L 
 
THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Education 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Louise Farrow Barr 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME 
 
HlLDEGARDE AND THE CHINA POTS. 
 
EDUC.- 
 PSYCH. 
 UMA8Y 
 
 HILDEGARDE'S HOME 
 
 BY 
 
 LAURA E. RICHARDS 
 
 AUTHOR OF " QUEEN HILDEGARDE," " HILDEGAKDB'S HOLIDAY" 
 " CAPTAIN JANUARY," ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 ESTES AND LAURIAT 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
COPYRIGHT, 182, 
 BY E6TE6 AND LAURIAT. 
 
 Education 
 
 GIFT 
 
 TYPOGRAPHY BY J. S. GUSHING & Co., BOSTON. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. THE HOME ITSELF 11 
 
 II. A DISH OF GOSSIP 33 
 
 III. MORNING HOURS 51 
 
 IV. A WALK AND AN ADVENTURE 71 
 
 V. UNCLE AND NEPHEW 100 
 
 VI. COUSIN JACK 120 
 
 VII. Miss AGATHA'S CABINET 137 
 
 VIII. THE POPLARS 155 
 
 IX. THE COUSINS 179 
 
 X. BONNY SIR HUGH 198 
 
 XI. A CALL AND A CONSPIRACY 216 
 
 XII. THE SECOND ACT . 234 
 
 XIII. A PICNIC 255 
 
 XIV. OVER THE JAM-POTS 281 
 
 XV. AT THE BROWN COTTAGE 292 
 
 XVI. GOOD BY ! 309 
 
 7 
 
 312 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 HlLDBGARDE AND THE CHINA POTS 
 
 "IT WAS VERY PLEASANT UP IN THIS AlRY BOWER " . 81 
 "JACK FERRERS APPEARED CARRYING A HUGE BUNCH OF 
 
 ROSES" 121 
 
 " HlLDEGARDE HAD BEEN MAKING FRIENDS WITH MER- 
 LIN " 175 
 
 HlLDEGARDE FINDING HUGH AND MERLIN BY THE BROOK 201 
 
 HUGH AND COLONEL FERRERS 249 
 
 OVER THE JAM POTS 280 
 
 "HE GAVE ME A LUNGE IN QUART" 801 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE HOME ITSELF. 
 
 IT was a pleasant place. The house was 
 a large, low, old-fashioned one, with the 
 modern addition of a deep, wide verandah 
 running across its front. Before it was a 
 circular sweep of lawn, fringed with trees ; 
 beside it stood a few noble elms, which bent 
 lovingly above the gambrel roof. There were 
 some flower-beds, rather neglected-looking, 
 under the south windows, and there was a 
 kitchen-garden behind the house. This was 
 all that Hildegarde Grahame had seen so far 
 
 of her new home, for she had only just 
 
 11 
 
12 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 arrived. She stood now on the verandah, 
 looking about her with keen, inquiring eyes, 
 a tall, graceful girl, very erect, with a certain 
 proud carriage of the head. Her dress of black 
 and white shepherd's plaid was very simple, 
 but it fitted to perfection, and there was a 
 decided " air " to her little black felt hat. 
 
 Hildegarde's father had died about six 
 months before the time our story opens. He 
 had been very wealthy, but many of his 
 investments had shrunk in value, and the 
 failure of a bank whose cashier had proved 
 dishonest entailed heavy losses upon him ; 
 so that, after his death, it was found that 
 the sum remaining for his widow and only 
 child, after all debts were paid, was no very 
 large one. They would have enough to live 
 
 * 
 
 on, and to live comfortably ; but the " big 
 luxuries," as Hildegarde called them, the 
 horses and carriages, the great New York 
 house with its splendid furniture and troops 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 18 
 
 of servants, must go ; and go they did, with- 
 out loss of time. Perhaps neither Hildegarde 
 nor her mother regretted these things much. 
 Mrs. Grahame had been for years an indefati- 
 gable worker, giving most of her time to 
 charities ; she knew that she should never 
 rest so long as she lived in New York. 
 Hildegarde had been much in the country 
 during the past two years, had learned to 
 love it greatly, and found city life too " cab- 
 ined, cribbed, confined," to suit her present 
 taste. The dear father had always preferred 
 to live in town ; but now that he was gone, 
 they were both glad to go away from the 
 great, bustling, noisy, splendid place. So, 
 when Mrs. Grahame' s lawyer told her that 
 an aged relative, who had lately died, had 
 left his country house as a legacy to her, both 
 she and Hildegarde said at once, " Let us go 
 and live there ! " 
 
 Accordingly, here they were ! or to speak 
 
14 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 more accurately, here Hildegarde was, for 
 she and auntie (auntie was the black cook ; 
 she had been Mrs. Grahame's nurse, and had 
 been cook ever since Hildegarde was a baby) 
 had come by an early train, and were to have 
 everything as comfortable as might be by the 
 time Mrs. Grahame and the little housemaid, 
 who had stayed to help her pack the last 
 trifles, should arrive in the afternoon. 
 
 It was so pleasant on the wide verandah, 
 with the great elms nodding over it, that 
 Hildegarde lingered, until a mellow "Miss 
 Hildy, chile ! you comin' ? " summoned her 
 in-doors. Auntie had already put on her 
 white jacket and apron, without which she 
 never considered herself dressed, and her 
 muslin turban looked like a snow-drift on an 
 ebony statue. She had opened the door of a 
 large room, and was peering into it, feather 
 duster in hand. 
 
 " 'Spose this is the parlour ! " she said, with 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 15 
 
 
 
 a glance of keen observation. " Comicalest 
 parlour ever I see ! " 
 
 Hildegarde stepped lightly across the thresh- 
 old. It was a singular room, but, she thought, 
 a very pleasant one. The carpet on the 
 floor was thick and soft, of some eastern 
 fabric, but so faded that the colours were 
 hardly distinguishable. Against the walls 
 stood many chairs, delicate, spider-legged 
 affairs, with cushions of faded tapestry. 
 The curtains might once have been crim- 
 son, when they had any colour. A table in 
 the exact centre of the room was covered 
 with a worked cloth of curious and antique 
 pattern, and on it were some venerable annu- 
 als, and " Finden's Tableaux," bound in green 
 morocco. In a dim corner stood the great- 
 grandmother of all pianos. It was hardly 
 larger than a spinnet, and was made of some 
 light-coloured, highly polished wood, cunningly 
 inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl. Over 
 
16 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 the yellow keys was a painting, representing 
 Apollo (attired, to all appearance, like the 
 *< old man on a hill," in his grandmother's 
 gown), capering to the sound of his lyre, and 
 followed by nine young ladies in pink and 
 green frocks. The last young lady carried a 
 parasol, showing that the Muses thought as 
 much of their complexions as other people 
 do. At sight of this venerable instrument 
 Hildegarde uttered a cry of delight, and, run- 
 ning across the room, touched a few chords 
 softly. The sound was faint and tinkling, 
 but not unmusical. Auntie sniffed audibly. 
 
 " Reckon my kittle makes a better music 
 'an that ! " she said; and then, relenting, she 
 added, " might ha' been pooty once, I dassay. 
 That's a pooty picture, anyhow, over the 
 mankel-piece." 
 
 Hildegarde looked up, and saw a coloured 
 print of a lady in the costume of the First 
 Empire, with golden ringlets, large blue eyes, 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 17 
 
 particularly round rosy cheeks, and the most 
 amiable simper in the world. Beneath was 
 the inscription, " Madame Recamier, Napo- 
 leon's first love." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Hildegarde, half -laughing, 
 half-indignant, " how ridiculous ! She wasn't, 
 you know ! and she never looked like that, 
 any more than I do. But see, auntie ! see 
 this great picture of General Washington, in 
 his fine scarlet coat. I am sure you must 
 admire that ! Why ! it cannot be yes, it 
 is ! it is done in worsted-work. Fine cross- 
 stitch, every atom of it. Oh ! it makes my 
 eyes ache to think of it." 
 
 Auntie nodded approvingly. " That's what 
 I call work ! " she said. " That's what young 
 ladies used to do when I was a gal. Don't 
 see no sech work nowadays, only just a passel 
 o' flowers and crooked lines, and calls it 
 embr'idery." 
 
 " Oh ! you ungrateful old auntie," cried 
 
18 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 Hildegarde, " when I marked your towels so 
 beautifully last week. Here ! since you are 
 so fond of cross-stitch, take this dreadful yel- 
 low sofa-pillow, with pink roses worked on it. 
 It will just fit your own beloved rocking- 
 chair, with the creak in it, and you may have 
 it for your very own." 
 
 The pillow flew across the room, and auntie, 
 catching it, disappeared with a chuckle, while 
 Hildegarde resumed her examination of the 
 quaint old parlour. The " cross-stitch " was 
 everywhere: on the deep, comfortable old 
 sofa, where one leaned against a stag-hunt, 
 and had a huntsman blowing his horn on 
 either arm ; on the chairs, where one might 
 sit on baskets of flowers, dishes of fruit, or 
 cherubs' heads, as one's fancy dictated ; on 
 the long fender-stool, where an appalling line 
 of dragons, faintly red, on a ground that had 
 been blue, gaped open-mouthed, as if waiting 
 to catch an unwary foot. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 19 
 
 "Oh! their poor eyes!" cried Hildegarde. 
 "How could their mothers let them?" She 
 passed her hand compassionately over the 
 fine lines of the stag-hunt. "Were they 
 girls, do you suppose?" she went on, talking 
 to herself, as she was fond of doing. " Girls 
 like me, or slender old spinsters, like the 
 chairs and the piano ? Mamma must have 
 known some of them when she was a child ; 
 she said she had once made a visit here. I 
 must ask her all about them. Uncle Aytoun ! 
 what a pity he isn't alive, to show us about 
 his house ! But if he were alive, we should 
 not be here at all. So nice of you to leave 
 the house to mamma, dear sir, just as- if you 
 had been her real uncle, instead of her father's 
 cousin. You must have been a very nice old 
 gentleman. I like old gentlemen." The girl 
 paused, and presently gave an inquiring sniff. 
 " What is it ? " she said meditatively. " Not 
 exactly mould, for it is dry ; not must, for it 
 
20 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 is sweet. The smell of this particular room, 
 for it, suits it exactly. It is" she sniffed 
 again " it is as if some Aytoun ladies before 
 the flood had made pot-pourri, and it had some- 
 how kept dry. Let us examine this matter! " 
 She tiptoed about the room, and, going round 
 the corner of the great chimney, found a cup- 
 board snugly tucked in beside it. She opened 
 it, with a delightful thrill of curiosity. Hilde- 
 garde did love cupboards ! Of course, there 
 might be nothing at all but there was some- 
 thing ! On the very first shelf stood a row of 
 china pots, carefully covered, and from these 
 pots came the faint, peculiar perfume which 
 seemed so to form part of the faded charm of 
 the room. The pots were of delicate white 
 porcelain, one with gold sprigs on it, one with 
 blue flowers, and one with pink. " Belonging 
 to three Aytoun sisters ! " said Hildegarde. 
 " Of course ! dear things ! If they had only 
 written their names on the jars ! " She lifted 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 21 
 
 the gold-sprigged jar with reverent hands. 
 Lo, and behold ! On the cover was pasted 
 a neat label, which said, " Hester's recipe, 
 June, 18 ." She examined the other two 
 jars eagerly. They bore similar legends, with 
 the names "Agatha" and "Barbara." On 
 all the writing was in minute but strongly 
 marked characters ; the three hands were 
 different, yet there was a marked resemblance. 
 Hildegarde stood almost abashed, as if she 
 had found herself in presence of the three 
 ladies themselves. " The question is " she 
 murmured apologetically and then she 
 stooped and sniffed carefully, critically, at 
 the three jars in turn. " There is no doubt 
 about it ! " she said at last. " Hester's recipe 
 is the best, for it has outlived the others, and 
 given its character to the whole room. Poor 
 Miss Agatha and Miss Barbara ! How dis- 
 appointed they would be ! " As she closed 
 the cupboard softly and turned away, it al- 
 
22 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 most seemed almost, but not quite, for 
 though Hildegarde had a lively imagination, 
 she was not at all superstitious as though 
 she heard a faint sigh, and saw the shadowy 
 forms of the three Aytoun sisters turning 
 away sadly from the cupboard where their 
 treasure was kept. The shadow was her own, 
 the sigh was that of an evening breeze as it 
 stole in between the faded curtains ; but 
 Hildegarde had a very pretty little romance 
 made up by the time she reached the other 
 side of the long room, and when she softly 
 closed the door, it was not without a whis- 
 pered " good evening ! " to the three ladies 
 whom she left in possession. 
 
 Shaking off the dream, she ran quickly up 
 the winding stairs, and turned into the pleas- 
 ant, sunny room which she had selected as 
 the best for her mother's bedchamber. It 
 was more modern-looking than the rest of the 
 house, in spite of its quaint Chinese-patterned 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 23 
 
 chintz hangings and furniture ; this was 
 partly owing to a large bow-window which 
 almost filled one side, and through which the 
 evening light streamed in cheerfully. Hilde- 
 garde had already unpacked a trunk of " ali- 
 cumtweezles " (a word not generally known, 
 and meaning small but cherished possessions), 
 and the room was a pleasant litter of down 
 pillows, cologne-bottles, work-implements, pho- 
 tograph cases and odd books. Now she in- 
 spected the chairs with a keen and critical 
 eye, pounced upon one, sat down in it, shook 
 her head and tried another. Finding this to 
 her mind, she drew it into the bow- window, 
 half-filled it with a choice assortment of 
 small pillows, and placed a little table beside 
 it, on which she set a fan, a bottle of co- 
 logne, a particularly inviting little volume of 
 Wordsworth (Hildegarde had not grown up 
 to Wordsworth yet, but her mother had), a 
 silver bonbonni&re full of Marquis chocolate- 
 
24 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 drops, and a delicate white knitting-basket 
 which was having a little sunset of its own 
 with rose-coloured "Saxony." " There ! " said 
 Hildegarde, surveying this composition with 
 unfeigned satisfaction. " If that isn't attrac- 
 tive, I don't know what is. She won't eat 
 the chocolates, of course, bless her ! but they 
 give it an air, and I can eat them for her. 
 And now I must put away towels and pillow- 
 cases, which is not so interesting." 
 
 At this moment, however, the sound of 
 wheels was heard on the gravel, and tossing 
 the linen on the bed, Hildegarde ran down to 
 welcome her mother. 
 
 Mrs. Grahame was very tired, and was glad 
 to come directly up to the pleasant room, and 
 sink down in the comfortable chair which 
 was holding out its stout chintz arms to 
 receive her. 
 
 " What a perfect chair ! " she said, taking 
 off her bonnet and looking about her. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 25 
 
 " What a very pleasant room ! I know you 
 have given me the best one, you dear child ! " 
 
 "I hope so ! " said Hildegarde. "I meant 
 to, certainly Oh, no!" she started for- 
 ward and took the bonnet which Mrs. G-rahame 
 was about to lay on the table ; " this table is 
 to take things from, dear. I must give you 
 another to put things on." 
 
 " I see ! " said her mother, surveying the 
 decorated table with amusement. "'This is a 
 still-life piece, and a very pretty one. But 
 how can I possibly take anything off it ? I 
 should spoil the harmony. The straw-covered 
 cologne-bottle makes just the proper back- 
 ground for the chocolates, and though I 
 should like to wet my handkerchief with it, 
 I do not dare to disturb " 
 
 " Take care ! " cried Hildegarde, snatching 
 up the bottle and deluging the handkerchief 
 with its contents. " You might hurt my feel- 
 ings, Mrs. Grahame, and that would not be 
 
26 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 pleasant for either of us. And you know it 
 is pretty, quand meme ! " 
 
 " It is, my darling, very pretty ! " said her 
 mother, "and you are my dear, thoughtful 
 child, as usual. The Wordsworth touch I 
 specially appreciate. He is so restful, with 
 his smooth, brown covers. Your white 
 and gold Shelley, there, would have been 
 altogether too exciting for my tired nerves." 
 
 " Oh ! I have nothing to say against Mr. 
 W.'s covers ! " said Hildegarde with cheerful 
 malice. " They are charming covers. And 
 now tell me what kind of journey you had, 
 and how you got through the last agonies, 
 and all about it." 
 
 " Why, we got through very well indeed ! " 
 said Mrs. Grahame. " Janet was helpful and 
 quick as usual, and Hicks nailed up all the 
 boxes, and took charge of everything that 
 was to be stored or sold. Sad work ! but I 
 am glad it is done." She sighed, and Hilde- 
 
HILDEGARPE'S HOME. 27 
 
 garde sat down on the floor beside her, and 
 leaned her cheek against the beloved mother- 
 hand. 
 
 " Dear ! " she said, and that was all, for 
 each knew the other's thoughts. It was no 
 light matter, the breaking up of a home 
 where nearly all the young girl's life, and the 
 happiest years of her mother's, had been 
 passed. Every corner in the New York 
 house was filled with memories of the dear 
 and noble man whom they so truly mourned, 
 and it had seemed to them both, though they 
 had not spoken of it, as if in saying good-by 
 to the home which he had loved, they were 
 taking another and a more final farewell of 
 him. 
 
 So they sat in silence for a while, the ten- 
 der pressure of the hand saying more than 
 words could have done ; but when Mrs. Gra- 
 hame spoke at last, it was in her usual cheer- 
 ful tone. 
 
28 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " So at last everything was ready, and I 
 locked the door, and gave the keys to the 
 faithful Hicks" (Hicks had been the Grahames' 
 butler for several years), u and then Hicks 
 came down to the station with me, and did 
 everything that was possible to secure a com- 
 fortable journey for me and Janet." 
 
 " Poor Hicks ! " said Hildegarde, smiling. 
 " It must have been very hard for him to say 
 good-by to you and Janet." 
 
 " I think it was ! " said Mrs. Grahame. 
 *' He asked me, very wistfully, if we should 
 not need some one to take care of the garden, 
 and said he was very fond of out-door work ; 
 but I had to tell him that we should only 
 need a ' chore-man,' to do odds and ends of 
 work, and should not keep a gardener. At 
 this he put on a face like three days of rain, 
 as your Grimm story says, and the train 
 started, and that was all. 
 
 "And now tell me, Sweetheart," she added, 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 29 
 
 " what have been your happenings. First of 
 all, how do you like the house ? " 
 
 " Oh, it's a jewel of a house ! " replied Hil- 
 degarde with enthusiasm. " You told me it 
 was pleasant, but I had no idea of anything 
 like this. The verandah itself is worth the 
 whole of most houses. Then the parlour ! 
 such a wonderful parlour ! I am sure you 
 will agree with me that it would be sacrilege 
 to put any of our modern belongings in it. I 
 did give auntie one hideous sofa-pillow, but 
 otherwise I have touched nothing. It is a 
 perfect museum of cross-stitch embroidery, 
 sacred to the memory of Miss Barbara, Miss 
 Agatha, and Miss Hester." 
 
 Mrs. Grahame smiled. "How did you dis- 
 cover their names?" she asked. "I was 
 saving them for an after-supper ' tell ' for 
 you, and now you have stolen my thunder, 
 you naughty child." 
 
 " Not a single growl of it ! " cried Hilde- 
 
30 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 garde eagerly. " I am fairly prancing with 
 impatience to hear about them. All I know 
 is their names, which I found written on three 
 bow-pots in the cupboard. I went mousing 
 about, like little Silver-hair, and instead of 
 three porridge-pots, found these. Miss Hes- 
 ter's was the only pot that had any ' sniff ' 
 left to speak of; from which I inferred that 
 she was the sprightliest of the three sisters, 
 and perhaps the youngest and prettiest. Now 
 dorit tell ine that she was the eldest, and lack- 
 adaisical, and cross-eyed! " 
 
 " I will not ! " said Mrs. Grahame, laugh- 
 ing. ^ I will not tell you anything till I have 
 had my tea. I had luncheon at one o'clock, 
 and it is now " 
 
 "Seven!" cried Hildegarde, springing up, 
 and beating her breast. "You are starved, 
 my poor darling, and I am a Jew, Turk, 
 infidel, and heretic ; I always was ! " 
 
 She ran out to call Janet ; when lo, there 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 81 
 
 was Janet just coming up to tell them that 
 tea was ready. She was the prettiest possible 
 Janet, as Scotch as her name, with rosy 
 cheeks and wide, innocent blue eyes, and 
 "lint-white locks," as a Scotch lassie should 
 have. " No wonder," thought Hildegarde. 
 "that Hicks looked like 'drei Tage Regenwet- 
 ter' at parting from her." 
 
 " Tea is ready, you say, Janet ? " cried 
 Hildegarde. " That is good, for we are 
 'gay and ready,' as you say. Come, my 
 mother! let us go and see what auntie has 
 for us." 
 
 Mother and daughter went down arm-in- 
 arm, like two school-girls. They had to pick 
 their way carefully, for the lamps had not 
 been lighted, and there was not daylight 
 enough to shed more than a faint glimmer 
 on the winding stairs ; but when they reached 
 the dining-room a very blaze of light greeted 
 them. There were no less than six candles 
 
32 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 on the table, in six silver candlesticks shaped 
 like Corinthian columns. (Auntie had hidden 
 these candlesticks in her own trunk, with a 
 special eye to this effect.) On the table also 
 was everything good, and hot blueberry cake 
 beside ; and behind it stood auntie herself, 
 very erect and looking so solemn that Mrs. 
 Grahame and Hildegarde stopped in the door- 
 way, and stood still for a moment. The black 
 woman raised her head with a gesture of ten- 
 derness, not without majesty. 
 
 " De Lord bless de house to ye!" she said 
 solemnly. " De Lord send ye good victuals, 
 and plenty of 'em ! De Lord grant ye never 
 want for nothin', forever an' ever, give glory, 
 amen ! " 
 
 And with an answering " amen ! " on their 
 lips, Hildegarde and her mother sat down to 
 their first meal in their new home. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 83 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A DISH OF GOSSIP. 
 
 THE evening was too lovely to spend in the 
 house, so Mrs. Grahame and Hildegarde went 
 from the tea-table out on the verandah, where 
 some low, comfortable straw chairs were 
 already placed. It was June, and the air 
 was full of the scent of roses, though there 
 were none in sight. There was no moon, but 
 it was hardly missed, so brilliant were the 
 stars, flashing their golden light down through 
 the elm-branches. 
 
 They sat for some time, enjoying the quiet 
 beauty of the night. Then "I think we 
 shall be happy here, dear ! " said Hildegarde 
 softly. " It feels like home already." 
 
34 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say that ! " replied 
 her mother. " Surely the place itself is 
 charming. I hope, too, that you may find 
 some pleasant companions, of your own age. 
 Yes, I can see you shake your head, even in 
 the dark ; and of course we shall be together 
 constantly, my darling ; but I still hope you 
 will find some girl friend, since dear Rose 
 (Rose was Hildegarde's bosom friend) cannot 
 be with us this summer. Now tell me, did 
 you find Mrs. Lankton here when you ar- 
 rived ? We don't seem to have come down to 
 details yet." 
 
 Hildegarde began to laugh. 
 
 " I should think we did find her ! " she said. 
 " Your coming put it all out of my head, you 
 see. Well, when auntie and I drove up, there 
 was this funny little old dame standing in 
 the doorway, looking so like Mrs. Gummidge 
 that T wanted to ask her on the spot if Mr. 
 Peggotty was at home. She began shaking 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 35 
 
 her head and sighing, before we could get 
 out of the wagon. 'Ah, dear me!' she said. 
 ' Dear me ! and this is the young lady, I 
 suppose. Ah ! yes, indeed ! And the house- 
 keeper, I suppose. Well, well ! I'm proper 
 glad to see you. Ah, dear, dear ! ' All this 
 was said in a tone of the deepest dejection, 
 and she kept on shaking her head and sigh- 
 ing. Auntie spoke up pretty smartly, ' I'm 
 de cook!' she said. 'If you'll take dis basket, 
 ma'am, we'll do de lamintations ourselves ! ' 
 Mrs. Lankton didn't hear the last part of the 
 remark, but she took the basket, and auntie 
 and I jumped out. ' I suppose you are Mrs. 
 Lankton, the care-taker,' I said, as cheerfully 
 as I could. ' Ah, yes, dear ! ' she said, mourn- 
 fully. 'I'm Mrs. Lankton, the widow Lank- 
 ton, housekeeper to Mr. Aytoim as was, and 
 care-taker since his dee-cease. I've took care, 
 Miss Grahame, my dear. There ain't no one 
 could keep things more car'ful nor I have. If 
 
36 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 I've had trouble, it hasn't made me no less 
 car'ful. Ah, dear me ! it's a sorrowful world. 
 Perhaps you'd like to come in.' This seemed 
 to be a new idea to her, though we had been 
 standing with our hands full of bundles, only 
 waiting for her to move. She led the way 
 into the hall. < This is the hall ! ' she said 
 sadly; and then she stood shaking her head 
 like a melancholy mandarin. ' I s'pose 'tis ! ' 
 said auntie, who was quite furious by this 
 time, and saw no fun in it at all. ' And I 
 s'pose dis is a door, and I'll go t'rough it.' 
 And off she flounced through the door at the 
 back of the hall, where she found the kitchen 
 for herself, as we could tell by the rattling of 
 pans which followed. ' She's got a temper, 
 ain't she ? ' said Mrs. Lankton sadly. ' Most 
 coloured people has. There ! I had one my- 
 self, before 'twas took out of me by trouble. 
 Not that I've got any coloured blood in me, 
 for my father was Nova Scoshy and my 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 37 
 
 mother State of New York. Shall I take-yon 
 through the house, dear ? ' 
 
 " Poor Mrs. Lankton ! " said Mrs. Grahame, 
 laughing. " She is the very spirit of melan- 
 choly. I believe she has really had a good 
 deal of trouble. Well, dear ? " 
 
 " Well," resumed Hildegarde, " I really 
 could not have her spoil all the fun of going 
 over the house for me ; though of course she 
 was great fun herself in a way. So I thanked 
 her, and said I would not give her the trouble, 
 and said I supposed she lived near, and we 
 should often call on her when we wanted extra 
 help. ' So do, dear ! ' she said, ' so do ! I live 
 right handy by, in a brown cottage with a green 
 door, the only brown cottage, and the only 
 green door, so you can't mistake me. You've 
 got beautiful neighbours, too,' she added, still 
 in the depths of melancholy. ' Beautiful 
 neighbours ! Mis' Loftus lives in the stone 
 house over yonder. Ah, dear me ! She and 
 
38 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 her darter, they don't never set foot to the 
 ground, one year's eend to the other.' ' Dear 
 me ! ' I said. ' Are they both such invalids ? ' 
 6 No, dear ! ' said she, sighing as if she wished 
 they were. e Carriage folks ; great carriage 
 folks. Then there's Colonel Ferrers lives in 
 the brick house across the way. Beautiful 
 man, but set in his ways. Never speaks to a 
 soul, one year's eend to the other, in the way 
 o' talk, that is. Ah ! dear me, yes ! ' 
 
 " It sounds like Alice in Wonderland ! " 
 exclaimed Mrs. Grahame. " In that direction 
 lives a Hatter, and in that direction lives a 
 March Hare. Visit either you like ! they're 
 both mad." 
 
 " Oh, Mammina, it is exactly like it ! " cried 
 Hildegarde, clapping her hands. " You clever 
 Mammina ! I wonder if Colonel Ferrers has 
 long ears, and if his roof is thatched with 
 fur." 
 
 " Hush ! " said her mother, laughing. " This 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 39 
 
 will not do. I know Colonel Ferrers, and he 
 is an excellent man, though a trifle singular. 
 Well, dear, how did you part with your mel- 
 ancholy dame ?" 
 
 " She went away then," said Hildegarde. 
 " Oh, no, she didn't. I forgot ! she did insist 
 upon showing me the room where Uncle Aytoun 
 died ; and oh ! mamma, it is almost too bad 
 to tell, and yet it was very funny. She said 
 he died like a perfect gentleman, and made a 
 beautiful remains. Then, at last, she said 
 good-night and charged me to send for her if 
 any of us should be ill in the night. ' Comin' 
 strange in,' she said, ' it's likely to disagree 
 with some of you, and in spasms or anything 
 suddint, I'm dretful knowin'.' So she went 
 off at last, and it took me a quarter of an 
 hour to get auntie into a good temper again." 
 
 They laughed heartily at Mrs. Lankton's 
 idea of "the parting word of cheer"; and 
 then Hildegarde reminded her mother of the 
 
40 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " tell " she had promised her. " I want to 
 know all about the three ladies," she said. 
 " They seem more real than Dame Lankton, 
 somehow, for they belong here, and she never 
 could have. So ' come tell me all, my 
 mother, all, all that ever you know ! ' : 
 
 " It is not so very much, after all," replied 
 Mrs. Grahame, after a moment's thought. " I 
 came here once with my father, when I was 
 about ten years old, and stayed two t>r three 
 days. Miss Hester was already dead; she 
 was the youngest, the beauty of the family, 
 and she was still young when she died. Miss 
 Barbara was the eldest, a tall, slender woman, 
 with a high nose ; very kind, but a little stiff 
 and formal. She was the head of the family, 
 and very religious. It was Saturday, I re- 
 member, when we came, and she gave me 
 some lovely Chinese ivory toys to play with, 
 which filled the whole horizon for me. But 
 the next morning she took them away, and 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 41 
 
 gave me Baxter's ' Saint's Best,' which she 
 said I must read all the morning, as I had a 
 cold and could not go to church." 
 
 "Poor Mammina! " said Hildegarde. 
 
 " Not so poor," said her mother, smiling. 
 " Miss Agatha came to the rescue, and took 
 me up to her room, and let me look in the 
 drawers of a wonderful old cabinet, full of 
 what your dear father used to call 6 pick- 
 nickles and bucknickles.' ' 
 
 " Oh ! I know ; I found the cabinet yester- 
 day !" cried Hildegarde in delight. "I had 
 not time to look into it, but it was all drawers ; 
 a dark, foreign-looking thing, inlaid with 
 ivory ! " 
 
 " Yes, that is it," said her mother. " I 
 wonder if the funny things are still in it ? 
 Miss Agatha was an invalid, and her room 
 looked as if she lived in it a good deal. She 
 told me Bible stories in her soft, feeble voice, 
 and showed me a very wonderful set of 
 
42 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 coloured prints illustrating the Old Testament. 
 I remember distinctly that Joseph's coat was 
 striped, red, green, yellow, and blue, like a 
 mattress ticking gone mad, and that the she- 
 bear who came to devour the naughty chil- 
 dren was bright pink." 
 
 "Oh ! delightful! " cried Hildegarde, laugh- 
 ing. "I must try to find those prints." 
 
 " She told me, too, about her sister Hes- 
 ter," Mrs. Grahame went on; "how beautiful 
 she was, and how bright and gay and light- 
 hearted. ' She was the sunshine, my dear, 
 and we are the shadow, Barbara and I,' she 
 said. I remember the very words. And then 
 she showed me a picture, a miniature on 
 ivory, of a lovely girl of sixteen, holding a 
 small harp in her arms. She had large grey 
 eyes, I remember, and long fair curls. Dear 
 me ! how it all comes back to me, after the 
 long, long years. I can almost see that mini- 
 ature now. Why why, Hilda, it had a 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 43 
 
 little look of you; or, rather, you look like 
 it." 
 
 The girl flushed rosy red. " I am glad," 
 she said softly. " And she died young, you 
 say? Miss Hester, I mean." 
 
 " At twenty-two or three," assented her 
 mother. " It was consumption, I believe. 
 Cousin Wealthy Bond once told me that 
 Hester had some sad love affair, but I know 
 nothing more about it. I do know, however, 
 that Uncle Aytoun (he was the only brother, 
 you know, and spent much of his life at sea), 
 I do know that he was desperately in love 
 with dear Cousin Wealthy herself." 
 
 "Oh!" crie& Hildegarde. "Poor old 
 gentleman ! She couldn't, of course ; but I 
 am sorry for him." 
 
 " He was not old then," said Mrs. Grahame, 
 smiling. "He knew of Cousin Wealthy 's 
 own trouble, but he was very much in love, 
 and hoped he could make her forget it. One 
 
44 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 day Cousin Wealthy told me this years and 
 years afterward, apropos of my own engage- 
 ment one day Captain Aytoun came to see 
 her, and as it was a beautiful summer day, she 
 took him out into the garden to see some rare 
 lilies that were just in blossom. He looked at 
 the lilies, but said little ; he was a very silent 
 man. Presently he pulled out his card-case, 
 and took from it a visiting-card, on which 
 was engraved his name, ' Robert F. Aytoun.' 
 He wrote something on the card, and handed 
 it to Cousin Wealthy ; and she read, e Robert 
 F. Aytoun' s heart is yours.' ' 
 
 " Mammina ! " cried Hildegarde. " Can it 
 be true ? It is too funny ! But what could 
 she say ? Dear Cousin Wealthy ! " 
 
 "I remember her very words," said Mrs. 
 Graharne. " ' Captain Aytoun, it is not my 
 intention ever to marry ; but I esteem your 
 friendship highly, and I thank you for the 
 hon jur you offer me. Permit me to call your 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 45 
 
 attention to this new variety of ranunculus/ 
 But the poor captain said, Cousin Wealthy 
 could hardly bring herself to repeat this, 
 for she thought it very shocking, ' Con- 
 found the ranunculus ! ' and strode out of the 
 garden and away. And Cousin Wealthy took 
 the card into the house, and folded it up, and 
 wound pearl-coloured silk on it. It may be 
 in her work-basket now, for she never de- 
 stroys anything." 
 
