^/^vf ^/TJ*? 
 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Mary Randall 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 x^fer ^kf^M ^ :*&% -4 : U- ^,.,^ 
 
BY LUCY ELLEN GUERNSEY. 
 
 HISTORICAL TALES. 
 
 THROUGH UNKNOWN WAYS; or, The Journal- 
 Books of Mrs. Dorathea Studley Si-s^ 
 
 LOVEDAY S HISTORY. A Story of Many Changes. 
 
 i2mo. Cloth, ...... $1.50 
 
 THE FOSTER-SISTERS; or, Lucy Corbet s 
 
 Chronicle. mo. Cloth, . 1.50 
 
 WINIFRED; or, After Many Days. "mo. Cloth, . 1.25 
 LADY BETTY S GOVERNESS; or, The Corbet 
 Chronicles, "mo. Cloth, . . 1.25 
 
 LADY ROSAMOND S BOOK. Being a second part of 
 the Stanton-Corbet Chronicles. 12010. Cloth, . . 1.25 
 
 THE CHEVALIER S DAUGHTER. Being one of the 
 
 Stanton-Corbet Chronicles, ismo. Cloth, 
 
 1.50 
 
 OTHER STORY BOOKS. 
 
 OLDHAM; or, Beside all Waters, "mo. cloth, . i. 50 
 MILLY; or, The Hidden Cross, "mo. Cloth, . i. 00 
 
 CHRISTMAS AT CEDAR HILL. A Holiday Story- 
 
 Book. i6mo. Cloth, . . . . . i oo 
 
 THE CHILD S TREASURE OF STORIES. i6mo. 
 
 Cloth, ........ .90 
 
 THE SCHOOL-GIRL S TREASURY; or, Stories 
 for Thoughtful Girls. i6mo. Cloth, . . .90 
 
 *** Copies mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price. 
 
 2 and 3 Bible House, New York. 
 
THROUGH UNKNOWN WAYS 
 
 OR 
 
 THE JOURNAL-BOOKS OF 
 
 MRS. DORATHEA STUDLEY 
 
 LUCY ELLEN (GUERNSEY 
 
 AUTHOR OF "LADY BETTY S GOVERNESS," " OLDIIAM, 
 "THE FOSTER-SISTERS," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THOMAS W H I T T A K E R 
 
 2 AND 3 BIBLE HOUSE 
 
 1888 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1886, 
 BY THOMAS WHITTAKER. 
 

 
 TO HER 
 
 BIBLE-CLASS AT ST. LUKE S CHURCH, ROCHESTER, 
 2Tfjte Book 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE FIRST BOOK 7 
 
 THE SECOND BOOK 99 
 
 THE THIRD BOOK . . 261 
 
THE FIEST BOOK. 
 
MRS. STUDLEY S DIARY. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 December 10, 1684. 
 
 I may as well begin this book 
 by telling how I came to write it at all. 
 Lady Corbet, my mistress (I suppose I 
 ought to say mine honored mistress, but I sha n t: 
 I am going to have the comfort of speaking my 
 mind in these pages, if nowhere else). But to be 
 gin again, in a more orderly fashion. Lady Corbet, 
 with whom I am living as waiting-gentlewoman, 
 companion, and general butt for ill-humors, 
 there I go again, well, Lady Corbet took it in 
 her head to give me the use of this cabinet. She 
 was making a tour of inspection of the whole 
 house to which we have just removed, and had 
 been put into a better humor than was usual with 
 her so early in the day by finding in this very 
 cabinet a purse with three gold pieces and some 
 silver, left here I suppose by Sir Charles s first 
 wife, poor, pretty Lady Jemima, whose portrait 
 by Lely hangs in the great parlor. My lady 
 
 9 
 
10 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 clutched the purse as a dog snaps at a bone, and 
 dropped it into her pocket. Then she took up a 
 knot or favor of rose-colored ribbon spangled with 
 silver which lay beside it, still fresh and pretty, 
 and smelling of roses like every thing else in the 
 cabinet. 
 
 " See there, child ! " said she, turning to me. 
 " The poor bedizened thing had to leave all her 
 finery and fallals behind her when she went to the 
 grave. There is a lesson for you." 
 
 " And her money also, madam," said Mrs. 
 Williams, her woman, who had followed us with 
 a light cloak which she laid about Lady Corbet s 
 shoulders. Mrs. Williams is not afraid of my 
 lady, as I am ; but then, she can leave when she 
 pleases. 
 
 " What do yo you mean, Williams ? " asked my 
 lady. " Of course I know that. We must leave 
 every thing behind us when we die. You have 
 heard me say that a thousand times." 
 
 "Not quite every thing," said Mrs. Williams. 
 " I think, my lady, this would be a good room for 
 Mrs. Dolly. It is not near enough for her to dis 
 turb you, and yet she can hear when you whistle." 
 
 My heart jumped at this proposal ; but, knowing 
 my lady, I was careful not to show any pleasure : 
 on the contrary, when Mrs. Williams appealed to 
 me, I answered, " It would do well enough, I sup 
 posed." 
 
 " Well enough ! Yes, I think it will do well 
 enough and too well for a chit like you, since it has 
 
Mrs. Studley^s Diary. 11 
 
 served an earl s daughter in its time," said my lady 
 tartly. " " You shall have this room, and no other, 
 do you hear? and you can have this cabinet to 
 keep your finery in." 
 
 " Yes, I have so much finery ! " I could not help 
 saying. 
 
 " Oh, you are not so badly off as all that ! " an 
 swered my lady. " One would think you had not 
 clothes to your back ! " 
 
 "Mrs. Dolly will need some new gowns, my 
 lady," said Mrs. Williams. " I had better buy her 
 a camlet for Sundays, and some stuff for every 
 day." 
 
 " Nonsense ! You can make over my gray camlet 
 for her, if she needs it. However, I don t mind 
 for once. Here, child, is a guinea for you, and 
 mind you take care of it. You were best let Wil 
 liams buy your gowns, however. There, I won t 
 go any farther to-day. Tell Jeremy to bring your 
 mail up here, and you can be putting your things 
 in order while I am resting , but don t disturb me 
 with your noise, and be ready to read to me when 
 I wake." 
 
 This conversation took place the day before yes 
 terday, on which day my Lady Corbet removed 
 from her own house, where she has lived ever 
 since she became a widow, to this which was the 
 mansion of her late husband, Sir Charles Corbet. 
 She has never been here before since his death, 
 but has lived in her own house in the city. But 
 the land having become valuable, and this house 
 
12 Through Unknoicn Ways; or, 
 
 standing empty, she all at once made up her mind 
 to remove. The house was already furnished, so 
 it was no great trouble. For some reason which 
 I don t understand, it has never been lived in since 
 Sir Charles died, and was damp and dingy enough ; 
 but a few charwomen, under Mrs. Williams s active 
 superintendence, soon gave it another aspect, and 
 now it is nice and pleasant, and even my lady ad 
 mits is far more sunny and healthful than her city 
 abode. 
 
 For my part,. I am glad of the change with all 
 my heart. It is a change, for one thing, and I 
 have had but little variety heretofore. Then we 
 are at the court end of the town, not far from 
 Whitehall, and there is a deal of coming and going 
 of fine equipages and of well-dressed ladies and 
 gentlemen. Best of all, I can see from mine own 
 window a good piece of the park and of the water 
 where the king keeps his tame fowls. They say 
 he walks there early every morning : so, if I rise 
 soon enough, I may chance to see him. 
 
 To return to my story. I unpacked my mail, 
 which was no heavy task, seeing I have so few 
 personal belongings, and then set myself to ex 
 amine the cabinet. It is large and very prett}% 
 inlaid with ivory and brass work, and having 
 many drawers and compartments. I discovered 
 nothing save a few old-fashioned trinkets in a 
 private drawer, some odds and ends of ribbon and 
 lace, and a great heap of letters and bills, very few 
 of which were receipted. There were two or 
 
Mrs. StuMey** Diary. 13 
 
 three cupboards in the room ; and on the top shelf 
 of one of these I deposited all the papers, meaning 
 to look over the letters at my leisure. 
 
 In clearing out one of the compartments, I 
 touched a spring, it seems ; for the whole panel 
 at the back slipped aside, and disclosed a toler 
 ably deep recess, wherein was a pile of books, 
 neatly bound and clasped. Eagerly I pulled them 
 out and opened them, hoping to find something 
 in the way of entertaining reading, but they were 
 all blank paper. In the beginning of the largest 
 was written, in a somewhat stiff hand, this inscrip 
 tion : 
 
 " When I was wedded, my dear and honored mother gave 
 me a set of books like to these, in order that T might keep 
 an account of my private expenses, and also set down such 
 matters of interest as I might wish to remember, and such 
 pieces of devotion as should be useful to me. I have fol 
 lowed her counsel in this matter all my life, and have found 
 great benefit therein. I give these books to my dear daugh 
 ter Jemima, that she may follow the same practice." 
 
 But it seems Lady Jem never did follow it to 
 any great extent; for the books are all blank, 
 with the exception of a few items set down on 
 the first page of the account book, and two or 
 three receipts for washes and cordials in the 
 others. I was musing over the old-fashioned, 
 cramped handwriting, and wondering what the 
 good old lady would have said to her daughter s 
 gay career, but she died, happily or unhappily, 
 soon after Lady Jem s marriage, when the 
 
14 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 thought occurred to me, why should not I keep 
 a journal, and so have some place to pour out my 
 thoughts, which place I have not now. Mrs. Wil 
 liams is kind to me always, and I believe she is 
 truly my friend; but she never encourages me to 
 talk about myself or my mistress. Perhaps she is 
 right and wise ; but, at any rate, that is her way. 
 I used to make something of a confidant of Mrs. 
 Ursula Robertson, my lady s cousin, who visits 
 here now and then. But one day I heard her re 
 peating to my lady some slighting remarks which 
 Mrs. Pendergast, the minister s wife, had made 
 about her, and that was enough for me. " A dog 
 that will fetch a bone will carry a bone," is an old, 
 and mayhap a somewhat vulgar, proverb, but it 
 is a true one. I have no doubt now that she led 
 me on to say things about my mistress which she 
 afterward repeated to her, and thus helped to set 
 her against me. Well, all of a sudden the thought 
 came into my mind, " Why should not I make a 
 friend of these books, and confide to them. They 
 at least, will not tattle again, since I have a snug 
 hiding-place for them." I am usually sure of two 
 hours every day, while my lady takes her after 
 noon nap, and I can sometimes gain another by 
 early rising in summer, not at this time of year, 
 however, for my lady keeps count of every inch 
 of candle burned in the house. 
 
 December 21. 
 
 It was late when I found my treasures yesterday, 
 and I had little time to write ; but my lady to-day 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 15 
 
 dismissed me earlier than usual, and I hastened to 
 my retreat. I cannot enough thank Mrs. Williams 
 for securing it to me. Where we lived before, my 
 room was directly over my lady s, and I could not 
 stir but she heard me ; but here I might dance a 
 reel, and she be none the wiser. But I said I 
 would begin with the story of my life, and here 
 it is. 
 
 I was born on Christmas Day in 1667, and ought 
 therefore to be a very lucky child ; but my luck, if 
 I ever fulfil my destiny, is yet to come. I do not 
 remember my father at all. He was a cousin of 
 Sir Charles Corbet s, and died fighting the Moors 
 at Bombain, 1 that barren piece of the queen s 
 dowry, which is like to cost a good deal more than 
 it will ever come to. ( I believe, after all, they 
 were Indians and not Moors, and that the Moors 
 live at Tangier : but it does not greatly matter.) 
 My mother being left a widow, with but small 
 means, for she never had even my father s back 
 pay, much less the pension which was promised 
 her, bethought herself of turning her very good 
 education to account by opening a school for 
 young ladies at Hackney, where we then lived; 
 and an opportunity offering she went into partner 
 ship with a lady who had for a long time kept a 
 boarding-school. Mrs. Price was her name, and 
 she was a wealthy woman. She was getting on in 
 years, and needed an assistant; and, knowing of 
 my mother, she sent for her, arid proposed to put 
 
 1 What we now call Bombay. 
 
16 Through Unknown Ways; 0r, 
 
 into her hands the active duties of the school, she 
 herself remaining at the head of the establishment. 
 My mother jumped at the chance, for it was truly 
 a good one, better than she had any reason to ex 
 pect. It gave her the opportunity of learning the 
 ways of a good school, and at the same time of 
 educating me, then a tall girl of five years old. 
 
 But here my dear mother made a great mistake. 
 She put all her little capital, some hundreds of 
 pounds, into the hands of Mrs. Price s man of busi 
 ness, without a scrap of acknowledgment, not 
 even a receipt. He was Mrs. Price s nephew, and 
 he made great professions of piety. His aunt 
 trusted him entirely, and my poor mother thought 
 she could do no less. All went well enough for 
 some years. My mother managed the school and 
 the young ladies, and I went on with my educa 
 tion. I was always fond of my book, and espe 
 cially of my music and languages ; and at fifteen 
 I could write and read well, speak French and a 
 little Italian, dance, and play on the lute and vir 
 ginals. I had my little troubles and school scrapes, 
 of course, and. was crossed and contradicted, like 
 other young things ; but I do not believe many 
 people have had a happier life than I enjoyed up 
 to that time. 
 
 Then my troubles began. Mrs. Price died first. 
 She had always said she meant to leave the school 
 and the house to my mother, having no near kin 
 but her nephew, who was rich already. But no 
 will was to be found. Mr. Harpe Harpy he 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 17 
 
 ought to have been called took possession of 
 every thing, even to the poor lady s clothes, and 
 coolly told my mother he did not mean to con 
 tinue the school, and so should have no occasion 
 for her services ; and, when she demanded the re 
 turn of the three hundred pounds she had put into 
 his hands, he had the audacity to deny the whole 
 thing, and defy her to prove that he owed her 
 any thing, and she could not prove it. Mrs. Price, 
 the only person knowing to the transaction, was 
 dead and gone ; and, as I said, mother had not a 
 receipt or a scrap of paper to substantiate her 
 claim. She had ten pounds in her pocket, and 
 Mr. Harpe had the generosity to give her ten more ; 
 saying, that though she had tried to wrong him, 
 he would not turn her out penniless, and adding 
 something in his sanctimonious tone about return 
 ing good for evil, which made me long to choke 
 him. It must have gone hard with mother to take 
 the money, for she was a high-spirited woman ; but 
 I suppose she thought of me, and put her pride in 
 her pocket. A good woman lived near us whose 
 daughter had been my school-friend. Poor Emma 
 had died not long before of a waste, and my mother 
 had helped to nurse her. This good lady gave us 
 a home, though she was far from being rich ; and 
 in her house my dear mother died when I was six 
 teen. She said on her death-bed that she wished 
 she could take me with her, and I am sure I wish 
 she had. Bab Andrews was reading the other 
 day of some Indians who buried girl babies with 
 
18 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 their dead mothers. I am not sure but it is a 
 good way. 
 
 The lady with whom I lived, Mrs. Jenkins, was 
 related to Mrs. Williams, my Lady Corbet s woman. 
 Through her, she made known to Sir Charles Cor 
 bet, my kinsman, my forlorn condition, and he 
 and Mrs. Williams somehow coaxed my lady to take 
 me into her service ; and here I have been for two 
 miserable years, the slave of her whims, and the 
 butt of her ill-temper. Sir Charles was good to 
 me, in his careless way, while he lived; but he 
 died only a year after my entrance into the fam 
 ily. They say he married my lady for her money, 
 and because she promised to pay his debts. If so, 
 I am sure he paid dearly for the help she gave 
 him. Such a life as she led him ! But he was 
 a man, and could get away from home ; and now 
 and then he would assert himself, and fairly make 
 her afraid of him, as when she insisted on remov 
 ing the likeness of Lady Jemima, which I have 
 mentioned before, from the drawing-room. I ex 
 pected to see the picture consigned to the garret 
 when we came back here, but I do believe she has 
 a superstitious dread of touching it. 
 
 When Sir Charles lay on his death-bed, he called 
 me to him one clay, and gave me a gold chain, 
 with a little locket attached to it, in the shape of 
 a small egg, bidding me put it on and wear it, but 
 secretly. Then calling on Dr. Clark and his own 
 man, who were both in the room, he bade them 
 bear witness that he gave me the locket. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 19 
 
 "Promise me that you will never open it till 
 you are married, and then only on some pinch, 
 when you need money : and, above all, never let 
 my wife see it. Promise me ! " he said earnestly, 
 holding my hand with a clasp that hurt me. 
 
 " I promise," said I. 
 
 "That is well," he answered. "Now look in 
 the back of yonder drawer, and bring me a pic 
 ture you will find there." I did so. It was a 
 miniature of Lady Jemima, with a chain attached. 
 
 "Put it round my neck," he said to his man 
 Richards, who was waiting on him. 
 
 Richards did so, I helping him. Sir Charles 
 thanked us both, and kissed me. Seeing a change 
 in his face, which I knew too well, I ventured to 
 suggest that he should send for a clergyman. 
 
 "Do, Sir Charles! it can do no harm," urged 
 poor Richards, the tears running down his face, for 
 he loved his master. "Do let me or Mrs. Dolly 
 run for Dr. Gibson." 
 
 Sir Charles shook his head, with a faint smile. 
 " No, no ! " said he ; " at least, I will make no false 
 pretences." 
 
 " But, dear cousin, it need not be a pretence," 
 I said. "Do but try to trust in God." 
 
 He shook his head again. " No, child : I have 
 doubted so long, I have lost the power of believing. 
 Dress me for the grave yourself, Richards, and see 
 that the picture lies on my heart." 
 
 "At least let Mrs. Dolly call my lady," said the 
 doctor, for he changed more and more. 
 
20 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 "No, no ! Let me at least die in peace. I am 
 glad she is not here." And in a moment he was 
 gone. 
 
 My lady made no great pretence of grief for her 
 husband, beyond putting on very deep weeds. I 
 do not think she ever cared for him. He married 
 for money, and she because she had an ambition 
 for title and fashion. Both were disappointed in 
 a great measure : for he was ashamed of her, and 
 would never take her to court; and her money 
 was all tied up in her own hands. She gave him 
 what she liked, and I fancy that was very little. 
 
 Of course I never told my lady of Sir Charles s 
 dying gift, and should not, even if I had not prom 
 ised. She would insist on opening it, and would 
 probably take it away from me altogether. I can 
 not open the locket myself, if I would. It has no 
 visible opening, though of course there must be 
 one somewhere. And I would not if I could at 
 least, I think not. 
 
 December 24. 
 
 Christmas Eve but one must not dare to say 
 Christmas in this house. At Mrs. Price s school 
 we used to have fine doings on Christmas Eve for 
 the family, and those of the ladies who did not go 
 home for the holidays. We used to dress up the 
 great schoolroom with ivy and holly, and Mrs. 
 Price would always have a branch of mistletoe 
 hung in the midst, to keep up old fashions, as 
 she said; though her pious nephew, Mr. Harpe, 
 shook his head at it, and said it was a relic of 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 21 
 
 paganism and unfit for a Christian household. 
 Then we had grand games of " hunt the slipper," 
 "hoodman blind," and "forfeits," ending off at 
 nine with a fine hot supper of spiced frumenty and 
 plum-porridge. On Christmas Day we all went to 
 church, and came home to a dinner of beef, fowls, 
 and plum-pudding for all the household. Mistress 
 Price did love to see happy faces about her ; ami 
 she had an assistant, like-minded with herself, in 
 dear mother. After dinner we used to carry little 
 gifts we had made to the poor old people and 
 orphan children who lived at some old almshouses 
 which joined our garden at the back, another 
 practice to which Mr. Harpe objected, and 
 when we came home we found each a pretty 
 Christmas-box by her plate at supper-time. My 
 last one, I know, was a prayer-book bound in 
 purple leather. I had it for a long time ; but 
 unluckily one day my lady caught sight of it, and 
 took it away, saying she would have no such rags 
 of popery under her roof. Since then I have 
 never seen one, nor have I been inside a church 
 since I came to this house. My lady never goes 
 to any place of worship. She says she is not able, 
 though she can go to other places when she has a 
 mind. I heard Mr. Baxter remonstrating with 
 her about it the last time he was here. She an 
 swered shortly, that she best knew the state of her 
 own health, adding, 
 
 "But I hate prelacy and popery and all their 
 adherents as much as you do, Mr. Baxter." 
 
22 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " Madam," said the old gentleman, " I must tell 
 you that a religion which has no foundation but 
 hatred is not likely to be very acceptable to the 
 God of love." 
 
 Whereat my lady looked blacker than a thunder 
 cloud, but she stands too much in awe of Mr. 
 Baxter to fall upon him. However, she took it 
 out on me afterward. I could not blame Mr. 
 Baxter if he did hate the prelatists, for certainly he 
 has had very hard measure ; but no one has ever 
 molested my lady. But I don t think Mr. Baxter 
 has any such feeling. Certainly I too have had 
 hard measure from Mr. Harpe and my lady, but I 
 don t hate all Presbyterians for their sake. On the 
 contrary, I am very sorry for them, and think them 
 very hardly dealt by ; and I do like Mr. Baxter 
 and the Pendergasts. I am indebted to Mr. Bax 
 ter for a good turn, and I shall not forget it. One 
 day when I went out alone, I "found on a bookstall 
 a book new to me. It was a kind of fable or alle 
 gory, called " The Pilgrim s Progress ; " and, after 
 reading a few pages therein, I took such a fancy 
 to it that I bought it for sixpence. I was so silly 
 as to take it out one day in my lady s room, and of 
 course she came in and caught me. She took the 
 book away, and was going to burn it ; but at Mrs. 
 Williams s intercession she kept it to show to Mr. 
 Baxter, whom she expected that evening. He 
 took it ancl looked it over with interest. 
 
 "I have heard of the volume, but never have 
 seen it before," said he ; and then turning to me, 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 23 
 
 with his usual politeness he added, "With your 
 leave, Mrs. Dolly, I will take the book home and 
 examine it at my leisure." 
 
 " Of course you can do so," said my lady, taking 
 the words out of my mouth as I was about to 
 answer. " Tis not for her to say what books she 
 shall read, I trow. But is not this Bunyan a 
 Quaker or some such thing ? I am sure I have 
 heard so." 
 
 "He is an Anabaptist, and so in some sort a 
 heretic, no doubt," answered Mr. Baxter; "but, 
 from all I have heard of him, I believe that he is a 
 good man, and preaches the root of the matter." 
 
 He took the book away with him, and I never 
 expected to see it again; but he returned it the 
 next day with a note, saying that he could hon 
 estly recommend the piece as not only orthodox, 
 but edifying, and likely to interest young people, 
 whose imaginations were naturally taken with truth 
 conveyed in the form of an allegory or tale. He 
 also enclosed with it a sermon on the peculiar 
 errors of the Anabaptists, which he hoped I would 
 read. And so I did, for I read it aloud to my lady. 
 I can t say I was much the wiser; for by long 
 practice on the kind of books my lady affects, I 
 have learned the art of reading aloud tolerably 
 well, and thinking my own thoughts at the same 
 time. I began to read " The Pilgrim s Progress " 
 to her; but she soon stopped me, saying it was 
 only a fairy tale, just fit for such fools as I was. 
 My own notion is that it stirred up her conscience, 
 
24 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 and that she did not like the feeling. So I had 
 my book to myself ; and I have read it more than 
 once, though it makes me uncomfortable. For, if 
 it be true, what is my condition ? I know very 
 well I am not religious. I do not even pretend to 
 be so any more. Only that I know a few people 
 like Mr. Baxter and Mrs. Williams, and that I 
 remember my own mother, 1 should think all 
 religion a mere pretence and hypocrisy. My lady 
 never goes to any place of worship, as I said. I 
 don t believe her health has any thing to do with 
 the matter, however. I think she is afraid of fines 
 and sequestrations, and of being asked for money. 
 I know she was very angry at being asked to con 
 tribute to a fund for the support of some poor 
 minister s family, so much so that when Mr. Pen- 
 dergast came again she would not see him. It 
 must be very disagreeable to be on the losing side, 
 and yet take no comfort in one s religion ; but, to 
 be sure, she has the pleasure of being contrary. 
 There is her whistle, and I know by the very 
 sound that she is in a temper. I shall not go till 
 I have put away my books, however. She may as 
 well scold for one thing as another. 
 
 December 25, Christmas Day. 
 
 But not much like Christmas. Nothing would 
 serve my lady but a dinner of dried ling and pars 
 nips. However, Mary Mathews had leave to go 
 see her mother, and she brought me home a mince- 
 pie. How homelike it tasted ! In the evening, 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 25 
 
 however, we did have some diversion. Ursula 
 Robertson came in, arid brought her cousin, who 
 has just returned from Scotland where he had a 
 command. He is a fine, handsome, personable man, 
 and polite in a frank, soldierly fashion, and evi 
 dently took my lady s fancy ; at which I wondered, 
 for certainly he makes no pretensions to sanctity. 
 
 " Where have you served ? " she asked him by 
 and by. 
 
 " At Tangier mostly, madam, and since then in 
 Scotland." 
 
 Now, we all know what service in Scotland 
 means ; and I expected to see my lady fly out, but 
 she did not. 
 
 " You will find England but dull after such a 
 stirring life abroad," said she. " Why did you 
 come home ? " 
 
 " On account of sickness, madam. I was so ill 
 that my life was despaired of, and an old wound 
 that I got fighting the Moors broke out again." 
 And then he added some compliment about the 
 sight of fair English faces working a cure, with a 
 deep reverence, as he spoke, to Ursula and me. 
 He makes a very graceful bow. 
 
 " I will not have Dolly s head turned with com 
 pliments," said my lady. "She is quite vain 
 enough as it is. And what are you about now, if 
 one may ask ? " 
 
 " My good lady the Duchess of Portsmouth has 
 promised to use her interest to procure for me a 
 small place about the court," answered Mr. Morley 
 
26 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 (that is his name, though I forgot to say so) ; " no 
 great matter, but enough for the modest wants of 
 a poor cavalier till he has the luck to make his 
 fortune." 
 
 " Oh, you think to marry an heiress, I dare 
 say! " said my lady sharply ; and then, some other 
 guests coming in, she turned to them, and left Mr. 
 Morley to entertain us } T oung ones. I must say 
 he made himself very agreeable. When they 
 were going away, Ursula seized a chance to ask 
 me how I liked her cousin. 
 
 " Well enough, all I have seen of him," said I. 
 " But what do your father and your aunt and 
 uncle Pendergast say to him ? " 
 
 "Oh, my father does not trouble himself about 
 him, and my uncle and aunt have not seen him ! 
 But is he not a gallant gentleman ? It was a fine 
 thing his knowing the Duchess of Portsmouth 
 when they were both young. But for her he 
 never would have got this promotion. Tis a fine 
 thing to have court influence," she added some 
 what enviously. " But of course we poor Presby 
 terians can t hope for such a thing." 
 
 " I don t believe your father or your uncle Pen 
 dergast would accept of promotion from such a 
 quarter," said I. 
 
 " Oh, well, of course it is different with a young 
 man and a soldier, and my cousin Morley does not 
 pretend to be religious ! " 
 
 But I don t see what difference that makes. If 
 there be any thing in religion at all, then the neg- 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 27 
 
 lecting thereof cannot be an excuse for, but only 
 an aggravation of, wrong-doing. 
 
 Twelfth Day, 1685. 
 
 I wish holidays could be left out of the year, or 
 else that I could forget them, since they only bring 
 up sorrowful memories. What famous Twelfth 
 Day games we used to have at Mrs. Price s! The 
 very last one I spent there I got the bean in the cake, 
 and was crowned with a fine coronet of gilt paper, 
 beset with beads, which dear mother had prepared 
 on the sly for a surprise to us. To think that is 
 only two years ago : it seems like a lifetime. 
 However, I did have something like a holiday to 
 day ; for my lady, being in a wonderful good-humor, 
 allowed me to go with Ursula to her uncle s house, 
 that we might see the king passing to dine with 
 the mayor and aldermen. I had a good look at 
 his Majesty and the Duke of York. They have 
 both harsh features, and could never be called 
 handsome if they were not royal personages ; but 
 I like the king s face the best of the two, because 
 it is the better-natured. I saw that he smiled 
 kindly on a poor woman who pressed forward to 
 put a petition into his hand. I saw, too, that he 
 presently let it drop without ever looking at it : 
 so his good-nature did not amount to very much. 
 The Duke of York looked black as night all the 
 time. 
 
 " His Majesty is not looking well," said a voice 
 at my elbow. I turned with a start, and saw Mr. 
 Morley. 
 
28 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " How came you hither ? " asked Ursula rather 
 tartly. 
 
 " What a question ! Ask the iron how it comes 
 to the lodestone," answered Capt. Morley, with a 
 deep reverence which included both of us. "Not 
 being in waiting to-day, what more natural than 
 that I should give a visit to my fair kinswoman, 
 and, learning that she was gone abroad, what more 
 natural than that I should follow her? " 
 
 " You have learned your courtier s trade al 
 ready," said Ursula. " Soldiers do not pay such 
 fine compliments, do they, Dolly?" 
 
 "How should I know," I answered, "since I 
 never knew either courtier or soldier in all my 
 life?" 
 
 "No, I fancy good Mrs. Price did not allow 
 such dangerous creatures in her bounds," returned 
 Ursula, whereat Capt. Morley said something 
 about the dragon that kept the gardens where 
 grew the golden fruit. " But we all know that 
 the sweetest flowers bloom in shady places," he 
 added, at which Ursula looked ready to bite. I 
 don t know why he should bestow so many fine 
 phrases on me, unless he wishes to make Ursula 
 jealous ; and I don t know why he should wish to 
 do that, for he must know that his cousin is con 
 tracted already to a merchant in the city. And 
 even if she were not, her father would hardly give 
 her to a needy courtier, and one, too, who has 
 been a persecutor under Claverhouse. Mr. An 
 drews, Ursula s servant, coming in at that moment, 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 29 
 
 Mr. Morley devoted himself specially to me, and 
 I must say made himself very agreeable. Ursula 
 recovered her good-humor in some degree when 
 Mr. Andrews made his appearance, but I could see 
 she was all the time listening to hear what Mr. 
 Morley was saying to me. Mr. Andrews is a fine, 
 personable man, rich, and of good address and 
 education. I think she might be satisfied with 
 him. 
 
 " I hear the king is not quite himself these 
 days," said Mr. Andrews, addressing himself to 
 Mr. Morlej T . 
 
 " Tis true, sir, I am sorry to say," answered 
 Mr. Morley. " I trust it is nothing serious, how 
 ever, no more than a passing indisposition." 
 
 " And so must all," remarked Mr. Andrews, 
 " since his Majesty hath no son to succeed him." 
 
 " Then you are not one of those who believe in 
 the black box?" 
 
 " What, in the Duke of Monmouth s claim ? 
 Not I, sir ! " answered Mr. Andrews, laughing. 
 "I would as soon believe in mine own." And 
 then, more seriously, " I trust no one will be so 
 ill-advised arid cruel as to set on that young man 
 to put forward a claim which can never be sub 
 stantiated." 
 
 " You would perhaps rather have Oliver back ! " 
 said Ursula maliciously. " We all know what your 
 father s politics are, Mr. Andrews. He was one 
 of Oliver s Ironsides, was he not ? " 
 
 "You may easily know what are my father s 
 
30 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 politics, Mrs. Ursula," said the good man, his 
 honest face flushing at her tone, which was suf 
 ficiently contemptuous : " no secret was ever made 
 of them that I know of. My father was not in 
 the Ironsides, however. He commanded a ship 
 under the Parliament, and helped to humble the 
 pride of the Dutch, who did not come up the river 
 to Chatham in those days." 
 
 "Well said, man, and I like you all the better 
 for standing up for your father," said Capt. 
 Morley (he really is a captain it seems), striking 
 him on the shoulder. " Your father was not the 
 only old Puritan who has done the king good ser 
 vice, and I dare say you would do the same." 
 
 " I am beholden to you for your good opinion, 
 sir," answered Mr. Andrews, with much dignity ; 
 and then he turned away, and began talking with 
 Mrs. Robertson. Ursula sulked a little ; but 
 seeming by and by to think she had gone far 
 enough, she began to exert all her arts of pleasing, 
 which are neither few nor small, and soon had her 
 lover at her feet again. Poor man, I think he is 
 far too good for her ! 
 
 We walked home together, and Ursula must 
 needs come in and tell my lady all about every 
 thing, and how much attention I had received ; 
 whereby she earned me a fine rating for forward 
 ness and vanity, which, uo doubt, was what she 
 intended. 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 31 
 
 January 20. 
 
 Tis a long time since I wrote in my book. My 
 lady hath been ill seriously, but not danger 
 ously with rheumatism, and Mrs. Williams and 
 I have had our hands full. The doctor tells her 
 she must go to the Bath as soon as the weather is 
 warm enough, and she says she will; but I don t 
 believe it. She will never make up her mind to 
 spend so much money. Of course I have been 
 pretty closely shut up ; but I have been out a few 
 times to do errands, and now and then in the early 
 morning to walk a little. Once I ventured as far 
 as the park, which, indeed, is not very far, and 
 saw his Majesty taking his morning walk with 
 only one or two attendants, and flinging bits of 
 bread to his tame ducks and swans. Capt. 
 Morley was in attendance, and put off his hat to 
 me. The king looked at me curiously, and I sup 
 pose asked who I was. He turned presently, and, 
 as I courtesied, he said kindly, " Good-morrow, 
 sweetheart ! You are sunning your roses early." 
 " When you do not know what to say, say nothing," 
 was my mother s maxim : so I only courtesied 
 again, and hastened home, feeling rather scared, 
 and yet pleased, that I had had a word from his 
 Majesty. He hath a pleasant way with him, and 
 his face, when lighted by a smile, is very winning. 
 Tis a pity he were not a different man in some 
 ways. 
 
 I have seen Capt. Morley two or three times. 
 He is always very polite. Once he gave me an 
 
32 Through Unknown Ways; 0r, 
 
 orange, but I dared not eat it lest the smell thereof 
 should betray me to my lady : so I gave it to Mary 
 Mathews for her sick father. I kept a bit of the 
 skin, however, and it is in my cabinet now. 
 
 February 1. 
 
 Tis said the king is very ill, and not like to be 
 better. He had a kind of fit this morning, and at 
 noon had not yet recovered consciousness. Capt. 
 Morley looked in to tell us the sad news. 
 
 February 2. 
 
 His Majesty is no better. All the principal 
 physicians and surgeons in town are by his bed 
 side. The archbishop and two or three other 
 bishops are in attendance, and one or other has sat 
 up with him every night. One sees nothing but 
 tears and sad faces, and people throng to the 
 churches in crowds to pray for the king s life. 
 Ursula was here, and told us of these things. 
 She has reasons more than one to pray for his 
 recovery, for of course his death must put off her 
 marriage which was fixed for next week. 
 
 February 5. 
 
 It was said this morning that the king was bet 
 ter, and the church-bells rang merrily. Being 
 sent out to match some silk for Mrs. Williams s 
 work, and having a little time on my hands, I 
 stepped into a church, the doors of which were 
 open, and knelt down to offer a prayer myself; 
 but the sound of the minister s voice, the sight of 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 33 
 
 the chancel, and the very air and scent of the 
 place did so awaken old memories that I could do 
 naught but cry. When I rose from my knees, I 
 saw next me a lady with whom I have some 
 acquaintance, Lady Clarenham. She had a young 
 relation at Mrs. Price s school, and used to come 
 sometimes to visit her ; and the little maid being 
 in some sort under my care for she was very 
 young the lady was pleased to thank me for 
 my attention, and give me a gold piece for a 
 token. 
 
 Lady Clarenham knew me directly, and greeted 
 me very kindly. She is a pretty, rather elderly 
 lady ; and I like her all the better that she does 
 not try to look young, as almost everybody does 
 nowadays. I asked after little Mrs. Patty. 
 
 " Oh, she is well, and grown almost a woman ! " 
 answered my lady. " She often talks of you/ 
 And then she asked me of my welfare, and how 
 I was living, and I told her. We were in the 
 porch by this time ; u young gentleman standing 
 by, whom I took to belong to her family, as he 
 seemed to be waiting for her . 
 
 "I used to know the Lady Jemima Corbet," 
 said Lady Clarenham. "I think I must give this 
 lady a visit, and ask her to spare you to me for a 
 day or two, at least if you would like to come." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, madam," I answered ; and then, 
 startled to see how late it was, I hastened home. 
 My lady was asleep when I came in, and Mrs. 
 Williams asked me what had kept me so long. I 
 
34 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 told her frankly that I had stepped into a church 
 to say a prayer for the king, and there I had met 
 with an old acquaintance, who had kept me talk 
 ing a few minutes. 
 
 " And who was that, pray, Mistress Gadabout ? " 
 asked my lady, opening her eyes suddenly. 
 
 I told her that it was my Lady Clarenham. 
 
 "And pray what had my Lady Clarenham to 
 say to you, and how came you to know her ?" 
 
 I told her. 
 
 " Then you may tell my Lady Clarenham, next 
 time you see her, that I want none of her visits. 
 A fine tale, indeed, when errand-girls and cham 
 ber-maids receive visits from titled ladies ! Wil 
 liams, why did you send her out at all ? " 
 
 " I needed sewing-silk to finish your gown, my 
 lady," answered Mrs. Williams. 
 
 " And why need you use silk at all, or if you 
 must needs have it, why could you not save what 
 you ripped out ? " demanded my lady. "I shall be 
 ruined, ruined out of house and home, by all this 
 waste and extravagance, and paying for doctors 
 and medicine. I shall die in an almshouse." 
 
 " And what harm will that do you, madam ? " 
 asked Mrs. Williams tranquilly. My lady stared 
 at her. 
 
 " What harm, quotha ! What harm ! " she re 
 peated, almost gasping for breath. 
 
 " Yes, what harm ? " said Mrs. Williams. " When 
 one has been dead two minutes, what difference 
 will it make whether one has died in an almshouse 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 35 
 
 or in Whitehall, since both must be left behind 
 forever ? " 
 
 " Pshaw ! don t talk any of your Muggletonian 
 and Independent rant to me!" said my lady. 
 (Mrs. Williams is some kind of Independent, I 
 don t know what exactly, and when my lady 
 wants to take it out on her she calls her a Mug 
 gletonian.) " I am a practical woman, and take a 
 practical view of things. Dolly, what news did 
 you hear? for of course your ears were open: 
 trust a waiting-woman for that ! " 
 
 I told her that every one said the king was 
 better, and almost out of danger. 
 
 " I have never believed he was going to die," 
 said she, "a strong man, and not older that I 
 am. It was not likely he would give up to the 
 first illness." 
 
 But people die at all ages. To-night Mr. Mor- 
 ley came in to tell us that the king was given over 
 by his physicians, and was not likely to live the 
 night out. 
 
 " And what then ? " asked my lady. 
 
 " Why, then, God save King James, I suppose," 
 answered Mr. Morley, lightly enough; and then, 
 more seriously, " There will be many sad hearts 
 in this nation by this time to-morrow." 
 
 " May God give him space for repentance ! " said 
 Mrs. Williams, so solemnly that we were all silent 
 for a minute ; and then she asked, " Do you know 
 the state of his mind, sir? " 
 
 " No, madam," answered Mr. Morley. " I know 
 
36 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 that the archbishop and bishop have told him that 
 he could not live, and wished to administer the 
 communion ; but he will not have it." 
 
 " And what reason does he give ? " 
 
 " Sometimes he says there is time enough, and 
 sometimes that he is too weak. There are those 
 that have their own thoughts about the matter, as 
 I have myself; and not the less that Tom Chiffinch 
 brought honest old Father Huddleston up the 
 back stairs to-day. Marry, he hath purveyed 
 other company up those stairs in his time ! " 
 
 " Are you sure ? " asked Mrs. Williams gravely. 
 " Tis a serious thing to say, Mr. Morley." 
 
 " Oh, other folks have eyes in their heads be 
 side me ! " answered Mr. Morley. " The old man 
 was disguised, but half a dozen people saw him." 
 
 " Then you would imply that his Majesty is a 
 Papist ? " said my lady. 
 
 " I, madam ! I imply nothing. I am but a poor 
 gentleman of the back stairs, and it would not be 
 come me to imply tilings of his Majesty." 
 
 "So I think," said Mrs. Williams dryly. 
 
 "I suppose Mr. Morley thinks he shall lose his 
 place an> how, so .he can say what he likes," ob 
 served my lady, improving the occasion to sa\ 
 something disagreeable, as usual. 
 
 " Oh, as to that, his royal Highness is my very 
 good master," answered Mr. Morley. "I hope I 
 shall get a troop, and be in active service again, 
 which is a better life for a man than hanging round 
 a court. Think you not so, Mrs. Dolly ? " 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 37 
 
 " I think I should like it better, but it would 
 depend a good deal on the nature of the service," 
 I answered. " I don t think I should like the ser 
 vice which the troops in Scotland seem to be em 
 ployed about, hunting down the poor wretches of 
 Covenanters." 
 
 " A soldier has no choice but to obey orders, you 
 know," answered Mr. Morley ; " and I can tell you, 
 Mrs. Dolly, these same Covenanters are not such 
 harmless sheep as you seem to suppose." 
 
 " But old men and old women and young lads, 
 Mr. Morley " 
 
 " War is a rough trade, Mrs. Dolly. But per 
 haps I may have the luck to get a command in 
 one of the regiments under the Prince of Orange," 
 said he ; and then, lowering his voice as he saw my 
 lady busy with a knot in her netting : " I would 
 not willingly fall in your good opinion, fair lady." 
 
 Certainly he has a pleasant way with him. Even 
 my lady feels it, and is more civil to him than to 
 any one. But I don t think Mrs. Williams likes 
 him. I don t see why not, I am sure. 
 
 February 6. 
 
 The king died to-day at noon, without a strug 
 gle, they say. Nothing is seen in the streets but 
 tears and sad faces. His easy, familiar ways and 
 kind manners made him beloved even by those 
 who could not approve his conduct ; and, besides, 
 people are afraid of what is to come. It is said the 
 king once said to his brother, "I am safe from 
 
38 Throui/li L nknowH Ways; or, 
 
 assassination while you live, James, for no one 
 would kill me to make you king." His present 
 Majesty being an avowed papist puts people upon 
 grave thoughts of what is like to come. But I 
 trust all will be well. 
 
 February 7. 
 
 A general mourning is ordered, as if for a father, 
 and my lady is in a great strait what to do about 
 it. Ursula Robertson came in with her father, to 
 bring us the news, and was presently followed by 
 her servant, Mr. Andrews, and Mr. Moiiey. 
 
 " Of course you will put on mourning directly, 
 sister, " says Mr. Robertson, who seemed really to 
 have got his wits together for once. Generally he 
 is like an owl in daylight, when he is out of his 
 counting-house. 
 
 " Yes," added Ursula : "you live so near White 
 hall, the omission will be sure to be noticed. I 
 think we Presbyterians ought to be specially care 
 ful about it : we are like to have hard times enough 
 anyhow." 
 
 " Nay, I trust not," said Mr. Andrews. " Tis 
 said by some that the king is in favor of universal 
 toleration of all religions." 
 
 Mr. Morley laughed. " c Lay not that flattering 
 unction to your soul, " said he. u The king is the 
 king, but I have seen him in Scotland." 
 
 " Do let us have a chance to talk a little about 
 matters of importance," said my lady peevishly. 
 " It seems to me that young folks take all the talk 
 to themselves nowadays. About this business of 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 39 
 
 mourning, brother Robertson. Do you think it 
 will be needful to buy new goods ? You know I 
 left off my weeds only two years ago, and Dolly 
 must have the black she wore for her mother. 
 Will not that do ? " 
 
 " T should say not, I should say not," answered 
 Mr. Robertson. " I should say that with a person 
 of your known wealth, sister Corbet, it would 
 certainly draw down unpleasant remarks." 
 
 " I cannot wear my black gowns at all," said I, 
 rather maliciously I am afraid. " They are both 
 outworn and outgrown. And you know, my lady, 
 you sold most part of your weeds to poor Mrs. 
 Anscomb, when she lost her husband." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Mistress Malapert ! Who 
 asked your opinion ? " said my lady, giving me a 
 vengeful glance. And indeed it was spiteful in 
 me, but I so seldom have a chance to get amends 
 of her. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I should say it was needful for you to 
 provide black for yourself and all your house 
 hold ! " said Mr. Robertson. " I will send you 
 some pieces of serge and bombazine to choose 
 from." 
 
 My lady sighed and groaned over the expense, 
 but finally gave in. I suppose we shall all be 
 pinched in our diet to pay for the same. Happily 
 Mrs. Williams hath charge of the keys at present. 
 
 By and by Mr. Morley made her a present of 
 some cakes of chocolate, which put her into a some 
 what better humor. As he was going away, he 
 
40 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 put a little parcel into my hand, slyly whispering 
 at the same time, " Sweets to the sweet, fair lady." 
 When I had a chance to open it, I found a pretty 
 gilded glass full of colored and perfumed comfits, 
 and a little book of poetry by Mr. Dryden. I hope 
 Ursula did not see him give it to me, and yet I 
 fear she did. 
 
 Am I growing sly ? I fear so. It is the natu 
 ral consequence of living with a person one is in 
 dread of. When I lived with Mrs. Price and dear 
 mother, I had the name of being frank and open 
 as the day, and I think I deserved it. But what 
 can I do, placed as I am ? 
 
 February 15. 
 
 The king was buried last night, without any 
 pomp at all, very obscurely even for a private 
 gentleman, in the vault under Henry Seventh s 
 chapel at Westminster. Many remarks made 
 about the matter. But it will make little differ 
 ence to him, poor gentleman ! 
 
 February 18. 
 
 The Robertsons are in great trouble. Mr. An 
 drews is taken with a fever, and not likely to 
 recover. I went to see Ursula to-day, and found 
 her crying in her chamber, with all her fine wed 
 ding-clothes spread out upon the bed. I felt very 
 sorry for her. 
 
 " Only think, Dolly, I was to have been wedded 
 this very day ! " said she, sobbing. 
 
 " Perhaps Mr. Andrews may get better," I said. 
 
 " No, the doctor says there is no hope at all." 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 41 
 
 " Have you seen him ? " I ventured to ask. 
 She stared at me in such amazement that she 
 actually forgot to cry. 
 
 " Why no, of course not ! " said she. " I might 
 take the fever and die, or be disfigured for life ; 
 and besides," she added, crying again, " I could 
 not endure to witness his pain. I am like his late 
 blessed Majesty in that: I can t endure to see peo 
 ple suffer." 
 
 " And like him in another thing, that you don t 
 care how they suffer, so you don t see them," 
 I thought. But she went on bemoaning herself, 
 and mixing up her grief for poor, dear Mr. An 
 drews, with lamentations for her finery which 
 would all be wasted, all be old-fashioned before 
 she could wear it, till I grew weary, and said 
 rather unfeelingly I am afraid, 
 
 " Oh, perhaps not ! Maybe }-ou will get a new 
 admirer before that time." 
 
 "You mean Mr. Morley?" said she, looking at 
 me curiously, but not with the resentment most 
 girls would have shown. 
 
 " No, I did not mean any one in particular," I 
 answered, feeling my face flush, I don t know why. 
 
 " I don t suppose I am a great enough fortune for 
 Mr. Morley," said she, " though I shall have four 
 or five thousand pounds to my portion, too. He 
 says he must needs marry rich : so you see you 
 have no chance, Dolly, unless your mistress dies 
 and leaves you some money." 
 
 "And that will be when the sky falls," said I; 
 
42 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 thinking to myself, " Certainly she will do no such 
 thing if you can help it." 
 
 " Just then good Mrs. Pendergast came in, to 
 say that Mr. Andrews was much worse, that he 
 could not last the day out, and most earnestly 
 desired to bid farewell to his mistress. Whereupon 
 Ursula began to scream and cry, and presently 
 went into a fit, so we had all we could do to 
 hold her. When she was a little better, I took 
 my leave, as much disgusted as ever I was in my 
 life. The heartless creature ! I should think she 
 would have counted every minute lost that she did 
 not spend at his bedside. If it were Mr. Morley 
 But what am I saying ? 
 
 February 21. 
 
 Poor Mr. Andrews is dead and buried. 
 
 March 4. 
 
 Being Ash Wednesday, my lady had a better 
 dinner than ordinary. 
 
 March 6. 
 
 My Lady Clarenham, who I thought had forgot 
 ten all about me, did really give a visit to my lady. 
 She came in her coach, with her servants in livery, 
 and entered the room leaning on the arm of the 
 same young gentleman I saw with her in church, 
 and whom she presented to my lady as Mr. Stud- 
 ley. 
 
 " Mr. Studley is a far away kinsman of mine own, 
 who is so kind as to undertake the government of 
 my family for me," said she. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 43 
 
 " He is but young for such an office," said my 
 mistress, not unkindly. She is always more civil 
 to men than to women. 
 
 Lady Clarenliam chatted awhile in an easy, 
 pleasant, and yet somewhat serious manner. Mr. 
 Studley was mostly silent, except when his lady 
 appealed to him. He is not to say handsome, and 
 yet there is something pleasing in his bright gray 
 eyes, and firm, well-cut mouth. But he is rather 
 small and slight, and did look like a lad by the 
 side of Mr. Morley, who sauntered in, as he does 
 pretty often nowadays. Yet he showed that he 
 could hold his own, too. My Lady Clarenham 
 was speaking of some new book which she had 
 not read, but had heard much commended, and 
 asked Mr. Morley if he had read it. 
 
 " Not I, madam," he answered, laughing. " Such 
 reading is not in my way. I would as soon think 
 of reading the Epistle to the Ephesians." 
 
 " You might perhaps find something of interest 
 in the Epistle to the Ephesians, if you understood 
 it," observed Mr. Studley, whereupon Mr. Morley 
 turned upon him in what I must say was a some 
 what overbearing manner. 
 
 " I would have you know, sir, that I am able to 
 read the Epistle to the Ephesians in the original 
 Greek ! " 
 
 " I do not dispute it, sir," answered Mr. Studley, 
 smiling. " I might read Mr. Boyle s late treatise 
 on the higher mathematics in the original English, 
 but I should hardly be much the wiser without 
 some previous preparation." 
 
44 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 Mr. Morley frowned for a moment, and then 
 laughed good-naturedly. 
 
 " Well said, man ; you have given me back 
 mine own fairly enough. I see you have plenty 
 of fire, for all you look so demure. But tell me, 
 what think you of this last news from the Con 
 tinent? King Louis carries matters with a high 
 hand, does he not ? " 
 
 And so the two fell into friendly conversation. 
 I do like any one who can take a retort pleasantly. 
 
 My Lady Clarenham talked awhile on various 
 matters; and then, turning to me, she asked me 
 about my family. I told her that I knew not 
 much about it; that my mother s marriage had 
 displeased her own family ; and though I knew 
 she had a married sister living somewhere near 
 Exeter, I had no acquaintance with her. 
 
 " Methinks I should know her ! I know most 
 of our west-country gentry, by name, at least," 
 said Lady Clarenham. "What is your uncles 
 name ? " 
 
 " I don t know, madam," I answered. 
 
 " I suspect it is Sir Robert Fullham," said Mr. 
 Studley. " I know him by sight. He is a gentle 
 man reputed wealthy, and much respected. He 
 hath daughters, but I think no son." 
 
 " And do you know my cousins, sir ? " I ventured 
 to ask. 
 
 " Only by sight," he answered. " They are fine 
 young ladies, and, as I understand, much sought 
 after in the gay society of Exeter. I have lived 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 45 
 
 so much abroad that I hardly know our own neigh 
 borhood." 
 
 "You have served?" asked Mr. Morley. 
 
 " Not so, sir ; but my father, wishing to have me 
 learn the French and Italian tongues perfectly, 
 sent me abroad at an early age. I sojourned in 
 the family of a French Protestant minister, and 
 found the life so much to my taste that I staid, 
 perhaps, longer than I ought." 
 
 " This same Protestant minister had daughters, 
 I warrant," said my mistress. 
 
 Mr. Studley smiled. I don t think I ever saw 
 any eyes flash like his. 
 
 " One daughter, about forty years old, and 
 scarred with small-pox," said he. 
 
 " What, then, was the attraction ? " asked Mr. 
 Morley. 
 
 " Even that which makes birds of a feather flock 
 together," answered Mr. Studley. " You know 
 Cicero says it is a great bond of union to think 
 the same things concerning the republic, and the 
 rule holds regarding even more important mat 
 ters." 
 
 "You are, then, a Presbyterian, like myself ?" 
 said my mistress. 
 
 " No, madam, I am an unworthy member of the 
 Church of England ; and yet I could find a sym 
 pathizing friend in this Huguenot pastor. I learned 
 more of him than in all my life before." 
 
 " Your Protestant friends in France are like to 
 fare badly, since the revocation of the Edict of 
 
46 Through Unknown Ways ; or, 
 
 Nantes," said Mr. Morley. " That was something 
 of a safeguard to them." 
 
 " More in name than in fact," said Mr. Studley. 
 " It seems as though they could hardly be worse 
 off, and yet I suppose they may be." 
 
 " Mr. Evelyn was telling me a sad story of the 
 cruelties practised toward the French Protest 
 ants," observed Lady Clarenham. " He says he 
 had it from a sure hand. It is strange that nothing 
 about it hath appeared in the Gazette. 
 
 " Not so very strange, when you consider who 
 hath the ordering of these matters," said Mr. Mor 
 ley. " Has your ladyship heard who is to be the 
 new chief justice? Even no other than Mr. Jef 
 freys." 
 
 " Impossible ! that wretch ! " said my lady, with 
 some heat. 
 
 " Tis said so by the best authorities." 
 
 " Heaven help us ! Where are we drifting to ? " 
 said my Lady Clarenham ; and then, catching (or 
 so I fancied) a warning glance from Mr. Studley, 
 she changed the conversation by asking my mis 
 tress to allow me to come and give her a visit. 
 Lady Corbet was so far wrought upon by her 
 visitor s kindness, that she promised to consider 
 the matter. But I don t build at all upon it. 
 
 March 10. 
 
 Tis really true that Mr. Jeffreys is made chief 
 justice. Mr. Baxter brought us the news. He 
 augurs ill from the appointment of such a man, 
 
Mrs. Studley^s Diary. 47 
 
 and no wonder. Mr. Morley says the aspect of 
 the court is greatly changed: all is decent and 
 sober, at least outwardly ; and the old throng of 
 gamesters, singers, buffoons, and the like, find no 
 entertainment any more at Whitehall. Mr. Mor 
 ley still keeps his place ; but he has asked, and had 
 the promise of, a troop of horse. He says his 
 Majesty commended his desire of active service, 
 and will place him under his old commander, 
 Col. Kirke. I don t know whether to be glad 
 or sorry. I am pleased with his good fortune, of 
 course ; but I shall miss him if he goes, and I 
 have so few pleasures. I said something about 
 his going away to Mrs. Williams. 
 
 " I am glad on t with all my heart," said she. 
 
 " You do not like him, and yet he is very good- 
 natured and pleasing." 
 
 " Too pleasing," she answered. " The truth is 
 not in him. See you not, my child, how careless 
 he is in his statements, how he exaggerates ? He 
 can scarce repeat a story from a book as it is, 
 without making some addition of his own. I 
 would he had staid among the Moors, before he 
 ever came here, with his fine speeches, to turn silly 
 heads." 
 
 " He has not turned mine, if that is what you 
 mean," said I, feeling my cheeks burn. 
 
 " I am not so sure of that," said she ; " I would 
 I were. My dear Dolly, let me beg you to be 
 careful in this matter. Mr. Morley is not the man 
 to make you happy, even if he thought seriously 
 
48 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 of marrying you, which I greatly doubt, for I think 
 him altogether mercenary ; and he may compromise 
 you seriously before you are aware. Be not angry, 
 now, but tell me, have you not met him more than 
 once in your morning walks ? " 
 
 " It was only an accident, if I did," I answered. 
 " You don t think I would go out purposely to 
 meet a man in secret, Mrs. Williams? What do 
 you take me for ? " 
 
 " For an innocent child, who knows naught of 
 the ways of the world, and should therefore be 
 content to be guided, my dear," said Mrs. Wil 
 liams. " I think no ill of you, Dolly, but I must 
 needs warn you. A young maid s fair fame is like 
 the ermine, which, they say, dies of a stain on its 
 white fur. Suppose my lady should learn from 
 some one that you had met Mr. Morley in the 
 park?" 
 
 " Suppose you go and tell her," said I, too angry 
 to keep any measure in my words. "Then she 
 might turn me out, and you could have her old 
 gowns all to yourself." And with that I ran away 
 to my own room to have a good cry. I am 
 ashamed of myself already for answering so my 
 good old friend, the only friend I have in the 
 world almost, and who hath never showed me 
 aught but kindness. I believe she is right, too, 
 so far as these meetings are concerned ; and I am 
 resolved there shall be no more of them, though 
 it breaks my heart. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 49 
 
 March 12. 
 
 I have made it up with Mrs. Williams, and asked 
 her pardon, and have promised her to give Mr. 
 Morley no more meetings. I must say she was 
 very kind and motherly. She told me what I did 
 never know before, that she had once had a daugh 
 ter, who died about my age, and says she, " I verily 
 believe of a broken heart, though the doctors called 
 it a consumption." And then she told me how the 
 poor thing had been led by a fine gentleman to 
 think he meant to marry her, though he had noth 
 ing in his mind but the amusement of an idle hour. 
 
 " God mercifully preserved her from sin and 
 shame, and then more mercifully still, as I now 
 think, took her home to himself," said she, weep 
 ing ~ and I wept with her. 
 
 March 24. 
 
 The king and queen crowned yesterday. Much 
 murmuring at the omission of the procession ; the 
 king, it seems, choosing rather to spend the money 
 on jewels for his wife. The coronation rites very 
 much shortened, there being no communion. I 
 wonder how he, being a Papist, would consent to 
 be crowned by a heretic archbishop, whose orders 
 he must regard as altogether void and schismati- 
 cal ; and to join in worship, which, according to 
 his notions, must be stark blasphemy. 
 
 The Papists are everywhere raising their heads. 
 Mass is publicly said at Whitehall and other places. 
 On Easter Day there was a grand celebration, at 
 which many great lords attended ; but the Lords 
 
50 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 Ormond and Halifax remained in the ante-cham 
 ber. 
 
 We had all this great news and much more from 
 Mr. Morley, who gave us a visit with Ursula 
 Robertson and her father. He has not been here 
 before in some days ; but from things that came 
 out it seems he hath been visiting Ursula more 
 than once, and even contrived that she should 
 have a peep at the king and queen yesterday. 
 
 "But you could not go in your mourning," said 
 I ; for she wears the deepest sables, like a young 
 widow. 
 
 " I left them off for the nonce," said she. " There 
 was no harm in that." 
 
 " No harm, perhaps, but I should not have done 
 it," I answered. 
 
