. 0. E. , Author of "Driven into Exile," " Pictures of St. Peter in an English Home," etc. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d. Pride and His Prisoners. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. Cd. A tale for the young, 'partly allegori- cal, to show the fatal effects of pride on character and happiness. Rambles of a Rat. Illustrated. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. Price 2s. 6d. A rat telling his oioi story, with mamj facts of the natural history and habits of rats. The Robbers' Cave. A Story of Italy. Illustrated. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. 2s. 6d. A tale for the young. The adventures of an English youth among Italian brigands. With tinted ilhistrations. The Triumph over Midian. With Frontispiece and Vignette. Post Svo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d. A tale for the young, illustrative of the Scripture history of Gideon. Fairy Know-a-Bit ; or, A Nut- shell of Knowledge. With up- wards of 40 Engravings. Post Svo, cloth extra. Price 2s. A tale for children. A fairy gives "Master Philibert" a great variety of information on all manner of things around him— food, dress, paper, etc. — till he takes to learning for himself from other teachers. Fairy Frisket ; or. Peeps at Insect Life. With upwards of 50 En- gravings. Post 8vo, cl. ex. 2s. Fairy teachers (a sequel to "Fairy Know-a-Bit"), and lessons from insect life and natural history. The Holiday Chaplet of Stories. With Eight Engra\'ings. Post Svo, cloth extra. Price 2s. Thirty ■ eight short stories for the young. My Neighbour's Shoes ; or. Feel- ing for Others. Illustrated. Post Svo, cloth extra, gilt edges. 2s. A fairy tale, enforcing the duty and happiness of kindness and sympathy to- wards all around us. Old Friends with New Faces. Illustrated. Post Svo, cl. ex. Is. A tale for children, in which some old favourite stories — Bhiebeard, the Fisher- man and the Genii, etc. — are introduced in an allegorical form, rvith incidents that illustrate them. Parliament in the Playroom ; or, La\\- and Order made Amusing. With Illustrations. Post Svo, cloth extra. Price 2s. The Sunday Chaplet of Stories. With Eight Engravings. Post Svo, cloth extra. Price 2s. Tlie thirty-two stories in this volume are suitable for Sunday reading. Chris- tian priiKiples are tattght in them with- out heaviness or dulness. It is a good book for the home circle, or for the Sun- day school. The Golden Fleece ; or. Who Wins the Prize? Kew Edition. Foolscap Svo, cloth extra. Is. 6d. The Story of a Needle. Illus- trated. Foolscap Svo, cloth ex- tra. Price Is. 6d. A tale for the young, interwoven with a description of the manufacture, uses, and adventures of a needle. T. NELSON AND SONS. LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK. Library of Tales and Stories. Aunt Bell, the Good Fairy of the Family. With the Story of Her Four-Footed Black Guards. By Henley I. Aeden. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price Is. 6d. Rich and Poor. A Tale for Boys. How one Boy Climbed Up, and another Slipped Down. By C. M. Trowbridge. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price Is. 6d. Susy's Flowers ; or, " Blessed are the Merciful, for they shall obtain Mercy." By the Author of "Hope On," etc. With Coloured Fron- tispiece and Vignette, and numer- ous Engravings. Price Is. 6d. A story for children : a little child's flower-mission work. The Swedish Twins. A Tale for the Young. By the Author of ' ' The Babes in the Basket. " With Coloured Frontispiece. Royal 18mo. Price Is. 6d. An interesting tale, with lively descrip- tions of manners and customs in Sweden. Sweetest when Crushed ; or, Tlie Blessing of Trials when Rightly Borne. A Tale for the Young. By Agnes Veitch. Price Is. 6d. Tom Tracy ; or, Whose is the Victory ? With Coloured Fron- tispiece and Vignette. Is. 6d. Tom's great enemy, a hasty, violent temper ; and what it cost him before he learned the only way to gain the victory. Truth is Always Best; or, "A Fault Confessed is Half Re- dressed." By Mary and Eliza- I'.RTH KiRBY. Witli Coloured Frontispiece and 17 Engravings. Royal ISmo. Price Is. (5d. An interesting tale for children, incul- cating the moral of the title. Sow Well and Reap Well. By T. S. Arthur. Royal ISmo. Price Is. 6d. A volume of tales illustrating the Scri])- ture truth, " JFliatsoever a man scnveth, that shall he also reap." The Power of Perseverance Il- lustrated in the Story of Reuben Inch. By the Author of "The Copsley Annals," "Village Mis- sionaries," etc. With 20 Illus- trations. Royal ISmo. Is. 6d. Talc of a poor, friendless hoy in Lon- don. Roe Carson's Enemy ; or, The Struggle for Self-Conquest. By the Rev. E. N. Hoare, M.A., Rector of Acrise, Kent, Author of "Heroism in Humble Life," etc. Royal ISmo. Price Is. 6d. This simple story relates how Roe's enemy (an uncontrolled temper) frequent- ly got the better of him, and how he loas made to sea the folly of his conduct, and learned to conquer -self. Heroism in Humble Life ; or, The Story of Ben Pritchard and Charlie Campion. A Temperance Tale. By Rev. E. N. Hoare, M.A., Rector of Acrise, Kent, Author of "Tempered Steel," etc. Fool- scap, 8vo, cloth extra. Is. Gd. A capital story of the heroism of a young man who saves the life of a corn- panion and also influences him to change his careless and dissipated habits. "Sheltering Arms ;" or. The En- trance of God's Word gives Light. By M. E. Clements, Author of ' ' The Story of the Beacon Fire. " Large foolscap Svo, cloth extra. Price Is. 6d. An interesting Irish story. The scene ti .wKil! f./i-3,'t.tJ(Hi)242sa)948i2 .M^^ . Hf 6,yyf^,.=is