 " Oh ! that was a most delightful < tell ' ! " 
 sighed Hildegarde. " And now go on about 
 Miss Agatha." 
 
 " I fear that is all, dear," said her mother. 
 "I remember singing some hymns, which 
 pleased the kind cousin. Then Miss Barbara 
 came home from church ; and I rather think 
 her conscience had been pricking her about 
 the ' Saint's Rest,' for she took me down and 
 gave me some delicious jelly of rose leaves, 
 which she said was good for a cold. We had 
 
46 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 waffles for tea, I remember, and we put cinna- 
 mon and sugar on them ; I had never tasted 
 the combination before, so I remember it. It 
 was in a glass dish shaped like a pineapple. 
 And after tea Miss Barbara tinkled ' Jeru- 
 salem, the Golden ' on the piano, and we all 
 sang, and I went to bed at nine o'clock. 
 And that reminds me," said Mrs. Grahame, 
 " that it must now be ten o'clock or after, and 
 6 time for all good little constitutional queens 
 to be in bed.' " 
 
 "Oh! must we go to bed?" sighed Hilde- 
 garde. "It is so very particularly lovely 
 here. Well, I suppose we should have to go 
 some time. Good-night, dear stars! good- 
 night, all beautiful things that I know are 
 there, though I cannot see you ! " 
 
 Hildegarde helped her mother to lock up 
 the house, and then, after a parting word and 
 caress, she took her candle and went to the 
 room she had chosen for her own. It opened 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 47 
 
 out of her mother's dressing-room, so that by 
 setting the doors ajar, they could talk to each 
 other when so minded ; and it had a dressing- 
 room of its own on the other side, from 
 which a flight of narrow, corkscrew stairs 
 descended to the ground floor. These stairs 
 had attracted Hildegarde particularly. It 
 seemed very pleasant and important to have 
 a staircase of one's own, which no one else 
 could use. It is true that it was very dark, 
 very crooked and steep, but that was no 
 matter. The bedroom itself was large and 
 airy ; a little bare, perhaps, but Hildegarde 
 did not mind that. The white paint was 
 very fresh and clean, and set off the few 
 pieces of dark old mahogany furniture well, 
 a fine bureau, with the goddess Aurora career- 
 ing in brass across the front of the top 
 drawer ; a comfortable sofa, with cushions 
 of the prettiest pale green chintz, with rose- 
 buds scattered over it ; a round table ; a few 
 
48 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 spider-legged chairs ; and a nondescript piece 
 of furniture, half dressing-table, half chest of 
 drawers, which was almost as mysteriously 
 promising as the inlaid cabinet in Miss 
 Agatha's room. The bed was large and 
 solemn-looking, with carved posts topped by 
 pineapples. The floor was bare, save for a 
 square of ancient Turkey carpet in the middle. 
 Hildegarde held the candle above her head, and 
 surveyed her new quarters with satisfaction. 
 
 " Nice room ! " she said, nodding her head. 
 " The sort of room I have been thinking 
 of ever since I outgrew flounces, and bows 
 on the chairs. Dear papa ! When I was at 
 the height of the flounce fever, he begged 
 me to have a frock and trousers made 
 for the grand piano, as he was sure it must 
 wound my sensibilities to see it so bare. 
 Dear papa ! He would like this room, too. 
 It is a little strange-garrety to-night, but 
 wait till I get the Penates out to-morrow ! " 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 49 
 
 She nodded again, and then, putting on 
 her wrapper, proceeded to brush out her long, 
 fair hair. It was beautiful hair ; and as it 
 fell in shining waves from the brush, Hilde- 
 garde began to think again of the dead 
 Hester, who had had fair hair, too, and whom 
 her mother had thought she resembled a 
 little. She hoped that this might have been 
 Hester's room. Indeed, she had chosen it 
 partly with this idea, though chiefly because 
 she wished to be near her mother. It cer- 
 tainly was not Miss Agatha's room, for that 
 was on the other side of the passage. Her 
 mother's room had been Miss Barbara's, she 
 was quite sure, for " B " was embroidered on 
 the faded cover of the dressing-table. An- 
 other large room was too rigid in its aspect 
 to have been anything but a spare room or a 
 death chamber, and Mr. Aytoun's own room, 
 where he had died like a gentleman and 
 become a "beautiful remains," was on the 
 
50 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 ground floor. Therefore, it was very plain, 
 this must have been Hester's room. Here 
 she had lived her life, a girl like herself, 
 thought Hildegarde, and had been gay and 
 light-hearted, the sunshine of the house ; and 
 then she had suffered, and faded away 
 and died. It was with a solemn feeling that 
 the young girl climbed up into the great bed, 
 and laid her head where that other fair head 
 had lain. Who could tell what was coming 
 to her, too, in this room ? And could she 
 make sunshine for her mother, who had lost 
 the great bright light which had warmed and 
 cheered her during so many years? Then 
 her thoughts turned to that other light which 
 had never failed this dear mother ; and so, 
 with a murmured " My times be in thy 
 hand ! " Hildegarde fell asleep. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 51 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MORNING HOURS. 
 
 "The year's at the spring, 
 And day's at the morn: 
 Morning's at seven ; 
 The hill-side's dew-pearled : 
 The lark's on the wing; 
 The snail's on the thorn; 
 God's in his heaven 
 All's right with the world I" 
 
 THESE seemed the most natural words to 
 sing, as Hildegarde looked out of her window 
 next morning; and sing them she did, with 
 all her heart, as she threw open the shutters 
 and let the glad June sunlight stream into 
 the room. All sad thoughts were gone with 
 the night, and now there seemed nothing but 
 joy in the world. 
 
52 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 "Where art thou, tub of my heart?" cried 
 the girl ; and she dived under the bed, and 
 pulled out the third reason for her choosing 
 this room. Her mother, she knew, would 
 not change for anything the comfortable 
 "sitz," the friend of many years; so Hilde- 
 garde felt at full liberty to enjoy this great 
 white porcelain tub, shallow, three feet across, 
 with red and blue fishes swimming all over it. 
 She did not know that Captain Robert Aytoun 
 had brought it in the hold of his ship all the 
 way from Singapore, for his little Hester, but 
 she did know that it was the most delightful 
 tub she had ever dreamed of; and as she 
 splashed the crystal water about, she almost 
 ceased, for the first time, to regret the blue 
 river which had been her daily bathing-place 
 the summer before. Very fresh and sweet 
 she looked, when at last the long locks were 
 braided in one great smooth braid, and the 
 pretty grey gingham put on and smoothed 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 53 
 
 down. She nodded cheerfully to her image 
 in the glass. It was, as dear Cousin Wealthy 
 said, a privilege to be good-looking, and Hil- 
 degarde was simply and honestly glad of her 
 beauty. 
 
 "Now," she said, when the room was 
 " picked up," and everything aerable hung up 
 to air, " the question is, Go out first and ar- 
 range the Penates after breakfast, or arrange 
 the Penates now and go out later?" One 
 more glance from the window decided the 
 matter. " They must wait, poor dears ! After 
 all, it is more respectful to take them out 
 when the room is made up than when it is 
 having its sheet and pillow-case party, like 
 this." 
 
 She went down her own staircase with a 
 proud sense of possession, and opening the 
 door at its foot, found herself in a little cov- 
 ered porch, from which a flagged walk led 
 toward the back of the house. Here was a 
 
54 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 pleasant sort of yard, partly covered with 
 broad flags, with a grassy space beyond. 
 Here were clothes-lines, well, and woodshed ; 
 and here was auntie, standing at her kitchen 
 door, and looking well satisfied with her new 
 quarters. 
 
 " What a pleasant yard, auntie ! " said Hil- 
 degarde. " This is your own domain, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 "Reckon 'tis!" replied the good woman, 
 smiling. " Jes' suits me, dis does. I kin 
 have some chickens here, and do my washin' 
 out-doors, and spread out some, 'stead o' bein' 
 cooped up like a old hen myself." 
 
 A high wall surrounded auntie's domain, 
 and Hildegarde looked round it wonderingly. 
 
 " Oh ! there is a door," she said. " I 
 thought mamma said there was a garden. 
 That must be it, beyond there. Call me when 
 breakfast is ready, please, auntie." Passing 
 through the door, she closed it after her, 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 55 
 
 and entered another world. A dim, green 
 world, wholly different from the golden, 
 sunny one she had just left; a damp world, 
 where the dew lay heavy on shrubs and bor- 
 ders, and dripped like rain from the long, 
 pendent branches of the trees. The paths 
 were damp, and covered with fine green moss. 
 Great hedges of box grew on either side, un- 
 trimmed, rising as high as the girl's head ; 
 and as she walked between them their cool 
 glossy leaves brushed against her cheek. 
 Here and there was a neglected flower-bed, 
 where a few pallid rosebuds looked sadly 
 out, and pinks flung themselves headlong 
 over the border, as if trying to reach the 
 sunlight ; but for the most part the box and 
 the great elms and locusts had it their own 
 way. Hildegarde had never seen such 
 locust-trees ! They were as tall as the elms, 
 their trunks scarred and rough with the 
 frosts of many winters. No birds sang in 
 
56 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 their green, whispering depths ; the silence 
 of the place was heavy, weighted down with 
 memories of vanished things. 
 
 " I have no right to come here ! " said 
 Hildegarde to herself. " I am sure they 
 would not like it." Something white glim- 
 mered between the bending boughs of box 
 which interlaced across her path. She half 
 expected to see a shadowy form confront her 
 and wave her back ; but, pushing on, she saw 
 a neglected summer-house, entirely covered 
 with the wild clematis called virgin' s-bower. 
 She peeped in, but did not venture across 
 the threshold, because it looked as if there 
 might be spiders in it. Through the oppo- 
 site door, however, she caught a glimpse of 
 a very different prospect, a flash of yellow 
 sunlight, a sunny meadow stretching up and 
 away. Skirting the summer-house carefully, 
 she came upon a stone wall, the boundary 
 of the garden, beyond which the broad 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 57 
 
 meadow lay full in the sunlight. Sitting 
 on this wall, Hildegarde felt as if half of 
 her were in one world, and half in the 
 other ; for the dark box and the drooping 
 elm-branches came, to the very edge of the 
 wall, while all beyond was rioting in morn- 
 ing and sunshine. 
 
 "The new world and the old one, 
 The green world arid the gold one ! " 
 
 she murmured, and smiled to find herself 
 dropping into poetry, like Silas Wegg. 
 
 At this moment a faint sound fell on her 
 ear, a far-away voice, which belonged wholly 
 to the golden world, and had nothing what- 
 ever to do with the green. " Hi-ya ! Miss 
 Hildy chile ! " the mellow African voice came 
 floating down through the trees with an im- 
 perious summons ; and Hildegarde jumped 
 down from her stone perch, and came out 
 of her dream, and went in to breakfast. 
 
58 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 "And what is to be done, Mammina?" 
 asked Hildegarde, when the " eggs and the 
 ham and the strawberry jam " were things of 
 the past, and they were out on the piazza 
 again. " Do you realise, by the way, that we 
 shall live chiefly on this piazza ? " 
 
 " It is certainly a most delightful place," 
 said Mrs. Grahame. " And I do realise that 
 while it would be quite out of the question to 
 change anything in Miss Barbara's sacred 
 parlour, it is not exactly the place to be cosy 
 in. But, dear child, I shall have to be in my 
 own room a good deal, as this arranging of 
 your dear father's papers will be my chief 
 work through the summer, probably." 
 
 " Oh, of course ! and I shall be in my room 
 a good deal, for there is sewing, and all that 
 German I am going to read, and oh, and 
 quantities of things to do ! But still we 
 shall live here a great deal, I am sure. It is 
 just a great pleasant room, with one side of 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 59 
 
 it taken off. And it is very quiet, with the 
 strip of lawn, and the ledge beyond. One 
 cannot see the road, except just a bit through 
 the gate. Sometimes you can bring your 
 writing down here, and I can grub in the 
 flower-bed and disturb you." 
 
 "Thank you!" said her mother, laughing. 
 " The prospect is singularly attractive. But, 
 dear, you asked me a few minutes ago what 
 was to be done. I thought it would be pleas- 
 ant if we took out our various little belong- 
 ings, and disposed them here and there." 
 
 "Just what I was longing to do!" cried 
 Hildegarde. "All my precious alicumtweezles 
 are crying out from the trunk, and waiting 
 for me. But don't you want me to see the 
 butcher for you, love, or let auntie tell me 
 what she is going to make for dessert, or 
 perform any other sacred after-breakfast 
 rites ?" 
 
 Mrs. Grahame shook her head, smiling, and 
 
60 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 Hildegarde flew upstairs, like an arrow shot 
 from a bow. 
 
 In her room stood a huge trunk, already 
 unlocked and unstrapped, and a box whose 
 aspect said plainly that it contained books. 
 All the dresses had been taken out the day 
 before and hung in the roomy closet, pretty, 
 simple gowns, mostly white or grey, for the 
 dear father had disliked kk mourning" ex- 
 tremely. Now Hildegarde took out her hats, 
 the broad-brimmed straw with the white daisy 
 wreath, the pretty white shirred mull for best, 
 the black " rough and ready" sailor for com- 
 mon wear. These were laid carefully on a 
 shelf in the closet, and covered with a light 
 cloth to keep them from dust. This done 
 as a matter of duty, the pleasant part began. 
 One after another, a most astonishing array of 
 things were taken from the trunk and laid on 
 the bed, which spread a broad white surface 
 to receive them : a trinket-box of ebony and 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 61 
 
 silver; a plaster cast of the Venus of Milo, 
 another of the Pompeian Psyche, both 
 "treated" in some way that gave them the 
 smooth lustre of old ivory ; a hideous little 
 Indian idol, carved out of dark wood, with 
 eyes of real carbuncle ; a doll's tea-set of 
 exquisite blue and white china, brought to 
 Hildegarde from Pekin by a wandering uncle, 
 when she was eight years old ; a stuffed 
 hawk, confidently asserted by its owner to be 
 the original "jolly gosshawk " of the Scottish 
 ballad, which could " speak and flee " ; a Swiss 
 cuckoo clock ; several great pink-lipped shells ; 
 a butterfly net ; a rattlesnake's skin ; an ex- 
 quisite statuette of carved wood, representing 
 Theodoric, King of the Ostrogoths, a copy 
 
 * 
 
 of the famous bronze statue at Innsbruck ; a 
 large assortment of pasteboard boxes, of all 
 sizes and shapes ; three or four work-baskets ; 
 last of all, some framed photographs and 
 engravings, and a number of polished pieces 
 
62 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 of wood, which were speedily put together 
 into a bookcase and two or three hanging 
 shelves. On these shelves and on the man- 
 tel-piece the various alicumtweezles were ar- 
 ranged and re-arranged, till at length Hilde- 
 garde gave a satisfied nod and pronounced 
 them perfect. " But now comes the hard 
 part ! " she said. " The pictures ! Who shall 
 have the post of honour over the mantel-piece ? 
 Come here, dear persons, and let me look at 
 you ! " She took up two engravings, both 
 framed in gilt laurel leaves, and studied them 
 attentively. One was the portrait of a man 
 in cavalier dress, strikingly handsome, with 
 dark, piercing eyes and long, curling hair. 
 The expression of the face was melancholy, 
 almost sombre ; yet there was a strange fasci- 
 nation in its stern gaze. On the margin was 
 written, 
 
 "John Grahame of Claverhouse, 
 "Viscount Dundee." 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 68 
 
 The other portrait showed an older man, clad 
 in a quaint dress, with a hat that would have 
 been funny on any other head, but seemed not 
 out of place here. The face was not beau- 
 tiful, but calm and strong, with earnest, 
 thoughtful eyes, and a firm mouth and chin. 
 The legend bore, in curious black-letter, the 
 
 words, 
 
 " William of Orange Nassau, 
 " Hereditary Grand Stadt-holder of the Netherlands." 
 
 No one save Hildegarde knew that on the 
 back of this picture, turned upside down in 
 perpetual disgrace and ridicule, was a hideous 
 little photograph of Philip II. of Spain. It 
 was a constant gratification to her to know 
 that it was there, and she occasionally, as 
 now, turned it round and made insulting 
 remarks to it. She hoped the great Granger 
 liked to know of this humiliation of his coun- 
 try's foe; but William the Silent kept his 
 own counsel, as was always his way. 
 
64 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 And now the question was, Which hero was 
 to have the chief place ? 
 
 " You are the great one, of course, my 
 saint ! " said Hildegarde, gazing into the calm 
 eyes of the majestic Dutchman, " and we all 
 know it. But you see, he is an ancestor, and 
 so many people hate him, poor dear ! " 
 
 She looked from one to the other, till the 
 fixed gaze of the pictured eyes grew really 
 uncomfortable, and she fancied that she saw 
 a look of impatience in those of the Scottish 
 chieftain. Then she looked again at the 
 space above the mantel-piece, and, after meas- 
 uring it carefully with her eyes, came to a 
 new resolution. 
 
 " You see," she said, taking up a third pict- 
 ure, a beautiful photograph of the Sistine 
 Madonna, " I put her in the middle, and you 
 on each side, and then neither of you can 
 say a word." 
 
 This arrangement gave great satisfaction ; 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 65 
 
 and the other pictures, the Correggio cher- 
 ubs, Kaulbach's "Lili," the Raphael "violin- 
 player," and "St. Cecilia," were easily dis- 
 posed of on the various panels, while over 
 the dressing-table, where she could see it 
 from her bed, was a fine print of Murillo's 
 lovely " Guardian Angel." 
 
 Hildegarde drew a long breath of satisfac- 
 tion as she looked round on her favourites in 
 their new home. " So dear they are ! " she 
 said fondly. " I wish Hester could see them. 
 Don't you suppose she had any pictures? 
 There are no marks of any on the wall. 
 Well, and now for the books ! " 
 
 Hammer and screwdriver were brought, 
 and soon the box was opened and the books 
 in their places. Would any girls like to know 
 what Hildegarde's books are? Let us take 
 a glance at them, as they stand in neat rows 
 on the plain, smooth shelves. Those big vol- 
 umes on the lowest shelf are Scudder's 
 
66 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 "Butterflies," a highly valued work, full of 
 coloured plates, over which Hildegarde sighs 
 with longing rapture ; for, from collecting 
 moths and butterflies for her friend, Bubble 
 Chirk, she has become an ardent collector 
 herself, and in one of the unopened cases 
 downstairs is an oak cabinet with glass- 
 covered drawers, very precious, containing 
 several hundred " specimens." 
 
 Here is " Robin Hood," and Gray's Botany, 
 and Percy's "Reliques," and a set of George 
 Eliot, and one of Charles Kingsley, and the 
 " Ingoldsby Legends," and Aytoun's " Lays of 
 the Scottish Cavaliers," which looks as if it 
 had been read almost to pieces, as indeed it 
 has. (There is a mark laid in at the " Burial 
 March of Dundee," which Hildegarde is learn- 
 ing by heart. This young woman has a 
 habit of keeping a book of poetry open on 
 her dressing-table when she is doing her hair, 
 and learning verses while she brushes out 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 67 
 
 her long locks. It is a pleasant habit, though 
 it does not tend to accelerate the toilet.) 
 
 On the next shelf is " Cranford," also well 
 thumbed, and everything that Mrs. Ewing 
 ever wrote, and " Betty Leicester," and Miss 
 Yonge's historical stories, and the " Tales of 
 a Grandfather," and " Lorna Doone," and the 
 dear old " Days of Bruce," and " Scottish 
 Chiefs," side by side with the "Last of the 
 Barons," and the " Queens of England," and the 
 beloved Homer, in Derby's noble translation, 
 also in brown leather. Here, too, is " Ses- 
 ame and Lilies," and Carlyle on Hero- 
 Worship. 
 
 The upper shelf is entirely devoted to 
 poetry, and here are Longfellow and Tenny- 
 son, of course, and Milton (not "of course"), 
 and Scott (in tatters, worse off than Aytoun), 
 and Shelley and Keats, and the Jacobite 
 Ballads, and Allingham's Ballad Book, and 
 Mrs. Browning, and "Sir Launfal," and the 
 
68 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. * 
 
 " Golden Treasury," and " Children's Gar- 
 land." There is no room for the handy 
 volume Shakespeare, so he and his box must 
 live on top of the bookcase, with his own 
 bust on one side and Beethoven's on the other. 
 These are flanked in turn by photographs 
 of Sir Walter, with Maida at his feet, and 
 Edwin Booth as Hamlet, both in those pretty 
 glass frames which are almost as good as no 
 frame at all. 
 
 "And if you are not a pleasant sight," 
 said Hildegarde, falling back to survey her 
 work, and addressing the collection compre- 
 hensively, " then I never saw one, that's all. 
 Isrit it nice, dear persons?" she contin- 
 ued, turning to the portraits, which from 
 their places over the mantel-piece had a full 
 view of the bookcase. 
 
 But the persons expressed no opinion. In- 
 deed, I am not sure that William the Silent 
 could read English ; and Dundee's knowledge 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 69 
 
 of literature was slight, if we may judge 
 from his spelling. I should not, however, 
 wish Hildegarde to hear me say this. 
 
 Failing to elicit a response from her two 
 presiding heroes, our maiden turned to Sir 
 Walter, who always knew just how things 
 were ; and from this the natural step was to 
 the " Lay of the Last Minstrel " (which she 
 had not read so very lately, she thought, 
 with a guilty glance at the trunk and box, 
 which stood in the middle of the room, yawn- 
 ing to be put away), and there was an end 
 of Hildegarde till dinner-time. 
 
 "And that is why I was late, dear love ! " 
 she said, as after a hasty explanation of the 
 above related doings, she sank down in her 
 chair at the dinner-table, and gave a furtive 
 pat to her hair, which she had smoothed 
 rather hurriedly. " You know you would 
 have brained me with the hammer, if I had 
 not put it away, and that the tacks would 
 
70 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 have been served up on toast for my supper. 
 Such is your ferocious disposition.'* 
 
 Mrs. Grahame smiled as she helped Hilde- 
 garde to soup. " Suppose a stranger should 
 pass by that open window and hear your 
 remarks," she said. " A pretty idea he 
 would have of my maternal care. After all, 
 my desire is to keep tacks out of your food. 
 How long ago was it that I found a button 
 in the cup of tea which a certain young 
 woman of my acquaintance brought me ? " 
 
 "Ungenerous! " exclaimed Hildegarde with 
 tragic fervour. " It was only a glove-button. 
 It dropped off my glove, and it would not 
 have disagreed with you in the least. I 
 move that we change the subject." And at 
 that moment in came Janet with the veal 
 cutlets. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 71 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A WALK AND AN ADVENTURE. 
 
 ONE lovely afternoon, after they were well' 
 settled, and all the unpacking was done, Hilde- 
 garde started out on an exploration tour. 
 She and her mother had already taken one or 
 two short walks along the road near which 
 their house stood, and had seen the brand-new 
 towers of Mrs. Loftus's house, " pricking a 
 cockney ear" on the other side of the way, 
 and had caught a glimpse of an old vine- 
 covered mansion, standing back from the 
 road and almost hidden by great trees, which 
 her mother said was Colonel Ferrer s's house. 
 
 But now Hildegarde wanted a long tramp ; 
 she wanted to explore that sunny meadow 
 
72 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 that lay behind the green garden, and the 
 woods that fringed the meadow again beyond. 
 So she put on a short corduroy skirt, that 
 would not tear when it caught on the bushes, 
 slung a tin plant-box over her shoulder, kissed 
 her mother, who had a headache and could 
 not go, and started off in high spirits. She 
 was singing as she ran down the stairs and 
 through auntie's sunny back yard, and the mar- 
 tial strains of " Bonny Dundee " rang merrily 
 through the clear June air ; but as she closed 
 the garden door behind her, the song died 
 away, for "one would as soon sing in a 
 churchyard," she thought, " as in the Ladies' 
 Garden." So she passed silently along be- 
 tween the box hedges, her footsteps making 
 no sound on the mossy path, only the 
 branches rustling softly as she put them aside. 
 The afternoon sun sent faint gleams of pallid 
 gold down through the branches of the great 
 elm ; they were like the ghosts of sunbeams. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 73 
 
 Her ear caught the sound of falling water, 
 which she had not noticed before ; she turned 
 a corner, and lo ! there was a dusky ravine, 
 and a little dark stream falling over the 
 rocks, and flowing along with a sullen mur- 
 mur between banks of fe.rn. It was part of 
 the green world. The mysterious sadness of 
 the deserted garden was here, too, and Hilde- 
 garde felt her glad spirits going down, down, 
 as if an actual weight were pressing on her. 
 But she shook off the ^oppression. "I will 
 not !" she said. "I will not be enchanted 
 to-day ! Another day I will come and sit 
 here, and the stream will tell me all the 
 mournful story ; I know it will if I sit long 
 enough. But to-day I want joy, and sun- 
 shine, and cheerful things. Good-by, dear 
 ladies! I hope you won't mind!" and grasp- 
 ing the hanging bough of a neighbouring elm, 
 she swung herself easily down into the 
 meadow. 
 
74 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 It was a very pleasant meadow. The grass 
 was long, so long that Hildegarde felt rather 
 guilty at walking through it, and framed a 
 mental apology to the farmer as she went 
 along. It was full of daisies and sorrel, so it 
 was not his best mowing-field, she thought. 
 She plucked a daisy and pulled off the petals 
 to see whether Rose loved her, and found she 
 did not, which made her laugh in a foolish, 
 happy way, since she knew better. Now she 
 came to a huge sycamore-tree, a veritable 
 giant, all scarred with white patches where 
 the bark had dropped off. Beside it lay 
 another, prostrate. The branches had been 
 cut off, but the vast trunk showed that it had 
 been even taller than the one which was now 
 standing. " Baucis and Philemon ! " said 
 Hildegarde. " Poor dears ! One is more 
 sorry for the one who is left, I think, than for 
 the fallen one. To see him lying here with 
 his head off, and not to be able to do anything 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 75 
 
 about it ! She cannot even ' tear her ling- 
 long yellow hair' only it is green. I won- 
 der who killed him." And she went on, 
 murmuring to herself, 
 
 " They shot him dead on the Nine-Stane Rigg, 
 
 Beside the Headless Cross. 
 And they left him lying in his blood 
 Upon the moor and moss/ 7 
 
 as if Barthram's Dirge had anything to do 
 with the story of Baucis and Philemon. But 
 this young woman's head was very full of 
 ballads and scraps of old songs, and she was 
 apt to break into them on any or no pretext. 
 She went on now with her favourite dirge, 
 half reciting, half chanting it, as she mounted 
 the sunny slope before her. 
 
 " They made a bier of the broken bough, 
 
 The sauch and the aspen grey, 
 And they bore him to the Lady Chapel 
 And waked him there all day. 
 
76 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " A lady came to that lonely bower, 
 
 And threw her robes aside. 
 She tore her ling-long yellow hair, 
 And knelt at Barthram's side. 
 
 " She bathed him in the Lady- Well, 
 
 His wounds sae deep and sair, 
 And she plaited a garland for his breast, 
 And a garland for his hair. 
 
 " They rowed him in a lily-sheet 
 
 And bare him to his earth, 
 And the grey friars sung the dead man's mass, 
 As they passed the Chapel Garth. 
 
 " They buried him at the mirk midnight, 
 
 When the dew fell cold and still ; 
 When the aspen grey forgot to play, 
 And the mist clung to the hill. 
 
 " They dug his grave but a bare foot deep 
 
 By the edge of the Nine-Stane Burn, 
 And they covered him o'er with the heather flower, 
 The moss and the lady fern. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 77 
 
 " A grey friar stayed upon the grave 
 
 And sung through the morning tide. 
 And a friar shall sing for Barthram's soul 
 While Headless Cross shall bide." 
 
 Now she had reached the fringe of trees at 
 the top of the slope, and found that it was the 
 beginning of what looked like a considerable 
 wood. " A pine wood ! " said Hildegarde, 
 sniffing the spicy perfume with delight. " Oh, 
 pleasant place ! No plants, but one cannot 
 have everything. Oh! how good it smells 1 
 and hark to the sound of the sea ! * I shall call 
 this Ramoth Hill." She walked along, keep- 
 ing near the edge of the wood, where it was 
 still warm and luminous with sunshine. Now 
 she looked up into the murmuring cloud of 
 branches above her, now she looked down at 
 the burnished needles which made a soft, 
 thick carpet under her feet ; and she said 
 again, " Oh, pleasant place ! " Presently, in 
 one of the upward glances, she stopped short. 
 
78 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 Her look, from carelessly wandering, became 
 keen and intent. On one of the branches of 
 the tree under which she stood was a small, 
 round object. "A nest!" said Hildegarde. 
 " The question is, What nest ? " She walked 
 round and round the tree, like a pointer who 
 has " treed " a partridge ; but no bird rose 
 from the nest, nor could she see at all what 
 manner of nest it was. Finding this to be 
 the case, she transferred her scrutiny from the 
 nest to the tree. It was a sturdy pine, with 
 strong, broad branches jutting out, the low- 
 est not so very far above her head, a most 
 attractive tree, from every point of view. 
 Hildegarde leaned against the trunk for a 
 moment, smiling to herself, and listening to 
 the " two voices." " You are seventeen years 
 old," said one voice. " Not quite," said the 
 other. " Not for a month yet. Besides, 
 what if I were ? " " Suppose some one should 
 come by and see you ? " said the first voice. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 79 
 
 " But no one will," replied the second. 
 "And perhaps you can't do it, anyhow," 
 continued the first ; " it would be ridiculous 
 to try, and fail." " Just wait and see ! " said 
 the second voice. And when it had said that, 
 Hildegarde climbed the tree. 
 
 I shall not describe exactly how she did it, 
 for it may not have been in the most approved 
 style of the art ; but she got up, and seated 
 herself on the broad, spreading branch, not so 
 very much out of breath, all things considered, 
 and with only two scratches worth mention- 
 ing. After a moment's triumphant repose, she 
 worked her way upward to where the nest was 
 firmly fixed in a crotch, and bent eagerly over 
 it. A kingbird's nest ! this was great joy, for 
 she had never found one before. There were 
 five eggs in it, and she gazed with delight at 
 the perfect little things. But when she touched 
 them gently, she found them quite cold. The 
 nest was deserted. " Bad little mother ! " 
 
80 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 said Hildegarde. " How could you leave the 
 lovely things ? Such a perfect place to bring 
 up a family in, too ! " She looked around 
 her. It was very pleasant up in this airy 
 bower. Great level branches stretched above 
 and below her, roof and floor of soft, dusky 
 plumes. The keen, exquisite fragrance seemed 
 to fold round her like a cloud ; she felt fairly 
 steeped in warmth and perfume. Sitting 
 curled up on the great bough, her back rest- 
 ing against the trunk, the girl fell into a 
 pleasant waking dream, her thoughts wan- 
 dering idly here and there, and the sound of 
 the sea in her ears. She was an enchanted 
 princess, shut in a green tower by the sea. 
 The sea loved her, and sang to her all day 
 long the softest song he knew, and no angry 
 waves ever came to make clamour and con- 
 fusion. By and by a rescuer would come, 
 
 "A fairy prince, with joyful eyes, 
 And lighter-footed than the fox." 
 
"IT WAS VERY PLEASANT UP IN ?HIS AlKY BOWER.' 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 88 
 
 He would stand beneath the green tower, and 
 call to her : 
 
 " Hallo, there ! you young rascal, come 
 down ! How dare you rob birds' nests in my 
 woods ? " 
 
 The voice was deep and stern, and Hilde- 
 garde started so violently that she nearly fell 
 from her perch. She could not speak for the 
 moment, but she looked down, and saw a 
 fierce-looking old gentleman, clad in a black 
 velvet coat and spotless white trousers, bran- 
 dishing a thick stick, and peering with angry, 
 short-sighted eyes up into the tree. 
 
 " Come down, I say ! " he repeated sternly. 
 " I'll teach you to rob my nests, you young 
 vagabond! " 
 
 This was really not to be endured. 
 