 " Of course }^ou wouldn t," she answered mock 
 ingly. " We all know you are the pattern of pro 
 priety and prudence and all the rest. . Wait till 
 you are tried, that is all." 
 
 " I am not like to be tried in any such way," I 
 answered. At that moment my lady called Ursula 
 to her side to take out a knot in her netting, and 
 Mr. Morley whispered in my ear, 
 
 " If I am killed in the wars, Mrs. Dolly, won t 
 you wear mourning for me ? " 
 
 " We shall see when the time comes," I an 
 swered lightly, though my heart was beating so it 
 almost choked me. " You have not gone to the 
 wars yet." 
 
 " But I am like to go at any time, if this rnad 
 
Mrs. Studley^s Diary. 51 
 
 Duke of Monmouth gives us the trouble that peo 
 ple think is likely; and it would be a comfort to 
 me, lying on the bloody battle-field awaiting death, 
 to think that my Dolly s bright eyes would weep 
 for me." 
 
 " You ought to be thinking of better things," I 
 rejoined ; and then my lady interrupted me, by 
 asking some question about the standing army 
 that men say is to be formed. 
 
 " Tis but a piece of rumor as yet, madam," 
 answered Mr. Morley. " I do not think any steps 
 have been taken in regard to it. I can only say, 
 I hope with all my heart it is true. The defence 
 of this nation should not be intrusted to country 
 squires, and to rustics and cobblers who hardly 
 know their right hand from their left." 
 
 " And what will Parliament say to that, think 
 you ? A standing army hath ever been a bugbear, 
 you know." 
 
 "I believe the incoming Parliament is not like 
 to offer much resistance to the king s will in that 
 or any other matter," answered Mr. Morley. " I 
 may say this much is quite true, that an army is 
 to be formed, and I am going down to Scotland on 
 some business concerning it to-morrow: so I shall 
 not see you again in some time." 
 
 My heart sank at these words. I have not seen 
 much of Mr. Morley lately; but then I knew he 
 was in town, and might drop in at any minute. 
 And to think of his going away so far, and to that 
 barbarous and rebellious country. I was ashamed 
 
52 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 of my emotion, however, and made a great effort 
 to restrain myself, especially as I saw Ursula look 
 ing at me. As we parted, Mr. Morley took an 
 opportunity to whisper to me, 
 
 " Will you not be in the park to-morrow morn 
 ing, Dolly ? It will be the last time, mayhap, that 
 we shall ever meet." 
 
 I assented almost without thinking, and now I 
 almost wish I had not. I promised Mrs. Williams 
 I would never do so again, and dear mother ever 
 taught me that a promise was most sacred. I am 
 sure, too, mother would say Mrs. Williams was 
 right. Oh, dear, never was poor girl so hard be 
 stead ! If only my dear mother had lived, or Mr. 
 Harpe had not cheated us so ! I can t help it. It 
 is not my fault if I can t be good. Nobody could 
 be open and true with such a mistress as I have. 
 And I must see Mr. Morley once more. It will 
 only be for once, and then I will live like a nun. 
 
 April 3. 
 
 But I did not see him, after all. My lady must 
 needs have a fit of cramps about four in the morn 
 ing. I believe in my soul it was but a fit of indi 
 gestion, caused by eating too much lobster for her 
 supper ; but it was bad enough to call up the whole 
 household, and keep us all busy for three or four 
 hours. She really was very ill, and I believe both 
 Mrs. Williams and the doctor were very much 
 alarmed. However, she got better toward night, 
 but too late to do me any good. Ursula and her 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 53 
 
 father came to see her in the evening, and Ursula 
 sat with me in the ante-chamber while her father 
 went in to see his sister-in-law. 
 
 "Mr. Morley is gone," said she, after we had 
 talked a little about indifferent matters. 
 
 " So I suppose," said I coolly. Whatever I felt, 
 I was not going to betray myself to her. 
 
 "Are you not sorry?" she asked me. 
 
 " Rather," I said. " He was a pleasant gentle 
 man, and was always coming in with some bit of 
 news; and beside, my lady liked him, and he kept 
 her in a good humor, which was so much clear 
 gain to me. Yes, on the whole, I am very sorry 
 he has gone." 
 
 " Would not you be sorry if he did not come 
 back ? " she asked. 
 
 " Why, of course I should. Why should I want 
 the poor man to be killed? But, you know, he 
 may stay away for other reasons," I returned. 
 " He may find some fair Scottish lassie with a 
 good fortune to her back, and marry her." 
 
 Ursula shut her lips tight, and shook her head. 
 " I don t believe it," said she. " Heiresses are not 
 so plenty north of the Tweed; arid besides But 
 it boots not talking. Dolly, do you know whether 
 my aunt has made her will ? " 
 
 " I don t think she has," I answered. " She 
 talks about it sometimes, and I know Mrs. Wil 
 liams has urged her to settle her estate ; but, when 
 it comes to the point, she always says there is time 
 enough." 
 
54 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " She was very ill this morning, was she not ? " 
 
 " Yes, very. We thought she would die, for a 
 while." 
 
 " And then she must leave all her money, that 
 she worships so, behind her," said Ursula in a 
 musing tone. " Dolly, it is a hard thing to die, 
 isn t it ? " 
 
 "I don t know; I never tried it," said I flip 
 pantly enough, for I was in a mood to say any 
 thing. I thought afterward that it was a wicked 
 and presumptuous thing to say. Of course, it 
 must depend on what one s life has been. Poor 
 little Emma did not find it hard when the time 
 came, nor m}*- mother. They had no fear at all, 
 I suppose because they were so religious, and 
 I don t believe Mr. Baxter fears death. But my 
 lady is very religious, too, and yet she is dread 
 fully afraid of death. I do believe she thought 
 herself in danger, for she has been wonderfully 
 kind to all of us since her illness; and the day 
 before yesterday, when my Lady Clarenham came 
 to ask for a little visit from me, she graciously 
 gave me leave for three days. I never was more 
 surprised in my life. I was glad of any change, 
 for this house has become an intolerable prison 
 for me. 
 
 And I must say I enjoyed my stay very much, 
 more than I would have thought possible. My 
 Lady Clarenham treated me as an equal, and had 
 Mrs. Patty, her little grand-niece, to meet me. 
 She is grown a fine young lady, but is just as 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 55 
 
 sweet and simple as she used to be when I was 
 her school-mother. We shared the same room, 
 and as we were undressing I said to her, 
 
 " You are more careful than you used to be, 
 Patty. You do not need me to look after your 
 things, and to see that your bodice is laced prop 
 erly." 
 
 " Ah, I used to be a sad slattern in those days, 
 and sadly lazy, too ! Do you remember how I 
 used to hate my needle and my netting-pin?" 
 
 "And do you like them any better now?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes, I do," she answered, in her old serious 
 tone. " One day my aunt Clarenham said to me, 
 4 Patty, if you would go at your work with a fixed 
 resolution to do your very best at it, instead of 
 thinking how soon you can finish it, you would 
 learn to like it. So I thought I would try, if 
 only to please my good aunt; and I really did 
 find her words true. And, besides, Dorothy," 
 she added, with a sweet look in her blue eyes, 
 "you know, when I was confirmed, I had to do 
 some serious thinking ; and I made up my mind it 
 was not right to hate what it was, and always will 
 be, my duty to do. So I asked God to make me 
 feel differently about it ; and I am sure he did, for 
 I like it now very well." 
 
 Patty is a sweet little creature and always was, 
 but I am not sure it is right to pray about such 
 things as liking one s work. What she said put 
 me on thinking of the time when I was myself 
 
56 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 confirmed, and the resolutions I made. I wrote 
 them all down, I remember, but I don t know what 
 has become of them. But I can t help it. If I 
 were situated like Patty, or if my mistress were 
 like my Lady Clarenham, I could be as good as 
 anybody. 
 
 Certainly my lady makes her house very agree 
 able to all her family. She sees but little com 
 pany, and that mostly of a grave and serious kind, 
 like Mr. and Mrs. Evelyn, who were with her one 
 day, in deep mourning for their eldest daughter, 
 who died lately of the small-pox. Lady Claren 
 ham says she was a very accomplished lady, deeply 
 religious, and a pattern in all things, such as 
 she hardly ever saw the like. Her parents are 
 afflicted, of course, yet show a wonderful patience 
 and resignation under their loss. They seem so 
 certain of seeing her again. 
 
 Mr. Studley is not here at present, having gone 
 to my Lady Clarenhain s place in Devonshire to 
 do some business for her. My lady cannot say 
 enough in his praise, but says she fears she shall 
 not keep him long. She tells me his father is a 
 great enemy of all religion, and is very angry with 
 his son for his serious ways of thinking ; so that 
 he hath really persecuted the poor young man. 
 
 " I really believe his great object in putting my 
 cousin with me was to divert him from his religion ; 
 but, if so, he has failed of his object," said she. 
 " Edward has wrought sucli a revolution in my 
 household as I could never have believed possible. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 57 
 
 Not the lowest groom or scullion will venture to 
 say an ill word before him, and he hath saved me 
 a great deal by his economy." 
 
 " You are so rich, madam, I should hardly think 
 that would be needful," I ventured to say. 
 
 " Tis true, I am rich," she answered kindly ; 
 "but, though I had the wealth of the Indies at 
 my disposal, I should not feel it right to waste a 
 crumb that might help one of God s needy crea 
 tures. We are but stewards of what he gives us, 
 sweetheart, and must answer it to him if we waste 
 his goods." 
 
 That is a very different way of saving from my 
 mistress s. I wonder if that is the reason my Lady 
 Clarenham lives so quietly, and sees so little com 
 pany. It was very ungrateful in me, but I confess 
 I was a trifle disappointed. I did want one little 
 peep at the gay world of which I used to hear 
 from Mr. Moiiey. Ah, me ! shall I ever see him 
 again ? 
 
 Certainly Lady Clarenham is very different 
 from my mistress. I don t think it can be the 
 form of religion altogether, either ; for there are 
 Mr. and Mrs. Pendergast, as poor as the sparrows, 
 yet they find means to help poor Jane Gaskell, and 
 others of their flock, who are worse off than them 
 selves. And my mistress is as religious in her 
 way as Lady Clarenham in hers. To be sure, she 
 does not go to prayers every morning ; but she reads 
 nothing but good books, and dreadfully dull, as 
 I know to my cost, and hath all the points of 
 
58 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 doctrine at her fingers ends. But, somehow, her 
 religion does not make her happy, like Lady Clar- 
 enham s and poor Mr. Evelyn s. I wish I were like 
 them, for I am sure I need comfort badly enough. 
 My heart is like to break at times. And to think I 
 could not even bid him farewell ! What must he 
 have thought of me ? 
 
 Well, I staid with my lady three pleasant days, 
 and then she brought me home. At parting, she 
 gave me a purse with three gold pieces in it, and 
 a pretty equipage for my pocket. She also gave 
 me her address, and bade me apply to her if ever 
 I needed a friend. 
 
 So here I am at home again, and I almost wish 
 I had never been away. My lady is in her worst 
 humor, and frets and scolds from morning till 
 night. She is able to be about the house a little 
 now, and hath taken the keys into her own keep 
 ing. The consequence i& that we hardly have 
 enougli to eat. The cook is gone to live with 
 Mr. Pepys, a gentleman of the navy, friend to Mr. 
 Evelyn whom I met at my Lady Clarenham s; and 
 Mary Mathews lias given warning. She hath 
 staid longer than any maid we ever had since 
 my coming, and I am sorry to have her leave. 
 
 May 20. 
 
 I have been very unwell, with a kind of low 
 ague ; so that I kept my bed for two or three weeks, 
 and my room still longer. I had no spirit for my 
 writing or any thing else, and almost wished I 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 59 
 
 might die, almost, but not quite. I can t get 
 over my dread of that dreadful unknown country 
 and that awful Judge. I almost wish I had no 
 religion at all, like Mr. Morley, who is wholly a 
 sceptic in such matters. But even he said once he 
 thought devotion becoming in a woman. 
 
 I am about now, and waiting on my lady again. 
 I don t see what is to come to her. I think she 
 grows to grudge the very air she breathes. Mrs. 
 Williams remonstrated with her about our diet, I 
 know; and since then we have a little more, but of 
 the plainest and coarsest, brown bread and broth, 
 broth and brown bread, with a dish of dried ling 
 now and then for a change. My appetite is 
 squeamish since my illness ; and I think I should 
 starve outright, if Mary Mathews, who hath con 
 sented to stay awhile, did not now and then cook 
 me some little mess and bring it to my room. 
 
 May 21. 
 
 Here has been a fine to do, and my lady is like 
 a bear robbed of her cubs. I was reading to her 
 to-day the news-letter which Mr. Robertson sends 
 her, when Mary announced Dr. Bates and Mr. 
 Pendergast. Now, Dr. Bates is a very great light 
 among the Presbyterians. He is really and truly 
 a very fine gentleman, though a bit pompous and 
 stiff, and I do believe a very good man. My lady 
 received him with great courtesy, and was all 
 smiles, which changed quickly to frowns when she 
 heard his errand. It seems an information hath 
 
60 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 been filed against Mr. Baxter for some reflections 
 against Government, printed in his late commen 
 tary on the New Testament. He is to be brought 
 before that dreadful chief justice in a few days, 
 and the Presbyterians are raising a fund for his 
 defence, and for the comfort of his family should 
 he be put in prison. Dr. Bates had been collect- 
 ting the subscriptions, and was now come to Lady 
 Corbet on the same errand. 
 
 " You will doubtless feel it a privilege, madam, 
 to contribute your share for the defence of this 
 excellent and self-sacrificing man, who hath so long 
 been a standard-bearer in our ranks, " said Dr. 
 Bates, in that full, pure, melodious voice of his, 
 which hath earned him the name of " silver- 
 tongued Bates." I saw the corners of Mr. Pen- 
 dergast s mouth twitch, and his eyes glisten with 
 a smile. All his hardships and stern beliefs have 
 not taken the fun out of him. 
 
 " And what is the trouble with Mr. Baxter, that 
 he must go a-begging at his age ? " asked my lady 
 sharply. 
 
 I saw Dr. Bates s color begin to rise a little ; but 
 he restrained himself, and in the same courteous 
 tone repeated the matter from the beginning. 
 
 " It was very foolish of Mr. Baxter to embroil 
 himself with the Government just at this time, 
 when evetybody thinks his Majesty will soon 
 grant a universal toleration," was my lady s 
 comment. " Methinks he might have had a little 
 patience, instead of getting into this broil." 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 61 
 
 " His Majesty will never grant any such tolera 
 tion ; or, if he should, it will be on condition that 
 the same be extended to the Papists, and I think 
 we should hardly accept that," said Dr. Bates. 
 " As to Mr. Baxter, the thing is done now ; and you 
 know him well enough, madam, to be aware that 
 he would not take back what he believed to be 
 true, if the stake lay straight in his path. There 
 are lawyers ready to defend him, but of course 
 expenses must be met." 
 
 The doctor grew more emphatic as my lady 
 hesitated ; and he went on to set forth Mr. Baxter s 
 good qualities in a way that did him honor, I am 
 sure. I do like a man that can frankly allow 
 merit in another. Mr. Pendergast supported him 
 ably and boldly. My lady hemmed and hawed 
 and took snuff, about the only luxury she allows 
 herself, and at last asked what her brother Rob 
 ertson had given. 
 
 "Twenty pounds," answered the doctor brief 
 ly. I could see his patience was waxing thread 
 bare. 
 
 " Twenty pounds ! " almost screamed my lady. 
 44 Twenty pounds, and he owing me three hundred 
 pounds this very minute, and only paying me eight 
 per cent when I could easily get ten ! " 
 
 " Your brother-in-law is a man of a liberal spirit, 
 as I remember your husband was," observed Dr. 
 Bates. 
 
 " Liberal, quotha ! Yes, liberal enough. I might 
 have been thousands of pounds better off at this 
 
62 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 minute if he had not been quite so liberal. Charity 
 begins at home, to my thinking." 
 
 " That is where we want you to begin it, here 
 in your own house," said Mr. Pendergast. 
 
 I could not forbear smiling. 
 
 "Dolly, why are you grinning there like a 
 Cheshire cat ? " demanded my lady, turning the 
 vials of her wrath on me, as usual. Then turning 
 again : " I dare say, you, Mr. Pendergast, have 
 given of your wealth." 
 
 " I could not give of my wealth, madam ; and 
 so, like the Macedonian Christians, I had to give 
 of my poverty," said the little man, speaking with 
 as much dignity as a bishop. He is not to be set 
 down, if he is little and poor. My lady seemed to 
 think she had gone far enough. 
 
 "People have an exaggerated notion of my 
 wealth," said she, in a more civil tone. " Tis a 
 great plague to be accounted rich. Every beggar 
 and every subscription - paper come to one. In 
 these times of shifting and changing " She 
 paused a moment, and the doctor took her up 
 sharply. 
 
 " In these times of shifting and changing, and, 
 you may add, of dying, madam, would you not do 
 well to place at least a part of your wealth out on 
 good security ? " 
 
 " Oh, I always do that ! " s&id my lady com 
 placently. " I always look out for good security, 
 and that is one reason why I don t think my 
 brother has been wise in this matter. Mr. Baxter 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 63 
 
 is an old man, and I don t believe either he or his 
 family will ever be able to pay back what you 
 propose to lend them." 
 
 " Pay it back ! " exclaimed Dr. Bates, his eyes 
 fairly flashing fire through his glasses ; " do you 
 think, madam " And then, as it were, biting 
 off his words, as Mr. Pendergast touched his arm, 
 he stood silent, while the other minister explained 
 that the sum collected was not to be a loan, but a 
 gift. My lady twisted and turned, hemmed and 
 hawed, and finally said, though she thought Mr. 
 Baxter had been unwise, she supposed she must 
 give her mite for his defence. I thought Dr. Bates s 
 spectacle frames must have melted in the light 
 nings that flashed from behind them ; but he did 
 not speak. I think he was afraid to trust himself. 
 Mr. Pendergast took up the word. 
 
 " Very good, madam ; you talk of your mite. 
 You know the poor widow s two mites were her 
 day s income. We will be content with a similar 
 gift from you ; that is, a day s income." 
 
 " You will ! " squalled my lady again. (Squall 
 is not a pretty word, but her voice really did sound 
 like Lady Clarenham s parrot). " A day s income, 
 indeed ! Why, that would be more than twenty 
 pounds ! A day s income, indeed, with this house 
 to keep, and taxes to pay, and idle sluts hanging 
 on me who do not earn their keeping " (this with 
 a glance at me). " A day s income, indeed! Do 
 you think I am made of money?" 
 
 " I do not know what you are made of, madam," 
 
64 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 said Dr. Bates, rising, and speaking in a voice 
 which had more the ring of steel than silver. 
 " But this I can see, that you have great need to 
 examine your evidences, and make sure that you 
 are in a state of salvation. I very much fear that 
 you have neither part nor lot in the matter, and 
 that your heart is not more right in the sight of 
 God than that of Simon Magus himself." 
 
 " I don t know what you mean by speaking so to 
 me," said my lady, looking alarmed. " I am sure 
 I am a good Presbyterian, and believe the Assem 
 bly s Catechism from beginning to end." 
 
 " It is possible to hold the truth in unrighteous 
 ness," answered Dr. Bates. " A greater authority 
 than the Assembly s Catechism hath said, 4 Ye can 
 not serve God and mammon, and that 4 no covet 
 ous man who is an idolater hath any part in the 
 kingdom of God and of Christ. Come, brother 
 Pendergast, we do but waste our time here." 
 
 " You are very hard on me," said my lady, as 
 with trembling hands she extracted her purse from 
 her pocket, and drew out something. " There, I 
 will give you that, and perhaps more if it is needed ; 
 but I don t believe it will be, especially as you 
 say so many of the established clergy stand by 
 Mr. Baxter." (Dr. Bates had told us this, though 
 I forgot to put it down in the proper place). 
 " Dolly, why don t you see the gentlemen out ? " 
 
 I was glad to escape, for I was boiling over. 
 To think of that kind old man, her own life-long 
 friend nnd her husband s, being brought before 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 65 
 
 that dreadful Judge Jeffreys ; and she grudging a 
 few pounds for his defence. As I followed the 
 gentlemen into the ante-room, I heard Mr. Pender- 
 gast ask, 
 
 " What did she give you at last ? " 
 
 " Seven shillings," answered Dr. Bates. Then, 
 sighing : " Certainly, the old Adam will never die 
 in me till I die myself, brother. My fingers itched 
 to throw it in her face ! " 
 
 I suppose it was wicked in me, but it comforted 
 me to hear the good man make this confession. 
 He turned to me, as I entered the room, with his 
 kindly smile. " Do not trouble yourself, my dear 
 young lady. We can easily let ourselves out." 
 
 " I wanted to speak with you," said I ; and then 
 added, awkwardly enough, I dare say, " Will you 
 please give Mr. Baxter this gold piece for me ? " 
 
 The ministers looked at each other, and then at 
 me. 
 
 " But, daughter, is not this a great deal for 
 you? " asked Dr. Bates. 
 
 " It was a present to me," said I. " Mr. Baxter 
 has been very good to me, and " And here, like 
 a goose, I fell a-weeping as I thought how kindly 
 he had spoken the very last time I saw him. 
 " Please do take the money," I added, checking 
 my tears as well as I could. " Twas given me to 
 do what I like with. 
 
 "I will take it, then, and I am sure a blessing 
 will go with it," said the doctor, laying his hand 
 on my head. " May the Father of the fatherless 
 
66 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 bless thee, my child ! " Then, turning, he asked 
 Mr. Pendergast, " Does she belong to us ? " 
 
 " Not she," answered Mr. Pendergast. " I can 
 not make a Presbyterian of her; though my wife 
 and I have tried, haven t we, Dolly ? " 
 
 " I am sure you have both been very good to 
 me," I answered ; " but every one is not like you. 
 My mother was of the Church of England, and I 
 cannot leave it without better reason than I have 
 yet seen." 
 
 " Ah, well, the light may come ! " said the 
 doctor kindly. "Pray for light, my child; and, 
 once more, the God of the fatherless bless thee ! " 
 
 Mary Mathews was waiting at the door, and I 
 saw her give the doctor something. When I had 
 a chance, I asked her how much. 
 
 "Five shillings," said she shortly. "I had 
 saved it toward a Sunday gown, but my old one 
 will serve a while yet. I have not forgotten how 
 kindly Mr. Baxter spoke to me the day I was 
 crying for my poor dead sister." 
 
 "So is not a word better than a gift?" My 
 lady hath been in her worst humor all day, say 
 ing the most provoking and outrageous things, 
 and insulting both Mrs. Williams and myself 
 every time we opened our mouths. Mrs. Wil- 
 liams s Welsh blood boiled over at last, and she 
 gave her back hot and hot, ending with giving 
 warning ; whereat my lady cooled down, and pres 
 ently went into fits of the mother. She did not 
 gain much by that, for Mrs. Williams plied her 
 
Mrs. Studley^s Diary. 67 
 
 with hartshorn and burnt feathers ; and as she 
 continued winking and blinking, and pretending 
 not to see or hear, she poured into her mouth 
 a most abominable decoction of valerian and rue, 
 the very smell of which almost made me sick. 
 It brought my lady to in an instant, sputtering 
 and choking, and declaring she was poisoned, 
 and demanding what had been given her. 
 
 " Only my Lady Pendarves s cordial against 
 fits," answered Mrs. Williams, tranquil as a sum 
 mer morning ; for, having discharged her culverins 
 with such good effect, she could afford to be as 
 quiet as those same culverins when unloaded of 
 their powder. " Tis a sovereign remedy, as you 
 may see. Perhaps you had better take a little 
 more ; " and she again advanced the cup to her 
 lips. 
 
 " No, no ! I am quite well now," said my lady 
 hastily. " I should not be ill only for your and 
 Dolly s fretting me so, poor, weak creature that I 
 am ! " and with that she began to cry, but stopped 
 as she saw Mrs. Williams shaking her bottle again. 
 As for me, I was ready to die laughing ; but I can 
 always keep a sober face, if I please. 
 
 " I hope your new woman may suit you better 
 than myself," said Mrs. Williams. " I heard that 
 Mrs. Jerningham, who hath lived in my Lord Ox 
 ford s family, desires a place ; and I can bid her 
 call on you, if you please." 
 
 " Yes, a fine addition she would be to my fam 
 ily, no doubt," snapped my lady. " You are very 
 
68 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 unkind, Williams, to speak of such a thing, when 
 you know what a poor, suffering creature I am, 
 with no one to care for me since my poor husband 
 died. Dolly, take your work, and go sit in your 
 own room." 
 
 " I think Mistress Dolly had better go for a 
 little walk, since the day is so warm and fine," 
 said the pitiless Mrs. Williams. "I could give 
 her Mrs. Jerningham s address, if your ladyship 
 would like to have her call on you." 
 
 " Hold your tongue about Mrs. Jerningham. 
 Dolly, go and walk, then, and see if you can pick 
 up some news." 
 
 I went as I was bid, and was glad of the chance 
 to be in the air a little. 
 
 May 26. 
 
 Poor Mr. Baxter hath really been sentenced to 
 a fine and imprisonment. Mr. Pendergast, who 
 was present, said the old gentleman carried him 
 self like a hero all through. The trial was a 
 shameful, indecent mockery of justice. Mr. Bax 
 ter s council was not allowed to say a word in his 
 defence, and several distinguished clergymen of 
 the Church of England who tried to speak for 
 him were insulted and roared down. It is said 
 that Judge Jeffreys proposed that he should be 
 whipped at the cart s tail ; but the motion raised 
 such a murmur of indignation, even among the 
 most subservient of the courtiers and court offi 
 cials, that he dared not persist. Mr. Pendergast 
 says, that, considering the troubles in the North, 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 69 
 
 and the fears of a rising in behalf of the Duke of 
 Monmouth, the sentence is lighter than Mr. Bax 
 ter s friends had any reason to expect. 
 
 Somehow, ever since Dr. Bates was here, the 
 words of his blessing have dwelt upon mine ear. 
 " The Father of the fatherless," -it hath a lovely 
 sound. But I don t think He can be my father, 
 else he would never leave me here where I am so 
 miserable, and where I can t be good if I would. 
 
 I suppose my lady has made it up with Mrs. 
 Williams, for there is no more talk of her going 
 away. I am glad of it with all my heart. I am 
 sure I could never live here without her, and I 
 have nowhere else to go. My Lady Clarenham 
 did say something as to telling my aunt about me, 
 but I don t build on it. Tis not likely, with her 
 family, that she would care to be troubled with 
 me. But, as I said, I fancy Mrs. Williams has 
 made her own terms. She keeps the keys again, my 
 lady saying she is not able to attend to the house 
 keeping any more ; and we fare very much better 
 in consequence. She is civil enough to me before 
 Mrs. Williams, but takes it out on me behind her 
 back. However, I get more liberty than I did, 
 and take a walk every day when it is fine. 
 
 May 30. 
 
 It is said that the rebellion in Scotland is 
 quashed, and the Earl of Argyle is in prison and 
 like to lose his head. I am glad on t, I am sure ; 
 not that the poor gentleman is to lose his head, 
 
70 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 but that the rebellion is so soon put down, since 
 they say it could never have succeeded. I hope 
 they will not be too severe with the poor wretches ; 
 but those that know say that the king hath no 
 mercy in his heart. There are rumors of an inva 
 sion under the Duke of Monmouth. 
 
 This morning, walking in the park very early, 
 I like to go early, because I see no one at that 
 hour, I saw Barbara Andrews, sister to Mr. 
 Andrews, Ursula s servant that was. I have 
 always liked Bab, who is an upright, downright 
 sort of girl; but we have never been intimate. 
 She looked very pretty in her deep mourning, 
 with her fair hair, that never will lie smooth, 
 dancing in little curls about her forehead. She 
 had a basket on her arm, and told me she was 
 going to carry something to a poor body ; and, as 
 I had plenty of time, I offered to go with her. 
 
 " Have you seen Ursula lately ? " I asked of her, 
 as we walked along. I was surprised to see Bab s 
 eyes flash, and her lips curl, at the question ; for 
 though she and Ursula were as unlike as chalk 
 and cheese, and I never thought any love was lost 
 between them, yet they always got on well enough. 
 
 " She is busy, I dare say," she answered, " though 
 I should not think she need have so much to do : 
 she had her wedding-clothes ready to her hand." 
 
 "Bab, what do you mean?" I exclaimed, stand 
 ing stock-still in my amazement. " Ursula is not 
 going to be married not Ursula not so soon ? " 
 
 "Even so," said Bab. "You know if she 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 71 
 
 should wait longer the mode might change, and 
 the things go out of fashion." And with that she 
 laughed, and then fell a-weeping so bitterly, and 
 with such sobs, that I was fain to draw her to a 
 bench which stood under the shelter of some 
 bushes, and bring out my smelling-salts which mv 
 Lady Clarenham s woman gave me. Bab is not 
 one to make a great fuss. She checked herself as 
 soon as she could, and wiped her eyes. 
 
 " I am a fool, Dolly, and that is the truth. Why 
 should I care ? Only I do think she might have 
 waited the year out. 
 
 " * But two short months, not two, 
 A little month, or ere those shoes were old 
 In which she followed rny poor brother s coffin. " 
 
 I thought she was going to cry again, and strove 
 to divert her. 
 
 "Bab," said I severely, "you have been read 
 ing profane stage plays. That is out of Mr. 
 Shakspeare, I know." 
 
 " And so have you, or you wouldn t know," 
 she retorted. " But there is no harm in that play, 
 Dolly." 
 
 " I know it," I answered. " I got some of the 
 speeches by heart when I was at school. I only 
 wish I had the book now. But tell me, is Ursula 
 really going to be married, and to whom?" 
 
 " She really is, and to Mr. Jackson, her father s 
 partner." 
 
 " Bab, I can t believe it," I said. " Why, he is 
 
72 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 old enough to be her father, and a church-warden 
 to boot ! I have heard her laugh at him to his face 
 many a time." 
 
 " And perhaps you may again ; nevertheless, she 
 is going to marry him next week." 
 
 " But what possesses her ? " 
 
 "Well, if you want to know what I think, 
 Dolly, I will tell you," said Bab, rising, and taking 
 up her basket again. " I think Ursula is, as they 
 say, biting off her nose to spite her face." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " Why, she had news from Newcastle, or there 
 abouts, wherever Mr. Morley has gone that he 
 is to be married to some rich woman in that 
 place ; and I think she means to show him that she 
 does not care, and that she can be wedded as 
 soon as- he." 
 
 If my life with my mistress has done me no 
 other service, it hath at least taught me to com 
 mand myself, and to hide my feelings. 
 
 " But is she sure ? " I asked. " Twould be a 
 pity to do such a thing, and then find out that 
 it was a mistake, after all." 
 
 " I believe the news is quite true. You know 
 he is a kinsman of Ursula s on the mother s side. 
 I think she always liked Mr. Morley, even while 
 my poor brother was alive; but Henry was so 
 blind, and he loved Ursula. I tell you what it is, 
 Dolly, I could almost find it in my heart to be 
 thankful that he hath escaped her hands. As to 
 Mr. Morley, my opinion is that they would have 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 73 
 
 been well matched ; but for all his hanging round 
 her, and sending her presents, I don t think he 
 cared a pin for her." 
 
 " I must hurry home, Bab," said I, glancing at 
 the clock. " I shall be late ; and my lady will bite 
 my head off if I am not at prayers to read her a 
 chapter out of Chronicles, all full of hard names. 
 I wish those who made the Bible had left out that 
 part of it." 
 
 " Don t speak so of the Holy Word, Dolly dear!" 
 said Bab seriously, and gently detaining me a 
 moment. " I could show you some lovely things 
 even among those same hard names." 
 
 " You speak of the Bible as if you really loved 
 it, Bab. Do you ? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes, I do ; and so would you if you thought of 
 it as I do," answered Bab. " Think of it as a 
 letter from a loving Father writ to you, yes, just 
 as much to you as if you were the writer s only 
 child. Then you will love it, and find comfort in 
 it, as I do." 
 
 " You are good, and I am not," said I ; " and, 
 besides, I can t believe that God loves me, when 
 he lets me live with my mistress. But I must go, 
 Bab. Do come and see me sometimes. My mis 
 tress lies abed all the afternoon, and we could have 
 some comfort." 
 
 " I will," said Bab ; and as she kissed me she 
 whispered, " Dolly dear, do try to acquaint your 
 self with Him, and be at peace. He can comfort 
 you, and he will : only try him." 
 
74 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 Bab must know, for she has had a great deal of 
 sorrow in her short life ; but then she hath never 
 been tried as I have. I was home in good time ; 
 but by ill luck my mistress had risen earlier than 
 usual, and of course I came in for a storm. To 
 pacify her, I told her I had heard a piece of news 
 from Barbara Andrews. 
 
 " Yes, you are a fine pair of giglets, you and 
 Bab Andrews. Mark my words, that girl will 
 never come to any good. Her father lets her read 
 romances and play-books, and poetry too." 
 
 " Only the Countess of Pembroke s 4 Arcadia, 
 and Mr. Shakspeare s plays," said I, " and Mr. 
 Spenser s poems." 
 
 " You let me catch you with any of them, and 
 see what you will get," was the grim response. 
 u I wonder what his dear friend Mr. Baxter would 
 say to Mr. Andrews, if he knew that." 
 
 " Mr. Andrews gave fifty pounds to Mr. Baxter s 
 defence," said I. I felt just like exasperating her, 
 somehow. It seemed a relief to the smart of my 
 own feelings. 
 
 " Oh, that is your great news, is it ? Then here 
 is a piece for you : A fool and his money is soon 
 parted." 
 
 " I am glad you do not think me a fool," said I 
 demurely ; " but that was not the news I meant, 
 for I did not hear that from Bab. She is not one 
 to sound a trumpet before her, or her father either. 
 Shall I get the books and read to you now ? " 
 
 " Tell me this great news of yours first : I see 
 
Mrs. Studley^s Diary. 75 
 
 you are bursting with it," said she more good- 
 naturedly. " And don t you vex me, Dolly : you 
 may be old and lonely yourself, sometime." 
 
 I do wish she would always be kind : she can 
 be so nice when she pleases. Of course I told her 
 all about it. 
 
 " Ursula is a shrewd girl ; she hath an eye to 
 the main chance, I see," was her comment. " Mr. 
 Jackson hath a great interest in the business, and 
 is rich beside. She is doing well for herself." 
 
 " She hath lost no time about it," observed Mrs. 
 Williams. " Why tis not two months since poor 
 Mr. Andrews died ; but mayhap she is afraid her 
 wedding-clothes may go out of fashion." 
 
 " Well, well, tis the way of the world," said 
 my lady. " I wish Dolly may do as well for her 
 self. I must look out a match for you, child. 
 There, get the books and read." 
 
 I could not but think of Bab s words about 
 finding nice things in the Book of Chronicles 
 when I came across the story of Jabez, whose 
 mother called him so because she bare him with 
 sorrow. I wonder what the poor woman s grief 
 was. Anyhow, I hope she lived to see her son s 
 good fortune. If God would only hear me like 
 that! 
 
 After prayers, and when my lady had taken her 
 netting, she began to talk about Ursula again, still 
 in high good-humor; and she was yet on the theme 
 when Ursula herself was announced. She was in 
 black, but had left off her veil; and "going to be 
 
76 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 married," was written all over her. She came to 
 tell her dear aunt a piece of news, she said, which 
 no doubt would surprise her; but she thought 
 dear aunt would understand her motives, and not 
 misconstrue her as some had done who should 
 know better. 
 
 u Oh, dear aunt knows all about it ! " said my 
 lady, smiling maliciously. " Your news is piper s 
 news, niece. You are going to marry Mr. Jackson, 
 like a sensible girl. Pray, when does the great 
 event take place ? " 
 
 " To-day week," answered Ursula, rather shortly. 
 Nobody likes to have their grand news forestalled. 
 And then, more amiably, " How did you hear the 
 story ? " 
 
 " Dolly had it from Bab Andrews, this morning," 
 answered my lady. 
 
 "Oh! and I dare say Bab had plenty to say about 
 it," sneered Ursula. " I must say, she and the 
 whole family have treated me very unkindly. But 
 I did not suppose from the way I have heard her 
 talk, that she was any great friend of yours, Dolly. 
 I heard her say only yesterday However, I 
 don t want to make mischief." 
 
 " You won t," I answered shortly. " I know 
 Bab, and I know she is not one who hath two 
 sides to her tongue." 
 
 " And so Mr. Jackson is to be the happy man," 
 said my lady. " He is rather old for you, isn t he ? " 
 
 " Better an old man s darling than a young 
 man s slave, perhaps Mrs. Ursula thinks," said 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 77 
 
 Mrs. Williams ; and then, as Ursula bestowed a 
 gracious smile in recompense for the proverb, she 
 added, "But old men have slaves sometimes as 
 well as young ones." 
 
 " Mr. Jackson is not an old man ; he is not yet 
 sixty," said my lady. " Never mind them, Ursula, 
 they are vexed because it is not their chance. 
 But I did not think it would be Mr. Jackson. 
 What has become of your fine captain, with his 
 gold lace and his feathers and his courtier s airs 
 and graces ? " 
 
 " My father would never hear of my marrying 
 a soldier, and one who has not a broad piece, said 
 Ursula; "and besides," she added, glancing at me, 
 " Capt. Morley is to marry some one at New 
 castle, some rich coalman s daughter." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " said my lady. " You did not 
 hear that news, Dolly ? " 
 
 " Yes, madam," I answered tranquilly, though 
 I felt as if I were in a nightmare, " Bab told me 
 that, too." 
 
 " And when did you hear as much ? " asked my 
 lady, turning to Ursula. 
 
 " About two weeks ago." 
 
 " Oh ! " said my lady, with ill-natured signifi 
 cance. " And how long have you been engaged 
 to Mr. Jackson ? " 
 
 " It is not Mr. Jackson s fault if we have not 
 been married, not to say engaged, for a year, 
 madam," answered Ursula. " I must say I am 
 thankful that Providence hath saved me from mar- 
 
78 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 rying a man I never could really like, to give me 
 one that I can both respect and love." 
 
 The hypocrite ! She and my lady are enough to 
 make one disbelieve in Providence altogether. 
 And to talk so about Mr. Andrews, the good man, 
 a thousand times too good for her, I am sure. 
 She went away after a little; and my lady, having 
 been pleasant for an hour, hath been as cross as a 
 bear for the rest of the day, to make amends. But 
 I don t care. I don t believe anybody was ever 
 so unhappy as I am. " Acquaint thyself with 
 Him, and be at peace," Bab says. But I don t 
 know where to find him, and I have no one to 
 help me. 
 
 June 2. 
 
 " Sorrow may endure for a night, but joy cometh 
 in the morning." I can t tell where I read that, 
 but I think it must be in the Bible. I was com 
 ing home from my walk this morning when I met 
 a gentleman whom I had seen in Mr. Morley s 
 company once or twice. He saluted me and asked 
 if this was not Mrs. Dolly Corbet. I courtesied, 
 and answered yes. 
 
 " Then I have a packet for your hands, fair 
 lady," said he. He placed in my hands a little par 
 cel, bowed again, and turned away. The packet 
 was inscribed, "For the hands of Mrs. Dorothy 
 Corbet;" and it was sealed with scented wax and 
 a band of blue floss silk, as the fashion is now. I 
 had never seen Mr. Morley s hand, but somehow 
 I knew it in a moment. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 79 
 
 It was not till afternoon, however, that I got a 
 chance to open it. It contained a ribbon of plaid 
 silk and a letter from Mr. Morley. Such a loving, 
 kind letter ! I have worn it next my heart all 
 day; and, having it there, I could afford to smile 
 at all Ursula s hints and taunts about wearing the 
 willow and so on. I would rather wear the wil 
 low than be fed on thistles by such an old donkey 
 as Mr. Jackson. He called here with Ursula, and 
 it was sickening to see his spruce, lover-like airs. 
 I wonder she can endure him. Such a contrast 
 to poor Mr. Andrews, who was a man any one 
 might love and honor ! 
 
 June 8. 
 
 We all went to Ursula s wedding yesterday. 
 Even my lady would go ; and she gave Ursula a 
 present of a lace whisk which 1 believe used to be 
 poor Lady Jem s, at least I saw her in the morn 
 ing searching in the great chest of drawers where 
 she keeps all those things. She never uses any of 
 them herself, and I wish she would give them to 
 me ; but there is no danger of that. I saw Ursula 
 showing the whisk to Mr. Jackson, with some 
 slighting remark, to which he answered rather 
 sharply, 
 
 "Don t you know better than that, Ursula? It 
 is old Flanders lace, worth its weight in diamonds, 
 almost. You could easily sell it for twenty gui 
 neas to-morrow." After which she treated it with 
 more respect. 
 
 There were many guests at the wedding, and 
 
80 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 they were all pretty merry, though there was no 
 dancing nor cards. But I don t see, for my part, 
 why blindman s buff and the like are any better 
 than a good country dance. I am sure there is 
 a deal more romping about them. The couple 
 were married at St. Margaret s, where Mr. Jackson 
 hath a fine pew all lined with damask. I suppose 
 Ursula will go to church with him, of course, but I 
 don t think she will mind. I believe Bab Andrews 
 would cut her hand off before she would wed any 
 one who should take her away from Mr. Pender- 
 gast s congregation. And I must say I think she 
 is right. I do always say, if one s religion means 
 any thing, it means every thing. 
 
 Mr. arid Mrs. Jackson went to their own house 
 from her father s. It is a very good house, with a 
 court, where grow two or three trees and a large 
 laylock, now loaded with flowers. Methought the 
 ancient serving-man and his wife, who have kept 
 house for Mr. Jackson so long, did look but sourly 
 on the bride, and gave her a cool welcome ; but the 
 house was in apple-pie order, and the cake and 
 spiced wine of the best quality. My mistress grew 
 weary, and came away before all the ceremony 
 was done; and I was not sorry. 
 
 " Well, all is over, and my niece well settled in 
 life," said my lady, yawning, as we helped her to 
 undress. " I hope she was pleased with the pres 
 ent I gave her." 
 
 " She had a right to be," said I maliciously, I 
 believe. " Mr. Jackson told her it could be sold 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 81 
 
 to-morrow for twenty guineas. He said it was old 
 Flanders lace, worth its weight in diamonds." 
 
 My lady turned fairly green with vexation. 
 
 " Are you sure ? " said she : " twenty guineas ! 
 If I had known that! But I am the most un 
 lucky woman in the world. Every one robs me. 
 Twenty guineas ! " 
 
 " Well, your ladyship need not grudge it, since 
 it went to your own niece," observed Mrs. Wil 
 liams. " I could have told you as much, for I have 
 often seen such lace when I was abroad with my 
 former mistress ; but I thought you selected it on 
 purpose to do honor to the bride." 
 
 My lady made a grimace, but she is mighty civil 
 to Mrs. Williams nowadays. This morning she 
 has been rummaging the great chest of drawers, 
 and has got out a pile of lace for me to look over 
 and mend for her. I don t mind. I love to work 
 on lace, and, thanks to Mrs. Price, I know all the 
 stitches; but somehow, as I turned over the beau 
 tiful frail fabrics, my heart has been full of sorrow 
 for the poor pretty lady who used to wear them, 
 and whom they have outlasted. Bab Andrews 
 came in this afternoon, and brought my lady a fine 
 cream cheese, part of a hamper she had from her 
 sister in the country ; and my lady graciously asked 
 her to stay and make a visit. Bab is even more 
 skilful than myself at lace-work ; and as we looked 
 over the things, and laid them out on a piece of old 
 colored silk to show the patterns, I told her some 
 of the thoughts that were running in my mind. 
 
82 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " Doesn t it seem strange," said I, " that these 
 spider-webs should have outlasted the one who 
 used to take delight in them ? They are as good 
 as ever ; but what is left of her, save her monu 
 ment in the church, and the picture of her down 
 stairs in the withdrawing-room ? " 
 
 " You talk like a Sadducee, Dolly," said Bab. 
 " Don t you know poor Lady Jemima is just as 
 much alive as ever she was, only not here ? " 
 
 " I suppose she is, and yet it does not seem so," 
 I answered. " When a person is dead, it seems as 
 though that was the end. Does it not to you ? " 
 
 "No, indeed!" she answered, with emphasis. 
 " My dear mother and another friend are as 
 much alive to me as ever they were, only I can t 
 see them," she added sadly. " O Dolly, my heart 
 grows so hungry at times ! It seems as if I could 
 not wait. But I shall be satisfied sometime." 
 
 "And till then?" 
 
 " Till then I must even work and wait," she 
 answered, with her bright smile ; " and the con 
 solations of God are not small with me, either, 
 Dolly." 
 
 " If you can say that, I ought to be able to," 
 said I. (For really, in some ways, Bab is worse 
 off than I. Her lover was executed for complicity 
 in the Rye House Plot, though he died protesting 
 his innocence of aught but old friendship with 
 some of the conspirators. Her father is old and 
 feeble, her mother is dead ; and her aunt, who 
 rules the house, has the temper of a wild bull, and 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 83 
 
 the malice of I won t say what. Mrs. Pender- 
 gast says Bab has the patience of a saint with 
 her.) "But somehow those things seem to do 
 me no good. I read the Bible to my lady every 
 day, but I don t seem to gain any thing from it 
 but weariness." 
 
 " That is because you don t take it in the right 
 spirit, as I tell you," said Bab. 
 
 "But, Bab, I don t see that Christians are so 
 very much better off, after all," said I. " Look 
 at the Pendergasts ; and Mr. Baxter, poor man ! 
 ill and in prison ; and you yourself, how many 
 griefs you have had ; and Mr. Fairchild. He 
 was a good man, and yet God did not interfere to 
 save him from a violent and unjust death." 
 
 " There again you talk like a Sadducee," said 
 Bab. " Your words might be true if this world 
 were all, instead of the very least part of our life. 
 God has never promised his faithful ones any ex 
 emption from trouble in this world. On the con 
 trary, he hath said, c In the world ye shall have 
 tribulation, 4 Whom the Lord loveth he chasten- 
 eth. Mr. Fairchild s imprisonment and death 
 were not long, after all, and they opened to him 
 the gate of eternal life. And when we look back 
 to the most sorrowful life, after our sorrow is all 
 done and past forever, from the distance of a 
 million years of blessedness, it will not seem long 
 to us." 
 
 "I am glad you take comfort in such thoughts," 
 said I. 
 
84 Through Unknown Ways or, 
 
 " I could not live if I did not," said she ; and 
 then, her heart being opened, she went on to tell 
 me a great deal about her lover, how good he 
 was, and what comfort he had, even in his prison, 
 and how bravely he met his death. Bab is not 
 one to talk of her own feelings often, and I valued 
 her confidence all the more. 
 
 "But there, I am making you cry, and I did 
 not mean to do that," she said presently. " I 
 don t often talk of myself, but there is something 
 in you that draws one out. I always did like 
 you, Dolly." 
 
 " I am sure I am glad," said I, and then added 
 incautiously, " I was told you did not." 
 
 Bab glanced sharply at me, "Ursula?" I 
 nodded. 
 
 " You should know her well enough by this 
 time not to care for what she tells you," said 
 Bab ; and then, breaking out with all her natural 
 fire and vehemence, " If there is any thing I detest 
 and despise on this earth, it is a born meddler and 
 mischief-maker, a make-bate who repeats things 
 from one friend to another to make trouble and 
 discord. Such a person is the meanest reptile 
 that crawls." 
 
 " If they would content themselves with repeat 
 ing, but I think they never do," said I. 
 
 " Never. The tattler is always a liar." 
 
 " But, Bab, you should not hate or despise any 
 one," said I demurely : " doesn t the Bible say we 
 should pray for those ? " 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 85 
 
 " Yes, I know, and I am wrong," said Bab ; 
 "and, Dolly, I do pray for her. But you don t 
 know the wrong she has tried to do me. There, 
 I won t talk of it, or think of it, either, if I can 
 help it. Did you say my Lady Jemima s picture 
 was down-stairs ? Can I see it ? " 
 
 I took her down to the withdrawing-room ; and 
 we looked long at the beautiful face, drawn with 
 Lely s best art. 
 
 " How lovely she is ! " said Bab at last. " She 
 looks as if made for something better than the life 
 they say she led. What sort of man was Sir 
 Charles?" 
 
 " He was very kind to me/ I answered ; " but 
 they say he was a great gamester, and not very 
 good otherwise. But he was kind to me. I won 
 der what in the world made him marry my lady." 
 
 " Pier money, I suppose/ 1 answered Bab. " But 
 it was tied up so he never had much of it, or so I 
 have heard. I wonder whether my lady will ever 
 marry again." 
 
 " Bab, the idea ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " And pray what is there so very absurd in that, 
 Mrs. Dolly ? " said a sharp voice behind us. I 
 turned in a hurry, and saw my mistress, who had 
 come in like a cat, as she always does, only she 
 never purrs. "Am I such a dragon in your eyes 
 that you think all the men must be afraid of me ? " 
 
 I told her what was true, though I fear not the 
 whole truth, that I had always heard her regret 
 her last marriage, and say what a foolish step it 
 
86 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 was, and how much better off she would have 
 been to live single. 
 
 " One might have better luck another time," 
 said she, as if really considering the matter. 
 "However, you need not get your bridesmaid s 
 dress ready yet. What about your work? " 
 
 I told her it was all done ; and she bade me put 
 on my hood, and go tell Mr. Jackson she wanted 
 to see him. I ventured to demur a little, and say 
 I would go with Bab after supper ; whereupon she 
 took me up sharply for wanting to be in the street 
 at that hour. I believe it was a plan to keep Bab 
 from staying to supper. 
 
 Mr. Jackson was all smiles and spruceness, as 
 became a bridegroom, and made some speeches T 
 would have liked to box his ears for. I believe lie 
 did buy the laces, for they have all disappeared ; 
 and my lady is in high good humor, so that she 
 even gave me half a crown. 
 
 June 13. 
 
 Great news is come from the west, no less 
 than that the Duke of Monmouth has landed at 
 Lyme, and has put forth a proclamation declaring 
 his right to the crown, and accusing his uncle the 
 king of unheard of crimes ; of poisoning his 
 brother, of strangling poor Sir Edmondsbury God 
 frey, about whom there was such a coil, and what 
 not. Mr. Pendergast says it is not like a royal 
 proclamation, but like a libellous street broadside ; 
 and so said Mr. Robertson, who came to talk over 
 the news. 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 87 
 
 " Well, I can t but think there may be some truth 
 in his claim, after all we heard about the black 
 box , and, if so, I hope he will succeed," said my 
 mistress. 
 
 " For Heaven s sake, don t say so, sister ! " ex 
 claimed Mr. Robertson. " Such words, if reported, 
 might cost your life, and ours too." 
 
 My mistress looked scared. 
 
 "The duke s claim hath not the shadow of 
 probability," continued Mr. Robertson. " I well 
 remember seeing his mother, when I was abroad 
 as a young man. She was not a creature that any 
 one was like to marry. I know people wondered 
 at the king for taking up with her, for her charac 
 ter was notorious." 
 
 "I am very sorry for this business," said the 
 minister, " and the more so that I fear some of our 
 friends in the west will be so ill-advised as to join 
 with the duke, as others did with the Duke of 
 Argyle. I do not so much wonder at that, since 
 he was a sober and religious gentleman, though, 
 as I think, sadly ill-advised. But I do not know 
 what they can expect from one who leads the life 
 of the Duke of Monmouth." 
 
 "I suppose such great people are not to be 
 judged by common rules," began my lady ; but 
 Mr. Pendergast turned on her sharply enough. 
 
 " And why not, madam ? Does the Holy Word 
 contain one set of rules for the great, and another 
 for common people ? If so, I have never found it 
 out. The idea is far too common, but I did not 
 
88 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 expect to hear it from a member of my congrega 
 tion." 
 
 Then Mr. Robertson took her up, 
 
 " And whatever you do, sister Corbet, don t let 
 any one hear you say one word in favor of this 
 unhappy gentleman. The king is exasperated to 
 the last degree, and Judge Jeffreys hath his ear 
 entirely. I fear we shall see bloody work before 
 all is done. But I do beg you to be careful, sister: 
 I don t want to see you brought to prison and 
 death in your old age." 
 
 " Dear me, what did I say ? " asked my lady. 
 " I only said ?/." 
 
 "And that was an if too much," answered Mr. 
 Robertson. 
 
 "And as to my old age, I am not so very aged 
 as all that," whimpered my lady. " One would 
 think I were as old as Dame Gaskell to hear you 
 talk." 
 
 "You are old enough to know better than to 
 talk treason," said Mr. Robertson very sharply. 
 (It was a wonder, for he is usually very deferen 
 tial to his sister-in-law.) " Whj 7 ", if Mrs. Dolly 
 here were to report your rash words, you might 
 find yourself in Newgate to-morrow." 
 
 I was boiling over with rage at him ; but I was 
 spared the trouble of taking up the cudgels in 
 mine own defence, as Mr. Pendergast did it for 
 me. 
 
 " Mrs. Dolly is not going to do any such thing ; 
 she is no make-bate or tale-pyet, that I will engage. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 89 
 
 I wonder at you, brother Robertson, for casting 
 such a slur on a young lady as to insinuate that 
 she is to turn informer ! " 
 
 I don t know what there is about that little man 
 which gives him such weight. He is small and 
 meagre, and as poor as the young ravens, as Jane 
 Gaskell says ; and yet, when he does take up arms, 
 all goes down before him. Mr. Robertson looked 
 ashamed of himself. 
 
 "You misapprehend me, you quite misappre 
 hend me, brother Pendergast," said he. I meant 
 no insinuation as to Mrs. Dolly, who is, I am sure, 
 an excellent young lady ; but you know young 
 maids will tattle and talk at times incautiously. 
 I am sure I crave her pardon, if I have hurt her. 
 You will forgive me, won t you, Mrs. Dorothy?" 
 
 The poor man looked really unhappy. I do 
 think he is a kind soul ; and, with the specimen he 
 has at home, one need not wonder. So what could 
 I say but that it was no matter ! 
 
 June 18 
 
 I have seen Mr. Morley. He was in town only 
 one day and a part of another ; but he gave us a 
 call, and (I am almost ashamed .to write it) I did 
 meet him in the park for a few minutes in the 
 morning. I know it was wrong to break rny 
 promise to Mrs. Williams ; but it is the last time. 
 He goes to the west to-day, where the rebels are 
 still holding their own, and even making head. 
 
 Mr. Morley asked me what I heard among the 
 Presbyterians about the Duke of Monmouth. I 
 
90 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 told him that all I had heard speak of the matter 
 considered his claims utterly unfounded, and his 
 attempt both ill-advised and wrong. 
 
 " They would be ready enough to join him if he 
 made his way to London the sneaking traitors ! " 
 said Mr. Morley. "And how about your mis 
 tress? She hath an eye for a fine young man, 
 and the duke and Sir Charles Corbet used to be 
 very great together in former days." 
 
 My cheeks tingle with shame at the thought, 
 but I came very near telling him what my mistress 
 had said. Something, not my own sense I am sure, 
 stopped me just in time. It was as if a hand had 
 been laid on my mouth. 
 
 "That would be no passport to my lady s favor," 
 said I, laughing rather nervously. " She is always 
 telling about poor Sir Charles s wastefulness, and 
 how much better off she would have been had she 
 not married him. And the stories of the Duke of 
 Monmouth s extravagance would set her against 
 him if nothing else did. I must go, Mr. Morley." 
 
 " I suppose your mistress is very rich," said he, 
 detaining me. 
 
 " I suppose so," I answered. " I heard her say 
 once that her income was more that twenty pounds 
 a day. But she is not one to talk of her affairs. 
 But I must go this minute." 
 
 Well, we parted, and he is gone. When I think 
 over our interview, it does seem strange to me that 
 he should ask me such questions. Does he think 
 I would be a spy on these poor people? And yet 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 91 
 
 my heart was in my mouth when I think how near 
 I came to betraying my poor mistress. I will 
 never again boast of my power of keeping secrets. 
 
 I never thought to ask him about the Newcastle 
 lady. 
 
 My mistress is wonderful good to me about these 
 days. She hath given me small sums of money 
 two or three times ; and to-day she presented me 
 with two dresses that were Lady Jemima s, a gray 
 cloth curiously wrought with silk embroidery, and 
 a blue silk. Of course they are all out of fashion, 
 but I can make them over. I am glad to have 
 them, for I have worn my best gown till it is 
 hardly decent for every day. 
 
 June 25. 
 
 I have been so busy with my dressmaking that 
 I have had no time to write, and not much to say. 
 My gowns are done and look very pretty. My 
 mistress continues her good-nature, and gives me 
 more liberty to do what I please than ever before ; 
 but she does not like to have rne go out. 
 
 Ursula Jackson hath been here with her odious 
 husband. I fancy she does not find her married 
 life all sunshine, or he either. His old servants 
 left him, for one thing, after living with him 
 twenty-five years, and he has not yet suited him 
 self. Ursula told me that Mr. Morley had given 
 her a visit, and seemed surprised when I told her 
 he had been here also. 
 
 " But he need not come again, he need not come 
 again," said Mr. Jackson, rubbing his hands. " We 
 
92 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 don t want any court falcons round our turtle 
 dove s nest, do we, lovey ? " 
 
 Ursula smiled, but it was what Mrs. Williams 
 calls an oxymel smile, sweet and sour at the same 
 time. She has been tr} 7 ing to get Mary Mathews 
 away from us, promising her an advance of wages ; 
 but Mary, who knows her well, says she would as 
 soon live with the Prince of darkness. 
 
 I don t know how it is. I ought to be happy 
 after seeing Mr. Morley, and hearing from his own 
 lips how much he loves me. But I am not. My 
 conscience pricks me for breaking my promise so 
 solemnly given, and then there was a something in 
 his manner, a kind of freedom. Something keeps 
 telling me that he would not have spoken so to a 
 woman he really respected. And then his asking 
 me those questions. But I am an ungrateful, fan 
 ciful girl, and there is the end on t. 
 
 June 30. 
 
 Great public news, the Duke of Monmouth 
 was defeated, and his power wholly broken, at a 
 place called Sedgemoor. Terrible tales are told of 
 the brutality used toward the poor miners and 
 ploughmen who had joined him. I am sure I hope 
 Mr. Morley had nothing to do with these cruelties. 
 The duke himself was taken hiding in a ditch, and 
 has been brought to London. We saw him pass, 
 Mrs. Williams and I, as we were buying some 
 things for my lady. He looked thin and haggard, 
 but not daunted. I am sorry for his poor wife, 
 who they say loves him to distraction ; though he 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 93 
 
 cares for her not at all, and has not even asked to 
 see her. 
 
 The murder is out. I mean the secret of my 
 lady s kindness to me. I could tear her fine gifts 
 to pieces if it were not for the remembrance of 
 that morning in the park. She is really afraid I 
 will betray her. She asked me last night to stay 
 and read to her awhile after she was in bed, say 
 ing she found it hard to go to sleep, and that I 
 might sleep later in the morning, if I liked, to 
 make up ; adding, 
 
 " I dare say you don t lie awake ? " 
 
 " Not often, madam," said I ; " not unless I have 
 something on my mind." 
 