 " I am not robbing the nest, sir ! " cried 
 Hildegarde, indignation overcoming her alarm. 
 " I never did such a thing in my life. And I 
 I am not a boy ! " 
 
84 HILDEGAKDE'S HOME. 
 
 " Harry Monmouth ! " exclaimed the old 
 gentleman. " I beg ten thousand pardons ! 
 What are you?" 
 
 Hildegarde's first impulse was to say that 
 she lived in Alaska (that being the most dis- 
 tant place she could think of), and was on her 
 way thither ; but fortunately the second 
 thought came quickly, and she replied with 
 as much dignity as the situation allowed : 
 
 " I am the daughter of Mrs. Hugh Gra- 
 hame. I live at Braeside" (I have forgot- 
 ten to mention that this was the name of 
 the new home), " and have wandered off our 
 own grounds without knowing it. I am ex- 
 tremely sorry to be trespassing, but but 
 I only wanted to see what kind of nest it was." 
 
 She stopped suddenly, feeling that there 
 was a little sob somewhere about her, and 
 that she would die rather than let it get 
 into her voice. The old gentleman took off 
 his hat. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 85 
 
 "My dear young lady," he said, "the 
 apologies are all on my side. Accept ten 
 thousand of them, I beg of you ! I am 
 delighted to make the acquaintance of Mrs. 
 Grahame's daughter, under a any cir- 
 cumstances." (Here he evidently suppressed 
 a chuckle, and Hildegarde knew it, and hated 
 him.) " Permit me to introduce myself, 
 Colonel Ferrers. 
 
 "I have been annoyed lately," he added 
 kindly, " by thieving boys, and, being near- 
 sighted, did not distinguish between a per- 
 secutor and a protector of my birds." He 
 bowed again. " And now I will continue my 
 walk, merely remarking that I beg you to con- 
 sider yourself entirely free of my grounds, in 
 any and every part. I shall do myself the 
 honour of calling on your mother very shortly. 
 Good-morning, my dear Miss Grahame ! " 
 and, with another bow, Colonel Ferrers re- 
 placed his felt wide-awake, and strode off 
 
86 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 across the meadow, flourishing his stick, and 
 indulging in the chuckle which he had so 
 'long suppressed. 
 
 " Harry Mon mouth ! " he said to himself, 
 as he switched the daisy-heads off. " So we 
 have a fair tomboy for a neighbour. Well, it 
 may be a good thing for Jack. I must take 
 him over and introduce him." 
 
 Now Hildegarde was not in the least a 
 tomboy, as we know ; and the intuitive 
 knowledge that the old gentleman would 
 think her one made her very angry indeed. 
 She waited till he was out of sight, and then 
 slid down the tree, without a second glance 
 at the kingbird's nest, the innocent cause of 
 all the trouble. She had meant to take one 
 egg, to add to her collection ; but she would 
 not touch one now, if there were a thousand 
 of them. She ran down the long sunny 
 slope of the meadow, her cheeks glowing, 
 her heart still beating angrily. She was 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 87 
 
 going straight home, to tell her mother all 
 about it, and how horrid Colonel Ferrers had 
 been, and how she should never come down- 
 stairs when he came to the house never ! 
 " under any circumstances ! " How dared 
 he make fun of her ? She sat down on the 
 stone wall to rest, and thought how her 
 mother would hear the tale with sympathetic 
 indignation. But somehow how was it ? 
 when she conjured up her mother's face, 
 there was a twinkle in her eye. Mamma had 
 such a fatal way of seeing the funny side of 
 things. Suppose she should only laugh at this 
 dreadful adventure ! Perhaps perhaps it was 
 funny, from Colonel Ferrers' s point of view. 
 
 In short, by the time she reached home, 
 Hildegarde had cooled off a good deal, and 
 it was a modified version of the tragedy that 
 Mrs. Grahame heard. She found this quite 
 funny enough, however, and Hildegarde was 
 almost, but not quite, ready to laugh with her. 
 
88 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 That evening, mother and daughter were 
 sitting on the broad verandah as usual, play- 
 ing Encyclopaedias. This was a game of Mrs. 
 Grahame's own invention, and a favourite 
 resource with her and Hildegarde in darkling 
 hours like this. Perhaps some of my readers 
 may like to know how the game is played, 
 and, as the Dodo says of the Caucus Kace, 
 "the best way to explain it is to play it." 
 
 They began with the letter " A," and had 
 already been playing some time, turn -and 
 turn about. 
 
 " Aphrodite, goddess of Love and Beauty." 
 
 " Ahasuerus, king of Persia, B.C. something 
 or other, afflicted with sleeplessness." 
 
 "Alfred the Great, unsuccessful tender of 
 cakes." 
 
 " ^Eneas, pious ; from the flames of Troy 
 did on his back the old Anchises bear; also 
 deserted Dido." 
 
 " Ananias, liar." 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 89 
 
 " Anacreon, Greek poet." 
 
 " Allan-a-dale, minstrel and outlaw." 
 
 " Andromache, wife of Hector." 
 
 u Astyanax, son of the same." 
 
 " Oh don't you think it's time to go on 
 to B ? " asked Hildegarde. 
 
 "I have several more A's," replied her 
 mother. 
 
 "Well, my initials are not 4 B. U.,' " said 
 the girl, " but perhaps I can manage one or 
 two more." 
 
 " B. U. ? " 
 
 " Yes ! Biographic Universelle, of course, 
 dear. Artaxerxes, also king of Persia." 
 
 " Anne of Geierstein." 
 
 "Arabella Stuart." 
 
 "Ap Morgan, Ap Griffith, Ap Hugh, Ap 
 Tudor, Ap Rice, quoth his roundelay." 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! that was one of my reserves. 
 Azrael, the angel of death." 
 
 " Agamemnon, king of men." 
 
90 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 "Alecto, Fury." 
 
 " Agag, who came walking delicately." 
 
 " Addison, Joseph, writer." 
 
 " Antony, Mark, Roman general, lover of 
 Cleopatra." 
 
 "'Amlet, Prince of " 
 
 " Hilda ! " cried Mrs. Grahame. " For 
 shame ! It is certainly high time to go on to 
 B, if you are going to behave in this way, 
 and I shall put e d after it." 
 
 "Oh, no!" said Hildegarde, "I will be 
 good. It isn't nine o'clock yet, I know. 
 Buccleugh, Bold, Duke of, Warden here o' 
 the Scottish side. I was determined to get 
 him first." 
 
 " Balaam, prophet." 
 
 " Beatrice, in ' Much Ado about Nothing.' ' 
 
 " Beatrix Esmond." 
 
 " Bruce, Robert, King of Scotland." 
 
 " Burns, Robert, King of Scottish poets." 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! well, I suppose he is ! " Hilda 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 91 
 
 admitted reluctantly. But Sir Walter makes 
 an admirable viceroy. I think who is 
 that ? Mamma, there is some one coming up 
 the steps." 
 
 "Mrs. Grahame?" said a deep voice, as 
 two shadowy forms emerged from the dark- 
 ness. "I am delighted to meet you again. 
 You remember Colonel Ferrers ? " 
 
 " Perfectly ! " said Mrs. Grahame, cordially, 
 advancing and holding out her hand. " I am 
 very glad to see you, Colonel Ferrers, though 
 I hardly do see you ! ". she added, laughing. 
 " Hildegarde, here is Colonel Ferrers, whom 
 you met this morning." 
 
 "Good evening!" said Hildegarde, think- 
 ing that mamma was very cruel. 
 
 " Delighted ! " said Colonel Ferrers, bow- 
 ing again ; and he added, " May I be allowed 
 to present my nephew ? Mrs. Grahame, Miss 
 Grahame, my nephew, John Ferrers." 
 
 A tall figure bowed awkwardly, and a voice 
 
92 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 murmured something which might have been 
 a greeting in English, Choctaw, or pure Poly- 
 nesian, as it was wholly unintelligible. 
 
 " It is too pleasant an evening to spend in 
 the house/' said Mrs. Grahame. " I think 
 you will find chairs, gentlemen, by a little 
 judicious groping. Oh ! I trust you are not 
 hurt, Mr. Ferrers?" For Mr. Ferrers had 
 tumbled over his chair, and was now sprawling 
 at full length on the piazza. He gathered 
 himself up again, apparently too much abashed 
 to say a word. 
 
 " Oh ! he's all right ! " said Colonel Ferrers, 
 laughing. " He's always tumbling about ; 
 just got his growth, you see, and hasn't 
 learned what to do with it. Well, many 
 things have happened since we met, Mrs. 
 Grahame; we won't say how many years it is." 
 
 "Many things, indeed!" said Mrs. Gra- 
 hame with a sigh. 
 
 " Yes ! yes ! " said Colonel Ferrers. " Poor 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 93 
 
 Grahame ! met him last year in town ; never 
 saw him looking better. Well, so it goes. 
 Changing world, my dear Madame ! Poor 
 Aytoun, too ! I miss him sadly. My only 
 neighbour. We have been together a great 
 deal since his sisters died. Yes ! yes ! very 
 glad I was to hear that he had left the prop- 
 erty to you. Not another soul to speak to 
 in the neighbourhood." 
 
 " Who lives in the large new house across 
 the way?" asked Mrs. Grahame. "I know 
 the name of the family is Loftus, but nothing 
 
 more." 
 
 "Parcel of fools, I call 'em ! " said Colonel 
 Ferrers, contemptuously. " New people, with 
 money. Loftus, sharp business man, wants 
 to be a gentleman farmer. As much idea of 
 farming as my stick has. Wife and daugh- 
 ters look like a parcel o' fools. Don't know 
 'em ! don't want to know 'em ! " Mrs. Gra- 
 hame, finding this not an agreeable subject, 
 
94 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 turned the conversation upon old friends, and 
 they were soon deep in matters of twenty 
 years ago. 
 
 Meanwhile Hildegarde and the bashful 
 youth had sat in absolute silence. At first 
 Hildegarde had been too much discomposed by 
 her mother's allusion to the mornkig's advent- 
 ure to speak, though she was able to see 
 afterwards how much better it was to bring 
 up the matter naturally, and then dismiss it 
 as a thing of no consequence, as it was, than 
 to let it hang, an unacknowledged cloud, in 
 the background. 
 
 As the moments went on, however, she 
 became conscious that it was her duty to 
 entertain Mr. Ferrers. He evidently had no 
 idea of saying anything ; her mother and 
 Colonel Ferrers had forgotten the presence of 
 either of them, apparently. The silence be- 
 came more and more awkward. What could 
 she say to this gawky youth, whose face she 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 95 
 
 could not even see ? " What a lovely day it 
 has been ! " she finally remarked, and was 
 startled by the sound of her own voice, 
 though she was not usually shy in the least. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Ferrers, " it has been a 
 fine day." 
 
 Silence again. This would never do ! "Do 
 you play tennis?" she asked boldly. 
 
 " No not much ! ' was the reply. 
 " Doesn't pay, in hot weather." 
 
 This was not encouraging, but Hildegarde 
 was fairly roused by this time, and had no 
 idea of being beaten. " What do you do ? " 
 she said. 
 
 Mr. Ferrers was silent, as if considering. 
 
 "Oh-- 1 don't know!" he said finally. 
 " Nothing much. Poke about ! " Then, after 
 a pause, he added in explanation, " I don't 
 live here. I only came a few days ago. I 
 am to spend the summer with my uncle." 
 Apparently this effort was too much for him, 
 
96 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 for he relapsed into silence, and Hildegarde 
 could get nothing more save " Yes ! " and 
 u No ! " out of him. But now Colonel Ferrers 
 came to the rescue. 
 
 " By the way, Mrs. Grahame," he said, " I- 
 think this boy must be a Delation of yours, a 
 Scotch cousin at least. His mother was a 
 Grahame, daughter of Robert Grahame of Bal- 
 timore. His own name is John Grahame 
 Ferrers." 
 
 "Is it possible?" cried Mrs. Grahame, 
 greatly surprised. " If that is the case, he is 
 much more than a Scotch cousin. Why, 
 Robert Grahame was my dear husband's first 
 cousin. Their fathers were brothers. Hugh 
 often spoke of his cousin Robert, and regretted 
 that they never met, as they were great friends 
 in their boyhood. And this is his son ! is it 
 possible ? My dear boy, I must shake hands 
 with you again. You are a boy, aren't you, 
 though you are so big ? " 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 97 
 
 " To be sure he is a boy ! " said Colonel 
 Ferrers, who was highly delighted with his 
 discovery of a relationship. "Just eighteen 
 a mere snip of a boy ! Going to college 
 in the autumn." 
 
 " Hildegarde," continued Mrs. Grahame, 
 " shake hands with your cousin John, and 
 tell him how glad you are to find him." 
 
 Hildegarde held out her hand, and John 
 Ferrers tried to find it, but found a hanging- 
 basket instead, and knocked it over, sending 
 a shower of damp earth over the other mem- 
 bers of the party. 
 
 " I must take him home," exclaimed Colonel 
 Ferrers, in mock despair, " or he will destroy 
 the whole house. Miss Hildegarde," he added, 
 in a very kind voice, "you probably thought 
 me an ogre this morning. I am generally 
 regarded as such. Fact is, you frightened 
 me more than I frightened you. We are not 
 used to seeing young ladies here who know 
 
98 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 how to climb trees. Harry Monmouth ! Wish 
 I could climb 'em myself as I used. Best fun 
 in the world ! Come, Jack, I must get you 
 home before you do any more mischief. Good- 
 night, Mrs. Grahame ! I trust we shall meet 
 often ! " 
 
 " I trust so, indeed ! " said Mrs. Grahame 
 heartily. " We shall count upon your being 
 neighbourly, in the good old country sense ; 
 and as for John, he must do a cousin's duty 
 by us, and shall in return receive the freedom 
 of the house." 
 
 " Hum mum mum ! " said John ; at least, 
 that is what it sounded like ; on which his 
 uncle seized him by the arm impatiently, and 
 walked him off. 
 
 " Well, Mammina ! " said Hildegarde, when 
 the visitors were well out of hearing. 
 
 " Well, dear ! " replied her mother placidly. 
 " What a pleasant visit ! The poor lad is 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 99 
 
 very shy, isn't he ? Could you make anything 
 out of him?" 
 
 " Why, Mammina, he is a perfect goose ! " 
 exclaimed Hildegarde, warmly. " / don't 
 think it was a pleasant visit at all. As to 
 making anything out of that - 
 
 " Fair and softly ! " said Mrs. Grahame 
 quietly. " In the first place, we will not criti- 
 cise the guests who have just left us, because 
 that is not pretty-behaved, as auntie would 
 say. And in the second place your dear 
 father was just eighteen when I first met him, 
 Hildegarde ; and he put his foot through the 
 flounce of my gown, upset strawberries and 
 cream into my lap, and sat down on my new 
 ivory fan, all at one tea-party." 
 
 " Good-night, dear mamma ! " said Hilde- 
 garde meekly. 
 
 " Good-night, my darling ! and don't forget 
 that barn-door rent in your corduroy skirt, 
 when you get up in the morning." 
 
100 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 UNCLE AND NEPHEW. 
 
 COLONEL FERRERS and his nephew walked 
 away together, the former with a quick, mili- 
 tary stride, the latter shambling, as lads do 
 whose legs have outgrown their understand- 
 ing of them. 
 
 " Don't hunch, sir ! " exclaimed the Colonel, 
 throwing his broad shoulders back and his 
 chin to the position of "eyes front." "Put 
 your chin in and your chest out, and don't 
 hunch! You have about as much carriage, 
 my nephew Jack, as a rheumatic camel. 
 Well!" (as poor Jack straightened his awk- 
 ward length and tried to govern his prancing 
 legs). " So Mrs. Grahame is a connection, 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 101 
 
 after all; and a very charming woman, too. 
 And how did you find the young lady, sir? 
 Did she give you any points on tree-climb- 
 ing ? Ho ! ho ! I was wrong, though, about 
 her being a tomboy. She hasn't the voice of 
 one. Did you notice her voice, nephew? it is 
 very sweet and melodious. It reminded me 
 of of a voice I remember." 
 
 "I like her voice!" replied Jack Ferrers. 
 By the way, his own voice was a very pleas- 
 ant one, a well-bred and good-tempered voice. 
 " I couldn't see her face very well. I can't 
 talk to girls!" he added. "I don't know 
 what to say to them. Why did you tell them 
 about mother, Uncle Tom ? There was no 
 need of their knowing." 
 
 " Why did I tell them ? " exclaimed Colonel 
 Ferrers. " Harry Monmouth ! I told them, 
 you young noodle, because I chose to tell 
 them, and because it was the truth, and a 
 mighty lucky thing for you, too. What with 
 
102 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 your poor mother's dying young, and your 
 father's astonishing and supernatural wrong- 
 headedness, you have had no bringing up 
 whatever, my poor fellow ! Talk of your 
 going to college next year ! why, you don't 
 know how to make a bow. I present you to 
 two charming women, and you double your- 
 self up as if you had been run through the 
 body, and then stumble over your own legs 
 and tumble over everything else. Shade of 
 Chesterfield ! How am I to take you about, 
 if this is the way you behave ? " 
 
 "It was dark," said poor Jack. "And 
 and I don't want to be taken about, uncle, 
 thank you. Can't I just keep quiet while I 
 am here, and not see people ? I don't know 
 
 how to talk, really I don't." 
 
 * 
 
 "Pooh! pooh! sir," roared the Colonel, 
 smiting the earth with his stick. " Have the 
 goodness to hold your tongue ! You know 
 how to talk nonsense, and I request you'll 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. ' 103 
 
 not do it to me. You are my brother's son, 
 sir, and I shall make it my business to teach 
 you to walk, and to talk, and to behave like 
 a rational Christian, while you are under my 
 roof. If your father had the smallest atom 
 of common sense in his composition " 
 
 " Please don't say anything against father, 
 Uncle Tom," cried the lad. " I can't stand 
 that ! " and one felt in the dark the fiery 
 flush that made his cheeks tingle. 
 
 " Upon my soul ! " cried Colonel Ferrers 
 (who did not seem in the least angry), "you 
 are the most astounding young rascal it has 
 ever been my good fortune to meet. Are 
 you aware, sir, that your father is my brother ? 
 that I first made the acquaintance of Ray- 
 mond Ferrers when he was one hour old, 
 a squeaking little scarlet wretch in a flannel 
 blanket ? Are you aware of this, pray ? " 
 
 "I suppose I am," answered the lad. 
 " But that doesn't make any difference. No- 
 
104 ' HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 body must say anything against him, even if 
 it is his own brother." 
 
 " Who is saying anything against him ? " 
 demanded Colonel Ferrers, fiercely. " He is 
 an angel, sir; every idiot knows that. A 
 combination of angel and infant, Raymond 
 Ferrers is, and always has been. But the 
 combination does not qualify him for bring- 
 ing up children. Probatum est ! Here we 
 are ! Now let me see if you can open the 
 gate without fumbling, sir. If there is one 
 thing I cannot endure, it is fumbling." 
 
 Thus adjured, Jack Ferrers opened the 
 heavy wooden gate, and the two passed 
 through a garden which seemed, from the 
 fragrance, to be full of roses. The old house 
 frowned dark and gloomy, with only one 
 light twinkling feebly in a lower window. 
 When they had entered, and were standing in 
 the pleasant library, book-lined from floor to 
 ceiling, Colonel Ferrers turned suddenly to 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 105 
 
 his nephew, who was in a brown study, and 
 dealt him a blow on the shoulder which sent 
 him staggering half-way across the room, un- 
 expected as it was. 
 
 " You're right to stand up for your father, 
 my lad," he said, with gruff heartiness. " It 
 was unnecessary in this case, for I would be 
 cut into inch pieces and served up 011 toast if 
 it would do my brother Raymond any good ; 
 but you are right all the same. If anybody 
 else ever says he hasn't common sense, knock 
 him down, do you hear ? A blow from the 
 shoulder, sir ! that's the proper answer." 
 
 " Yes, uncle," 8aid the boy demurely ; but 
 he looked up with a twinkle in his eye. " It's 
 lucky for me that I dorit have to knock 
 you down, sir," he added. " You're awfully 
 strong, aren't you ? I wish I were ! " 
 
 " You, sir ! " rejoined the Colonel. " You 
 have the frame of an ox, if you had any flesh 
 to cover it. Exercise is what you need, 
 
106 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 Nephew Jack ! Fencing is what you want, 
 sir ! Take that walking-stick ! Harry Mon- 
 mouth ! I'll give you a lesson, now. On 
 guard ! So ! defend yourself ! Ha ! humph ! " 
 The last exclamation was one of disgust, for. 
 at the Colonel's first thrust, Jack's stick flew 
 out of his hand, and knocked over a porcelain 
 vase, shattering it in pieces, Jack, mean- 
 while, standing rubbing his arm and looking 
 very foolish. 
 
 " Humph ! " repeated Colonel Ferrers, look- 
 ing rather disconcerted himself, and all the 
 more fierce therefore. " That comes of trying 
 to instruct a person who has not been taught 
 to hold himself together. You are a milksop, 
 my poor fellow ! a sad milksop ! but we are 
 going to change all that. There ! never mind 
 about the pieces. Giuseppe will pick up the 
 pieces. Get your supper, and then go to bed." 
 
 " I don't care about supper, thank you, 
 uncle/' said the lad. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 107 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! don't talk nonsense ! " cried 
 the Colonel. " You don't go to bed without 
 supper." 
 
 He led the way into the dining-room, a 
 long, low room, panelled with dark oak. 
 Walls, table, sideboard, shone like mirrors, 
 with the polish of many years. Over the 
 sideboard was the head of a gigantic moose, 
 with huge, spreading antlers. On the side- 
 board itself were some beautiful pieces of old 
 silver, shining with the peculiar blue lustre 
 that comes from long rubbing, and from that 
 alone. A tray stood on the table, and on it 
 was a pitcher of milk, two glasses, and a plate 
 of very attractive-looking little cakes. The 
 colonel filled Jack's glass, and stood by with 
 grim determination till he had drunk every 
 drop. 
 
 "Now, a cake, sir," he added, sipping his 
 own glass leisurely. "A plummy cake, of 
 Mrs. Beadle's best make. Down with it, I 
 
108 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 insist ! " In the matter of the plum cake, 
 little insistence was necessary, and between 
 uncle and nephew both plate and pitcher were 
 soon empty. 
 
 " There," said the good Colonel, as they 
 returned to the library, " now you have some- 
 thing to sleep on, my friend. No empty 
 stomachs in this house, to distract people's 
 brains and make mooncalves of them. Ten 
 minutes' exercise with the Indian clubs 
 you have them in your room ? and then to 
 bed. Hand me the ' Worthies of England,' 
 will you ? Bookcase on the right of the door, 
 third shelf from the bottom, fifth book from 
 the left. Thomas Fuller. Yes, thank you. 
 Good-night, my boy ! don't forget the clubs, 
 and don t poke your head forward like a ritu- 
 alist parson, because you are not otherwise 
 cut out for one." 
 
 Leaving his uncle comfortably established 
 with his book and reading-lamp, Jack Ferrers 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 109 
 
 took his way upstairs. It was not late, but 
 he had already found out that his uncle had 
 nothing to say to him or any one else after 
 the frugal nine o'clock supper, and his own 
 taste for solitude prompted him to seek his 
 room. As he passed along a dark corridor, a 
 gleam of light shot out from a half -open 
 door. 
 
 " Are you awake, Biddy ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, dear ! " answered a kind, hearty 
 voice. " Come in, Master Jack, if you've a 
 mind." 
 
 The room was so bright that Jack screwed 
 up his eyes for a moment. The lamp was 
 bright, the carpet was bright, the curtains 
 almost danced on the wall from their own 
 gayety, while the coloured prints, in shining 
 gilt frames, sang the whole gamut^of colour 
 up and down and round and round. But 
 brighter than all else in the gay little room 
 was the gay little woman who sat by the 
 
* 110 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 round table (which answered every purpose 
 of a mirror), piecing a rainbow-coloured quilt. 
 Her face was as round and rosy as a Graven- 
 stein apple. She had bright yellow ribbons 
 in her lace cap, and her gown was of the 
 most wonderful merino that ever was seen, 
 with palm-leaves three inches long curling on 
 a crimson ground. 
 
 "How very bright you are in here, Biddy! " 
 said Jack, sitting down on the floor, with his 
 long legs curled under him. " You positively 
 make my eyes ache." 
 
 "It's cheerful, dear," replied the good 
 housekeeper. " I like to see things cheerful, 
 that I do. Will you have a drop of shrub, 
 Master Jack ? there's some in the cupboard 
 there, and 'twill warm you up, like, before 
 going to bed." 
 
 Then, as Jack declined the shrub with 
 thanks, she continued, "And so you have 
 been to call on the ladies at Braeside, you and 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. Ill 
 
 the Colonel. Ah ! and very sweet ladies, I'm 
 told." 
 
 " Very likely ! " said Jack absently. " Do 
 you mind if I pull the cat's tail, Biddy ? " 
 
 He stretched out his hand toward a superb 
 yellow Angora cat which lay curled up on a 
 scarlet cushion, fast asleep. 
 
 " Oh ! my dear ! " cried Mrs. Beadle. 
 "Don't you do it! He's old, and his temper 
 not what it was. Poor old Sunshine ! and 
 why would you pull his tail, you naughty 
 boy?" 
 
 " Oh ! well no matter ! " said Jack. 
 "There's a fugue that's a piece of music, 
 Biddy that I am practising, called the < Cat's 
 Fugue,' and T thought I would see if it really 
 sounded like a cat, that's all." 
 
 "Indeed, that's not such music as I should 
 like your uncle to hear ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Beadle. " And what did you say to the 
 young lady, Master Jack?" she added, as 
 
112 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 she placed a scarlet block against a purple 
 one. " I'm glad enough you've found some 
 young company, to make you gay, like. 
 You're too quiet for a young lad, that you 
 
 are." 
 
 " Oh, bother ! " responded Jack, shaking his 
 shoulders. " Tell me about my father, Biddy. 
 I don't believe he liked g company, any 
 better than I do. What was he like when he 
 was a boy ? " 
 
 "An angel!" said Mrs. Beadle fervently. 
 "An angel with his head in his pocket; that 
 is what Mr. Raymond was like." 
 
 " Uncle Tom called him an angel, too ! " 
 said the lad. " Of course he is ; a combina- 
 tion of angel and why did you say 'with 
 his head in his pocket,' Biddy ? " 
 
 "Well, dear, it wasn't on his shoulders," 
 replied the housekeeper. " He was in a 
 dream, like, all the time ; oh, much worse 
 than you are yourself, Master Jack/' 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 113 
 
 " Thank you ! " muttered Jack. 
 
 " And forgetful ! well ! well ! he needed to 
 be tied to some one, Mr. Raymond did. To 
 see him come in for his luncheon, and then 
 forget all about it, and stand with a book in 
 his hand, reading as if there was nothing else 
 in the world. And then Mr. Tom dear! 
 dear ! would put his head down and run and 
 butt him right in the stomach, and down they 
 would go together and roll over and over ; 
 great big lads, like you, sir, and their father 
 would take the dog- whip and thrash 'em till 
 they got up. 'Twas all in sport like, d'ye see ; 
 but Mr. Raymond never let go his book, only 
 beat Mr. Tom with it. Dear ! dear ! such 
 lads ! " 
 
 "Tell me about his running away," said 
 Jack. 
 
 "After the fiddler, do you mean, dear? 
 That was when he was a little lad. Always 
 mad after music he was, and playing on any- 
 
114 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 thing he could get hold of, and singing like a 
 serup, that boy. So one day there came 
 along an Italian, with a fiddle that he played 
 on, and a little boy along with him, that had 
 a fiddle, too. Well, and if Mr. Raymond 
 didn't persuade that boy to change clothes 
 with him, and he to stay here and Mr. Ray- 
 mond to go with the fiddler and learn to 
 play. Of course the man was a scamp, and 
 had no business ; and Mr. Raymond gave 
 him his gold piece to take him, and all ! But 
 when the old Squire that's your grandfather, 
 dear ! when he came in and found that little 
 black-eyed fellow dressed in his son's clothes, 
 and crying with fright, and not a word of 
 English well, he was neither to hold nor 
 to bind, as the saying is. Luckily Mrs. Fer- 
 rers that's your grandmother, dear ! she 
 came in before the child was frightened into 
 a fit, though very near it ; and she spoke the 
 language, and with her quiet ways she got 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 115 
 
 the child quiet, and he told her all about it, 
 and how the fiddler beat him, and showed 
 the great bruises. And when she told the 
 Squire, he got black in the face, like he used, 
 and took his dog-whip and rode off on his big 
 grey horse like mad ; and when he came back 
 with Mr. Raymond in front of him, the whip 
 was all in pieces, and Mr. Raymond crying 
 and holding the little fiddle tight. And the 
 Italian boy stayed, and the Squire made a 
 man of him, from being a Papist outlandish- 
 man. And that's all the story, Master Jack." 
 
 "And he is Giuseppe ?" asked Jack. . 
 
 " And he is Jew Seppy," Mrs. Beadle 
 assented. " Though it seems a hard name 
 to give him, and no Jew blood in him that 
 any one can prove, only his eyes being black. 
 But he won't hear to its being shortened. 
 And now it is getting to be night-cap time, 
 Master Jack," said the good woman, begin- 
 ning to fold up her work, "and I hope you 
 
116 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 are going to bed, too, like a good young gen- 
 tleman. But if you don't, you'll shut the 
 door careful, won't you dear ? " 
 
 " Never fear," said the boy, gathering 
 himself up from the floor. " I'm sleepy to- 
 night, anyhow ; I may go straight to bed. 
 Good-night, Biddy. You're quite sure you 
 like me to call you ' Biddy ' ? " 
 
 " My dear, it makes me feel five-and-twenty 
 years younger!" said the good woman; "and 
 I seem to see your dear father, coming in 
 with his curls a-shaking, calling his Biddy. 
 Ah, well ! Good-night, Master Jack, dear ! 
 Don't forget to look in when you go by." 
 
 "Good-night, Biddy!" 
 
 The lad went off with his candle, fairly 
 stumbling along the corridor from sheer 
 sleepiness ; but when he reached his own 
 room, which was flooded with moonlight, the 
 drowsiness seemed to take wings and disap- 
 pear. He sat down by the open window and 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 117 
 
 looked out. Below lay the garden, all black 
 and silver in the intense white light. The 
 smell of the roses came up to him, exquisitely 
 sweet. He leaned his head against the win- 
 dow-frame, and felt as if he were floating 
 away on the buoyant fragrance far, far 
 away, to the South, where his home was, and 
 where the roses were in bloom so long that 
 it seemed as if there were always roses. 
 
 The silver-lit garden vanished from his 
 sight, and he saw instead a long, low room, 
 half garret, half workshop, where a man 
 stood beside a long table, busily at work with 
 some fine tools. The spare, stooping figure, 
 the long, delicate hands, the features carved 
 as if in ivory, the blue, near-sighted 
 eyes peering anxiously at the work in his 
 hands, all these were as actually present to 
 the boy as if he could put out his own hand 
 and touch them. It was with a start that he 
 came back to the world of tangible surround- 
 
118 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 ings, as a sudden breath of wind waved the 
 trees below him, and sent whisperings of leaf 
 and blossom through his room. 
 
 "Daddy!" he said half to himself; and 
 he brushed away something which had no 
 possible place in the eyes of a youth who was 
 to go to college next year. Giving himself 
 a violent shake, Jack Ferrers rose, and, going 
 to a cupboard, took out with great care a 
 long, black, oblong box. This he deposited 
 on the bed ; then took off his boots and put 
 on a pair of soft felt slippers. His coat, too, 
 was taken off ; and then, holding the black 
 box in his arms, as if it were a particularly 
 delicate baby, he left the room, and softly 
 made his way to the stairs which led to the 
 attic. There was a door at the foot of the 
 stairs, which he opened noiselessly, and then 
 he stopped to listen. All was still. He 
 must have been sitting for some time at the 
 window, for the, light in the hall was extin- 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 119 
 
 guished, which was a sign that his uncle had 
 gone to bed. In fact, as he listened intently, 
 his ear caught a faint, rhythmic sound, rising 
 and falling at regular intervals, like the dis- 
 tant murmur of surf on the sea-shore; his 
 uncle was asleep. Closing the door softly 
 after him, and clasping the black box firmly, 
 Jack climbed the attic stairs and disappeared 
 in the darkness. 
 
120 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 COUSIN JACK. 
 
 THE next day, as Hildegarde was arrang- 
 ing flowers on the piazza, with a table before 
 her covered with bowls and vases, and a 
 great basket of many-coloured blossoms beside 
 her, Jack Ferrers appeared, evidently in the 
 depths of misery, carrying a huge bunch of 
 roses. He stumbled while coming up the 
 steps, and dropped half the roses, which in- 
 creased his discomfort so much that Hilde- 
 garde was really sorry for him. Moreover, 
 when seen by daylight, he was a very pleasant- 
 looking fellow, with curly brown hair and 
 great honest blue eyes very wide open. He 
 was over six feet tall, and as awkward as a 
 
MACK FERRERS APPEARED CARRYING A HUGE BUNCH OF ROSES. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 123 
 
 human being could be, but of course lie could 
 not help that. 
 