 " Chicks like you ought not to have any thing 
 on their minds. There, read away." 
 
 " What shall I read, my lady ? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh, what you like ! There is Mr. Milton s 
 new poem lying on the cabinet, take that. Mr. 
 Pendergast thinks it is wonderful, but I don t 
 know. Mr. Milton became an Independent, I re 
 member. How many changes I have seen ! And 
 yet I have not lived so very long. There, go on." 
 
 So I began, 
 
 " Of man s first disobedience, and the fruit 
 Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste 
 Brought death into the world and all our woe." 
 
 Once having begun, I knew not where to stop. 
 The sentences are long, and the sense, at times, 
 involved; but the diction, the melody, is something 
 
94 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 wonderful. Well, I read a long time, but my lady 
 did not go to sleep. At last she said, 
 
 " There, that will do ; it is late. Come here, 
 child." She took my hand and looked with a 
 curious wistfulness in my face. " You don t love 
 me, Dolly, I know. I ought not to expect it, I 
 suppose. I never did make people love me, only 
 Mr. Robertson ; arid 1 haven t been very good to 
 you, perhaps ? " She looked at me as if expecting 
 an answer, and I resolved to be frank for once. 
 
 "No, my lady, I don t think you have," I an 
 swered. " You have given me shelter, it is true, 
 and for that I am grateful " 
 
 " And food and clothes," she interrupted me. 
 
 " And food and clothes," I assented ; " but you 
 have not given me what is worth even more to a 
 young maid, and that is kindness. You seem as if 
 you grudged the very food you gave, and I never 
 am at ease with you. I never know when the sim 
 plest word or act of mine may bring down a storm 
 of anger and abuse on my head. I would ask noth 
 ing more than to be able to love and respect you, 
 but how can I ? " 
 
 I thought I had done it now, but she only 
 sighed. 
 
 " Well, well ! Maybe you are right. My aunt 
 Wilson told me once I was like some man she 
 read of in a story-book: I never could have fair 
 weather because I carried my own storm wherever 
 I went. But, Dolly, you can be sorry for me. You 
 would not want to be revenged. You would not 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 95 
 
 wish to see your poor old mistress in Newgate or 
 on the scaffold?" 
 
 It flashed on me then in a moment what it all 
 meant. I tried to draw my hand away, but she 
 held me fast. 
 
 "Do you judge me by yourself?" said I, too 
 angry to measure my words. " Would you do as 
 much by me ? " 
 
 " But they might tempt you, they might offer 
 you money," said she piteously. "Don t be angry, 
 Dolly, but promise you won t betray me." 
 
 " And what would my promise be worth, if I 
 were what you think me ? " I asked. And then 
 all at once came the remembrance of how near I 
 had come to doing that very thing through sheer 
 carelessness, and I felt that I was no such grand 
 person after all. As the poor thing held my hand 
 and gazed into my face, my heart softened toward 
 her, poor, lonely, unloved and unloving old woman. 
 I am at least better off than she, because I can 
 love, and have some one to love me. 
 
 " My lady," said I, trying to speak calmly, for I 
 saw how agitated she was, and I feared a fit. 
 " Listen to me. I don t boast of what I would 
 or would not do. Nobody knows that till the 
 trial comes. But I will say this much. If I know 
 myself, I would sooner cut off my right hand than 
 say a word which would bring you into any 
 trouble." 
 
 " Well, well, I believe you," said she, looking 
 more satisfied. " You have plenty of faults, Dolly, 
 
96 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 and you are not very good-tempered ; but I have 
 never caught you in a lie, or even in a false ex 
 cuse. And maybe I haven t been as kind to you 
 as I ought to be. There, kiss me, child, and go 
 to bed." 
 
 I kissed her, and she really did embrace me with 
 some affection. I went away quite elated with 
 my victory ; but, when I think matters over, I don t 
 feel so proud. Is a broken promise a lie ? And 
 if I have told no lies in words, have I not acted 
 them ? No, I don t feel proud of myself at all. 
 
 July 16. 
 
 The poor, unhappy Duke of Monmouth was ex 
 ecuted yesterday. When the king consented to 
 see him, his friends had hope for his life; but now 
 tis said his Majesty never had any such intention. 
 I do think that was dreadful, as though he wished 
 to feast his eyes on the misery and degradation of 
 his own nephew. His poor wife visited him ; but 
 though he spoke to her kindly, and bid her not 
 mourn for him, he showed her no affection. His 
 love was given to the Lady Wentworth ; and they 
 say he told the bishops who attended him, that he 
 considered her his wife in the sight of Heaven, 
 since he was wedded to the Lady Anne Scott when 
 they were both little children. The executioner 
 did his work most foully, and came near being 
 torn to pieces by the crowd, who rushed to dip 
 cloths and handkerchiefs in the duke s blood. 
 
 Mr. Pendergast brought us some letters he has 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 97 
 
 received from the west country, telling dreadful 
 stories of the cruelties practised there. I suppose 
 it was right to make examples ; but it could not 
 be necessary to throw little girls into the common 
 prison for the folly of their school-mistress, or to 
 behead a poor old lady for giving food to the starv 
 ing fugitives. Nay, they say the Lady Alice Lysle 
 would have been burned, but for the earnest in 
 tercession of all the clergy of Winchester; but 
 even they did not avail to save her life. They 
 say the chief justice is like a madman, and that 
 Kirke is no better. It is dreadful to me to think 
 of Mr. Morley in the midst of such scenes, and 
 perhaps obliged to assist at them. How his kind 
 heart must revolt at the work ! 
 
 July 18. 
 
 Mr. Pendergast has been here to bid us farewell 
 for a time. He hath had notice from a sure hand 
 that the scenes of the west country are likely 
 enough to be re-enacted here very soon ; and though, 
 as he says, he shall not desert his flock, he shall 
 not for the present show himself openly among 
 men. His wife and children go to her father, who 
 is a yeoman in Kent, not rich, but able and will 
 ing to give his daughter a home. I am sorry to 
 miss them. Mr. Pendergast is a most agreeable 
 man, and both he and his wife have been very 
 good to me. Besides, they had more influence 
 with my lady than any one else, even Mr. Baxter 
 himself. I fear the poor man s prison will not be 
 the easier for what has happened. I would I could 
 
98 Through Unknown Ways. 
 
 see him, and carry him some comforts, as Bab An 
 drews has done ; but when I ventured to ask leave 
 to go with her, my mistress went into such a tak 
 ing that she nearly brought on a fit, a real fit, I 
 mean. Mrs. Williams tells me I must be careful 
 not to agitate her, and I am. I don t want the 
 poor thing s death at my door. She is much kinder 
 to me than formerly ; and I suppose I ought to be 
 happy, knowing as I do that Mr. Morley loves 
 me. But I don t know, I suppose nobody ever 
 is really content in this world. Bab would say it 
 is because they strive to be content with what was 
 never meant to satisfy them, but I don t know. 
 
 I have really written through this the smallest 
 of my three books. I wonder what the lady who 
 so carefully prepared it for her daughter would 
 say if she saw how it was filled. She was a devout 
 lady, that I am sure of, from the few sentences 
 written in this book; but it seems her daughter 
 did not take after her. I wonder why. 
 
THE SECOND BOOK. 
 
BOOK II. 
 
 August 1, 1685. 
 
 [ITTLE did I think, when I closed the last 
 book, that the new one would open under 
 such changed circumstances. I had been 
 having a pretty hard time for some days. Mrs. 
 Williams was ill for a week, and not able to get 
 out of bed : so I had the whole care of my mis 
 tress ; and a handful she was, to be sure, and as 
 cross as two sticks. She who takes to her bed 
 on the smallest ailment, and will have the whole 
 house running if her little finger aches, was quite 
 sure there was nothing the matter with Mrs. Wil 
 liams, and that she could get up if she only thought 
 so. Then she would veer round to the other 
 extreme : Mrs. Williams had an infectious fever, 
 even the plague ; she would die in the house, and 
 give us all the infection, and there would be the 
 funeral. In vain the doctor assured her it was 
 only a severe cold, which would get well with 
 nursing. If that was all, why need Williams lie 
 in bed ? She had had plenty of colds, and nobody 
 thought any thing of them ; but she was a poor, 
 forsaken creature that nobody cared for. And 
 
 101 
 
102 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 then the expense : she should die in an almshouse, 
 she knew she should. 
 
 " Then you will be happier than a great many 
 of your persuasion, madam," said the doctor. 
 "Better die in an almshouse than in jail or on 
 the scaffold, as so many are doing just now." 
 
 My lady was silent at this, and I saw her glance 
 at me. 
 
 " I should not think such severity would help 
 to make his Majesty popular," observed Mr. An 
 drews, who had come in with Bab to give us a 
 call. 
 
 "It does not," said the doctor, who is much 
 about the court, and who is, in fact, one of those 
 who attended his late Majesty in his last illness. 
 " But I do not think the king cares to be liked as 
 his brother did ; he would rather be feared. I 
 dread, sir, we shall see great troubles and changes 
 before many years are past." 
 
 " There, don t talk about it," said my lady hastily : 
 " it is not safe ; " and she began to ask Mr. An 
 drews about the credit of somebody in the city who 
 owes her money. But the fright did her good, 
 and she behaved much better afterward. 
 
 I had one comfort in a letter from Mr. Morley, 
 sent me by a private hand. It was kindly writ, 
 as usual, but says nothing of public affairs. One 
 thing I am resolved on : I will never give him 
 another private meeting. 
 
 Well, Mrs. Williams was about again, and things 
 had fallen into their usual course. I had been out 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 103 
 
 to do an errand for my mistress, and she had 
 given me leave to make Bab Andrews a little visit. 
 Bab was not at home, and I was turning from the 
 door, when I met Mary Mathews. 
 
 " You are to come home directly, Mrs. Dolly," 
 said she, quite breathless witli her haste. "My 
 lady sent me for you, and desires you will make 
 no delay." 
 
 "Why, what now?" said I. "Hath my lady 
 taken a fit again ? " 
 
 " Not so ; but there is a lady come to see you," 
 said Mary. " She is sitting in the withdra wing- 
 room with mistress." 
 
 " In the withdrawing-room ! " I repeated, in 
 wonder, knowing that my lady never enters that 
 room if she can help it. " Did you see the lady ? 
 Is it my Lady Clarenham ? " 
 
 " The lady who came to see you before ? No ; 
 but a much handsomer lady, and very richly 
 dressed. I think my mistress called her Lady 
 Fullham, but I am not sure." 
 
 " Fullham ? I have heard that name somewhere, 
 but I can t tell where," said I ; but I had not much 
 time to speculate thereon, for we were already at 
 the house. I made myself neat, taking very little 
 time about it, for I was running over with curiosity. 
 
 As I entered the room, I found myself face to 
 face with a handsome lady, a little past the prime 
 of life, very richly dressed, but in a sober, matron 
 ly fashion. There was something oddly familiar 
 in her face, too." 
 
104 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 "This is Mrs. Dorothy Corbet, madam," said 
 my mistress, taking me by the hand to present 
 me, as if I had been a daughter of her own, a 
 thing she never did before. " Dolly, this lady is 
 Lady Fullham, who has come to see you on an 
 important matter." 
 
 I can t tell how many or what wild notions 
 darted through my mind. The chief was the 
 wonder whether this lady were not some friend or 
 relation of Mr. Morley s to whom he had recom 
 mended me, as I remember he once spoke of 
 doing. I was soon undeceived, and in a surpris 
 ing way. 
 
 " Come hither, and speak to me, my child," 
 said the lady, after she had, as it seemed to me, 
 looked me all over in a moment with her keen 
 dark eyes. " I am your mother s own sister and 
 your aunt." 
 
 The room did seem to turn round with me at 
 these words. My mother never spoke of her own 
 family, who were bitterly opposed to her marrying 
 a soldier and a poor man. She did say on her 
 death-bed, " Dolly, you were named for your aunt, 
 my only sister. If you ever have a chance, make 
 friends with her, and give my love to her. I am 
 sorry now that I have never written to her, 
 though I shall never regret my marriage." 
 
 I recovered myself as quickly as I could, 
 courtesied deeply, and received my new aunt s 
 kiss, but in silence, for I literally could not 
 speak. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 105 
 
 " You did not know you had such a relation, I 
 suppose," said my aunt. 
 
 " No, madam yes, madam," I faltered, like a 
 fool ; and then, making a great effort, " My mother 
 told me on her death-bed that I was named for 
 you. It was almost the last word she said." 
 
 " And why did not you or your guardians let 
 me know, child ? " she asked, rather sharply ; and 
 then, more gently, " But I dare say you did not 
 know where to write. My father forbade my hold 
 ing any intercourse with my poor, unhappy sister, 
 and perhaps we obeyed him too literally ; and 
 after I had daughters of mine own However, 
 that does not matter now." 
 
 "I will leave you to yourselves for a while," 
 said my lady, rising. I gave her my arm to her 
 own room, and returned to my new aunt, whom I 
 found viewing the pictures and ornaments with a 
 critical eye. 
 
 " This room is very handsomely furnished, though 
 a little out of date," said she. " I should hardly 
 have expected such taste in a city woman, as I 
 understand Lady Corbet to have been before her 
 last husband married her." 
 
 I told her the room had been fitted up by Lady 
 Jemima, my cousin s first wife, and was, I believed, 
 just as she left it. 
 
 " Oh, that accounts for it ! " said she. " Lady 
 Jemima was of an excellent old family." 
 
 (I wonder does being of an old family give 
 one an infallible taste. I suppose, as Mr. Pen- 
 
106 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 dergast says, one family is really about as old as 
 another.) 
 
 Then my aunt had me sit down by her, and 
 began to catechise me rather sharply, but not up- 
 kindly, about my mother and her affairs. She 
 was visibly touched when I told her of my 
 mother s troubles and death ; and, when I could 
 not forbear weeping, she called me "poor child," 
 and gave me her own smelling-bottle. 
 
 " Well, well, I would I had known I " said she : 
 " I would never have left her to die among stran 
 gers. But my first husband hated London, and 
 would never come hither ; and Sir Robert is not 
 much better." Then she began to ask me about 
 my education, and I answered her frankly. Final 
 ly she asked if my lady was kind to me. 
 
 " Please excuse me from answering that ques 
 tion, madam," said I. " My mistress gave me a 
 home when I had nowhere to go, and it would ill 
 become me to accuse her." 
 
 My aunt looked displeased for a moment, and 
 then her brow cleared. 
 
 "You are right, child, and your words show a 
 ladylike spirit. One can see you are of gentle 
 blood. Now go and ask Lady Corbet if she will 
 give me the favor of an interview to-morrow. I 
 will not ask to see her again to-day, as she seems 
 but feeble ; and, beside, I want a little time to 
 consider." 
 
 I went up to my mistress, who fixed ten of the 
 clock for receiving my aunt. (How strange it 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 107 
 
 seems to write the word !) I told my aunt, who 
 said she would come at that hour. 
 
 " By the way, child, I hope you are not a Pres 
 byterian, as I hear these people are," said she, as 
 she was going away. 
 
 " No, madam," I answered ; " I was brought up 
 in the Church of England." 
 
 " That is well," said she. " They are a pestilent 
 set of traitors, as the late unhappy outbreak hath 
 shown." 
 
 I could not quite stand this. " Not all, madam," 
 said I. " I have not heard a single Presbyterian 
 speak of the late rebellion but with regret and 
 abhorrence." 
 
 "Don t answer me back, child," said my aunt 
 sharply. "Your mother should have taught you 
 better than that. There, I am not angry, but 
 don t do it again." 
 
 She kissed me, and I attended her to the door. 
 She had a fine coach and two men. I think she 
 must be very rich. How odd if she should take 
 a fancy to adopt me ! But that is not likely, as 
 she tells me she hath two daughters of her own. 
 
 August 3 
 
 But unlikely things do happen. Lady Fullham 
 came again next day, and was closeted with my 
 mistress full two hours. I expected every moment 
 to be sent for, but no message came; and by and 
 by I saw my aunt drive away. Every thing went 
 on as usual till after dinner, when my lady called 
 me to her side, and bade me sit down. 
 
108 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " So I am to lose you, Dolly, it seems," said 
 she. " This fine country lady desires to adopt 
 you into her own family, and to give you a home 
 and all the privileges of a daughter ; and of course 
 she has the best right to you, as your mother s 
 sister." 
 
 " Methinks her mother s sister was somewhat 
 slow in asserting her right," remarked Mrs. Wil 
 liams, who was knitting, as usual, and with that 
 peculiar click of her needles which always indi 
 cates displeasure with her. 
 
 "Hold your tongue, Williams," retorted my 
 mistress. " Lady Fullham did not know of her 
 niece s existence." 
 
 " Then she might have known," said Mrs. Wil 
 liams, who is not easily put down. " She could 
 have asked, I presume." 
 
 " Will you be quiet ? " said my lady. " You see, 
 Dolly, the doctor says I must go to the Bath and 
 stay several months, and that makes it needful to 
 shut up the house. I can t afford to keep two 
 establishments, nor could you stay here alone." 
 
 " There would be no need of that," said Mrs. 
 Williams. "Mrs. Dolly could go with us to the 
 Bath. I am sure you will need her quite as much 
 there as here." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Williams ! " This is her 
 regular retort, and Mrs. Williams cares for it as 
 much as for the sparrows chirping outside. " It 
 would increase my expenses very greatly to carry 
 Dolly with me, and that is what I cannot afford. 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 109 
 
 I am like to be driven to beggary as it is, with all 
 this journeying and expense." 
 
 Mrs. Williams s needles rattled like a soldier s 
 equipments, and her chin went up in the air with 
 its own peculiar toss. My lady continued, 
 
 " Besides, my Lady Fullham, being own sister to 
 Dolly s mother, has the best right to her. She 
 is wealthy, and can take her into society, and give 
 her many advantages." 
 
 " She can" said Mrs. Williams. " The question 
 is, whether she will." 
 
 "She says she intends to place Dolly on the 
 same footing as her own daughters," returned my 
 lady. " Those were her very words, On the same 
 footing as my own daughters, in every respect. 
 What do you say to that, chick ? " 
 
 " My aunt is very kind," said I. " I must say 
 that it is pleasant to me to think that I have some 
 relations. I have been so alone in the world 
 hitherto." 
 
 "Better kind strangers than strange kin," 
 snapped Mrs. Williams. 
 
 " Perhaps Dolly thinks she has not found the 
 kind strangers," said my lady. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I have had a great deal of kindness 
 from strangers," said I. " Nobody ever had a 
 better friend than Mrs. Williams has been to me." 
 And in something of my old impulsive fashion, I 
 threw my arms round the dear old woman s neck, 
 and gave her a good hug, thereby causing great 
 damage to the knitting. Mrs. Williams returned 
 
110 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 my kiss ; and then, gathering up her work, she left 
 the room. 
 
 " Williams, where are you going ? Come back," 
 cried my lady ; but Mrs. Williams only said she 
 would come back presently, and closed the door 
 after her. When she did come back, I saw that 
 she had been weeping. 
 
 " Well, now, if you have done with your play 
 acting, you and Williams, perhaps you will listen 
 to sense," said my lady peevishly. " Lady Fullham 
 and I have settled it all between us. Dolly is to 
 go to her on Monday." 
 
 " That is very short notice, seeing that this is 
 Friday," observed Mrs. Williams. "Mrs. Dolly 
 will have no time to get her clothes ready ; and 
 she needs new under-linen, stays, and gloves, and 
 what not." 
 
 " There you are quite mistaken," said my mis 
 tress triumphantly. " Lady Fullham expressly 
 said Dolly was to bring nothing with her but the 
 most necessary clothes. She preferred to provide 
 every thing herself. So, you see, Dolly, you need 
 not take the blue silk gown I gave you, nor the 
 cloth mantle. They will do for some one else, if 
 ever I have another in your place, which I doubt." 
 
 " But, my lady, I have nothing else to wear, 
 not a decent thing, " I faltered, somewhat aghast. 
 
 " To be sure you have not," said Mrs. Williams 
 decidedly. " I presume the lady did not want her 
 niece to come to her like a beggar-wench from the 
 Bridewell ; nor would you, my lady, like to be 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. Ill 
 
 thought so mean and stingy as to send her out in 
 that guise. You would not like to have this fine 
 lady telling every one of her acquaintance that 
 Lady Corbet was too mean to give her gentle 
 woman decent clothes." 
 
 Now, if there be one thing that my lady cares 
 more for than for her money, it is what people say 
 about her. 
 
 " Of course not, of course not. I am only tell 
 ing you what the lady said. Of course, Dolly will 
 take with her what clothes she has already. All 
 I mean is, that she need not wait to buy any more. 
 There, go away now, Dolly, and let me have a 
 rest. You can be putting your things in order, if 
 they need it." 
 
 But they do not need it. Thanks to my dear 
 mother s lessons, followed up by Mrs. Williams s, 
 I have the fixed habit of mending my clothes as 
 they want it. I almost wish I had something to 
 do to pass away the time. 
 
 To think that, after almost three years of slavery, 
 waiting on my lady s whims, and wearing out 
 my eyes and fingers in everlasting seaming and 
 stitching, and my throat in reading stupid books 
 of divinity that I could never make head nor tail 
 of, after all, I am really to be a young lady, 
 and take my place as such in my aunt s family. I 
 hope I shall be able to content her. She seems 
 like one who would be mighty particular. I can 
 see that she thinks a great deal of birth and fam 
 ily. Well, mine ought to be good enough to suit 
 
112 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 her, one would think. My mother was her own 
 sister, and my father was related not distantly, 
 though I don t know just how, to the old Corbet 
 family in Devonshire and Cornwall. Sir Charles 
 told me about it once, that is, he began to tell 
 me, but my lady, who never could endure to have 
 him speak to me, came down on us like a dragon. 
 Alas ! poor man. He was very good to me. I 
 have been looking at his last gift, which I always 
 wear about my neck. It is egg-shaped, about 
 as large as a small pigeon s egg, and there is 
 something inside which rattles a little. I cannot 
 see any way to open it, but then I would not do 
 so if I could, at least I think not. 
 
 There is one thought that troubles me a good 
 deal. How shall I ever see or hear from Mr. Mor- 
 ley ? He can come to visit my lady, and I can at 
 least see him and hear him talk, and now and then 
 get a few words to myself. As to meeting him in 
 the park again, I have solemnly resolved not to 
 do that. But he is not in London, nor like to be 
 for a long time, and then his regiment is stationed 
 in the west. My uncle and aunt live not very far 
 from Exeter, and perchance we may meet. But 
 my aunt is not going down to the west at present. 
 She has taken a furnished house, and means to re 
 main at least till some time in September, that her 
 daughters may have lessons in drawing and music. 
 I wonder if I shall have them as well. I do love 
 music dearly, but I have not touched an instru 
 ment since 1 canic to this house. There is a 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 113 
 
 harpsichord down-stairs, but it is locked and the 
 key lost. Beside that, my mistress hates music. 
 
 I can t pretend to say that I am sorry to leave 
 her. She has never been kind to me, except when 
 she was afraid of me ; and she is one of those peo 
 ple who delight to wreak their own discomforts on 
 other people. So sure as money hath not come in 
 when she expected it, or her supper hath disagreed 
 with her, or she hath had an argument with Mr. 
 Pendergast about giving something (and he is 
 not afraid of her, whoever else is), just so surely 
 my ears and shoulders have had to pay the piper. 
 And one never can tell when she will break out. 
 It is like living with some treacherous wild ani 
 mal. And I don t think I owe her any debt of 
 gratitude for my board and clothes, either. Mrs. 
 Williams herself told my mistress that I earned 
 all I had, and more too ; and she is one who never 
 exaggerates, as I know I do sometimes. 
 
 I am sorry to leave Mrs. Williams. A better 
 woman never lived or breathed, as I believe I have 
 said two or three times before, but I don t care. 
 She is desperately strict in her notions, and thinks 
 every thing in the shape of amusement is wrong, 
 except it may be a walk now and then, or some 
 kind of fanciful knitting. She would not even 
 have psalms sung in church. And when Mr. 
 Pendergast asked her how she got along with 
 King David s singers and instruments, she said 
 tartly, " That was under the old dispensation and 
 not any rule for Christians." Then he fell upon 
 
114 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 her with St. James, his words, u ls any merry? 
 Let him sing psalms." But she answered more 
 sharply still, that she read her Bible by the light 
 within, and that these words had a spiritual sig 
 nificance. 
 
 " But suppose my inward illumination shows 
 me something quite different from yours, what 
 then?" asked Mr. Pendergast, whereat she was 
 silent. They are always very good friends, despite 
 their arguments. I don t suppose I shall ever see 
 any of them again, and that I do regret. I won 
 der whether my aunt will let me visit Bab An 
 drews. I shall be sorry if she does not, for I love 
 her dearly. I must try to see her to-morrow. 
 
 August 10. 
 
 I have been an inmate of my aunt s family a 
 week, and this is the very first minute I have 
 had to write. Somehow we never seem to have 
 any time to ourselves. Even for our hours of re 
 tirement and devotion, which are strictly set apart 
 every day, my aunt appoints our tasks of reading ; 
 and we must give her an account of what we have 
 read. However, she does leave us alone at such 
 times ; and, as I am a rapid reader and have a 
 good memory, I hope I may now and then have a 
 few minutes. 
 
 I was all ready on Monday morning when my 
 aunt s carriage came for me ; and it was with a 
 strange feeling of acting in a dream that I took 
 my seat in it, beside a somewhat sharp-visaged 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 115 
 
 person who I learned was my cousins waiting- 
 woman. I was no sooner seated beside her than she 
 began to arrange my kerchief and bodice, telling 
 me that I was not dressed snug enough. 
 
 " But we shall soon change all that," said she. 
 " Is your health pretty good, Mrs. Dorothy ? You 
 are rather pale." 
 
 I told her that it was my natural complexion $ 
 that I had never been ill more than two or three 
 times in my life, and then not seriously. 
 
 " Are not my cousins healthy ? " I ventured to 
 ask. 
 
 "Mrs. Betty is well, Mrs. Margaret is rather 
 delicate," was the reply. 
 
 I asked how old they were, and she told me that 
 Margaret was eighteen and Betty sixteen. 
 
 " Then I am just between them, for I am seven 
 teen," said I. At that moment I saw Bab Andrews 
 coming out at her father s door, and nodded to her. 
 
 "You must never do that when my mistress 
 sees you," was the comment my companion made. 
 " She would be very angry." 
 
 " But why ? " I asked. " Mr. Andrews is a very 
 wealthy and good man, and his daughter is lovely. 
 Did you not think her nice looking ? " 
 
 " Yes, she hath a nice face and air," said Mrs. 
 Sharpless. (Such was the waiting-woman s name, 
 she told me.) " But if she were an angel from 
 heaven, it would make no difference. My mistress 
 will have her young people make no friends out of 
 her own circle." 
 
116 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 I felt rather dashed at this, and I dare say I 
 showed it. Mrs. Sharpless turned to me, and put 
 her hand on my arm. 
 
 " Mrs. Dorothy, though it is not my place per 
 haps, I am going to give you a bit of advice," said 
 she impressively. " You are but a young thing, 
 and are coming into a new place. Now, mind 
 what I say. If you would get on smoothly and 
 comfortably, you must make up your mind to 
 have no will of your own, but to be governed by 
 my mistress your aunt in all things. Tis the 
 only way." 
 
 I told her I hoped I knew my duty too well not 
 to be submissive to my aunt, who was so kind as 
 to adopt me. 
 
 " Why, aye, you seem a towardly young lady, 
 and well-bred ; and I am glad your cousins will 
 have a companion of their own age, poor things ! 
 Well, here we are." 
 
 It was with no little trepidation that I found 
 myself ushered into my aunt s presence. She was 
 sitting in her own parlor, surrounded by heaps of 
 silk and linen, laces and other things of the sort ; 
 and a man was in attendance with more bundles 
 still. My aunt received me kindly, and kissed my 
 cheek. 
 
 " You may carry Mrs. Dorothy to her cousins 
 room, and tell them from me they may have a 
 holiday till dinner to get acquainted with their 
 cousin. And do you unpack her mail, and lay out 
 her things upon the bed, that I may look them 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 117 
 
 over. We must put her wardrobe in hand directly, 
 that she may be decent to go out with me." 
 
 Mrs. Sharpless courtesied, and led me upstairs, 
 and along a passage to a green door covered 
 with cloth. This she opened, knocking first, and 
 ushered me into a somewhat bare room, where two 
 young ladies were sitting, one at her book, the 
 other at the harpsichord where she was making 
 terrible work of her scales. They both looked 
 round as we entered, but neither stirred till Mrs. 
 Sharpless said, 
 
 "Mrs. Margaret and Mrs. Betty, this is your 
 cousin Mrs. Dorothy Corbet, with whom your 
 mother desires you to become acquainted ; and to 
 that end she gives you a holiday till dinner-time. 
 I will go and lay out your things, Mrs. Dorothy, 
 and then come and show you your bedroom." 
 
 Margaret and Betty came forward and kissed 
 me, rather coolly I thought ; and there was a min 
 ute or two of awkward silence, which Betty broke 
 by asking in a business-like way, 
 
 " Well, why don t you become acquainted, since 
 that is the order ? " 
 " Betty ! " said Margaret warningly. 
 
 " Because I don t know how," said I, laughing 
 in spite of myself. " At school, when new girls 
 came in, we used to get acquainted by asking 
 their names and histories ; but I dare say you know 
 all that." 
 
 " Oh, yes, my mother was pleased to inform us 
 that we had a new cousin who would share our 
 
118 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 studies and pleasures ! " Betty laid an emphasis 
 on this last word, which was almost bitter I 
 thought. " And I suppose she told you all about 
 us." 
 
 "Not very much," I answered. "Mrs. Sharp- 
 less told me that Margaret was the elder, and that 
 she was not very strong." 
 
 " Are you ? " asked Betty. I told her yes. 
 
 " So much the better for you," said she shortly, 
 and then she began to ask me about my accom 
 plishments. Could I sing? Could I play? I 
 told her I could do both. 
 
 " I am glad on t ; that is, if you play well," said 
 Betty. " Meg loves music, and she will have 
 something to listen to beside my horrible strum 
 ming." 
 
 " And do you play ? " I asked, turning to Mar 
 garet, who, in as careless an attitude as her stiff 
 chair would permit, was looking at us with soft, 
 wistful, dark eyes, which reminded me somehow 
 of Bab Andrews s dog. 
 
 " Yes, but not very well," said she. " But I am 
 glad you can play, cousin Dorothy. Try some 
 thing now." 
 
 " 1 am not sure I can remember any thing," said 
 I. " I have not touched a harpsichord in three 
 years." However, I did make out to play one of 
 my old lessons, and then I sang a song out of one 
 of Mr. Shakspeare s plays, ^ Hark ! the lark at 
 heaven s gate sings." 
 
 It was always a favorite of mine, and I was so 
 
Mrs. Studley 9 Ttiary. 119 
 
 glad to sing and play once more, that I did 
 my very best. Margaret sprang up from her chair 
 and came and stood by me. As I ceased and 
 looked up, I saw that her color was deepened, 
 and there were tears in her bright, soft eyes. Be 
 fore I had time to speak, Mrs. Sharpless came and 
 called me ; but, as I rose from the music-stool, 
 Betty caught my hand, and gave it a squeeze. 
 
 " You have made Meg happy," said she. " I 
 shall love you if you can do that." 
 
 "And I am sure I shall love you," I began to 
 say ; but Mrs. Sharpless hurried me away, saying 
 that my aunt was waiting. My heart sank fath 
 oms deep as I suddenly remembered my precious 
 writing-books, and thought of their meeting my 
 aunt s eye. When I entered the room which was 
 to be mine, however, I saw no trace of them, and 
 my aunt was as kind as ever. 
 
 " I have been looking over your things, Dorothy," 
 said she, "and I am pleased with the order in 
 which you have kept them. It shows that you 
 are neat, and clever with your needle. I see yon 
 have a Bible and Prayer-Book: that is well. But 
 why are you so pleased ? " 
 
 For I had caught up the Prayer-Book with a 
 little cry of joy. It was my dear mother s gift, 
 which my mistress had taken away from me when 
 I first went to live with her. I explained the mat 
 ter to my aunt. She nodded. 
 
 " Just what one would expect such a person to 
 do," was her comment. 
 
120 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 Now, I don t believe my mistress s religion had 
 the least thing to do with her taking away my 
 Prayer-Book. I don t believe Mr. Pendergast 
 would have done it, or poor dear Mr. Baxter, 
 though he did use to send me such dreary, uncom 
 fortable books to read. It was just a piece of my 
 lady s spite, like her forbidding Mrs. Williams to 
 knit, because it gave her the fidgets to see and 
 hear the needles. Marry, she soon grew tired of 
 that. But 1 had learned already not to argue 
 with my aunt. 
 
 "But you must have a new book to carry to 
 church," said she. " My daughters attend church 
 every morning at eight, and I shall expect you to 
 go with them. Is this old-fashioned silk your best 
 dress?" 
 
 "Yes, madam." 
 
 " And who made it." 
 
 I told her I had made it myself out of an old 
 one of my Lady Jem s. 
 
 " Well, well ! It is neatly done and does you 
 credit, but you must have two or three new ones 
 made in the fashion. I dare say your mistress did 
 not care much for that. But remember it is a 
 duty we owe to the world, to dress becomingly to 
 our stations. There, now, you may go back to the 
 schoolroom, and Sharpless will arrange your 
 drawers for you. She is your cousins attendant, 
 and will be yours as well." 
 
 Mrs. Sharpless followed me into the passage 
 with my handkerchief ; as she gave it into my 
 hands, she said in a low tone, 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 121 
 
 " Your copy-books are on the high shelf in your 
 closet behind the books, Mrs. Dolly. It is a good 
 place for them, and you might as well leave them 
 there." 
 
 I nodded assent, well pleased for the moment to 
 think they had escaped my aunt s eye. But, when 
 I had a little time to think, I must say that I 
 was not pleased to think this waiting-woman should 
 have my secret in her hands. She seems a good 
 woman, and very devoted to her young ladies, 
 especially to Meg ; and it was kind of her to save 
 me from being disgraced with my aunt, and per 
 haps sent back on my mistress s hands. Oh, dear, 
 I almost wish at times that I had never seen Mr. 
 Morley, and yet! But be as it may, there is no 
 iise in wishing things undone. 
 
 We dined at noon, as the fashion is now ; and, 
 being used to have my meal an hour earlier, I was 
 hungry enough. The table was beautifully set 
 out, and the dinner elegantly cooked and served. 
 But I can t say I enjoyed it very much. My 
 aunt seemed to watch every motion and every 
 mouthful. It was, 
 
 " Betty, where are your elbows ? " 
 
 " Margaret, hold your fork more easily. There, 
 now, you have dropped it," as poor Meg, startled, 
 let her fork fall with a great clatter. " One would 
 think you had lived in Wales or some other place 
 where forks have not yet come into fashion." 
 
 And so on to the end of the dinner. I noticed 
 that my cousins ate very little ; but, as for me, I 
 
122 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 made a good meal. After dinner we were dis 
 missed to dress for going out with my aunt. Meg 
 is about my height : so I was arrayed in one of her 
 dresses, which was almost too small for me, slen 
 der as I am. But by dint of twitching my stay- 
 laces so tight that I could hardly breathe, Mrs. 
 Sharpless got it on. 
 
 " Oh, dear, I can never breathe in this ! " said I. 
 
 " You must get used to it," said Betty. " Strait- 
 jackets are the fashion here, as well as in Bedlam. 
 You ought to be used to strait-lacing, Dorothy, 
 living among Presbyterians so long." 
 
 " That is a different kind of lacing," I answered. 
 "I have never been used to dress tight. My 
 mother and Mrs. Williams thought it very un 
 wholesome." 
 
 "And they are right. It is murderous," said 
 Betty. 
 
 "Hush, Mrs. Betty, you must not speak so," 
 said Mrs. Sharpless, but not unkindly. "You 
 don t think your mother would do any thing mur 
 derous, do you?" 
 
 " She would not mean to," said Betty, and that 
 was the end of the matter. 
 
 My aunt carried Betty and myself to the park 
 in her fine coach, to take the air among the great 
 folks ; but I don t think there were as many gay 
 equipages as used to be in the old king s time. 
 My Lady Castlemain was there, sulky and hand 
 some, lolling back in her carriage ; but I did not 
 see anybody take much notice of her. My aunt 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 123 
 
 seemed to have many grand acquaintances, and 
 even exchanged a few words with the king him 
 self. I think he looks more gloomy than ever. I 
 was presented to the Countess of Sunderland, who 
 had just stopped to take up Mr. Evelyn. He rec 
 ognized nie in a moment, and kindly asked after 
 my health, and when I had heard from my friend. 
 He also told me that Mrs. Patty, my little school- 
 friend, had gone to live altogether with her 
 great-aunt. My aunt was talking to my Lady 
 Sunderland ; but as soon as we separated she turned 
 and asked me, rather severely, where I had met 
 Mr. Evelyn, and who he was talking about. I 
 told her all about it ; whereat she remarked that 
 Lady Clarenham was a woman of good family, 
 though her father had taken the wrong side in the 
 late troubles, and that every one respected Mr. 
 Evelyn. 
 
 I must say I did not enjoy the drive. My stays 
 hurt me so, I could hardly breathe ; and I am not 
 enough used to the swinging motion of a coach to 
 like it even yet. Besides, the passing of the places 
 where I had been in other company did revive 
 my grief, and make me feel more than ever how 
 hungry my heart was for the sight of the dear one. 
 
 I liked it better when we went to the shops, 
 where my lady bought me a new Prayer-Book and 
 some other books of devotions and meditations, 
 and a beautiful sewing-equipage for my pocket, 
 and some toilet matters whereof I really did stand 
 in need. Betty timidly asked if she might buy a 
 
124 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 little flask of aromatic vinegar for Meg, saying 
 that it was good for her headaches. 
 
 " Yes, if you choose, though I think Meg s head 
 aches are mostly of the imagination," said my lady. 
 Betty s cheek flushed, and her lips were pressed 
 more closely together ; but they relaxed a little 
 when my aunt added kindly, " But I am pleased 
 to see you thoughtful for your sister, child. Here, 
 you may take a bottle of this distilled lavender, 
 also : I think she likes it, does she not ? " 
 
 "Yes, madam; answered Betty, and her face 
 grew softer than I had yet seen it. 
 
 In the evening my lady went to the play, with 
 her daughters. I was left behind as having noth 
 ing to wear, and I was not sorry. I wanted to 
 get off my dress for one thing, and to quiet my 
 head, which was all in a whirl. Certainly it 
 seemed to me the longest day of my life. 
 
 After I had practised my music an hour with 
 great delight, I took my work and sat down by 
 the open window, for it was very warm. The 
 house at the back overlooks some fine gardens, so 
 we have good air. I was sorry when Mrs. Sharp- 
 less came in and ordered me away, saying I would 
 take cold. I think I would like to be a gypsy or 
 a farmer s wife, and so live in the open air. 
 
 It was ten o clock when my cousins came up to 
 their room. Margaret looked very pale, I thought. 
 They were no sooner inside the schoolroom, than 
 Betty flew at her sister, undid her dress, and 
 unlaced her stays so quickly that the silk laces 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 125 
 
 fairly snapped. Margaret sank down in a chair 
 with a sigh of relief. 
 
 "Oh, how good that is!" said she; and then 
 she put her arms round Betty s neck, and her 
 head on her shoulder, and wept hysterically. I 
 brought the flask of lavender-water, and bathed 
 her head, and held my hartshorn salts to her nose ; 
 but nothing did any good till Mrs. Sharpless, who 
 had come in, said in a voice of kind authority, 
 
 " Come, come, Mrs. Margaret, this won t do at 
 all ! Your mother will hear you." 
 
 If I had children, I would not like to be held up 
 to them as a bugbear or a bogy. But it had its 
 effect in Margaret s case. She checked her sobs 
 with a great effort. 
 
 "I won t be so silly," said she, with a pitiful 
 smile. " Dorothy will think me a baby." 
 
 " Dorothy knows what it is to be tired and over 
 done," said I, as I kissed her. " But you will feel 
 better when you have rested." 
 
 Since then I have fallen into the ways of my 
 aunt s household, and my life goes on like clock 
 work. Rise at six and dress. Spend an hour in 
 our closets reading of some good book. Then to 
 church to prayers. Then home, to breakfast on 
 bread and butter, and cold water, or very weak 
 broth. My aunt says beer spoils the shape and 
 complexion. Then to appear before my aunt in 
 her dressing-room. Then she examines minutely 
 all the details of our toilets, trying our stays to 
 see if they are tight enough, and commenting on 
 
126 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 every stray hair. After that, we give her an ac 
 count of what we have read in our closets, and 
 read aloud to her the lessons of the day. Then 
 come our lessons, French and music and Italian. 
 My aunt will have both the girls learn music ; 
 and Meg makes great proficiency, but Bess hates 
 it : she has no ear, and does make the most terrible 
 work. In the afternoon we take turns, two to go 
 out with my lady, and one to stay at home, and 
 work at embroidery, or sometimes at plain white 
 seams for some poor body, for my aunt is very 
 charitable. She says we owe it to our position to 
 be kind to the poor, but I don t think I should 
 want any one to be kind to me in that way. Then 
 in the evening we go out somewhere, to a play, or 
 the opera, which is very fashionable just now ; or 
 to spend the evening with some friend of my 
 aunt s. 
 
 Certainly it is a very different life from that I 
 have been leading the last few years ; but I think 
 I go to bed at night quite as tired as I used to 
 when I was running half the day to wait on my 
 mistress. There are many pleasant things which 
 were wanting in my former life, love being the 
 best of all. I do really think my aunt loves me, 
 sharp as she is at times, and I know my cousins do. 
 Then, I have my lessons, especially my music, in 
 which Mr. Goodgreome says I make great progress ; 
 and there is the feeling that nobody grudges me 
 my living. My aunt is generous as the day ; 
 and if she checks us in eating and drinking (as I 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 127 
 
 must say she too often does), it is, as she says, for 
 our good, lest we should spoil our figures. I 
 believe I am very perverse not to be happy here, 
 but I am afraid I am not. But I must hurry to 
 put away my book. My work is all done, that is 
 one comfort. 
 
 August 15. 
 
 We had rather a painful scene yesterday, in 
 which poor Meg hath been the sufferer, which is 
 uncommon. It is generally Betty who comes in 
 for her mother s anger when she is angry, which, 
 in truth, is not very often. But we had been to 
 a play in which there was dancing ; and after we 
 were come home my aunt gave us the rather 
 uncommon indulgence of a little supper. She 
 was talking of the play and the actors, and re 
 marked that one of them, Becky Marshall, was 
 said to be the daughter of a Presbyterian minis 
 ter. She asked me if I had ever heard any thing 
 about the matter. 
 
 "Yes, aunt," I answered, "I heard Mr. Pen- 
 dergast say that her father was a most worthy 
 man, who, he thought, could hardly be happy in 
 heaven if he knew how his daughters had turned 
 out. I know that Mr. Pendergast went himself 
 to try to win the girls from their way of life, but 
 he did not succeed." 
 
 " I dare say not," said my aunt. " A woman 
 must be pretty well hardened in sin before she 
 would take to such courses ; exhibiting herself for 
 money, and in men s attire. But it was a kind 
 
128 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 and Christian act to try to rescue the poor creature. 
 Who is this Mr. Pendergast? " 
 
 "A Presbyterian minister, aunt, whom I used 
 to meet at my Lady Corbet s. He and his wife 
 were very good to me there." 
 
 " Oh ! " said my aunt, slightly disconcerted, I 
 fancy, that she had been betrayed into praising a 
 Presbyterian minister. " However, I won t say 
 that it was not a good and kind deed," she added ; 
 " though, as I said, a woman must be lost to all 
 sense of goodness before she would take such a 
 place at all. When I was young, no women ever 
 appeared on the stage. All the women s parts 
 were taken by boys ; and, as I remember, there 
 were some Bishop Hall for one who objected 
 even to that, and Mr. Prynne wrote an immense 
 book about it." 
 
 " But, madam," said Margaret timidly, u if it be 
 wrong for women to act on the stage, is it not 
 wrong for other women to go and see them, and 
 thus encourage them?" 
 
 My aunt looked at her daughter in amazement. 
 Margaret went on, as if she were determined to 
 free her mind for once, despite Betty s pinches, 
 and the warning glances of Mrs. Sharpless sent 
 from behind her lady s chair. " In the lesson we 
 read this morning, madam, the apostle tells us 
 that women are to be attired in modest apparel, 
 with shamefacedness, not with gold or pearls or 
 costly array ; and St. Peter, as I remember, says 
 the same. Now these poor creatures, I suppose, 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 129 
 
 take to the stage to make a living, and no doubt 
 they are bad enough. 1 But if we go to hear 
 them, and thus encourage them in their miserable 
 way of life, only for our idle amusement, are we 
 not more to blame than they? I must needs 
 think so." 
 
 " Marry come up ! What sort of Puritan 
 have I for a daughter ? " said my aunt angrily. 
 " Upon whom do you presume to sit in judgment, 
 mistress ? Do you not see all the very best ladies 
 of the court and in society at the play ? " 
 
 " And don t you see, Meg, that if we are to take 
 the apostles words for what they say, we are all 
 wrong together?" said Betty. "What becomes 
 of all our uncovered necks and bosoms and our 
 jewels and gold lace ? You would condemn us all 
 in a lump." 
 
 My aunt did not see the sarcasm at all ; but 
 giving Betty an approving nod, she bestowed on 
 Margaret a severe lecture for her perverseness, 
 ending with, 
 
 " Of course things are different now. We owe 
 it a duty to the world to dress according to our 
 station, and to follow the customs of society; and 
 it is not for chits like you to set up to dictate. 
 You are to do as you are bid." 
 
 " I have no wish to do any thing else," Margaret 
 began ; but her mother stopped her, bidding her go 
 
 1 It must be understood that I am speaking of the stage in the 
 time of the Stewarts. Of the stage at present I know next to 
 nothing, save that it is much better than it was then. L. E. G. 
 
130 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 to bed, and not appear before her again till she had 
 learned without book three parts of the 119th Psalm 
 in French. My aunt kept us to treat us to plum- 
 cake, seasoned with a lecture on the evil of young 
 people professing to know more than their elders. 
 As we went up-stairs, we heard Meg sobbing in 
 her room, but she would not let us in. This 
 morning she was up very early ; and, when we went 
 to my aunt, she had her task prepared, whereat my 
 aunt kissed and forgave her. But after all, think 
 ing it over, I can t see but Meg was right. The 
 Bible does say those very words, for I looked them 
 up afterward. I said as much to Betty. 
 
 u Of course she was right," said Bess ; " that 
 is, if there be any right or reality about it any 
 where. I would like to know where in the New 
 Testament my mother finds laid down the duty 
 which Christians owe to the world. I think I 
 will ask Dr. Tenison about that, if ever I have 
 a chance." 
 
 " But, Bess, all the ladies my aunt visits, and 
 those whom she holds up to us for examples, do 
 these things," said I. " My Lady Sunderland, as 
 particular as she is, was at the play last night." 
 
 " There was a time, or so I suppose, that all the 
 fine ladies went to see Christian men and women 
 and poor captives fight for their lives with wild 
 beasts," retorted Bess. " You know we read 
 about the vestal virgins yesterday, and how they 
 always had the best places." 
 
 " Anyhow I am glad my aunt hath taken Meg 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 131 
 
 into favor again," said I. " I could not but won 
 der at her coming out so. It was not like her." 
 
 " You will say it is just like her when you know 
 her better," said Bess. " Every now and then she 
 angers my mother in the same way. I wish she 
 would not ; for it does no good, and only brings 
 down a storm which hurts Meg, and some addi 
 tional task which hurts her still more. Don t you 
 see how pale she is to-day ? I dare swear she did 
 not sleep last night. I do think my mother is as 
 blind as a bat. Oh, how I wish something would 
 happen that we might go to my aunt Laneham s 
 
 again ! 
 
 " Why, where is she? " I asked. 
 
 " She lives in Biddeford, and my mother sent 
 us to her once when one of our servants had small 
 pox. Meg was happier there than I ever saw her, 
 though my aunt Laneham is poor, and our meat 
 and lodging were plain enough. But she went 
 out with my aunt and uncle to visit the poor folk 
 and the sick ; and then aunt knows how to let one 
 alone, which I believe my mother never can. O 
 Dorothy, I would do any thing in the world for 
 Meg ! " 
 
 " There is one thing you could do for her," 
 said I, " and that is to take more pains with your 
 music, and not make such dreadful noises on the 
 harpsichon." 
 
 Bess turned round and looked at me in amaze 
 ment, with her eyebrows lifted to the top of her 
 forehead so it was well my aunt did not see her. 
 
132 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said she. " You know 
 I have no ear. You said so yourself." 
 
 " I never said you had no eyes," I answered. 
 " See here. Your eyes tell } r ou that the notes in 
 that chord are B, D, and G, don t they ? " 
 
 " Yes, to be sure." 
 
 " And they also tell you what are the keys on 
 the harpsichon answering to those notes?" Bess 
 nodded. " Then why can t you play those notes 
 instead of scraping our ears by playing F and C ?" 
 
 Betty s eyebrows came down a little,, and she 
 looked like one who has received a new idea. 
 
 " Do you really think I could learn to play, 
 Dorothy?" she asked. 
 
 "I do think so. I won t say you could ever 
 make a great player. Your ear is not fine enough. 
 But you can learn to play correctly if you do but 
 take pains enough, and certainly that would be a 
 comfort to Meg. Her ear is so fine that every 
 discord is a torture to her, though she would never 
 say so." 
 
 " She is too sweet and patient ever to complain 
 of any thing," said Bess ; " the more shame that 
 she should be murdered by inches, which is what 
 my mother is doing." 
 
 " You should not say so," said I, shocked at her 
 words. " Come, now, play your lesson, and I will 
 overlook you if you like." 
 
 " And what about your French verb ? " 
 
 " Oh, I know it already ! Come, begin, and I 
 will count for you." 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 133 
 
 We really did get through the lesson very 
 decently, and I felt paid for all my pains by Bet 
 ty s glance when Meg said this morning, "You 
 pla} r ed that nicely, Bess. It was really a pleasure 
 to hear you." 
 
 When the lesson was done, Betty put her arms 
 round me and kissed me. 
 
 " I am so glad you came here, Dorothy. Are 
 not you, Meg ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! " says Meg. 
 
 " That is, for our sake I am," said Bess. " I 
 am not sure I am for yours." 
 
 " Then you should be," said I ; for I won t en 
 courage Bess in her discontent, which only makes 
 matters worse. " I am sure your mother is most 
 kind, far beyond any thing I had a right to 
 expect, in putting me, a stranger, on an exact 
 equalit}?- with her own daughters in all respects, 
 and presenting me to all her friends." 
 
 " Yes, that is a great privilege," muttered Bess. 
 
 " It is a privilege, as you would know, if you 
 had been motherless so long as I have," I an 
 swered. " Granting, for the sake of argument, 
 that my aunt makes mistakes, yet you must see 
 that all she does is with a view to our good. She 
 said last night that if she could see us well settled 
 in the world she would be ready to leave it." 
 
 " Does she not talk like a preacher ? " said Betty, 
 turning to Meg. " Granting, for the sake of 
 argument. Did you learn that from your Mr. 
 Pendergast, Dorothy." 
 
134 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 I never mind Betty s mocking speeches; for 
 to me, at least, there is no unkindness in her 
 mockery. 
 
 " I never learned any thing but good of him, and 
 I dare say I might have learned more than I did," 
 I returned. 
 
 " What sort of person was he ? " asked Margaret ; 
 " was he a gentleman? " 
 
 " I don t exactly know what you mean by a 
 gentleman." 
 
 "What! you don t know what is meant by a 
 gentleman, when you see such shining examples 
 before you every day ! " said Betty. " Look at 
 my Lord Chesterton, if you want the model of a 
 gentleman." 
 
 "He certainly was not a bit like my Lord Ches 
 terton," said I, " for he was a little, meagre man, 
 very poorly dressed. But I must say I liked him 
 much the best of the two, if I must compare 
 them." 
 
 " And he did not flourish his snuff-box, nor 
 swear every other word, nor tell stories about 
 Mrs. This and Lady T other, and boast of the 
 conquests he had made ? Of course he could not 
 be a gentleman," said Bess. 
 
 " Don t let us spoil our holiday talking of such 
 things," said Margaret. " I hate the very sound 
 of them. Sing us a nice song, Dorothy. Sing 
 that lovely hymn of Bishop Ken s that Mr. Good- 
 groome brought us the other day, and let us forget 
 the world for a little." 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 135 
 
 I sung the hymn, and then another that I 
 learned of Bab Andrews, about the golden city 
 of Jerusalem, with which Margaret was greatly 
 delighted, and asked me who was the author. I 
 told her it was writ in Latin by St. Bernard, I 
 believed ; but I did not tell her that it had been 
 done into English by poor Mr. Fairchild, as a fare 
 well token to his mistress. I felt as if Bab s 
 confidences were sacred. 
 
 " That just suits Margaret. Would you not 
 like to be a nun, Meg? " asked Betty. 
 
 " No," said Meg, after a little consideration, " I 
 don t think I should. I would like to live as my 
 aunt Laneham does, or like my Lady Jemima 
 Stanton, that the dean s wife took us to see once 
 when we were little girls. Don t you remember?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Bess. " What a happy 
 day we had ! But I am not sure I should like to 
 live like my aunt Laneham all the time, to wear 
 grogram and homespun, and count every sixpence 
 and every slice of bread as she does." 
 
 "Is she so very penurious, then?" I asked, 
 thinking of my mistress. " I don t think Meg 
 would like that at all, not if she had had my 
 experience." 
 
 " My aunt Laneham is not one bit penurious," 
 said Meg, rather indignantly. " I never saw 
 people so openhanded as she and my uncle. But 
 he is a clergyman, with a large parish, and a not 
 very large living ; and my aunt is obliged to spare 
 that she may have wherewith to be generous." 
 
136 Through Unknown Ways ; or, 
 
 " That is a very different matter," I answered. 
 " That is like Mr. and Mrs. Pendergast, if you are 
 not tired of hearing about them." 
 
 " I am not," said Meg. " I like to hear all 
 about such people. Tell us more about them." 
 
 So we sat down, I with my knitting, which 
 my aunt highly commends, and has given me silk 
 thread enough for a pair of hose, and the girls 
 with their white seam, and I told them all I knew 
 about the minister s family and household, how 
 poor they were, and what hard work they often 
 had to appear even decently clad; and how Mrs. 
 Pendergast and her oldest daughter Beulah went 
 about among the poor folks, and had the little 
 ones come to them to learn to read and sew ; and 
 so on, making a long story out of a little, because 
 I saw that Meg was pleased. When I stopped at 
 last, 
 
 "I don t see but good people are much alike 
 everywhere," said Meg. " This minister s wife 
 seems very much like my aunt Laneham." 
 
 "What is that?" said my aunt, opening the 
 door. " What about aunt Laneham ? " 
 
 I started, she came in so quietly, but Meg 
 answered tranquilly, 
 
 " I was only saying, madam, that my aunt was 
 like a very good woman Dorothy was telling us 
 of, who visited the poor and sick, and taught little 
 maidens to read and sew." 
 
 " Ah, poor sister Laneham ! She threw herself 
 away dreadfully. She might have been living in 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 137 
 
 one of the finest country-houses in Devon ; but 
 she would have her own way, and she got it. I 
 always thought her parents much to blame in 
 giving in to her. But your grandfather and 
 grandmother were very lax with their children. 
 Talking of clergymen, Margaret, I hear you were 
 not at church this morning. How was that ? " 
 
 " I was there, madam ; but I felt faint and ill, 
 and so sat under a window, that I might have the 
 fresh air," answered Meg. 
 
 " Oh, very well ! Lady Carewe told me she did 
 not see you." 
 
 "Spiteful, tattling old toad!" muttered Betty 
 between her teeth, which my aunt, overhearing, 
 rewarded with a sharp rap from her fan-handle, 
 which was meant for her shoulders, but unluckily 
 fell across her cheek instead, making a red bar on 
 the white skin. Betty uttered a cry of pain ; for 
 she has been having the toothache lately, and her 
 cheek is very tender. Meg started forward, her 
 pale cheek flushed for dhce. 
 
 "You must not give way to these megrims, 
 Meg," said my aunt, taking no notice of Betty. 
 " They are more than half fancy, and the more you 
 give way to them, the more you may. Let me see 
 you down-stairs in an hour, nicely dressed. My 
 Lady Sunderland has lent us her box for the play 
 to-night. Dorothy, you may wear your green 
 silk, and Margaret may do the same. Betty will 
 wear her old black silk." With that she left the 
 room ; and Meg and I set ourselves to comfort 
 
138 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 and quiet Betty, who was in an agony of rage 
 and shame, and of pain as well, for the blow had 
 set her teeth to aching. I know one thing : if 
 ever I have a grown-up daughter, I will never 
 strike her. 
 
 " You cannot go to the play to-night, Bess, that 
 is one comfort," said Meg ; and indeed her face 
 was swollen and angry, and growing worse every 
 moment. 
 
 "I will go," said Bess. "I will shame her 
 before all the company." 
 
 " Shame your own mother ! " said I. " Remem 
 ber, her shame is yours ; and, beside, my aunt did 
 not mean to strike your face." 
 
 All we could do did not avail to prevent Bess 
 from going down to the parlor ; though her face 
 was a woeful spectacle, with a fiery red bar across 
 it, and the blood settling round her eye. Luckily 
 there were no strangers present. My aunt did 
 look disconcerted for a moment. 
 
 " You cannot go to the play in this state," said 
 she. " I did not mean to strike your cheek, nor 
 to strike so hard." 
 
 " It does not matter, madam," answered Betty. 
 
 " Don t answer me in that tone, child," said my 
 aunt, more gently than I expected. " Do you 
 not know, Betty, that young folks must be cor 
 rected sometimes? How else would they be 
 fitted to take their proper places in society ? My 
 whole desire is to see Margaret and yourself, and 
 Dorothy too," she added kindly, " well settled in 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 139 
 
 the world, and answering to what the world 
 expects of ladies in your condition." 
 
 "And what about the other world, madam?" 
 asked Bett}^, who had got the bit between her 
 teeth, and was reckless of consequences. " That 
 is a world, which, if all we hear be true, is likely 
 to last a good deal longer than this. How about 
 that?" 
 
 My lady looked really grieved. 
 