 " Good-morning, Cousin Jack ! " said Hilde- 
 garde pleasantly. " What lovely roses ! Are 
 they from Colonel Ferrers' s garden?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Jack Ferrers. " Uncle sends 
 them with his compliments. I'm sorry I 
 knocked over the basket last night. Good-by." 
 
 He was about to fling himself down the 
 steps again, but Hildegarde, controlling her 
 desire to laugh, said cordially : " Oh, don't go ! 
 Sit down a moment, and tell me the names 
 of some of these beauties." 
 
 " Thank you ! " muttered the youth, blush- 
 ing redder than the roses. "I I think I 
 must go back." 
 
 "Are you so very busy ? " asked Hilde- 
 garde innocently. " I thought this was your 
 vacation. What have you to do ? " 
 
 " Oh nothing! " said the lad awkwardly. 
 " Nothing in particular." 
 
124 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " Then sit down," said Hildegarde decidedly. 
 
 And Jack Ferrers sat down. A pause fol- 
 lowed. Then Hildegarde said in a matter-of- 
 fact tone, " You have no sisters, have you, 
 Cousin Jack ? " 
 
 "No," was the reply. "How did you 
 know ? " 
 
 " Because you are so shy," said Hildegarde, 
 smiling. " Boys who have no sisters are 
 apt to regard girls as a kind of griffin. 
 There used to be a boy at dancing-school, 
 two or three years ago, who was so shy it 
 was really painful to dance with him at first, 
 but he got over it after a while. And it was 
 all because he had no sisters." 
 
 " Did you like dancing-school ? " Jack in- 
 quired, venturing to look up at her shyly. 
 
 " Yes, very much indeed ! " replied Hilde- 
 garde. "Didn't you?" 
 
 " No ; hated it." 
 
 Then they both laughed a little, and after 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 125 
 
 that things went a good deal better. Jack 
 came up on the piazza (he had been sitting 
 on the steps, shuffling his feet in a most dis- 
 tressing manner), and helped to clip the 
 long steins of the roses, and pulled off super- 
 fluous leaves. It appeared that he did not 
 care much for flowers, though he admitted 
 that roses were " pretty." He did not care 
 for fishing or shooting ; tennis had made his 
 head ache ever since he began to grow so 
 fast. Did he like walking ? Pretty well, 
 when it wasn't too hot. Reading? Well 
 enough, when the book wasn't stupid. 
 
 " Wot are we to do with this 'ere 'opeless 
 chap?" said Hildegarde to herself, quoting 
 from " Pinafore." 
 
 As a last resort she asked if he were fond 
 of music. Instantly his face lighted up. 
 
 "Awfully fond of it," he said with anima- 
 'tion, and the embarrassed wrinkle disappeared 
 as if by magic from between his eyebrows. 
 
126 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 "Oh, I am so glad!" cried Hildegarde. 
 " I haven't had any music the last two sum- 
 mers. I had everything else that was nice, 
 but still I missed it, of course. Do you play, 
 or sing ? " 
 
 "A little of both," said Jack modestly. 
 
 " Oh, how delightful ! We must make 
 music together for mamma sometimes. My 
 own piano has not come yet, but there is 
 the dearest old funny thing here which be- 
 longed to the Misses Aytoun." 
 
 " Uncle Tom has no piano," said Jack, 
 " but I have my violin, so I don't mind." 
 
 " Oh, a violin ! " said Hildegarde, opening 
 her eyes wide. " Have you been studying 
 it long?" 
 
 " Ever since I was six years old," was the 
 reply. " My mother would not let me be- 
 gin earlier, though my father said that as 
 soon as I could hold a knife and fork I could 
 hold a bow. He's a little cracked about 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 127 
 
 violins, my father. He makes them, you 
 know." 
 
 "I don't know," cried Hildegarde. "Tell 
 me about it ; how very interesting ! " 
 
 "Well I don't mean that it's his busi- 
 ness," said Jack, who seemed to have forgot- 
 ten his shyness entirely ; " he's a lawyer, you 
 know. But it's the only thing he really 
 cares about. He has a workshop, and he 
 has made oh, ever so many violins ! He 
 went to Cremona once, and spent a year 
 there, poking about, and he found an old 
 church that was going to be repaired, and 
 bought the sounding-board. Oh, it must 
 have been a couple of hundred years old. 
 Then he moused about more and found an 
 old fellow, a descendant of one of Amati's 
 workmen, and I believe he would have 
 bought him, too, if he could ; but, anyhow, 
 they were great chums, and he taught my 
 father all kinds of tricks. When he came 
 
128 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 home he made this violin out of a piece of 
 the old sounding-board, and gave it to me 
 on my birthday. It's oh, it's no end, you 
 know ! And he made another for himself, 
 and we play together. Do you know the 
 Mozart Concerto in F, for two violins ? It 
 begins with an allegro." 
 
 And being fairly mounted on his hobby, 
 Jack Ferrers pranced about on it as if he had 
 done nothing but talk to Hildegarde all his 
 life. Hildegarde, meanwhile, listened with a 
 mixture of surprise, amusement, and respect. 
 He did not look in the least like a musical 
 genius, this long-legged, curly-haired lad, with 
 his blue eyes and his simple, honest face. 
 She thought of the lion front of Beethoven, 
 and the brilliant, exquisite beauty of Mozart, 
 and tried to imagine honest Jack standing 
 between them, and almost laughed in the 
 midst of an animated description of the an- 
 dante movement. Then she realised that he 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 129 
 
 was talking extremely well, and talking a 
 great deal over her head. 
 
 " I am afraid you will find me very igno- 
 rant," she said meekly, when her cousin 
 paused, a little out of breath, but with glow- 
 ing cheeks and sparkling eyes. " I have 
 heard a great deal of music, of course, and 
 I love it dearly; but I don't know about it 
 as you do, not a bit. I play the piano a 
 little, and I sing, just simple old songs, you 
 know, and that is all." 
 
 Hildegarde might have added that she had 
 a remarkably sweet voice, and sang with taste 
 and feeling, but that her cousin must find out 
 for himself ; besides, she was really over-awed 
 by this superior knowledge in one whom the 
 night before she had been inclined to set 
 down as a booby. " Shall I ever learn," she 
 thought remorsefully, " not to make these 
 ridiculous judgments of people, before I know 
 anything about them?" 
 
130 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 Just then Mrs. Grahame came out and 
 asked her new-found nephew,- as she called 
 him, to stay to dinner ; but at sight of her 
 the lad's shyness returned in full force. His 
 animation died away ; he hung his head, and 
 muttered that he " couldn't possibly, thank 
 you ! Uncle Tom stayed too long already. 
 Good-by ! " and, without even a farewell glance 
 at Hildegarde, went down all the steps at 
 once with a breakneck plunge, and disap- 
 peared. 
 
 "Tragedy of the Gorgon's Head! Medusa, 
 Mrs. Grahame," said that lady, laughing 
 softly. " Has my hair turned to snakes, 
 Hilda, or what is there so frightful in my 
 appearance ? I heard your voices sounding 
 so merrily I thought the ice was completely 
 broken." 
 
 " Oh, I think it is," said Hildegarde. "You 
 came upon him suddenly, that was all." 
 
 " Next time," said her mother, " I will 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 131 
 
 appear gradually, like the Cheshire Cat, begin- 
 ning with the grin/' 
 
 Hildegarde laughed, and went to pin a red 
 rose on her mother's dress. Then she said ; 
 " I was wrong, Mammina, and you were right, 
 as usual. It is a tiresome way you have, so 
 monotonous ! But really he is a very nice 
 boy, and he knows, oh ! ever so much about 
 music. He must be quite a wonder." And 
 she told her mother about the violin, and all 
 the rest of it. 
 
 Mrs. Grahame agreed with her that it 
 would be delightful to have some musical 
 evenings, and Hildegarde resolved to practise 
 two hours a day regularly. 
 
 "But there are so few hours in the day ! " 
 she complained. " I thought getting up at 
 seven would give me oh ! ever so much 
 time, and I have none at all. Here is the 
 morning nearly gone, and we have had no read- 
 ing, not a word." And she looked injured. 
 
182 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " There is an hour before dinner," said Mrs. 
 Grahame, " and the ' Makers of Florence ' is 
 lying on my table at this minute. Come up, 
 and I will read while you need I specify 
 the occupation ? " 
 
 " You need not," said Hildegarde. " I 
 really did mean to mend it this morning, 
 love, but things happened. I had to sew on 
 boot-buttons before breakfast, three of them, 
 and then Janet wanted me to show her about 
 something. But now I will really be indus- 
 trious." 
 
 This was destined to be a day of visits. In 
 the afternoon Mrs. Loftus and her daughter 
 called, driving up in great state, with pranc- 
 ing horses and clinking harness. Hilde- 
 garde, who was in her own room, meditated 
 a plunge down her private staircase and an 
 escape by way of the back door, but decided 
 that it would be base to desert her mother ; 
 so she smoothed her waving hair, inspected 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 133 
 
 her gown to make sure that it was spotless, 
 and came down into the parlour. 
 
 Mrs. Loftus was a very large lady, with a 
 very red face, who talked volubly about "our 
 place," "our horses," "our hot-houses," etc., 
 etc. Miss Loftus, whose name was Leonie, 
 was small and rather pretty, though she did 
 not look altogether amiable. She was in- 
 clined to patronise Hildegarde, but that 
 young person did not take kindly to patron- 
 age, and was a little stately, though very po- 
 lite, in her manner. 
 
 " Yes, it is pretty about here," said Miss 
 Loftus, " though one tires of it very quickly. 
 We vegetate here for three months every 
 summer ; it's papa's " (she pronounced it 
 "puppa") "whim, you see. How long a 
 season do you make ? " 
 
 " None at all," said Hildegarde quietly. 
 "We are going to live here." 
 
 Miss Loftus raised her eyebrows. " Oh ! you 
 
134 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 can hardly do that, I should think ! " she said 
 with a superior smile. " A few months will 
 probably change your views entirely. There 
 is no life here, absolutely none." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Hildegarde. " I thought 
 it was a very prosperous neighbourhood. 
 All the farms look thrifty and well cared 
 for; the crops are alive, at least." 
 
 " Oh, farmers and crops ! " said Miss Loftus. 
 " Very likely. I meant social life." 
 
 " I don't like social life," said Hildegarde. 
 
 This was not strictly true, but she could 
 not help saying it, as she told her mother 
 afterward. 
 
 Miss Loftus passed over the remark with 
 another smile, which made our heroine want 
 to pinch her, and added, " You must consider 
 us your only neighbours, as indeed we really 
 
 are." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! " said Mrs. Loftus, who was 
 now rising ponderously to depart. " We 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 135 
 
 shall hope to see you often at The Poplars, 
 Mrs. Grahame, There is not another house 
 within five miles where one can visit. Of 
 course I don't include that old bear, Colonel 
 Ferrers, who never speaks a civil word to any 
 one" 
 
 Hildegarde flushed and looked at her 
 mother, but Mrs. Grahame said very quietly, 
 " I have known Colonel Ferrers for many 
 years. He was a friend of my husband's." 
 
 "Oh, I beg your pardon ! " said Mrs. Lof- 
 tus, looking scared. " I had no idea I 
 never heard of any one knowing Colonel Fer- 
 rers. Come, Leonie, we must be going." 
 
 They departed, first engaging Hildegarde, 
 rather against her will, to lunch with them 
 the following Friday ; and the grand equi- 
 page rolled clinking and jingling away. 
 
 " "We seem to have fallen upon a Montague 
 and Capulet neighbourhood," said Mrs. Gra- 
 hame, smiling, as she turned to go upstairs. 
 
136 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 "Yes, indeed!" said Hildegarde. "Shall 
 we be Tybalts or Mercutios ? " 
 
 " Neither, I hope," said her mother, " as 
 both were run through the body. Of course, 
 however, there is no question as to which 
 neighbour we shall find most congenial. 
 And now, child, get your hat, and let us 
 take a good walk, to drive the cobwebs out 
 of our brains." 
 
 " Have with you ! " said Hildegarde, run- 
 ning lightly up the stairs ; a only, darling, 
 don't be so so incongruous as to call 
 Mrs. Loftus a cobweb ! " 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 187 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MISS AGATHA'S CABINET. 
 
 " MAMMINA ! I have found them ! I have 
 found them ! " cried Hildegarde, rushing like 
 a whirlwind into her mother's room, and 
 waving something over her head. 
 
 "What have you found, darling?" asked 
 Mrs. Grahame, looking up from her writing. 
 " Not your wits, for example ? I should be 
 so glad ! " 
 
 "One may not shake one's mother," said 
 Hildegarde, " but beware, lest you ' rouse an 
 Indian's indomitable nature.' I have found 
 the keys of Miss Agatha's cabinet." 
 
 "Really!" cried Mrs. Grahame, laying 
 
138 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 down her pen. " Are you sure ? where were 
 they?" 
 
 "In that old secretary in Uncle Aytoun's 
 room," said Hildegarde. "You know you 
 said I might rummage in it some day, and 
 this rainy afternoon seemed to be the very 
 time. They were in a little drawer, all by 
 themselves; and see, they are marked, 'Keys 
 of the cabinet in my sister Agatha's room, 
 containing miniatures, etc.' ' 
 
 "This is indeed a discovery!" said Mrs. 
 Grahame, rising. " We will examine the 
 cabinet together, dear ; as you say, it is just 
 the day for it." 
 
 Hildegarde led the way, dancing with ex- 
 citement and pleasure ; her mother followed 
 more slowly. There might be sadness, she 
 thought, as well as pleasure, in looking over 
 the relics of a family which had died out, 
 leaving none of the name, so far as she knew, 
 in this country at least, Miss Agatha's room 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 139 
 
 did not look very cheerful in the grey light 
 of a wet day. The prevailing tint of walls 
 and ceiling was a greyish yellow ; the faded 
 curtains were held back by faded ribbons ; 
 the furniture was angular and high-shoul- 
 dered. On the wall was a coloured print of 
 " London in 1802," from which the metropo- 
 lis would seem to have been a singular place. 
 The only interesting feature in the room was 
 the cabinet which they had come to explore, 
 and this was really a beautiful piece of furni- 
 ture. It stood seven feet high at least, and 
 was apparently of solid ebony, inlaid with 
 yellow ivory in curious spiral patterns. In 
 the centre was a small door, almost entirely 
 covered with the ivory tracery; above, below, 
 and around were drawers, large and small, 
 deep and shallow, a very wilderness of 
 drawers. All had silver keyholes of curious 
 pattern, and all were fast locked, a fact 
 which had seriously interfered with Hilde- 
 
140 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 garde's peace of mind ever since they came 
 to the house. Now, however, that she act- 
 ually stood before it with the " Open 
 sesame," this bunch of quaint silver keys 
 in her hand, she shrank back, and felt shy 
 and afraid. 
 
 "You must open it, mamma," she said. 
 " I dare not." 
 
 Mrs. Grahame fitted a key to one of the 
 larger drawers, and opened it. A faint per- 
 fume floated out, old roses and lavender, laid 
 away one knows not how many years. Under 
 folds of silver paper lay some damask towels, 
 fine and thick and smooth, but yellow with 
 age. They were tied with a lilac ribbon, and 
 on the ribbon was pinned a piece of paper, 
 covered with writing in a fine, cramped hand. 
 
 "Lift them out carefully, dear," said Mrs. 
 Grahame, " and read the label." 
 
 Hildegarde complied, and read aloud : 
 "These towels were spun and woven by my 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 141 
 
 grandmother Grahame in Scotland, before she 
 came to this country. Her maiden name was 
 Annot Mclntosh." 
 
 "What beautiful linen!" said Mrs. Gra- 
 hame, smoothing the glossy folds with the 
 hand of a housewife. " I always wished I 
 had learned to spin and weave. Linen that 
 one buys has no feeling in it. Lay it back 
 reverently, degenerate daughter of the nine- 
 teenth century, and your degenerate mother 
 will open another drawer." 
 
 The next drawer contained several sets of 
 baby-clothes, at sight of which Hildegarde 
 opened her eyes very wide indeed. Her 
 mother was an exquisite needle-woman, so 
 was her cousin Wealthy Bond, and she herself 
 had no need to be ashamed of the " fine 
 seam" she could sew; but never had she 
 seen such needlework as this : tiny caps, 
 wrought so thick with flower and leaf that 
 no spot of the plain linen could be seen ; 
 
142 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 robes of finest lawn, with wonderful em- 
 broidered fronts ; shawls of silk flannel, 
 with deep borders of heavy "laid work." 
 One robe was so beautiful that both Hilde- 
 garde and her mother cried over it, and took 
 it up to examine it more carefully. On the 
 breast was pinned a piece of paper, with an 
 inscription in the same delicate hand : " Hes- 
 ter's christening-robe. We think it was in 
 consequence of this fine work that our dear 
 mother lost her eyesight/' 
 
 "I should think it highly probable," said 
 Mrs. Grahame, laying the exquisite monument 
 of folly back in the drawer. " I did not know 
 that old Madam Aytoun was blind. What 
 is written on that tiny cap, in the corner 
 there ? It must be a doll's cap ; no baby 
 could be so small." 
 
 Hildegarde read the inscription : " Worn 
 by our uncle Hesketh, who weighed two 
 pounds at birth. He grew to be six feet and 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 143 
 
 six inches in height, and weighed three hun- 
 dred pounds." 
 
 "What a wonderful person Miss Agatha 
 must have been ! " said Hildegarde. " Who 
 else would think of all these pleasant bits of 
 information ? And now for the next 
 drawer!" 
 
 She opened it, and gave a little shriek of 
 delight. Here truly were beautiful things, 
 such as neither she nor her mother had ever 
 seen before : three short aprons of white 
 silk, trimmed with deep gold lace, and cov- 
 ered with silk-embroidered flowers of richest 
 hues, one with tulips, another with roses, a 
 third with carnations. Folds of tissue paper 
 separated them from each other, and the 
 legend told thai they had been worn by " our 
 * great-grandmother Ponsonby, when she was 
 Maid of Honour to Queen Caroline. She was 
 an Englishwoman." 
 
 Then came a tippet of white marabou 
 
144 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 feathers, buttoned into a silk case, and smell- 
 ing faintly of camphor ; a gown of rose- 
 coloured satin, brocaded with green, and one of 
 ruby-coloured velvet, which bore the inscrip- 
 tion : " This was the gown on which our great- 
 grandmother Ponsonby wore the diamond but- 
 tons which have since been divided among 
 her descendants. A sinful waste of money 
 which might have been put to good purpose." 
 " How very frivolous Great-grandmother 
 Ponsonby must have been ! " said Hildegarde. 
 " I think Miss Agatha is rather hard on her, 
 though. Perhaps the buttons were wedding 
 presents. I wonder what has become of them 
 all! See, Mammina, here are her red shoes 
 just like Beatrix Esmond's, aren't they ? My 
 foot would not begin to go into them. And 
 here oh! the lace! the lace!" For there 
 was a whole drawer full of lace, all in little 
 bundles neatly tied up and marked. Here 
 was Madam Aytoun's wedding veil, Grand- 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 145 
 
 mother This One's Mechlin tabs, Aunt That 
 One's Venetian flounces. It would take pages 
 to describe all the laces, and the pleasure 
 that mother and daughter had in examin- 
 ing them. What woman or girl does not 
 love lace ? Finally, in a corner of the drawer, 
 was a morocco box containing a key, whose 
 ivory label said : " Central compartment. 
 Miniatures." 
 
 " This will be the best of all ! " cried Hil- 
 degarde, eagerly. " Perhaps we shall find 
 Great-grandmother Ponsonby herself. Who 
 knows?" 
 
 The ivory door flew open as the key 
 turned, and revealed a space set round with 
 tiny drawers. Each drawer contained one or 
 more miniatures, in cases of red or green 
 morocco, and Hildegarde and her mother 
 examined them with delight. Here, to be 
 sure, was Great-grandmother Ponsonby; in 
 fact, she appeared twice : first, as a splendid 
 
146 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 young matron, clad in the identical ruby 
 velvet with the diamond buttons, her hair 
 powdered high and adorned with feathers ; 
 and, again, as a not less superb old lady, with 
 folds of snowy muslin under her chin, and 
 keen dark eyes flashing from under her white 
 curls, and a wonderful cap. Here was Grand- 
 father Aytoun, first as a handsome boy, with 
 great dark eyes, and a parrot on his hand, 
 then as a somewhat choleric-looking gentle- 
 man with a great fur collar. 
 
 " How they do change ! " said Hildegarde. 
 " I am not sure that I like to see two of the 
 same person. Let me see, now ! He mar- 
 ried " 
 
 " The daughter of Great-grandmother Pon- 
 sonby," replied Mrs. Grahame. " Here she is ! 
 Caroline Regina Ponsonby, cet. 16. Named 
 after the royal patroness, you see. What a 
 sweet, gentle-looking girl ! I fear her mag- 
 nificent mother and her decided-looking hus- 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 147 
 
 band may have been too much for her, for I 
 see she died at twenty-three." 
 
 " Oh ! and he married again ! " cried Hil- 
 degarde, opening another case. " See here ! 
 Selina Euphemia McKenzie, second wife of 
 John Aytoun. Oh! and here is a slip of 
 paper inside the frame. 
 
 "' Sweet flower, that faded soon 
 In Eapture's fervid noon. 
 
 <J. A.' 
 
 " Dear me ! he must have written it him- 
 self ! " she added. "It is not like Miss Agatha's 
 handwriting. Why, she only lived three 
 months, poor dear ! He makes very sure 
 about the rapture, doesn't he ? " 
 
 " I think he does," said her mother, smil- 
 ing, " considering that he married a third 
 time, inside a year from the fading of the 
 sweet flower. Look at this aquiline dame ? 
 with the remarkably firm mouth, and the 
 
148 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 bird of paradise in her turban. < Adelaide 
 McLeod, third wife of John Aytoun. She 
 survived him.' I'll warrant she did!" said 
 Mrs. Grahame. " She carries conquest in her 
 face. All the children were of the first mar- 
 riage, and I fear she was not a gentle step- 
 mother. I wonder who this may be ! " She 
 took up a heavy bracelet of dark hair, with a 
 small miniature set in the clasp. " What a 
 pretty, pretty child ! Good Miss Agatha has 
 surely not left us in the dark concerning him. 
 6 Little John Hesketh, 1804.' That is all." 
 
 " Why Hesketh ? " asked Hildegarde. " I 
 have never heard of any Heskeths." 
 
 Mrs. Grahame was about to plunge into 
 genealogical depths, when Hildegarde, who 
 had been opening a case of purple morocco, 
 carefully secured with silver clasps, gave an 
 exclamation of pleasure. 
 
 "Hester!" she cried. "This is Hester, I 
 know." 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 149 
 
 Her mother looked, and nodded; and they 
 both gazed in silence at the lovely face, with 
 its earnest grey eyes. 
 
 " The dear ! " murmured Hildegarde. " How 
 I should have loved her ! I am sure we should 
 have liked the same things. I wish she had 
 not died." 
 
 " You must remember that she would be a 
 dear old lady now, were she alive, and not a 
 young lassie. What does the slip say, dar- 
 ling? Miss Agatha's hand is rather trying 
 for my eyes." 
 
 " ' Our dearest Hester,'" Hildegarde read. 
 " * A duplicate of the one painted for Robert 
 Ferrers.' Robert Ferrers ! " she repeated 
 thoughtfully. " Is that Colonel Ferrers? and 
 do you suppose " 
 
 At this moment came a knock at the door, 
 and Janet informed them that Mrs. Lankton 
 was in the hall, and would like to speak to 
 one of the ladies. 
 
150 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " I will go," said Hildegarde, laying down 
 the miniature reluctantly. 
 
 "We will both go/' said her mother. "The 
 poor old dame ! We have neglected' her all 
 these days." 
 
 They locked the drawer of the treasure- 
 cabinet, and Hildegarde ran to put the pre- 
 cious keys in a safe place, while her mother 
 went directly downstairs. By the time Hilde- 
 garde appeared, Mrs. Lankton was launched 
 on the full tide of her woes, and was sailing 
 along with a good breeze. 
 
 " And it's comin' in, Mis' Grahame I'd 
 say like a house afire, if 'twa'n't that 'twas 
 wet. Dreepin' all down the chimbley, and 
 runnin' over the floor in streams. I stepped 
 into a pool o' water with my bar' feet, gittin' 
 out o' bed ; likely I caught my death, but it's 
 no great matter. Ah! Mis' Grahame, I've 
 seen trouble all my life. Mr. Aytoun, he 
 was like a father to me. He wouldn't never 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 151 
 
 ha' let me go bar'foot in water if he'd ben 
 alive. I've ben a hard-workin' woman all 
 my life, and he knowed it. I hope your own 
 health is good, dear ? " 
 
 " What can I do for you, Mrs. Lankton ? " 
 asked Mrs. Grahame, kindly, as a moment's 
 pause gave her a chance to get in a word. 
 " Does the roof need shingling ? " 
 
 " Mr. Aytoun was goin' to have it shingled 
 for me last Janooary," said Mrs. Lankton, 
 with a sigh that was almost a groan ; " and 
 he was called on to die in Febooary. Jest 
 afore he passed away, he was tryin' dretful 
 hard to say something and I ain't no manner 
 o' doubt myself but what 'twas ( Shingle ! ' 
 He had it on his mind; they needn't tell me. 
 But nobody seemed to feel a call after he 
 was gone. Ah, dear me ! You don't know 
 nothin' about it, Mis' Grahame. You ain't 
 never stepped bar'foot out o' your bed into a 
 pool o' water, and you all doubled up with 
 
152 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 neurology in your j'ints. Ah, well, 'twon't 
 be long now that I shall trouble anybody." 
 
 " Which is your house, Mrs. Lankton ? " 
 asked Mrs. Grahame. "I will try to have 
 something done about the roof at once." 
 
 " I know ! " said Hildegarde, quickly. " It 
 is a brown Cottage with a green door." 
 
 u See how she knows ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Lankton, with a sad smile. " Ain't that 
 thoughtful ? Ah ! she'll be a comfit to you, 
 Mis' Grahame, if you've luck to raise her, but 
 there's no knowin'. Don't you set your 
 heart on it, that's all. Ah ! I know what 
 trouble is." 
 
 " Don't you think I am ' raised ' already, 
 Mrs. Lankton ? " Hilda asked, smiling down 
 on the weazened face that did not reach to 
 her shoulder. 
 
 " So fur ye be, dear ! " replied the widow, 
 
 
 
 with a doleful shake of the head. " So fur 
 ye be ? but there's no knowin'. My Phrony 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 153 
 
 was jest like you, hearty and stout, and she's 
 gone. Ah ! dear me ! She had a store tooth, 
 where she knocked out one of hers, slidin', 
 and she swallered it one night, and she 
 never got over it. Lodged on her liver, the 
 doctor said. He went down and tried to 
 fetch it up, but 'twa'n't no use. She was 
 fleshy, same as you be. Yes, gals is hard to 
 
 raise." 
 
 At this, Hildegarde retreated suddenly into 
 the parlour, and Mrs. Grahame, in a voice 
 which shook a little, expressed proper regret 
 and sympathy, and repeated that she would 
 have the roof attended to. 
 
 " And now," she added, " go into the 
 kitchen, and auntie shall give you a cup of 
 hot tea. You must dry your feet, too, before 
 you go out again." 
 
 " The Lord'll reward you, dear ! " said 
 Mrs. Lankton, turning with a faint gleam of 
 cheerfulness toward the kitchen door. " It 
 
154 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 ain't long before I shall go the way of 
 all, but it doos seem as if I mought go dry, 
 'stead o' dreepin'. But youll be rewarded, 
 Mis' Grahame. I felt as if you'd be a mother 
 to me, soon as I sot eyes on ye. 6-ood- 
 mornin', dear! " and with a groan that ended 
 in a half-chuckle, she disappeared. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 155 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE POPLARS. 
 
 PUNCTUALLY at half-past one on Friday. 
 Hildegarde walked up the avenue which led 
 to "The Poplars." It was a broad avenue, 
 and the steps to which it led were broad, and 
 the whole house had an air of being spread 
 out. " But Mrs. Loftus needs a good deal of 
 room ! " said Hildegarde to herself, and then 
 cuffed herself mentally for wickedness. 
 
 Very fair and sweet she looked, our Hilde- 
 garde, in her white serge gown, with the 
 pretty hat of white " chiffon " which " Mam- 
 mina"had made only the evening before. 
 Standing on the verandah, with eyes and 
 cheeks brilliant from walking, she met the 
 
156 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 entire approval of a young gentleman who 
 was reclining behind the hedge. He was a 
 very young gentleman. He wore corduroy 
 knickerbockers, and he was lying flat on his 
 stomach, with his heels in the air, sucking a 
 large bull's-eye. The sudden apparition of 
 a tall maiden in white, with shining eyes, 
 nearly caused him to swallow the bull's-eye, 
 but he recovered himself, and gazed stead- 
 fastly at her. When the door opened to 
 admit her, the young gentleman sighed, and 
 considered that it was not so fine a day as he 
 had thought it. " She is a beautiful girl ! " 
 he said to himself with fervour ; " she is a 
 Purple Maid ! " and then he rolled over on 
 his back, to see if the bull's-eye would taste as 
 good in that position. 
 
 Hildegarde, meanwhile, unconscious of the 
 approving scrutiny of the infant connoisseur, 
 was ushered by a stately butler through room 
 after room, until she came to one where Mrs, 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 157 
 
 and Miss Loftus were waiting to receive her. 
 They were both very cordial, one in a ponder- 
 ous, the other in an airily patronising way. 
 
 " But I did not hear you drive up/' said 
 Mrs. Loftus, " and we have been listening 
 every moment ; for I said to Leonie, ' Suppose 
 she should not come, after all ! ' And so 
 you must have driven up very quietly, you 
 see." 
 
 " I walked," said Hildegarde. smiling ; " so 
 there were no wheels to hear, Mrs. Loftus." 
 
 "Walked! Is it possible?" cried Mrs. 
 Loftus, while her daughter raised her eye- 
 brows and regarded Hildegarde with languid 
 curiosity. " My dear, you must be terribly 
 heated. Let me ring for some Florida water. 
 No, I insist ! " as Hildegarde made a gesture 
 of protest. " It is so dangerous to walk in 
 the heat of the day. The brain, you know, 
 becomes heated, and it. does something to the 
 spinal marrow. p Do you feel any dizziness ? 
 
158 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 Really, the best thing would be for you to lie 
 down at once for half an hour. I will darken 
 the room, and " 
 
 "Nonsense, mamma!" said Miss Loftus, 
 " I don't believe Miss Grahame wants to lie 
 down." 
 
 " Oh, no, indeed ! " cried Hildegarde, thank- 
 ful for the interruption. " I am used to walk- 
 ing, you know, Mrs. Loftus. I always walk, 
 everywhere. I like it very much better than 
 driving; besides," she added, "we have no 
 horses, so I should have to walk in any case." 
 
 " I think it so dangerous ! " said Mrs. 
 Loftus, with a compassionate shake of the 
 head. " In the heat of the day, as I said, 
 the spinal marrow ; so important, my dear ! 
 and towards evening there is a chill in the 
 air, malaria, all kinds of dreadful things. I 
 shall make a point of picking you up when- 
 ever I am driving by I drive by nearly 
 every day and taking you out." 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 159 
 
 "Oh thank you!" cried poor Hilde- 
 garde, an abyss opening at her feet. " You 
 are very kind, but I could not ! I am so busy 
 and walking is my delight." 
 
 The announcement of lunch created a di- 
 version, to the great relief of our heroine. 
 Mr. Loftus appeared, a small, shrivelled man, 
 with sharp eyes, whose idea of making him- 
 self agreeable was to criticise each article of 
 food as it came on the table. 
 
 " Very weak bouillon, Mrs. Loftus " (he 
 called it " bullion "). " Very weak ! greasy, 
 too! Not fit to put on the table. What's 
 this? chicken? Fowl, I should say! Rooster, 
 Mrs. L. ! Is this your twelve-dollar cook ? 
 Not a thing Miss Grahame can eat ! She'll 
 go and tell old Ferrers how we gave her roast 
 rooster, see if she don't ! I hear you're very 
 thick with old Ferrers, Miss Grahame. Old 
 Grizzly Bruin, / call him. Good name, too ! 
 he ! he ! " 
 
160 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 Hildegarde blushed scarlet, and wondered 
 what her mother would say in her place. All 
 she could do was to murmur that the chicken 
 was very nice indeed, and to hope that she 
 did not show more of her disgust than was 
 proper. The luncheon was very fine, in spite 
 of Mr. Loftus's depreciation ; and when it came 
 to the dessert, he changed his tune, and 
 descanted on the qualities of " my peaches," 
 " my nectarines," and " my gardener." 
 