 "I did not expect such a question from my 
 daughter," said she. " Do I not take all the pains 
 possible with your religious education ? Do I not 
 give you the best books of devotion that can be 
 found both in French and English ? Do I not send 
 you to church every day and twice on Sundays? 
 What more can I do? But there, I pardon you, 
 child. You have your father s temper, and one 
 must make allowances. Go to your room, and bid 
 Sharpless make a poultice for your face, and I will 
 send you some custard for your supper. But try 
 to rule your spirit, Betty, and do not doubt your 
 mother s love, though she may think it needful to 
 cross you at times." 
 
 I saw that Betty was softened in a moment, 
 though she said nothing. Meg ventured to ask 
 if she might stay with her sister, but my aunt said 
 no. She had made up a party for her box, and 
 could not have it broken up. So we went to the 
 play ; and there we met Lord Chesterton, who 
 devoted himself to Meg all the evening, much to 
 her annoyance. I could not but wonder if it were 
 
140 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 necessary to the character of a fine gentleman to 
 take the name of God in vain at every breath, as 
 they all do. Mr. Evelyn is as fine a gentleman 
 as any of them, and I never heard him do it. It 
 used to scare me dreadfully at first ; but I am 
 growing used to it, and even find myself catching 
 up the words, which some ladies use very freely, 
 I find. 
 
 August 20. 
 
 I have seen Mr. Morley. 
 
 We went to church as usual this morning. 
 Ursula Jackson comes every Sunday with her hus 
 band, and I have got a habit of looking for her, 
 and sometimes of speaking when we meet. My 
 aunt doth not object, because she says we owe it 
 to ourselves to be civil to all, each in their degree. 
 Well, I looked round as usual, after we had cour- 
 tesied to my Lady Carewe (a wonderful object she 
 is in her black locks and rouged cheeks, which 
 show the crow s feet and wrinkles through all her 
 paint). Well, I glanced toward Ursula s pew as 
 usual, and there sat Mr. Morley. I was so aston 
 ished I could hardly command myself. While 
 I was looking, Ursula and her husband came in ; 
 and Mr. Morley rose to make room for them, with 
 a polite salute, which Mr. Jackson returned, 
 though he looked like a small thunder-storm. Mr. 
 Morley bowed very particularly to me ; and I 
 returned his salute, not knowing what else to do. 
 
 When we came out, my aunt asked me who it 
 was that had bowed to me. I told her it was a 
 
Mrs. Studhys Diary. 141 
 
 distant cousin of Lady Corbet s, whom I had met 
 at her house. 
 
 " One of her way of thinking? " she asked. 
 
 " No, madam," I answered. " He has a com 
 pany in Col. Kirke s regiment." 
 
 " Ay, I thought he looked like a soldier," was 
 her comment. 
 
 As we passed out, I heard Mr. Jackson rating 
 the old pew-opener for daring to put a stranger 
 into his seat. The poor old woman protested that 
 she meant no offence, saying the gentleman had 
 told her he was Mrs. Jackson s cousin. Ursula 
 stood by without a word. I fancy she hath met 
 her match, arid I am not one bit sorry if she has. 
 
 What was my surprise, on coming down in the 
 evening, to find Mr. Morley with my aunt, and 
 evidently in favor ! 
 
 " Mr. Morley has brought me a letter from your 
 father, girls," said my aunt, as she presented him 
 to us. " He is on his way up to town, and as Mr. 
 Morley passed him on the road he was kind enough 
 to take charge of a packet. Your father was 
 obliged by business to stop a few da} r s on the 
 road, but he will be here the last of the week." 
 
 Both the girls uttered exclamations of joy. 
 They are clearly very fond of their father, who I 
 fancy is more indulgent than their mother. 
 
 " Sir Robert is happy in having such affection 
 ate daughters," said Mr. Morley, bowing ; " and I 
 an glad to find my old acquaintance, Mrs. Dolly 
 Corbet, in such pleasant circumstances." 
 
142 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " Yes, my girls are fond of their father, who 
 spoils them dreadfully," said my aunt, looking not 
 ill-pleased, however. " Dorothy has not yet seen 
 her uncle." 
 
 Mr. Morley staid to supper, and made himself so 
 agreeable that I felt proud of him. Of course, 
 we had no chance to talk together in private ; but 
 it .was enough for once to be in the room with him, 
 to hear his voice, and catch now and then a glance 
 from his eye meant for me alone. When at last 
 he took his leave, my aunt asked him to come 
 again. I should be the happiest girl alive only that 
 Meg has taken an unaccountable dislike to him. 
 When I ventured to ask her what she thought of 
 him, " Why, as I thought when I saw the great 
 American viper that Mr. Boyle showed us in his 
 museum," said she. " His head hath just the same 
 shape ; only they say the viper gives warning when 
 he is about to strike, and I doubt this one would 
 not." 
 
 " You are not used to be so uncharitable, Meg," 
 said I, very much vexed. 
 
 " Perhaps I am wrong," said she, " but I took a 
 dislike to the man the moment I saw him." 
 
 " You ought to like him because he is my 
 friend," said I. 
 
 " That is the very reason I don t," she rejoined. 
 
 " And what say you, Betty ? " I asked. " Don t 
 you like him, either ? " 
 
 " I don t like or dislike him," said Betty. " He 
 is like all the rest, stale, flat, and unprofitable. 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 143 
 
 Oh, how I do hate it all ! But I am glad my 
 father is coming up : do you know why ? " 
 
 " Because you wish to see him." 
 
 " Yes, and because I know very well he will 
 never endure to stay here long. He hates London 
 as much as I do, and you will see he will whisk 
 us down to dear old Devon before three weeks 
 are over ; and oh, how glad I shall be ! Won t 
 you, Meg?" 
 
 " Yes, if I go," said Meg wearily. " Dolly, 
 will you let Sharpless come to me first to-night, I 
 am so tired ? " (For we take turns in being first 
 waited on.) 
 
 " You may have her all the time, for all I care," 
 said I. " You know I am used to dressing myself. 
 But why do you say, if I go ? Of course you 
 will go with us." 
 
 She shook her head sadly, but said not one 
 word, as she passed into her room and closed the 
 door. I looked at Betty. 
 
 " What does she mean ? " said I. 
 
 "I don t know," answered Betty, "only Meg 
 always thinks she shall die young. But there 
 may be another reason. Come into my room, 
 Dorothy." 
 
 She shut the door, and said in a low tone, " I 
 think my mother has a match in hand for her." 
 
 " You don t mean Lord Chesterton ! " I ex 
 claimed, rather more loudly than was prudent. 
 
 " Hush ! " said Bess. " Yes, I am afraid so." 
 
 " But she cannot abide him ! " 
 
144 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 "He is an earl s son and probable heir to a 
 dukedom," said Betty bitterly. 
 
 " And an atheist, open and avowed." 
 
 " Well, not exactly that. You know it is the 
 genteel thing for men to have doubts about re 
 ligion." 
 
 I thought of Mr. Morley, and was silent for a 
 moment ; then I asked, " But what think you 
 your father will say ? " 
 
 " He would not let Meg be sacrificed or I 
 think not if she were utterly set against this 
 man," answered Betty slowly ; " though Sir Robert 
 rarely interferes with my mother. I think you 
 will love him, Dolly, though he is rather rough 
 in his ways at times. But I don t know that his 
 oaths and stories are any worse than those of the 
 fine gentlemen that visit my mother." 
 
 "I don t see how they could be. But, Bess, 
 don t be too much cast down. It may well be 
 that we are borrowing trouble about Meg." 
 
 " Well, I hope so. There is one tiling about it, 
 I don t believe any one she marries will trouble 
 her long. Good-night, Dolly." 
 
 August 27. 
 
 My uncle has come, a big, roistering country 
 gentleman, who kissed me on both sides of my 
 face, and bade God bless me, and in the same 
 breath damned his man for not bringing his 
 bootjack. But I like him for all ; there is 
 something real and genuine about him. He 
 scolded about our pale cheeks, vowed he would 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 145 
 
 have us out stag-hunting, and asked me if I 
 could ride. 
 
 "I don t know, uncle. I am like the man in 
 the jest-book, who said he did not know if he 
 could play the fiddle, because he had never tried." 
 
 He laughed a great, hearty laugh, and said he 
 was glad to see I had a spirit of my own. Then 
 turning to his elder daughter, 
 
 "Why, Meg, thou lookest more like a white 
 bind-weed than ever. What ails thee, child ? " 
 
 " Margaret hath been a little drooping, but we 
 shall soon have her better," said my aunt. " Will 
 you not wash and dress before supper, Sir 
 Robert?" 
 
 " Oh, ay, I suppose so ! " said he, and strode 
 away whistling. The house seems brighter already 
 for his presence. He hath begged a holiday for 
 us, that he may take us to see the sights. My 
 aunt gives in to him wonderfully, and Betty hangs 
 on him like a burr. He has taken us to see the 
 lions in the tower, and some other sights, and 
 given us two or three drives out of town to one 
 resort and another. Among others we went to 
 Hackney, and saw the place where I went to 
 school. The old house was pulled down, and a 
 new one was going up, which I suppose my poor 
 mother s three hundred pounds helped to build. 
 I would I had the ordering of a few clever hob 
 goblins for the owner s benefit. He would not 
 stay long in his fine mansion. 
 
 Mr. Morley hath called two or three times, and 
 
146 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 hath even dinecl with us. My uncle says he is a 
 rising man, in favor at court, and like to do well. 
 He hath paid me some attention, but of course 
 we have no chance to talk together in private. 
 Only last night we had a few words over the 
 harpsichon, where he had been singing with me. 
 
 " I am afraid you don t care for me any more, 
 Dolly," said he. " Your grand friends and ad 
 mirers have made you forget your poor soldier of 
 fortune." 
 
 "I know not why you should say that," I 
 answered. " Would you have me run after 
 you?" 
 
 " Ah, I see you have learned repartee! But do 
 you remember our interviews in the park? I 
 would we could have another such walk together 
 as we had that last morning. Come, meet me 
 to-morrow in the old place." 
 
 " I cannot if I would, and I would not if I could," 
 said I. " I promised solemnly I would never do 
 that again." 
 
 " And to whom did you give that promise ? To 
 your amiable mistress, or to her vinegar-faced 
 waiting-woman ? Pshaw, Dolly ! Vows were made 
 to be broken." 
 
 " I tell you it is impossible ! " said I. " You 
 might as well ask me to meet you in the moon." 
 
 My aunt called me at that moment, so I could 
 say no more. I don t know how it is : I ought to 
 be the happiest girl in the world now that I can 
 see Mr. Morley so often, and that my uncle and 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 147 
 
 aunt like him ; but I am not. I suppose perfect 
 happiness is not for this world. 
 
 September 1. 
 
 My uncle already talks of going down to Full- 
 ham, and the girls are well pleased. I don t want 
 to go at all. 
 
 September 2. 
 
 The murder is out. Lord Chesterton has made 
 proposals for Margaret, and been accepted. My 
 uncle pished and pshawed a little about giving his 
 Meg to a courtier, but gave in when my aunt rep 
 resented the likelihood of Meg s being a duchess ; 
 for the duke s elder son is lately dead, and the 
 other is a poor, sickly little lad. Margaret says 
 little, but makes no objection. She grows thinner 
 and paler every day ; but my aunt does not seem to 
 notice it, or has not till lately. Now she makes her 
 take a little ale with her dinner, and two or three 
 nights she hath herself brought her a cup of wine 
 whey at night. I cannot make Meg out. Some 
 times I think she is pleased with the thought of 
 being a duchess and living in that grand house, 
 though that is not like her. For my own part, I 
 would rather live in a cabin with the man I love. 
 I said as much to Meg one night. 
 
 " And so would I, perhaps, if things were differ 
 ent," said she, with a moonlight smile ; " but, as it 
 is, it does not matter." 
 
 "Why do you always say that?" I asked. "I 
 think it matters a great deal." 
 
 " If you were to stay only an hour or two at an 
 
148 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 inn on your way home, you would not care much, 
 though your accommodations were rough, and 
 your companions not greatly to your mind," said 
 Meg. 
 
 " I don t understand you," said I ; but I had no 
 chance to ask any more, for my lady called us to 
 see the splendid presents of jewels and lace that 
 the duke hath sent to Margaret. The poor little 
 boy fades every day, they say, and the duke treats 
 his nephew already as his heir. I never in all my 
 life saw such pearls, as big as peas, and of a 
 wonderful purity and lustre. And there is a 
 sapphire jewel, in a ring, which is like a piece out 
 of the blue sky. Meg regarded them all with the 
 same tranquil gravity with which she looks at all 
 the splendid preparations for her bridal. 
 
 44 My uncle has been very kind, has he not ? " 
 said Lord Chesterton, who had himself brought 
 the jewels. 
 
 44 Yes, every one is very kind," said Margaret 
 gently. 
 
 44 But you don t care for the silly things, after 
 all?" said he, looking earnestly at her. (I do 
 think he is in love with her.) 44 Mrs. Margaret, 
 what can T do to give you a pleasure ? I would 
 sell my soul to see you look pleased for once." 
 
 Margaret turned her lovely eyes upon him with 
 an earnest expression. 
 
 44 Then if you would realty please me, my lord, 
 there is one thing you might do, and that is to 
 break off such expressions as you used just now." 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 149 
 
 (For he had confirmed his words with an oath, 
 as usual.) " I beseech you to break off this habit 
 of taking God s holy name in vain on every 
 light occasion. That indeed would give me great 
 pleasure." 
 
 " Well, I will," said he, kissing the hand she 
 had laid on his arm in her earnestness. " I know 
 tis a bad habit ; but, after all, it means nothing." 
 
 "That is just the trouble," said Meg. "It is 
 against that very meaningless invocation of the 
 holy name that the command is aimed. I beseech 
 you, my lord, if you care for me, to break it off." 
 
 " I will try, indeed I will," said he ; " I ll be " 
 Then catching himself up with an embarrassed 
 laugh, " There it is, you see. But indeed, Mar 
 garet, I will try, if only to please you." 
 
 I never liked my lord so much as at that mo 
 ment. He forgot his affectations, and looked and 
 spoke like a man. My aunt, coming back just 
 then, began praising the jewels. 
 
 " I never saw any thing so beautiful," said she. 
 " Of what do they remind you, Margaret ? " 
 
 " Of the twelve gates that were twelve pearls," 
 said Margaret ; " and of the walls of the city that 
 are built of precious stones." 
 
 I saw the tears come to my Lord Chesterton s 
 eyes as he turned away to the window. 
 
 " You see my daughter is very religious," said 
 my aunt. 
 
 " I would not have her otherwise, madam," he 
 answered. " My own mother is a devout woman, 
 
150 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 and prays for her scapegrace of a son every day. 
 Perhaps her prayers may be answered : who knows? 
 I think you will love my mother, Margaret. 
 You and she will take pleasure in trotting about 
 to the cottages together, and the north winds will 
 blow some roses into these pale cheeks. I do 
 hope you will like my mother." 
 
 "I am sure I shall," said Margaret, with far 
 more interest than she had showed in the jewels. 
 " Does she visit among the poor folk ? Tell me 
 about her." 
 
 Lord Chesterton looked as pleased as a boy at 
 having found something to gratify his lady, and 
 they talked together a long time. I believe there 
 is good in him, after all. 
 
 I heard a bit of good news to-day ; namely, that 
 Mr. Baxter is released from prison on payment of 
 his fine, which it seems was raised by his friends. 
 I wonder if my mistress gave another seven shil 
 lings. Mr. Morley brought the news, adding that 
 folks said his Majesty was courting the Dissenters. 
 
 " And what is that for ? " asked my uncle, who, 
 I believe, thinks of Dissenters as of some trouble 
 some kind of weeds or animals. 
 
 " I can but tell you what is in men s mouths," 
 said Mr. Morley. " Tis rumored that his Majesty 
 intends to issue an act of toleration to his own 
 sort of people, and that he will include the Dis 
 senters, so as a little to take off the edge, as it 
 were." 
 
 " And they will jump at the chance, of course," 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 151 
 
 said my uncle ; " and we shall have a conventicle 
 at every corner, eh, Dolly ? Don t you think so ? 
 Won t your Presbyterian friends jump at the 
 chance ? " 
 
 " I think not, sir," I answered. " Once when 
 the matter was talked of I heard one of their di 
 vines say that they would not accept toleration on 
 any such terms." 
 
 "And did you ever see this Mr. Baxter, this 
 Kidderminster bishop as Jeffreys called him ? " 
 asked my uncle. 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir, many times ! He was very kind 
 to me. I am glad with all my heart he is out of 
 prison." 
 
 My aunt frowned. "You are too forward, 
 Dorothy," said she. " Nobody asked your opinion 
 about the matter. Young ladies should be seen, 
 not heard." 
 
 " Oh, let her alone ! I like to hear the wench 
 stand up for her friends," said my uncle. " But 
 you are not a Presbyterian, are you, Dolly? We 
 can t have that, eh, Mr. Morley ? 
 
 "No, sir, I am not a Presbyterian; but I have 
 had good friends among them, as you say." I 
 answered. 
 
 " That s well, and I am sorry for the poor things 
 out our way," said my uncle musingly. " I do think 
 they have had very hard measure, very needlessly 
 hard ; no offence to you, Mr. Morley." 
 
 " I cannot take offence where none is meant," 
 said Mr. Morley. " You know, sir, that war is a 
 
152 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 rough trade, and Col. Kirke s lambs learned it in 
 a rough school." 
 
 " True, tis a rough trade, but it need not be 
 made rougher," said my uncle ; and he began to 
 tell one tale after another of horror, which made 
 me sick. Surely Mr. Morley did never stain his 
 hands with such cruelty. He has always seemed 
 so kind-hearted. 
 
 After dinner my aunt took me to task sharply 
 for my forwardness. She has been sharp with me 
 several times of late, and also with Betty ; while 
 she is very tender and gentle with Margaret. 
 
 September 3. 
 
 Our new rector preached to-day, a very fine 
 sermon, I thought, on the words, " He that be- 
 lieveth on me hath everlasting life." I saw my 
 aunt look displeased at some passages, but Marga 
 ret drank it in as if it had been the water of life. 
 As for Betty, I fanc} r she never listens to a ser 
 mon, but she did give the preacher some of her 
 attention to-day. 
 
 "Well, and how did you like the preacher?" 
 said my uncle, when we came home. 
 
 " I cannot say that I liked him," replied my 
 aunt. "It seems to me that his doctrine, if re 
 ceived, would make room for all sorts of immo 
 ralities. If a man only believes right, he can do 
 whatever wrong he pleases." 
 
 "Under your favor, madam, I think not so," 
 said Margaret. " Do you not see that any one 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 153 
 
 who in his heart believes in the Lord Jesus Christ 
 must needs act so as to please him ? Such a person 
 would make a conscience of his very thoughts, 
 knowing that by them he must please or displease 
 the Holy Ghost dwelling in his heart." 
 
 " That is rather an awful thought, Mrs. Mar 
 garet," observed Lord Chesterton, who had come 
 to dine as usual. 
 
 " Awful, but comforting," said she, giving him 
 one of the sweet smiles she bestows on him nowa 
 days, and which make him flush like a boy. 
 
 " Well, well, we won t debate the preacher at 
 present," said my aunt. " Go, girls, and make 
 ready for dinner." 
 
 " So you liked the preacher," said I, as we went 
 up-stairs. 
 
 "Yes, indeed" she answered with earnestness. 
 " I think he hath taken the last stone out of my 
 road." 
 
 I did not understand her, and there was no time 
 to ask. We went to church again in the afternoon. 
 but we heard nothing of the sermon ; for Meg 
 fainted, and had to be carried into the vestry. 
 She revived presently, enough to be taken home 
 in the coach which my lord sent for ; but she has 
 not been up since, and looks badly. 
 
 September 6. 
 
 Margaret has been down to-day for the first 
 time since her fainting on Sunday, but she looks 
 pale. My aunt makes light of her illness to her- 
 
154 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 self, but I see she watches her very closely. Betty 
 attends on her like her shadow. She and I sleep 
 together now. As we are to have so much com 
 pany in the house, my room will be needed as a 
 guest-room. As we were going to bed, I be 
 thought me to tell Betty of Meg s words, and ask 
 what she thought they meant. 
 
 " I don t know," answered Betty. " I don t 
 pretend to understand such matters." 
 
 " I think Margaret likes Lord Chesterton better 
 than she did," said I. 
 
 " Yes, I said as much to her ; and she told me 
 she was afraid so," said Betty. 
 
 "What did that mean? Why should she be 
 afraid of liking her bridegroom too well," I asked. 
 " I should say the more she liked him, the better." 
 
 " You are just as blind as all the rest," answered 
 Betty impatiently. " Can t you see an inch before 
 you? I don t so much wonder in your case, but 
 I am astonished at my mother. But some people 
 never will believe what they don t like to believe. 
 I suppose when my mother sees Margaret in her 
 coffin, she will understand at last." 
 
 " You think that Margaret is seriously ill, then ?" 
 said I, startled. 
 
 " I think she is dying, and so does Sharpless," 
 answered Betty. " She will never wear her bridal 
 dress, unless she is buried in it." 
 
 " But why should you think so ? What ails 
 her ? " 
 
 "She has been murdered ! " said Betty, setting 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 155 
 
 her teeth hard ; " murdered by inches with tight 
 lacing and late hours, and physic to improve her 
 complexion, and all the rest of my mother s 
 regimen." 
 
 " Hush ! " said I. " You should not say so. 
 Your mother means nothing but what is right, I 
 am sure." 
 
 " Oh, yes, she means ! " retorted Betty. " She 
 means to take an angel, and make her a woman of 
 the world ; but the angel has grown weary, and is 
 pluming her wings for flight. You will see, if you 
 will not believe. O Meg, Meg, how shall I ever 
 live without thee ! " And with that she burst 
 into tears, and wept so bitterly that my aunt 
 heard her, and came in to see what was the matter. 
 I told her that Betty was grieved about her sis 
 ter s health, fearing she was seriously ill." 
 
 " Is that all ? " said she, but not unkindly. 
 " My dear child, you are fanciful, and are torment 
 ing yourself to no purpose. Do you not see that 
 your sister is better already ? Do but notice what 
 a sweet flush she has in her cheeks. These faint 
 ing-fits are but the natural agitation of spirits at 
 the prospect before her. A month hence you will 
 see your sister a happy bride, and then you will 
 laugh at your present fears. Come, dry your eyes, 
 and go to bed, and all will be well. I am not dis 
 pleased with you, child. There, good-night." 
 
 I was glad that Betty was crying too much to 
 answer her mother a word, for I am always afraid 
 of one of her tantrums. I hope she is mistaken, 
 
156 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 but I do think Margaret is more out of health 
 than her mother imagines. 
 
 I can t but think of Betty s words about making 
 an angel into a woman of the world. Now, the 
 Scriptures talk all the way through as though 
 the world were the enemy of God, even going 
 so far as to say that any one who is a friend of 
 this world must be an enemy of God. And yet, 
 so far as I can see, my aunt lives for the world : 
 yes, just as much as ever my mistress did ; thougli 
 one cares most for wealth, and the other for fash 
 ion and position. And I don t see how one is a 
 bit better than the other. My aunt will bow to, 
 and exchange visits with, women whom it is impos 
 sible she can respect ; she will even abase herself 
 to ask favors of them : and why is that any better 
 than the doing of mean things for money ? She 
 does seem to me wholly inconsistent. She gives 
 us a book like " The Practice of Piety " or " The 
 Divine Breathings," 1 books inculcating the very 
 soul of purity and consecration to God, to read 
 in the morning ; and in the evening she takes us 
 to see a play which turns on successful wicked 
 ness, and where the name and the laws of God are 
 treated with equal disrespect. My mistress would 
 read the Bible and Mr. Baxter s tractates in the 
 morning, and spend the rest of the day over her 
 accounts, or in exacting the last halfpenny of 
 
 1 This most admirable little book has lately been reprinted in 
 this country, by Young. I wish some one would do as much for 
 the Practice of Piety, which is now very rare. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 157 
 
 usury from some poor debtor. Arid I don t see, for 
 my part, why one is a bit better or worse than 
 another. My mistress talked of owing it to her 
 self to do so and so. My aunt talks of our duty 
 to the world or to society, which is only another 
 name for the same thing. But the Bible seems to 
 say that the duty we owe to self is to deny it, and 
 the duty we owe to the world is to renounce it, 
 and to labor for its conversion. Now, Bab An 
 drews really has given up the world ; and so, 
 according to Meg s account, hath my aunt Lane- 
 harn ; and I am sure the Pendergasts and Mr. 
 Baxter did not live for it. And, from what Lord 
 Chesterton says, I should think his mother was 
 much such a lady as my aunt Laneham. And I 
 am sure my Lady Clarenham does not live for the 
 world. 
 
 And there is another thing. My aunt goes to 
 church and to the holy communion, and says the 
 Creed, and professes to believe all the Prayer- 
 Book teaches ; and yet she is not only willing, but 
 delighted, to give her daughter to a man like Lord 
 Chesterton, who is an open unbeliever, and whose 
 course of life hath been somewhat notorious, be 
 cause he is of great family and heir to a dukedom. 
 No, I don t understand the matter at all. 
 
 September 12. 
 
 Margaret is really ill. She lies in bed most 
 of the day, not suffering very much, except 
 from weakness and from the pain in her right side 
 
158 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 which has troubled her ever since I knew her. I 
 don t know just what the doctor thinks ; but the 
 wedding, which was to have been on the 15th, 
 is necessarily put off. My Lord Chesterton is 
 like one distracted, coming two or three times 
 a day to ask for his lady, and scouring city and 
 country for fruit and flowers and any thing that 
 can give her pleasure. ^1 never thought to like 
 him half so well. I see there really was* a man 
 hidden behind the fop and courtier. For one 
 thing, he hath left off swearing at every other 
 breath ; and, when a hard word does escape, he 
 looks heartily ashamed. My uncle rallied him, 
 telling him he was growing a Puritan ; whereat he 
 answered that he would turn Quaker, like Will 
 Penn, if it would please his mistress, at which my 
 uncle clapped him on the shoulder and called him 
 a good fellow. 
 
 September 15. 
 
 It was to have been the wedding-day, but no 
 one says a word about weddings now. Only my 
 aunt will have it that Meg is better, which no one 
 else can see. 
 
 September 18. 
 
 Meg seems a little brighter. I said as much to 
 Mrs. Sharpless, but she only shook her head and 
 turned away. She has had no hope from the first ; 
 yet she is the most cheerful person in a sick-room 
 I ever saw, more so even than dear Mrs. Williams. 
 The new rector hath been to see Meg, at her re 
 quest, and hath read and prayed with her. She 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 159 
 
 seems to find great comfort in his ministrations. 
 He is rather a plain, awkward man, but I must say 
 he is a much more interesting preacher than old 
 Dr. Martin. He hath prayed for Meg in church. 
 When I told my aunt of it, thinking she would be 
 pleased, she was not so at all j saying that Marga 
 ret was not so bad as that, and it would be time 
 to pray for her in church when the doctor gave 
 her up. 
 
 I saw Ursula this morning in church; and, as we 
 were detained a little in the porch by a passing 
 shower, we had time for quite a chat. She looks 
 rather thin and worn, I think. I asked her if she 
 were well. 
 
 "Yes, well enough, if that were all," she an 
 swered pettishly, and then asked me if I ever saw 
 Mr. Morley. I told her he was acquainted with 
 my uncle, and visited at our house, but that he 
 was soon going down to the west again. 
 
 * Don t you see him?" I asked. 
 
 "No, not often," she answered, turning scarlet, 
 as though with some unpleasant remembrance. 
 " Dolly, whatever you do, never marry a jealous- 
 pated old man." 
 
 I did not know what to say to this, so I asked 
 after Bab Andrews. 
 
 "She is well," was the reply; "but she has 
 taken an odd crotchet in her head since her father 
 died." 
 
 "Oh the good old man, is he dead? How 
 sorry I am ! " said I. " Bab will be very lonely. 
 
160 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 But what do you mean by a crotchet, Ursula ? I 
 did not think Bab was given to them." 
 
 " No, I know she is perfect in your eyes," said 
 Ursula. "Well, she hath come to the conclusion 
 that England is not good enough for such a saint 
 as herself: so she is even going to leave it, and 
 betake herself to the New England Colonies." 
 
 "She told me once she thought she might do so, 
 if she were left alone," said I ; "but it was not to 
 New England she talked of going, but to some 
 newer colony farther to the south. I cannot think 
 of the name now." 
 
 " Ah, well, it does not matter ! It is much the 
 same thing. I can t think what should possess her, 
 for she is left very well off, and might live as she 
 pleased. But it seems Mr. Fairchild s sister and 
 her husband went thither a year ago, and she 
 means to join them. And so Mr. Morley comes 
 often to see you, Dolly ? " 
 
 " I did not say so," I answered, vexed to feel 
 myself blushing. " He is an acquaintance of my 
 uncle, as I told you." 
 
 "Well, don t lose your heart to him, lest you 
 should find he hath more than one string to 
 his bow," said Ursula with an ill-natured laugh; 
 but the rain holding up there was no more time 
 for converse, at which I was glad. I do wish I 
 could see Bab once more. 
 
 September 20. 
 
 I have had that pleasure, through my kind 
 uncle s intercession. I was coming down stairs, 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 161 
 
 when my aunt called me into her room, where an 
 elderly serving-man was waiting, whom I recog 
 nized at once as living with Mr. Andrews. My 
 aunt held a note in her hand. 
 
 " Dorothy, do you know Mrs. Barbara An 
 drews ? " she asked. 
 
 "Yes, madam," I answered: "she is the daugh 
 ter of the rich goldsmith who died not long ago." 
 
 14 Oh, I know him ! " put in my uncle. " He lived 
 in Lombard Street, a very worthy man and one 
 who was of service to his late Majesty in the matter 
 of raising money. He did me a good turn once, in 
 the same way. Yes, yes, I remember him. And 
 so your master is dead," addressing himself to the 
 serving-man. " Well, well, I am sorry. Did he 
 leave any family ? " 
 
 " One daughter, sir," answered old Andrew. 
 
 " It is this young lady who writes to me, very 
 properly and nicely I must say," observed my 
 aunt. " She tells me she is about to go to Amer 
 ica, and asks the favor of a day s visit from Doro 
 thy." 
 
 "And you would like to go, eh, Dolly? Your 
 face sa} T s as much," said my uncle. 
 
 "Yes, sir; I should like it greatly," I answered. 
 " Mrs. Andrews was the only friend of mine 
 own age I ever had till I knew my cousins." 
 
 " So much the better," said my aunt. " I am 
 no great believer in girlish intimacies; but as this 
 young person is going away so far What say 
 you, Sir Robert ? " 
 
162 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " Oh, let her go, let her go ! " said my uncle. 
 " Old Mr. Andrews s daughter is sure to be a pat 
 tern of all the graces, eh? " addressing himself to 
 the serving-man, who answered, 
 
 "Mistress Barbara is one of the salt of the earth, 
 sir, the image of her mother now in glory." 
 
 " Well, I am sure I hope so," said my uncle, in 
 his kindly, blunt fashion. " Oh, yes, let her go, 
 my lady ! She hath had but a dull time lately. 
 Let her go to please me." 
 
 This is my uncle s usual plea when he begs us 
 a holiday, and my aunt never refuses him. With 
 an indulgent smile she bade me get ready to go 
 with Andrew, for whom she ordered a cup of ale 
 to be brought. I was not long in dressing, and 
 was soon on my way. I found Bab looking much 
 as usual, but very pretty in her mourning. The 
 house was already partly dismantled ; but Bab s 
 own rooms, her bedroom and her little parlor, were 
 untouched. 
 
 "Why, this is a pleasure I hardly dared expect! " 
 said she, taking off my hood and kissing me ; " but 
 I thought I would not fail of it for lack of ask 
 ing. Your aunt must be a kind lady." 
 
 " She is so, though rather strict in her notions," 
 I answered ; " but I believe we owe our debt 
 rather to my uncle, who used to know your good 
 father. But where is your aunt ? " 
 
 " She hath taken a lodging near to my sister 
 Staines in the country," said Bab. " She would 
 fain have lived with them, but my brother Staines 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 163 
 
 would not have that. He told Hester he would 
 do any thing for aunt Jones except live with her." 
 
 "I don t blame him," said I. 
 
 " So he has fitted up this cottage for her, and 
 Andrew s sister lives with her to attend on her," 
 continued Bab. "I hope she will be as happy 
 there as anywhere. As you say, Dolly, I do not 
 blame my brother Staines for not wanting her to 
 spoil his children s comfort and his own. But oh, 
 Dolly, what a sad sight is unloving and unlovely 
 old age ! " 
 
 " It is, indeed," said I, thinking of my mis 
 tress. u But was it that drove you to seek peace 
 and quietness in a new settlement among the 
 Indian savages ? " 
 
 " Why no, not exactly, though I will not deny 
 that I find my aunt s absence a great relief. But 
 my aunt Atherton, my mother s sister, is left quite 
 alone by the death of her last daughter ; and you 
 know I always professed myself fond of travelling : 
 so, as some friends of mine are going out, I thought 
 I would even go with them, and try my fortune in 
 the New World." 
 
 " You have other friends there beside your aunt, 
 have you not ? " I asked ; whereat she told me of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Stacy, who had gone thither the 
 year before, and read me a letter she had from 
 Mrs. Stacy. If I did not know her to be one of 
 the most particular persons in the world, I should 
 set down some of her accounts for mere traveller s 
 tales ; as, that the people go a-gathering of their 
 
164 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 peaches with carts, the fruit hanging on the trees 
 like onions in ropes, and as delicate as our best 
 wall-fruit, and cherries by the cartload, beside 
 many wild fruits, such as strawberries, gooseber 
 ries, hurtleberries, and cranberries, which last are 
 admirable for tarts and sauces, and many more such 
 particulars. 1 Mrs. Stacy says the savages about 
 them are peaceable, good neighbors, and some of 
 them are Christians. She sent Bab a long neck 
 lace of their beads, made from shells, and which 
 they use as money, and value above all things. 
 This necklace Bab gave me for a remembrance. 
 She also gave me a watch, a toy I have long wished 
 to possess ; and this is a very pretty one, with 
 a gold enamelled case, and a pretty picture on the 
 back. I had spent a guinea on a book for her, 
 " The Imitation of Christ," by Thomas a Kempis, 
 which Meg values more than any book in her 
 closet, and on a working-case for the pocket, a 
 good, .sensible, substantial one, which I thought 
 she might find useful. 
 
 The day was all too short for what we had to 
 say ; and now, that we are parted, I can think of a 
 hundred questions I had to ask. Bab asked me 
 when I had seen Ursula, and I told her of our 
 conversation in the church porch. 
 
 " I fear she is not happy," said Bab. " She said 
 as much to me as that she was sorry she did not 
 marry Mr. Morley." 
 
 1 See Robert Stacy s letters quoted in the Historical Collec 
 tions of New Jersey, a very valuable book. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 165 
 
 "I don t believe she ever had the chance," I 
 said, vexed at myself for being vexed. 
 
 " I am not sure. He was very devoted to her 
 at one time, but Ursula was bent on making a 
 rich marriage. And so, no doubt, she has; but 
 she may find, as many another hath done, that 
 riches do not bring happiness. There are many 
 things that money can t buy." 
 
 " That is true," said I. " I believe Lord Ches 
 terton would give any thing to restore poor Meg 
 to health." 
 
 " Is she then so ill ? Tell me about her," said 
 Bab ; and so I did. She was much interested, 
 and asked about the state of her mind. I told 
 her. 
 
 " The dear young lady ! " said Bab. " She hath 
 been taught of God, and he makes her way easy. 
 I would I could send her something to comfort 
 her." 
 
 " I wish she knew you ; you would just suit 
 each other," said I ; and I do really think so, 
 though Bab would not go inside a church for the 
 world. 
 
 While I was there a ship s captain, an old friend 
 of her father s, sent her a fine hamper of melons 
 and grapes from Portugal ; and nothing would 
 serve but she must put up some of the finest for 
 Margaret. We parted with many tears, and Bab 
 promised to write me when she arrived at her new 
 home. My aunt was rather displeased with me 
 for being so late, but relented when she saw tlu 
 
166 Through Unknown TT"///s ; or, 
 
 beautiful fruit Bab had sent to Margaret. She 
 was pleased, also, to commend my watch, and to 
 say that Mrs. Andrews seemed a kind-hearted 
 girl, and one of a good taste and fancy. She 
 especially admired the lace kerchief and cap of 
 her own work which Bab gave me, saying they 
 were neatly done and very prettily fancied. 
 
 " See there, Betty," said she ; " you might work 
 as well as that if you would have patience and 
 take time." 
 
 "I suppose Mrs. Andrews likes such work," 
 said Betty. 
 
 " I don t think she is so very fond of it," said I ; 
 " but her father was fond of seeing her work, and 
 Bab would do any thing to pleasure her father." 
 
 " And Betty will not do every thing to pleasure 
 her mother," said my aunt. 
 
 "That is not quite true, mother," answered 
 Betty ; and I saw she was moved, by her using the 
 word which she seldom does. " I would do any 
 thing I could do to please you when you put it in 
 that way ; but when people talk of doing things 
 because the world expects it, and because society 
 demands it, I do not care a fig, and that is the 
 truth. I never made any promises to the world, 
 only to renounce it." 
 
 I expected my aunt would be displeased, as she 
 generally is at Betty s outbreaks, but she did not 
 seem to be. 
 
 " Then, my daughter, will you not try to please 
 your father and mother ? and we will say nothing 
 
Mrs. Dudley s Diary. 167 
 
 about your bugbear of the world," said she. " I 
 begin to fear that you will soon be my only 
 daughter, and I am growing old. Will you not 
 try to comfort your mother, child ? " 
 
 Betty was at her mother s feet in a moment ; and 
 T, thinking it best, stole out and left them together. 
 I do wonder, seeing how easily Betty is touched 
 by petting and indulgence, that my aunt should 
 not try it oftener. If I read Betty aright, she is 
 one to be led rather than driven. 
 
 September 20. 
 
 The doctor says Margaret must have change of 
 air; and the duke, my Lord Chesterton s uncle, 
 has offered for her benefit a small house he hath 
 in the neighborhood of Richmond, and we shall 
 remove thither next week, giving up this house, 
 as my uncle intends going down to Devon as soon 
 as Meg s health renders it possible. I am pleased 
 with the prospect, for I have never lived in the 
 real country. The only thing Meg regrets is 
 losing the ministrations of Mr. Newington, our 
 new rector, who has been such a comfort to her ; 
 but he says he will come to visit her, and tells her 
 that she will like the rector there, who is a friend 
 of his. The house whither we are going is all in 
 order, so we shall have little trouble. 
 
 My uncle hath had an attack of dizziness, the 
 blood rushing to his head so as to make him all 
 but senseless for a few minutes. He makes light 
 of it ; but I see he drinks no more strong ale or 
 Burgundy wines, but contents himself with small 
 
168 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 beer, claret, and the like. I do hope nothing will 
 happen to him. 
 
 October 1, Cross Park. 
 
 We came down to this lovely place almost a 
 week ago. Meg bore the journey very well, and 
 even enjoyed it, especially after we got fairly out 
 of the city, and she seems better since we came ; 
 she has even walked a little on the terrace, from 
 whence is a most lovely prospect, and she has 
 eaten with a little more appetite. My aunt is 
 once more full of hope, and talks about setting 
 the wedding-day soon ; but I don t think Sharpless 
 has any hope. 
 
 Mr. Morley has gone down to the west about 
 some business for the king, who, it seems, shows 
 him great favor. He came to see us before he 
 left, and told my uncle in parting that he hoped 
 to see him soon again on most important business. 
 He looked at me as he spoke, and smiled mean 
 ingly. I do wonder whether there is any thing in 
 what Bab said about Ursula s refusing him. He 
 ever said to me that he did not like her at all, 
 though as his cousin he must needs pay her some 
 attention. Heigho ! It is very delightful to feel 
 that one is loved, and to love in return ; yet me- 
 thinks love doth bring much disquiet in its train. 
 My aunt says I am growing thin, and will have 
 me take milk and cream ; and I know my spirits 
 are more variable than ever they were before. 
 But I try to put my own concerns aside, that I 
 may be a comfort to Betty, who does not in the 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 169 
 
 least believe in her sister s amendment ; nor, I 
 must say, do I. I remember how my poor friend 
 Emma looked, and she revived in the same way 
 just before the last. 
 
 This is a most lovely place. The house is old, 
 with man} r passages and odd corners, and with 
 much oak wainscot, which makes it rather dark ; 
 but there are plenty of windows, and, as the ex 
 posure is to the west and south, we have abun 
 dance of sun. The park is small, and so are the 
 gardens, but both are very pretty. Especially 
 pleasing to Meg is the view of the parish church, 
 which is very small and old, and overgrown with 
 splendid ivy. It stands in the midst of the church 
 yard, wherein is a broken stone cross, said to be 
 of great antiquity. The rector is an old and 
 white-haired man, of great dignity of manners, 
 and a sweet, but somewhat sorrowful, face. He 
 hath already visited Meg, who likes him greatly. 
 
 Lord Chesterton has taken a lodging near by, 
 and comes to see his lady every day. I never saw 
 a man so changed. He, who used to say life was 
 not worth having away from the court and the 
 theatres, is now content to spend day after day 
 in this quiet place, sitting by Meg s arm-chair, 
 or giving her his arm along the terrace in the 
 short walk she takes every pleasant day. He 
 even reads the Scriptures to her, as she sits in 
 the sunny window of the hall. His very face 
 seems changed. He and Meg have many long 
 talks together, on which no one intrudes. I do 
 
170 Through Unknown Ways ; or, 
 
 think Meg is learning to love him, and I cannot 
 wonder. 
 
 My aunt will have Betty and myself go for a 
 walk every day ; and we have explored all the 
 nooks and corners of the park, which, though not 
 large, is varied, with little hills and dells. In one 
 of these latter is a beautiful great spring, over 
 which, in olden times, someone lias built a little 
 shrine, with a seat, and an inscription of which I 
 can make out only one word, " Pray," I sup 
 pose an invitation to pray for somebody s soul. 
 The shrine is all in ruins, but the spring gushes 
 forth clear and sparkling as ever. The old house 
 keeper says it is accounted good for a waste, and 
 Meg has taken a fancy that it tastes better than 
 any other : so I often go early in the morning to 
 bring her a jugfull, that she ma} 7 drink it the first 
 thing. 
 
 This same housekeeper Mrs. Mary Miles 
 is a dear old soul. Instead of being vexed at the 
 increase of her trouble from our coming, she is 
 greatly pleased, makes all sorts of dainty dishes 
 with her own hands to tempt Meg s appetite, and 
 is always filling Betty s pocket and mine with 
 sugarplums and comfits, which she has great skill 
 and equal pleasure in preparing. It seems the 
 good rector is her cousin. 
 
 October 15. 
 
 Our dear, precious Meg is dead and buried. 
 She died just one week ago, and was buried yes 
 terday in the churchyard here, just under the 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 171 
 
 walls of the little gray church. It was at her own 
 request that she was laid there, instead of being 
 taken down to the family bury ing-place in Devon. 
 She had been quite bright for two or three days, 
 even coming once to the dinner-table. That after 
 noon she sent for Lord Chesterton, and had a long 
 private talk with him, and afterward with her 
 mother. I came into the room unwittingly to 
 bring Margaret some late violets I had found in 
 the garden ; and as I did so I heard my aunt say, 
 in a somewhat forced tone of cheerfulness, " Dear 
 daughter, you are fanciful. The doctor says you 
 are better. We hope you may be able to be 
 married before long." 
 
 " But something here tells me a different story," 
 said Meg, laying her hand on her heart. " Dear 
 mother, will you not promise that it shall be as I 
 desire ? That can do no harm." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I promise!" said my aunt; "but I 
 shall see you go thither to be married first." 
 
 I could not but think of the words, "None so 
 blind as those that won t see ; " but my poor aunt 
 was soon undeceived. Betty was worn out, and 
 lay down, but I did not : I felt so sure that some 
 thing would happen before morning. It was a 
 mild, bright, moonlight night, with a soft, inter 
 mittent breeze sighing among the trees. The 
 sound did remind me of soft, downy wings hover 
 ing near ; and, as the cloud-shadows passed over 
 the grassy slope, I almost fancied them the shad 
 ows of those same wings. It was just at the turn 
 
172 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 of the night when I heard Sharpless come quickly 
 out of Margaret s room and knock at my aunt s 
 door. Betty heard it, too, and was up in an in 
 stant. When we went in, we found Meg sitting 
 up in bed, her head supported on her father s 
 breast. Her eyes were fixed with a strange, mys 
 terious brightness, as on some wonderful and glo 
 rious sight ; while on her face lay ah, how well 
 I knew it ! that awful gray shadow that never 
 falls but once, the shadow cast by the wing of 
 death. She never looked at us as we came in, or 
 showed any consciousness of our presence, till her 
 mother, taking her cold hand, said tenderly, 
 "Dear love, what do you gaze at?" 
 " Angels," whispered Margaret, " bright angels." 
 " Don t disturb her," said my uncle hoarsely. 
 " Let her be." 
 
 We stood round in silence, till the old white- 
 haired vicar, whom Mrs. Miles had sent for, 
 kneeled down, and said the commendatory prayer. 
 Then all at once Meg reached out her hands with 
 a bright, happy smile, as of a tender little babe that 
 sees its mother coming. 
 
 " I am ready, take me ! " she said, and in a 
 moment she was gone. 
 
 My poor aunt fainted, and revived only to fall 
 into fits of the most violent weeping. I do think 
 she was almost as much shocked as if Meg had 
 been taken in perfect health. She had so per 
 suaded herself that her daughter must get well 
 because she willed it so. Betty was like one 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 173 
 
 turned to stone. I could hardly get her out of 
 the room ; and she was so strange, that I almost 
 feared for her reason. At last, however, I won 
 her to tears, and she wept herself to sleep. I 
 could not sleep ; and as it grew light a little I 
 went down to walk on the terrace, that the cool 
 air might refresh my hot forehead. I had been 
 there but a few minutes, when Lord Chesterton 
 came up the avenue, riding at full speed, his horse 
 all in a foam, and his groom hardly able to keep 
 up with him. He flung himself from his horse, 
 which, poor beast, was only too willing to 
 stand, and caught me by the hand. 
 
 " Am I too late, after all ? " he asked ; and, read 
 ing the truth in my face, he strode hastily away to 
 the other end of the terrace, where he threw him 
 self on a seat, and wept like a little child. I took 
 it upon me to bid the groom take his horses to 
 the stables. Then I stood a moment or two uncer 
 tain what to do, not liking to intrude on the poor 
 gentleman s grief, nor yet to leave him alone. At 
 last he seemed to calm himself in some measure, 
 and rose from the seat where he had thrown him 
 self, and I went to meet him. 
 
 u Tell me how was it," he said. " Why did no 
 one send for me ? " 
 
 I told him there was no time, that my aunt 
 had apprehended no immediate danger, nor even 
 the doctor. 
 
 " Ay, none so blind as those that won t see," 
 said he, using the very words I had applied to my 
 
174 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 aunt in my own mind. " Did you think she 
 going to get well ? " 
 
 I told him no ; that I had had little hope from 
 the beginning, and I knew Meg had thought for a 
 long time that she should die young. 
 
 " She was an angel, a white dove," said my lord ; 
 " and God hath taken her home lest she should 
 smirch her fair plumage by contact with such a 
 carrion kite as I have been all my life. But I am 
 a changed man, Dorothy," he added, pressing my 
 hand with a force that almost made me scream. 
 " My dearest Margaret hath showed me the way, 
 and gone before me; and, by God s grace, the 
 poor remainder of my days shall be passed as she 
 would have it. Oh, my beauty, my pearl ! " And 
 with that he fell to weeping again, and I could 
 but weep with him. At last I persuaded him to 
 come into the house and take some refreshment, 
 and then to lie down on the settle and rest. 
 Surely, if darling Meg s short life had been the 
 means of redeeming this one soul, she hath not 
 lived in vain. I am sure that is more than I have 
 ever done. But I am going to try to be a better 
 girl. 
 
 Meg was buried yesterday. She had especially 
 desired that there should be no pomp or parade 
 about the funeral, but that the expense should be 
 bestowed upon the poor of the parish, specially 
 that each old woman of the almshouses by the 
 church-gate should have a warm gray gown, and 
 each of the villager s children a new frock of dark 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 175 
 
 blue. The little things lined the path from the 
 churchyard gate to the grave ; and after the coffin 
 was lowered they threw upon it flowers and 
 sprigs of yew, till it was quite hidden with them. 
 The day was a lovely one, the sun setting in great 
 pomp of crimson and gold ; and a dear little robin, 
 perched on one of the church-windows, sang all 
 through the service. Betty fainted when the 
 earth first fell on the coffin, and hath been but 
 poorly ever since, though she makes brave efforts 
 to keep up, and devotes herself to waiting on her 
 mother. 
 
 I can t help wondering whether my aunt will 
 go back to the same course of life again, as soon 
 as her mourning is ended. I hope not, for Betty s 
 sake. I am sure of one thing : my aunt never 
 could drive Bess into marrying any one she did 
 not like. She would run away, or do something 
 desperate. She is made of very different stuff from 
 Margaret. 
 
 October 18. 
 
 My uncle is in some trouble. I don t know 
 what, but it is something connected with money. 
 From what little I hear, I fancy he hath been spec 
 ulating, as so many do nowadays, and hath been 
 unlucky. He is dejected in spirits and does not 
 look well. 
 
 My Lord Chesterton hath taken leave of us, 
 going home to the north to visit his mother, who 
 it seems lives all alone in the old family mansion. 
 The poor little cousin is dead, so he is really the 
 
176 Through Unknown Ways ; or, 
 
 next heir to the dukedom. I hope I am not un 
 charitable, but I do think it no small addition to 
 my aunt s grief, to think that she cannot now 
 be mother-in-law to a duke. She is fretful and 
 low, and it is no easy matter to please her. I 
 think she misses the diversion of her town-life, 
 the visiting and play -going and parks. I miss 
 them too, I must say, for I had grown fond of 
 them, especially of the theatre ; but, then, I like 
 being in the country, and running about out of 
 doors, which my aunt does not. I heard her tell 
 Mrs. Petty, who came to give us a visit of condo 
 lence, that she should be inconsolable but for the 
 thought that she had done every thing for the wel 
 fare of her dear daughter. And yet I know that 
 the doctor said that Margaret s illness and death 
 were in a great measure owing to her tight dressing. 
 He said her ribs had actually grown into her liver. 
 He said, too, that a great many growing girls are 
 killed in that way, and added, using some strong 
 language, that he would like to burn every pair of 
 steel stays in the land. And yet my aunt is just 
 as particular as ever about our lacing ourselves. 
 Now, I should be but a poor creature without my 
 stays, having always worn them, but I will not 
 have them very tight. Luckily, I am naturally a 
 firm, tight figure, so my aunt does not find me out. 
 
 October 20. 
 
 My uncle tells us we are to get ready to go 
 down to Devon in two weeks. Till then, by the 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 177 
 
 duke s kindness, we remain here. To-day came 
 from London beautiful presents from Lord Ches 
 terton for Betty and myself; namely, two minia 
 ture portraits of dear Meg, done from the one he had 
 made for himself before we left town. They are 
 incased in gold, and set with small brilliants, and 
 suspended each on a pretty gold chain. He hath 
 sent Mrs. Sharpless a noble Bible and Prayer- 
 Book in large print, and a gift of money for each 
 of the other servants. The pictures are very fine 
 likenesses. My aunt was much pleased, and lauds 
 him to the skies, and then weeps again that her 
 dearest Meg should have been taken away just 
 when she had such a prospect of rank and hap 
 piness. But I can t think Meg will care a great 
 deal about missing an earthly coronet where she is 
 now. 
 
 Somehow my aunt seems to me to live so on the 
 outside of things. But I need not say any thing. 
 I have tried very hard to be good since Meg died. 
 I have read the Bible, and said my prayers, and all 
 that ; but all seems dead and lifeless. Half the 
 time, when I am saying the words with my lips, 
 my mind is occupied with some play I have seen, 
 or I am going over and over again every talk 1 
 ever had with Mr. Morley. I do wonder when 
 he is coming back. He said, at parting, that he 
 should not be gone many days. 
 
 This morning Mrs. Miles asked me if I would 
 take my walk down to the vicarage, and carry to 
 the rector some confection of quince seeds which 1 
 
178 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 she has been making for his throat; and I was 
 glad of an errand to go thither for I have learned 
 to love the old gentleman. He lives in great sim 
 plicity, with an old couple for servants, who, I 
 fancy, carry things pretty much their own way. 
 We fell into talk about my former way of life, and 
 I mentioned, I know not how, the name of Mr. 
 Baxter. 
 
 " Ah, my good old friend ! Did you know 
 him ? " he asked ; and on my saying that I did, and 
 had often met him, . * 
 
 " We were college mates and the best of friends 
 once," said he, sighing, "but our paths led differ 
 ent ways. We studied divinity together ; but he 
 was the more confirmed in his notions, while I found 
 myself obliged to change mine. The worst is that 
 my old Presbyterian friends will not believe that 
 I joined the Church of England from pure con 
 viction, but will persist in thinking that I had an 
 eye to worldly advantage ; though, would they but 
 visit me, they would see for themselves that the 
 proverbial church mouse is no poorer than I am." 
 
 " I would not think Mr. Baxter could be so 
 prejudiced," said I. " He seemed such a good 
 man, and he was always so kind to me." 
 
 " He is a good man, and could not be otherwise 
 than kind to one in your hard position. But he is 
 a man of strong feelings and deep convictions, and 
 he hath suffered much in what he believes the 
 cause of truth. And besides," he added, smiling, 
 u I dare say he thinks of his old chum as a purse- 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 179 
 
 proud priest rolling in riches. But I believe that 
 some day we shall meet when all these clouds will 
 have passed away, and all true lovers of their Lord 
 will see eye to eye, and know as they are known/ 
 
 He then began to tell me of a poor young 
 widow whose two little children were but scantily 
 off for clothes, and asked me to interest my aunt 
 for them. I promised I would try to do so, and 
 said if aunt were willing, and I could buy some 
 suitable woollen yarn, I would knit some warm 
 hosen. Whereupon he told me of another poor 
 woman, a spinster, who lives at the other end of 
 the village, and supports herself by her wheel and 
 her needle, and said he thought she would be glad 
 to sell me some wool. He seems to know the cir 
 cumstances and wants of every poor person in the 
 parish. I do think the duke might augment his 
 living, and make the vicarage at least water-tight. 
 I think a few hundred pounds might as well be laid 
 out in that way as in paying for copies of Mr. 
 Lely s pictures of court beauties. I know that 
 Lord Chesterton gave Mr. Miles a present, and 
 money for new altar-cloths and a new chalice, in 
 memory of his mistress. 
 
 October 22. 
 
 My aunt consenting, Betty and I got the direc 
 tion from Mr. Miles, and walked to see the woman 
 who had the yarn to sell, Mercy Lane by name. 
 We found her living in the tiniest little cottage, 
 standing alone by itself, all neat and in good 
 repair, and surrounded by a garden, wherein 
 
180 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 grew pot-herbs and vegetables, gooseberry and 
 currant bushes, and two or three large apple 
 and pear trees, and also a fine nut-tree. The good 
 woman was within, sitting at her wheel, in blue 
 homespun gown and apron, and a snow-white ker 
 chief and cap. She has been handsome in her 
 day, and is still a comely woman. Her kitchen 
 was as clean and neat as a new trencher, as Mrs. 
 Williams used to say; and a small wood fire made 
 it look still more cheery. On a form near this fire 
 sat three or four little children conning their 
 horn-books, who jumped up and let off quite a 
 little battery of bobs and courtesies at us. I 
 never saw a prettier sight. 
 
 The good woman received us with all kindness, 
 setting stools for us, and sending one child for a 
 jug of fair water from the spring, and another on 
 some other whispered errand. We told her what 
 had brought us to see her, on which she produced 
 quite a store of very nice yarn. I bought enough 
 for two pairs of little hose, telling her what it was 
 for. She seemed much pleased. 
 
 " I am very glad," said she. " Martha Giggs is 
 a worthy woman, and does all she can to help her 
 self, but her health is not good. This is one of 
 the children," she added, calling to her side one 
 of her pupils, a little curly, flaxen-headed mite, 
 whether boy or girl I could not tell, till the 
 creature, with much blushing and poking of its 
 chin into its neck, said its name was " Merthy." 
 
 "She is my god-daughter. explained our hostess. 
 
Mrs. Studletfa Diary. 181 
 
 " And you keep a little school," said Betty. 
 
 " But a very small one,, madam. These are all 
 young children, as you see, and I can do little but 
 keep them out of mischief; in winter I have a 
 class of larger girls. I have but little learning 
 myself; but I make shift to teach them to read 
 their Bibles, to sew and to spin, and to say their 
 Belief and Commandments. I could have many 
 more if I had room for them." 
 
 " Is there no village school ? " I asked. 
 
 u No, madam. Mr. Miles has tried to prevail 
 with the duke to build one, but without success 
 hitherto." 
 
 Again I thought of that picture-gallery. Pic 
 tures are all very well, no doubt ; but surely these 
 little living images of God are worth as much as 
 they, and likely to outlast them by a good many 
 years. 
 
 " And what do your pupils pay you, if I may 
 ask ? " inquired Betty, more interested than I have 
 seen her about any thing since Meg died. 
 
 " Surely, madam," answered Mercy. " The lit 
 tle ones those who are able pay a half-penny 
 a week, the elder girls a penny. Then I now and 
 arid then get presents at holiday time. Last Easter 
 one farmer s wife sent me a fine setting of auk 
 eggs to put under my hen, and they have all done 
 well. The duke s steward allows me the privilege 
 of gathering dry sticks and pine-cones in the park, 
 and the children like nothing better than to help 
 me about it. Then I have a good market for my 
 
182 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 yarn, and my apples and nuts bring me something 
 in fruitful years." 
 
 " And what rent do you pay ? " asked Betty. I 
 wondered at the question, for she does not use to 
 be so inquisitive. In that she differs from me, 
 who am a bit of a gossip. 
 
 "No rent, madam," answered Mercy, with a 
 little gentle pride. " The place, such as it is, is 
 mine, as it was my father s before me." 
 
 "I wonder you never married," said I, but 
 repented of my thoughtless words when I saw 
 how her face flushed and her lip trembled. " I 
 crave pardon," I added : " I was very rude." 
 
 " There is no need, madam," said Mercy with a 
 smile. "I was betrothed once, but my sweetheart 
 was carried away to serve in the king s army, and 
 I never saw or heard of him again." 
 
 " How very sad ! " we both said ; and Betty 
 added, " Worse than if you had known him to be 
 killed." 
 
 " Yes, the suspense was dreadful, but it is over 
 now," said she calmly. " I know if he had been 
 alive he would have come back to me somehow ; 
 and I have the assurance in my heart that he is at 
 rest, for he was ever a godly man." 
 
 " I think you are a happj^ woman, Mercy," said 
 Betty abruptly. 
 
 " And you think truly, my dear young lady," 
 answered Mercy with her sweet smile. " I am a 
 happy woman. I have a small provision laid by 
 for my old age, my health is good, and I have the 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 183 
 
 comfort of knowing that I am useful to my little 
 ones and my neighbors. If I had a wish " 
 
 " Well, if you had," said Betty, as she paused. 
 
 " It would be to see a good school set up in this 
 village, to keep the lads and maids from running 
 wild as they do. But I hope that may come in 
 time." 
 
 We rose to take our leave ; but Mercy would have 
 us sit while she feasted us on pears, and gathered 
 for us a nosegay of late flowers from her garden. 
 Mrs. Miles had filled our pockets with almond com 
 fits after her usual fashion, and we treated the 
 children to them. I suppose they never saw any 
 before, but they soon found out the use of them. 
 
 " That is a happy woman, Dolly," said Betty, 
 as we were walking homeward. 
 
 " She is a contented woman, at any rate," I re 
 plied, " and a useful one, to boot." 
 
 " She is a happy woman," persisted Betty. " I 
 would I were as happy. She makes me think of 
 Lady Jemima Stantown, with her family of young 
 orphan ladies about her. I always thought I 
 would like to live in that way." 
 
 " You would not like to be as poor as Mercy, to 
 wear a homespun blue gown, and live upon a shil 
 ling a week?" 
 
 " Mercy is rich on a shilling a week. Did you 
 not hear her say she had laid by something ? As 
 to the blue homespun, I would as soon wear that 
 as any thing. I don t care about dress." 
 
 " But you would not like to spin for a living," 
 
184 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 and live on brown bread and stirabout, with a bit 
 of meat on Sundays and festivals." 
 
 " I would not care," persisted Betty. " I don t 
 think these outside things have much of any thing 
 to do with happiness or unhappiness." 
 
 But I think I should care. I do like pretty 
 things and nice things and to go to the play now 
 and then. And then that sad tale about her lover : 
 I am sure I never could be happy again if such a 
 thing were to happen to Mr. Morley. I wish he 
 would come back. 
 
 October 25. 
 
 I do think I am the happiest girl in all the 
 world. Mr. Morley lias asked me in marriage of 
 my uncle, and lie hatli consented, provided that 
 inquiries respecting Mr. Morley s character and 
 prospects should turn out satisfactory. I am not 
 afraid of that. My uncle cannot expect a rich 
 bridegroom for me. seeing I have nothing of mine 
 own ; and every one says Mr. Morley is high in 
 favor with the king. 
 
 My aunt would have kept the matter from me 
 till all was settled, I believe ; but my uncle blurted 
 all out, as his way is. I am glad of it. I would 
 not lose one minute of my new-found joy. I can 
 hardly believe in it even yet. My uncle goes to 
 London to-morrow, and I suppose will make all 
 needful inquiries. 
 
 I can t help wishing Mr. Morley were not an 
 unbeliever, but perhaps I may be able to bring 
 him round as Meg did Lord Chesterton. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 185 
 
 My aunt is much pleased at my prospects. She 
 has always liked Mr. Morley. Only she wishes 
 my uncle could give me a suitable dowry. He 
 would do so, only that, as I learn for the first time, 
 he hath had great losses of late, so that he is some 
 what cramped for ready money. As it is, how 
 ever, aunt says I shall have a wedding outfit 
 suitable to my quality, and it shall go hard but 
 she will raise a small sum for my private purse. 
 Betty says little, only that she shall be sorry to 
 part with me. She always saw with Meg s eyes ; 
 and for some reason I never could understand, 
 Meg always disliked Mr. Morley. 
 
 I wonder where we shall live. In town, I sup 
 pose, and at the court end, as Mr. Morley has a 
 place in the household. I hope we shall have a 
 pleasant lodging. I shall like the ordering of my 
 own little family, only I wish I knew more about 
 it. But I know I can learn, and I shall not think 
 any thing hard that I do for my husband. Thomas 
 a Kempis says a lover ought willingly to under 
 take any thing hard or distasteful for his beloved. 
 I am sure I would do that for Mr. Morley, and I 
 believe he would do as much for me. 
 
 October 22. 
 
 My aunt and uncle have been gone two days, 
 but are expected back to-night. I have had a talk 
 with Mr. Morley which troubles me, though I dare 
 say without reason. I ought to be ashamed to 
 entertain for a moment a thought so derogatory 
 
186 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 to him. I dare say he was only vexed because 
 Ursula deceived him. 
 
 The way was this. Betty was not well this 
 morning, and kept her bed, for a wonder. She 
 was thirsty and feverish, and at last said she 
 wished she had a glass of fair water from Meg s 
 fountain. 
 
 " I will bring you some," said I. " It will take 
 me but a few minutes to go and come, arid my 
 aunt will not be vexed, seeing what my errand is." 
 For my aunt had bidden us remain within doors 
 while she was away. 
 
 I saw that Betty was pleased, though she made 
 some objection, and said I could send one of the 
 maids. However, I could find no one at the min 
 ute ; so I even threw on my long cloth cloak, 
 pulled the hood over my head, and set out myself. 
 The spring is in rather a lonely place, a little 
 dell, green and mossy, and surrounded on all sides 
 by high wooded banks. It is not greatly fre 
 quented, because of some story of an apparition, 
 some forlorn lad}- who killed herself for love. I 
 am not a bit afraid of the ghost; but, as I dipped 
 my jug into the basin, I heard a man s step behind 
 me, and turned in a hurry, to see Mr. Morley. He 
 greeted me in his usual kind fashion, but seemed 
 perturbed and distraught. He asked for my uncle ; 
 and I said he had not yet returned from town, but 
 we expected him that night. 
 
 " No matter," he replied abruptly ; and then, 
 after a little pause, " Dolly, do you know whether 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 187 
 
 your fortune hath been involved in your uncle s 
 losses ? Was it in his hands ? " 
 
 " I know it was not, for the best of reasons," 
 said I. " My fortune, such as it is, is safe in my 
 own hands." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " he asked. 
 
 " 4 My face is my fortune, sir, she said, " I an 
 swered him, singing the line of the old song, and 
 making him a saucy little courtesy, for I felt in 
 good spirits. " I would it were finer for your 
 sake." He stared at rue like one amazed. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you ha\e no fortune?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " Not a shilling," I answered ; and then bethink 
 ing myself I added, "I suppose I should have three 
 hundred pounds if I could get it, but there is not 
 the least likelihood of that." 
 
 " But Ursula Robinson told me you had had a 
 fortune come to you," he stammered, " and that 
 was the reason your uncle and aunt had taken you 
 up, though they took no notice of you while you 
 were poor." 
 
 " I don t know why she should have said or 
 thought so," I answered coolly ; for I was growing 
 vexed in my turn. " My aunt adopted me out of 
 pure kindness and love for her sister s child. She 
 never knew of my existence till she heard of me 
 through Lady Clarenham. I am sorry if you have 
 been deceived, but it has been none of my doing." 
 And with that I took up my jug, and turned to 
 
188 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " But are you sure ? " he asked again, walking 
 along with me. " Perhaps your aunt has thought 
 best to keep the matter from you." 
 
 " I am quite sure," I answered. " My aunt 
 said but yesterday that my uncle had hoped to 
 give at least a thousand pounds with me, but that 
 owing to his late losses it would not be possible 
 for him to do so. Did he not tell you so ? " 
 
 "Yes, but I thought However, it does not 
 matter. I have been grossly deceived, and that is 
 the end on t." 
 
 "You cannot say that I deceived you, since you 
 never asked me a question on the subject," said I. 
 " If you doubt my word, you had better ask my 
 ancle." 
 
 " Don t go, don t leave me in anger, Dolly," 
 said he as I turned away. " I am not angry with 
 you, and yet " 
 
 " I must not stay. My aunt would be very 
 angry if she knew I met you," I answered ; and 
 breaking away from him I hurried into the house. 
 When I came into Betty s room, she asked me if I 
 had seen the ghost of the blind nun, that I was so 
 pale. I told her no, but that I had seen a strange 
 man who frightened me, and so I had hurried 
 home. 
 
 " You should not have gone out, Mrs. Dorothy," 
 said Sharpless. " Your aunt will be displeased, 
 if she hears it." 
 
 " It was all my fault, asking for the water," 
 said Bess. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 189 
 
 " There is no great harm done," I answered, 
 making light of the matter. " My aunt will not 
 scold me when she knows why I went. I dare 
 say the poor man meant no harm." 
 
 " Very likely he only meant to beg." 
 
 " I dare say, but I must go and change my shoes, 
 Betty," said I, glad to seize the first excuse to get 
 away. " The grass in that dell is always wet, I 
 think." 
 
 I escaped to my own room, and sat down to 
 think ; but the more I turn the matter over in my 
 mind, the less I am able to come to any con 
 clusion. 
 
 October 23. 
 
 Mr. Morley has not been here. It is very 
 strange. My uncle had a letter to-night, over 
 which I heard him storming and fuming at a great 
 rate in my aunt s room, calling someone a scoun 
 drel and other hard names, with many oaths and 
 expletives. My aunt seemed moved too, by the 
 tone of her voice. I was waiting to see her, to tell 
 her what I did yesterday. I find the more per 
 fectly frank and open I am with her, the better we 
 agree. I was standing at the farther window of 
 the gallery, to which I had moved not to overhear 
 the talk in my aunt s room. When she came out, 
 her color was raised, and there were traces of tears 
 about her eyes, which I was surprised to see ; for 
 she does not usually mind my uncle s tantrums. 
 
 " What are you doing here Dorothy ? " she 
 asked. 
 
190 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 I told her I was waiting to speak with her. She 
 asked what was the matter ; and I told her, only 
 I did not repeat what Mr. Morley had said. 
 
 " And you are sure you did not go on purpose 
 to meet him ? " she asked somewhat sharply ; and 
 then, relenting, " But no, that is not like my frank, 
 simple-hearted Dolly. Only you know, my love, 
 it is much better for young ladies to do exactly 
 as they are bid. There, I am not angry, but I 
 would rather you did not go out to-day." 
 
 She looked at my work, and praised its neat 
 ness, asked how my knitting progressed, and dis 
 missed me with a kiss and her blessing. I can t 
 understand her manner, nor my uncle s way of 
 looking at me, but I am glad they are not angry 
 with me. They have certainly been very good. 
 I suppose Ursula Jackson could not understand 
 such disinterested kindness, and so coined this 
 tale to account for it. No wonder Mr. Morley 
 was angry with her. I hope he will have had 
 enough of her, that is all. 
 
 October 24. 
 
 It is all over. Life is done for me, and I only 
 wish it were done in good earnest. But people 
 can t die when they like, unless they kill them 
 selves, and I have too much conscience, or too 
 little courage, for that. I shall never believe in 
 any one again. 
 
 This morning I was about to sit down to my 
 music, which I have taken up again at my aunt s 
 request, when Mary Mathews came to say that 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 191 
 
 my aunt required my presence in her room. 
 (Mary was out of a place when my mistress went 
 to the Bath, and my aunt took her on my recom 
 mendation, and means to carry her down to Devon 
 with us.) I wondered what could be the matter, 
 for my aunt never interrupts our study hours 
 without grave cause, and on my way down-stairs 
 and through the gallery I tried to think whether 
 I had done any thing to merit her displeasure ; 
 but I could remember nothing save my walk, 
 which she knew of already. 
 
 I found my uncle and aunt sitting side by side 
 in my aunt s dressing-room. My uncle had a 
 letter in his hand. They both kissed and blessed 
 me ; my uncle adding, as it were to himself, " Poor, 
 pretty wretch, I had as soon be hanged as tell her ! 
 
 The villain, would I but had his neck 
 
 under my boot-heel ! " 
 
 " Do not excite yourself, Sir Robert," said my 
 aunt gently. " Our dear Dorothy hath too much 
 proper pride and self-respect not to treat the 
 matter as it deserves." 
 
 " Oh, yes : pride and self-respect are all very 
 well ! There, sit down, child." 
 
 He pushed a chair toward me; and I took it, 
 wondering what would be coming next. But I 
 never guessed, never had a thought of the im 
 pending blow. 
 
 "Well, child, you must needs know, but how 
 to tell you There, take the letter and read it. 
 That I should ever have taken such a creeping 
 
192 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 adder into my family ! There, read it, poor 
 wench ! " 
 
 " And then treat the writer with the contempt 
 and scorn he deserves," added my aunt. " There 
 are others who will appreciate our clove-gilli- 
 flower, if he does not." 
 
 (My uncle sometimes calls me by that name, 
 because I am so dark.) 
 
 I read the letter over, but somehow I did not 
 at first take a sense of it. The writer said that, 
 finding he had been deceived in respect to the 
 private fortune of Mrs. Dorothy Corbet, and not 
 being in a condition to marry a portionless wife, 
 however worthy in other respects, he must decline 
 the honor of the young lady s alliance. The letter 
 concluded with some commonplace expressions of 
 respect, and was signed Philip Morley. 
 
 " Well," burst forth my uncle, as I looked up 
 from the letter ; " is not this a fine, craven cock 
 we have chosen for a bridegroom for our Dorothy? 
 He has done well to run for it. I would have slit 
 his nose for him, and I will, too, if he comes within 
 my reach." 
 
 " No, no ! " said my aunt. " Much better treat 
 him with the contempt he deserves. Think you 
 not so, my love ? " 
 
 " I don t understand," said I. 
 
 "She has not taken in the matter," said my 
 aunt, "and no wonder. Read the letter again, 
 my love." 
 
 I did so, and saw it all. 
 
Mrs. Studletf* Diary. 193 
 
 " How did Morley get this idea of your having 
 a fortune ? " asked my uncle. 
 
 " Don t tease her with questions now, my dear," 
 said my aunt kindly. " She is in no state to 
 answer you." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " said I. I was in a strange state of 
 mind. I comprehended the whole matter, but it 
 seemed to me as if it related to somebody else 
 than myself, somebody I was very sorry for, but 
 whom I could talk of quite quietly. " I know be 
 cause he told me. He said Mrs. Ursula Jackson, 
 his cousin, told him ; and I dare say she did." 
 
 " But how should she get the notion ? " 
 
 I told him what I thought, adding that Ursula 
 was apt to take up fancies about people, and then 
 repeat them for facts. 
 
 " She must be a nice woman," observed my 
 uncle. " Well, my maid, you take the loss of 
 your bridegroom more quietly than I expected. I 
 thought you were in love with his very shadow." 
 
 " My Dorothy has too much proper spirit, and 
 has been too well brought up, to fix her affections 
 on any man without the leave of her guardians," 
 said my aunt. " Tis a great mortification, no 
 doubt, but far better than if she had married so 
 unworthy a person. I am glad it has all hap 
 pened here instead of in town. Mr. Morley will 
 hold his tongue for his own sake, and no one 
 outside the family need know any thing of the 
 matter." 
 
 " The miserable, cowardly hound has sneaked 
 
194 Through Unknown Ways ; or, 
 
 off to Scotland on some errand for his Majesty," 
 said my uncle. 
 
 " So much the better," returned my aunt. " We 
 shall go doAvn to Devon next week ; and Dolly will 
 have enough to divert her, and make her forget 
 this unworthy man. There, go, my love, to your 
 own room, if you like, and compose your spirits." 
 
 " And we will find you a better bridegroom," 
 said my uncle ; " some gallant, honest Devon 
 man, worth a hundred of these court fops and 
 coxcombs. There, Heaven bless thee, dear wench ! 
 You have been a dutiful child to us, and a good 
 sister to her that s gone ; and you shall never want 
 a home while I have a shilling, or a roof over my 
 head." 
 
 My aunt kissed me also, and called me a good 
 girl, and said kindly that she was most grateful to 
 Lady Clarenham for bringing her to the acquaint 
 ance of so good a niece. I left the room, still 
 with that strange feeling of pitying myself as if I 
 were somebody else. I even sat down to the harpsi 
 chord again, and played through the lesson of scales 
 I had begun, as steadily as if nothing had hap 
 pened ; but, as I stooped to take up another piece 
 of music, it proved to be a song which Mr. Morley 
 and I had often sung together. Then it all came 
 to me. I threw it down as if it had burned me, 
 and escaped to my room. My aunt sent to know 
 if I would come to dinner, or if she should send 
 me something. I told Mary to thank her, but said 
 I would come down. 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 195 
 
 "Are you not well, Mrs. Dolly ? " said Mary. 
 
 " I have a headache," I answered, with perfect 
 truth ; " but I shall feel better to go about a 
 little." 
 
 Mary came to the table, and began to dust the 
 books with her apron. When she left the room, I 
 saw that she had laid my Prayer-Book open at the 
 Twenty-seventh Psalm. The dear, good soul 
 thought to comfort me, no doubt. I remember 
 how she used to betake herself to her Prayer-Book 
 and Bible to calm her spirits after my mistress 
 had been abusing her in one of her horrid fits of 
 ill-temper. She must have known or guessed that 
 I was in some trouble. 
 
 But I can t comfort myself in that way. Per 
 haps I might, if things were different. If Mr. 
 Morley had been killed in the rebellion, for in 
 stance, I don t think I should have minded nearly 
 as much. Then I could have had the comfort of 
 remembrance ; but now Oh, if I could only 
 forget ! 
 
 October 28. 
 
 My aunt praises me much for the way in which, 
 as she says, I bear my trouble. She says she sees 
 plainly that I do not mean to let this man s shadow 
 darken my life. But it is not his shadow at all. 
 It is the shadow of a man who never had an exist 
 ence, save in mine own imagination. It is not 
 that he is dead, but that he never lived. My aunt 
 says the thought of his unworthiness ought to 
 comfort me, but there is just the sting : it is just 
 
196 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 his vileness and tmworthiness that I mourn over. 
 It seems to me now, that I could willingly have 
 parted with him, if I could have kept on believing 
 in him. 
 
 My aunt called Betty and myself into her room 
 this morning, in order, as she said, to explain to 
 us certain family matters. I don t even now under 
 stand just how it is, only that my uncle, induced 
 by the representations of some business-man in 
 whom he had confidence, did, without consulting 
 his wife, and against the advice of his old lawyer 
 and agent in Exeter, put all his spare cash into 
 this man s hands to embark in some trading ven 
 ture which was to bring in a golden harvest of 
 guineas. But the bubble hath burst, and the 
 blower thereof hath run away to America, where 
 I hope the Indian savages may take and scalp him ; 
 and my uncle, from being rich, has become com 
 paratively poor. True, he has his, landed estate, 
 and happily he has no debts of any amount ; and 
 my aunt thinks that by letting his fine mansion, 
 which it seems he can do to good advantage, and 
 retiring to a smaller house which belongs to my 
 aunt, he may, in the course of a few years, be 
 relieved from all his embarrassments. 
 
 I was much pleased to notice that my aunt did 
 not, in all she said, cast one word of blame or 
 reflection upon her husband, though lie acted with 
 out her knowledge and against her known wishes, 
 she being ever against speculation, and although 
 so Sharpless tells me a good deal of the lost 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 197 
 
 money was of her bringing. Methinks such for 
 bearance shows real greatness of soul. I cannot 
 endure to hear married people complaining of 
 each other, as Ursula Jackson does of her hus 
 band to every one she can get to hear her. 
 
 As Betty said nothing, and my aunt seemed to 
 expect some one to speak, I asked where this 
 house lay. 
 
 " It is not very far from Exeter. The name of 
 the estate is Lady Hill," answered my aunt. 
 
 " What an odd name ! " I remarked. 
 
 " There was once a small convent on the spot, 
 whereof the ruins still remain," answered my 
 aunt. " The house is not large, but convenient ; 
 and there is land enough to serve your uncle for 
 an occupation. We shall not need nearly as many 
 servants as at Fullham, which will be one advan 
 tage, and we must settle whom to keep. My own 
 woman, Mrs. Brown, leaves this next month to be 
 married, so she tells me." 
 
 "Then, madam, why should you not take 
 Sharpless to be your own woman ? " .asked Betty. 
 " Dolly and I can wait on and dress each other, 
 can t we, Dolly?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I should think so, seeing I never 
 had a waiting-woman in my life till I came here 
 to live," I answered. " And, aunt, I think you 
 would find Mary Mathews a very careful and 
 efficient housemaid ; and Betty and I will be your 
 gentlewomen, so you will have three instead of 
 
198 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " Oh, yes, that will do nicely ! " said Betty, with 
 more interest than I have seen her show since 
 Meg s death. " And Dolly will play and sing to 
 my father of an evening, and I will play chess 
 with you, dear mother, and read to you in your 
 favorite chronicles ; and we will be happy in our 
 selves, and let the world give us the go-by if it 
 likes." 
 
 My aunt s eyes overflowed for the first time. 
 " My dear, good girls," said she, giving a hand to 
 each, and drawing us near to her : " how happy it 
 makes me to see you take things in this way ! " 
 
 " There would be little use in sitting down to 
 lament for spilled milk," said Betty. " No doubt 
 my father acted for the best, however he was mis 
 taken." 
 
 "That I am sure he did," said my aunt. "I 
 am sorry for your sakes, more than my own, that 
 I cannot give you the benefit of another London 
 season." 
 
 " So am not I," said Betty. " I hate London as 
 much as my father does. I would rather live at 
 that place in the Mendip hills, where the sun does 
 not rise till ten of the clock in midsummer." 
 
 "You should not interrupt your mother, my 
 love : that is rude," said my aunt, but without the 
 displeasure she usually shows on these occasions. 
 " I was going to say that I hoped we should not 
 be quite out of the world, since we are so near 
 Exeter, where there is very good society among 
 the church dignitaries. I hope to see you both 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 199 
 
 well established in the world yet, for all that has 
 come and gone. There, go now, my dears, and 
 send Sharpless to me ; she has been a most faithful 
 servant, and is worthy of all confidence." 
 
 " Oh, yes, the world, the world, always the 
 world ! " said Betty discontentedly. " I wish one 
 could get away from the world." 
 
 " You would like to go into a nunnery then," 
 said I, as we sat ourselves down to our embroidery. 
 
 " I am not sure that I should, by any means," 
 said Betty. "I should want to know more about 
 the matter first. I have a fancy that the little 
 world of a convent may be just as worldly as the 
 great world outside, and perhaps harder to deal 
 with, seeing that one would be shut up to it. If 
 I have to deal with a wolf or a snake, I would 
 rather have him in the field than in my chamber." 
 
 " I have noticed one thing in Thomas a Kempis," 
 said I: "he is as full of warning against ambition, 
 pride, envy, and so forth, as if he had been writing 
 for the court instead of a convent." 1 
 
 " But would you like to go into a convent, 
 Dolly? "asked Betty. 
 
 "No," I answered abruptly, "not unless I 
 could leave my memory at the gates. I would 
 rather be like Mrs. Petty, going to the park every 
 afternoon, and the play or a ball every night, and 
 sleeping till noon next day; or even like old Lady 
 
 1 This is the case with all the conventual books of devotion 
 (and they are many) which I have read. See the life of Saint 
 Theresa, by herself, for a fine example. 
 
200 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 Carewe, going to church in the morning, and 
 playing at cards all the rest of the day. One 
 might chance to forget sometimes in that way." 
 
 " You would not find any comfort in such a 
 life," said Betty, laying down her work, and look 
 ing at me with eyes full of pity and love. " The 
 gayest must have their hours of reflection, even 
 in this world. Sickness and old age and death 
 come to all, and then there is what comes after ; 
 there are no plays or balls or cards there, I fancy. 
 And beside, Dolly, dear, it might have been worse : 
 you might have married him, and found him out 
 when it was too late." 
 
 " You don t understand, none of you under 
 stand," I cried passionately. "I am not thinking 
 about myself, but about him him, that he shotild 
 be so unworthy. If he had died like Meg, if he had 
 been lost like Mercy Lane s sweetheart, it would 
 not have been half so bad. But that he should be 
 what he is, and that I can do nothing to help him, 
 nothing ! " 
 
 " But God can," said Betty softly. " He heard 
 dear Meg s prayers for Lord Chesterton. Why 
 don t you pray for him ? " 
 
 " I can t," I answered. " It seems as if he had 
 mocked me already. I asked him to give me Mr. 
 Morley, and see how it hath turned out. Bab 
 Andrews prayed for her lover, and he died a 
 shameful death, after all. She asked for his life, 
 but it was not given her." 
 
 " 4 He asked of thee life, and thou gavest him a 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 201 
 
 long life, even for ever and ever, " said Betty sol 
 emnly. " Is not that in the Psalms ? When Bab 
 and her lover look back from eternity at their 
 troubles here, I don t believe they will seem so 
 very long or hard." 
 
 " Her case was not mine," said I. " There is 
 no use in talking to you. You were never in 
 love." 
 
 Betty was silent for a few minutes, and then 
 began to try and divert me by telling me about 
 Devon. I knew she meant kindly, and I tried to 
 listen, and insensibly I did become interested. 
 Betty is glad we are going to Lady Hill, which 
 she likes better than Fullham, because there is 
 such a lovely park and garden ; though Fullham 
 house is quite a palace, by all accounts. I shall 
 be glad of the journey, at all events. We are to 
 stay two or three days in London, where we hope 
 to meet my Lord Chesterton, who has been kept by 
 some matters of business. I am sure I hope we 
 shall not meet Mr. Morley ; but my uncle thinks 
 he has gone to Scotland. 
 
 November 5, London. 
 
 Guy Fawkes Day, but there were no bonfires, 
 they being forbidden by the king, which makes 
 people look strangely on each other. Already mass 
 is said openly at Whitehall and other places, and 
 the court swarms with priests, especially Jesuits. 
 The king s determination to dispense with the test 
 act, and the dismissal of Lord Halifax from office, 
 cause much murmuring even among the strongest 
 
202 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 partisans of the king. So says Lord Chesterton, 
 who has given us two or three visits. He still 
 wears the deepest mourning, and lives very retired. 
 Betty and he had a long talk this morning, but I 
 have not heard what it was about. 
 
 A good many of my aunt s old friends have 
 visited her ; and she has spent one evening at my 
 Lady Carewe s, at a card party, I believe. Betty 
 and I were not asked to go ; for which I am not 
 sorry, for I think she is a hateful old woman. She 
 must be seventy years old, at least, and yet she 
 wears rouge and false hair, and is just as eager 
 after every shilling she wins at play ; and then 
 she does so delight in scandalous dirty stories. I 
 cannot think how my aunt, who hates scandal, can 
 endure her ; but then " she moves in the best soci 
 ety" forsooth, and that is enough. 
 
 November 6 
 
 I saw my dear Mrs. Williams this morning. It 
 seems my mistress I shall never get over calling 
 her by that name intends to spend the whole 
 winter at the Bath, and hath sent Mrs. Williams 
 to town on some business and to see to letting the 
 house. I was out shopping with my aunt when I 
 met Mrs. Williams ; and aunt, learning who she 
 was, and having heard, as she kindly said, of her 
 goodness to me, gave me leave to give my old 
 friend a visit. I was overjoyed to do so, for Mrs. 
 Williams was my friend when I sorely needed one. 
 If I had but followed her counsel, I should not be 
 the forlorn wretch I am now. But there is no 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 203 
 
 use in looking back, or forward either for that 
 matter. My aunt gave me a guinea, and bade me 
 buy something for my old friend such as I thought 
 she would like : so I bought her a large-print Bible 
 and some chocolate, which she was always fond of. 
 It is a new kind, made up in cakes like ginger 
 bread, very convenient to carry. 
 
 My aunt left me at the door of my old dwelling, 
 I wont say home , for there never was any thing 
 of home about it, and told me she would call for 
 me in two or three hours, as she had some visits 
 to return. How strange and yet how familiar it 
 seemed ! I was let in by the old woman who takes 
 care of the house, and who said Mrs. Williams 
 would be back presently. As I stepped into the 
 withdrawing room to look once more at my Lady 
 Jem s portrait, it seemed every moment as if I 
 should hear my mistress s whistle, in that sharp 
 sudden note which always told me to expect at the 
 least a box on the ear. The picture is as lovely 
 as ever, most beautifully painted. I particularly 
 noticed the diamond earrings, which are very large, 
 and so well represented that they seemed actually 
 to emit light. I wonder what has become of 
 them. Round her neck is the very same locket 
 and chain that Sir Charles gave me. I have it 
 safe in my trinket-box, the chain having become 
 somewhat thin by wearing. I told my aunt its 
 history one day when she saw it by chance, and 
 she bade me keep it as Sir Charles had said. I 
 was glad, for I feared she might insist on examin- 
 
204 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 ing it ; but that is not her way. She is as entirely 
 a woman of her word as any one I ever saw, and 
 respects the same in other people. While I was 
 looking at the picture, Mrs. Williams came in. 
 She was much pleased with my little present, and 
 insisted on preparing some chocolate at once. She 
 had bought a fine cake and a cold fowl, and got 
 ready quite a little feast. 
 
 "You are not looking well," said she to me. 
 
 " I am well enough," I answered ; and then, 
 moved by I know not what, I laid my head down 
 in my old friend s lap, and poured out all my story. 
 Mrs. Williams s comment was an unexpected one. 
 
 " I am glad it is no worse," said she. 
 
 "How could it have been worse?" I said pet 
 tishly. 
 
 " You might have married him," said she ; " that 
 would have been bad enough. Besides, I believe 
 that man capable of any wickedness. He hath 
 been one of the prime instruments of Col. Kirke 
 and the chief justice in the horrible cruelties 
 which have been practised on the poor folks of 
 Somersetshire." 
 
 " I can t believe it," said I. 
 
 " I had it from a sure hand," she returned ; 
 "from the mother of one of the sufferers. It is 
 such a tale as I would not pollute your ears withal. 
 I thought of you when I heard it, and prayed that 
 you might be preserved from his clutches." 
 
 "Let us talk of something else," said I. "How 
 is my mistress ? " 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 205 
 
 " Much as usual, only that her health is bet 
 ter." 
 
 " You must have a hard time with her all alone." 
 
 " So hard that I sometimes think I must leave 
 her altogether," replied Mrs. Williams. " I have 
 told her that I must have a rest ; and as soon as 
 my business is ended here I shall go down to Kent, 
 arid make a visit to my brother-in-law." 
 
 "Kent," said I, "does not Mrs. Pendergast s 
 father live in Kent? " 
 
 " Yes, and close by where I am going : so I hope 
 to see them often." 
 
 "And where is Mr. Pendergast?" 
 
 " In the city, I suppose, but I cannot tell you 
 where, sometimes in one place, and sometimes 
 in another. He is a good man, though not yet 
 fully enlightened as to spiritual things. But, my 
 dear, if you wish to go through the house, we must 
 be moving." 
 
 I agreed, and we went all through the house. 
 My mistress had carried away all of my Lady Jem s 
 clothes and other such matters ; but I found on a 
 shelf in her closet a pile of old books, some of 
 devotion, and others of romances and the like, 
 and, as I knew they were worthless to sell, I car 
 ried off two or three for keepsakes. Also I found 
 in my old room my " Pilgrim s Progress," which 
 I had forgotten in my removal. Mrs. Williams 
 bade me show it to my aunt, and I promised to do 
 so. I hope she will not disapprove it, for it is a 
 book I love. 
 
206 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 "And what do you know about Ursula Jack 
 son? " I asked. Mrs. Williams shook her head. 
 
 "Nothing pleasant. She and her husband do 
 not at all agree. She poured out all her woes to 
 me, as I fancy she does to every one who will 
 listen to her. She says Mr. Jackson is desper 
 ately jealous, and will let her speak to no one but 
 himself. Mr. Robertson himself told me that Mr. 
 Jackson was very angry at a certain person s 
 attentions to his wife, and forbade him the house." 
 
 " Why do you suppose Ursula told that story 
 about my having a great fortune ? " 
 
 " I suppose she made it partly out of something 
 my mistress said. Ursula was wondering at your 
 aunt s adopting you when she had daughters of 
 her own to marry, and my mistress answered her, 
 You may be sure Lady Fullham knows what she 
 is about. Dolly may come into a fortune some 
 day. I believe she only meant to hint that she 
 herself might leave you something; but, seeing 
 how eagerly Ursula took it up, she went on adding 
 more hints just to tease her." 
 
 " Ursula was always dreadfully afraid my mis 
 tress would leave me something, though I don t 
 think there is any danger," said I. 
 
 "Nor I," answered Mrs. Williams. "I doubt 
 her ever bringing herself to make a wiir at all. 
 She clings closer and closer to this world every 
 day." 
 
 "And if she does not, where will her money 
 go?" 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 207 
 
 "To her brother s descendants, I presume. 
 There is quite a family of them ; but my mistress 
 never could abide them, though they are very 
 nice people. Your acquaintance, Mr. Evelyn, 
 brought up one of them, a young lady who was 
 left an orphan in the plague time, and she was 
 married from his house. She came to see my 
 mistress once, and I thought her a very nice, 
 pretty young lady. But there is no telling what 
 my mistress may do." 
 
 " Marry again, perhaps," I suggested. 
 
 "Hardly, I think, though there is no telling. 
 I always say I should be surprised at no one s 
 marriage but my own. Well, here is the coach 
 come for you, my dear. Thank my good Lady 
 Fullham for allowing me this visit. And, my 
 dear child, take one bit of counsel from your old 
 friend. Try to rest all this trouble of yours where 
 it belongs. Cast thy burden on the Lord, and he 
 shall sustain thee. Wait on the Lord, and com 
 mit thy way to him." 
 
 " I can t, said I, crying. " I have tried, and I 
 can t." 
 
 " Perhaps you have not tried in the right way. 
 But there, I must not keep you. God bless thee, 
 my lamb ! I do miss thee sorely, but thou art in 
 better hands than mine ; and I have faith to be 
 lieve thou wilt be guided home, though not by the 
 path of thine own choosing. He leadeth the blind 
 by a way they know not, but all the same he lead 
 eth them." 
 
208 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 I was in funds, having just been paid my quar 
 ter s allowance of spending money : so I gave Mrs. 
 Williams ten shillings, and asked her to lay it out 
 in presents for Mrs. Pendergast s two little chil 
 dren, who were always great pets of mine. Then 
 I bade her good-by, and took leave forever of the 
 house where I first saw Mr. Morley. I wish I 
 had died then and there, before I ever saw him 
 again. 
 
 I found Mr. Newington, our rector, in the coach 
 with my aunt, going home to sup at our lodgings. 
 My aunt asked what books I had; and I showed 
 her they were Mr. Taylor s " Golden Grove," and 
 the " Arcadia" by Philip Sidney. 
 
 " There is no harm in these," remarked my 
 aunt, " but what is this ? 4 The Pilgrim s Prog 
 ress, by John Bunyan. Is he not that tinker 
 turned preacher that I have heard of? I cannot 
 think such an author suitable for the closet of a 
 young lady. Whft say you, Mr. Newington ? " 
 
 " There is no harm in the piece, but a great 
 deal of good," said Mr. Newington. " I have read 
 the book more than once, and I venture to say 
 Mrs. Dorothy will not be hurt by it." 
 
 "But a tinker, Mr. Newington," said my aunt; 
 " a common tinker to aspire to be a preacher ! " 
 
 "Well, what then, madam? I knew a worse 
 case even than that, where a common carpenter 
 put himself forward to take part in the services of 
 his own parish church." 
 
 "And what did they do to him?" asked my 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 209 
 
 aunt, all unsuspicious of the trap into which she 
 was falling. 
 
 "Do? Why, they said, Is not this the carpen 
 ter, the son of Mary ? and they were offended at 
 him." % 
 
 My aunt drew herself up. " I think you are 
 almost profane, Mr. Newington. Would you draw 
 a parallel between our Lord and this Anabaptist 
 preacher ? " 
 
 " Heaven forbid, madam, that I should draw 
 any such parallel between him and the very most 
 exalted of his creatures! " said Mr. Newington sol 
 emnly. " All I meant to show was that outward 
 rank and consequence are as nothing in his eyes, 
 who took David from following the sheep to be 
 king over his people, and sent Amos the herds 
 man to rebuke even kings. I am sorry for what 
 I must think are the good man s errors ; but these 
 peculiar notions do not at all appear in his book, 
 which I can confidently recomm end for Mrs. Dor 
 othy s perusal." 
 
 My aunt could do no less than agree, but she 
 said afterward that she was sorry so good a man 
 should take up such strange notions. If what he 
 said was true, any little mechanic or tradesman s 
 wife might be setting herself up to be the equal of 
 any lady in the land. But it seems to me that the 
 effect of these notions, if carried out, would make 
 the tradesman s wife not care any thing about 
 being equal to anybody. If one really believes 
 one s-self a member of Christ, a child of God, and 
 
210 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven, as the 
 Catechism says, one would not care for any earthly 
 distinction. One would not fret very much be 
 cause the duchess of this or my Lady T other 
 did not bow to them. But it seems to me as if 
 most of the people I know did not really believe 
 these things at all, not as they believe in the 
 things of this world. T know there is no reality 
 in them to me, at any rate. I wish there were. 
 Perhaps I should find some comfort in them, and 
 get rid of this dull pain at my heart which seems 
 to press my life out. 
 
 Lady Hill, December 1. 
 
 We are here and mostly settled. I thought we 
 never should get here alive. What with the state 
 of the roads, and the dread of highwaymen with 
 whom the country is more infested than usual since 
 the late troubles, and the rain and wet, and my 
 uncle s fretting and fuming, the journey was any 
 thing but pleasant for the most part. I am glad 
 they did not bring poor Meg s body down here to 
 be buried. It would have been simply agonizing. 
 We had six horses to the coach nearly all the way, 
 and yet more than once my uncle had to send for 
 oxen to drag the coach out of the mire. I could 
 but admire my aunt s patience and cheerfulness. 
 Not a fretful word escaped her in our very worst 
 predicaments, and she was always ready to see 
 something pleasant or odd to divert our minds. 
 She certainly is an admirable woman in most 
 ways, 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 211 
 
 Mary Mathews jumped at the chance of going 
 into the country again, and hath greatly com 
 mended herself to my aunt and to Mrs. Sharpless 
 by her usefulness and her cheerful spirits. She 
 laughed at all our hardships, and told us such tales 
 of travelling in the north (she comes from some 
 where about Durham) as did indeed make our 
 inconveniences seem very small. I am glad I was 
 able to secure the place for her, both for her sake 
 and my aunt s. Mrs. Sharpless takes to her greatly, 
 and shows no jealousy of my aunt s favor to her, 
 as poor Brown used to. I said as much to Betty 
 one day. She laughed. 
 
 " There is just the difference between Sharpless 
 and Brown that there is between the cat and the 
 dog," said she. " The dog lives in the opinion of 
 other people, and consequently he can be made 
 jealous. But did you ever see a cat show any 
 jealousy of the opinion or favor of her mistress ? " 
 
 " I don t know that I ever did," said I. " The 
 cat thinks too much of herself to care what any 
 one thinks of her. Indeed, I don t think cats 
 acknowledge any ownership in the people they 
 live with. Puss is your friend, but it is on terms 
 of equality." 
 
 " That is it exactly," said Betty : " Sharpless 
 thinks too much of herself to be jealous of any 
 body." 
 
 I don t know whether that is the true solution 
 or not ; but, at any rate, such a person as Sharpless 
 is much pleasanter to live with than one who is 
 
212 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 always looking out for affronts and slights. But 
 to what a distance have I wandered ! 
 
 We staid a night in Exeter, and then came on 
 here, having sent a groom in advance to announce 
 our coming, as my uncle decided to stop here, and 
 go to Fullham afterwards. In the morning, Betty 
 and I went to service at the cathedral. It is a 
 most huge and venerable pile of Gothic architec 
 ture, far more beautiful to my eyes, I must say, 
 than the new St. Paul s will ever be. Aunt says my 
 taste is not correct ; and that no doubt, as the Gre 
 cian and Roman style of building spreads more 
 and more, many of these great piles will be taken 
 down and rebuilt. But I hope that may not be in 
 my day. Perhaps the fashion may change, and 
 the Gothic come to be admired again. I must say 
 I was quite overwhelmed with the prospect of the 
 fretted roof, the long aisles, and colored windows ; 
 though they say these last are nothing to what 
 they were before the great rebellion. My uncle 
 says, however, that the rebels did not all the mis 
 chief they are credited with in such cases, that 
 the Cavaliers were often quite as bad. 
 
 The service was musical, of course, and beauti 
 fully sung, as they pride themselves on the sing 
 ing ; but I must say I am not fond of a musical 
 service. It seems to me that the very beauty and 
 and glory of our service is that it is common prayer, 
 common, that is, to the clergy and the people ; 
 though I admit that, in practice, it is too often left 
 to the parson and the clerk. But a musical ser- 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 213 
 
 vice seems to belong wholly to the clergy and the 
 choir ; and the people have only to listen and ad 
 mire, or criticise, as the case may be. 
 
 I was pleased to see the old men and women 
 from the almshouses in their place, looking so 
 warm and comfortable in their thick gray cloaks 
 and hoods. I wonder do they like to come, or 
 does the daily attendance become but a wearisome 
 task? There are many charitable foundations in 
 the city, one especially for ladies in reduced cir 
 cumstances, where my aunt hath several acquaint 
 ances, and where she hath promised to take us to 
 visit some day. 
 
 In the afternoon we came out here. Mrs. Sharp- 
 less and Mary Mathews had preceded us, and got 
 things into some order. The evening was closing 
 in as we came in sight of the little knoll on which 
 the house is built; and the lighted windows were 
 a cheerful sight, as was the glow and warmth of 
 the great wood fire which Mrs. Sharpless had 
 caused to be built in the hall. We were received 
 with many courtesies and bows by the old house 
 keeper and her husband, who acts as bailiff or 
 steward, and found a savory, hot supper await 
 ing us. 
 
 " Why, this is pleasant, this is like home," said 
 my uncle, looking about him. " This is better 
 than London cheer. Eh, Bess ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, sir ! " answered Bess heartily. 
 
 " And what says my clove-gillyflower?" asked 
 my uncle, turning to me. " Will it take good root, 
 
214 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 and flourish again in Devon soil, or will it pine for 
 London smoke and fineries ? " 
 
 I fear the poor, smirched, down-trodden clove- 
 gillyflower will never flourish anywhere again, but 
 I did not say so to my kind uncle. I answered 
 him truthfully that I never wished to see London 
 again. 
 
 " Why, that s well ! " said my uncle. " I must 
 have you learn to ride and walk, and make a coun 
 try maid of you. As to Bess, I believe she would 
 like to don the russet-gown, and take up the 
 milking-stool and pail, and tend the cows like any 
 country Cicely, hey, Bess ? " 
 
 " That I would, sir," answered Betty. " I always 
 thought I would like to be a dairy-maid ; " whereat 
 my aunt shook her head, but smilingly, and we sat 
 down to supper in great good-humor. 
 
 For two or three days we were all very busy, 
 under my aunt s direction, in getting the house in 
 order. It had been well cared for ; but, like other 
 uninhabited houses, it needed a deal to make it 
 really cheerful and comfortable. However, things 
 are now pretty well settled. My aunt has given 
 Betty and me a very pretty set of rooms on the 
 second floor. Our sitting-room for aunt says 
 we are not to talk of the schoolroom any more 
 has a great bow-window, or oriel, which commands 
 a beautiful view of the city of Exeter, rising from 
 the Exe, crowned grandly with the towers of the 
 great cathedral. I love to sit here at evening, and 
 watch the kindling of the lights, like stars. Here 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 215 
 
 we have our harpsichord, on which I practise dili 
 gently every morning, our work-tables, and our 
 French and Italian books. My aunt hath set us 
 to embroidering new covers for the chairs in the 
 great drawing-room, which are sadly worn and 
 faded. Betty grumbles privately, and calls it a 
 sad waste of time ; but I must confess I like it. 
 It is a real diversion ; for one has to give it all 
 one s attention, and thus it leaves no room for sad 
 thoughts, as plain work does. 
 
 Our bedrooms open from this sitting-room, and 
 are very comfortable, with moreen hangings, one 
 of red and the other of green, and ornamented 
 with some old prints of sacred subjects, which my 
 aunt s first husband picked up abroad. They are 
 brown and faded, with tarnished gilt frames, and 
 my aunt would have consigned them to the lum 
 ber-room ; but Betty and I begged them, as we did 
 various odds and ends of china and carving. I 
 fancy this gentleman must have been something 
 of a virtuoso, from the heaps of shells, minerals, 
 and other curiosities he has collected. 
 
 The garden is large, and very beautiful, to my 
 thinking. A part thereof is laid out in the for 
 mal Dutch fashion, with parterres, and yew-trees 
 clipped into the shape of peacocks and dragons 
 and a rampant St. George on horseback ; and there 
 is a fountain and a maze and what not, which are 
 the pride of the old gardener s heart. Beyond 
 this extends what is, to me, the beautiful part of 
 the garden. It has run wild, it is true, but there 
 
216 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 are green, mossy walks, and tall trees, and a great 
 bank of violets, and many curious trees and herbs 
 which my uncle (I suppose he was my uncle as 
 much as Sir Robert is) collected. Also there is a 
 long row of bee-hives, and a plantation of such 
 sweet herbs and flowers as their cunning little 
 inhabitants love. My aunt says my uncle Foster 
 was a great chemist and botanist, and used to 
 distil many cordial and other medicines, which 
 he gave away to poor folks. His furnace and 
 retorts still occupy a room in the older part of the 
 house, which room is looked upon with super 
 stitious awe b} r the servants and the country 
 people, who seem to have rewarded his goodness 
 to them by believing that he was in league with 
 the Devil. 
 
 December 10. 
 
 Betty has had a letter from my Lord Chesterton, 
 to say that he has obtained leave from the duke, 
 his uncle, to build a schoolhouse at Cross Hill, 
 with rooms for the master and mistress, and a 
 good endowment for their support. He has made 
 Mercy Lane mistress ; and, till the new house shall 
 be done, he has fitted up a good-sized cottage for 
 her use. The school is to be called Mistress Mar 
 garet s School, in memory of our dear Meg. I 
 think it is the loveliest monument I ever heard 
 of; much better than a great, unmeaning pile of 
 marble which does no one any good. This monu 
 ment will keep her memory green, and be a benefit 
 for ages, perhaps. But who would have thought 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 217 
 
 of Lord Chesterton s doing such a thing when I 
 first knew him ! My uncle and aunt are greatly 
 pleased, as well they may be. 
 
 We are fallen into a very regular course of life. 
 My uncle hunts and shoots and attends to his 
 farming, in which he takes great interest, specially 
 in a new breed of cattle which he has obtained 
 from hi* brother who lives in North Devon. (We 
 are to visit this same brother before long.) My 
 aunt attends to her housekeeping and her dairy, 
 and overlooks our lessons and our work. I fancy 
 she is rather homesick for London ; though she 
 does not say a word, and I dare say would be torn 
 with wild horses before she would own as much. 
 We have had some visits from country neighbors, 
 and from the bishop s family and the other dig 
 nified clergy of Exeter ; but of course we do not 
 see nearly as much company as in London, 
 especially now when the roads are so bad. 
 
 Betty and I go to church every morning when 
 it is not too stormy, and we not seldom form nearly 
 the whole congregation. The rector is a little old 
 man, who always does make me think of a white 
 owl, especially in his surplice ; but he reads nicely, 
 and is a good preacher, if he would not have so 
 much to say about the divine right of kings and 
 the duty of passive obedience. He is very kind 
 to the poor people, alike to the Churchmen and 
 the Dissenters, of whom there are a good many in 
 the parish ; and I believe they all love and respect 
 him, though they do not show it by coming to 
 
218 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 church. He is also a great antiquary; and the 
 last time he was here he explained to Betty and 
 me that the old mass of brick-work in the garden 
 is the remains of some old Roman wall, of which 
 there are many in these parts. I thought the 
 good man would have fainted when my uncle said 
 the old thing was an eye-sore, and ought to be 
 blown up with gunpowder. He was so pathetic 
 that my uncle promised that the ruin should not 
 be touched in his time. I don t think he ever 
 thought of doing it, but he sometimes likes to 
 tease. But I have wandered a long way from our 
 daily doings. 
 
 After our return from church I practise my 
 music, and Betty takes her painting, in which she 
 finds great pleasure. She is copying for me a 
 Virgin and Child, which we both greatly admired 
 at the bishop s palace, and which his lordship was 
 kind enough to lend for the purpose. I do not 
 usually care for these representations; but this pic 
 ture is lovely, especially the little angel heads in 
 the corners, looking down with a tender solicitude 
 at the divine Child, which lies asleep in its mother s 
 arms. Then we read French or Italian till dinner, 
 after which we sit in my aunt s parlor with our 
 work, ride with my uncle when the weather allows, 
 or pay visits. We have been to Exeter to two 
 card-parties, a kind of entertainment I heartily 
 hate. It is shocking to me to see old women 
 and old men, even clergymen, quarrelling over the 
 cards, so eager after their gains, and so angry at 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 219 
 
 their losses, which they seem always to lay to 
 their partners. And then when the cards are laid 
 aside, and the coffee-cups come round, such tales 
 of scandal, and pulling to pieces of the absent, 
 and hints and innuendoes. However, we are not 
 likely to see much more of them, for my uncle 
 vows we shall go to no more evening parties unless 
 we stay all night, the roads are so dangerous at 
 this season. 
 
 Betty and I have taken to visiting a good deal 
 among the poor folks, and to working for them. 
 There is one poor body especially, a widow, with 
 one or two children, whose mother has lately come 
 to live with her, at least for the present. The 
 poor old creature hath been well to do in her day, 
 but her husband was unlucky enough to sell some 
 horses to one of the Duke of Monmouth s officers. 
 He could not well help himself for doing so, since 
 the horses would have been taken at any rate: 
 but for this offence, and this alone, he was hanged 
 up at his own gate, and his wife was compelled to 
 witness his death-struggle : after which she was 
 allowed to buy her life, only to suffer a new be 
 reavement; for her son, attempting to steal his 
 father s body and bury it, was taken and hanged 
 beside it. 
 
 "Ay, I saw all this with my own eyes, and 
 the wretch mocked at my tears and cries," said 
 the old woman, with flashing eyes. " I can see him 
 now in his fine clothes, with his white, beringed 
 hands, one of them scarred across the back with a 
 
220 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 sabre-cut or some such thing, and his lady s favor 
 in his hat." 
 
 I turned sick ; but something, I know not what, 
 made me question her further. 
 
 " What was the favor like ? "I asked. 
 
 " A pink silk ribbon, worked with silver span 
 gles ; I can see it now." 
 
 So could I, for it was the very knot of ribbon I 
 had found in Lady Jem s cabinet, and which Mr. 
 Morley had begged from me one of those morn 
 ings when I met him in the park. And to think I 
 allowed that very hand But there, it won t bear 
 thinking of. I would I could never think of him 
 again. I grew so white that the good Priscilla 
 Lee was scared, and made her mother a sign to 
 cease talking. 
 
 u Ay, my dear tender lamb, your kind heart 
 cannot abide to hear of such things," said the old 
 woman kindly, as her daughter hastened to bring 
 me a draught of fair water. " May you never 
 have to suffer them ! But the time will come that 
 the Lord will avenge his saints. He will not with 
 hold his arm forever. Something tells me that I 
 shall live, old as I am, to see the tyrant cast down, 
 and that no son of his will sit on his throne after 
 him." 
 
 "Hush, dame! that is not safe talk," said I, 
 recovering myself by a great effort. " You would 
 not like to bring your daughter into trouble. I 
 shall not repeat your words ; but others might, if 
 they heard them," 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 221 
 
 " You are right, madam, and I am wrong," said 
 the old woman; "but these remembrances are too 
 much for me at times. But I will be careful. 
 Good-day, my dear lamb, and thank you for all 
 your kindness. Take care of your steps, my pretty, 
 for the ways are but slippery." 
 
 " You will not mind my mother," said Priscilla, 
 following me to the gate of the little garden. 
 " Indeed, she is a good and a godly woman, and 
 hath been like an own mother to me. You will 
 take no offence at her, my dear young lady ? " 
 
 " No, indeed," I answered ; " who can wonder at 
 her. But I hope she will be more careful." 
 
 December 31. 
 
 I think Dame Penberthy s story put the crown 
 to all my miseries ; I suppose I had come to the 
 place where I could bear no more. When I came 
 home, my aunt asked if I were ill. I said no; 
 though my head felt strangely bewildered, and I 
 could hardly keep my wits together to answer the 
 commonest question. My aunt sent me to bed at 
 last, but I could not rest. The last I remember is 
 waking from a dreadful dream of somebody chok 
 ing me with a spangled ribbon, while Mr. Morley 
 stood by laughing. My aunt was bending over 
 me, and saying, 
 
 " What is it, my love ? What troubles thee so ? " 
 I tried to answer, I remember ; but I suppose I 
 spoke wildly and beside the purpose, for I dis 
 tinctly recollect my aunt s face of alarm. After 
 
222 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 that, I knew no more till I awaked one evening, 
 and saw the setting sun streaming in at the win 
 dow, and heard the chimes of our little church 
 ringing merrily. Sharpless was sitting by me, and 
 rose as I moved. 
 
 " Why are the chimes ringing ? " I asked. 
 
 "For service," answered Sharpless, as tran 
 quilly as though nothing were the matter ; while 
 she felt my pulse, and then put her hand on my 
 forehead. I tried to raise my own hand, but it 
 felt strangely useless. 
 
 "What has happened? Have I been ill?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes, quite ill, but I hope you are better now. 
 See, take this broth, my dear lamb." 
 
 (Sharpless is very punctilious in giving Betty 
 and me our proper titles when we are well ; but 
 when we are ill, or in trouble, she falls back into 
 all her Devon forms of endearment.) 
 
 I drank the broth obediently. 
 
 " How good it tastes ! " said I. 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so," she answered. 
 "It shows the fever hath left you. But do not 
 talk, my lamb. Lie still, and try to sleep again." 
 
 I slept well all night, but was waked early by 
 singing under my window. As I turned, Sharpless 
 rose from the great chair by the bed. 
 
 "How thoughtless," said she. "I wonder no 
 one remembered to hinder the waits from coming." 
 
 " The waits ! " I said, in wonder. " Is it Christ 
 mas already?" 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 223 
 
 " Yes, my dear, Christmas morning." 
 
 " Please don t stop the singing. I love to hear 
 it," said I. And, indeed, it sounded very sweetly 
 in the cold, frosty air. The rector is very fond of 
 music, and a great promoter of it among his flock. 
 As I lay and listened, I found the tears stealing 
 down my cheeks ; and they seemed to wash away 
 the last clouds from my brain, so that I could 
 think clearly. I have not been able to shed a tear 
 in all my troubles before, but now I wept freely ; 
 and Sharpless did not check me at first, but kissed 
 and poor deared me, and stroked my hair, like 
 a mother with a sick babe. By and by she began 
 gently to hush me, and after a time I fell asleep 
 again. When my aunt brought the doctor in to 
 see me, he pronounced me out of all danger if I 
 were only prudent. 
 
 " Then you think she needs no more bleeding 
 nor medicine ? " asked my aunt, rather anxiously. 
 
 " Nothing but a few glasses of good port-wine 
 which your own cellars will furnish, and a little 
 cordial which I will send her, to spoil her pretty 
 mouth with making faces," answered the doctor, 
 with a laugh it did me good to hear, it was so 
 good-natured and cheerful. " I will send you a 
 portion of the powder of Jesuits bark, which you 
 will put into a pint of port-wine, and let her have 
 a glass three times a day." 
 
 " Then you believe in the Jesuits bark," said 
 my aunt. "Some say, you know, that his late 
 Majesty was poisoned thereby." 
 
224 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " Some talk great nonsense," returned the doc 
 tor. " If his Majesty had taken nothing but the 
 bark, he might have been alive now. The treat 
 ment they gave him, however well meant, was 
 enough to kill a donkey, in my opinion. I have 
 seen this medicine used when I was in South 
 America ; and I can assure you, madam, it hath 
 not its equal in rousing the power of nature to 
 throw off disease. But you look gravely on it, 
 nurse," he added, turning to Mrs. Sharpless, who 
 did, indeed, wear a face of strong disapproval. 
 " Confess, now, that the name scares you." 
 
 Sharpless owned she could not believe any thing 
 good which came from that quarter. 
 
 " There you are mistaken," said the doctor. 
 " The Jesuits have made known to us several 
 valuable remedies ; and I, who have seen them in 
 South America, can testify to their kindness to the 
 poor oppressed Indians, standing between them 
 and their cruel Spanish masters, who there, as 
 everywhere, spoil all they touch. Besides," he 
 added, with a twinkle in his eye, " Jesuits bark 
 is not the true name of the medicine, which is 
 called cinchona by the natives of those parts, who 
 make great use of it." 
 
 Sharpless s face cleared up on this. She has 
 been obliged to allow the virtues of the medicine, 
 which has cured herself of an obstinate pain in 
 her face. It ought to do good, for the taste is 
 horrible. 
 
 We were to have gone to Mr. Richard Fullham s 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 225 
 
 to keep our Christmas, but my illness prevented. 
 Our own Christmas passed very quietly. My bed 
 was covered with pretty gifts from all my friends ; 
 even the old rector bringing me a beautiful little 
 cup of Venetian glass from his collection. He 
 prayed with me, and did hint something about 
 the holy communion ; but I did not respond. I 
 feel I am in no state for it. 
 
 My recovery has been tolerably rapid, and my 
 aunt hopes by Twelfth Day I may be able to go 
 to Mr. FullhanTs with the rest of them. I would 
 very much rather stay at home ; but I am deter 
 mined to please my aunt in all things, so far as I 
 am able. It is all I can do in return for her kind 
 ness to me. I can t be happy, to please her, that 
 I am sure I shall never be again, but I will try 
 not to be a kill-joy, at least. 
 
 Looking forward from the last day of this year, 
 which has been such an eventful one for me, I 
 seem to see life stretching on before me as a long 
 road over a barren plain, without tree or shrub 
 or shady grove or living spring, and ending 
 who knows where? If I were good, like poor 
 Mercy Lane, I might take comfort in religion ; but 
 I am not good. My heart rises at times in fierce 
 rebellion at my lot. I feel as if Providence had 
 mocked me ; as if one should hold a cool and 
 sweet draught to a thirsty man s lips, and after 
 one mouthful should dash the liquor on the 
 ground. Then, again, it is, as I say, as if all the 
 fair plains and fertile hills and running streams 
 
226 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 were past, and only the barren, desert plain re 
 mained to be gone over. I don t really care for 
 any thing, unless it be visiting among the poor 
 folks, and talking with the old women and little 
 children ; and I cannot do that now. 
 
 January 8, 1686. 
 
 I did not go to Mr. Fullham s after all, having 
 a little return of headache and fever ; but the rest 
 went, leaving me in the care of Mrs. Sharpless. I 
 have rather enjoyed the quiet and loneliness, and 
 have amused myself with roaming about the house, 
 and looking at all the curious things which my 
 uncle Foster collected in his lifetime. He must 
 have been a man of great taste and learning. The 
 rector, Dr. Burgoin, tells me he was a most amiable 
 man, of courtly manners, and very devout, but 
 that he cared nothing at all for riches or worldly 
 honors; and though he had great connections, 
 who might have advanced his fortunes, he never 
 courted them, or sought their notice. I can t but 
 wonder how he and my aunt got on together ; for, 
 with all her excellent qualities, it must be con 
 fessed that the world and society are all in all to 
 her. 
 