 " You don't eat enough, Miss Grahame ! " 
 was his comment. " No need to stint your- 
 self here ; plenty for all, and more where 
 that came from." 
 
 But here Miss Loftus came to the rescue, 
 and with a " Don't be tiresome, puppa ! " 
 changed the conversation, and began to talk 
 of the Worth gowns she had seen in New 
 York, on her last visit. 
 
 "Which do you admire most, Worth or 
 Felix?" she asked, after a graphic descrip- 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 161 
 
 tion of some marvellous gown which fitted 
 the fortunate owner "as if she had been 
 poured into it. Absolutely poured, Miss 
 Grahame ! " 
 
 "I I really don't know," Hildegarde con- 
 fessed meekly. " I never can tell one dress- 
 maker's style from another. If a gown is 
 pretty, that is all I think about it." 
 
 " Oh ! if you have never studied these 
 things, of course ! " said the fair Leonie 
 indulgently. " I went to Madame Vivien's 
 school, you see, and we had a regular hour 
 for studying fashions. I can tell a Worth 
 or a Felix or a Donovan gown as far as I 
 can see it." 
 
 " Did you like Madame Vivien's school ? " 
 asked Hildegarde. 
 
 " She ought to ! " exclaimed Mr. Loftus. 
 " It cost enough, I can tell you." 
 
 "Oh, it is the best school in the city, of 
 course," said Leonie complacently. "We had 
 
162 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 a very good time, a set of us that were there. 
 They called us the Highflyers, and I suppose 
 we had rather top-lofty notions. Anyway, 
 we were Madame' s favourites, because we had 
 the air., she always said. She couldn't endure 
 a dowdy girl, and she dressed beautifully her- 
 self. There were two or three girls that were 
 regular digs, with their noses always in their 
 books, and Madame couldn't bear them. 
 ' Miss Antrim,' she was always saying to one 
 of them, ' it is true that you know your les- 
 son, but your gown is buttoned awry, and 
 it fits as if the miller had made it.' He ! 
 he ! " 
 
 "And and did you care for study?" 
 Hildegarde asked, mentally sympathising 
 with Miss Antrim, though conscious that she 
 would never have been allowed to go to 
 school with a gown buttoned awry. 
 
 "Oh! I liked French," said Miss Loftus, 
 " and history pretty well, when it wasn't too 
 
HTLDEGARDE'S HOME. 163 
 
 poky. But you didn't have to study at 
 Madame Vivien's unless you wanted to." 
 
 " What Leonie went most for was man- 
 ners," explained Mrs. Loftus, taking a large 
 mouthful of mayonnaise, and continuing her 
 remarks while eating it. " Elegant manners 
 they teach at Madame Vivien's." 
 
 " How to enter a room well," - - Leonie enu- 
 merated the points on her taper fingers, 
 "how to salute and take leave of a hostess, 
 how to order a dinner, those were some of 
 the most important things. We took turns 
 in making up menus, and prizes were given 
 for the best." 
 
 " Leonie took the prize for the best minew ! " 
 exclaimed Mrs. Loftus, triumphantly. " Tell 
 Miss Grahame your prize minew, Leonie." 
 
 Nothing loth, Leonie described the dinner 
 at length, from little-neck clams to coffee ; 
 and a very fine dinner it was. 
 
 " Hm ! " grunted Mr. Loftus, " better din- 
 
164 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 ner than we ever get from your twelve-dollar 
 cook, Mrs. L. Hm ! Fine dinners on paper, 
 I dare say. Hand me that salad ! Why don't 
 you give Miss Grahame some more salad ? 
 She ain't eating anything at all." 
 
 " Then we had lectures on the Art of 
 Dress," continued the fair student of Madame 
 Vivien's. " Those were very interesting." 
 
 " Well, dress does change, the most of any- 
 thing !" exclaimed Mrs. Loftus. "To see 
 the difference now from when I was a girl ! 
 Why, when I was married I had thirty-five 
 yards of silk in my wedding dress, and now 
 nobody don't have more than ten or twelve. 
 Almost too scant to cover 'em, it seems some- 
 times." 
 
 " Thirty-five yards, mamma ! " exclaimed 
 her daughter. " You're joking ! " 
 
 " Not a mite ! " Mrs. Loftus said firmly. 
 " Thirty-five yards of white satin, and trimmed 
 with four whole pieces of lace and three hun- 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 166 
 
 dred and eighty-two bows." The two girls 
 exclaimed in wonder, and Mrs. Loftus con- 
 tinued in high good-humour. " Yes, a dress 
 was a dress in those days. Why, I had one 
 walking dress, a brown silk it was, with fifty 
 yards in it." 
 
 " But how was it possible ? " cried Hilde- 
 garde. " Did you wear crinoline ? " 
 
 " No," was the reply, " not a mite of hoop- 
 skirt ; but things were very full, you see. 
 Miss Grahame. That brown dress, now ; it 
 had a deep side-plaiting all round, and an 
 overskirt, very full too, and the back very 
 deep, flounced, scalloped, and trimmed with 
 narrow piping, looped in each corner with 
 scallops. There was a deep fringe round the 
 basque and overskirt, and coming up from 
 the postilion (that was deep, too), to loop on 
 the left shoulder." 
 
 "Well, it sounds awful!" said Leonie 
 
166 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 frankly. " You must have been a perfect 
 sight, mamma! " 
 
 " She was better-looking than you are, or 
 ever will be ! " snarled Mr. Loftus. " Are you 
 goin' to sit here all day talkin' about women's 
 folderols ? I have to pay for 'em, and I guess 
 that's all I want to know about 'em." 
 
 Glad enough was Hildegarde when four 
 o'clock came, and she could plead an appoint- 
 ment to meet her mother at a certain turn 
 of the road, as they were going for a walk 
 together. 
 
 " More walking ! " cried Mrs. Loftus. " You'll 
 have a fever, I'm certain of it. I don't think 
 girls ought ever to walk, unless it's a little 
 turn in the park while the horses are wait- 
 ing, or something of that sort." She begged 
 Hildegarde to wait till the horses were har- 
 nessed, but our heroine was firm, and finally 
 departed, leaving her good-natured hostess 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 167 
 
 shaking her head in the doorway, like a man- 
 darin in wine-coloured satin. 
 
 As she turned the corner by the gilded iron 
 gates, Hildegarde was startled by the appari- 
 tion of a small boy in brown corduroy, sitting 
 on a post and swinging his legs. 
 
 Hildegarde was fond of boys. One of her 
 two best friends was a boy, and she had a 
 little sweetheart in Maine, whose name was 
 Benny, and who loved her with all the ardour 
 of four years old. This boy must be six or 
 seven, she thought. He had red hair, a 
 round, rosy, freckled face, and two eyes so 
 blue and so bright that the very meeting 
 them made her smile. Her smile was an- 
 swered by a flash, which lighted up the whole 
 face, and subsided instantly, leaving preter- 
 natural gravity. 
 
 " How do you do ? " said Hildegarde. " Is 
 it fun sitting there ? " 
 
 " No ! " said the boy and down he came. 
 
168 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 Then shyness seized him; he hung his head 
 and considered his toes attentively. 
 
 " My name is Hilda/' continued our heroine. 
 " Do you think it is a nice name ? " 
 
 He nodded, still intent on the boots. 
 
 " But I don't know what your name is," 
 she went on sadly. " I should like to tell 
 you about my puppy, if you would walk along 
 by me, but you see I can't, because I don't 
 know your name." 
 
 " Hugh Allen," said the lad briefly. 
 
 "Hugh!" cried Hildegarde, her cheek 
 flushing and li or eyes softening. " That was 
 my dear father's name. We must be friends, 
 Hugh, for the name's sake. Come along, 
 laddie ! " 
 
 The boy came, and walked in silence by 
 her side, occasionally stealing a glance at the 
 kind, bright face so much higher up than his 
 own. 
 
 " Well, my puppy," said Hildegarde, a if 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 169 
 
 she were continuing a conversation. "His 
 name was Patsy, and he was such a funny 
 puppy, all white, with a great big head, 
 and paws almost as big, and a mouth large 
 enough to swallow oh ! I don't know what ! 
 a watermelon, perhaps. I loved him very 
 much. He used to gnaw my boots, and nibble 
 the skirt of my dress ; but, of course, I didn't 
 mind, for I knew he was cutting his teeth, 
 poor dear, and couldn't help it. But when he 
 gnawed all the corners off the leather chairs 
 in the dining-room, my mother dear didn't 
 like it, and she said Patsy must go. Then 
 my father said he would take him to his 
 office every day, and keep him out of mischief, 
 and then I could take the dear for a good 
 walk in the afternoon, and have a comfortable 
 time with him, and he could sleep in the 
 shed. Well, I thought this was a delightful 
 plan, and the next day Patsy went off with 
 papa, as pleased and happy as possible. Oh, 
 
170 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 dear ! Hugh, what do you think that puppy 
 did ? " 
 
 " Perhaps he bit his legs/' suggested Hugh, 
 with a gleam of delight in his blue eyes. 
 
 ." Oh, no ! " said Hildegarde. " He wouldn't 
 have dared to do that, for he was a sad 
 coward, my poor Patsy. My father left him 
 shut up in the office while he went to lunch ; 
 and as the day was mild (though it was 
 winter), he left his new ulster on a chair, 
 where he had laid it when he first came in. 
 Hugh, when he came back, he found the ulster 
 it was a stout heavy one he found it all 
 torn into little pieces, and the pieces piled in 
 a heap, and Patsy lying on top of them." 
 
 " Oh-ee ! " cried the boy. " And then what 
 happened ? Did he smite him hip and thigh, 
 even unto the going down of the sun ? " 
 
 Hildegarde opened her eyes a little at this 
 scriptural phrase, but answered : " Yes, I am 
 afraid papa gave him a pretty severe whip- 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 171 
 
 ping. He had to, of course. And then he 
 sent him away, and I never saw poor Patsy 
 again. Don't you think that was sad, 
 Hugh?" 
 
 "It was sad for you," replied the boy, 
 "but sadder for Patsy. Would you like to 
 be a dog ? " he added, looking up suddenly 
 into Hildegarde's face. 
 
 " I think not ! " said that young wo- 
 man meditatively. "I should have to eat 
 scraps and cold bones, and that I could not 
 endure. Besides, you couldn't read, or play 
 on the piano, or anything of that sort. No, 
 I am quite sure I should not like it, Hugh." 
 
 "But you would have a tail!" cried the 
 boy, with kindling eyes. " A tail to wag ! 
 And and just think how you would go with 
 four legs ! " he added, giving a jump with his 
 two stout little limbs. " And never to have 
 to sit up straight, except for fun sometimes; 
 and no boots to lace, and not to have to 
 
172 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 cut up your dinner. Oh ! it would be such 
 fun!" 
 
 " Yes, and never to be able to change your 
 clothes when they are wet or muddy,' 1 replied 
 the girl, " and to have to lie on the floor" 
 " I like to lie on the floor/' put in Hugh - 
 " and to have unnatural people, who don't 
 like dogs, say, ' There ! there! get away, dog! ' 
 when you are trying to make yourself agree- 
 able." 
 
 " Yes, that is badj " Hugh admitted. 
 " Aunt Loftus beat Merlin yesterday when 
 he hadn't done anything, just not anything 
 at all. Just he wagged his tail to tell me 
 something, and there was an old jug in the 
 way, and it fell over and broke. And now 
 he isn't to come into the house any more. I 
 felt like ( many oxen come about me. fat bulls 
 of Basan compass me on every side,' when 
 she glared at me and said that." 
 
 Hildegarde turned her face away, and was 
 silent for a minute. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 173 
 
 u Merlin is your dog ? " she asked pres- 
 ently, with a suspicious quiver in her voice. 
 
 " Would you like to see him ? " cried the 
 lad joyfully. " He stayed behind with a 
 bone, but I'll call him." He gave a long, clear 
 whistle, and a superb collie came bounding 
 down the avenue, and greeted his master 
 with violent affection. 
 
 " Down, Merlin ! " said Hugh Allen gravely. 
 " This is the Purple Maid I told you about, 
 but nei real name is Hilda. A Purple Maid 
 was what I called you when I saw you com- 
 ing up the steps," he explained, turning to 
 Hildegarde. " I didn't know any other name, 
 you see." 
 
 -But why < Purple Maid'?" asked Hilde- 
 garde, feeling more and more that this was 
 a very queer little boy. " I had been walk- 
 ing fast, but was I actually purple, Hugh ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said the boy. u It wasn't that 
 at all. Your cheeks were like the rosy eve. 
 
174 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 But ' purple ' has a nice sound, don't you 
 think so ? a kind of rich sound. Do you 
 mind my calling you a Purple Maid ? " 
 
 Hildegarde assured him that she did not, 
 and then, from mere idle curiosity, as she 
 afterwards assured herself, she added, " And 
 what do you call your cousin Leonie ? " 
 
 " A vinegar cruet ! " replied Hugh promptly. 
 " And Aunt Loftus is a fat " 
 
 " Oh, hush ! hush ! my dear little boy ! " 
 cried Hildegarde hastily. " You must not say 
 such things as that." 
 
 " You asked me," replied Hugh simply. 
 " That is what I do call them when I think 
 about them." 
 
 " But it is not nice to think rude and unkind 
 things," said the Purple Maid, reprovingly. 
 
 " Then I won't think about them at all," 
 said the boy. " For they really are, you 
 know. I'd rather think of you, anyhow, and 
 mamma, and Merlin." 
 
HlLDEGARDE HAD BEEN MAKIN(i FRIENDS WITH MERLIN.' 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 177 
 
 While this dialogue was going on, Hilde- 
 garde had been making friends with Merlin, 
 who responded with cheerful cordiality to her 
 advances. He was a beautiful creature, of 
 true collie brown, with a black nose, and 
 the finest white waistcoat in the world. His 
 eyes were wonderful, clear, deep, and intel- 
 ligent, in colour " like mountain water when 
 it's flowing o'er a rock." 
 
 " Dear lad ! " said Hildegarde, taking his 
 black paw and pressing it affectionately. 
 " I know you are as good as you are hand- 
 some. Will you be my friend, too ? Hugh 
 is going to be my friend." 
 
 "He will!" cried Hugh eagerly. "We 
 always like the same people, and almost 
 always the same things. He won't eat ap- 
 ples, and I don't chase cats; but those are 
 nearly' the only things we don't like to- 
 gether." 
 
 At a turn in the road, Hildegarde saw in 
 
178 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 the distance a black figure walking toward 
 them. 
 
 " There is my mother dear!" she ex- 
 claimed. " She said she would come and 
 meet me. Will you come and see her, 
 Hugh ? she is very nice ! " she added, seeing 
 that the boy hung back. But Hugh studied 
 his boots again with rapt attention, and ap- 
 parently read in them a summons back to The 
 Poplars. 
 
 "I think I have to go back ! " he said. 
 " I love you, and you are my Purple Maid. 
 May I 'come to see you once ? " 
 
 " You may come fifty times, dear little 
 lad!" cried Hildegarde warmly. "Come as 
 often as you like." 
 
 But Hugh Allen shook his head sagely. 
 u Maybe once will be enough," he said. 
 u Come, Merlin! Good-by, Purple Maid ! " 
 And he and Merlin disappeared in a cloud 
 of legs and dust. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 179 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE COUSINS. 
 
 HILDEGARDE and her cousin Jack soon 
 became fast friends. His fear of Mrs. G-ra- 
 hame vanished the first time he saw her 
 smile, and he found, to his great amazement, 
 that a girl was not necessarily either " dread- 
 ful " or stupid ; moreover, that a girl's 
 mother might be a very delightful person, 
 instead of a mixture of harpy and Gorgon. 
 He was invited to come to tea and bring his 
 violin. Colonel Ferrers was invited, too, but 
 promptly declined. 
 
 "A fiddling nephew, dear madam," he 
 said, u is a dispensation to which I resign 
 myself, but I do not wish to hear him fiddle. 
 
180 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 Mrs. Grahame suggested that the fiddle 
 might be left at home. 
 
 " No, no ! Let him bring it ! by all means 
 let him bring it! if you can really endure it 
 without discomfort, that is. It will be the 
 greatest pleasure to the lad, who is a good 
 lad, though a deplorable milksop." 
 
 So Jack came with the precious black box 
 under his arm. Tea was set out on the 
 verandah, a symphony in white and gold, 
 golden croquettes, butter, honey, snowy rolls, 
 and cream cheese, and Hildegarde pouring 
 the tea, in white with gold-coloured ribbons at 
 waist and throat. 
 
 Jack Ferrers had never seen anything of 
 this sort. " Daddy " and he had always been 
 together, and neither of them had ever cared 
 or thought how anything looked. He won- 
 dered if his cousin Hildegarde was very frivo- 
 lous. Girls were, of course : and yet she 
 was certainly very pretty; and, if she really 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 181 
 
 cared for music and then, being eighteen 
 and hungry, he gave his undivided attention 
 to the croquettes, which truly deserved it. 
 
 And after tea, when they had sat quiet in 
 the twilight for a little, Hildegarde said 
 softly, "Now, Cousin Jack!" And Jack 
 took his violin and began to play. 
 
 At the first note Mrs. Grahame laid down 
 her knitting; at the second, she and Hilde- 
 garde exchanged glances ; at the third, they 
 forgot each other and everything else save 
 the music. First came a few simple chords, 
 melting into a soft harmony, a prelude as 
 low and sweet as the notes of the mother-bird 
 brooding over her nest ; then, suddenly, from 
 this soft cloud of peaceful harmony there 
 leaped a wonderful melody, clear and keen as 
 the same bird's song at daybreak, a melody 
 that mounted higher and higher, soaring as 
 the lark breasts the blue morning, flight upon 
 flight of golden notes pouring out as if the 
 
182 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 violin were a living thing, a breathing, .si 
 ing creature, with heart and soul filled and 
 brimming over with love and joy and beauty. 
 
 On and on the boy played, while the two 
 women listened spellbound, feeling that this 
 was no ordinary playing; and as he played 
 his whole aspect seemed to change. He 
 straightened himself and stood erect, save 
 for the loving bend of the head over the 
 beloved instrument. His blue eyes flashed, 
 his whole countenance grew luminous, in- 
 tense. The gawky, listless, indolent lad was 
 gone ; and one saw only the musician rapt 
 in his art. 
 
 When it was over, they were all silent for 
 a moment. Then Mrs. Grahame held out 
 her hand. i: My dear boy ! " she said. '' My 
 dear Jack, you ought to be the happiest 
 fellow in the world. To be able to give and 
 to enjoy such pleasure as this, is indeed a 
 great privilege." 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 183 
 
 Hildegarde could only look her thanks, for 
 the music had moved her deeply ; but her 
 smile told Jack all that he wanted to know, 
 and it appeared that girls were not all frivo- 
 lous ; also that it must be very nice to have 
 a mother. 
 
 Then he played again. Indeed, they left 
 him no choice, the Mozart concerto, of 
 which he . had spoken, and then one lovely 
 thing after another, barcarolle and serenade 
 and fairy dance, melting finally into the ex- 
 quisite melody of an old Gaelic lullaby. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Hildegarde, under her breath ; 
 and then, as her mother bade her, she sang 
 softly the words she loved, 
 
 "Slumber sweetly, little Donald." 
 
 Such a happy evening it was, on the wide 
 verandah, with the moon shining down, soft- 
 ening everything into magical wonders of 
 ivory and silver ! 
 
 It was the first of many such evenings, for 
 
184 HILDEGAKDE'S HOME. 
 
 soon Jack came to spending half his time at 
 Braeside. At nine o'clock Colonel Ferrers 
 would come striding up the gravel walk, 
 swinging his big stick ; and then the violin 
 would be tenderly laid away, and half an 
 hour of pleasant chat would follow, after 
 which uncle and nephew would go off to- 
 gether, and the last the two ladies heard of 
 them would be passionate adjurations from 
 the former to " step out," and not to " poke 
 your head forward like an army mule follow- 
 ing a grain-cart, sir!" 
 
 One day the two cousins were taking a 
 walk together. At least they had been walk- 
 ing, and now had sat down to rest on the 
 mossy trunk of a fallen tree, in fact, of the 
 same great sycamore which Hildegarde had 
 christened Philemon, on the memorable day 
 of the tree-climbing. They had been talking 
 about everything and nothing, when suddenly 
 Jack shook his head and began earnestly, 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 185 
 
 " Did your mother mean that the other 
 night?" 
 
 Hildegarde simply looked at him, and raised 
 her eyebrows. 
 
 " I mean about my being happy," the boy 
 continued. " Because I'm not happy, and I 
 never expect to be." 
 
 "What is it?" Hildegarde asked, seeing 
 that a confidence was coming. 
 
 " There is only one thing in the world that 
 I want," cried the boy, "and that is just 
 what I cannot have. I want to go to Leip- 
 sic, and Uncle Tom won't hear of it ; calls it 
 nonsense, and is going to send me to Harvard. 
 We are poor, you know ; Daddy doesn't know 
 anything about money, and and who cares 
 about it, anyhow, except for for things one 
 wants ? Uncle Tom says I can't make a bow, 
 and oh, all kinds of rubbish! What's the 
 use of making a bow ? I'm not going to be a 
 dancing-mastr, Hildegarde ! " 
 
186 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " Indeed, you would not be a good one ! " 
 his cousin said ; " but, considering that one 
 must make bows, Jack, isn't it just as well to 
 do it well as to do it badly ? " 
 
 " Who cares ? " cried the boy, shaking his 
 head wildly. " If a man is going to be any- 
 thing, who cares how he bows ? And oh, 
 of course that is one item. I am to go to 
 Harvard, and learn to bow and to dance, and 
 to be a classical scholar, and to play base-ball. 
 I hate base-ball, Hilda ! it's perfect idiocy, and 
 it makes my head ache, and any one can see 
 that I'm not cut out for athletics. Are you 
 laughing at me ? " 
 
 "Indeed I am not!" said Hildegarde, 
 heartily. " But, tell me ! you want to go to 
 Leipsic, to study music ? " 
 
 " Of course ! " was the reply. " And Daddy 
 wants me to go, and Herr Geigen is going over 
 in the autumn, and he would place me, and 
 all ; but Uncle Tom hates music, you know, 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME, 187 
 
 and if I speak of it he goes off in a rage, and 
 talks about rascally Dutch fiddlers, and says 
 I walk like a giraffe with the palsy. At least, 
 that was the animal this morning. Yesterday 
 I was a gouty ostrich, and I suppose we shall 
 go through the whole menagerie." 
 
 " You like him ? " Hildegarde said inter- 
 rogatively. 
 
 "He is very kind, in his way," replied 
 Jack. " Awfully kind, and he loves my 
 father, and I know he wants to do things 
 for me ; but it all has to be done in his 
 way, don't you see ? And well, there isn't 
 anything in me except music. I know that, 
 you see, Hildegarde. Just nothing ! " 
 
 " I don't feel so sure of that ! " Hildegarde 
 said. " Perhaps you never tried to develop 
 the other side of you. There must be other 
 sides, you know." 
 
 " No, there aren't ! " said Jack positively. 
 "None at alh! " 
 
188 HILDEGA ROE'S HOME. 
 
 " But that is nonsense ! " cried Hildegarde 
 impatiently. " Do you mean to say that you 
 are a flat surface, like a playing-card, with 
 ' music ' painted on you ? " 
 
 " I didn't know I was flat ! " rather stiffly. 
 
 " You see, you are not ! then why not try to 
 care for something else beside music, without 
 caring any the less for that ? " 
 
 a What is there to care for ? a parcel of 
 musty old books, such as Uncle Tom is for- 
 ever reading." 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! you Goth ! As if it were not a 
 rapture simply to look at the outside of your 
 uncle's books. To see my heart's own Doctor 
 in dark blue calf, with all that beautiful tool- 
 ing " 
 
 " What Doctor ? what are you talking 
 about, Hildegarde?" 
 
 u Johnson, of course! Is there another? 
 as the man in Punch says about his hatter. 
 And even in your own line, you foolish boy ! 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 189 
 
 Have you never read that beautiful ' Life of 
 Handel ' ? I looked into it the other day, and 
 it seemed delightful." 
 
 " No," said Jack, looking blank. " Where 
 is it ? I never saw it." 
 
 " Bookcase between the south windows, 
 fourth shelf, about the middle ; three fat vol- 
 umes in green morocco. And you never saw 
 it, because you never look at the books at all. 
 What do you look at, Jack, except your music 
 and your violin ? For example, do you ever 
 look in the glass? I know you don't." 
 
 "How do you know?" and Jack blushed 
 hotly. 
 
 "Because you won't mind? I am your 
 cousin, you know ! because your necktie is 
 so often crooked. It is crooked now ; a little 
 more to the right ! that's it ! And and you 
 ought to brush that spot off your coat. Now, 
 if you made it a point always to look in the 
 glass before leaving your room " 
 
190 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " Is that one of the sides you want me to 
 develop ? " asked Jack slowly. " Caring about 
 dress, and looks, and that sort of thing ? I 
 didn't know you were of that kind, Hilde- 
 garde." 
 
 " Of what kind ? " cried our heroine, blush- 
 ing furiously in her turn, and feeling that she 
 was in great danger of losing her temper. 
 " I certainly do care about my dress and 
 looks, as every one ought to do. Suppose the 
 next time you came to tea, you found me with 
 my hair tumbling down, and a great spot of 
 ink on my gown, and my ruffles torn ! Is 
 that the kind of person you like to see ? I 
 always thought Herrick's Julia was a most 
 untidy young woman, with her shoe-strings, 
 and her ' erring lace ' and all." 
 
 "I don't know who she is," said Jack 
 meekly. " But I beg your pardon if I was 
 rude, Hilda ; and and I will try to ' spruce 
 up/ as Uncle Tom is always trying to make 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 191 
 
 me. You see," he added shyly, " when you 
 look in the glass you see something nice, and 
 I don't ! " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Hildegarde, promptly. 
 "And then, Jack that is only one thing, of 
 course. But if you had the habit of using 
 your eyes ! Oh ! you don't know what a 
 difference it would make. I know, because 
 I used to be as blind as you are. I never 
 looked at anything till about two years ago. 
 And now of course I am only learning 
 still, and shall be learning all my life, I hope ; 
 but well, I do see things more or less. For 
 example, what do you see at our feet here ? " 
 
 " Grass ! " said Jack, peering about. 
 " Green grass. Do you think I don't know 
 that ? " 
 
 Hildegarde laughed, and clapped her hands. 
 
 "Just what I should have said two years 
 ago ! " she cried. " There are twelve differ- 
 ent plants that I know I've been counting 
 
192 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 them and several more that are new to 
 
 me." 
 
 " Well, they're all green, anyhow ! " said 
 Jack. " What's the difference ? " 
 
 Hildegarde scorned a direct reply, but went 
 on, being now mounted on her own hobby. 
 
 "And as for moths, Jack, you can have 
 no idea of what my ignorance was in regard 
 to moths." 
 
 " Oh, come ! " said Jack. " Every one 
 knows about moths, of course. They eat our 
 clothes, and fly into the lamps. That is one 
 of the things one finds out when one is a 
 baby, I suppose." 
 
 " Indeed ! " cried Hildegarde. And that 
 is all there is to find out, I suppose. Why " 
 she stopped suddenly ; then said in a very 
 different tone, " Oh, Jack ! this is a wonder- 
 ful coincidence. Look! oh, will you look? 
 oh ! the beautiful, beautiful dear ! Get me 
 something ! anything ! quick ! " 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 193 
 
 
 
 Jack, who was not accustomed to feminine 
 ways, wondered if his fair cousin was going 
 out of her mind. She was gazing intently at 
 a spot of lighter green on the " grass " at her 
 feet. Presently the spot moved, spread ; de- 
 veloped two great wings, delicate, exquisite, 
 in colour like a chrysoprase, or the pure, cold 
 green one sometimes sees in a winter sunset. 
 
 " What is it ? " asked Jack, in wonder. 
 
 " A Luna ! " cried Hildegarde. " Hush ! 
 slip off on the other side, quietly ! Fly tc 
 the house, and ask auntie for a fly-screen. 
 Quick, Jack ! " 
 
 Jack, greatly wondering, ran off none the 
 less, his long legs scampering with irreverent 
 haste through the Ladies' Garden. Returning 
 with the screen, which auntie gave him with- 
 out question, being well used to the sudden 
 frenzies of a moth-collector, he found Hilde- 
 garde on her knees, holding her handkerchief 
 over the great moth, which fortunately had 
 
194 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 
 remained quiet, being indeed stupid in the 
 
 strong light. The girl's face was all aglow 
 with triumph and delight. 
 
 "A perfect specimen," she cried, as she 
 skilfully conveyed the great moth under the 
 screen. "I have two, but the tails are a 
 little broken. Isn't he glorious, Jack ? Oh, 
 happy day ! Come, good cousin, and let us 
 take him home in a triumphal procession." 
 
 Jack looked rather blank. "Are you going 
 home now ? " he asked. 
 
 "Of course, v to put my beauty in the 
 ammonia jar." 
 
 " What is it ? " she added, seeing that her 
 cousin looked really vexed. 
 
 " Oh nothing ! " said Jack. " Nothing 
 of any consequence. I am ready." 
 
 "But what is it?" Hildegarde repeated. 
 " You would a great deal better tell me than 
 look like that, for I know I have done some- 
 thing to vex you." 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 195 
 
 "Well I am not used to girls, you know, 
 Hildegarde, and perhaps I am stupid. Only 
 well, I was going to ask you seriously 
 what you thought about my music, and all 
 that ; and first you tell me to look in the 
 glass, and then you go to catching moths and 
 forget all about me. I suppose it's all right, 
 only-" 
 
 He blushed, and evidently did not think it 
 was all right. Hildegarde blushed, too, in 
 real distress. 
 
 "My dear Jack," she cried, "how shall I 
 tell you how sorry I am ? " 
 
 She looked about for a suitable place, and 
 then carefully set down the fly-screen with 
 its precious contents. 
 
 " Sit down again," she cried, motioning 
 her cousin to take his place on the fallen 
 tree, while she did the same. "And you will 
 not believe now how interested I really am," 
 she said. " Mamma would never have been 
 
196 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 so stupid, nor Rose either. But you must 
 believe me. I was thinking about you till 
 till I saw the Lima, and you don't know 
 what a Luna means when one hasn't a per- 
 fect specimen. But now, tell me, do you 
 think it would be quite impossible to persuade 
 your uncle ? Why, you must go to Leipsic, 
 of course you must. He has he ever heard 
 you play, Jack ? " 
 
 Jack laughed rather bitterly. " Once/' he 
 said. " He cried out that when he wanted 
 to listen to cats with their tails tied together, 
 he would tie them himself. Since then I 
 always go up into the garret to practise, and 
 shut all the doors and windows." 
 
 " What a pity ! and he is so nice when one 
 knows him. I wonder do you know, Jack, 
 what I am thinking of ? " 
 
 Her face was so bright that the boy's face 
 brightened as he looked at it. 
 
 " I hope it is what I was thinking of," he 
 said; "but I didn't dare " 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 197 
 
 " Mamma/' cried Hildegarde. 
 
 He nodded in delight, colouring with 
 pleasure. 
 
 " She is just the person." 
 
 " Of course she is ; but will she ? " 
 
 " Of course she will. I am sure of it. 
 Your uncle shall come to tea some evening, 
 and you shall stay at home. I will go away 
 to write letters, and then oh, you see, 
 Jack, no one can resist mamma." 
 
 " What a good fellow you are, Hildegarde ! 
 Oh, I beg your pardon ! " 
 
 "Nevermind!" cried Hildegarde merrily. 
 "I did climb the tree, you know. And now, 
 come along. I must take my beauty, my 
 love, my moonlight rapture, up to his death." 
 
198 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 BONNY SIR HUGH. 
 
 MEANWHILE Hildegarde had not lost sight 
 of little Hugh Allen, the one link of interest 
 which connected her with The Poplars. He, 
 too, had been won by Mrs. Grahame's smile, 
 and had learned the way to Braeside ; and 
 the more they saw of him, the more Hilde- 
 garde and her mother felt that he was a 
 very remarkable little boy. 
 
 Much of the time he seemed to be lost in 
 dreams, wrapped in a cloud of silent thought; 
 and, again, from this cloud would flash out 
 the quaintest sayings, sudden outbursts of 
 passionate feeling, which were startling to 
 quiet, e very-day people. When he had been 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 199 
 
 walking with Mrs. Grahame, as he was fond 
 of doing (sneaking out by the back gate from 
 his prison-place, as he called it, and making a 
 detour to reach the road where she most 
 often walked), and when she said, " Now, 
 dear, it is time to say good-by, and go home," 
 he would throw himself on his knees, and 
 hold up his clasped hands, crying, " How can 
 I leave thee?" in a manner which positively 
 embarrassed her. 
 