 I walked down to the little hamlet this morning 
 to see the Penberthys. The rector joined me 
 coming back, and showed me a great curiosity, as 
 he calls it. I had often noticed it before, but 
 knew not what it was, a circular mound or 
 earthwork, within which stand two great stones, 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 227 
 
 covered with a third, making a kind of little 
 grotto. There seems to have been a fourth slab, 
 forming another side, but it has fallen down. Dr. 
 Burgoin says this earthen bank, and the little 
 grotto it encloses, are the work of the British 
 people long ago, before the Saxons, or even the 
 Romans, came into this land. He says there are 
 many such about here, and have been many more ; 
 but the vandal plough, as he calls it, has destroyed 
 them. He has himself a fine museum of Roman 
 coins, pottery, and the like, found in his various 
 explorations, and, what he values still more, a kind 
 of necklace or circlet of gold, which he dug out 
 of an earthwork on his own father s estate, near 
 Arlington. 
 
 Dr. Burgoin tells me that Dame Penberthy 
 really came to church with her daughter-in-law, 
 last Sunday. He is very much pleased. I asked 
 him what arguments he had used to induce her to 
 do so. 
 
 " None, directly," he answered. 4< I have not 
 found much use in that. I did but read and pray 
 with her, and strive to console her with those argu 
 ments which are common to all Christians. She 
 told me yesterday, of her own accord, that she 
 hoped grace had been given her to forgive even 
 her husband s murderer." 
 
 I am glad if she can forgive him. I can t, and 
 that is the truth ; neither can I forgive myself for 
 being such a blind fool, as I can see now that I 
 was. When I think of those meetings in the park, 
 
228 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 of the things he said to me, and the liberties I 
 allowed him, I am ready to eat my own heart 
 for rage and shame. But all that is done now. 
 I shall never love any man again. 
 
 January 10. 
 
 Our people have returned. Betty does not 
 seem to have enjoyed herself greatly, though she 
 says every one was very kind. Nor do I think the 
 company was much to my aunt s taste, though she 
 says my uncle Richard and his wife are good peo 
 ple, and the girls would be very presentable with 
 a little polish. To-morrow we go to Fullham, my 
 uncle s estate, where Mr. Cheney, who has rented 
 the place for five years, desires to see my uncle on 
 business. 
 
 January 20. 
 
 We came home last night, after a week s visit 
 at Fullham, and glad am I to be quiet once more. 
 Such a house full of company, dancing and 
 card-playing every night, when a sufficient num 
 ber of gentlemen could be mustered sober enough 
 for partners. ^Ir. Cheney has made a great deal 
 of money in one way or other ; no one seems to 
 know exactly how, only he has been many years 
 in South America and the West Indies. A lady 
 whispered to me that every one knew Mr. Cheney 
 had made the most of his wealth by piracy and 
 the slave-trade, for all he held his head so high. 
 I did not think she need have said as much, seeing 
 that she was partaking of his hospitality. He is a 
 small, dark man, with very piercing eyes, which 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 229 
 
 seemed to me always as it were on the alert, 
 watching every thing and everybody ; but that 
 might be only my fancy, after what the lady told 
 me. He is polite and accomplished ; but I could 
 not like him, for all his compliments, nor Bess 
 either. Mrs. Cheney is a fine, handsome lady, 
 well educated, and graceful, whom he married 
 abroad, they say the daughter of a Spanish gran 
 dee whom he carried off. He is very kind and 
 attentive to her, but I can t help thinking she is 
 afraid of him. He has been very liberal in his 
 dealings with my uncle, allowing him to take 
 any furniture he pleased, though all went with 
 the house. Betty has brought away a desk and 
 cabinet which Meg always used, and my aunt 
 has given me a lute and a workbox which were 
 hers. Mr. Cheney made us each a handsome 
 present at parting. I don t think aunt was sorry 
 to come away, though the company was much to 
 her taste. The truth is, that play ran pretty 
 high of nights, and I suspect my uncle hath a 
 weakness that way. I know a good deal of 
 money changed hands, both among the men and 
 women. 
 
 I had one pleasure connected with the visit ; I 
 met my old acquaintance Mr. Studley, who dined 
 with us one day along with his father. We had 
 quite a little chat afterward in the withdrawing 
 room, he having made his escape from the table 
 early. He tells me my lady is in London, and 
 that she finds great comfort in Mrs. Patty s society. 
 
230 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 I am glad of it ; but I wish she were down here, 
 that I might see her sometimes. 
 
 " She is an excellent lady," remarked my aunt, 
 " but she lives in a world of her own." 
 
 "Pardon me, madam," said Mr. Studley, bowing, 
 " not a world of her own. My good Lady Clar- 
 enham s conversation is in heaven." 
 
 My aunt was prevented from answering by 
 someone who asked her a question. Mr. Studley 
 asked me if I were enjoying my visit. 
 
 " In some ways," I answered. " I like to hear 
 Mrs. Cheney play and sing, and I am glad to have 
 beheld the great sea with my own eyes. It must 
 be lovely here in summer." 
 
 " We must take you up to North Devon, and 
 show you the ocean there," said Mr. Studley, with 
 animation ; and he began to describe to me the 
 great cliffs affronting the waves, the deep caverns 
 under them, with hidden rifts through which are 
 thrown up columns of spray when the surf is 
 high, the long coombes running down to the sea, 
 with wooded banks, and clear streams running 
 through them, and I know not what other beau 
 ties. Presently he checked himself, and said apolo 
 getically, - 
 
 " Pardon me if I weary you. Perhaps you do 
 not care for such things." 
 
 " You do not weary me," I answered. " I love 
 to hear of natural scenery." 
 
 " You have been abroad ? " he asked. 
 
 " I told him no, and added that I had hardly 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 231 
 
 been out of the sound of Bow bells till I came to 
 Devon." 
 
 "And you like the country," he said. "You 
 do not pine for London ? " 
 
 " No, indeed ! " I answered with truth. " I 
 never care to see it again. But you have been 
 abroad ? " 
 
 4 Yes, I have been something of a traveller for a 
 man of my age," he answered. " I have been as 
 far as Jerusalem." 
 
 I asked him some questions, and we had really 
 a very pleasant talk. He speaks fluently, yet mod 
 estly, and has very little to say about himself. 
 Before we parted he drew from his pocket a little 
 wooden box containing a small cross carved in 
 veined wood. 
 
 " You were saying that you would like to pos 
 sess something that came from Jerusalem. Will 
 you accept this cross which I bought at Bethle 
 hem, instead? The box is of sandal-wood, and 
 was made at Jaffa, which is thought to be the 
 Joppa of Scripture." 
 
 I could not well refuse the gift, and I must say 
 I was very much pleased with it. The cross is 
 made of olive-wood, very daintily carved, and the 
 box has a sweet perfume. Afterwards I was a lit 
 tle doubtful whether I had done right in accepting 
 a present, and showed it to my aunt. 
 
 " There was no harm in taking such a present 
 as that," said my aunt. "Young ladies should 
 not accept valuable gifts from gentlemen unless 
 
232 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 they are accepted suitors, but a mere curiosity 
 which has no special money value is quite a differ 
 ent matter. But I am pleased to see you so open, 
 Dolly. If young ladies would always be so, they 
 would save themselves and their friends a great 
 deal of trouble." 
 
 I think I know that. I am resolved I will have 
 no secrets from my aunt while I am under her 
 roof. 
 
 When I showed the cross to Dr. Burgoin, he 
 said he would add a chain to it, and gave me a 
 string of carved pearl beads which he said came 
 from Nazareth. It seems he hath also been in the 
 Holy Land, and even as far east as Shiraz in Persia, 
 when he was travelling with my uncle Foster. 
 
 January 21. 
 
 I have heard a piece of news which I don t know 
 how to believe. Dr. Burdett dined here. He has 
 recently been to Bath, and was amusing my aunt, 
 who is not very well, with accounts of the hu 
 mors of that place. Presently he turned to me. 
 
 " I met an old friend or acquaintance of yours, 
 Mrs. Dolly. My brother was sent for to see a 
 lady with an attack of spasms; and, as he had a 
 broken leg on his hands, he sent me in his stead to 
 see my Lady Corbet." 
 
 "My old mistress," said I. "And how did 
 you find her ? " 
 
 " With as promising an attack of indigestion as 
 one would wish to see." 
 
Mrs. Studletfa Diary. . 233 
 
 " I suppose she had been eating lobster again," 
 said I. 
 
 " Exactly. She had a hard time, but I relieved 
 her at last. Her gentlewoman, a very nice mid 
 dle-aged body, hearing I was from Exeter, asked 
 me if I had met you, and seemed very glad to hear 
 from you." 
 
 u Dear Mrs. Williams! She was ever a most 
 kind friend to me," said I. 
 
 " She is not likely to stay long where she is, if 
 all tales be true," said the doctor. " My lady is 
 going to be married." 
 
 " Impossible ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Very possible," said the doctor. " Such things 
 happen every day. 
 
 " But she has been married twice before ; and she 
 was always complaining of Sir Charles for spend 
 ing her money and neglecting her, as she said." 
 
 " I suppose she thinks better luck next time, " 
 observed my uncle. " Who is the happy man on 
 this occasion ? " 
 
 " One Capt. Morley, an officer of Kirke s. It is 
 said he has made a deal of money to his own share 
 in the late confiscations." 
 
 " A nice way to make money," said my uncle. 
 
 " A way that some greater people than he have 
 not been ashamed of," said Dr. Burdett. "Even 
 the queen s ladies of honor have traded in the 
 ransoms of the poor little maidens who were be 
 trayed by their schoolmistress into presenting the 
 duke with a banner." 
 
234 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " Well, I wonder at that," said my uncle. " One 
 would not be surprised at any thing in such a 
 hound as this Morley, but that ladies should meddle 
 with such gains does amaze me." 
 
 " Scornful dogs will eat dirty puddings, if they 
 be but rich enough," observed the doctor. He 
 is always shocking my aunt with his proverbs, 
 which, truth to tell, are apt to be more forcible than 
 elegant. But just now her kind heart was too 
 much occupied with her poor little niece to allow 
 her to give her kinsman more than a reproving 
 look. 
 
 " Dorothy, my love, had you not better change 
 your seat ? I fear the air blows on you from that 
 window," said she. " Thomas, set Mrs. Dorothy s 
 chair and plate here by me." 
 
 The little bustle of the change made a diversion, 
 and when we were settled my aunt asked Dr. 
 Burgoin (who also dined with us) if it were true 
 that the Bath had been known so long as people 
 said. No more was needed to set the good man 
 off full tilt on his favorite hobby-horse ; and be 
 tween King Blalud and the Romans, and I know 
 not what Saxon saints, the perilous subject was 
 forgotten. I never did see any one with so much 
 tact and skill as my dear aunt. When we were 
 alone together, I could not forbear putting my 
 arms round her neck and kissing her, though she 
 does not encourage caresses. She returned the 
 kiss, and told me I had behaved beautifully, adding 
 that I had better lie down and rest a little, and 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 235 
 
 that I need not appear at supper unless I liked. 
 I told her I would rather go out in the air, and 
 walk, to which she consented. 
 
 But to think of his marrying that old woman, 
 old enough to be his mother, and with all he knows 
 of her temper. If I wished for revenge for all my 
 wrongs, which I am sure I do not, I am in a way 
 to have it ; but, as I think of it, I do believe she 
 always liked him. She never made him any of the 
 insulting speeches she bestowed so liberally on 
 every one else, and she would always go to extra 
 expense for supper when he visited us. Poor Mrs. 
 Williams, I wonder what she will do ! I am sure 
 she will never in the world live under the same 
 roof with that man, whom she always disliked. I 
 know she has saved money ; and, besides, her skill 
 and accomplishments will easily find her another 
 place. But I think she will feel sadly, for I know 
 she loved her mistress. 
 
 My head aches again to-night, but I am deter 
 mined I will not be ill if I can help it. I fancy 
 Dr. Burdett thought something was wrong, for he 
 asked me specially after my health, and told me to 
 take my Jesuits bark again. 
 
 January 30. 
 
 I have had a slight return of fever, but not 
 nearly so bad as the last, and I am nearly well 
 again ; so that I hope to go down to the village to 
 morrow to see Priscilla Penberthy, who has lost 
 her pretty little maid. Poor thing, she has sorrow 
 on sorrow, and yet she is so very good ! I don t 
 
236 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 understand it. Sometimes I think the best people 
 have the most trouble, like poor Mr. Baxter and 
 the Pendergasts ; and then again I think of mine 
 own, which certainly did not proceed from any 
 goodness on my part. 
 
 February 1. 
 
 I have had an adventure which came near cost 
 ing me dear. That I am alive to write it down, is 
 owing to Mr. Studley. I had been down, to see 
 poor Priscilla, whom I found indeed in deep afflic 
 tion, but taking her trouble in such a sweet and 
 patient spirit as I never saw before, and could not 
 too much admire. She says Dr. Burgoin hath 
 been very kind to her. He has quite won over 
 Dame Penberthy, who now goes to church every 
 Sunday. Coming back I took a somewhat lonely 
 path through the park, intending to look for snow 
 drops, which grow very plentifully at one place, 
 which they say was once a piece of the old convent 
 garden. I found abundance of the pretty white 
 blossoms peeping above the short grass, and gath 
 ered my hands full of them. I had come within 
 sight of the nun s grave (so the people call the 
 little grotto within the earth-work, from some idle 
 tale or other), when I heard a strange noise behind 
 me ; and looking round I saw a great stag pushing 
 his way through the bushes. 
 
 I was not scared at first, for the stags are not 
 often dangerous so late in the winter ; but I sup 
 pose something had put him out of humor, for the 
 moment he saw me he began pawing and tearing 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 237 
 
 up the earth, and bellowing, I don t know the 
 proper name for the noise they make. I looked 
 about. There was no tree that I could climb or 
 even get behind. I had sense enough not to run, 
 and I retreated backward toward a great oak in 
 which was a hollow wherein I thought I might 
 creep. The stag seemed to grow more and more 
 enraged every moment, now making a rush toward 
 me, and now stopping as I stopped, and tearing 
 up the turf. I was weak from my illness, and 
 feared every moment to fall. I am not a coward, 
 but I had given myself up for lost, when I heard 
 a clear, cheery voice behind me say in encouraging 
 tones, 
 
 " To the stones, Mrs. Corbet, to the stones ; but 
 do not run, for your life. I will divert him." 
 
 And with that Mr. Studley stepped out into the 
 open glade ; and taking off his cloak he shook it, 
 shouting loudly at the same time. But the stag 
 was not to be diverted. He seemed to regard me 
 as the one enemy whom he had been seeking all 
 his life. He just turned his head a moment, and 
 then made another rush. 
 
 " Ah, well, we must fight for it then ! " said Mr. 
 Studley composedly. He drew his sword as he 
 spoke, calling to me to go on. But my strength 
 was spent, and I dropped in a heap on the ground, 
 and covered my face ; but I did not faint. I heard 
 the sound of a desperate struggle, and then a fall. 
 I dared not look up till a hand was laid on my 
 shoulder, and a kind voice said cheerily, 
 
238 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 "Look up, Mrs. Dorothy. The danger is over. 
 Look up and see your fallen adversary." 
 
 I looked up : Mr. Studley was standing by me, 
 covered with blood and dust, but apparently un 
 hurt. The stag lay on the ground dead. Like a 
 fool, instead of thanking my preserver, I burst into 
 tears. I think my weeping scared Mr. Studley 
 almost as much as the stag had frightened me. 
 However, he behaved very well. He brought me 
 some water from a spring near by, in a cup which 
 he took out of his pocket ; fanned me with his hat ; 
 and, when I made an effort to rise, he helped me 
 to my feet, and stood looking at me with such a 
 face of alarm, that he nearly set me off laughing. 
 
 " Don t mind me," said I. " It was silly to cry ; 
 but I am not very strong, and a little thing over 
 sets me." 
 
 " An attack from an enraged stag can hardly be 
 called a little thing," said Mr. Studley, looking 
 immensely relieved. " I am overjoyed that I hap 
 pened to come this way. Thank God." 
 
 He took off his hat, and spoke as if he meant it. 
 
 " But you are worn out, and it is too cold and 
 damp for you to sit down. Let me take you to 
 the house," said he ; "and in good time here comes 
 Sir Robert to call me to account for killing his 
 deer." 
 
 My uncle was indeed just coining down the 
 path from the house. 
 
 "Hullo, Dolly! I was coming to look for you," 
 he shouted. " Dan Lee has just told me that the 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 239 
 
 old black stag was in a fury ; and I feared he might 
 meet you and do you a mischief. Who have we 
 here, Mr. Studley?" 
 
 " At your service, sir," said Mr. Studley, bow 
 ing. " As to the stag, he will do no more mischief, 
 I take it, for yonder he lies." 
 
 "Hullo, what does this mean?" asked Sir Rob 
 ert, staring first at the deer and then at Mr. 
 Studley. " Are you turned deer-stealer, Master 
 Precisian ? " 
 
 " You see at least I have not carried off my 
 booty, Sir Robert," answered Mr. Studley, smiling : 
 " so you can send me to jail as soon as you please, 
 since you have taken me red-handed." 
 
 " Mr. Studley saved my life, uncle," said I ; and 
 then, collecting my wits, I told him all about it. 
 
 " I hoped to entangle the creature in my cloak, 
 and so spare his life," added Mr. Studley ; " but 
 he baffled me, so we had a hand-to-hand fight for 
 it. I thought he would be too much for me, and 
 longed for my good hunting-knife instead of this 
 toy," taking up his sword from the grass ; " but I 
 will hold it sacred henceforth, since it has done 
 such good service." 
 
 "Arid are you unhurt yourself?" asked my 
 uncle ; " you know 4 hurt of hart is no laughing 
 matter." 
 
 " I have but a few scratches, which are of no 
 manner of consequence," answered Mr. Studley. 
 " Had we not better take Mrs. Dolly to the house, 
 Sir Robert?" 
 
240 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 "Ay, do SO; and I will take order for this 
 venison." 
 
 " He was a gallant fellow," remarked Mr. Stud- 
 ley, pausing a moment to look at his fallen 
 adversary. "How happens it that he keeps his 
 horns so late as this ? " 
 
 " That I can t tell you. It was an oddity of 
 his, and for that and his great size I prized him. 
 But you have done well, sir, and I thank you 
 most heartily," added my uncle, with that courtly 
 grace which belongs to him with all his roughness. 
 " We had been a sorrowful household if old Bevis 
 had trampled down our clove-gilliflower. Now 
 you must stay and sup with us. Nay, I will take 
 no denial," as Mr. Studley began to speak of his 
 disarray. "I will lend you a suit, or send for 
 one of your own ; but you must give my lady a 
 chance to thank you for saving our dear niece." 
 
 So they settled it between them, and Mr. Stud- 
 ley staid ; but I did not help to entertain him, 
 for I was no sooner in my room than T was taken 
 with a chill, enough to shake me to pieces, so that 
 Betty ran for Sharpless and for her mother in all 
 haste. The poor child really thought I was dying. 
 But Dr. Burnett being summoned (he is staying 
 here at present) said the trouble only came from 
 my being scared and over-wrought. He gave me 
 some composing drops, and bade Sharpless bring 
 me some tea, a drink which he greatly approves, 
 and which Sharpless regards with horror, as I 
 remember Mrs. Williams used to do. He would 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 241 
 
 prepare it for me himself, tempering it with cream 
 and sugar ; and I must say I found it very com 
 forting and refreshing. Then he would have a 
 cup himself; and by some magic of coaxing he 
 made Sharpless have another, and even allow that 
 it was pleasant. 
 
 My aunt came up to see me after supper, and 
 told me Mr. Studley had made himself very agree 
 able. It seems he is visiting Dr. Burgoin, who is 
 his old tutor. 
 
 " He is a fine young man," said my aunt : 
 " tis a pity he has taken up such a strict set of 
 notions." 
 
 " Such as what, madam ? " asked Betty, who 
 had staid with me instead of going to supper. 
 
 " Oh, he happened to let fall that he had been 
 in Seville, where you know your father went with 
 my Lord Sandwich, when he was embassador to 
 Spain. But when Sir Robert asked him about their 
 bull-feasts, he answered, almost with horror, that 
 he had never witnessed one ; and on Sir Robert s 
 asking why, he said he could not think the sight 
 of innocent beasts tortured, and men s lives put in 
 jeopardy, was one for a Christian man to delight 
 in. And when Sir Robert said he had seen good 
 Christian men, and women also, looking on at a 
 bull-baiting, Mr. Studley said very gravely, Sir 
 Robert, can you imagine our blessed Lord and his 
 mother making a part of the company at such a 
 show ? I think your father would have been 
 downright angry if the young man had not just 
 
242 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 done us such a service. Is he a Presbyterian, 
 do you know, Dolly ? " 
 
 "No, aunt; I heard him say when he was at 
 Lady Clarenham s that he was an unworthy mem 
 ber of the Church of England." 
 
 " Ah, well, I am glad of it with all my heart ! " 
 said my aunt, as though she was rejoicing that he 
 was not a forger or coiner. " But it is a great 
 pity that he has taken up such notions. He ought 
 to know more than to set himself up to be so 
 much better than his elders. As if the best 
 people in the land did not promote bull-baitings 
 as a means of keeping up a brave spirit among 
 the common people ! " 
 
 " I do not see any thing very brave in a set of 
 men looking on to see savage dogs torment a 
 poor tethered beast," said Betty. " I always did 
 like it in Gen. Cromwell that he stopped the bear- 
 baiting, and put the poor tortured creatures out of 
 their pain." 1 
 
 "Hush, Betty, you are very much to blame," 
 said her mother severely. "I don t know what 
 your father would say to hear his daughter praising 
 Cromwell." 
 
 Betty was silent, of course, but she did not 
 look very penitent. I must say I think she was 
 right ; and, if a thing is wrong, I don t see that 
 
 1 Macaulay says the Puritan contrived to have the pleasure of 
 tormenting both the spectators and the bear, while the story he 
 tells proves exactly the contrary to any thinking person. But 
 Macaulay never hesitated to sacrifice any thing to the witty or 
 graceful turn of a paragraph. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 243 
 
 the fact of respectable people encouraging it makes 
 the matter any better. 
 
 February 28. 
 
 I have quite recovered from my adventure, which 
 did Mr. Studley more harm than it did me. The 
 wound on his arm, which he made so light of that 
 he would hardly let my aunt do it up with some 
 of her famous healing balsam, inflamed, and was 
 very painful, and even dangerous. However, Dr. 
 Burnett cured it at last. I am glad he was staying 
 here. He has been examining my uncle Foster s 
 books for some scientific matter or other. There 
 are a great quantity of them, as well as many 
 manuscripts, both in Greek and Arabic, which Dr. 
 Burnett says are very valuable. He showed us 
 one very old one, done on vellum, which he says 
 is Persian. It looks as if an army of flies and 
 spiders had held a desperate engagement, and left 
 their severed members behind them. I believe 
 Sharpless was out and out afraid of it. 
 
 As I said, Mr. Studley had a bad time with his 
 arm, but it is now quite well again. He has made 
 us several visits, and is a prime favorite with my 
 uncle, who is obliged to own that the }^oung man 
 is no milksop, though he is so strict in his religious 
 notions. There is a very fine young horse on the 
 place, of the best blood, and a most beautiful 
 creature, but so wild and fierce in his temper that 
 no one has been able to break him heretofore, and 
 all the men are afraid of him. Mr. Studley begged 
 my uncle to allow him to take the creature in 
 
244 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 hand, and he consented, somewhat unwillingly, 
 thinking it a dangerous experiment ; but in a 
 week s time Mr. Studley had Sultan as tame as 
 a kitten, and the creature will follow him any 
 where, all by the force of kindness, as it 
 seems, though the grooms will have it there is 
 some magic in the matter. My uncle told us 
 about it. He said Mr. Studley walked up to the 
 door of the loose box ; and when Sultan came at 
 him, laying back his ears and showing his teeth, 
 he just held out his hand to him. Sultan stopped 
 as if amazed, and presently approaching, almost 
 timidly as it seemed, began smelling his hand 
 and arm. By and by Mr. Studley slipped the 
 other hand over his head and began stroking his 
 ears, and presently offered him some sugar in his 
 open palm ; and so he went on from one endear 
 ment to another, till Sultan at length allowed his 
 new friend to slip a bridle on him and lead him 
 about. Mr. Studley says he learned the secret 
 among the Arabians, who never beat their horses 
 nor break them, as we understand breaking, but 
 bring them up to be friends and companions. It 
 does seem a much more sensible way. I think I 
 should try it with children if I had any ; but it is 
 not likely I shall ever be married. 
 
 March 1. 
 
 A great thing has happened. Mr. Studley has 
 asked my uncle for my hand in marriage, bringing 
 a letter from his father to the same effect, the old 
 gentleman being confined with gout. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 245 
 
 At first, when my aunt broke the matter to me, 
 I thought I could not entertain the idea for a 
 moment; but she has given me several days for 
 consideration, and I have changed my mind. I 
 shall tell my aunt, when she asks me, that I will 
 marry Mr. Studley. 
 
 In the first place, though I can never love him 
 nor any man again in that way, yet Mr. Studley 
 is one that I can heartily respect and admire. Tis 
 true he is over-strict, it may be, in his notions ; 
 but that is a fault on the right side. If he does 
 not play, he will not gamble away his substance, 
 as so many young men yes, and old ones do in 
 these days ; and if he is no drinker, I shall not be 
 mortified by seeing him under the table, or hearing 
 him talk vile, blasphemous nonsense, in his cups, 
 as poor little Mrs. Lightfoot s husband did at Full- 
 ham, I remember. 
 
 Then, though my aunt and uncle make light of 
 it, I know I am something of a charge to them. 
 My uncle lost much money by his ventures, and I 
 can t but think he has lost more in play with Mr. 
 Cheney. He hath been to Fullham two or three 
 times, and always comes home in a bad humor ; 
 and my dear aunt looks very anxious and unhappy 
 at these times. Mr. Studley asks for no dowry 
 with me. He is his father s only son, and the old 
 gentleman is rich. 
 
 And I suppose I must marry some time or other. 
 My good aunt thinks women were made for no 
 other end, and that no so great misfortune can 
 
246 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 befall any one as to be an old maiden, as they call 
 them hereabouts. I have heard her wonder how 
 old Lady Jem Stanton s family could have allowed 
 her to follow such an eccentric course. (She was 
 a lady of quality, who lived in her own house not 
 very far from here. She never married, but kept 
 her house full of orphan maids, whom she brought 
 up in all good ways and housewifely accomplish 
 ments. She died only the other day at a great age.) 
 My aunt, since we came here, has talked of several 
 matches for me ; and I know she would never fee 
 satisfied to have me live single. I owe every 
 thing to her kindness, and I owe my life to Mr. 
 Studley s bravery ; and, if I can pleasure them both 
 at once, why should I not do so ? I can honestly 
 say that I have not one particle of love for Mr. 
 Morley remaining in my heart. Somehow, the 
 notion of his marrying that woman, and being 
 subject to her caprices, did set him in such a 
 mean and ridiculous light that it finished the cure 
 which Dame Penberthy began. I could never love 
 a cruel man. 
 
 I think I can make Mr. Studley a good, dutiful 
 wife. I wish I did love him more ; but my aunt 
 says that will come, and perhaps she is right. I 
 do love him, in a way ; that is, I would like him 
 for my brother. If he had taken to Bess, I should 
 have been delighted. 
 
 March 3. 
 
 I told my aunt this morning, on her questioning 
 me, that I was ready to content her and my uncle 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 247 
 
 by marrying Mr. Studley. She was very much 
 pleased, kissed me, called me her good, dutiful 
 daughter, and was sure I should be very happy. 
 
 My uncle looked rather doubtful. 
 
 " I don t know. She does not look as she did 
 when the other fellow was in hand," he muttered, 
 thinking aloud, as his fashion is ; and then to me, 
 " Are you sure you are content, Dolly ? I won t 
 have my clove-gillyflower sacrificed to anybody, 
 not if I go out as a ploughman to keep her." 
 
 " I am sure, Dolly " my aunt began, but my 
 uncle interrupted her. 
 
 " Let her speak for herself, my lady," he said. 
 " What is it, Doll ? Speak out, and have no fear." 
 
 Thus adjured, I told my uncle I was perfectly 
 content to marry Mr. Studley, whom I esteemed 
 above any young man I had ever seen, and re 
 spected as well ; and that I would do my best to 
 make him a good wife. I don t think my uncle 
 was quite satisfied ; but he kissed me, and wished 
 me joy, and then said he would put poor Studley 
 out of pain. 
 
 I hope Mr. Studley will not expect too much of 
 me. I shall try to have a full and frank explana 
 tion with him if I can. I won t marry any man 
 under false pretences. 
 
 March 4. 
 
 Mr. Studley called this morning, and my aunt 
 informed him that I had accepted his proposals. 
 I must say he behaved beautifully. But oh, if 
 they would only let me live single ! I don t won- 
 
248 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 der girls in popish countries go into nunneries to 
 escape from unwelcome suitors. Good as Mr. 
 Studley is, and much as I respect, yes, and love 
 him too, in a way, I would rather go back to 
 my old way of life with my mistress than marry 
 him. But the die is cast. My word is passed, 
 and I cannot recede. All that remains is to do 
 my duty in that state of life to which it hath 
 pleased God to call me. 
 
 When I said as much to Betty, she took me up 
 sharply. 
 
 " You do not quote it rightly, Dolly. The cate 
 chism does not say, To which it liaihj but to 
 which it SHALL please God to call me. That is a 
 very different matter. And I think one ought to 
 be very sure of that call, before undertaking what 
 you are about to do." 
 
 Betty grows more and more serious every day. 
 She has read my " Pilgrim s Progress " till I think 
 she knows it by heart. My aunt mentioned it to 
 the bishop ; but my lord only laughed, and said 
 young maids were always taking fancies, and it 
 was not worth while to make them of importance 
 by opposition. 
 
 He talked with Betty very kindly and seriously 
 afterward, and I suppose he was satisfied with her 
 spiritual state ; for he told my aunt that her daugh 
 ter was a young lady of an excellent spirit, though 
 somewhat inclined to austerity. 
 
 " But that is a good fault, and not common in 
 these days," he added. " For my part, I should 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 249 
 
 never quarrel with a young lady for loving visit 
 ing the poor more than dancing, and her closet 
 and her Bible more than the card-table and the 
 Devil s books, as you know Mrs. Dolly s Presbyte 
 rian friends call them." 
 
 " But you do not think there is any harm in 
 cards," said my aunt. 
 
 " No more than in push-pin or jack-straws, con 
 sidered in themselves," answered his lordship ; 
 " tis the use that is made of them. You must 
 see, Lady Fullham, all the evils that are now 
 wrought in the community by gambling ; how 
 many families are impoverished and disgraced 
 thereby." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said my aunt, sighing. 
 
 And, indeed, gambling does prevail to a fearful 
 extent. Even the clergy and their families are not 
 exempt. I think the bishop might give us a ser 
 mon on it, instead of some of those on passive 
 obedience and Divine right with which he wearies 
 us, or me at least. I can t help wondering how 
 his non-resistance would hold out if the king were 
 to put one of his popish priests into the see of 
 Exeter, for instance, a thing not so unlikely to 
 happen, if matters go on as we hear they are 
 going at present. 
 
 March 8. 
 
 The day is fixed for my wedding, the 15th of 
 April. My aunt and Sharpless are over head and 
 ears in wedding-clothes. My uncle has been 
 liberal, though I know he is cramped for money ; 
 
250 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 but I think most of my things have come from my 
 aunt s private purse, and then she hath given me 
 most of the wardrobe provided for poor dear Meg. 
 
 Mr. Studley has done us another service, which 
 I think hath bound my aunt to him forever. He 
 was invited to go with my uncle to Fullham. 
 Now, he does not like Mr. Cheney any more than 
 I do, and he neither drinks to excess nor gambles : 
 so the society at Fullham is not specially conge 
 nial to him ; but I think he read something in my 
 aunt s face which made him consent to Sir Robert s 
 request that he would ride over with him. Con 
 trary to what has been the case heretofore, my 
 uncle came home rather early. The next morn 
 ing I was sitting with my aunt, mending of some 
 rare old lace which she has given me, when my 
 uncle came in and threw himself down in a great 
 chair. 
 
 " So, busy with the wedding finery," said he. " I 
 must say, Gilliflower, thou hast chosen the queer 
 est stick of a bridegroom." (As if I had chosen 
 him at all !) u I would you had seen him last 
 night." 
 
 "Why, what did he do?" asked my aunt. 
 " Nothing unbecoming, I trust." 
 
 u Why, no ; at least, I suppose you would not 
 say so. The beginning was at supper. Mr. 
 Cheney produced some Greek wines, which he 
 greatly commended ; but Studley would not taste 
 them, saying he had tried them in their native 
 country, and found them heady and heating. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 251 
 
 And I think they are. I know they got into my 
 head, which is pretty well seasoned." 
 
 " Well," said my aunt, as my uncle paused. 
 
 " Well, Cheney urged them on Studley, and 
 laughed and jeered him more than was becoming 
 a gentleman at his own table, I thought ; but 
 not a whit was my master moved, nor did he lose 
 his temper, though I saw his eyes flash at one jest 
 of his host s, which I will not repeat in a lady s 
 ears. By and by we sat down to cards. Mr. 
 Studley played a game or two of piquet; but 
 when the betting began he put down his cards, 
 and rose from the table. 
 
 " 4 What, man ! Art afraid of losing thy pocket- 
 money, and being whipped by thy dad ? said 
 Mr. Cheney. 4 Thou lookest at the cards as 
 though they were so many spotted adders. Take 
 courage, they will not bite thee. 
 
 " 4 If you had had a dear friend bitten to death 
 by an adder, you would not care to play with the 
 beast, not even if his fangs were drawn ; much 
 less when you saw them dropping venom, an 
 swered Studley. 
 
 " 4 What mean you by that ? asked Mr. Cheney. 
 
 " 4 1 can tell you the tale, if you desire to hear 
 it, answered Studley. 
 
 " Oh, tell it, by all means ! sneered our host ; 
 and I do think the man looks like an incarnate 
 fiend when he wears that mocking smile. I sup 
 pose he thought to find more food for mockery, 
 but he never was more mistaken in his life. Mr. 
 
252 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 Studley began, and told us of a friend of his who 
 had been at college and abroad with him, who was 
 drawn into high play at Paris, whither he had 
 gone, carrying with him a considerable sum be 
 longing to some widow lady. He was drawn in 
 to play, and lost it all. Then he came to his 
 friend s apartment, and told the story, saying that 
 he could not and would not survive the disgrace. 
 
 " 4 1 strove to keep him, saying the money might 
 be retrieved or replaced, continued Studley, but 
 all my arguments were in vain. He broke from 
 me and rushed into the street, and I lost him in 
 the crowd. The next day I saw his dead body 
 drawn out of the river. He had left a letter to 
 me, enclosing one to his father ; and I had to carry 
 to the poor, white-haired old gentleman the news 
 of his only son s disgrace and death. He never 
 held up his head afterward, but died in a few 
 days. Do you wonder, gentlemen, that I have no 
 liking for that which ruined, body and soul, the 
 man I had loved like an own brother ? 
 
 " That was his tale, but I can t tell it as he did. 
 I can tell you, he brought tears to my eyes, for 
 one. Lightfoot, who has been both playing and 
 drinking deeply of late, flung down his hand, 
 and said, with a deep curse, that he wished the 
 Devil, who invented cards and dice, had them 
 again. Cheney blustered a little, and talked of 
 spoil-sports and wet blankets ; but all the company 
 took sides with Studley, and he fairly broke up 
 the party for that time." 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 253 
 
 "I am thankful for it," said my aunt. 
 
 " Well, you may be thankful, my lady," returned 
 my uncle bluntly. " I was in no state to play 
 coolly, and I might have lost pretty deeply. I 
 have already left in Cheney s hands more than 
 I can well afford, and I am ready to swear that 
 I will go thither no more." 
 
 " I wish you would, Sir Robert," said my aunt 
 earnestly. " There is that about the man which 
 repels me, though I cannot tell what it is." 
 
 "They tell hard stories about him," observed 
 my uncle ; " as that he hath been a slave-dealer, or 
 even a pirate. Studley says he is sure he hath 
 seen him in the East, though he cannot tell where. 
 But I would you had seen and heard the young 
 fellow. I wonder at such notions in the son of 
 old George Studley, who was any thing but a saint 
 when I knew him." 
 
 Anyhow, I like Mr. Studley none the worse for 
 his conduct. I think it must take more courage 
 for a young man to stand up in that way, than if 
 he had faced a battery of cannon. 
 
 I have had a great pleasure in a letter from Bab 
 Andrews. She promised to write me, but I did 
 not build much upon it, knowing how much she 
 would have to engage her attention, and how in 
 frequent is the communication; but then, if Bab 
 promised any thing, it was ever certain to come to 
 pass. I am sure, if my aunt knew her, she would 
 get over some of her violent prejudices for they 
 are no more against every one who does not be- 
 
254 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 long to the Church of England. My mistress felt 
 just so towards every one who was not a Presby 
 terian, and could hardly forgive Mr. Baxter for 
 allowing that an Anabaptist could write a good 
 book. I think one is about as reasonable as the 
 other. Of course, I believe my side is right, 
 because it would not otherwise be my side ; and if 
 I think salt is white, I must needs think that man 
 mistaken who says it is black or red, but that 
 need not make me consider him a hypocrite or 
 a villain. However, I have got a long way from 
 Bab and her letter. She tells me they had a long 
 though a prosperous voyage, and landed at a place 
 called Newcastle, which is some way up the great 
 river of the Dela wares, and quite a thriving little 
 town. However, she did not stay there, but in a 
 few days removed to the other side of the river, to 
 West Jersey, where her aunt lives in a place called 
 Cohansey Bridge-town. Bab says the bridge is 
 there, such as it is ; but the town is still greatly to 
 seek, there being not more than six or eight houses 
 in all. 1 Bab writes as follows : 
 
 "I had expected a good many hardships and 
 privations, and was surprised enough to find my 
 good aunt living in great comfort, in a neat house, 
 partly of stone and partly of hewn logs, but all 
 pleasant and comfortable. The stone is of a dark 
 red color, and when first taken out of the ground 
 cuts very easily, but by exposure to the weather 
 
 1 I am not quite certain that there was any town at all, though 
 there was a bridge at this point in very early times. 
 
Mrs. tStudle^s Diary. 255 
 
 becomes hard enough for building. The log 
 houses are warm, and to my thinking very pretty. 
 The worst is they harbor insects, and especially 
 earwigs as long as your finger, very frightful, but 
 not dangerous, though they can give a nip in 
 self-defence ; but they are very timid and easily 
 killed. My aunt hath a fine orchard of peach and 
 apple trees ; and we have abundance of nice winter 
 apples, and of peaches also, which are preserved 
 by being cut into quarters and dried in the sun. 
 They are very good, and so plentiful that the 
 poorest people can have them. The climate is 
 mild even now, and I enclose a rosebud which I 
 gathered in our garden yesterday. 
 
 " There is full liberty in these parts for every one 
 to worship God in his own way. We have half a 
 dozen sorts represented in this little settlement, 
 Quakers, Presbyterians, and Anabaptists, but all 
 live in peace. The Presbyterians have Sunday 
 worship in the little log schoolhouse, when there 
 is any one to conduct it." 
 
 She tells me a great deal more about the place 
 and country, of the Indian savages, who live in 
 great peace with the white people ; of the birds, 
 which are abundant; and of the little school which 
 she has set up, and in which she has gathered all 
 the children of the settlement, and ends with 
 these words : 
 
 " I would you were with me, Dolly. Do you 
 know, when I used to build my castle in the air, 
 about coming out here, you always occupied one 
 
256 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 room thereof? I fully intended to ask you to 
 come with me, whenever I came ; but of course, 
 after your aunt so kindly adopted you, that was 
 out of the question." 
 
 When I read this to my aunt, who was much 
 interested in the letter, she said, 
 
 "But you would never have gone, Dolly?" 
 
 " I believe I should, madam," I answered. " I 
 think I should have done almost any thing to es 
 cape from Lady Corbet, and I was always fond of 
 Bab." 
 
 " Ah, well, it hath all ended for the best," ob 
 served my aunt. " I am glad I came in the nick 
 of time to save you from such a fate." 
 
 Am I glad? I don t know that I am. I think 
 I would like to be in New Jersey with Bab at this 
 minute, gathering of wild flowers, which she says 
 make the land like a garden, or helping her in 
 her little school, or her aunt in the farm-work. 
 No, I can t say that I think all is for the best. 
 But, a& things were then, should I have gone ? I 
 can t tell, and there is no use in speculating. 
 
 I don t understand my own feelings at all. I 
 think sometimes I have none. I am content to drift 
 with the current, careless where I shall land. I 
 hope, for the sake of my family, I shall make no 
 utter shipwreck. I hope, too, that I shall make a 
 good wife to my husband, who certainly deserves 
 a far better one. 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 257 
 
 March 20. 
 
 How fast the time runs on ! News has come 
 from London which has decided my aunt and 
 uncle to go thither as soon as the wedding is over. 
 It is something concerning my uncle s speculating 
 venture, out of which he hopes to save somewhat. 
 I think my aunt is pleased. So is not Betty, who 
 hates London and all the round of plays and balls 
 and all the rest of the gayeties. 
 
 Mr. Studley hath been home to visit his father, 
 and I cannot but think since his return his spirits 
 have been somewhat flatter than his wont. He 
 tells me one thing which I am glad to hear ; namely, 
 that his father hath promised to fit up a separate 
 house on the estate for us, that we may keep 
 house. 
 
 " Tis but a plain old house and not large," said 
 he to me, " but it is comfortable ; and I thought 
 you would rather govern your own household, 
 though it were but a small one." 
 
 " You were right," said I. " I believe it is 
 much the best arrangement. I don t care how 
 plain the house is, so we do but have it to our 
 selves." 
 
 " You don t care for luxury," remarked Mr. 
 Studley, looking well pleased. 
 
 " I won t say that," I answered. " I like it well 
 enough, but even in my short life I have seen 
 enough to know that outward things have little to 
 do with happiness." 
 
 " You are right there, Dolly," said Mr. Studley, 
 
258 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 sighing. " Unless there be peace within, no out 
 ward peace avails any thing. But I hope we shall 
 have both in our quiet little home." 
 
 Then he went on to describe to me the house 
 and garden, the poultry yard, and other conven 
 iences ; and I listened, glad to please him in any 
 way. Finally I asked about the church and par 
 son. He shook his head rather sadly. 
 
 44 The church is well enough, though small and 
 rustical, but there is a fine painted window, and 
 sundry old carvings and monumental brasses 
 which were the delight of my good old tutor when 
 he visited us ; but as to the parson, the less said the 
 better. He is no credit to the place that he fills." 
 
 " That must be a grief to you," I remarked. 
 
 " It is, indeed, and I would matters were other 
 wise ; but at present I can do nothing save wait 
 and pray." 
 
 I never saw a young man like Mr. Studley, I 
 mean one whose religion seemed so a part of him 
 self. He never parades it any more than he does 
 his travels or his music; but, when he has occasion 
 to speak thereof, it is with no more hesitation or 
 embarrassment than he would speak of being in 
 Rome. 
 
 April 10. 
 
 The day is near at hand, and all the prepara 
 tions are finished, for which I am glad. I have 
 been so out of patience with the foolish finery at 
 times, I have felt an insane longing to tear it to 
 pieces or burn it up. If Mr. Studley were as 
 
Mrs. St-udley s Diary. 259 
 
 foolishly fond as some men are in the like circum 
 stances, I believe I should quarrel with him ; but 
 that is not his way. Only at times I catch his 
 eyes fixed on me with a look that goes to my heart, 
 and makes me feel like weeping. Such a look 
 from Mr. Morley would have made me happy for 
 a week; but, try as I will, I can t feel the love for 
 him that I did for that unworthy man. I am glad 
 he is out of my way, where I am not like to see 
 him. I wonder if he is married. To think of a 
 man selling himself in that way ! But Betty says 
 Lord Chesterton told her that Mr. Morley is a 
 gamester and loaded with debt. I fancy he is 
 much mistaken if he thinks my lady will pay 
 flie in for him. I do hope at least he will have the 
 honesty to tell her of them. 
 
 I am not going to write in my journal any more ; 
 that is, more than to set down the day s events, per 
 haps. I can t quite make up my mind to destroy 
 these two volumes which have been such a comfort 
 to me, but I shall seal them up and put them away. 
 I will not write any thing that I cannot show to 
 my husband, for I am resolved I will have no 
 secrets from him. 
 
 If I could but love him as I loved that other ! 
 If I had only seen him first ! If only something 
 would not keep whispering his name to me, and 
 suggesting But there, I won t write it. 
 
 I am resolved that I will do rny best to be a 
 good wife to Mr. Studley, and a dutiful daughter 
 to his old father, who, from what I hear, is like 
 
260 Through Unknoivn Ways. 
 
 enough to be somewhat of a trial. It may be that 
 in time something like love will come to me. I 
 think my aunt suspects the state of my heart, for 
 she discoursed largely last night of the nature of 
 true affection, and how much better foundation 
 for happiness were respect and esteem than the 
 blind passion commonly called love. I wonder if 
 she thought so when she married Mr. Foster. 
 From what I have learned about him from Dr. 
 Burnett and Dr. Burgoin, he and my aunt could 
 not have been very congenial spirits, yet Dr. 
 Burnett says it was altogether a love match. 
 
 Ah, well, the die is cast! The sacrifice is made, 
 and there is no receding. Since I must needs be 
 married, I am glad my aunt s choice has fallen 
 upon such a worthy man, whom, as I have said to 
 myself over and over again, I can respect and 
 admire, if I do not love him. 
 
THE THIRD BOOK. 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 Stud/ey Hall, 1687. 
 
 | HEN I was looking over my things in 
 preparation for removing from the farm 
 to this house, I opened a trunk mail in 
 which I had stored away a quantity of finery 
 unsuitable to a farmer s wife. Turning over the 
 things, my hand fell upon a square sealed package, 
 of which I could not remember the contents. 
 Breaking the seals, I found my two old journal 
 books, which used to stand me in stead of con 
 fidential friends and father confessor. I fell to 
 looking them over ; and Mr. Studley coming in at 
 the moment, I read him the last pages I wrote. 
 He laughed, and kissed me, saying, " All s well 
 that ends well." 
 
 "Perhaps so," I answered; "but, Ned, I can see 
 now what a wrong I did you, and what a sin I 
 committed, in wedding you as I did ; promising so 
 solemnly to love, honor, and obey, when my heart 
 was not in the matter." 
 
 " Ah, well, you have been a fairly dutiful and 
 obedient wife, save when you will go out in the 
 wet to hunt up your missing fowls," said Mr. 
 
 263 
 
264 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 Studley ; " and as to love, I think there is a little 
 between us, Dolly." Then he added more gravely : 
 " In truth, dear wife, if there was any blame, it 
 attached more to me than to you. I was not so 
 blinded by my love but that I could see how you 
 felt toward me. You would hardly have walked 
 down as far as the red gate to meet your bride 
 groom coming to woo, even in the finest weather, 
 as you did yesterday in the rain to meet your 
 stupid, humdrum old goodman coming from market, 
 you foolish woman ! " 
 
 " I wanted to see if you had forgotten my knit 
 ting-pins," said I, pretending to pout. 
 
 " And so send me back for them. No doubt I 
 should have gone, like an obedient, hen-pecked 
 husband, as I am ; only you forgot to ask for them 
 at all, and here they are in my pocket. But 
 indeed, Dolly, I was to blame. I knew your heart 
 was not in the match ; but it seemed to my self- 
 will as if I could not live without you, and I was 
 vain enough to believe I could win your regard if 
 I had a fair chance." 
 
 " How conceited some men are ! " I said. 
 
 " But, Dolly, since you are like, or so I hope, to 
 have a little more leisure, with our mended for 
 tunes, why should you not continue your chronicle 
 down to the present time ? " continued my husband. 
 " It will be a pleasant pastime, and our daughter 
 will like , to read them when she is a sober house- 
 dame like thyself." 
 
 " It seems odd to think that mite of a creature 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 265 
 
 should ever be a sober, married woman," said I, 
 regarding my three months old Barbara asleep 
 in her cot ; " but I suppose we were all like that 
 once. I hope she may have as good a fortune 
 as her mother before her ; only I would not have 
 her left as I was, for the lot of an orphan maid is 
 too often a sad one. But then, as you say, 4 all s 
 well that ends well. 
 
 Mrs. Williams, coming in for some directions 
 about the new cheeses, put an end to the talk for 
 that time, but my husband adverted to it more 
 than once afterward ; and as we are now quite 
 settled in our new home, and we have the house 
 well cleaned, which it greatly needed, and every 
 thing is going on well, I know no reason why I 
 should not content him. He has gone to Plymouth 
 for a week to see about some property there, and 
 I have a mind to surprise him when he comes 
 home. 
 
 To begin with the wedding. It went off as such 
 things usually do, I suppose. Betty was brides 
 maid, and I am sure a soberer one was never seen. 
 I don t think I was a very sober bride. Somehow, 
 just at the last, a reckless spirit took possession of 
 me. Dr. Burnett had been to the Bath again, and 
 had brought news that Mr. Morley was actually 
 married to his ancient bride : she is sixty-five at 
 the very least. When I heard that, as I said 
 before, a spirit of recklessness took possession of 
 me. I was determined to show that I did not 
 care : so I talked and laughed, entered with zeal 
 
266 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 into all the preparations for the festivities, and 
 feigned the greatest interest in my wedding array. 
 I saw Mr. Studley look at me with wondering eyes 
 more than once. I suppose he must have said 
 something to my aunt, for I heard her tell him 
 that young maids spirits were always variable at 
 such times. 
 
 The wedding-day is much like a dream to me. 
 We were married at the parish church ; and almost 
 the only clear remembrance I have is the face of 
 old Dame Penberthy, as she pressed a bunch of 
 blue and white violets into my hand at the church 
 door. 
 
 We had no very great wedding festivities, for 
 the absence of which my aunt s mourning was 
 a sufficient excuse. Our only guests were the 
 bishop s family, who are my aunt s relations, a few 
 of our nearest neighbors, and Mr. and Mrs. Light- 
 foot. Mr. Lightfoot had sought Mr. Studley s 
 company since that evening at Fullham which I 
 have recorded, and by his persuasion had left off 
 cards and dice, and given himself to retrieving 
 his encumbered estate. Mrs. Lightfoot looked 
 upon my husband almost as an angel, as well, 
 indeed, she might, poor little woman ! 
 
 The next day after my marriage was lovely, 
 and my husband asked me to walk out in the 
 park with him. All rny high spirits had evapo 
 rated by that time, and a kind of impatient mis 
 ery had succeeded to it. I felt as if I could not 
 endure any thing. I bent down to gather a prim- 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 267 
 
 rose, and as I did so I scratched my hand with a 
 thistle ; and in my vexation I gave vent to an oath, 
 
 a modish oath, such as half the fine ladies in 
 London used without ever giving it a thought. I 
 had caught up the habit there, and had been try 
 ing to break myself of it ; but I think such a habit 
 one of the hardest in the world to conquer. I was 
 brought to myself by my husband s look of almost 
 horrified surprise. 
 
 " Dolly ! " said he, and the tone spoke volumes. 
 I felt the blood come up in my cheeks, but I tried 
 to carry it off lightly. 
 
 " I did not mean any thing," said I ; "it was 
 only a trick I picked up in London. Everybody 
 there uses such words." 
 
 " If the whole world used them, I could not be 
 reconciled to hearing them from the lips of my 
 dear wife," said Mr. Studley. " See you not, my 
 love, that it is this very light use of the word 
 which the Commandment forbids, the taking 
 the holy name in vain, or lightly?" 
 
 " I suppose so," I answered. " The truth is, 
 Mr. Studley, I am not one bit religious. I was 
 once, I believe ; at least, when I was confirmed 
 I made many good resolutions, and did love to 
 read in the Bible and to go to church. But after 
 wards, somehow, it all became dim and unreal to 
 me. I did not go to church, and the books I read 
 to my mistress were only tasks to me ; and since " 
 
 I stopped, horrified at the words which came to 
 my lips. 
 
268 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 "Since when, my dear?" asked my husband 
 gently. " Canst thou not open thy heart to thy 
 husband, my Dorothy ? " 
 
 Now, I had resolved that the name of Philip 
 Morley should nevermore pass my lips, that Mr. 
 Studley should never know what he had been to 
 me. While I was fully resolved to have no se 
 crets from my husband, as soon as he became so, 
 it seemed to me that my single life was mine own. 
 
 But I know not what possessed me ; whether I 
 had endured as long as endurance was possible, or 
 whether the kindness of his manner broke down 
 my reserve, as ice is melted by the warm south 
 winds : I began at the beginning, and told him 
 the whole story of my life, how Mr. Harpe had 
 cheated me, and my mistress abused me ; how I saw 
 Mr. Morley first, and all about my acquaintance 
 with him, even to those clandestine meetings in the 
 park, which I can never think of without shame 
 and anger. 
 
 " And I can t be religious : how can I ? " I con 
 cluded. "How can I think Heaven has been 
 good to me, or that any one there loves me, when 
 I have been so thwarted and shamed and tossed 
 about? I might as well think that God cared for 
 one of those withered weeds, or a bit of tangle on 
 the shore/ 
 
 I stopped, rather scared at my own desperate 
 words. Mr. Studley had been standing before 
 me, as I sat on a rustic bench in the shade of a 
 thicket. To my surprise he turned from me, and 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 269 
 
 walked away without a word, disappearing among 
 the trees. 
 
 What would I not have given to recall what I 
 had said? I had thrown away my husband s 
 love and respect ; and, now they were gone, it 
 seemed that I would give worlds to have them 
 back again. I seemed all at once to realize all I 
 felt for him. What would he do? Would he 
 ever speak to me again ? Would he leave me al 
 together, and go away ? What would my friends 
 say if he did, and where should I hide my dis 
 graced head when they knew all ? 
 
 Tears came to my eyes at last ; but they were 
 hot, burning tears, and gave me no relief. I 
 covered my face with my hands, and was sitting 
 in a kind of heavy, listless despair, when all at 
 once my head was drawn to a warm, strong rest 
 ing-place, and a kind hand wiped my tears. Not 
 a word was spoken till I looked up, and said, m a 
 voice that was hardly articulate, 
 
 " I thought you had gone and left me." 
 
 " No, indeed ; you do not get rid of me so eas 
 ily," replied my husband. " I ought not to have 
 left you alone so long, but I confess I had need of 
 a little solitude to compose my spirits." 
 
 " Then you don t hate me ? " 
 
 " Not quite yet. It would be a strange love, 
 methinks, which would be alienated by such open 
 ness as yours, my Dolly. I own that for a moment 
 I was shocked and startled by what you told me. 
 But I do not believe you love this man." 
 
270 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " No, indeed," I answered, with energy. " It is 
 a wonder to me how I could ever care for him." 
 
 " It is no great wonder, under the circumstances. 
 But, Dolly, you say that } r ou cannot love God be 
 cause he hath dealt so hardly with you. Was it 
 hard dealing with you not to leave you to reap the 
 harvest of your own self-will and indiscretion?" 
 
 "No, perhaps not. But why did he take my 
 mother from me, and leave me a forlorn orphan 
 maid, with no one to guide me ? " 
 
 " That I cannot tell you. It belongs to the 
 great unsolvable riddle, the existence of evil at 
 all. But, Dolly, is it quite true that he left you 
 with no one to guide you? You say that both 
 Mrs. Williams and your friend Mrs. Andrews 
 warned you. And was there not something within 
 which confirmed their warnings ? " 
 
 " It is true," I answered. " I knew all the time 
 I was doing wrong." 
 
 " Exactly. You see your Father did not leave 
 you alone, after all." 
 
 " I wish I could feel that he were my Father 
 indeed," said I. " I would I could love him as 
 you do. I have tried, but I cannot." 
 
 " That is because you have not tried in the right 
 way, my dear one," answered my husband. " You 
 could not love him while you thought him your 
 foe. 4 We love him because he first loved us. 
 And with that he began and drew a picture of the 
 love of God, and the work of the Holy Trinity in 
 our redemption, so tender, so moving, supporting 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 271 
 
 all he said by the words of Scripture, as I never 
 heard the like from any preacher. I wept abun 
 dantly ; but my tears were cool and refreshing, and 
 seemed to overflow and carry away all remains of 
 that spring of bitterness in my heart which had 
 been poisoning my life. 
 
 " But you make my case worse and worse, 
 Edward," said I. (I don t think I had ever called 
 him by his name before.) " If I have been sin 
 ning all my life against such love as this you de 
 scribe, and which I must needs believe in, how can 
 I ever be forgiven ? What remains for such a 
 sinner ? " 
 
 " Eternal life, if the sinner will but take the free 
 gift held out to her," answered my husband. "Do 
 you not see, Dolly, that the fact of your being a 
 sinner, is in one way your title to salvation ? " 
 
 "I don t understand," said I. "Must one not 
 be good to be saved." 
 
 "Yes and no. You put the cart before the 
 horse, as we say in these parts. You are not to be 
 saved because you are good, but you are to be good 
 because you are saved. If you could work out 
 your salvation, then were our Lord s work useless. 
 But he came into the world to save sinners. You 
 are a sinner ; ergo, he came into the world to save 
 you. Does not that make it plain ? " 
 
 We talked a long time. He showed me at last, 
 plainly, both by the Bible and Prayer-Book, that I 
 had only to believe that the Lord had died for me, 
 and to put rny trust in him, in order to reap all the 
 
272 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 benefits of his passion. He showed me how all 
 the services and sacraments pointed the same way, 
 and served to the same end, that God s children 
 were to perfect holiness in his fear, because they 
 were his children by creation, by adoption at our 
 baptism, and at last by our own act and deed con 
 senting thereto. I cannot write all that he said. 
 I know from that hour life was a new thing to 
 me. 
 
 "But we must not sit here too long: the air is 
 growing chill," said he. " Your aunt will chide 
 me if you get the ague from my carelessness." 
 
 "It will be an ague well bought," said I. And 
 then, a little mischievously, " Then you won t 
 quite give up your wayward little wife, though she 
 has been such a naughty girl ? " 
 
 His only answer was a kiss, which for the very 
 first time I returned. From that hour I began to 
 love my husband ; and that love has grown, and 
 will grow while life remains. 
 
 We went round by the spring, and I stopped to 
 bathe my eyes, which were swollen with weeping. 
 Nevertheless, my aunt saw the traces of my tears, 
 and followed me to my room, saying with some 
 anxiety, 
 
 " I hope nothing has gone wrong, my love." 
 