 Now it happened one day that Hugh was 
 sitting with Merlin beside the brook that 
 flowed at the foot of the Ladies' Garden. 
 Hildegarde had told him to come through 
 the garden and wait for her, and it was his 
 first visit to the lovely, silent place. The 
 child went dreaming along between the high 
 box hedges, stopping occasionally to look 
 about him and to exchange confidences with 
 his dog. Merlin seemed to feel the influence 
 of the place, and went along quietly, with 
 
200 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 bent head and drooping tail. When the 
 murmur of the hidden streamlet first fell 
 upon his ear, " It is like the fishpools of 
 Heshbon," said the boy dreamily. " Isn't 
 it, Merlin? I never understood before." 
 Merlin put his cool black nose in his master's 
 hand, and gave a little sympathetic shake. 
 
 And now the pair were sitting on a bank of 
 moss, looking down into the dark, clear water, 
 which moved so swiftly yet so silently, with 
 only a faint sound, which somehow 7 seemed no 
 louder than when they were at a distance. 
 
 " Do you see that dark round place where 
 it is deep. Merlin ? " said the child. " Do. 
 you think that under there lives a fair woman 
 with green hair, who takes a person by the 
 hand, and kisses him, and pulls him down ? 
 Do you think that. Merlin?" But Merlin 
 sneezed, and shook his head, and evidently 
 thought nothing of the kind. " Then do you 
 think about fishes?" the boy went on. 
 
HlLDEGARDE FINDING Ht'GH AND MERLIN BY THE BROOK. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 203 
 
 " Dark little fishes, with gleaming eyes, who 
 are sad because they cannot speak. I wish I 
 knew your thoughts, Merlin." 
 
 " Wuff ! " said Merlin, in his voice of wel- 
 come, raising his head, and becoming in- 
 stantly a living image of cheerfulness. Hugh 
 looked, and there was his Purple Maid, all 
 bright and shining, standing among the green 
 trees, and smiling at him. The child's face 
 flushed with such vivid light that the place 
 seemed brighter. He held out his arms with 
 a passionate gesture that would have been 
 theatrical if it had not been so real, but re- 
 mained silent. 
 
 " Dear ! " said Hildegarde. " How quiet 
 you are, you and Merlin! I could not tell 
 whether it was your voice or the brook, talk- 
 ing." The boy and dog made room for her 
 between them, and she sat down. "Aren't 
 you going to speak to me, Hugh ? " she con- 
 tinued, as he still said nothing. 
 
204 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " I spoke to myself," said the boy. " When 
 I saw you stand there, angelic, in the green, 
 ' Blessed heart of woman ! ' I said to myself. 
 Do you like the sound of that ? " 
 
 " My bonny Sir Hugh ! " said Hildegarde, 
 laying her hand caressingly on the red-gold 
 hair. " I do like the sound of it. And do 
 you like this place ? I want you to care for 
 it as I do." 
 
 The boy nodded. " It is the place of dead 
 people," he said. "We are too alive to be 
 here." 
 
 "I call it the Ladies' Garden," said Hilde- 
 garde softly. " Fair, sweet ladies lived here 
 once, and loved it. They used to sit here, 
 Hugh, and wander up and down the green 
 paths, and fill the place with sweet, gentle 
 words. I don't believe they sang ; Hester 
 may have sung, perhaps." 
 
 " Were they fair as the moon, clear as the 
 sun ? " asked the child. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 205 
 
 "Where did you find those sweet words, 
 Sir Hugh?" 
 
 " In the Bible. ' Fair as the moon, clear as 
 the sun, terrible as an army with banners.' 
 And ' thy neck is a tower of ivory; Were 
 they terrible, do you think ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! they were very gentle, I think, 
 very soft and mild, like folds of old soft cash- 
 mere ; only Hester was blithe and gay, and 
 she died, Hugh, when she was just my age. 
 Think of it ! to die so young and go away 
 out of all the sunshine." 
 
 The child looked at her with strange eyes. 
 " Why do you be sad ? " he said. " Don't you 
 know afyout your Mother dear Jerusalem ? " 
 
 "A little," said Hildegarde. "Tell me 
 what you are thinking, Sir Hugh." 
 
 "It is greener there," said the child, "and 
 brighter. Don't you know, blessed heart ? 
 6 Where grow such sweet and pleasant flowers 
 as nowhere else are seen.' And more coloured 
 
206 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 words. Don't you love coloured words?" 
 The girl laid her hand on his lightly, but 
 said nothing, and he went on as if in a 
 drearn. 
 
 " ( Thy houses are of ivory, 
 
 Thy windows crystal clear, 
 Thy streets are laid with beaten gold 
 There angels do appear.' 
 
 " Two of them are papa and mamma/' he 
 added after a pause. " Do you think they 
 mind waiting for me very much ? At first I 
 wanted to go to them oh, so badly ! be- 
 cause those people are devils, and I would 
 rather die; but now I have you, Purple 
 Maid, and your mother is like balm dropping 
 in the valley, and I don't mind waiting, if 
 only I thought they didn't mind it too much." 
 He looked up wistfully, and Hildegarde bent 
 to kiss him. 
 
 "How long is it, dear?" she asked softly. 
 
 " A year now, a very long year, only I had 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 207 
 
 Merlin. And Uncle Loftus took me out of 
 charity, he said; but mamma said I was to 
 go to Aunt Martha, so that makes me feel 
 wrong, even if I wanted to stay with them, 
 and it is the pains of hell to me." 
 
 "Aunt Martha?" asked Hildegarde, will- 
 ing to ask more, yet dreading to rouse the 
 boy's scriptural eloquence on the subject of 
 his relatives at The Poplars. 
 
 Hugh nodded. " Mamma's aunt," he said. 
 " She lives somewhere, not far from here, but 
 I don't know where ; and Uncle Loftus won't 
 tell me, or let me see her, 'cause she is a me- 
 nial. What is a menial, dearly beloved ? " 
 
 "Did your uncle say that to you ?" Hilde- 
 garde asked, waiving the question. 
 
 "He said it at me! " was the reply. "At 
 my back, but I heard it. She was a menial, 
 and he wasn't going to have folks saying that 
 his aunt was housekeeper to a stuck-up old 
 bear, just because she was a fool and had no 
 
208 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 proper spirit. And the others said fc hush ! ' 
 and I went away, and now they won't let me 
 speak about her." 
 
 "Housekeeper to a why!" began Hil- 
 degarde ; and then she was silent, and 
 smoothed the child's hair thoughtfully. An 
 old bear ! that was what Mr. Loftus had 
 vulgarly called Colonel Ferrers. Could it be 
 possible that Jack had told her about dear, 
 good Mrs. Beadle, who had been nurse to his 
 father and uncle, and who was so devoted to 
 them all, and such a superior woman. She 
 had been meaning to go to see her the next 
 time she was at Roseholme. Was there a 
 mystery here ? was Mrs. Beadle the plump 
 and comfortable skeleton in the Loftus closet ? 
 She must ask Jack. 
 
 As she mused thus, the child had fallen 
 a-dreaming again, and they both sat for some 
 time silent, with the soft falling of the water 
 in their ears, and all the dim, shadowy 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 209 
 
 beauty of the place filling their hearts with 
 vague delight. 
 
 Presently, "Beloved/' said Hugh (he wa- 
 vered between this and "Purple Maid" as 
 names for Hildegarde, wholly ignoring her 
 own name), " Beloved, there is an angel near 
 me. Did you know it ? " 
 
 " There might well be angels in this place/' 
 said Hildegarde, looking at the boy, whose 
 wide blue eyes wore a far-away, spiritual look. 
 
 " I don't mean just here in this spot. I 
 mean floating through the air at night. I 
 hear him, almost every night, playing on his 
 harp of gold." 
 
 " Dear Hugh, tell me a little more clearly." 
 
 " Sometimes the moon shines in at my win- 
 dow and wakes me up, you know. Then I 
 get up and look out, for it is so like heaven, 
 only silver instead of gold ; and then then 
 I hear the angel play." 
 
 " What does it sound like ? " 
 
210 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " Sometimes like a voice, sometimes like 
 birds. And then it sobs and cries, and dies 
 away, and then it sounds out again, like 
 ' blow up the trumpet in the new moon,' and 
 goes up, up, up, oh, so high ! Do you think 
 that is when the angel goes up to the gate, 
 and then is sorry for people here, and comes 
 back again ? I have thought of that." 
 
 " My bonny Sir Hugh!" said Hildegarde 
 gently. " Would you care less about the lovely 
 music if it was not really made by an angel? 
 if it was a person like you and me, who had 
 the power and the love to make such beauti- 
 ful sounds?" 
 
 The child's face lightened. " Was it you ? " 
 he said in an awe-struck voice. 
 
 " Not I, dear, but my cousin, my cousin 
 Jack, who plays the violin most beautifully, 
 Hugh. He practises every night, up in the 
 garret at Roseholme, because only think! 
 his uncle does not like to hear him." 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 211 
 
 "The ostrich gentleman!" cried Hugh, 
 bursting into merry laughter. " Is it the 
 ostrich gentleman?" 
 
 Hildegarde tried to look grave, with mod- 
 erate success. "My cousin is tall," she said, 
 u but you must not call names, little lad ! " 
 
 " Never any more will I call him it," cried 
 Hugh, " if he is really the angel. But he 
 does look like one. Must we go ? " he asked 
 wistfully, as Hildegarde rose, and held out 
 her hand to him. 
 
 " Yes, dear, I am going to the village, you 
 know. I thought we would come this way 
 because I wanted you to see the Ladies' 
 Garden. Now we must go across the 
 meadow, and round by the back of Rose- 
 holme to find the road again." 
 
 They crossed the brook by some mossy 
 stepping-stones, and climbed the dark slope 
 on the further side, thick-set with ferns and 
 dusky hemlock-trees. Then came the wall, 
 
212 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 and then the sudden break into the sunny 
 meadow. Hugh threw off his grave mood 
 with the shadow, and danced and leaped in 
 the sunshine. 
 
 "Shall I run with Merlin?" he asked. 
 " You have never seen us run, Beloved ! " 
 
 Hildegarde nodded, and with a shout and a 
 bark the two were off. A pretty sight they 
 were ! the boy's golden head bobbing up and 
 down in full energy of running, the dog 
 bounding beside him with long, graceful 
 leaps. They breasted the long, low hill, then 
 swept round in a wide circle, and came rush- 
 ing past Hildegarde, breathless and radiant. 
 This was more than our heroine could bear. 
 With a merry " Hark, follow ! " she started 
 in pursuit, and was soon running abreast of 
 the others, with head thrown back, eyes 
 sparkling, cheeks glowing. 
 
 " Hurrah ! " cried Hugh. 
 
 "Hurrah it is ! " echoed the Purple Maid. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 213 
 
 " Wow, wow!" panted Merlin, ecstatically. 
 
 As the chase swept round the hill the 
 second time, two gentlemen came out of the 
 woods, and paused in amazement at the sight. 
 Hildegarde's long hair had come down, and 
 was flying in the wind ; her two companions 
 were frantic with delight, and bobbed and 
 leaped, shouting, beside her. So brignt was 
 the sunshine, so vivid in colour, so full of life 
 the three runners, they seemed actually to 
 flash as they moved. 
 
 "Harry Monmouth!" cried Colonel Ferrers. 
 "Here is a girl who knows how to run. Look 
 at that action ! It's poetry, sir ! it's rhythm 
 and metre and melody. 
 
 " ' Nor lighter does the swallow skim 
 Along the smooth lake's airy rim.' 
 
 After her, Master Milksop, and let me see 
 what your long legs can do ! " 
 
 Jack Ferrers needed no second bidding, 
 and though his running was not graceful, 
 
214 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 being rather a hurling himself forward, as if 
 he were catapult and missile in one, he got 
 over the ground with great rapidity, and 
 caught his cousin up as she came flying round 
 the meadow for the third time. Hildegarde 
 stopped short, in great confusion. 
 
 " Jack ! " she faltered, panting. " How 
 where did you come from? You must have 
 started up out of the earth." 
 
 Turning to capture her flying tresses, she 
 caught sight of Colonel Ferrers, and her con- 
 fusion was redoubled. 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, the crimson mounting 
 from her cheeks to her forehead, bathing her 
 in a fiery tide. " Oh ! how could you ? He 
 he will be sure I am a tomboy now." 
 
 " Nothing of the kind, my fair Atalanta ! " 
 exclaimed the Colonel, who had the ears of 
 a fox. He advanced, beaming, and flourish- 
 ing his stick. " No thing of the kind!" he 
 repeated. " He is delighted, on the contrary, 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 216 
 
 to see a young creature who can make the 
 free movements of nature with nature's grace 
 and activity. Harry Monmouth ! Miss Hilde-' 
 garde, I wish I were twenty years younger, 
 and I would challenge you to a race myself!" 
 
216 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A CALL AND A CONSPIRACY. 
 
 "AND you really seriously intend passing 
 the winter here ? " asked Miss Leonie Loftus. 
 
 This young lady had come to make a part- 
 ing call at Braeside. It was near the end of 
 August, and three months of country life 
 were all that she could possibly endure, and 
 she was going with her mother to Long 
 Branch, and thence to Saratoga. 
 
 " You really mean it?" she repeated, look- 
 ing incredulous. 
 
 "Assuredly!" replied Hildegarde, smiling. 
 " Winter and summer, and winter again, Miss 
 Loftus. This is our home now, and we have 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 217 
 
 become attached to it even in these few 
 months." 
 
 " Oh, you look at it in a sentimental light," 
 said Miss Loftus, with a disagreeable smile. 
 " The domestic hearth, and that sort of thing. 
 Rather old-fashioned, isn't it ? Miss Grahame ? " 
 
 " Possibly ; I have never thought of it as a 
 matter of fashion," was the quiet reply. 
 
 " And how do you expect to kill time in 
 your wilderness ? " was the next question. 
 
 "Kill him?" Hildegarde laughed. "We 
 never can catch him, even for a moment, 
 Miss Loftus. He flies faster at Braeside than 
 even in New York. I sometimes think there 
 are only two days in the week, Monday and 
 Saturday." 
 
 " I hear you have a sewing-school in the vil- 
 lage. I suppose that will take up some time." 
 
 " I hope so ! The children seem inter- 
 ested, and it is a great pleasure to me. Then, 
 too, I expect to join some of Miss Wayland's 
 
218 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 classes in the fall, and that will keep me 
 busy, of course." 
 
 " Miss Wayland, over in Dorset ? Why, it 
 is three miles off." 
 
 " And even if so ? I hear it is a delightful 
 school, and Miss Wayland herself is very 
 lovely. Do you know her ? " 
 
 " No ! " said Miss Loftus, who had been 
 " dying " as she would have put it, to get 
 into Miss Wayland' s school three years before. 
 " A country boarding-school isn't my idea of 
 education." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Hildegarde civilly. " But to 
 go back for a moment, Miss Loftus. Your 
 speaking of the children reminds me to ask 
 you, is little Hugh going with you to Long 
 Branch?" 
 
 Miss Loftus coloured. " Oh, dear, no ! " she 
 replied. "A child at such places, you know, 
 is out of the question. He is to be sent to 
 school. He is going next week." 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 219 
 
 "But pardon me ! are not all schools in 
 vacation now ?" 
 
 " I believe so ! But these people the 
 Miss Hardbacks are willing to take him 
 now, and keep him." 
 
 "Poor little lad!" murmured Hildegarde, 
 regardless of the fact that it was none of her 
 business. " Will he not be very lonely ? " 
 
 " Beggars must not be choosers, Miss Gra- 
 hame ! " was the reply, with another unamia- 
 ble smile. Miss Loftus really would not have 
 smiled at all, if she had known how she 
 looked. 
 
 No sooner was the visitor gone, than Hilde- 
 garde flew up to her mother with the news. 
 The Loftuses were going away ; they were 
 going to send Hugh to school. What was to 
 be done ? He could not go ! He should not 
 go. 
 
 She was greatly excited, but Mrs. Grahame's 
 quiet voice and words restored her composure. 
 
220 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " ' Can't ' and ' shan't ' never won a battle ! " 
 said that lady. " We must think and 
 plan." 
 
 Hildegarde had lately discovered, beyond 
 peradventure, from some chance words let 
 fall by little Hugh, that his mother had been 
 the sister of Mr. Loftus ; and she felt no doubt 
 in her own mind that good Mrs. Beadle was 
 aunt to both. The sister had been a school 
 teacher, had married a man of some educa- 
 tion, who died during the second year of their 
 marriage, leaving her alone, in a Western 
 town, with her little baby. She had strug- 
 gled on, not wishing to be a burden either on 
 her rich brother (who had not approved her 
 marriage) or her aunt, who had nothing but 
 her savings and her comfortable berth at 
 Roseholme. At length, consumption laying 
 its deadly hand on her, she sent for her 
 brother, and begged him to take the boy to 
 their good aunt, who, she knew, would care 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 221 
 
 for him as her own. " But he didn't ! " said 
 Hugh. " He did not do that. He said he 
 would make a man of me, but I don't believe 
 he could make a very good one, do you, 
 Beloved?" 
 
 Now the question was, how to bring about 
 a meeting between the boy and his great- 
 aunt, if great-aunt she were. 
 
 No child was allowed to enter the sacred 
 precincts of Roseholme, for Colonel Ferrers 
 regarded children, and especially boys, as the 
 fountain-head of all mischief, flower-break- 
 ing, bird-nesting, turf -destroy ing. His own 
 nephew had had to wait eighteen years for an 
 invitation. How could it be possible to intro- 
 duce little Hugh, a boy and a stranger, into 
 the charmed garden ? 
 
 If " Mammina " could only take him ! No 
 one could resist her mother, Hildegarde 
 thought; certainly not Colonel Ferrers, who 
 admired her so much. But this dear mother 
 
222 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 had sprained her ankle a week before, slip- 
 ping on a mossy stone in the garden, and 
 was only now beginning to get about, using a 
 crutched stick. 
 
 Mrs. Grahame and Hildegarde put their 
 heads together, and talked long and earnestly. 
 Then they sent for Jack, and took counsel 
 with him ; and a plan was made for the first 
 act of what Hildegarde called the Drama of 
 the Conspirators. 
 
 A day or two after, when Mrs. Beadle drove 
 to the town of Whitfield, some miles off, on 
 her weekly marketing trip, it was Jack Fer- 
 rers, instead of Giuseppe, the faithful man- 
 servant, who held the reins and drove the 
 yellow wagon with the stout brown cob. He 
 wanted to buy some things, he said : a neck- 
 tie, and some chocolate, and oh, lots of 
 things ; and Mrs. Beadle was only too glad 
 of his company. The good housekeeper was 
 dressed, like Villikins' Dinah, in gorgeous 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 223 
 
 array, her cashmere shawl being of the finest 
 scarlet, her gown of a brilliant blue, while 
 her bonnet nodded with blue and yellow corn- 
 flowers. Not a tradesman in Whitfield but 
 came smiling to his door when he saw Mrs. 
 Beadle's yellow cart ; for she was a good 
 customer, and wanted everything of the best 
 for her Colonel. When they at last turned 
 Chow-chow's head homeward, the wagon was 
 nearly filled with brown-paper parcels, and 
 Jack's pockets bulged out in all directions. 
 As they drove along the pleasant road, fringed 
 with oaks and beeches, Jack broke silence 
 with, " Biddy, did you ever have any chil- 
 dren?" 
 
 " Bless me, Master Jack, how you startled 
 me! "^cried Mrs. Beadle, who was deep in 
 a problem of jelly and roly-poly pudding. 
 "No, dear ! no jelly I should say, no chick 
 nor child had I ever. I wasn't good enough, 
 I suppose." 
 
224 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " Nonsense, Biddy ! " said Jack. " But you 
 must have had some relations ; some nieces 
 or nephews, or something of that sort." 
 
 Mrs. Beadle sighed, and fell straightway 
 into the trap. 
 
 " I had, dear ! I had, indeed, once upon a 
 time. But they're no good to me now, and 
 never will be." 
 
 She sighed again. 
 
 " How no good to you ? " queried this art- 
 ful Jack. 
 
 " Oh, 'tis a long story, dear, and you 
 wouldn't care for it at all. You would ? 
 Well ! well ! there's no harm that I know of 
 in speaking of it. I've nothing to be ashamed 
 of. I had a niece, Master Jack, and a dearer 
 one never was, nor married to a finer- young 
 man. But they went out West, and he died, 
 and left her with a baby. I wrote again and 
 again, begging her to come home, but she 
 was doing well, she said, and felt to stay, and 
 
HTLDEGARDE'S HOME. 225 
 
 had friends there, and all. Oh, dear ! and last 
 year a year ago it is now, she died." Mrs. 
 Beadle drew out a handkerchief and wiped 
 her eyes. " She died, iny dear ; and I 
 didn't ought to speak of this, Master Jack, it 
 do upset me so I don't know where the 
 child is to this day." 
 
 "Her 'child ?" asked Jack, with a guilty 
 consciousness of his ears being red. 
 
 "My own dear niece Martha's child!" 
 repeated the good woman sorrowfully. " A 
 boy it was, as should be seven years old by 
 this time. I've wrote, and I've wrote, but 
 no answer could I get. And whether he is 
 dead, too, or whether his father's people have 
 him, or what, is darkness to me." 
 
 " The brute ! " exclaimed Jack Ferrers ve- 
 hemently. " The cold-hearted, odious brute ! " 
 
 " What is it, my deaj ? " cried Mrs. Beadle, 
 drying her tears, and looking with alarm at 
 the pony. " His tail over the reins, is it ? 
 
226 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 Well, he will do that, but 'tis only play. He 
 means no harm." 
 
 " Oh, I know ! " cried Jack in confusion. 
 " I didn't mean that is and is that all 
 the relatives you have, Biddy ? " 
 
 "Why, boys do love questions, don't they?" 
 the good woman said. " I have a nephew 
 living, Master Jack ; and if you guessed from 
 now till Sunday week, you never would guess 
 his name." 
 
 " Solomon Grundy " rose to Jack's lips, he 
 could not in the least tell why. He did his 
 best to look unconscious, but it was perhaps 
 fortunate that Mrs. Beadle was so absorbed 
 in her own troubled thoughts that she did not 
 look at him. 
 
 "Who is it?" he asked. "Do tell me, 
 Biddy ! * Is it any one I ever heard of ? " 
 
 " Hush, my dear ! don't tell a soul that I 
 mentioned it. I am not one to force myself 
 on them as has got up in the world, and 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 227 
 
 think honest service a disgrace. It's Ephraim 
 Loftus ! " 
 
 "Not Mr. Loftus at the Poplars?" 
 " Mr. Loftus at the Poplars ! The very 
 same. My own sister's son, and little credit 
 lie is to either of us. Don't ask me how 
 he made his money, for I don't know, and 
 don't want to know. When he was a lit- 
 tle boy, his pockets were always full of pen- 
 nies that he got from the other boys, trad- 
 ing and the like, and nobody had a kindness 
 for him, though they loved Martha. Not 
 a soul in the village but loved Martha, 
 and would do anything for her. So when 
 Ephraim was fourteen or so, he went away 
 to New York, and we never heard anything 
 more till he came back three or four years 
 ago, a rich man, and built that great house, 
 and lived there summers. I've never seen 
 him but once ; I don't go out, only just in 
 the back garden, except when I drive to 
 
228 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 town. And that once he looked me all over, 
 as if I was a waxwork in a glass case, and 
 never stopped nor spoke a word. That's 
 Ephraim Loftus! He needn't have been 
 afraid of my troubling him or his, I can tell 
 him. I wouldn't demean myself." Mrs. 
 Beadle's face was red, and her voice trembled 
 with angry pride. 
 
 "And- Jack wished Hildegarde were 
 speaking instead of himself ; she would know 
 what to say, and he felt entirely at a loss. 
 " Do you do you suppose he knows any- 
 thing about about his sister's little boy?" 
 
 Mrs. Beadle looked as if some one had 
 struck her a blow. " Ephraim Loftus!" she 
 cried. " If I thought that, Master Jack, I'd 
 I'd why, what's the matter, sir?" For 
 Jack had risen in his seat, and was waving 
 the whip wildly round his head. 
 
 "It's my cousin," he said. "Don't you 
 see her coming ?" 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 229 
 
 " Oh, the dear young lady ! yes, to be sure. 
 Walking this way, isn't she ? Never mind me. 
 Master Jack ! " said the good woman, striving 
 for composure. " I was upset by what you 
 said, that's all. It gave me a thought who 
 is the little boy with Miss Grahame, dear?" 
 
 "He? oh he's a boy," said Jack, rather 
 incoherently. " His name is Hugh. Good- 
 morning, Hildegarde ! Hallo, Hugh ! how 
 are you ? " 
 
 " Good-morning ! " cried Hildegarde, as the 
 wagon drew up beside her. " Good-morning, 
 Mrs. Beadle. Isn't it a lovely day ? Will 
 the pony stand, Jack ? " 
 
 " Like a rock ! " and Jack, obeying the 
 hint, leaped to the ground. 
 
 Mrs. Beadle had turned very pale. She 
 was gazing fixedly at Hugh, who returned 
 the look with wide blue eyes, shining with 
 some strong emotion. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Beadle," said Hildegarde gently, 
 
230 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 taking the housekeeper's hand in hers as she 
 leant against the wagon, " this is a very 
 dear little friend of mine, whom I want you 
 to know. His name is Hugh ; Hugh Allen ; 
 and he is staying with his uncle, Mr. Loftus." 
 
 " I knew it ! " cried Mrs. Beadle, clapping 
 her hands together. (k I knew it ! And I am 
 going to faint ! " 
 
 " No, don't do that ! " said Hugh, climbing 
 up into the seat beside her. u Don't do that. 
 You must be calm, for you are my great- 
 aunt, and I am your little nephew. How 
 do you do ? I am very glad to see you." 
 
 " You are sure he will stand?" whispered 
 Hildegarde. 
 
 " Look at him ! he is asleep already." 
 
 " Then come along ! " and the two conspir- 
 ators vanished among the trees. 
 
 They pushed on a little way through the 
 tangle of undergrowth, and paused, breathless 
 and radiant, under a great beech-tree. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 281 
 
 " Jack/' said Hildegarde, 6i you are a dear ! 
 How did you manage it ? " 
 
 " I didn't manage it at all. I am a stupid 
 ninny. Why, I've thrown her into a fit. Do 
 you think it's safe to leave her alone ?" 
 
 " Nonsense ! a joy fit does not hurt, when 
 a person is well and strong. Oh ! isn't it 
 delightful ! and you have enjoyed it, too, 
 Jack, haven't you ? I am sure you have. 
 And why, you have a new hat ! and your 
 necktie is straight. You look really very 
 nice, mon cousin ! " 
 
 " Mille remerdments, ma cousine ! " replied 
 Jack, with a low bow, which, Hildegarde 
 noticed, was not nearly so like the shutting- 
 up of a jackknife as it would have been a few 
 weeks ago. "Am I really improving? You 
 have no idea what I go through with, looking 
 in the glass. It is a humiliating practice. 
 Have some chocolates ? " He pulled out a box, 
 and they crunched in silent contentment. 
 
232 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " Now I think we may go back," said 
 Hildegarde, after her third bonbon. " But 
 I must tell you first what Hugh said. I told 
 him the whole story as we walked along ; first 
 as if it were about some one else, you know, 
 and then when he had taken it all in, I told 
 him that he himself was the little boy. He 
 was silent at first, reflecting,, as he always 
 does. Then he said : ' I am like an enchanted 
 prince, I think. Generally it is fair ones 
 with golden locks that take them out of 
 prison, but at my age a great-aunt is better. 
 Don't you think so, Beloved ? ' and I did think 
 
 80." 
 
 "But it was a fair one with golden locks 
 who planned it all ! " Jack said, with a shy 
 look at his cousin's fair hair. 
 
 " Jack, you are learning to pay compli- 
 ments! " cried Hildegarde, clapping her hands. 
 " I believe you will go to Harvard after all, 
 and be a classical scholar." 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 233 
 
 "I would never pay another," said Jack 
 seriously, "if I thought it would have that 
 effect." 
 
 When they returned to the wagon, they 
 found Mrs. Beadle still wiping away joyful 
 tears, while Hugh was apparently making 
 plans for the future. His voice rang out 
 loud and clear. "And we will dwell in a 
 corner of the house-top, and have a dinner of 
 herbs ! " said the child. " They may have all 
 the stalled oxes themselves, mayn't they, 
 great-aunt? And you will clothe us in 
 scarlet and fine wool, won't you, great- 
 aunt?" 
 
 " Bless your dear heart ! " cried Mrs. Beadle. 
 " Is it red flannel you mean ? Don't tell me 
 those heathen haven't put you into flannels! " 
 And she wept again. 
 
284 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE SECOND ACT. 
 
 COLONEL FERRERS was taking his after- 
 noon stroll in the garden. Dinner was over ; 
 for at Roseholme, as at Braeside, country 
 hours were kept, with early dinner, and seven 
 o'clock tea, the pleasantest of all meals. 
 
 With a fragrant Manilla cigar between 
 his lips, and his good stick in his hand, the 
 Colonel paced up and down the well-kept gravel 
 paths, at peace with all mankind. The gar- 
 den was all ablaze with geranium and ver- 
 bena, heliotrope and larkspur. The pansies 
 spread a gold and purple mantle in their own 
 corner, while poppies were scattered all about 
 in well-planned confusion. All this was Giu- 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 235 
 
 seppe's work, good, faithful Giuseppe, who 
 never rested, and never spoke, save to say 
 66 Subito, Signor ! " when his master called 
 him. He was at work now in a corner of 
 the garden, setting out chrysanthemums ; 
 but no one would have known it, so noiseless 
 were his motions, so silent his coming and 
 going. 
 
 The Colonel, though pleasantly conscious 
 of the lovely pomp spread out for his delight, 
 was thinking of other things than flowers. 
 He was thinking how his nephew Jack had 
 improved in the last two months. Positively, 
 thought the Colonel, the boy was developing, 
 was coming out of the animal kingdom, and 
 becoming quite human. Partly due to the In- 
 dian clubs, no doubt, and to his, the Colonel's, 
 wholesome discipline and instructions ; but 
 largely, sir, largely to feminine influence. 
 Daily intercourse with women like Mrs. Gra- 
 hame and her daughter would civilise a go- 
 
236 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 rilla, let alone a well-intentioned giraffe who 
 played the fiddle. He puffed meditatively at 
 his cigar, and dwelt on a pleasant picture that 
 his mind called up : Hildegarde as he had 
 seen her yesterday, sitting with a dozen little 
 girls about her, and telling them stories while 
 they sewed, under her careful supervision, at 
 patchwork and dolls' clothes. How sweet she 
 looked ! how bright her face was, as she told 
 the merry tale of the " Midsummer Night's 
 Dream." " Harry Monmouth, sir ! she was 
 telling 'em Shakespeare ! And they were 
 drinking it in as if it had been Mother 
 Goose." The Colonel paused, and sighed 
 heavily. "If Hester had lived," he said, "if 
 my little Hester had lived " and then he 
 drew a long whiff of the fragrant Manilla, 
 and walked on. 
 
 As he turned the corner by the great canna 
 plant, he came suddenly upon Mrs. Beadle, 
 who was apparently waiting to speak to him. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 237 
 
 The good housekeeper was in her state dress 
 of black silk, with embroidered apron and 
 lace mitts, and a truly wonderful cap ; and 
 Colonel Ferrers, if he had been observant of 
 details, might have known that this portended 
 something of a serious nature. Being such 
 as he was, he merely raised his hat with his 
 grave courtesy, and said : " Good-afternoon, 
 Mrs. Beadle. Is it about the yellow pickles ? 
 The same quantity as usual, ma'am, or per- 
 haps a few more jars, as I wish to send some 
 to Mrs. Grahame at Braeside." 
 
 Mrs. Beadle shivered a little. She had 
 
 9 
 
 made the yellow pickles at Roseholme for five 
 and twenty years ; and now, " No, sir," she 
 said faintly. "It is not the pickles." She 
 plucked at the fringe of her shawl, and 
 Colonel Ferrers waited, though with a kind- 
 ling eye. Women were admirable, but some 
 of their ways were hard to bear. 
 
 Finally Mrs. Beadle made a desperate effort, 
 
238 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 and said, " Do you think, sir, that you could 
 find some one to take my place? " 
 
 Colonel Ferrers fixed a look of keen in- 
 quiry on her, and instantly felt her pulse. 
 "Rapid!" he said, "and fluttering; Eliza- 
 beth Beadle, are you losing your mind ?" 
 
 "I have found my little boy, sir," cried 
 Mrs. Beadle, bursting into tears. " My dear 
 niece Martha's own child, Colonel Ferrers. 
 He is in the hands of heathen reprobates, if I 
 do say it, and it is my duty to make a home 
 for him. I never thought to leave Roseholme 
 while work I could, but you see how it is, sir." 
 
 "I see how it is?" cried the Colonel, 
 with a sudden explosion. Then controlling 
 himself by a great effort, he said with forced 
 calmness, " I will walk over to the end of the 
 garden, Elizabeth Beadle, and when I return 
 I shall expect a sensible and coherent do 
 you understand ? coherent account of this 
 folderol. See how it is, indeed ! " 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 239 
 
 The Colonel strode off, muttering to him- 
 self, and poor Mrs. Beadle wiped her eyes, and 
 smoothed down her apron with trembling 
 hands, and made up her mind that she would 
 not cry, if she should die for it. 
 
 When the grim-frowning Colonel returned, 
 she told her story with tolerable plainness, 
 and concluded by begging that her kind 
 friend and master would not be angry, but 
 would allow her to retire to a cottage, where 
 she could " see to " her niece's child, and bring 
 him up in a Christian way. 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! my good Beadle ! " cried 
 the Colonel. " Stuff and nonsense, my good 
 soul ! I am delighted that you have found 
 the child ; delighted, I assure you. We will 
 get him away from those people, never fear 
 for that ! and we will send him to school. A 
 good school, ma'am, is the place for the boy. 
 None of your Hardbacks, but a school where 
 he will be happy and well-treated. In vaca- 
 
240 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 tion time hum ! ha ! you might take a 
 little trip with him now and then, perhaps. 
 But as to disturbing your position here 
 Pooh ! pooh ! stuff and nonsense ! Don't let 
 me hear of it again ! " 
 
 Mrs. Beadle trembled, but remained firm. 
 "No school, sir!" she said. "What the 
 child needs is a home, Colonel Ferrers ; and 
 there's nobody but me to make one for him. 
 No, sir ! never, if I gave my life to it, could 
 *I thank you as should be for your kindness 
 since first I set foot in this dear house, as no 
 other place will ever be home to me ! but go 
 I must, Colonel, and the sooner the better." 
 
 Then the Colonel exploded. His face 
 became purple ; his eyes flashed fire, and, 
 leaning upon his stick, he poured out volley 
 upon volley of reproach, exhortation, argu- 
 ment. Higher and higher rose his voice, till 
 the very leaves quivered upon the trees ; till 
 the object of his wrath shook like an aspen, 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 241 
 
 and even Giuseppe, in the north corner of 
 the garden, quailed, and murmured " Santa 
 Maria ! " over his chrysanthemums. 
 
 How much more frightened, since theirs 
 was the blame of all the mischief, were two 
 guilty creatures who at this moment crouched, 
 concealed behind a great laurel-bush, listening 
 with all their ears ! 
 
 Jack and Hildegarde exchanged terrified 
 glances. They had known that the Colonel 
 would be angry, but they had no idea of 
 anything like this. He was in a white heat 
 of rage, and was hurling polysyllabic wrath 
 at the devoted woman before him, who stood 
 speechless but unshaken, meekly receiving 
 the torrent of invective. 
 
 Suddenly, there was a movement among 
 the bushes ; and the next moment a small 
 form emerged from the shade, and stood in 
 front of the furious old gentleman. " Is your 
 name Saul ?" asked Hugh quietly. 
 
242 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 The two conspirators had forgotten the 
 child. They had brought him with them, 
 with some faint idea of letting the Colonel 
 see him as if by accident, hoping that his 
 quaint grace might make a favourable impres- 
 sion ; but in the stress of the occasion they 
 had wholly forgotten his presence, and now 
 now matters were taken out of their hands. 
 Hildegarde clutched her parasol tight ; Jack 
 clasped his violin, and both listened and 
 looked with all their souls. 
 
 " Is your name Saul ? " repeated the boy, 
 as the Colonel, astonishment choking for an 
 instant the torrent of his rage, paused speech- 
 less. " Because if it is, the evil spirit from 
 God is upon you, and you should have some 
 one play with his hand." 
 
 " What what is this ? " gasped the 
 Colonel. " Who are you, boy ? " 
 
 " I am my great-aunt's little nephew," 
 said Hugh. " But no matter for me. You 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 243 
 
 must sit down when the evil spirit is upon 
 you. You might hurt some one. Why do 
 you look so at me, great-aunt ? Why don't 
 you help Mr. Saul ? " 
 
 " Come away, Hughie, love ! " cried Mrs. 
 Beadle, in an agony of terror. " Come, dear, 
 and don't ever speak to the Colonel so again. 
 He's only a babe, sir, as doesn't know what he 
 is saying." 
 
 "Go away yourself!" roared the Colonel, 
 recovering the power of speech. " Depart, 
 do you hear? Remove yourself from my 
 presence, or " he moved forward. Mrs. 
 Beadle turned and fled. " Now," he said, 
 turning to the child, " what do you mean, 
 child, by what you said just now ? I I 
 will sit down." 
 
 He sank heavily on a garden seat and 
 motioned the child before him. " What do 
 you mean, about Saul eh ? " 
 
 "But you know," said Hugh, opening wide 
 
244 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 eyes of wonder, " are you so old that you 
 forget? how the evil spirit from God came 
 upon King Saul, and they sent for David, 
 and he played with his hand till the evil 
 spirit went away. Now you remember ? " Pie 
 nodded confidently, and sat down beside the 
 Colonel, who, though still heaving and pant- 
 ing from his recent outburst, made no motion 
 to repel him. "1 said Mr. Saul," Hugh con- 
 tinued, "because you are not a king, you see, 
 and I suppose just ' Saul ' would not be polite 
 when a person is as old as you are. And 
 what do you think?" he cried joyously, as a 
 sudden thought struck him. " The ostrich 
 gentleman plays most beautifully with his 
 hand. His name isn't David, but that doesn't 
 matter. I am going to find him." 
 
 "Play, Jack," whispered Hildegarde. " Play, 
 quick! Something old and simple. Play 
 < Annie Laurie.' ' 
 
 Obeying the girl's fleeting look, Jack laid 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 245 
 
 fiddle to bow, and the old love tune rose from 
 behind the laurel-bush and floated over the 
 garden, so sweet, so sweet, the very air seemed 
 to thrill with tenderness and gentle melody. 
 
 Colonel Ferrers sank back on the seat. 
 "Hester's song," he murmured. "Hester's 
 song. Is it Hester, or an angel ? " 
 
 The notes rose, swelled into the pathetic 
 
 refrain, 
 
 "And for bonny Annie Laurie, 
 I'd lay me down and die." 
 
 Then they sank away, and left the silence 
 still throbbing, as the hearts of the listeners 
 throbbed. 
 
 "/ thought it was an angel," cried Hugh, 
 "when I first heard him, Mr. Saul. But it 
 isn't. It is the ostrich gentleman, and he 
 has to play up in the attic generally, because 
 his uncle is a poor person who doesn't kn,ow 
 how to like music. I am so sorry for his 
 uncle, aren't you?" 
 
246 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " Yes," said Colonel Ferrers gruffly. " Yes, 
 I am.. Very sorry." 
 
 A pause followed. Then Hugh asked cau- 
 tiously : " How do you feel now, Mr. Saul ? 
 Do you feel as if the evil spirit were going 
 away?" 
 
 " I've got him," said the Colonel, in whose 
 eyes the fire of anger was giving place to 
 something suspiciously like a twinkle. " I've 
 got 'him bottled up. Now, youngster, who 
 told you all that?" 
 
 "All what?" asked Hugh, whose thoughts 
 were beginning to wander as he gazed around 
 the garden. "About the poor person who 
 doesn't know how to " 
 
 "No, no," said the Colonel hastily, "not 
 that. About Saul and David, and all that. 
 Who put you up to it ? Hey ? " 
 
 His keen eyes gazed intently into the clear 
 blue ones of the child. Hugh stared at him 
 a moment, then answered gently, with a note 
 
HILDEGARDE'fc HOME. 247 
 
 of indulgence, as if he were speaking to a 
 much younger child : " It is in the Bible. It 
 is a pity that you do not know it. But per- 
 haps there are no pictures in your Bible. 
 There was a big one where I lived, all full of 
 pictures, so I learned to read that way. And 
 I always liked the Saul pictures," he added, 
 his eyes kindling, " because David was beauti- 
 ful, you know, and of a ruddy countenance ; 
 and King Saul was all hunched up against 
 the tent-post, with his eyes glaring just as 
 yours were when you roared, only he was 
 uglier. You are not at all ugly now, but 
 then you looked as if you were going to burst. 
 If a person should burst " 
 
 Colonel Ferrers rose, and paced up and 
 down the path, going a few steps each 
 way, and glancing frequently at the boy 
 from lander his bushy eyebrows. Hugh fell 
 into a short reverie, and woke to say cheer- 
 fully: 
 
248 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " This place fills me with heavenly joys. 
 Does it fill you?" 
 
 " Humph ! " growled the Colonel. " If you 
 lived here, you would break all the flowers 
 off, I suppose, and pull 'em to pieces to see 
 how they grow ; eh ? " 
 
 Hugh contemplated him dreamily. " Is 
 that what you did when you were a little 
 boy ? " he answered. " I love flowers. I 
 don't like to pick them, for it takes their life. 
 I don't care how they grow, as long as they 
 do grow." 
 
 " And you would take all the birds' eggs," 
 continued the Colonel, " and throw stones at the 
 birds, and trample the flower-beds, and bring 
 mud into the house, and tie fire-crackers to the 
 cat's tail, and upset the ink. / know you! " 
 
 Hugh rose with dignity, and fixed his eyes 
 on the Colonel with grave disapproval. " You 
 do not know me ! " he said. " And and if 
 that is the kind of boy you were, it is no 
 
HUGH AND COLONKL FERRERS. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 251 
 
 wonder that the evil spirit comes upon you. 
 I shouldn't be a bit surprised if you did burst 
 some day. Good-by, Mr. Saul ! I am going 
 away now." 
 
 " Hold on ! " cried the Colonel peremptorily. 
 " I beg your pardon ! Do you hear ? Shake 
 hands ! " 
 
 Hugh beamed forgiveness, and extended a 
 small brown paw, which was shaken with 
 right good will. 
 
 ' " That's right ! " said Colonel Ferrers, with 
 gruff heartiness. " Now go into the house 
 and find your great-aunt, and tell her to give 
 you some jam. Do *you like jam?" The 
 boy nodded with all the rapture of seven 
 years. " Give you some jam, and a picture- 
 book, and make up a bed in the little red 
 room. Can you remember all that ?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Saul ! " cried Hugh, dancing about 
 a little. " Nice Mr. Saul ! Shall I bring you 
 some jam ? What kind of jam shall I say ? " 
 
252 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " What kind do you like best ? " 
 
 " Damson." 
 
 " Damson it is ! Off with you now ! " 
 
 When the boy was gone, the Colonel 
 walked up and down for a few moments, 
 frowning heavily, his hands holding his stick 
 behind him. Then he said quietly, " Jack ! " 
 
 Jack came forward and stood before him, 
 looking half-proud, half -sheepish, with his 
 fiddle under his arm. 
 
 The Colonel contemplated him for a 
 moment in silence. Then, " Why in the 
 name of all that is cacophonous, didn't you 
 play me a tune at first, Instead of an infernal 
 German exercise ? Hey ? " 
 
 Jack blushed and stammered. He had 
 played for his uncle once only, a fugue by 
 Hummel, of which his mind had happened to 
 be full ; he felt that it had not been a judi- 
 cious choice. 
 
 " Can you play < The Harp of Tara ' ? " de- 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 253 
 
 inanded the Colonel ; and Jack played, with 
 exquisite feeling, the lovely old tune, the 
 Colonel listening with bent head, and mark- 
 ing the time with his stick. " Harry Mon- 
 mouth ! " he said, when it was over. "Be- 
 cause a man doesn't like to attend the violent 
 ward of a cats' lunatic asylum, it doesn't fol- 
 low that he doesn't care for music. Music, 
 sir, is melody, that's what it is ! " 
 
 Jack shuddered slightly, and did silent hom- 
 age to the shade of Wagner, but knew enough 
 to keep silence. 
 
 " And and where did you pick up this 
 child ? " his uncle continued. r( I take it back 
 about his having been put up to what he did. 
 He is true blue, that child ; I shouldn't 
 wonder if you were, too, in milksop fashion. 
 Hey?" 
 
 " Skim-milk is blue, you know, uncle," 
 said Jack, smiling. " But I didn't discover 
 Hugh. Isn't he a wonderful child, sir ? 
 
254 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 Hildegarde discovered him, of course, I be- 
 lieve Hildegarde does everything, except what 
 her mother does. Come here, Hildegarde ! 
 Come and tell Uncle Tom about your finding 
 Hugh." 
 
 But Hildegarde was gone. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 255 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A PICNIC. 
 
 "Mr dear Colonel, I congratulate you 
 most heartily ! Indeed, I had little doubt of 
 your success, for this was a case in which 
 Reynard the Fox was sure to have the worst 
 of it. But I am very curious to know how 
 you managed it." 
 
 " Nothing could be simpler, my dear 
 madam. I went to the fellow's house 
 yesterday morning. ' Mr. Loftus, your little 
 nephew is at my house. Your aunt, Mrs. 
 Beadle, has taken charge of him, according to 
 his mother's wish, and I undertook to inform 
 you of the fact.' He turned all the colours 
 of the rainbow, began to bluster, and said 
 
256 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 he was the boy's nearest relation, which is 
 very true. 'I want him to grow up a gentle- 
 man/ said he. ' Precisely,' said I. ' He 
 shall have a chance to do so, Mr. Loftus.' 
 The fellow didn't like that ; he looked black 
 and green, and spoke of the law and the 
 police. 'That reminds me,' I said, 'of a 
 story. About twenty-five years ago, or it 
 may be thirty, a sum of money was stolen 
 from my desk, in what I call my counting- 
 room in my own house. Am I taking up too 
 much of your valuable time, sir ? ' He choked 
 and tried to speak, but could only shake his 
 head. ' The thief was a mere lad,' I went on, 
 6 and a clumsy one, for he dropped his pocket- 
 knife in getting out of the window, a knife 
 marked with his name. For reasons of my 
 own I did not arrest the lad, who left town 
 immediately after ; but I have the knife, 
 Ephraim, in my possession.' I waited a 
 moment, and then said that I would send for 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 257 
 
 the little boy's trunk ; wished him good-day, 
 and came off, leaving him glowering after 
 me on the doorstep. You see, it was very 
 simple." 
 
 " I see," said Mrs. Grahame. " But is it 
 possible that Mr. Loftus " 
 
 "Very possible, my dear Mrs. Grahame. 
 As I told him, I have the knife, with his 
 name in full. One hundred dollars he stole ; 
 for Elizabeth Beadle's sake, of course I let it 
 go. Her peace of mind is worth more than 
 that, for if she's thoroughly upset, the din- 
 ners she orders are a nightmare, positively a 
 nightmare. That is actually one reason why 
 I planned this picnic for to-day, because I 
 knew I should have something with corn- 
 starch in it if I dined at home. Why corn- 
 starch should connect itself with trouble in 
 the feminine mind, I do not know; but such 
 seems to be the case." 
 
 Mrs. Grahame laughed heartily at this 
 
258 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 theory ; then, in a few earnest words, she told 
 Colonel Ferrers how deeply interested she 
 and her daughter were in this singular child, 
 and how happy they were in the sudden and 
 great change in his prospects. 
 
 "And I know you will love him," she 
 said. " You cannot help loving him, Colonel. 
 He is really a wonderful child." 
 
 " Humph ! " said the Colonel thoughtfully. 
 Then after a pause, he continued: " I thought 
 I had lost the power of loving, Mrs. Grahame; 
 of loving anything but my flowers, that is, 
 any living creature ; lost it forty years ago. 
 But somehow, of late, there has been a stir- 
 ring of the ground, a movement among the 
 old roots yes ! yes ! there may be a little 
 life yet. That child of yours you never 
 saw Hester Aytoun, Mrs. Grahame ? " 
 
 "Never," said Mrs. Grahame softly. "She 
 died the year before I came here as a child." 
 
 "Precisely," said Colonel Ferrers. "She 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 259 
 
 was a a very lovely person. Your daughter 
 is extremely like her, my dear madam." 
 
 "I fancied as much/' said Mrs. Grahame, 
 " from the miniature I found in Uncle 
 Aytoun's collection." 
 
 " Ah ! yes ! the miniature. I remember, 
 there were two. I have the mate to it, Mrs. 
 Grahame. Yes ! your daughter is very like 
 her. There was a strong attachment between 
 Hester and myself. Then came a mistake, a 
 misunderstanding, the puff of a feather, a 
 breath of wind ; I went away. She was 
 taken suddenly ill, died of a quick consump- 
 tion. That was forty years ago, but it 
 changed my life, do you see ? I have lived 
 alone. Robert Aytoun was a disappointed 
 man. Wealthy Bond, you know the old 
 story, Agatha an invalid, Barbara a rigor- 
 ous woman, strict Calvinist, and so forth. 
 We all grew old together. The neighbours call 
 me a recluse, a bear I don't know what all; 
 
260 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 right enough they have been. But now 
 well, first the lad, there, came my brother's 
 son. Duty, you know, and all the rest of it ; 
 father an unsuccessful genius, angel and 
 saint, with an asinine quality added. That 
 waked me up a little, but only made me 
 growl. But that child of yours, and your 
 own society, if you will allow me to say so 
 I see things with different eyes, in short. 
 Why, I am actually becoming fond of my 
 milksop ; a good lad, eh, Mrs. Grahame ? an 
 honest, gentlemanly lad, I think ?" 
 
 u Indeed, yes!" cried Mrs. Grahame heart- 
 ily. "A most dear and good lad, Colonel 
 Grahame ! I cannot tell you how fond Hilda 
 and I are of him." 
 
 "That's right! that's right!" said the 
 Colonel, with great heartiness. u You have 
 done it all for him, between you. Holds up 
 his head now, walks like a Christian ; and, pos- 
 itively, I found him reading ' Henry Esmond,' 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 261 
 
 the other day ; reading it of his own accord, 
 you observe. Said his cousin Hilda said Es- 
 mond was the finest gentleman she knew, and 
 wanted to know what he was like. When a 
 boy takes to ' Henry Esmond,' my dear mad- 
 am, he is headed in the right direction. 
 Asked me about Lord Herbert, too, at dinner 
 yesterday; really took an interest. Got that 
 from his cousin, too. How many girls know 
 anything about Lord Herbert ? Tell me that, 
 will you?" 
 
 " Hildegarde has always been a hero-wor- 
 shipper f " said Mrs. Grahame, smiling, with 
 the warm feeling about the heart that a 
 mother feels when her child is praised. " You 
 make me very happy, Colonel, with all these 
 kind words about my dear daughter. What 
 she is to me, of course, I cannot tell. ' The 
 very eyes of me ! ' you remember Herrick's 
 dear old song. But I think my good black 
 auntie put it best, one day last week, when 
 
262 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 Hildegarde had a bad headache, and was in 
 her room all day. ' Miss Hildy,' said auntie, 
 6 she's de salt in de soup, she is. 'Tain't no 
 good without her.' But hark ! here they 
 come back, with the water ; and now, Colonel, 
 it is time for luncheon." 
 
 The speakers were sitting under a great 
 pine tree, one of a grove which crowned the 
 top of a green hill. Below them lay broad, 
 sunny meadows, here whitening into silver 
 with daisies, there waving with the young 
 grain. In a hollow at a little distance lay a 
 tiny lake, as if a giantess had dropped her 
 mirror down among the golden fields ; further 
 off, dark stretches of woodland framed the 
 bright picture. It was a scene of perfect 
 beauty. Mrs. Grahame sat gazing over the 
 landscape, her heart filled with a great peace. 
 She listened to the young voices, which were 
 coming nearer and nearer. She was so glad 
 that she had made the effort to come. It had 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 263 
 
 been an effort, even though Colonel Ferrers' s 
 thoughtfulness had provided the most com- 
 fortable of low phaetons, drawn by the slowest 
 and steadiest of cobs, which had brought her 
 with as little discomfort as might be to the 
 top of the hill. But how well worth the 
 fatigue it was to be here ! 
 
 "And do you love me, Purple Maid?" It 
 was Hugh's clear treble that thrilled with 
 earnestness. 
 
 " I love you very much, dear lad ! What 
 would you do if I did not, Hugh ?" 
 
 " Oh ! I should weep, and weep, and be a 
 very melancholy Jaques, indeed !" 
 
 "Melancholy Jaques!" muttered Colonel 
 Ferrers. " Where on earth did he get hold 
 of that ? Extraordinary youngster ! " 
 
 " He loves the Shakespeare stories," said 
 Mrs. Grahame. " Hilda tells them to him, 
 and reads bits here and there. Oh, I assure 
 you, Colonel Ferrers, Hugh is a revelation. 
 
264 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 There never was a child like him, I do 
 believe. But, hush ! here he is ! " 
 
 The boy's bright head appeared, as he came 
 up the hill, hand in hand with Hildegarde. 
 They were laden with ferns and flowers, while 
 Jack Ferrers, a few steps behind, carried a 
 pail of fresh water. 
 
 " Aha ! " said the Colonel, rubbing his hands. 
 " Here we are, eh ? What ! you have robbed 
 the woods, Hildegarde ? Scaramouche, how 
 goes it, hey ? " 
 
 " It goes very well ! " replied Hugh soberly, 
 but with sparkling eyes. "I am going to call 
 him ' Bonny Dundee,' because his name is 
 John Grahame, you see ; and she says, per- 
 haps he may be a hero, too, some day ; that 
 would be^so nice ! " 
 
 " Come, Hugh ! " said Hildegarde, laughing 
 and blushing. " You must not tell our 
 secrets. Wait till he is a hero, and then he 
 shall have the hero's name." 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 265 
 
 " What ! " cried the Colonel. " You young 
 Jacobite, are you instilling your pernicious 
 doctrines into this child's breast ? Bonny 
 Dundee, indeed ! Marmalade is all that I 
 want to know about Dundee. Bring the ham- 
 per, Jack ! here, under this tree ! You are 
 quite comfortable here, Mrs. Grahame?" 
 
 "Extremely comfortable," said that lady. 
 " Now, you gentlemen may unpack the bas- 
 kets, while Hilda and I lay the cloth." 
 
 All hands went to work, and soon a most 
 tempting repast was set out under the great 
 pine tree. Colonel Ferrers' s contribution was 
 a triumph of Mrs. Beadle's skill, and re- 
 sembled Tennyson's immortal 
 
 "Pasty costly made, 
 
 Where quail and pigeon, lark and linnet lay, 
 With golden yolks imbedded and injellied.* 
 
 
 
 Indeed, the Colonel quoted these lines with 
 great satisfaction, as he set the great pie 
 
266 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 down in the centre of the " damask napkin, 
 wrought with horse and hound." 
 
 " That is truly magnificent ! " exclaimed 
 Mrs. Grahame. " And I can match it with 
 4 the dusky loaf that smells of home/ ' ' she 
 added, taking out of her basket a loaf of 
 graham bread and a pot of golden butter. 
 
 " Here is the smoked tongue," cried Hilde- 
 garde ; " here is raspberry jam, and almond 
 cake. Shall we starve, do you think, Colonel 
 Ferrers?" 
 
 " In case of extreme hunger, I have brought 
 a few peaches," said the Colonel ; and he 
 piled the rosy, glowing, perfect globes in a 
 pyramid at a corner of the cloth. 
 
 " Cloth of gold shall be matched with cloth 
 of frieze," said Mrs. Grahame, and in the 
 opposite corner rose a pyramid of baked pota- 
 toes, hot and hot, wafting such an inviting 
 smell through the air that the Colonel seized 
 the carving-knife at once. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 267 
 
 "Are you ready?" he demanded. "Why 
 where is Jack ? Jack, you rascal ! where 
 have you got to ? " 
 
 "Here!" cried a voice among the bushes; 
 and Jack appeared, flushed with triumph, 
 carrying a smoking coffee-pot. " This is my 
 contribution/' he said. " If it is only clear ! 
 I think it is." 
 
 Hildegarde held out a cup, and he poured 
 out a clear amber stream, whose fragrance 
 made both potatoes and peaches retire from 
 the competition. 
 
 " You really made this ? " Colonel Ferrers 
 asked. "You, sir?" 
 
 " I, sir," replied Jack. " Biddy taught me. 
 I I have been practising on you for a couple 
 of days," he added, smiling. " You may re- 
 member that your coffee was not quite clear 
 day before yesterday ? " 
 
 " Clear ! " exclaimed the Colonel, bending 
 his brows in mock anger. " I thought Lethe 
 
268 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 and Acheron had been stirred into it. So 
 that is the kind of trick Elizabeth Beadle 
 plays on me, eh ? Scaramouche ! " addressing 
 Hugh, "you must look after this great-aunt 
 of yours, do you hear ?" 
 
 "She made the pie," said Hugh diplomati- 
 cally. 
 
 "She did! she did!" cried Hildegarde, 
 holding out her cup. " Let no one breathe a 
 word against her. Fill up, fill up the festal 
 cup ! drop Friendship's sugar therein ! two 
 lumps, my mother, if you love me ! " 
 
 " Somebody should make a poem on this 
 pie," said Mrs. Grahame. " There never was 
 such a pie, I believe. Hilda, you seem in 
 poetic mood. Can you nof improvise some- 
 thing?" 
 
 Hildegarde considered for a few minutes, 
 making meanwhile intimate acquaintance with 
 the theme of song ; then, throwing back her 
 head, she exclaimed with dramatic fervour : 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 269 
 
 " I sing the pie ! 
 
 The pie sing I ! 
 And yet I do not sing it; why? 
 
 Because my mind 
 
 Is more inclined 
 To eat it than to glorify." 
 
 Anything will make people laugh at a pic- 
 nic, especially on a day when the whole 
 world is aglow with light and life and joy. 
 One jest followed another, and the walls of 
 the pie melted away to the sound of laughter, 
 as did those of Jericho at the sound of the 
 trumpet. Merlin, who had stayed behind to 
 watch a woodchuck, came up just in time to 
 consume the last fragments, which he did 
 with right good will. Then, when they had 
 eaten " a combination of Keats and sunset," 
 as Mrs. Grahame called the peaches, the 
 Colonel asked permission to light his cigar ; 
 and the soft fragrance of the Manilla mingled 
 with odours of pine and fir, while delicate 
 
270 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 blue rings floated through the air, to the 
 delight of Hugh and Merlin. 
 
 "This is the nose dinner," said the child. 
 "It is almost better than the mouth dinner, 
 isn't it ? " 
 
 "Humph !" said the Colonel, puffing medi- 
 tatively. " If you hadn't had the mouth din- 
 ner first, young man, I think we should hear 
 from you shortly. Hest a Hildegarde, 
 will you give us a song ? " 
 
 So Hildegarde sang one song and another, 
 the old songs that the Colonel loved : " Ben 
 Bolt," and "The Arethusa," and " A-hunting 
 we will go " ; and then, for her own particular 
 pleasure and her mother's, she sang an old 
 ballad, to a strange, lovely old air that she 
 had found in an Elizabethan song-book. 
 
 " When shaws been sheene, and shraddes full faire, 
 
 And leaves are large and long, 
 It is merry walking in the fair forest, 
 To hear the small birds' song. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 271 
 
 " The woodwele sang, and would not cease, 
 
 Sitting upon the spray, 
 Soe loud, he wakened Robin Hood, 
 In the greenwood where he lay.' 7 
 
 It was the ballad of Robin Hood and Guy 
 of Gisborne ; and when she sang the second 
 verse her mother's sweet alto chimed in ; and 
 when she sang the third verse, Jack began to 
 whistle a soft, sweet accompaniment, the ef- 
 fect of which was almost magical ; and when 
 she sang the fourth verse, wonder of won- 
 ders ! here was the Colonel humming a bass, 
 rather gruff, but in perfect tune. 
 
 When the ballad was over, there was 
 a chorus of surprise and congratulation. 
 " Colonel Ferrers ! why didn't you tell us 
 you sang ? " 
 
 " I say, Uncle Tom, you've been regularly 
 humbugging us. The idea of your turning 
 out a basso prof undo ! " 
 
 The Colonel looked pleased and conscious. 
 
272 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 "Saul among the prophets, eh?" he said. 
 " This little rascal calls me Saul, you know, 
 Mrs. Grahame ; caught me in a temper the 
 other day, and set Jack on me with his fiddle. 
 Ha ! hum ! Why, I used to sing a little, duets 
 and so forth, forty years ago. Always fond 
 of singing ; fond of anything that has a tune 
 to it, though I can't abide your Dutch noises. 
 Where's your fiddle, Jack ? " 
 
 Jack had not brought his fiddle ; but he 
 whistled a Scotch" reel that Colonel Ferrers 
 had not heard since before the flood, he said ; 
 and then Hildegarde sang " Young Lochin- 
 var," and so the pleasant moments went. 
 
 By and by, when the dishes were burned 
 (such a convenience are the paper dishes, 
 removing the only unpleasant feature of a 
 picnic, the washing of dishes or carrying 
 home of dirty ones), and everything neatly 
 packed away, Hugh challenged Hildegarde to 
 a race down the hill and across the long 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 273 
 
 meadow to the sunk wall beyond. Jack 
 claimed a place in the running, but the 
 Colonel insisted that he and Merlin should 
 give the others odds, as ostriches and quadru- 
 peds had an unfair advantage over ordinary 
 runners. Mrs. Grahame, after hunting in her 
 reticule, produced a prize, a rouleau of choco- 
 late ; positions were taken, and Colonel Fer- 
 rers gave the signal one, two, three, and 
 away ! Away went Hildegarde and the boy, 
 Jack holding Merlin, who was frantic with 
 impatience, and did not understand the theory 
 of handicaps. As the first pair reached the 
 bottom of the hill, the Colonel again gave 
 the signal, and the second two darted in 
 pursuit. " Away, away went Auster like an 
 arrow from the bow ! " 
 
 Hildegarde was running beautifully, her 
 head thrown back, her arms close at her 
 sides ; just behind her Hugh's bright head 
 bobbed up and down, as his little legs flew 
 
274 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 like a windmill. But Jack Ferrers really 
 merited his name of the ostrich gentleman, 
 as with head poked forward, arms flapping, 
 and legs moving without apparent concert, 
 he hurled himself down the hill at a most 
 astonishing rate of speed. The Colonel and 
 Mrs. Grahame looked on with delight, when 
 suddenly both uttered an exclamation and 
 rose to their feet. 
 
 What was it ? 
 
 From behind a clump of trees at a little 
 
 m 
 
 distance beyond Hildegarde, a large animal 
 suddenly appeared. It had apparently been 
 grazing, but now it stopped short, raised its 
 head, and gazed at the two figures which 
 came flying, all unconscious, towards it. 
 
 " John Bryan's bull ! " cried Mrs. Grahame. 
 " Oh ! Colonel Ferrers, the children ! Hilde- 
 garde ! " 
 
 " Don't be alarmed, dear madam ! " said 
 the Colonel hastily, seizing his stick. " Ke- 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 275 
 
 main where you are, I beg of you. I will 
 have John Bryan hanged to-morrow ! Mean- 
 while " and he hastened down the hill, as 
 rapidly as seventy years and a rheumatic 
 knee would permit. 
 
 But it was clear that whatever was to be 
 done must be done quickly. Hildegarde and 
 Hugh had seen the bull, and stopped. He 
 was well known as a dangerous animal, and 
 had once before escaped from his owner, a 
 neighbouring farmer. Mrs. Grahame, faint 
 with terror, saw little Hugh, with a sudden 
 movement, throw himself before Hildegarde, 
 who clasped her arms round him, and slowly 
 and quietly began to move backwards. The 
 bull uttered a bellow, and advanced, pawing 
 the ground ; at first slowly, then more and 
 more rapidly as Hildegarde increased her pace, 
 till but a short distance intervened between 
 him and the two helpless children. Colonel 
 Ferrers was still a long way off. Oh ! for 
 
276 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 help ! help ! The bull bellowed again, low- 
 ered his huge head, and rushed forward. In 
 a moment he would be upon them. Suddenly 
 what was this ? A strange object appeared, 
 directly between the bull and his helpless 
 victims. What was it ? The bull stopped 
 short, and glared at his new enemy. Two 
 long legs, like those of a man, but no body ; 
 between the legs a face, looking at him with 
 fiery eyes. Such a thing the bull had never 
 seen. What was it ? Men he knew, and 
 women, and children ; knew and hated them, 
 for they were like his master, who kept him 
 shut up, and sometimes beat him. But this 
 thing ! what was it ? The strange figure 
 advanced steadily towards him ; the bull re- 
 treated stopped bellowed retreated again, 
 shaking his head. He did not like this. 
 Suddenly the figure made a spring ! turned 
 upside down. The long legs waved threaten- 
 ingly in the air, and with an unearthly shriek 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 277 
 
 the monster came whirling forward in the 
 shape of a wheel. John Bryan's bull turned 
 and fled, as never bull fled before. Snorting 
 with terror, he went crashing through the 
 woods, that wild shriek still sounding in his 
 ears ; and he never stopped till he reached his 
 own barnyard, where John Bryan promptly 
 beat him and tied him up. 
 