 "No, dear aunt, the farthest possible from 
 wrong," I answered ; " only I have been holding a 
 long talk with my husband. I think we under 
 stand each other better than ever before." 
 
 u That is well," said my aunt, evidently relieved. 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 273 
 
 (I think she had had her misgivings all along.) 
 " I must say one thing for you, Dolly, you are the 
 most candid young person I have ever met. I 
 feel that I know more of you than I do of mine 
 own daughter." 
 
 I do think she did. But if I had grown up 
 under my aunt s system, should I have been more 
 open with her than Betty is? I doubt it. I know 
 one thing, I will always encourage my Barbara to 
 open her heart to her mother. How can a child 
 be frank, a child at least who thinks for herself, 
 who is repressed and set down, and even severely 
 reproved for speaking out her thoughts when they 
 happen to differ from her elders. I remember 
 how even Meg was chidden and punished because 
 she said she thought it not right for women to 
 play indecent parts upon the stage. But this is by 
 the way. 
 
 I asked my aunt to excuse me from going to 
 supper, not feeling in the mood to meet my uncle s 
 jokes, which were not the most refined. My aunt 
 kindly consented, and said she would send Mary 
 with my tray ; but Mr. Studley, hearing of the 
 matter, would bring it up himself, and even feed 
 me. We got frolicking over it like two silly chil 
 dren ; but, indeed, my heart felt so light I was ready 
 for any thing. Then Mr. Studley brought out a 
 new piece of music he had bought for me at 
 Exeter, an evening hymn, by the good Bishop of 
 Bath and Wells, set to a fine canon of Tallis s, 
 and we sang it together. We went down to 
 
274 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 prayers ; and I think my aunt, and even Betty, 
 were satisfied with my looks. 
 
 The next day, when we were alone together, 
 Betty said to me in her blunt way, 
 
 "What has come over you, Dolly? You look 
 as though }^ou had seen some joyful sight." 
 
 " And so I have," I answered her; and I told her 
 a little of the talk I had held with my husband. 
 
 " You have a right to be happy," said she, and she 
 sighed. " Dolly, you don t know how I dread this 
 visit to London. I know just how it will be. All 
 the visiting and play-going and vanity will begin 
 over again, and I cannot join in it. I dare not do 
 so, thinking as I do. I shall have to run counter 
 to my mother in every thing, and what will be 
 come of me ? " 
 
 " Now you are borrowing trouble," said I. " If 
 I were you, I would lay my trouble before the 
 bishop, you know his lordship is always very 
 kind to you, and ask his advice." 
 
 "I have," answered Betty, "and much good it 
 did." 
 
 " Why, what did he say ? " 
 
 " He said that while I was under my mother, it 
 was my duty to obey her in all things which did 
 not go against rny conscience ; and that I must be 
 careful not to make a confusion between my con 
 science and my taste, not to think things must be 
 wrong because I did not like them." 
 
 " Well, I am sure that was good," I remarked ; 
 " and what then ? " 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 275 
 
 "Then he patted my head, and gave me his 
 blessing and a book of his friend Bishop Wilson s, 
 and bade me remember that even in Vanity Fair 
 Christiana found some good people, and that, at 
 any rate, sufficient unto the day was the evil 
 thereof. " 
 
 I don t see how he could have given Betty any 
 better advice, but I could see she was not satisfied. 
 And, indeed, my good aunt s theory and practice 
 were hard to reconcile. She gave us books to 
 read which taught us that this world was nought, 
 and then would have us live as if it were all. I 
 could not but wonder that the bishop should quote 
 such a book as the "Pilgrim s Progress," but then 
 he reads every book that comes in his way. I 
 dare say he might pick it up at a stall, where he 
 is always hunting for curiosities in that line. 
 
 The next day but one my husband and myself 
 set out for our new home. We were to go by sea 
 from Exmouth to Biddeford, where we would be 
 met by my father-in-law s horses and servants. I 
 had never been on the water in my life, and was 
 scared at the idea, though I would not have said 
 so for the world ; but my husband and my uncle 
 both thought it would be easier for me than the 
 rough land journey over the moors, by roads 
 which are not too safe at any time, and which have 
 been much worse since the troubles last year drove 
 so many desperate men to take refuge in those 
 wilds and almost inaccessible morasses. 
 
 However, I must say I found the voyage very 
 
276 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 pleasant. The vessel, though small, was clean and 
 well found; and the captain and sailors, who knew 
 my husband well, were civil and attentive. I was 
 sick hardly at all, and there was so much of nov 
 elty to engage my attention that the time seemed 
 not long to me. 
 
 We landed safely one pleasant morning at Bid- 
 deford, which is a quaint little town, once of con 
 siderable importance, but a good deal decayed. 
 We went at once to the principal inn, where we 
 ordered some refreshment, as it was nearly noon. 
 While we were eating and drinking, the landlord 
 came to say that a man desired speech of my hus 
 band ; and presently he brought him up, an 
 elderly, steady man, the very model of an old- 
 fashioned serving-man. 
 
 " Welcome, Andrew ! " said my husband. " You 
 see I have brought my wife." 
 
 The old man bowed, and drank my health in a 
 cup of ale, which, at my husband s sign, I poured 
 out and gave him. 
 
 " And what is the news from home ? " asked my 
 husband. "I suppose the timbered house is all 
 ready for us." 
 
 " Why, no, Master Edward, it be n t," said the 
 old man rather reluctantly. " Your father has 
 altered his mind about it, and you and the young 
 mistress are to come to Studley Hall. I only 
 hope you will like the company you find there." 
 
 "What do you mean, Andrew?" asked my 
 husband : and, as Andrew hesitated, he added, with 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 277 
 
 more impatience than is his wont, " Speak out, 
 man, and tell us the truth, whatever it is. Bad 
 news does not mend by keeping." 
 
 " And that s true, Master Ned," said the serving- 
 man. " Well, then, here it is. My master hath 
 taken Mr. Kirtori and his sister to live with him ; 
 and she rules the household within, and he with 
 out." 
 
 My husband turned ashy pale, and his eyes shot 
 fire as he asked, in a tone not the least like his 
 own, 
 
 " Is he married to her ? " 
 
 " He says so, and certainly he ought to be," 
 answered Andrew reluctantly ; " but no one knows 
 where the wedding was done, nor who married 
 them. Anyhow, my lady rules with a high hand, 
 and most of the old servants have left." 
 
 " When was this done ? " asked my husband, in 
 the same hard, constrained voice. 
 
 "About three weeks ago," answered Andrew. 
 " My master laughed when he told us, and said he 
 would steal a march on Master Milksop. But I 
 had best go and see to the horses," added the good 
 old man, guessing, I suppose, that we would rather 
 be alone together. " I shall be below the win 
 dow in the court, mistress, if you will but make 
 a sign when I am wanted." 
 
 With these words he withdrew, shutting the 
 door behind him. My husband walked up and 
 down the room two or three times ; and then drop 
 ping into a chair, and laying his head on his 
 
278 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 folded arms, he fairly burst into tears, and sobbed 
 like a babe. 
 
 I soothed him as well as I could. I was scared, 
 for there was something terrible in the grief of one 
 usually so self-restrained. When I saw him grow 
 ing quiet, I ventured to ask, 
 
 " What has happened, Edward ? Who are these 
 people ? " 
 
 "The woman is such an one as I would not 
 have you even name," said he. " The man is a 
 physician, at least so he calls himself, and he 
 hath some skill that way. He helped my father 
 in a fit of gout in the stomach, and hath crept into 
 his confidence more and more ; though I believe 
 him as unworthy of trust as a man can be. I 
 have feared at times that my father was taken 
 with the woman, who is very handsome, in a 
 way ; but I never thought to see her in the 
 place of my mother, a saint if one ever lived on 
 earth. O Dolly, to think I should have brought 
 you to this ! " and again he gave way to his grief, 
 though but for a few moments. Then composing 
 himself, 
 
 " The question is, what to do ? " 
 
 " Will you not read your father s letter ? " I 
 asked, handing him the letter which old Andrew 
 had given me. " That may throw some light on 
 the subject." 
 
 The letter was kind enough, though somewhat 
 needlessly blustering ; saying that we would be 
 welcome to his house, provided that we would 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 279 
 
 treat his wife with respect, and that his son was 
 prepared to behave like a man. 
 
 " Ay, I know what that means," said my hus 
 band. " Well, what shall we do, Dolly ? " 
 
 " In my judgment we had better take up with 
 the invitation," I answered, trying to speak cheer 
 fully, though I was dreadfully disappointed. I 
 had built so much on going to my own house. 
 " This person is your father s wife, it seems ; and 
 as such we must treat her with respect, as he says. 
 If we find we cannot live there, it will be time to 
 think what to do next." 
 
 " But I know not what that will be," said my 
 husband. "My father promised to allow me a 
 house and land, and four hundred pounds a } T ear ; 
 and if he sees fit to quarrel with me, as I make no 
 doubt he will, if Kirton can bring it about, we 
 shall be left destitute." 
 
 " Then you shall take your violin, and I will 
 take my lute, and we will go sing at fairs and wed 
 dings, till we win money enough to rent a cottage 
 at Biddeford, or somewhere else, where you shall 
 be parish-clerk, and I will knit hose, and spin fine 
 thread," said I. " In truth, dear Edward, we are 
 wrong to borrow trouble. We are both young 
 and strong, not made of sugar nor salt, to be 
 washed away in the first shower of adversity." 
 
 " I don t know. I think you have a good deal 
 of both in your composition, Dolly," said my hus 
 band. 
 
 " Of course I have," I answered, overjoyed to see 
 
280 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 him smile again. "Don t you know that little girls 
 are made of 
 
 * Sugar and spice, and all that s nice ? " 
 
 " I know one little girl that is, at all events," he 
 answered. " Dolly, what have I done to deserve 
 such a good wife ? " 
 
 " Why, nothing," I answered demurely. " Have 
 not you yourself taught me that we don t get 
 good things because we deserve them ? " 
 
 "And you think we had better go on to my 
 father s?" 
 
 " Truly, I do." 
 
 " And what is to become of our fine castle in the 
 air?" he asked, smiling sorrowfully. 
 
 " It is in the air still," I answered ; " but it may 
 yet descend to earth, and rest on a solid founda 
 tion. And if we cannot have our castle, why we 
 will be content with a cottage, as I said." 
 
 We talked matters over by ourselves and with 
 old Andrew, whom we called into our counsels. 
 I could see that the old man was very doubtful 
 about our reception. Afterward, Edward hav 
 ing gone out in the town about some business, 
 Andrew told me privately that he believed both 
 Mr. Kirton and his sister had done their best to 
 prejudice old Mr. Studley against his son, which 
 he added was needless, as Mr. Ned had never 
 been a favorite with his father. It seems there 
 was a younger brother of a very different dispo 
 sition from Edward, and much more congenial to 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 281 
 
 his father, who was killed at sixteen by a fall from 
 his horse. 
 
 " It was no fault of Master Ned s," continued 
 Andrew. "Indeed, he did his best to persuade 
 poor Walty from going out. My master had 
 taught him to drink deeply already, and he was in 
 no state to manage a fiery horse ; but his father 
 cheered him on, and they both laughed at Ned 
 for a milksop and a coward. But the horse was 
 enraged with the whip and spur, which Walty 
 plied mercilessly : he reared and threw him off, and 
 his brains were dashed out against the wall of the 
 court." 
 
 " How very sad ! But Edward was not to 
 blame for that." 
 
 " No, my pretty I mean my young mistress," 
 said the old man, catching himself up, " but it 
 was visited on him, for all that. Then Master 
 Ned took up with strict notions about religion, 
 and that angered his father still more. The old 
 master did every thing to drive them out, from 
 sending him to travel abroad, to putting him to 
 work in the stable." 
 
 " Surely, he never did that," said I. 
 
 " Indeed he did, mistress. Many s the time I 
 have seen Master Ned in his frock, rubbing down 
 the horses as cheerfully as you please. Afterward, 
 he sent him abroad with my young Lord Stantoun, 
 and then put him to govern my Lady Clarenham s 
 household, thinking because she was a great court 
 lady, Mr. Ned would get over his strict notions 
 with her." 
 
282 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 "It was not a very good choice, if that was 
 what his father desired," said I. " My Lady Clar- 
 enham, though a court lady, as you say, was strict 
 enough in her own notions." 
 
 " So I have heard, madam. But when Mr. Stud- 
 ley found that out, he took his son away again. 
 Then he tried another way, and made him his own 
 bailiff; and I would he were so again," said the 
 old man, sighing. " But I doubt all that is over. 
 Kirton rules every thing on the place. It is owing 
 to him and his sister, I do believe, that my master 
 changed his mind about the Timber House." 
 
 "But I can t understand that," said I. "I 
 should think these people would rather have the 
 house to themselves." 
 
 " They mean to have the house to themselves," 
 answered Andrew with a meaning look. " And if 
 you take my advice, young madam, you will leave 
 the most of your things here in safe keeping, and 
 not carry them to Studley Hall, till you see how 
 the land lies." 
 
 " What is that you say ? " asked my husband, 
 entering at the moment. Andrew repeated his 
 words. 
 
 " Your counsel is good," said Mr. Studley. " I 
 think, Dolly, we will leave most of our baggage in 
 the hands of my good friend, Mr. Gifford the mer 
 chant." 
 
 "Very well," I answered. "I have all I .shall 
 need at present in the small mail that was brought 
 thither." 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 283 
 
 "But we must be riding, my love," said my 
 husband. " Andrew, will you see the horses 
 ready?" 
 
 We came in sight of Studley Court just as the 
 sun was setting, and I never saw a lovelier scene. 
 The old red brick house, shaded by great nut- 
 trees, was, as it were, nestled into a valley, or 
 glen, opening to the south-west toward the sea. A 
 clear, prattling stream crossed the garden not 
 very far from the house, and fell in a succession of 
 still pools and tinkling cascades toward the shore. 
 The garden showed careful cultivation in times 
 past, though some large weeds and many small 
 ones gave tokens of recent neglect. I saw my 
 husband shake his head when he looked at it. He 
 is very fond of a garden. The whole place was 
 bathed in warm, soft sunshine. The sea, at high 
 water, was making a gentle roar on the shore be 
 low, and the birds were singing softly in the trees. 
 It looked the very abode of peace. As we rode 
 into the courtyard, my father-in-law appeared on 
 the steps. He was a very handsome, stately old 
 man; but I did not like his face, which showed 
 traces of hard living and of a violent temper. 
 Perhaps I may have imagined a little, knowing 
 what I did of him beforehand. He welcomed me 
 with sufficient courtesy, and his son hardly with 
 civility, I thought. 
 
 "Well, Master Ned, I have stolen a march on 
 you," he said bluntly, yet with a kind of swagger, 
 I thought, as if he were somewhat ashamed of 
 
284 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 what he had to tell, but meant to carry it off with 
 a high hand. 
 
 " So I hear, sir," answered my husband. " I 
 wish you and your wife all happiness." 
 
 " Humph ! " answered the old gentleman, some 
 what disconcerted, as it seemed. " Mind, sir, you 
 are to treat my wife with respect. I will have no 
 airs from you or your wife either. Do you hear, 
 mistress ? " 
 
 I courtesied without answering. My former 
 experiences had taught me that " mum chance is a 
 safe game," as Sharpless used to say. 
 
 " Humph ! we mean to be discreet, I see," mut 
 tered the old gentleman ; then aloud, " Well, 
 well, you are a pretty creature, and look as if you 
 lacked not spirit, little as you are. Hast thou not 
 a kiss for thy old dad, child ? " 
 
 " That I am sure she has, sir," answered Edward 
 promptly. " I have brought you a loving and 
 dutiful daughter, father, who I hope and believe 
 will be a comfort to you." 
 
 My father-in-law seemed to soften at these words. 
 He gave Edward his hand, which he had not done 
 before, bade one of the serving-men carry up our 
 mails, and asked, in some surprise, if that were all. 
 
 " We left a part of our effects with Mr. Gifford, 
 in Biddeford, sir," answered Ned. " We did not 
 care to scare you with too much at once." 
 
 " Well, well, twas not ill-considered," said my 
 father-in-law, giving me his hand to lead me in ; 
 for we had stood all this while at the door, and 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 285 
 
 I had begun to wonder whether we were to be 
 allowed to enter at all. He conducted me to a 
 pretty, old-fashioned parlor, where sat his wife. 
 
 How shall I describe her? She was a large 
 woman, and very handsome in a way, with regular, 
 aquiline features* bold, round black eyes, very 
 wide open, and abundance of dark hair growing 
 well back from a rounded forehead, and a red and 
 white complexion which I thought might owe 
 something to the rouge-pot. She rose as we 
 entered, and treated us to a broad stare and a 
 swimming courtesy. It seemed to me that I had 
 seen her before, but I could not tell where. 
 
 " This is my son Edward, Rebecca, and this is 
 his bride. What am I to call you, child? " 
 
 "Dorothy, if you please, father," I answered, 
 " or Dolly, if you like it better." 
 
 I got a look from my husband which rewarded 
 me for all the pains the words cost me. The old 
 gentleman also looked well pleased, but I can t 
 say as much for Mrs. Studley. I felt from the 
 first moment as if she were an enemy, as if I were 
 in the presence of some fierce and treacherous 
 animal. 
 
 " You are welcome, Mrs. Edward Studley," she 
 said stiffly enough ; and then, turning to her hus 
 band, " I suppose the young lady will like to go 
 to her room before supper, which will be ready 
 directly." 
 
 I answered that I should be glad to do so. 
 
 "The blue room, Ned; you need no one to 
 
Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 show you the way," said his father. Accordingly 
 my husband led me up stairs, and along a gallery 
 to a tolerably comfortable chamber, not in the best 
 order, where a decent-looking old body was some 
 what hurriedly laying clean towels and the like. 
 She dropped whatever she had in her hand as we 
 came in, and burst out crying, saying in her broad 
 Devon dialect, " O Master Ned, Master Ned, what 
 a home-coming is here ! what a home-coming is 
 here for you, my lamb ! " 
 
 " Hush, hush, Janey ! " said my husband, shak 
 ing hands with her. "Do you greet my bride 
 with tears ? That is not a good omen. Dolly, this 
 is my old nurse and friend. Come, Janey, shake 
 hands, and wish her joy." 
 
 " And so I do with all my heart, the dear, tender 
 little lamb, and God bless her into the bargain ! 
 But what a house is this to bring a young lady 
 into ! " 
 
 " It is indeed a very different house from what 
 I expected," said my husband; "but we must 
 make the best, Janey." 
 
 "Best! there is no best, with that witch and 
 wizard who have cast their spells on my poor old 
 master ! " said Janey. And then in a lower, awe 
 struck tone, " You need not tell me they are 
 right Christian folk ; no, not they ! " 
 
 " Hush, Janey, I cannot hear you speak so of 
 my father s wife," said Edward ; " that is not 
 right. Come, help your young mistress to take 
 off her riding gear, and get ready for supper." 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 287 
 
 " Ay, that will I," said the old woman. She 
 performed her office deftly enough, with abundance 
 of " poor dears" and " tender lambs," and such 
 like phrases. When we were about to leave the 
 room, she laid a trembling, withered hand on my 
 husband s arm, 
 
 " Don t let her get a hold on thee, don t, now, 
 Master Neddy," she whispered. " I tell e she 
 bain t right. There s them has seen mun in other 
 forms than mun wears now, and in strange places. 
 And it bain t for nought that the white owl has 
 whooped and screamed every night since she came 
 hither. No, no, the white owl doesn t screech like 
 that for nought, though you make light o mun, 
 Master Neddy. But oh, have a care ! I have 
 put a branch of rowan over your bed, and a four- 
 leaved clover under every threshold, so she can 
 work no harm here. But oh, have a care, my 
 lambs, and be sure to taste bread and salt the first 
 thing ! " 
 
 I must confess I was silly enough to observe 
 this precaution against witchcraft, when we sat 
 down to supper. At the table we were introduced 
 to Dr. Kirton, a cunning, plausible sort of man, 
 who was rather obtrusively civil in his manners, 
 and to whom I took a huge dislike on the instant. 
 
 My husband had brought his father some fine 
 tobacco, and a pretty box full of snuff. The old 
 gentleman received them with satisfaction, and 
 seemed inclined to be more friendly than at first ; 
 asking Ned about one old acquaintance and an- 
 
288 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 other, and telling him about the cattle and horses, 
 especially a fine blood mare he had bought for my 
 riding. Then turning to me, he asked me if I 
 were a good horsewoman. 
 
 "Only passable, sir," I answered. "I never 
 rode at all till last winter ; but my uncle has taken 
 great pains to teach me, and, if you will do the 
 same, I hope you will find me an apt scholar." 
 
 " Indeed, sir, Dolly is a very good horsewoman, 
 considering," said Edward. " She is very fear 
 less, and that is half the battle, you know." 
 
 " So it is, so it is," replied the old gentleman. 
 u But how happened it that you never learned 
 before last winter, chick ? " 
 
 " Because I never had a chance, sir," I answered. 
 "I have been in my uncle s family not quite a 
 year. Before that I lived in London. We only 
 came down to Devon about Christmas-tide." 
 
 "In London, eh? I did not think I was to have 
 a fine London lady for a daughter ; but you don t 
 look like a Londoner! eh, Rebecca?" addressing 
 the lady at the head of the table, who had stiff 
 ened more and more, the more her husband re 
 laxed. 
 
 " I know nothing of the matter," she answered 
 tartly. "I never was in London in my life, and 
 never wish to be." 
 
 "If I have not seen you there I am as much 
 mistaken as ever I was," I said to myself. The 
 more I looked at her, the more sure I was that I 
 had seen her before. 
 
Mrs. Studley B Diary. 289 
 
 " "Well, well ! I should have taken you for Devon 
 born, and North Devon at that," said my father 
 in-law. " Who is she so like, Rowson ? " 
 
 The remark was addressed to the vicar of the 
 parish, a heavy, good-natured looking man, who 
 had come in after we sat down, and been intro 
 duced as Mr. Rowson. He looked, I must say, 
 any thing but a reverend priest, and yet I took a 
 certain liking to him from the first. 
 
 " Mrs. Edward Studley is very much like the 
 Corbet family," answered the vicar, with a polite 
 little bow. " I should almost say she belonged to 
 them." 
 
 " I suppose I do," I answered. " My father s 
 name was Corbet, and he and my mother were 
 somewhat akin. After my mother s death I lived 
 in the family of Sir Charles Corbet, my father s 
 cousin." 
 
 "Ay, I remember now," said Mr. Studley. 
 " But Sir Charles died some years ago, did he 
 not?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. After his death I remained with his 
 widow, till my aunt found me out and adopted 
 me." 
 
 "Well, well ! thou art a pretty bird, but of the 
 least." 
 
 " 4 Good gear goes in little bulk, I have heard 
 say, sir," I answered, whereat he laughed and 
 seemed pleased. But the more pleased he appeared, 
 the blacker grew my lady s brow. She was evi 
 dently jealous already. When supper was over, 
 
290 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 my husband asked to be excused, saying that he 
 had a headache. 
 
 " Ay, I know of old there is no good-fellowship 
 to be had of thee," said his father grumblingly ; 
 and then, more gently, "But thou art a young 
 bridegroom, and would rather toy with thy pretty 
 pussy than drink the best wine that ever flowed. 
 Go along, then." 
 
 He actually rose to open the door for me, when 
 his lady pushed past me and left the room first. 
 It was certainly a very discourteous action for a 
 lady in her own house, and I saw my husband s 
 face flush at it; but I did not care. I did not 
 believe I should long have to live with her. 
 
 We stopped a moment at the hall-door, while 
 Edward pointed out to me some object in the 
 landscape ; and when we reached the parlor it was 
 empty. There was a pretty harpsichon in the 
 room, which Edward opened and invited me to 
 try. 
 
 "It was my mother s instrument, and for her 
 sake I have kept it in tune," said he. " She was 
 a great lover of music, and a good performer." 
 
 "It is from her that you get your music," I 
 remarked. 
 
 " It is from her that I get any good which is in 
 me," replied my husband, with a sigh. "I be 
 lieve I first liked you because something in your 
 looks reminded me of her. And to see that " 
 
 " Patience," said I, as he checked himself; "pa 
 tience is our only game just now, Edward." 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 291 
 
 "You are right," he answered. "Play some 
 thing, and soothe my spirits, Dolly." 
 
 " 4 Music hath charms to soothe the savage 
 breast, " said I, as I sat down ; "and you are not 
 savage, only disturbed and distressed, and no 
 wonder. Now, take that arm-chair, and listen 
 and compose your spirits." 
 
 I played one or two lessons, and then began to 
 sing Mr. Shakspeare s Song of the Lark, which 
 was always a great favorite of mine. When I 
 had finished, I was rewarded by a clapping of 
 hands ; and, turning round, I saw my father-in-law 
 and the chaplain, who had come in so quietly I 
 had not known of their presence. * 
 
 "Well done," said my father-in-law. "Why, 
 you are a lark yourself. We don t hear singing 
 like that every day, eh, Rowson?" 
 
 " I have not heard the like since I was in Italy," 
 answered the chaplain. " Will not the young 
 lady sing something else ? " 
 
 I obeyed, and sang two or three songs, to the 
 last of which Mr. Rowson volunteered a bass. 
 He had a fine voice, though somewhat the worse 
 for wine, and a cultivated manner. When we 
 had finished, he said, with real feeling and cour 
 tesy, 
 
 " This is a pleasure indeed. I did not expect 
 such a feast." 
 
 " Ay, Rowson is like any other donkey, he likes 
 his ears tickled," said Mr. Studley, laughing. 
 " You will hear good singing in his church, if not 
 
292 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 much else. But, indeed, you have given us all 
 pleasure, eh, my dear ? " turning to his wife, who 
 only tossed her head, and said something about 
 not being a judge. I concluded I had done 
 enough, and rose from the instrument. I sup 
 posed we should have prayers, as the chaplain was 
 present, but no such thing took place. When we 
 had retired to our room, I found I had dropped 
 my handkerchief, and ran down to look for it. I 
 paused, however, at the parlor door, hearing voices 
 within ; and while I was hesitating I caught the 
 words, 
 
 " Making herself at home a London fine lady 
 to iSok down on me, and insult me with her airs." 
 
 " Tut, tut ! I saw no airs, nor insults either," 
 said my father-in-law. " Don t be a goose, Becky." 
 
 " Becky ! " I exclaimed aloud. It all came to 
 me in a minute. 
 
 " Eh, what s that ? " said my father-in-law, open 
 ing wide the door, which was already ajar. 
 "What do you want, child, and who are you 
 calling Becky ? " 
 
 " Nobody, sir," I answered. " I heard the 
 name, and was struck with it, as I never heard 
 it but once before." 
 
 " And where was that ? " asked he, rather 
 sharply. 
 
 " In London, sir," I answered ; and then, to 
 divert him, I asked if he had seen my handker 
 chief. He began to look for it, while my lady 
 stood by, regarding us with no friendly glances. 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 293 
 
 " Here it is," said I, unearthing it from a pile 
 of music-books. "Thank you, father, and good 
 night." 
 
 " The riddle is read," said I, as I rejoined my 
 husband. " I knew I had seen her before." 
 
 " Where ? " asked Edward. 
 
 " At the theatre in London," I answered. " I 
 have seen her twenty times. It is Becky Mar 
 shall the actress, the one poor Mr. Baxter tried 
 in vain to rescue. She had a sister younger than 
 herself, both well brought up, but I never heard 
 of any brother. But if she is not Becky Marshall 
 I will eat her." 
 
 " I would not like you to do that," said my hus 
 band, who is always taking me up about what he 
 calls my intemperate ejaculations, " She might 
 not agree with you. But are you sure, Dolly ? " 
 
 " As sure as I am of you," I answered. " I have 
 often seen her, for my aunt was a great play-goer, 
 and always took one of us with her. I heard this 
 woman had left the stage." 
 
 " Well, well ; we can do nothing now, that I 
 see," said my husband. " To think, Dolly, that 
 I, of all people, should have brought you into such 
 associations ! " 
 
 " You could not help it, seeing you knew noth 
 ing of them," I answered. " But where did you? 
 father meet these people ? 
 
 "At Bristol, whither he went to drink the 
 waters of St. Vincent s well. There he was taken 
 very ill ; and Kirton cured him, or so he thought. 
 
294 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 He has known the brother for a year, bat it is 
 only a few weeks since he met the sister. I saw 
 Gifford was full of stories about her ; but, with all 
 his good qualities, he is a bit of a scandal-monger, 
 and I gave him no encouragement. But come, 
 Dolly, let us take our reading and prayers, and 
 go to rest. To-morrow is a new day, and may 
 bring better counsel. I shall try to prevail on my 
 father to go back to the first plan, and let us have 
 the timbered house. If not, we must see what 
 else we can do, for I will not have you living with 
 this woman." 
 
 The next day was Saturday. Janey had not 
 failed to remark on the fact that we had arrived 
 on a Friday, as boding ill luck. My father-in-law 
 was evidently in a worse humor than the night 
 before ; and as to my lady, she hardly troubled her 
 self to be civil. We did not meet till dinner-time, 
 when Mr. Studley grumbled over the pie, and 
 scolded because the beef was overroasted, saying 
 he had not put a decent morsel into his mouth 
 since the new cook had come. My lady promised 
 to see to the cooking herself, and seemed trying to 
 conciliate her husband, while she was any thing 
 but polite to Edward or me. 
 
 " And you, child, I suppose you don t know the 
 neck of a goose from the rump," said my father- 
 in-law, turning to me. 
 
 " Of course not," said his wife. " Fine London 
 ladies don t study cooking." 
 
 "But I am not a fine London lady, madam ; and, 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 295 
 
 as it happens, I am a bit of a cook," said I, will 
 ing for my husband s sake to conciliate her. " My 
 mother and my aunt both thought the government 
 of a household a very important part of a young 
 lady s education." 
 
 " And they were right," said my father-in-law, 
 with an oath. u What matters it what else a 
 woman knows if she can t make her husband com 
 fortable ? " 
 
 Nobody made any answer to this question, and 
 the meal went on. After dinner, Mr. Studley 
 announced his intention of riding to look at some 
 outlying land. 
 
 " I will ride with you if you will permit me, sir," 
 said Edward. 
 
 " What ! and leave your bride alone a whole 
 afternoon. You are not weary of her already, are 
 you?" 
 
 " Hardly, sir," answered Edward, smiling ; " and 
 I do not mean she should weary of me, as I fear 
 she would if I were tied to her apron-string." 
 
 " Humph ! Well, then, if you are suffering for 
 exercise, I wish you would go over and see Master 
 Atkins. Tell him I will let -him have the two 
 heifers at his own price, if he will come for them. 
 The land hath more stock than it can carry. Tell 
 Tom to put the side-saddle on the black mare, and 
 carry your wife with you." 
 
 It was evidently an excuse for putting off, or 
 getting rid of, a private interview. My husband 
 looked disappointed, but made the best of the 
 matter. 
 
296 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " Would you like to go, Dolly ? " he asked. " It 
 is a pleasant ride ; and the old folk are friends of 
 mine, and will be glad to see you." 
 
 I professed my willingness, and we were soon 
 on our way. The day was lovely, with a fresh 
 breeze blowing, and sending the white-caps into 
 the little bay, and the larks were singing over 
 head. I should have enjoyed the ride beyond 
 any thing, only that my husband was so sad and 
 distraught. 
 
 " Eh, what ? " said he, after I had spoken to 
 him twice without getting any reply. " I beg 
 your pardon, Dolly. I am very bad company, I 
 know ; but I am so troubled and perplexed I know 
 not what to do, nor which way to turn." 
 
 "And therefore you cannot turn any way," I 
 answered. " You must just wait till the fog lifts, 
 and shows you your road." 
 
 " And meantime the boat may drift on the 
 breakers, or the traveller be mired in the bog," 
 said he. 
 
 " Not if the boat be anchored, and the traveller 
 sit still," I answered. " Where is your faith, 
 Edward ? Have you not taught me that God is 
 our Father, and that he will make all things work 
 together for good to them that love him ? Can we 
 not trust ourselves in his hands ? " 
 
 " You are right, and I am wrong, my dear," 
 said my husband. " I fear I am very faithless." 
 
 " No, you are not faithless any more than Abra 
 ham was," I answered. " You are failing in your 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 297 
 
 strong point just as he did. Don t you know that 
 fortresses are almost always taken on their strong 
 side? Only don t make Abraham s mistake by 
 taking matters into your own hands. You know 
 the trouble he prepared for himself by that step, 
 because he could not wait for God to bestow 
 the blessing he had promised." 
 
 " I don t know that I ever thought of it in just 
 that way, but I believe you are right," said Ed 
 ward. " You have read your Old Testament to 
 purpose, Dolly." 
 
 " It is one of the few things I have to thank my 
 old mistress for," I answered. "She made me 
 read it from end to end every year. Is this the 
 farm where we are to stop ? " 
 
 " Yes. They will make you very welcome, 
 Dolly, and they are good people too." 
 
 We found the dame busy with her knitting in 
 the sunny porch of the old timbered house, and 
 received such a hearty welcome that we were 
 almost overwhelmed with it. A rosy-faced old 
 man took our horses, and an equally rosy-faced lad 
 was sent to find Master Atkins ; while the dame 
 conducted us into her clean, wide kitchen, where 
 a little wood-fire still smouldered on the hearth. 
 Here we must eat and drink the first minute, of 
 course ; and we were ensconced in two arm-chairs, 
 while the dame and her pretty, comely daughter- 
 in-law bustled about, covering one end of the 
 great table with a snowy, homespun cloth, and 
 bringing out clotted cream and cheese-cakes and 
 
298 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 spice-bread, and I know not what else. Edward 
 asked after her son. 
 
 " Oh, he is away to the Levant ! He must 
 take to the sea, like his grandfather and father 
 before him," answered the dame, smiling and 
 sighing at once. " He has got the salt drop in 
 num s blood, like every Lee and Atkins as 
 never was born, I think. And Will, he s away 
 to America, and has taken his wife with him 
 to visit her kindred : so Patience and me, we 
 be left alone as it were. But have you heard, 
 Master Ned, that my husband s cousin, Ezechel 
 Atkins, at Applecoombe, wants to sell out and 
 go to America ? " 
 
 " I have heard no news at all, dame, since I 
 came home only yesterday. But why does Ezechel 
 sell ? I thought he had one of the nicest places 
 in all North Devon." 
 
 " So he has, so he has. But you know his 
 brother is in New England already, and Zechel 
 hath a great family, twelve lads, no less, and four 
 maidens ; and Zechel thinks there will be more 
 room for his lads over there." 
 
 " And he is right, Master Ned," said the master 
 of the house, entering in time to hear his wife s 
 last words. " Welcome home, sir, and much joy 
 befall you and your bride." 
 
 Master Atkins was a tall, spare man, with black 
 curly hair a good deal grizzled, and splendid 
 white teeth. He was very polite and even pol 
 ished in his way. I learned afterward that he 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 299 
 
 had been an officer in the navy, but had retired 
 and taken to farming. 
 
 " And so you think your cousin Zechel is mak 
 ing a wise move," said my husband, as we sat 
 down to the table. 
 
 " I do, sir ; though if it were my case I should 
 go not to New England, but to New Jersey, where 
 land is quite as good and the climate not so severe. 
 But Zechel s brother is settled in New England, 
 and doing well, and doubtless that is a strong 
 reason for their choice." 
 
 " I have a friend in New Jersey. Is that very 
 far from where your cousin is going?" said I. "I 
 would like to send her a little parcel." 
 
 Master Lee smiled. " There is almost, if not 
 quite, the length of England between the two 
 places," said he. " Folk hereabout do not under 
 stand the size of things over there. But I make 
 no doubt my cousin will take your parcel, madam. 
 He may easily find a chance to send it, for there is 
 a great deal of trade going on." 
 
 "But what will Zechel Atkins do with his 
 farm ? " asked my husband. " His lease must 
 have a long time to run yet." 
 
 " Sixty years," answered our host. " Zechel 
 would gladly sell stock and fixtures, and the most 
 of his furniture, if he could get his price." 
 
 " And that is " 
 
 " Two hundred and fifty pounds, but I doubt not 
 he would take two hundred if he had the money 
 in hand. The farm is well stocked, and hath the 
 finest orchard in the country." 
 
300 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 The talk then drifted away to other matters. I 
 observed the beauty of the china bowl which held 
 the clotted cream, and of some other pieces ; and 
 the dame must needs show me her china closet, 
 which would have made many a fine lady wild 
 with envy. I particularly admired a little black 
 and gold coffee-pot, and nothing would do but 
 she must bestow it on me for a wedding gift, as she 
 said, as well as a lace kerchief which she told me 
 she had made herself when a maid at school. 
 Then we must go out and see the garden, the 
 poultry yard, and the noble orchard : so it was on 
 toward sunset before we got away. 
 
 We found supper ready when we arrived at 
 the Hall. My father-in-law was evidently in a 
 worse humor than in the morning, and received 
 Edward s report of his errand with only a 
 " humph." The parson was at the table, as 
 usual, but there was no pretence of grace said. 
 Madam sat at the head of the table, dressed out 
 in all her finery; and, as we took our places, she 
 shot a glance at us wherein I read triumphant 
 malice. She had evidently been using her time 
 well. 
 
 Mr. Studley drank plenty of strong ale with his 
 supper, and called for wine afterward. My hus 
 band took one or two glasses, and then declined 
 more. His father called him a white-livered milk 
 sop, and turned to the parson, 
 
 " You are a man, at any rate, Rowson. You are 
 not afraid of your brains, like my sanctimonious 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 301 
 
 son. We will finish the bottle and another before 
 we part." 
 
 " Not to-night, sir," answered Mr. Rowson. " To 
 morrow is Sacrament Sunday, and I must not drink 
 deep to-night, lest I get the bishop down on me 
 again." 
 
 My father-in-law cursed the Sacrament, using 
 terms which made my blood run cold. In all my 
 life I had never heard such blasphemy. Involun 
 tarily I laid my hand on his arm. 
 
 " Dear sir, don t speak so," said I. " Think of 
 what you are speaking, of the Holy Communion." 
 
 He shook off my hand, and stared at me with a 
 look of fury. 
 
 " What, you, you ! " he stammered. " Has he 
 made a sanctified humbug of you already ? " 
 
 "I told you you would have enough of my 
 lady s airs," remarked his wife with a sneer. 
 " Fine doings, indeed ! a young woman rebuking 
 her father-in-law at his own table." 
 
 "And you, sir, you have put this chit up to 
 beard me, have you ? " roared Mr. Studley, turning 
 to his son. 
 
 " Do not be so angry, Mr. Studley," interposed 
 Dr. Kirton, in his smooth, oily tones. He had a 
 habit of putting his head on one side when he 
 spoke, which would have set me against him if 
 nothing else did. "I am sure Mr. Edward will 
 make his wife beg your pardon." 
 
 " I pray you, Dr. Kirton, not to interfere between 
 my father and myself," said my husband, speaking 
 
302 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 quite calmly, though I saw by his paleness how 
 much he was moved. " I see nothing in my 
 wife s words for which she need to ask pardon." 
 
 " Of course not," said Mrs. Studley tauntingly. 
 " She has a right to insult your father at his own 
 table, and to call his wife an actress and I know 
 not what else. Oh, yes, you may stare, madam, 
 but I can tell you stone walls have ears. A pretty 
 way, to be sure ! " 
 
 With that Mr. Studley exploded in a new fury. 
 In all my life I never saw any thing like it. There 
 was no opprobrious epithet which he did not heap 
 upon his son, and I think no demon from the lower 
 regions could have beat him in the blasphemous 
 language with which he assailed religion in all its 
 forms. I looked at the parson, expecting him to 
 show some displeasure ; but though he looked 
 annoyed, as a man might at an interruption to his 
 pleasure, he never moved. Dr. Kirton put in a 
 word now and then, artfully calculated to increase 
 his patron s anger ; while his sister made no attempt 
 to conceal her satisfaction. As for Edward, he 
 never said one word, till his father applied to me 
 an epithet too vile to be recorded here. Then he 
 rose from the table with flashing eyes. 
 
 " Come, Dolly, this is no place for you," was all 
 he said. I rose and put my hand through his 
 arm. 
 
 " Ay, go, and never let me see thy craven face 
 again ! " roared the old man. " Begone from my 
 house ! I have tried in vain to make a man of 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 303 
 
 thee. Begone, and beg or starve, as pleases thee 
 best, and take thy father s curse with thee." 
 
 " Curses are like young chickens : they always 
 come home to roost," said Edward solemnly. 
 " Heaven grant that it may not be so with yours, 
 sir ! Come, my wife." 
 
 My lady gave an insolent laugh as we left the 
 dining-room. It soon appeared that the old man 
 was in earnest. We had been in our room but a 
 few minutes when Mr. Rowson came to the door. 
 
 " You had best be gone, Ned," said he. " The 
 old man grows worse and worse, and vows you 
 shall not stay in the house to-night ; and that witch 
 pushes him on. I have ordered your horses to the 
 door, and Andrew will attend you." 
 
 "But where to go? "said my husband. u We 
 cannot spend the night on the moor. Cannot you 
 take us in ? " 
 
 The parson looked perplexed. " I would," said 
 he, " but my house is no place for a lady ; and 
 beside Well, the truth is, Ned, I owe your 
 father money, and I can t afford to displease him." 
 
 " We will not trouble you," said my husband, 
 " The man who will not stand up for his Lord and 
 Master will hardly do much for his friend." 
 
 " Nay, but do hear reason," said the poor parson, 
 in a strait between his kindness and his cowardice. 
 " Let us think a moment." 
 
 "Why should we not go to Master Atkins, 
 where we were this afternoon ? " said I. " Surely 
 those good people will take us in over Sunday." 
 
304 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 "A good thought," said my husband, "if the 
 ride will not be too much for you." 
 
 "Nay, tis only six miles," said the parson. 
 "She deserves some trouble for blowing up all 
 this storm. Why could she not hold her tongue ? 
 But women must always be meddling." 
 
 " I will hear not one word against my wife," 
 returned my husband sternly. "She did but what 
 any Christian should, what you yourself should 
 have done, and not have left your Master s de 
 fence to a girl." 
 
 " What use in talking to an angry man ? " said 
 the parson, coloring; "but I bear no malice. 
 Here comes Andrew for your mails. Go down 
 the back way, and I will try to keep the old man 
 engaged." So saying, he disappeared. 
 
 "And that man," began my husband; but I 
 begged him to be quiet and let us get away. In 
 truth, I was terribly scared, and wanted nothing 
 so much as to be out of the house. We were not 
 to escape scot free, however. The poor old man 
 followed us to the door, and dismissed us with a 
 volley of execrations, 1 swearing by all that was 
 holy we should never see a penny of his money. 
 
 " I value not your oath, sir, since you swear by 
 what you yourself do not believe in," said Edward, 
 turning as we were about leaving the courtyard. 
 " It grieves me to part from you in anger. I have 
 
 1 This is no fiction. Mr. Studley is a real historical person 
 age, and \vas turned out of his father s house in just the same 
 way, for the same cause. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 305 
 
 borne much from you in times past. I entreat 
 you to remember, that, deny God s word as you 
 may, it is not the less true ; and that, so surely as 
 you live, you must one day stand before him, to 
 give account of deeds done in the body. I call 
 you yourself to witness that T have been to you a 
 submissive and dutiful son; and I am willing to be 
 so again, so soon as you shall see fit to recall 
 me. Come, Dolly." 
 
 As we rode out of the courtyard, we heard the 
 old man s wrath exploding in execrations; and I 
 caught sight of the woman laying her hand on his 
 arm, as though scared at the storm she had her 
 self provoked. I never saw her in life again, but 
 once. 
 
 " We must ride fast, my love," said my hus 
 band. " It is growing late." 
 
 This was all he said during our ride, except 
 a word, of warning or encouragement now and 
 then. Fortunately, it was a fine evening, and a 
 half-moon gave % us plenty of light. How glad I 
 was that we had taken no luggage with us but 
 our pillion mails, and one small mail that Andrew 
 could carry easily behind him ! 
 
 It was near ten o clock when we reached the 
 farm ; but there was a light in the kitchen, and 
 Master Atkins was standing in the porch, smok 
 ing his pipe. Pie uttered an exclamation of wan 
 der on seeing us again, as well he might, and 
 hastened to take me down from my horse. 
 
 " Will you take us in for the night, my friend?" 
 
306 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 asked my husband. " I have literally no shelter 
 for my head or that of my poor young wife." 
 
 " Take you in ! Ay, that I will, and more 
 than welcome," answered Master Atkins. "What, 
 the old gentleman is in his tantrums again ! " 
 Then, as Edward nodded, " Come in, come in. 
 Come, madam. Janey, here is Master Edward 
 and his lady come to stay all night with us." 
 
 I cannot think without grateful tears, even 
 now, of the warmth and delicacy with which 
 these excellent people welcomed us. The fire was 
 blown up, and a couple of rosy maids sent in half 
 a dozen different ways; while the dame herself 
 would wait on me, take off my riding-gear, and 
 smooth my hair. I was worn out with fatigue and 
 excitement, and the dame s motherly care was too 
 much for my self-control : I burst into a flood of 
 tears, and sobbed so convulsively that my husband 
 was alarmed. 
 
 " There, don t e mind, don t e mind," said the 
 dame soothingly. " She will be all the better, 
 poor lamb. Bring some wine, Patience. There, 
 drink this, my pretty. Hush, hush, nothing shall 
 harm thee. There, see, thou art better already." 
 
 " I am very silly," said I, making a great effort 
 to control myself; "but I am not used to riding 
 so far, and I am so tired." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, poor tender soul ! Bed is the best 
 place for thee, and it is all ready. Come now, let 
 me undress thee, and don t grieve too much. All 
 will be well." 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 307 
 
 With the greatest kindness she helped me to 
 undress, and as soon as I was in bed brought me a 
 warm drink to keep me from taking cold. All 
 this time neither she nor her husband had asked a 
 single question. As she bade me good-night, I 
 held her hand for a moment. 
 
 " You must not think, dame, that iny husband 
 has done any thing wrong." 
 
 " I know, I know," she answered. " Bless 
 you, my dear, every one knows the old squire ! 
 Master Edward has been the wonder of the 
 country for his patience and dutifulness to the 
 old man. There, sleep, my tender, and all will 
 be well." 
 
 The next morning I was waked early by the 
 singing of the birds, the crowing of the cocks, and 
 other farmyard noises. I could hear sounds of 
 movement below, but all quiet and subdued. I 
 was bewildered at first, and could hardly tell 
 where I was. The room was far more comfortable, 
 I must say, than that we had occupied at Studley 
 Hall. The bed-linen was snowy white, and smelled 
 of lavender. The curtains and counterpane were 
 of India chintz, and a fine Turkish rug lay before 
 the bed, odd things, I thought, to find in a 
 farmhouse in North Devon. But I remembered 
 that the master of the house had been a seafaring 
 man, which probably accounted for all these lux 
 uries. While I was studying the patterns on the 
 hangings, I fell asleep, and did not wake till my 
 husband called ine. 
 
308 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 "Are you rested, Dolly? Do you feel like 
 going to church ? It is not a long walk." 
 
 " I should like to go, of all things," I answered ; 
 " but, Edward, how can you endure to see that man 
 in the desk, and breaking the consecrated bread ? " 
 
 " What, Rowson ? Oh, we are not in his par 
 ish!" answered Edward; "and if we were, you 
 know, love, the unworthiness of the priest hinder- 
 eth not the efficacy of the sacraments. But this 
 is quite a different person, as you will see. I think 
 we shall both be better for the worship, and we 
 will try to put aside all our cares till to-morrow. 
 4 This is the day the Lord hath made ; we will 
 rejoice and be glad in it. " 
 
 We broke our fast, and then walked with our 
 host and his family to the little church, the tower 
 of which I had seen from my window. It was 
 very small and very old, built of the moor-stone, 
 and almost shrouded in great leaved ivy; but 
 there was a beautiful carved oak chancel screen, 
 almost black with age, and I saw with pleasure 
 how fair and white were the altar-linen and the 
 surplice. The vicar was an old man, of almost 
 rustical plainness of speech and manner ; but he 
 gave us an excellent, practical discourse, suitable 
 to the day, and administered the communion with 
 great reverence and decency. I was rather sur 
 prised to see how many communicants there were 
 in proportion to the size of the parish, and re 
 marked upon the matter to Master Atkins as we 
 were walking homeward. 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 309 
 
 " Yes, our parson has done a great deal for the 
 parish," he answered. " Twas but a godless place 
 when he came here, for the last incumbent was 
 much such another as him over yonder at Studley, 
 only worse. But we got rid of him at last. Mr. 
 Dean is a Devon man born and bred, and knows 
 how to deal with the people. The worst man in 
 the parish will pull off his hat to him, and I have 
 known him to go single-handed and unarmed into 
 a den of deer-stealers and broken men, break up 
 their assembly, and persuade them from some law 
 less deed, by the sheer force of his presence and 
 speech. I would the old squire had him to deal 
 with. He would find it a different matter, I 
 trow." 
 
 " I hope so," I answered. " I was disgusted to 
 see Mr. Rowson sit by and say not a word, while 
 every thing that he ought to have held sacred was 
 blasphemed and profaned." 
 
 " Ay, that is Mr. Rowson all over. But he hath 
 been a free liver, and I fancy the old squire hath 
 some hold over him. The borrower is servant to 
 the lender, you know, madam." 
 
 " Well, I do wonder how my husband ever lived 
 with his father so long," I said, rather incautious 
 ly, perhaps. 
 
 " And so do many more, madam ; but in spite of 
 his pretending to despise his son, the old gentle 
 man has always greatly depended on Master Ned 
 in business matters. Only for that I believe your 
 husband would have made himself independent 
 
310 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 long ago. I fear the poor old man hath got 
 into bad hands enough, and that Master Ned will 
 suffer by it." 
 
 We went to evening service, and heard the 
 school-children catechized ; and I was much pleased 
 by the way in which Mr. Dean explained the Com 
 mandments, not descending to any trivialities, but 
 making his matter so plain that the youngest child 
 could carry away something thereof. Master At 
 kins told us the rector took great interest in the 
 school, which had an excellent woman for a dame, 
 and that even the Dissenters in the parish sent 
 their children to her. I thought within myself 
 that I would make a little treat for the children, 
 and then remembered, with a pang, that I was not 
 likely to have money for any such purpose. How 
 ever, I reflected that I had among my things a 
 great roll of silk pieces which I had collected for 
 m}^ patchwork, and I could at least make some 
 work-bags and needle-books for the little maidens. 
 I suppose it was childish in me, but somehow this 
 little plan for giving pleasure to others seemed to 
 lighten up my spirits amazingly. 
 
 The next morning, my husband called me into 
 our bedroom from the dairy, where I was diligently 
 learning the true Devon way of making a junket. 
 
 " I am sorry to interrupt the process of your 
 education, Dolly, but we must needs consider our 
 ways and means. What are we to do to live ? " 
 
 " I suppose there is no use in expecting any 
 thing from your father," said I. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 311 
 
 "No use at all, while he is in such hands. I 
 have never been a favorite with him, but I did 
 think he would have kept his promise when he 
 agreed to give me a house and an income of mine 
 own. I never would have brought you hither 
 else." 
 
 " Then I am glad you were mistaken," I an 
 swered ; " for I would not be anywhere else for 
 the world." 
 
 " Truly ? " asked my husband, with a bright 
 look. 
 
 " Truly," I answered. " I can frankly say, Ned, 
 that I would rather live in a cob hut with you, 
 than in a palace with any one else." 
 
 Here occurred an interruption to the discourse 
 which I need not set down. But how glad I was 
 that I could in all honesty say as much ! 
 
 " But we must think what we are going to do," 
 continued my husband. " If we had only any 
 capital to start with, I would take Zechel Atkins s 
 farm off his hands. I have no fear but I could 
 manage it, and make eventually a good thing of 
 it ; though it would mean hard fare for a few years, 
 and harder work than these tender little hands are 
 used to." 
 
 " Never mind the tender little hands," said I. 
 " They have more strength than you think for, and 
 what I don t know I can learn." 
 
 "But Master Zechel wants his money down, 
 that he may have something more to start on," 
 continued my husband ; "and beside that, I would 
 
312 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 not at any rate like to begin with a millstone of 
 debt round my neck ; nor can I well apply to your 
 uncle. He hath done a good deal for us; and 
 beside that, I know that he has lost enough of late 
 seriously to embarrass him. Have you any money, 
 Dolly ? " 
 
 " I have ten pounds," said I. 
 
 "And I have twenty. So we have at least 
 thirty pounds between us and starvation." 
 
 At this moment a thought struck me which 
 made me jump up in a hurry. My husband looked 
 on with surprise as I brought out my trinket-box 
 from my mail, and began turning over its con 
 tents. At last I found what I wanted. It was 
 the little golden egg which my poor cousin, Sir 
 Charles, had given me on his death-bed. 
 
 "What is it?" said Ned, as I put it into his 
 hands. I told him its history. 
 
 " And you have never opened it," said he, turn 
 ing it over. " Who shall say that women have no 
 curiosity?" 
 
 " Nobody need say so about me, because I have 
 a great deal," said I ; " so much, that I want you 
 to open my egg directly, that I may see what is in 
 it. I don t think it will be any infraction of my 
 promise to open it now, for surely we are in a strait, 
 if people ever were. Only, don t break the locket 
 if you can help. Who knows but it may be like 
 the golden egg, which the fairy gave to the wander 
 ing princess in the story, and contain a talisman 
 which shall help us out of all our troubles ? " 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 313 
 
 " There is no need of breaking the locket," said 
 my husband, examining it with attention. " I see 
 how it opens." He pressed the spring as he 
 spoke. The egg parted in the middle, and out 
 dropped two little parcels, carefully wrapped in 
 silver paper, and a small, folded note. 
 
 " What have we here ? " said my husband. 
 
 We each opened one of the little parcels, and 
 were fairly dazzled by the splendor of the jewels 
 they contained. 
 
 " Lady Jem s diamond ear-rings ! " I exclaimed, 
 " the very same that are in her portrait by Lely. 
 My mistress always wondered what had become of 
 them. I little thought I had them in my posses 
 sion all the time." 
 
 "But what is this?" said my husband, opening 
 the folded paper. It was a note in Sir Charles s 
 handwriting, saying that he gave the enclosed 
 jewels, which were his own private property, to 
 his dear cousin, Mrs. Dorothy Corbet, to be kept 
 by her till after her marriage, and then either 
 worn or used by her in any way she should think 
 proper. The note was signed by Sir Charles, and 
 attested by the names of Dr. Clarke his physician, 
 and Richards his confidential servant. 
 
 " That was very thoughtful of your cousin," said 
 Ned. " Do you know these witnesses ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! Dr. Clarke is court physician, and 
 always attended my mistress ; and after his mas 
 ter s death, Richards married, and lias a shop for 
 gloves and perfumes in Westminster Hall. I car- 
 
314 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 ried my aunt thither, and she bought a great deal 
 of him. But how much, think you, the jewels are 
 worth, Ned?" 
 
 " More than fifty pounds apiece, if I am any 
 judge of such matters," answered my husband. 
 " My good friend, Master GifYord of Biddeford, 
 will, however, have a juster notion of them, having 
 handled many such matters in his day. We will 
 go thither to-morrow, and stop on our way home, 
 that you may see Applecoombe for yourself; 
 that is, if you are minded to sacrifice your splendid 
 ear-rings." 
 
 " It will be no great sacrifice," I answered. " I 
 never had any fondness for trinkets ; and I am 
 sure these will do me more good put into a home, 
 than dangling from my ears, specially out here 
 in North Devon. Only I will keep the locket, if 
 you please, in memory of my kind cousin." 
 
 "But, Dolly, have you thought what all this 
 means for you ? " asked my husband. " Do you 
 understand that it means hard work and plain 
 fare and the rank of a farmer s dame? What 
 would your aunt say ? " 
 
 " I shall not ask her," said I. " What is the 
 use of being a married woman, if I can t have 
 mine own way?" 
 
 " You shall have your way and mine too, if you 
 like," said Edward. " Then it is settled that we 
 are to carry these jewels to market, and exchange 
 them for kine and sheep and such vulgar matters." 
 
 " Even so," I answered. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 315 
 
 " Then we will ride to Biddeford to-morrow, if 
 you are well rested. But take care of the note, 
 Dolly. It may save trouble some day." 
 
 Our conference was interrupted by a call to 
 dinner; for these good folk kept to their primi 
 tive hours, and dined before eleven of the clock. 
 The good dame treated us to all sorts of country 
 dainties, for she was and is a famous cook. I saw 
 with pleasure the devout way in which Master 
 Atkins said grace, not mumbling it over like a 
 charm against rats, as my poor uncle used to do. 
 The meal was a very pleasant one. Master Atkins, 
 being skilfully led on by my husband, told us some 
 very nice tales of his travels and adventures, and 
 of the strange superstitions of sailors, particularly 
 of the ghostly bark called the "Flying Dutch 
 man," which never appears but in a storm, and is 
 doomed, for the wickedness of its captain and crew, 
 to wander forever, without ever making a port. 
 
 " You speak rather as if you believed in this 
 unlucky c Dutchman, " said my husband. 
 
 "I would not say absolutely that I do not," an 
 swered Master Atkins seriously. l " We old sailors 
 see many strange things. I could tell you of a 
 great creature with a body like a snow wreath, 
 fully two fathoms in length ; and with a dozen 
 snaky arms, each big enough to pull down a big 
 fishing boat, twisting and writhing like serpents ; 
 
 1 One of the most intelligent sailors I ever met, a Christian 
 man and fairly educated, fully believed in the "Flying Dutch- 
 
316 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 and great staring eyes, a horrible sight it was, 
 I can tell you. I never wish to see it again, I am 
 sure of that." 1 
 
 " Hush, Willy," said his wife reprovingly. " You 
 should not tell the young lady of such frightful 
 creatures." 
 
 " Oh, I am not easily scared ! " I said ; but the 
 dame shook her head at her husband so meaningly, 
 that lie began to talk of pleasanter things, of the 
 beautiful birds of South America, and the great 
 fireflies, infinitely brighter than our glow-worms, 
 and by which one can see to read even. 
 
 " When I hear Will Atkins s stories, it revives my 
 old longing for the sea," said my husband. " If 
 worst comes to worst, Dolly, I can leave you with 
 our good friends here, arid ship on a Bristol 
 trader." 
 
 "And then I will don men s attire, and follow 
 you, like the lady in the ballad," said I. " But with 
 such tastes, and such a home, I wonder you never 
 ran away to sea as a boy." 
 
 " I could not leave my mother while she lived," 
 answered Edward. " I was her only comfort, and 
 I promised her I would stay by my father as long 
 as it was possible. Otherwise, I would have sailed 
 with my poor uncle, and perhaps have shared his 
 fate." 
 