 Hildegarde, pale and trembling, held out 
 her hand as Jack, assuming his normal post- 
 ure, came forward. She tried to speak, but 
 found no voice, and could only press his hand 
 and look her gratitude. 
 
 Colonel Ferrers, much out of breath, came 
 up, and gave the lad's hand a shake that 
 might almost have loosened his arm in the 
 socket. u Well done, lad! " he cried. " You 
 are of the right stuff, after all, and 
 you'll hear no more 6 milksop ' from me. 
 Where did you learn that trick? Harry 
 Monmouth ! the beast was frightened out of 
 his boots ! Where did you learn it, boy ? " 
 
278 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " An Englishman showed it to me," said 
 Jack modestly. " It's nothing to do, but it 
 always scares them. How are you now, Hil- 
 degarde ? Sit down, and let me bring you 
 some water ! " 
 
 But Hugh Allen clasped the long legs of 
 his deliverer, and cried joyously, " I knew 
 he was a David ! he is a double David now, 
 isn't he, Beloved ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Hildegarde, smiling again, as 
 she turned to hasten up the hill to her 
 mother, " but / shall call him ' Bonny Dun- 
 dee,' for he has won the hero's name." 
 
 " It was the ostrich that won the day, 
 though," said Jack, looking at his legs. 
 
OVKH THK JAM POTS. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 281 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 OYER THE JAM-POTS. 
 
 ONE bright September morning Hildegarde 
 was sitting in the dining-room, covering jam- 
 pots. She had made the jam herself peach 
 marmalade it was, the best in the world, all 
 golden-brown, like clear old amber a day 
 or two before, and now it was firm enough to 
 cover. At her right hand was a pile of 
 covers, thick white paper cut neatly in rounds, 
 a saucer full of white of egg, another full of 
 brandy, an inkstand and pen. At her left was 
 an open book, and a large rosy apple. She 
 worked away busily with deft fingers, only 
 stopping now and then for a moment to nib- 
 ble her apple. First a small cover wet in 
 
282 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 brandy, fitting neatly inside the jar ; then a 
 large cover brushed over with white of egg, 
 which, when dry, would make the paper stiff, 
 and at the same time fasten it securely 
 round the jar. And all the time she was 
 murmuring to herself, with an occasional 
 glance at the volume beside her, 
 
 " * Sabrina fair, listen where thou art sitting, 
 Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, 
 In twisted braids of lilies knitting 
 
 The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair. 
 Listen for dear honour's sake, 
 Goddess of the silver lake, 
 
 Listen and save ! 
 Listen and appear to us, 
 In name of great Oceanus.'" 
 
 Here she stopped to write on several jars 
 the paper on which was dry and hard ; a bite 
 at her apple, and she continued, 
 
 " * By the earth-shaking Neptune's crook ' " 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 283 
 
 "No," glancing at the book. " Why do T 
 always get that wrong ? 
 
 " ' By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace, 
 And Tethys' grave majestic pace ; 
 By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look, 
 And the Carpathian ' " 
 
 At this moment a shadow fell on the table, 
 as of some one passing by the window, and 
 the next moment Jack entered. 
 
 " What are you doing? " he asked, after the 
 morning greetings, sitting down and scowling 
 at the unoffending jam-pots. " Can't you 
 come out in the garden ? It's no end of a 
 day, you know ! " 
 
 "No end?" said Hildegarde. "Then I 
 shall have plenty of time, and I must finish 
 my jam-pots in any case, and my poetry." 
 
 " Poetry ? are you making it ? " 
 
 "Only learning it. I like to learn bits 
 when I am doing things of this sort. 
 
284 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " ' By Leucothea's lovely hands, 
 
 And her son that rules the strands' 
 
 " Wait just a moment, Jack. I think I 
 know it all now. 
 
 " ' By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet, 
 And the songs of Sirens sweet ; 
 
 Isn't that lovely, Jack ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes," answered Jack absently. "What 
 have you been doing here, Hilda ? " He was 
 studying the jars that were already marked, 
 and now read aloud, 
 
 "' William the Conqueror, his Jam, 1066.' 
 
 tff Peach Marmalade. 
 Put up by Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, 
 For his own use. 7 
 
 " What an extraordinary girl you are, Hil- 
 degarde ! " 
 
 " Not at all extraordinary ! " cried Hilde- 
 garde, laughing and blushing. " Why 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 285 
 
 shouldn't I amuse myself ? It hurts no one, 
 and it amuses me very much." 
 Jack laughed, and went on, 
 
 " ' Marmaladus Crabappulis. 
 C. J. Caesar fecit. 
 Jam satis/ 
 
 "< Crab-apple Jelly. 
 Macbeth, Banquo & Co., Limited.' 
 
 "' Peach Marmalade. 
 
 Made by 
 Johii Grahame, Viscount Dundee. Gold Medal.' 
 
 'This ought to be mine." 
 
 " It shall be yours, greedy viscount. Get 
 a spoon and eat it at once, if you like." 
 
 " Thank you so much. I would rather 
 take it home, if I may. I say, what is that 
 brown stun out on the porch, with mosquito 
 netting over it ? Nothing very valuable, I 
 hope?" 
 
 " Oh, Jack ! " cried Hildegarde, springing 
 
286 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 up, " my peach leather ! What have you 
 did you fall into it ? Oh, and I thought you 
 were improving so much ! I must go " 
 
 "No, don't go," said her cousin. "I I 
 only knocked down one plate. And Merlin 
 was with me, you know, and I don't believe 
 you would find any left. I am very sorry, 
 Hilda. Can I make some more for you ? " 
 
 " I think not, my cousin. But no matter, 
 if it is only one plate, for there are a good 
 many, as you saw. Only, do be careful when 
 you go home, that's a good boy." 
 
 " What is it, anyhow ? " 
 
 "Why you cook it with brown sugar, 
 you know." 
 
 " Cook what ? Leather ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear ! the masculine mind is so 
 obtuse peaches, sacred bird of Juno ! " 
 
 "The eagle?" 
 
 " The goose. You really must study my- 
 thology, Jack. You cook the peaches with 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 287 
 
 brown sugar, and then you rub them through 
 a sieve, it's a horrid piece of work ! and 
 then spread them on plates, just as you saw 
 them, and cover them to keep the flies off." 
 
 "And leave long ends trailing to trip up your 
 visitors." 
 
 "One doesn't expect giraffes to make 
 morning calls. So after a few days it hard- 
 ens, if it has the luck to be left alone, and 
 then you roll it up." 
 
 " Plates and all ? " 
 
 " Of course ! and sprinkle sugar over it, and 
 it is really delicious. I might have given you 
 that plate you knocked over, but now " 
 
 " It was the smallest, I remember." 
 
 "And, Jack, I made it all myself. No one 
 else touched it. And all this marmalade, and 
 three dozen pots of currant jelly, and four 
 dozen of crab-apple." 
 
 " Sacred bird of Juno ! " ejaculated her 
 cousin. 
 
288 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " Do you dare call me a goose, sir ? " 
 
 " She drove peacocks, didn't she ? I do 
 know a little mythology. 
 
 " But, Hildegarde, be serious now, will 
 you ? I'm in a peck of trouble, as Biddy says. 
 I want consolation, or advice, or something." 
 
 " Sit down, and tell me," said Hildegarde, 
 full of interest at once. 
 
 Jack sat down and drummed on the table, 
 a thing that Hildegarde had never been 
 allowed to do. 
 
 " I got a letter from Daddy, yesterday," he 
 said, after a pause. " Herr Geigen is going to 
 Germany now, in a week, and Daddy says I 
 may go if Uncle Tom is willing." 
 
 "And he isn't willing ? " Hilda said. Oh ! " 
 
 Jack got up and moved restlessly about the 
 room, laying waste the chairs as he went. 
 " Willing ? He only roars, and says, ' Stuff 
 and nonsense ! ' which is no answer, you know, 
 Hilda. If he would just say 4 No,' quietly, 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 289 
 
 I well, of course you can make up your 
 mind to stand a thing, and stand it. But he 
 won't listen to me for five minutes. If he 
 could realise one can get as good an educa- 
 tion at Leipsic as at Harvard. But his idea 
 of Germany is a country inhabited by a crazy 
 emperor and a ' parcel of Dutch fiddlers/ and 
 by no one else. I shall have to give it up, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " cried Hildegarde hopefully. 
 " Don't give it up yet. You know when 
 mamma spoke to him, he didn't absolutely 
 say ' No.' He said he would think about it. 
 Perhaps she might ask him if he had 
 thought about it. Wait a day or two, at any 
 rate, Jack, before you write to your father. 
 Can you wait ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! but it won't make any differ- 
 ence. I suppose it's good for me. You say 
 all trouble is googl in the end. Have you 
 ever had any trouble, I wonder, Hilda?" 
 
 " My father ! " said Hildegarde, colouring. 
 
290 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " Forgive me ! " cried her cousin. " I am 
 a brute ! an idiotic brute ! What shall I do ? " 
 he said in desperation, seeing the tears in the 
 girl's clear eyes. " It would do no good if 1 
 went and shot myself, or I would in a minute. 
 You will forgive me, Hilda ? " 
 
 " My dear, there is nothing to forgive ! " 
 said Hildegarde, smiling kindly at him. 
 " Nothing at all. I shouldn't have minded 
 but it is his birthday to-morrow/' and 
 the tears overflowed this time, while Jack stood 
 looking at her in silent remorse, mentally 
 heaping the most frantic abuse upon himself. 
 
 The tears were soon dried, however, and 
 Hildegarde was her cheerful self again. " You 
 must go now," she said, " for I have all these 
 jam-pots to put away, and it is nearly dinner- 
 time. See ! this jar of peach marmalade is 
 for Hugh, because he is fond of it. Of course 
 Mrs. Beadle can make it # great deal better, 
 but he will like this because his Purple Maid 
 made it. Isn't he a darling, Jack ? " 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 291 
 
 " Yes, he's a little brick, certainly. Uncle 
 Tom calls him the Phoenix, and is more de- 
 lighted with him every day. Now there s a 
 boy who ought to go to Harvard." 
 
 " He will," said Hildegarde, nodding 
 sagely. " Good-by, Jack dear ! " 
 
 " It is very early. I don't see why I have 
 to go so soon ! Can't I help you to put away 
 the jam-pots ? " 
 
 " You can go home, my dear boy. Good- 
 by ! I sha'nt forget " 
 
 " Oh, good-by ! " and Jack flung off in half a 
 huff, as auntie would have said. 
 
 Hildegarde looked after him thoughtfully. 
 66 How young he is ! " she said to herself. " I 
 wonder if boys always are. And yet he is 
 two years older than I by the clock, if you 
 understand what I mean ! " She addressed 
 the jam-pots, in grave confidence, and began 
 to put them away in their own particular cup- 
 board. 
 
292 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AT THE BROWN COTTAGE. 
 
 HILDEGARDE'S mind was still full of her 
 cousin and his future, as she sat that after- 
 noon in Mrs. Lankton's kitchen, with her 
 sewing-school around her. The brown cot- 
 tage with the green door had been found the 
 most central and convenient place for the lit- 
 tle class, and it was an object of absorbing 
 interest to Mrs. Lankton herself. She hov- 
 ered about Hildegarde and her scholars, pre- 
 dicting disease and death for one and another, 
 with ghoulish joy. 
 
 " Your ma hadn't ought to let you come 
 out to-day, Marthy Skeat. You warn't never 
 rugged from the time you was a baby; 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 293 
 
 teethin' like to have carried you off, and 
 'tain't too late now. There's wisdom teeth, 
 ye know. Well, it's none o' my business, but 
 I hope your ma's prepared. Good-mornin' , 
 Miss Grahame ! I'm tellin' Marthy Skeat she 
 ain't very likely to see long skirts, comin' out 
 in this damp air. You're peart, are ye ? That's 
 right ! Ah ! they can look peart as ain't had 
 no troubles yet. I was jist like you oncet, 
 Miss Grahame. I've had a sight o' trouble ! 
 no one don't know what I've ben through ; 
 don't know nothin' about it. You've fleshed 
 up some since ye came here, ain't ye ? Well, 
 they do flesh up that way sometimes, but 
 'tain't no good sign. There's measles about, 
 too, they say." 
 
 " How bright and pretty your plants are, 
 Mrs. Lankton ! " said Hilda, trying to make 
 a diversion. " No, Jack ! I mean Jenny ! 
 you will have to take that out again. See 
 those long stitches! They look as if they 
 
294 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 were all running after each other, don't 
 they? Take them out, dear, and make me 
 some nice, neat little stitches, stepping along 
 quietly, as you do when you have on those 
 new shoes you were telling me about. Lizzie. 
 I wonder what turns your thread so dark ? 
 See how white my seam is ! What do you 
 suppose is the matter with yours ? " 
 
 Lizzie giggled and hung her head. " For- 
 got to wash my hands ! " she muttered. 
 
 " That was a pity ! " said Hildegarde. 
 "It spoils the looks of it, you see. I am 
 sure Mrs. Lankton will let you wash your 
 hands in that bright tin basin. Vesta 
 Philbrook, where is your violin ? " 
 
 " Ma'am ? " said Vesta Philbrook, opening 
 her mouth as wide as her eyes. 
 
 " Your thimble I mean, of course ! " said 
 Hildegarde, blushing violently, and giving 
 herself a mental shake. "Now go to work, 
 like a good girl. Mary, here is the patch- 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 295 
 
 work I promised you, already basted. See, 
 a pink square, a blue square, a white one, and 
 a yellow one. They are all pieces of my 
 dresses, the dresses I wore last summer ; and 
 I thought you would like to have them for 
 your quilt." 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! " cried the child, delighted. 
 "Oh, ain't them pretty?" 
 
 "Handsome!" said Mrs. Lankton, peering 
 over the child's shoulder. " Them is hand- 
 some. Ah ! I pieced a quilt once, with nine 
 hundred and ninety-nine pieces into it. Good 
 goods they was ; I had good things then ; real 
 handsome calico, just like them. Ah, I didn't 
 know what trouble was when I was your age, 
 children. Wait till you've had lumbago, an' 
 neurology, an' cricks in your necks so's't you 
 can't stand straight, not for weeks together 
 you can't, and your roof leaking an' dreepin' 
 all over yer bed, an' " 
 
 % 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Lankton!" exclaimed Hilde- 
 
296 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 garde. " Surely the roof is not leaking again, 
 when it was all shingled this summer ! " 
 
 " Not yet it ain't, dear ! " sighed the widow. 
 " But I'm prepared for it, and I don't expect 
 nothin' else, after what I've been through. 
 I was fleshy myself, once, though no one 
 wouldn't think it to look at me." 
 
 " I wonder, Mrs. Lankton," began Hilde- 
 garde gently. 
 
 " You may wonder, dear ! " was the reply. 
 " Folks do wonder when they think what I've 
 bean through. Fleshy was no name for it. 
 There ! I was fairly corpilent when I was 
 your age." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Hildegarde, in some confusion. 
 "I meant I am very thirsty, Mrs. Lankton, 
 and if you could give me a glass of your 
 delicious water " 
 
 " Suttingly ! " exclaimed the widow with 
 alacrity. " Suttingly, Miss Grahame ! I'll 
 go right out and pump ye some. It is good 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 297 
 
 water/' she admitted, with reluctant pride. 
 " I've been expectin' it would dry up, right 
 along, lately ! " and she hastened out into the 
 yard. 
 
 " Now, children," said Hildegarde hastily, 
 " I will go on with the story I began last time. 
 6 So Robert Bruce was crowned king of Scot- 
 land ; and no sooner was he king than ' 
 
 By the time Mrs. Lankton returned with 
 the water, every child was listening spell- 
 bound to the wonderful tale of Bruce at the 
 ford, and no one had an eye or an ear for 
 the doleful widow, save Hildegarde, whose 
 " Thank you ! " and quick glance of gratitude 
 lightened for a moment the gloom of her 
 hostess's countenance. 
 
 So deep were teacher and pupils in Bruce 
 and patchwork that none of them heard the 
 sound of wheels, or the sudden cessation of 
 it outside the door, till Mrs. Lankton ex- 
 claimed with tragic unction : "It is Colonel 
 
298 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 Ferrers ! driving hisself, and his boss all of a 
 sweat. I hope he ain't the bearer of bad 
 news, but I should be prepared, if I was you, 
 Miss Grahame. Poor child ! what would you 
 do if your ma was took ? " Hildegarde has- 
 tened to the door, but was instantly reassured 
 by the old gentleman's cheery smile. 
 
 " Why did you move ? " he said. " I stopped 
 on purpose to have a look at you, with your 
 flock of doves around you. Hilda and the 
 doves, hey ? you remember ? ' Marble Faun ! ' 
 yes, yes ! But since you have moved, shall I 
 drive you home, Miss Industry?" 
 
 Hildegarde glanced at the clock. " Our 
 time is over," she said to the children. u Yes, 
 Colonel Ferrers, thank you ! I should enjoy 
 the drive very much indeed. Can you wait 
 perhaps five minutes ?" 
 
 The Colonel could and would ; and Hilde- 
 garde returned to see that all work was neatly 
 folded and put away. 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 299 
 
 " And, Annie, here is the receipt I promised 
 you. Be sure to mix the meal thoroughly, and 
 have a good hot oven, and you will find them 
 very nice indeed, and your mother will be so 
 pleased at your making them yourself! " 
 
 "Vesta, did you try the honey candy?" 
 
 " Yes, 'm ! 'twas dretful good. My little 
 brother, he like t'ha' died, he eat so much." 
 
 " Dear me ! " exclaimed Hilda, rather alarmed 
 at this result of her neat little plan of teach- 
 ing the children something about cookery, 
 without their finding out that they were 
 being taught. 
 
 " But you must see to it, Vesta, that he 
 doesn't eat too much. That is one of the 
 things an elder sister is for, you know. 
 
 " Now, whose turn is it to sweep up the 
 threads and scraps ? Yours, Euleta ? Well, 
 see how careful you can be ! not a thread 
 must be left on Mrs. Lankton's clean floor, 
 vou know." 
 
300 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 Soon all was in order, workbags put away, 
 hats and bonnets tied on ; and Hildegarde 
 came out with her doves about her, all look- 
 ing as if they had had a thoroughly good 
 time. With many affectionate farewells to 
 " Teacher," the children scattered in different 
 directions, and Colonel Ferrers chirruped to 
 the brown cob, which trotted briskly away 
 over the smooth road. The Colonel was 
 deeply interested in the sewing-school. Hes- 
 ter Aytoun had had one for the village chil- 
 dren, and there had been none from her death 
 until .now. He asked many questions, which 
 Hildegarde answered with right good will. 
 They were dear children, she said. She was 
 getting to know them very well, for she tried 
 to see them in their homes once a fortnight, 
 and found they liked to have her come, and 
 looked forward to it. Some of them were 
 very bright ; not all, of course, but they all 
 tried, and that was the great thing. Yes, 
 
"HE GAVE ME A LUNGE IN QUART. 1 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 303 
 
 she told them all the stories they wanted, 
 and they wanted a great many. 
 
 " Speaking of stories," said the Colonel, " I 
 find I have work laid out for the rest of my 
 life." 
 
 "Hugh?" said Hildegarde, smiling. 
 
 " Most astonishing child I ever saw in my 
 life ! " the Colonel cried. " Most amazing 
 child ! to see how he flings himself on books 
 is a wonder. I don't let him keep at 'em 
 long, you understand. A brain like that 
 needs play, sir, play ! I've bought him a 
 little foil, and Harry Monmouth ! he gave 
 me a lunge in quart that almost broke my 
 guard, last night. But stories ! ' More about 
 kings, please, Sire ! ' he's got a notion of call- 
 ing me Sire ho ! ho ! can't get Saul out of 
 his head, d'ye see ? I feel like Charlemagne, 
 or Barbarossa, or some of 'em. 'More about 
 kings when they were in battle.' He's learned 
 6 Agincourt ' by heart, just from my reading 
 
304 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 it to him. ' Fair stood the wind for France,' 
 hey? Finest ballad in the English language. 
 Says you read it to him, too. And if I 
 am busy he goes to Elizabeth Beadle and 
 frightens her out of her wits with sentences 
 out of the Lamentations of Jeremiah. Now 
 this boy mark me, Hildegarde! will turn 
 out something very uncommon, if he has the 
 right training. That scoundrelly knave, 
 Ephraim Loftus, wanted to make a gentle- 
 man of him ! Ho ! Ephraim doesn't know 
 how a gentleman's shoes look, unless he has 
 been made acquainted with the soles of them. 
 I kicked him myself once, I remember, for 
 beating a horse unmercifully. This boy will 
 be a great scholar, mark my words ! And 
 whatever assistance I can give him shall be 
 cheerfully given. Why, the lad has genius ! 
 positive genius ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " said Hildegarde, her heart beating- 
 fast. " Then you think, Colonel Ferrers, that 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 805 
 
 a a person should be educated for what 
 seems to be his natural bent. Do you think 
 that?" 
 
 " Harry Monmouth ! of course I do ! Look 
 at me ! D'ye think I was fitted for a mercan- 
 tile life, for example ? Never got algebra 
 through my head, and hate figures. The 
 army was what I was born for ! Born for it, 
 sir ! Shouldered my pap-spoon in the cradle, 
 and presented arms whenever I was taken up. 
 Ho ! ho ! ho ! " 
 
 Hildegarde began to tremble, but her cour- 
 age did not fail. "And and Jack, dear 
 Colonel Ferrers," she said softly. " He was 
 born for music, was he not ? " 
 
 The Colonel turned square round, and 
 gazed at her from under brows that met over 
 his hooked nose. " What then?" he said 
 slowly, after a pause. "If my nephew was 
 born for a fiddler, what then, Miss Hildegarde 
 Grahame ? Is it any reason why he should 
 
306 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 not be trained for something better ? I like 
 the boy's playing very well, very well indeed, 
 when he keeps clear of Dutch discords. But 
 you would not compare playing the fiddle 
 with the glorious Art of War, I imagine ? " 
 
 " Not for an instant ! " cried Hildegarde, 
 flushing deeply under the Colonel's half-stern, 
 half -quizzical gaze. " Compare music, lovely 
 music, that cheers and comforts and delights 
 all the world, with fierce, cruel, dreadful war ? 
 Look at Jack, with his mind full of beautiful 
 harmonies and and i airs from heaven ' 
 they really are ! making us laugh or cry, 
 or dance or exult, just by the motion of his 
 hand. Look at him, and then imagine him 
 in a red coat, with a gun in his hand - 
 
 " Red is the British colour," said the Colo- 
 nel. 
 
 " Well, a blue coat, then. What difference 
 does it make ? a gun in his hand, shooting 
 people who never did him any harm, whose 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 307 
 
 faces he had never even seen. Oh, Colonel 
 Ferrers, I would not have believed it of you ! " 
 
 " And who asked you to believe it of me, 
 pray ? " asked the Colonel, as he drove up to 
 the door of Braeside. " To tell the truth, 
 young lady, war is very much more in your 
 line than in my nephew's. Harry Monmouth ! 
 Bellona in person, I verily believe. My com- 
 pliments to your mother, and say I shall call 
 her Madam Althaea in future, for she has 
 brought forth a firebrand." 
 
 Instantly Hildegarde's ruffled plumes 
 drooped, smoothed themselves down; instead 
 of the flashing gaze of the eagle, a dove-like 
 look now met the quizzical gaze of the old 
 gentleman. " Dear Colonel Ferrers ! " this 
 hypocritical girl murmured, as, standing on 
 the verandah steps, she laid her hand gently 
 on his arm. " Thank you so very much for 
 driving me home. You are always so kind 
 to me ! And and I want to ask one 
 
308 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 question. Can you tell me the first lines of 
 Drfden's < Song for St. Cecilia's Day' ?" 
 " Of course ! " said the simple Colonel. 
 
 " ' From harmony, from heavenly harmony, 
 This universal frame began.' 
 
 Why do you oh ! you youthful Circe ! 
 you infant Medea, you "he shook his 
 whip threateningly. 
 
 " Good-by, dear Colonel Ferrers ! " cried 
 Hildegarde. " I am so glad you remembered 
 the lines. Aren't they beautiful ? Good-by ! " 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 309 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 GOOD-BY ! 
 
 " I HAVE come to say good-by ! " cried 
 Jack Ferrers, rushing up the steps, as Hilde- 
 garde was sitting on the piazza, with Hugh 
 curled up at her feet. "Uncle Tom will 
 come for me with the wagon. Oh, Hilda, it 
 doesn't seem possible, does it ? It is too good 
 to be true ! and it is all your doing, every 
 bit. I sha'n't forget it. I say ! I wish you 
 were coming too ! " 
 
 " Oh, no, you don't ! " said Hildegarde, 
 speaking lightly, though her cheeks were 
 flushed and her eyes bright with real feeling. 
 " You would send me back by express, labelled 
 6 troublesome baggage/ 
 
310 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 " Dear old Jack ! . You know how glad I 
 am, without my saying it. But, oh ! how we 
 shall miss you ! Your uncle " 
 
 " Oh ! Hugh will take care of Uncle Tom, 
 won't you, Hugh ? Hugh suits him down to 
 the ground I beg pardon, I mean through 
 and through, and they will have fine times 
 together." 
 
 "I will try!" said the child. "But we 
 shall be like a pelican in the wilderness, I am 
 afraid." 
 
 "You go straight home now?" Hildegarde 
 asked. 
 
 " Straight home ! five days with Daddy 
 bless him ! and then he goes to New York 
 with me, and sees me off. Oh ! see here ! " 
 he began fumbling in his pockets. " I have 
 a keepsake for you. I of course you know 
 I haven't any money, Hilda, or I would have 
 . bought you something ; but Uncle Tom gave 
 it to me on purpose to give to you ; so it's 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 311 
 
 partly from him, too. Here it is ! It be- 
 longed to our great-grandmother, he says." 
 
 Such a lovely ring ! A star of yellow dia- 
 monds set on a hoop of gold. Hildegarde 
 flushed with delight. " Oh, Jack ! how kind 
 of him ! how dear of you ! Oh ! what an 
 exquisite thing ! I shall wear it always." 
 
 " And I say ! how well it looks on your 
 hand! I never noticed before what pretty 
 hands you have, Hilda. You are the pretti- 
 est girl I ever saw, altogether." 
 
 "And Rose?" asked Hildegarde, smiling. 
 
 Jack blushed furiously. He had fallen 
 deeply in love with Rose's photograph, and 
 had been in the habit of gazing at it for ten 
 or fifteen minutes every day for the past fort- 
 night, ever since it arrived. " That's differ- 
 ent ! " he said. " She is an angel, if the pict- 
 ure is like her." 
 
 "It isn't half lovely enough!" cried loyal 
 Hildegarde. "Not half! You don't see the 
 
312 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 blue of her eyes, or her complexion, just like 
 ' a warm white rose.' Oh ! you would love 
 her, Jack ! " 
 
 "I I rather think I do ! " Jack confessed. 
 "You might let me have the photograph, 
 Hildegarde." 
 
 But this Hildegarde wholly refused to do. 
 "I have something much more useful for 
 you! " she said; and, running into the house, 
 she brought out a handkerchief-case of linen, 
 daintily embroidered, containing a dozen fine 
 hemstitched handkerchiefs. "I hemstitched 
 them myself," she said; "the peacock still 
 spreads its tail, you observe. And see ! 
 on one side of the case are forget-me-nots 
 that is my flower, you know; and on the 
 other are roses. I take credit for putting the 
 roses on top." 
 
 " Dear Hilda ! " cried her cousin, giving her 
 hand a hearty shake. " What a good fel 
 what a jolly girl you are ! You ought/' he 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 313 
 
 added shyly, " to marry the best man in the 
 world, and I hope you will." 
 
 " I mean to," said Hildegarde, laughing, 
 with a happy light in her eyes. 
 
 Hildegarde had never seen her " fairy 
 prince, with joyful eyes, and lighter-footed 
 than the fox"; but she knew he would come 
 in good time. She knew, too, very much 
 what he was like, a combination of Amyas 
 Leigh, Sir Richard Grenville, Dundee, and 
 Montrose, with a dash of the Cid, and a 
 strong flavour of Bayard, the constancy of 
 William the Silent, the kindness of Scott, 
 and the eyes of Edwin Booth. Some day he 
 would come, and find his maiden waiting for 
 him. Meantime, it was so very delightful 
 to have Jack fall in love with Rose. If 
 she thought, and on that "if" rose many a 
 Spanish castle, fair and lofty, with glittering 
 pinnacle and turret. But she had not the 
 heart to tell Jack of the joyful news she had 
 
314 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 just received, dared not tell him of the letter 
 in her pocket which said that this dearest 
 Rose was coming soon, perhaps this very 
 week, to make her a long, long visit. If she 
 could only have come earlier ! 
 
 But now Jack was taking his violin out of 
 his box. "Where is your mother?" he said. 
 " This is my own, this present for you both. 
 It is < Farewell to Braeside ! ' 
 
 Hildegarde flew to call her mother, and 
 met her just coming downstairs. " Jack has 
 composed a farewell for us," she cried. " All 
 for us, mamma ! Come ! " 
 
 Farewell ! the words seemed to breathe 
 through the lovely melody,' as the lad played 
 softly, sweetly, a touch of sadness underlying 
 the whole. " Farewell ! farewell ! parting is 
 pain, is pain, but Love heals the wound with a 
 touch. Love flies over land and sea, bringing 
 peace, peace, and good tidings and joy." Then 
 the theme changed, and a strain of triumph, 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 315 
 
 of exultation, made the air thrill with happi- 
 ness, with proud delight. The girl and her 
 mother exchanged glances. " This is his 
 work, his life ! " said their eyes. And the 
 song soared high and higher, till one fine, 
 exquisite note melted like a skylark into the 
 blue ; then sinking gently, gently, it flowed 
 again into the notes of the farewell, 
 
 " Parting is pain, is pain, but Love is im- 
 mortal." 
 
 Both women were in tears when the song 
 died away, and Jack's own eyes were sus- 
 piciously bright. 
 
 " My dear boy," said Mrs. Grahame, wiping 
 her eyes, " I do believe you are going to a 
 life of joy and of well-earned triumph. I 
 do heartily believe it." 
 
 "It is all Hilda's doings," said Jack, "and 
 yours. All Hilda's and yours, Aunt Mildred. 
 I shall not forget." 
 
 Here Hugh, who had been listening spell- 
 
316 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 bound, asked suddenly, " What was the name 
 of the boat which the gentleman who begins 
 with made to go swiftly over the sea when 
 he played with his hand ? " 
 
 " The Argo, dear," said Hildegarde. 
 
 "It is that boat he should go in," nodding 
 to Jack. " It would leap like an unicorn, 
 wouldn't it, if he played those beautiful 
 things which he just played ? " 
 
 And now Colonel Ferrers drove up to the 
 door, with the brown cob and the yellow 
 wagon. The last words were said ; the 
 precious violin was carefully stowed under 
 the seat. Jack kissed Mrs. Grahame warmly, 
 and exchanged with Hildegarde a long, silent 
 pressure of the hand, in which there was a 
 whole world of kindness and affection and 
 comradeship. Boys and girls can be such 
 good friends, if they only know how ! 
 
 "Boot and saddle ! " cried the Colonel. 
 
 "Good-by!" cried the lad, springing into 
 
HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 317 
 
 the wagon. " Good-by ! Don't forget the 
 ostrich gentleman ! " 
 
 " Good-by, dear Jack ! " 
 
 " God bless you, my dear lad ! Good-by ! " 
 and the wheels went crashing over the gravel. 
 
 At the end of the driveway the Colonel 
 checked his horse for a moment before turn- 
 ing into the main road. " Look back,- boy," 
 he said. 
 
 Jack looked, and saw Hildegarde and her 
 mother standing on the verandah with arms 
 entwined, gazing after them with loving looks. 
 The girl's white-clad figure and shining locks 
 were set in a frame of hanging vines and 
 creepers ; her face was bright with love and 
 cheer. The slender mother, in her black 
 dress, seemed to droop and lean towards her ; 
 on the other side the child clasped her hand 
 with fervent love and devotion. 
 
 "My boy," said Colonel Ferrers, "take 
 that picture with you wherever you go. You 
 
318 HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 
 
 will see many places and many people, good 
 and bad, comely and ill-favoured ; but you 
 will see no sight so good as that of a young 
 woman, lovely and beloved, shining in the 
 doorway of the home she makes bright." 
 
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