 " Why, what happened to him ? " I asked. 
 
 1 The great white squid, seen once in a generation by the 
 whalers, but never yet described by naturalists. It is considered 
 as of evil omen. 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 317 
 
 " His vessel was taken by Barbary corsairs, and 
 the whole crew killed, or driven into slavery. 
 One object of my journey to the East was to try to 
 hear some news of my uncle ; but I believe, from 
 all I can learn, that he was killed in defence of his 
 vessel. Better so than a lifetime of Turkish 
 slavery." 
 
 " Maybe he will turn up sometime, with a ship 
 load of gold, as one reads of in story-books," said 
 I ; " or perhaps he is a Turk, w r ith a long beard, 
 smoking a great curly pipe, like the grand Turk in 
 Mr. Chardin s travels, and with as many wives as 
 the stars in the skies. Who knows but you might 
 have done the same if you had gone with him ? " 
 
 Edward is so sober, that I do like to stir him 
 up sometimes, just as I used to poke up my 
 mistress s great Indian cat and make him play in 
 spite of his grave airs. Tom Atkins has promised 
 to bring me a pair of these same cats next time 
 he goes to Bombay. I hope he will get them home 
 safely. I do love a nice cat. 
 
 The next day we rode to Biddeford and visited 
 Master GifTord, who made us very welcome, and 
 confirmed Edward s opinion of the worth of the 
 jewels. 
 
 " But I would you had them in Bristol," said 
 he. " There is a very worthy man, a correspond 
 ent of mine own, who deals in these matters, and 
 who has, I know, a commission at present to pur 
 chase a number of fine diamonds. I am going 
 thither to-morrow. Suppose you both go with 
 
318 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 me. The sea will be like a mill-pond ; but, if 
 madam is afraid of the voyage, my wife and 
 daughters will make her most welcome while we 
 are away." 
 
 Madam Gifford and her pretty daughters warmly 
 seconded the invitation ; but my husband leaving 
 the matter to me, I decided to go with him. I 
 was not at all afraid of the sea, and I always did 
 like to see new places. 
 
 We had a very nice voyage, though the sea was 
 not exactly like a mill-pond. I was surprised to 
 see Bristol such a great and busy city, and won 
 dered, like all strangers, at the steep and narrow 
 streets, too narrow for any thing but a dog-cart. 
 Master Gifford took us to a very nice inn ; and, 
 after we had eaten and rested, he led us to his cor 
 respondent the jeweller. We found him in his 
 shop, a tall, nice-looking man, with very black 
 crispy hair, and pale blue eyes, which, despite their 
 want of color, had a singularly penetrating look. 
 I liked him the moment I saw him. When he 
 learned the nature of our business, he led us into 
 his private room, and bade us be seated. My hus 
 band stated his errand, and produced the jewels, 
 which Master Davidson examined with great 
 attention. 
 
 " How much do you conceive these stones to be 
 worth?" said he at last. 
 
 "If they are genuine, they should be worth 
 fifty pounds apiece at least," answered my hus 
 band. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 319 
 
 Mr. Davidson smiled. There was a look of 
 mild amusement in his eyes which made my heart 
 sink fathoms deep, for I thought at once that he 
 believed the jewels were counterfeit. 
 
 " I should say you were no great judge of such 
 matters," said Mr. Davidson, smiling again. I saw 
 my husband s face change, and knew his thought 
 was the same as my own. I felt downright sick 
 with suspense. Mr. Davidson looked at the jewels 
 once more, and laid them carefully down on a 
 piece of black velvet, where they shone like stars. 
 
 " I will give you a hundred pounds apiece for 
 these diamonds," said he deliberately. " I say not 
 that the} 7 are not worth more, but you know I 
 must make my profit on them." 
 
 " That is no more than right," said my husband ; 
 while I felt like crying and laughing both at once. 
 "Then you think there is no doubt of the stones?" 
 
 " I can tell a genuine stone from the best imi 
 tation ever made," said the merchant somewhat 
 scornfully. " Nay, put me in a dark room, and I 
 can tell the difference by the feeling." 
 
 "How?" I asked. 
 
 " That I cannot explain to you, madam. Tis a 
 faculty that comes by use, and also by inheritance. 
 My family have dealt in precious stones for many 
 generations. These stones are not only of good 
 size, but of very uncommonly fine lustre." 
 
 It seemed like a dream, too good to be true, when 
 I saw the two hundred pounds counted out, and 
 realized the fact that my poor cousin s gift had made 
 
320 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 my husband and myself independent. Mr. David 
 son would treat us to coffee and to some wonderful 
 foreign sweetmeats, the like whereof I never saw, 
 rose-leaves and violets preserved in clear syrup, 
 and a kind of marmalade made of figs, as he told 
 us, which came from Constantinople. He would 
 present me with a box of the marmalade when we 
 came away, and also with a beautiful little china 
 coffee-cup in a silver stand which I had greatly 
 admired. 
 
 " Well," said Master Gifford, when we had re 
 turned to the inn, " did I not keep my word, 
 and bring you to an honest merchant? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, and we are greatly obliged to 
 you," said my husband. 
 
 " Tis nothing," answered Master Gifford has 
 tily. " I would do much more than that for your 
 mother s son. But, Ned, if you take my advice, 
 you will bestow this treasure in a safe place till 
 we leave town. My good friend, Master Birch, 
 will take care of it in his strong-room." 
 
 My husband agreed, and we went forth to find 
 the place. Master Birch was a sugar-refiner, with 
 whom my husband had some slight acquaintance ; 
 and nothing would do but he must show us his 
 furnaces, and treat us to Bristol milk l (which is 
 not milk for babes, by any means) and other dain 
 ties. I wonder, by the way, if this fashion of 
 always giving wine or strong drink to visitors will 
 
 1 A kind of very rich punch, for which the Bristol sugar- 
 refiners used to be famous. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 321 
 
 ever go out. I am sure it will be a good thing if 
 it does. Learning that I was lately married, Mas 
 ter Birch presented me with three loaves of very 
 fine sugar, for luck, as he said, promising to send 
 them to the inn. 
 
 Having thus prosperously disposed of our busi 
 ness, we went out to see the town, and to make 
 some purchases which I had undertaken for Master 
 Gifford s daughters. We were in a book-shop 
 selecting music for the young ladies, when I heard 
 a well-known voice at my elbow asking for Luther s 
 Commentary on Galatians. It brought back to 
 me at once my old life with my mistress. I turned 
 with a start and saw Mr. Baxter, looking older and 
 more worn than I had seen him, but as faultlessly 
 neat and precise as ever. I don t believe even in 
 prison his black coat ever had a speck on it. 
 
 I greeted him warmly ; but he did not recognize 
 me for a moment, till I told him who I was, when 
 he answered me with all his old fatherly kindness. 
 
 " But you are so grown and improved, Mrs. 
 Dolly, tis no wonder I did not know you," said 
 he. " I have often wished to hear how you got 
 on in your new relations. But I need not ask if 
 you are happy, since your face tells its own story." 
 
 " Yes, indeed I am," I answered, " far happier 
 than I ever hoped or deserved ; " and I presented 
 to him my husband. 
 
 The stationer, seeing that we had met as old 
 friends, kindly asked us into his private shop, and 
 gave us seats. 
 
322 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 "And so you are married, little Dolly," said 
 Mr. Baxter. " It seems but a few days since you 
 came, a shy, scared little girl of fifteen, to my Lady 
 Corbet s service." 
 
 " I remember it well," I answered, " and how 
 kindly you spoke to me when you found me crying 
 in the ante-chamber." 
 
 " Ay, twas a hard place for a child," said Mr. 
 Baxter musingly. " I have sometimes feared your 
 mistress s peculiarities might set you against all 
 religion." 
 
 " They did something toward it, I do believe," 
 I answered ; " not because she was a Presbyterian, 
 however. I saw enough in Mr. and Mrs. Pender- 
 gast, and Mrs. Andrews, not to say yourself, Mr. 
 Baxter, to cure me of any such notion as that, if I 
 had ever taken it up. It was, that, while I heard my 
 mistress make great professions of piety, I saw that 
 her whole heart and affections were set on things of 
 this world ; and it does not seem to me possible for 
 any one to do that and be a true Christian, whether 
 the world take the form of money or fashion or 
 pleasure." 
 
 " You are right, my child, and glad am I to hear 
 such sentiments from your lips," answered Mr. 
 Baxter ; " but you were ever a gracious child. 
 This little wife of yours, Mr. Studley, sent her 
 very last guinea, I do believe, for the relief of a 
 poor prisoner, when her wealthy mistress gave 
 How much, Dolly?" 
 
 " Seven shillings," said I. " I can never think 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 323 
 
 of Dr. Bates s face without laughing. How is 
 the good gentleman, sir ? " 
 
 " Why, well and prospering as ever." 
 
 " And my mistress : do you know aught of her 
 and her husband? for I hear she is married again." 
 How glad I was to be able to ask this question 
 without a tremor ! 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I heard of her only this day from an 
 old friend of yours and hers, Mrs. Williams," 
 said Mr. Baxter, with a look of disgust on his 
 thin, refined face which nearly set me off laughing. 
 
 " Mrs. Williams ! " I exclaimed joyfully. " Is 
 she here, then? Where is she to be found?" 
 
 " She is not far off, seeing she lodges above stairs 
 with Master Bridges, the stationer, and his sister," 
 answered Mr. Baxter, smiling ; " but you cannot 
 see her now, because she has just gone out. She 
 can tell you of your late mistress better than I 
 can. She is an admirable woman, though she is 
 infected with some of the heresies of the day, and 
 no more accessible to argument than a post." 
 
 I smiled, remembering some of the ancient con 
 troversies of these two good people, and how I 
 used to wonder what they were about. 
 
 " And what is the news in town ? " asked my 
 husband. Mr. Baxter shook his head. 
 
 " Nothing good, sir. The Papists rear their 
 heads more and more boldly. Popish books and 
 trinkets are openly sold in the shops, as you see 
 they are here also, and conversions are growing 
 to be the mode in the fashionable world. Mr. 
 
324 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 Dryden, the poet, hath been received into the Ro 
 mish Church, as hath also my Lord Sunderland." 
 
 " I don t so much wonder at Sunderland," 
 observed my husband. " He would sell his own 
 soul or any one else for court favor. What part 
 does his lady take ? " 
 
 " I hear that excellent lady is greatly grieved 
 and distressed," answered Mr. Baxter. "She is, 
 by all accounts, an admirable woman." 
 
 " She is, indeed," said I. " I have often met 
 her at my aunt s ; they are great friends. And 
 you say many converts are being made?" 
 
 " Yes, it is the latest mode," answered Mr. Bax 
 ter dryly ; " but there is no knowing how long it 
 may last, for the king grows more and more 
 unpopular every day, and there are ominous mur 
 murs. I believe strange events are preparing for 
 tliis nation." 
 
 " I have heard that his Majesty is inclined to 
 show great favor to the Dissenters, and hatli even 
 promised them toleration," said my husband. 
 
 " Yes, and at what price, and for what purpose ? 
 That he may secure not only toleration, but domi 
 nation, for his own sect. For the sake of that, he 
 would indulge not only Presbyterians, but Ana 
 baptists and Quakers and ranters of every sort," 
 said Mr. Baxter. " We will accept of no such 
 gift, if I know my brethren at all. But I must 
 be going. My dearest Dolly, I am most happy to 
 have met you again. You have a treasure in this 
 child, Master Studley ; I hope you will cherish her 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 325 
 
 as she deserves. And, my children, I trust you 
 mean to set up your household in the fear of God, 
 and as those who must give account to him." 
 
 " I trust so, sir," answered Edward. 
 
 " It was my husband who first taught me to 
 love God, Mr. Baxter," I said. " It was he who 
 led the poor, tired little lamb, weary of the thorns 
 and briars of the world, back to the fold of the 
 Good Shepherd." 
 
 " Why, that is well, and right glad am I to hear 
 you say so," said Mr. Baxter. He gave us his 
 blessing, and went away just as Mrs. Williams 
 came in. 
 
 I never was more glad to see any one in my 
 life. We carried her to our inn, and would have 
 her sup with us ; and my husband going out with 
 Master Gifford, she gave me the whole story of 
 her lady s marriage. 
 
 " And you have really left her? " said I. 
 
 "Ay, she turned me away," answered Mrs. 
 Williams, with a tremor of the lip. "After all 
 my years of hard arid faithful service, she drove 
 me from her because I spoke my mind concerning 
 her intended marriage. But I could not do other 
 wise, so I must needs take the consequences." 
 
 "What possessed her?" said I. 
 
 " Who can tell ? The spirit which sometimes does 
 possess old women to make fools of themselves," 
 answered Mrs. Williams, with more bitterness than 
 ever I heard from her. " She is besotted with 
 that wicked man, and can refuse him nothing." 
 
326 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " Not even money ? " I asked incredulously. 
 
 "Not even money," answered Mrs. Williams. 
 " She lavishes gold on him like water ; and he takes 
 it, rewards her with a kiss or not, as it happens, 
 and, unless he be greatly belied, spends it in 
 gambling and every sort of wickedness." 
 
 "Ay, we heard he was a gambler," said I. 
 " Poor woman, she may die in an almshouse yet, 
 as she was always predicting ! " 
 
 " Likely enough ; for she hath put every thing 
 into his hands, except a few hundred pounds which 
 Mr. Robertson has in his control, and won t give 
 up. You ought to see her, with her dark wig and 
 fashionable dresses, trying to look young. Bah ! it 
 makes me sick to think of it. But tell me all about 
 yourself, my dear. This seems a very fine young 
 gentleman you have married." 
 
 " He is, indeed," said I. " If I thanked God 
 for nothing else, I would do so for giving him to 
 me, and saving me from that other." 
 
 " And so you may, so you may, my dear. But 
 about your fortunes now ? " 
 
 " Our fortunes are not very flourishing, but yet 
 I trust we may do well enough," I answered. 
 "Take out your knitting, which I am sure you 
 have in your pocket, and I will tell you all about 
 it. There, now you look like yourself " (for the 
 dear woman had pulled out her stocking, I should 
 say the very same I had last seen in her hands). 
 " Now you shall hear the whole, from the begin 
 ning." 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 327 
 
 I told it accordingly, with a running commentary 
 of exclamations from my good old friend. I had 
 hardly done, when she took me up with eager 
 ness. 
 
 "O Mrs. Dorothy, my dear, take me to live 
 with you ! I will be worth ten hired servants to 
 you, and ask for no wages. I have all the money 
 I shall ever need ; but oh, let me but have a home 
 under your roof ! You are very young and new 
 to your duties ; but I know all about dairy work, 
 from the rearing of calves and lambs to the making 
 of cream cheeses." 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Williams, I would love nothing 
 better than to have you with me," said I. " You 
 were my only friend after my mother died; and, 
 had I but been guided by you, I should have been 
 saved the great trouble of my life. But you know 
 we shall be very poor. I do not suppose I shall 
 be able to keep any servant, except, perhaps, some 
 little village maid who will come for her meat 
 and clothes. And you are so accomplished : you 
 might take a place in any nobleman s household." 
 
 " Never mind my accomplishments," said Mrs. 
 Williams almost crossly. " They will keep, I 
 dare say. I have no desire to go into any more 
 great households. What I want is a quiet home 
 for my old age, where I can be quit of the vanities 
 of the world, and yet be of some use in it." 
 
 " You are not likely to see much of the vanities 
 of the world in our household, seeing my husband 
 and I have no more than two hundred and fifty 
 
328 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 pounds between us," said I. " Dear Mrs. Wil 
 liams, nothing would make me happier than to 
 have you with me, as I said ; but you know I must 
 consult my husband." 
 
 " To be sure you must. But Dolly, my dear, 
 I beg % pardon, I should say Mrs. Studley " 
 
 " No, you shouldn t ; you should say Dolly, just 
 as you always did," I interrupted. " But what were 
 you going to say ? You see T have not forgotten 
 all my naughty tricks. I know how to interrupt, 
 as you used to chide me for doing." 
 
 " Ay, I remember. I was going to ask you, my 
 dear, whether your husband knew about Mr. 
 Morley ? " 
 
 " All about him that I know," I answered. " I 
 told him the whole story." 
 
 " And very rightly," said Mrs. Williams, look 
 ing relieved. " These untold stories and conceal 
 ments are ghosts which have risen to disturb many 
 a married pair." 
 
 Mr. Studley coming in at the moment, I told 
 him of Mrs. Williams s proposal. He left the 
 matter wholly to me, and I was not long in accept 
 ing the offer. Mrs. Williams has made her home 
 under our roof ever since, and I believe will never 
 leave it, save for her home in Paradise. 
 
 We returned to Biddeford next day, leaving 
 our treasure in the hands of Mr. Birch, subject 
 to Mr. Studley s order, which we could do with 
 great convenience, as Master Zechel Atkins 
 meant to embark from Bristol. On our way 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 329 
 
 home, we stopped at Applecoombe to view the 
 farm. 
 
 " What a lovely wood," said I, as we came in 
 sight of the place, " and so near the house." 
 
 " That is the orchard," said my husband. 
 "Applecoombe has always been famous for its 
 orchard. You see the house is a very old-fashioned 
 one." 
 
 It was, indeed, being built of brick and timber, 
 like many of the old houses in Biddeford. There 
 was a deep porch overgrown with jessamine and 
 passion-flower, and on either side the door grew 
 great myrtle trees, taller than my head. There 
 was a very pretty flower-garden, rather a rare 
 sight on a farm, and every thing looked in 
 excellent trim. 
 
 " This seems promising, does it not? " said I. 
 
 " Oh, I know the place well ! " replied my hus 
 band. " I have often been over the farm with the 
 oldest lad, who was a great playmate of mine." 
 
 " And where is he now ? " I asked. 
 
 " His bones lie out yonder in the Atlantic, like 
 those of many another friend and playmate of my 
 youth," answered my husband. " But here comes 
 the dame to welcome us." 
 
 And a very warm welcome she gave us, leading 
 us into the house, and sending for her husband 
 and sons, who were busy abroad. Of course we 
 had to eat and drink ; and then the good woman 
 took us over the house, while Edward talked with 
 her husband. The house, though old, as I said, 
 
330 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 was convenient and pleasant, facing the west 
 and south, well sheltered from the wind, and with 
 quite a grove of walnut and sweet chestnut trees 
 at the back. The upper rooms were a good deal 
 pulled up, for which the dame apologized, saying 
 she and her daughters had already begun to pack. 
 I liked the look of the place from the first, and 
 was glad when my husband told me lie had con 
 cluded his bargain on very favorable terms. 
 
 We came over again the next day, to decide 
 about the furniture, most of which we kept, as we 
 had none of our own ; and here I found the use of 
 having Mrs. Williams at my elbow with her ad 
 vice, for naturally I knew very little about the 
 matter. I do think she heartily enjoyed the busi 
 ness of poking the feather-beds and pillows, tap 
 ping the earthenware with her knuckles, to test its 
 soundness, and so on. I followed after her, looking 
 as wise as I could, and holding my tongue, so as 
 not to show my ignorance. 
 
 A bargain is soon settled when both parties are 
 anxious for it. In less than a fortnight, Master 
 Atkins and his family had embarked for America, 
 with all their goods and chattels, and we entered 
 on our new home. Very forlorn it looked, I must 
 say, on that chilly May morning. No house looks 
 very cheerful just after a removal ; and it seemed 
 to me that the furniture left behind, and standing 
 about in disorder, and the litter of odds and ends 
 of no earthly use, and too good to burn up, made 
 the rooms more dismal than they would otherwise 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 331 
 
 have been. I did feel terribly down-hearted and 
 discouraged at first, I must say ; but I would not 
 have shown any such feeling for the world. How 
 glad I was to have Mrs. Williams at my elbow ! 
 Mrs. Atkins had lent me a strong, handy maiden 
 to help me for a day or two. We all went to 
 work with a will, and a few hours made a great 
 difference in the appearance of things. 
 
 " Oh, it is not bad, by any means ! " said Mrs. 
 Williams cheerfully, as we sat down to rest a 
 moment. " The house is so clean, that it will be 
 easy to get it in order. The kitchen does not look 
 like ours, when we moved to the court end of the 
 town. Do you remember?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed," I answered. " I wonder what 
 Peggy would say to working in such a place, all 
 underground, and with the water coming in to 
 flood the floor at high-tides, and the black beetles 
 running all about the walls." 
 
 Mussy!" exclaimed Peggy; "and do people 
 live like that in London, mistress? I thought 
 London town had been all gold and gilding." 
 
 " The gold is all on the upper side, my maid," 
 answered Mrs. Williams , " and most of that is 
 but gilding and base metal." 
 
 " My sister liveth in Biddeford with a mer 
 chant s lady, and I thought her kitchen was nar 
 row enough," said Peggy ; " but to live under 
 ground, and with black beetles mussy to 
 gracious ! " 
 
 A knock at the door averted from Peggy s head 
 
332 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 a lecture on profane swearing, which I saw hover 
 ing on Mrs. Williams s lips. She is quite a 
 Quaker in her notions on those matters. The 
 visitor proved to be Master Atkins, with a great 
 basket containing roast fowl, cream cheese, tarts, 
 and I know not what else, for our dinners. Dame 
 Atkins had insisted on our taking a loaf of bread 
 and a bottle of wine with us, that we need not 
 bring scarceness on our new home by entering it 
 empty-handed. I sent him out to find Mr. Stud- 
 ley, who was busy about the barn, and we had 
 quite a feast ready when the men came in. My 
 husband intended to keep but one man at the 
 house, and had been looking for someone, but had 
 not heretofore heard of anybody to suit him. He 
 now entered, followed by Andrew. 
 
 " You see I have found a man," said he. " An 
 drew is turned adrift as well as ourselves, and for 
 our sake." 
 
 " I don t mind," said the old man, though his 
 lip trembled. " I meant to have left at the term, 
 anyhow. I can t abide to live under the same 
 roof with those two. I m not so young as I was, 
 but I m strong enough, and not afraid to do my 
 day s ploughing or harvesting with any lad of 
 them all." 
 
 (Edward told me afterward that he would have 
 preferred a younger man ; but, as Andrew had lost 
 his place on our account, he felt bound to take 
 him on. It seems my father-in-law was greatly 
 enraged when he learned next day that Andrew 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 333 
 
 had attended us to the farm, and turned him away 
 without ceremony, though he had lived in the 
 family all his life). 
 
 "But, indeed, he groweth worse and worse," 
 said Andrew, concluding his tale. " He is like 
 one possessed with the Evil One, drinking, swear 
 ing, and blaspheming from morning till night, and 
 almost from night till morning, and Kirton egging 
 him on to drink more and more all the time. Tis 
 my belief that the poor old gentleman will not 
 stand it long, and. that they are trying to get him 
 out of the way." 
 
 u But I should think that he would see for him 
 self that so much drink is hurtful to him," said I, 
 while Edward went into the outer kitchen to 
 wash his hands. 
 
 Master Atkins shook his head. 
 
 " When a man has lived past his threescore and 
 ten without ever denying or controlling himself, 
 he is not going to begin then," said he. " And 
 that hath been the way with Mr. Studley. His 
 life hath been one long self-indulgence in every 
 wish which hath sprung up in his mind, or which 
 Satan has put there. I would not tell you all the 
 mischief he hath wrought hereabouts, far more 
 than his son ever heard of. I hope these adven 
 turers who have got him in their clutches may not 
 chouse Master Ned out of his inheritance entirely, 
 but T shall not be surprised if the old man leaves 
 every thing to them." 
 
 Edward now returned ; and we sat down in true 
 
334 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 farmer fashion, with the servants at the lower end 
 of the board. I could not but wonder what my 
 aunt would have said to see me. But I had made 
 up my mind from the first, that, if I were to be a 
 farmer s dame, I would be one, and not keep up 
 any fine-lady airs. 
 
 In a week s time we were comfortably settled 
 in our new home, and I had made good progress 
 in the arts of the dairy and kitchen. Indeed, I 
 had taken lessons before of Mistress Atkins ; and 
 I shall never forget my husband s face of surprise 
 when he found me in the barnyard in a red petti 
 coat and homespun kirtle, milking a long-horned 
 heifer. (I own I was rather afraid of her, but I 
 did not let her find it out.) 
 
 " What would Lady Fullham say ? " said he. 
 
 " She would say I had got a good mess of milk, 
 I hope," I answered merrily. "And now you 
 may carry the bucket to the dairy, if you like." 
 
 " I would the barns were nearer the house, for 
 your sake," said Edward ; " but I think our North 
 Devon farmers like to get them as far away as pos 
 sible. I will make a change in that matter, if we 
 stay long enough." 
 
 If it be an inconvenient fashion in one way, it 
 is nice in another, for one does not have the smells 
 and noises of the farmyard all day long. But I 
 must say that on rainy and sleety days I could 
 have wished the barnyard nearer, and the path 
 that led to it less steep. 
 
 I did not have a very easy time that summer. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 335 
 
 Of course every thing was new to me. I made 
 mistakes, and should have made more if I had not 
 had my dear Mrs. Williams to counsel me. She 
 could give little more than counsel, for she had the 
 ill-fortune to sprain her ankle, and was confined to 
 her settle and arm-chair for nearly three months; 
 so I had her to wait on with all the rest. But I 
 could well afford to do it. My only servant was 
 a younger sister of Peggy s, a stout, willing girl, 
 very good-tempered, but not very bright, and with 
 a special genius for dropping and slopping. More 
 than one pan of milk have I seen her spill all over 
 the floor, in removing it from the hearth to the 
 shelf, after the cream had clotted beautifully. I 
 must say my fingers itched to cuff her ears, but I 
 never did. At last, however, I found the place to 
 get hold of her. I discovered that she was very 
 anxious to learn to read, and I promised her a les 
 son every day that she did her work well. Her 
 mother was very doubtful, declaring that Molly 
 would be good for nothing at all if she moiled 
 what little brains she had over books ; but I perse 
 vered, and my experiment turned out admirably. 
 Using her mind in one direction seemed to brighten 
 it in another; and, when Molly knew that her be 
 loved spelling-lesson depended on the state of her 
 floor and pails, she took infinite, pains with her 
 cleaning. At present, I must say, she goes rather 
 to the other extreme. 
 
 Well, I worked very hard, and was often so dis 
 couraged with my own failures that I was ready 
 
336 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 to sit down and cry; but I could not but put the 
 best face upon matters when I saw how hard my 
 poor husband worked. He felt very sadly, too, 
 about his father. We never saw any of the fam 
 ily, but the accounts we heard were worse and 
 worse. Strange as it seemed, Edward did really 
 love his father, and grieved over the estrange 
 ment. He wrote to the old man two or three 
 times ; but the letters were returned torn in two, 
 without having been opened, and with some abus 
 ive message. At last Mr. Rowson rode over to see 
 us, and counselled my husband to send no more 
 letters. 
 
 " They do but anger him the more, and that 
 woman makes use of them to set him against }~ou. 
 He is wholly in her hands and those of her 
 brother, as he calls himself, though between our 
 selves I don t believe he is her brother at all, more 
 than I am." 
 
 " How strange that Mr. Studley should be gov 
 erned by such wretches, to the prejudice of his 
 own son ! " said I. 
 
 " It is not strange to me," answered Mr. Row- 
 son. " Mr. Studley was always that way. He 
 always had somebody who was all perfection, some 
 favorite servant or boon companion who flattered 
 and governed him. Do you remember, Ned, how 
 he held on to Wilkins, his steward, long after 
 every one in the country knew that Wilkins was 
 cheating the eyes out of his head? 1 believe people 
 of his disposition, so afraid of being influenced or 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 337 
 
 advised by those who have the right to do so, are 
 often served just in this way." 
 
 " No doubt you are right," said Edward. 
 
 " I know I am," answered Mr. Rowson. " And 
 so, Ned, if you will take my advice, you will write 
 no more at present. You know me for your friend, 
 I hope, and I would not advise you save for your 
 good. I may not have been a very good friend to 
 myself, but I have been a good one to you." 
 
 "That you have," answered Edward warmly. 
 " But, Rowson, why should you not be a good 
 friend to yourself? Why should you not break 
 off these courses so unbecoming any Christian, 
 much more an ordained priest, and live as becomes 
 what you profess ? " 
 
 Mr. Rowson shook his head sadly. 
 
 " Tis too late, I doubt," said he. " Beside, I 
 keep some influence with the old man by drinking 
 out a bottle with him now and then. We must 
 fight the Devil with his own weapons." 
 
 " Negatur, to both propositions," answered my 
 husband. " You do not keep any influence with 
 my father by sharing in his drinking-bouts. Will 
 he take one bottle the less because you ask him ? 
 Neither are we to fight the Devil with his own 
 weapons. He understands the use of them far 
 better than we do. If we would have the advan 
 tage, we must attack him with weapons he does 
 not understand, or dares not touch." 
 
 " Maybe so," answered Mr. Rowson. " But I 
 have at least done one thing, Ned. I had a little 
 
338 Through Unknown Ways; 0r, 
 
 money come to me from my old aunt Truesdale s 
 estate, and I have paid your father all the money I 
 owed him. So I have that yoke off my neck, at all 
 events. But it went hard," said the poor man, 
 shaking his head. " I did so want to put it into 
 the church-organ. Nobody knows what I suffer 
 every Sunday from that horrible instrument." 
 
 " When I come to my fortune, you shall have a 
 new one," said my husband. " Meantime, stay 
 and sup with us ; and my wife shall sing for you, 
 and show you that the milk-pail and the churn 
 have not quite spoiled her hand for the lute." 
 
 Mr. Rowson staid and made himself very agree 
 able. Twas a pity to see a man of his gifts, who 
 might be so useful, sunk in self-indulgence and 
 sloth. But I have never seen elegant tastes and 
 accomplishments do any thing toward keeping man 
 or woman from sin. 
 
 Matters went on in this way till the middle of 
 September. The last month had been to me much 
 easier than those which had gone before. I had 
 learned to do my work more easily, and took great 
 pride in my butter and cream cheese, which Mrs. 
 Atkins pronounced equal to her own. The crops 
 were turning out well, and the cattle doing nicely ; 
 and our apple-orchard, always a fine one, was this 
 year quite wonderful for the beauty and abundance 
 of the crop. I had been out to look for some stray 
 hens which had been seduced from the ways of 
 virtue and domesticity by a pair of vagrant guinea- 
 fowls, and was coming in with my apron full of 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 339 
 
 early pippins, when I saw Mr. Rowson at the 
 kitchen door holding his jaded horse by the bridle, 
 and conferring with my husband. Both the men 
 wore such perturbed faces, that I was sure some 
 thing had happened, and quickened my steps. As 
 I came up, Mr. Rowson put out his hand as if to 
 keep me off. 
 
 " Don t come near me, child. You need not be 
 in the mess, at all events," said he. 
 
 " What mess ? " I asked, wondering, for he was 
 always very polite to me. " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " My father and his wife are both very ill with 
 fever," said Edward huskily. " Everybody has de 
 serted them, and left them to die alone. I must 
 go to them at once, Dolly. Will you get a few 
 things ready ? " 
 
 I went up-stairs, got my husband s clothes ready, 
 and then coolly put on my own riding-gear. I 
 had always noticed that if I wanted to do any thing 
 particularly audacious, and went on and did it 
 without saying any thing, my husband took it for 
 granted that all was right. So I came down-stairs 
 with my bundles, as though it had been all settled 
 between us. Mr. Rowson opened his eyes wide 
 when he saw me. 
 
 " What, you ! " said he. " Edward, you will not 
 suffer this child to risk her life in any such way." 
 
 My husband looked doubtfully at me, but I did 
 not give him time to speak. 
 
 " Of course I shall go," said I, as quietly as if it 
 had been a question of going to church. "A 
 
340 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 woman s help will be needed, and Ned must have 
 some one to look after his comfort. Mrs. Wil 
 liams, am I not right ? " 
 
 " 1 think you are, and none of us will die till 
 the time appointed," answered Mrs. Williams, 
 bringing her predestination doctrine to my sup 
 port. " Mrs. Studley s place is with her husband, 
 and she will not die any the sooner for doing her 
 duty. I can see to every thing here." And then 
 she began to tell me how to guard myself and my 
 husband by taking good food and fresh air and 
 avoiding chills. She really is the most sensible 
 woman in the world. 
 
 It was near sunset when we came to Studley 
 Hall, and I was at once reminded of my first arri 
 val. At the gate we met Dr. Kir ton, booted and 
 spurred, just mounting his horse. 
 
 " You had better not go in. You can do no 
 good," said he. " Your father will not know you, 
 and they are both as good as dead. You won t 
 get any thing by going in now." 
 
 " Judas," said my husband, with such a burst 
 of passion as I never heard from him before, 
 "dost thou judge every one by thy vile self? 
 Dost thou think it is that I am thinking of? 
 Begone." 
 
 Kirton cast a venomous glance at Edward, but 
 made no reply ; and I was glad to see him mount 
 his horse and ride off. We dismounted at the 
 door ; and fastening our horses, for there was no 
 one to take them, we entered the house. All was 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 341 
 
 still and deserted below, but up-stairs we heard 
 a woman s voice in such accents of horror and 
 despair as I never imagined, and cannot describe. 
 
 "Don t desert me, Jack," it cried. "I did all 
 for you. Don t leave me to die alone. Oh, for 
 pity s sake, don t leave me ! " 
 
 We went up-stairs, following the sound. The 
 doors of two adjoining chambers were open, and 
 from them proceeded an air enough to knock one 
 down. Edward went straight through the first 
 room, and flung the casement wide open. Then 
 lie drew back the closed curtains of the bed. 
 There lay the poor old man, without sense or 
 motion, with half-open glazed eyes and blackened, 
 parted lips. Only his heavy breathing showed he 
 was alive. 
 
 " Go, Dolly," said Edward hoarsely. " You can 
 do no good here. Rowson will help me." 
 
 I obeyed at once, for I wanted to find the other 
 poor thing, whose wailing pierced my heart. She 
 did not notice me at first; but when I too had 
 opened the window, and put back the curtain, the 
 fresh air seemed to bring her a little to herself, 
 and she stared at me with a wondering gaze. 
 
 " You ! " said she. " You are young Mrs. Stud- 
 ley. Did you die on the moor, and has your ghost 
 come back?" 
 
 " No," I answered. " I am no ghost. See, my 
 hands are warm and substantial. Try to compose 
 yourself, and tell me what you want." 
 
 " Water, water," she gasped. " Oh, for one 
 
342 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 drop of water to cool my tongue, for I am tor 
 mented in this flame ! " 
 
 I did not believe any thing would hurt her, and 
 I remembered that in my ague Dr. Burnett gave 
 me all the water I wanted, in spite of Mrs. Sharp- 
 less s horror. I brought a glass of water, fresh 
 from the draw-well, and she drank it eagerly. 
 
 " It is Mrs. Studley," said she, looking at me, 
 and holding my hand, as I would have withdrawn 
 the glass. " What has brought you here ? Have 
 you come to heap coals of fire on my head? Don t 
 do that : it is burning already." 
 
 " Hush," I answered. " I am going to bathe 
 your head and face, and you will feel better." 
 
 I went to the toilet table, which was loaded 
 with perfumes and cosmetics, and finding a bottle 
 of Hungary water, 1 I bathed her face and hands 
 with it, brushed her hair as well as I could, and 
 smoothed and cooled the tumbled pillows. My 
 cares seemed to soothe her, for she fell into a 
 troubled sleep, and I stepped away without dis 
 turbing her. I found that Edward and Mr. Row- 
 son had changed the old gentleman to a clean 
 cot-bed, and cleared out the room a little ; but the 
 poor old man was insensible to all their cares. Mr. 
 Rowson told me in a whisper, that he could not 
 live more than a few hours. I went down-stairs, 
 roused up the kitchen fire, and finding some coffee 
 
 1 Hungary water was distilled from rosemary, and was es 
 teemed of great value in fevers. It was the invention of the 
 unfortunate Queen of Bohemia. 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 343 
 
 I made a pot of it, toasted some bread, and set out 
 what decent provisions I could find. There was 
 an abundance of every thing, but in such a state, 
 such pots of stale broth and heaps of bones and 
 fragments, it was enough to breed the plague, 
 let alone a fever. It was clear enough what kind 
 of house-keeping had obtained under the sway of 
 the poor woman up-stairs. I was trying to bring 
 things to some kind of order, when the kitchen- 
 door opened, and in came old Janey. 
 
 " I heard you and Master Neddy had come, and 
 I couldn t stop away," said the good soul. "Don t 
 ee do that, mistress ; tisn t fit for the likes of 
 you," taking a saucepan out of my hand. " And 
 how is the poor old gentleman ? " 
 
 I told her. She shook her head. 
 
 " Tis all over with mun," said she solemnly. 
 " I knowed that afore I come. Twant for naught 
 I heerd the white owl last night and night before." 
 
 " What about the white owl ? " I asked, as I 
 was picking up the old silver spoons which lay 
 here and there among the rubbish. "I should 
 think owls might be common enough here. I am 
 sure they are about Applecoombe. They carried 
 off a dozen chickens from me last month." 
 
 Janey shook her head solemnly. 
 
 " Tis no common owl, my tender ; tis the white 
 owl of the Studleys, the snow-white bird that 
 always screams before any great misfortune befalls 
 the family. I heard mun plain enough the night 
 before master brought home that witch ; but no 
 
344 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 one ever sees mun, but one of the family. Oh, 
 there s a-many such things happen here in the 
 west ! But how about that other ? " I told her 
 about Mrs. Studley. 
 
 "She won t die," said Janey scornfully. " That 
 kind never do, unless their Master has done with 
 them. But do you get Master Ned to come down, 
 and take some meat; and take some yourself, 
 there s a lamb. I will stay with that one up-stairs. 
 I can. t abide to think of your tender hands a-touch- 
 ing mun." 
 
 "But that is not Christian like, Janey," said I. 
 " Think what our Lord did for the woman who 
 was a sinner." 
 
 " Ay, but a repentant sinner," answered the old 
 woman shrewdly. "There, donYee stand to argue 
 with an old woman, but bring Master Neddy to his 
 supper, there s a lamb." 
 
 There was sense in this, at any rate : so I went 
 up, and with some coaxing brought my husband 
 down to take refreshment. Mr. Rowson prom 
 ised to watch my father-in-law every moment, 
 and to call us if he showed any signs of life. The 
 other patient continued to sleep uneasily, mutter 
 ing, and throwing her arms about. It seemed to 
 me her face had changed for the worse, and I said 
 as much to Janey. The old woman nodded. 
 
 " She is struck for death," she said. " Her ill- 
 gotten gains won t do her no more good ; " and 
 then, in a relenting tone, " Poor thing, poor thing ! 
 Maybe after all she never had the chance to learn 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 345 
 
 better. Mr. Champernoun s Harry, who hatli 
 been in Bristol, says he knows he saw her in a 
 theatre there, a-playing in men s clothes, and 
 that she is a regular play actor. * To think of 
 that, a woman a-playing on the stage, and in 
 men s clothes ! Do you think it can be true, 
 mistress ? " 
 
 " I know it is," I answered. " I have seen her 
 often in London." But I did not tell Janey, what 
 I knew to be true, that Becky Marshall was the 
 daughter of a godly Presbyterian minister, as good 
 a man as ever lived, so Mrs. Pendergast had told 
 me. 
 
 When night came, Janey would have had me go 
 to bed, or at least lie down ; but, as it turned out, 
 both of us were needed to manage the patient, 
 who raved in delirium all night, now going over 
 parts she had played, and now repeating bits of 
 the Westminster Catechism which no doubt she 
 had learned at her mother s knee. At last she 
 fell into a troubled slumber. The gray dawn was 
 beginning to steal up the sky, and Janey had gone 
 down to see to the kitchen fire, when Mrs. Studley 
 opened her eyes, and fixed them on me with a look 
 I shall never forget. 
 
 " Am I dying ? " said she. 
 
 " I fear so," I answered. I dared not but tell 
 her the truth. " My poor Rebecca, try to turn 
 
 1 It must be remembered that the appearance of women on the 
 stage was an innovation of Charles Second s days, which excited 
 grave reprobation from all serious people. 
 
346 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 your eyes to God, your father s God. There is 
 yet time. Let me call Mr. Rowson." 
 
 " Yes, call him, call him," said she eagerly. 
 
 I went to call Mr. Rowson, who was resting in 
 a great chair. My father-in-law was still lying 
 stupid, as he had done ever since we arrived. Mr. 
 Rowson rose unwillingly, as it seemed. 
 
 " What can she want of me ? I can do her no 
 good. What am I to comfort a dying sinner, who 
 need mercy myself? " 
 
 " We all need it," said I. "But hasten, I do not 
 think she has many minutes to live." 
 
 When we entered the room, we found Rebecca s 
 great black eyes eagerly fixed on the door. 
 
 "The will, the will!" she exclaimed as Mr. 
 Rowson came to the bedside. "Find that will, 
 and burn it. It is in the great walnut cabinet. 
 Burn it." 
 
 " Never mind the will," said I. " Try to think of 
 something better. Pray with her, Mr. Rowson." 
 
 " I want none of his prayers," she cried. " I 
 know what his religion is worth. Go, go, and 
 find the will, and burn it." 
 
 " Perhaps I had better pacify her," he whispered 
 to me ; and then, aloud, " Yes, we will try to find 
 it. Make your mind easy, Mrs. Studley. Justice 
 will be done at last, never fear." 
 
 She seemed content, and dozed off again for a 
 few minutes ; then she roused up and looked 
 around. 
 
 "I thought my father was here," said she. "I 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 347 
 
 thought I heard him say, 4 The blood of Jesus 
 cleanseth from sin ; but it is all a dream," she 
 added sorrowfully, " all a dream. My father is 
 in a better place, and there is no cleansing for 
 such as I." 
 
 " There is, there is ! " I exclaimed. " Dear 
 Rebecca, though your sins have been as scarlet, 
 they shall be white as snow. I know your good 
 father would say so if he were here. Only be 
 lieve." 
 
 She looked at me with a singularly intent gaze. 
 
 " You came to me when all the world deserted 
 me," said she. " I slandered you, and abused you, 
 and turned you out of doors ; and yet you came 
 to me at the risk of your life and nursed me. . If 
 He were like that " 
 
 " He is a thousand million times better," said I, 
 weeping. "Only. turn to him, only pray for for 
 giveness." 
 
 " You may pray," said she, sinking back on her 
 pillows. " You are good. Yes, pray ; my head is 
 growing heavy, and I cannot think of the words." 
 
 Oh, how earnestly I prayed that this poor 
 creature might have, even in this awful moment, 
 grace to turn her face homeward to her Father s 
 house ! I think she understood the words, and 
 tried to join in them ; but as I looked up, at a touch 
 from Janey, I saw she was going. I began the 
 commendatory prayer, but before I finished it all 
 was over. 
 
 Mr. Studley lingered all day, and died at sun- 
 
348 Through Unknown Ways; ot, 
 
 set, making no sign, save that once he opened his 
 eyes and turned them wistfully from Edward to 
 myself. I think he knew us both, but it was only 
 for a moment. The veil fell again ; and, just as 
 the last rays of the sun shot into the room, he 
 died without a struggle. 
 
 " He is gone I My old friend is gone," said 
 Mr. Rowson, weeping like a child, as Edward 
 closed his father s eyes. " Oh, if I had but been 
 faithful, how different might his death have been ! 
 But I am a changed man," said he, looking solemnly 
 upward. " If it please Heaven to spare some short 
 remnant of my worthless, wasted life, it shall be 
 given to his service." 
 
 I was glad to hear him say as much, but I had 
 no time to attend to him. Edward s fixed looks 
 alarmed me, and I wanted nothing so much as to 
 get him out of the room. I had no sooner brought 
 him to the parlor than he fainted, and lay for some 
 time as much like one dead as a living man could 
 be. However, I revived him at last, and was 
 thankful when he burst into a flood of tears. I 
 soothed and quieted him as well as I could, and 
 persuaded him to take some food, and then to lie 
 and rest, while Mr. Rowson, Janey, and I did what 
 was needful up-stairs. How glad I was that I 
 had carried my point and come with him ! 
 
 The day of the funeral Dr. Kirton appeared, in 
 company with an attorney from Biddeford, a man 
 of no good reputation. Edward had looked care 
 fully among his father s papers for the will which 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 349 
 
 he knew the old gentleman had made shortly 
 before our marriage, but it was not to be found. 
 I had my own idea about the matter, remembering 
 poor Rebecca s words ; and I was not much sur 
 prised when the attorney produced a will made 
 some time during the summer, and leaving every 
 thing to Dr. Kirton and his sister, except a 
 hundred pounds to Mr. Rowson, and the harpsi 
 chord and music-books belonging to the first Mrs. 
 Studley, which, to my great surprise, were left to 
 me. The will was witnessed by two persons in 
 Biddeford, and was perfectly formal. 
 
 " You will find it quite correct," said Dr. 
 Kirton very politely, but with a gleam of triumph 
 in his snaky eyes. " The musical instrument shall 
 be sent to Mrs. Studley, as my poor friend directed. 
 - The money shall be paid to you in due time, Mr. 
 Rowson. I presume, Mr. Studley, you will not 
 care to remain here longer. Mr. Rowson, will 
 you not stay to sup with me ? I have your fee for 
 your services to my late brother." 
 
 " Thy money perish with thee ! " burst forth 
 Mr. Rowson. " May the Lord do so to me, and 
 more also, if ever I break bread with thee ! Hast 
 thou killed, and also taken possession ? Beware, 
 that the fate of Ahab and Jezebel doth not over 
 take thee in the midst of thy ill-gotten gains ! 
 Come, my children, and leave this roof, which is 
 accursed with the presence of a traitor, a mur 
 derer." 
 
 "Mr. Rowson, you shall answer for this Ian- 
 
350 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 guage," said Dr. Kirton, turning fairly blue, 
 partly with rage, and partly, I fancy, from fright. 
 
 " I do not fear you," answered the vicar. " Come, 
 children." 
 
 Edward hardly spoke a word till we arrived at 
 home, where Mrs. Williams had every thing in 
 order, and a bright little fire to welcome us. Then, 
 as he looked about, he broke silence. 
 
 " Well, Dorothy, this is to be our home, it seems. 
 Are you content with it?" 
 
 " More than content," said I ; " happy and thank 
 ful. But it is easier for me than for you to lose 
 what is rightfully yours. It is very hard upon 
 you, my poor Ned." 
 
 " It is hard," my husband admitted. " The old 
 place hath been in our family since before the 
 Conquest. The Hall was built with Spanish gold 
 taken in the days of Elizabeth. But what does it 
 matter, after all ? I must soon have left it. My 
 great trouble is for thee, my dear. I little thought 
 what I was bringing thee to." 
 
 " You have brought me to the happiest part of 
 my life," said I. " Don t fret about that, but doff 
 your riding-gear, and get ready for the savory 
 supper Mrs. Williams has prepared for us." 
 
 Edward was quite unwell for several days, and 
 my heart sank fathoms deep as I thought of his 
 coming down with the fever. But I believe his 
 illness was more of the mind than the body. He 
 could not but feel deeply the loss of the estate 
 which had descended from father to son for so 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 351 
 
 many generations, and of which he was now de 
 prived by no fault of his own ; but that was a 
 small matter, to one of his way of thinking, com 
 pared to his father s death, taken in the midst 
 of his sin. I was going to say, without one mo 
 ment for repentance ; but that would not be true, 
 seeing he had had a long life granted him wherein 
 to make his salvation sure. 
 
 As for myself, I won t deny that I was disap 
 pointed, though, as I said, poor Rebecca had pre 
 pared me in some measure for what happened. 
 No doubt she was knowing to the will. I could 
 not but wish to see my husband take his proper 
 place in the county, nor was I quite insensible to 
 the change that would have been made in my own 
 position had Edward succeeded to his rights. But, 
 after all, I was young and strong, and the work 
 was no such great hardship. So I did not fret 
 very much about that. Only on cold, sleety days, 
 when the path was slippery, and the barnyard 
 miry, and the butter was long in coming, or the 
 kitchen chimney smoked, I would think how 
 much pleasanter it would be to practise on my 
 harpsichord or sit at my knitting. But I soon 
 learned that such thoughts were unprofitable 
 guests, and I resolutely turned them out. 
 
 Edward had one great comfort, and that was 
 the change in Mr. Rowsori. Certainly I never 
 saw a man so altered. He never touched wine, or 
 even cider, saying that he dared not trust himself 
 with it. He took to studying his Bible, and reviv- 
 
352 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 ing his knowledge of Greek and Hebrew, for he 
 had once been a fine scholar. He preached every 
 Sunday, catechized the children, visited the poor 
 and the sick, and strove in every way to repair, if 
 he could not undo, the mischief he had done. 
 The only indulgence he allowed himself was his 
 music. He used the hundred pounds left him by 
 his patron in repairing the church - organ, and 
 found a good organist in the person of an old 
 gentleman in Biddeford, who was just about retir 
 ing to one of the almshouses in Exeter, but was 
 easily prevailed upon to accept a cottage in Stud- 
 ley and a small salary instead. Almost all the 
 folks hereabout are naturally musical ; and I do 
 think Mr. Rowson s choir, which he took great 
 pains in training, brought a good many to church, 
 where they certainly heard the gospel preached as 
 never before. Mr. Rowson was a frequent visitor 
 at our house, and used to have many deep argu 
 ments with Mrs. Williams concerning her peculiar 
 tenets (which I don t in the least understand, to 
 this day) ; but they always came together at last 
 on the New Testament, so they continued excellent 
 friends. 
 
 I had heard but twice from my aunt since my 
 marriage. The family was still in London, de 
 tained by my uncle s business, which, however, 
 was prospering, and he was in a way to retrieve 
 his losses. My aunt wrote that Betty was well in 
 health, but not in good spirits ; that she did not 
 care to go out, and missed her sister more than 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 353 
 
 ever. Betty s letter was written evidently in one 
 of her bad moods. She hated London and every 
 thing about it. Her mother would make her go 
 to the theatre and to balls and banquets, and she 
 had been obliged to leave off her mourning. She 
 only wished she were with me. I wished it, too, 
 and determined I would try to have a visit from 
 her when the family returned. 
 
 In my aunt s next letter she wrote that Betty 
 was in better spirits ; that she had been presented 
 at court and much admired, and the king had 
 taken great notice of her, which was an unusual 
 compliment from him nowadays, as his Majesty 
 was so engrossed with public business. My uncle 
 was like to recover all he had lost, and more, and 
 the family were coming home for Christmas, when 
 she hoped Mr. Studley would spare me for a visit. 
 Betty s letter was not a bit like herself. It was 
 long, and full of public news and accounts of the 
 balls she had attended, but not one word of her 
 self. The letter made me uncomfortable, I could 
 hardly tell why. I had never told my aunt any 
 particulars about our way of life, and I suppose 
 she thought my husband and myself were living 
 as we had expected to do. Now, however, by my 
 husband s advice, I wrote her the whole story. 
 The letter I received in reply was quite charac 
 teristic of my aunt s curiously mixed character. 
 Of course, she wrote, it was every one s duty to 
 be religious ; but there was no need of parading 
 one s religion, and it was a great pity Mr. Studley 
 
354 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 had offended his father by so doing. He ought to 
 have remembered that St. Paul became all things 
 to all men. There was no knowing how Ned 
 might have influenced his father for good if he 
 had only been more complying to the old gentle 
 man s humors ; but all young persons nowadays 
 seemed to think themselves wiser than their elders. 
 She little thought she was sending me to such a 
 life. Why had not Mr. Studley applied to Sir 
 Robert, who might have obtained for him a com 
 mission, or some place about the court, which 
 would at least have given me the position of a 
 lady ? She was glad to see that I was resigned to 
 my change of fortune, but she pitied me from her 
 heart. She only wished I had been as fortunate 
 as Betty was likely to be. 
 
 " So she hath a match in hand for Betty," said 
 my husband, returning me the letter. 
 
 " She will never make any match for Betty that 
 Betty does not like," I answered. " Betty is made 
 of different stuff from poor Meg. She is stronger 
 both in body and in will. She may break, but 
 she will not bend." 
 
 " But do you think your aunt would force on 
 Betty a match which she did not like?" asked 
 Edward. 
 
 " Yes, if she thought it for her good, .as she 
 says ; that is, if the man were rich or great, and 
 able to give Betty a grand position in the world. 
 That was all she thought of with Meg. When 
 Lord Chesterton first proposed for Meg, he was a 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 355 
 
 rake and an out-and-out infidel ; yet my aunt 
 accepted him eagerly, because, as I say, he was 
 rich and would make his wife a great lady. But 
 my aunt will never rule Betty as she did Meg." 
 
 " Then you do not think Margaret s heart was 
 in the match with Lord Chesterton ? " said my 
 husband. 
 
 " Not one bit," I answered. " As I look back 
 at it, I can see that Margaret felt she was dying 
 at any rate, and so it did not greatly matter. Af 
 terward, when she was ill at Cross Park, I believe 
 she really did come to love Lord Chesterton ; but 
 he was a changed man then. I never in my life 
 saw any one more altered. But I am sorry both 
 for my aunt and Betty if this matter comes to a 
 conflict, for neither will give way save at the last 
 extremity." 
 
 Our winter passed away quietly enough. I had 
 an urgent invitation to spend Christmas with my 
 aunt, who had returned home ; but my husband 
 could not well leave the farm, and travelling was 
 difficult in winter, so I declined. I had great 
 pleasure in sending my aunt a hamper of cream 
 cheese, butter, and other dairy products, the work 
 of my own hands, and was gratified in return by 
 a present of books, music, and working materials, 
 and from my uncle ten guineas in a pretty purse. 
 My uncle even wrote a few lines which were worth 
 more than the money. He said, that, while he 
 was sorry for Edward s misfortunes, he was glad 
 to learn that the young fellow had behaved like a 
 
356 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 man in standing by his colors, and he liked him 
 all the better. Any thing but these sneaks who 
 were ready to worship the Devil himself to curry 
 court favor. He hoped to be in a position to give 
 us some help before long, and meantime we must 
 keep up a good heart. This letter was a great 
 pleasure to me, for I was always fond of my uncle. 
 
 As I said, our winter passed quietly enough. 
 Dr. Kirton had really sent us the harpsichord, and 
 quite a library of old-fashioned music-books. I 
 found some time for practice ; and I amused my 
 self, and I hope did some good, by practising with 
 the choir, and instructing the school-children in 
 church music. Dr. Dean was not at all musical, 
 and the singing had been something dreadful, inso 
 much that the Sunday Mr. Rowson preached for 
 us I saw him privately stop his ears, and thought 
 he would have run out of church when the chil 
 dren upraised their voices in the psalm. 
 
 We heard from Mr. Rowson that Dr. Kirton did 
 not live at Studley, and that the Hall was shut up 
 and deserted, only that old Janey and her husband, 
 the gardener, lived in the kitchen. The house 
 always had the reputation of being " troubled," 
 that is to say, haunted, not only by the fateful 
 white owl, but by the spirit of a certain Moorish 
 lady whom some of the old freebooting Studleys had 
 brought home, and afterward deserted, or, as some 
 said, murdered. This poor lady s apparition used 
 to rise from the old well in one corner of the court, 
 into which tradition said she had been thrown, and 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 357 
 
 parade about the house in all her barbaric finery 
 on moonlight nights. I used to wish I could see 
 her, it black or copper-colored ghost would be such 
 a pleasing novelty ; but my husband says many of 
 the Turkish ladies are beautifully fair. Anyhow, 
 it was the general belief at Studley that Dr. Kirton 
 had not only seen this lady, but had also been 
 haunted by the spirit of his unfortunate sister, 
 who could not rest in her grave, but was always 
 coming to his bedside and adjuring him to burn 
 the unrighteous will. He left the care of the 
 estate to his attorney in Biddeford, and returned 
 to Bristol. 
 
 I well remember what a sweet spring evening 
 it was, when we received a most unexpected guest. 
 I had walked down to the red gate to meet my 
 husband, who was somewhat late in coming from 
 market. I was leaning over the gate to look down 
 the road, when I beheld a most forlorn, tired-look 
 ing woman, dragging herself up the hill. At first 
 I thought it was old Sally the hawker, who made 
 a practice of visiting us three or four times in a 
 season ; but, as the woman drew nearer, I saw she 
 was a much younger person. I could not see her 
 face under her deep hood, but there was something 
 in the figure that was strangely familiar. Seeing 
 how feeble she seemed, I hastened to meet her. 
 
 " You are very weary," I said. " Let me help 
 you to the gate, where there is a seat for you to 
 rest upon." (I had always a fancy for meeting 
 Edward at this gate, and he had made a nice bench 
 
358 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 for my accommodation.) The stranger accepted 
 my arm, and leaned on it heavily enough, till she 
 reached the seat, when she sank upon it as if 
 fainting. I hastily untied her hood, and pushed it 
 back from her face. What was my amazement 
 and even horror to recognize my cousin Betty ! 
 
 There was no one in sight, and I dared not leave 
 her lest she should fall to the ground. I was con 
 sidering what to do, when I heard my husband s 
 voice asking what was the matter. I never was 
 more glad to see him in my life, and that is saying 
 a great deal. 
 
 "How shall we get this poor thing to the 
 house ? " said I. 
 
 " The house," answered Edward doubtfully. 
 "Had we not better lay her in the barn first? 
 She may have the fever about her." 
 
 " The barn ! " said I scornfully. " Edward, it is 
 my cousin Betty; though what has brought her 
 here, I cannot guess. Don t stand staring there 
 like a moorland colt," I added sharply, for Ned 
 did indeed look like a statue of amazement. 
 " Hurry to the house ; and do you and Andrew 
 bring down the little mattress from the green room, 
 and a blanket. That will be the easiest way to 
 manage it. Tell Mrs. Williams to get the blue 
 room ready. And hurry back." 
 
 Ned went off without another word, he is very 
 good to mind, when I do take the command, and 
 the time did not seem long, even to me, till he 
 and Andrew were back with the mattress, which 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 359 
 
 they had laid on a shutter. Betty had partly 
 come to herself, but seemed unable to speak ; only, 
 as they tried to lift her, she moaned and grasped 
 my hand tightly. 
 
 " Don t be afraid, Betty," said I. " You are with 
 friends, and I won t leave you." 
 
 We carried her up-stairs, where Mrs. Williams 
 helped me to undress her ; and with much ado we 
 got her into bed, and persuaded her to swallow a 
 few spoonfuls of good broth. The fainting fit was 
 succeeded by hysterics, and that by bitter weep 
 ing. I did not try to make her talk, but coaxed 
 and soothed her, till at last she fell asleep; and 
 I went down to my husband. 
 
 "Well," said he, as I entered the kitchen, 
 " what does it all mean ? " 
 
 " I don t know, though I have a shrewd guess," 
 I answered. "I have not tried to make her 
 speak. She is fearfully exhausted. She must 
 have walked a long way, for her shoes are cut to 
 pieces." 
 
 "But you are sure it is your cousin," said Ned. 
 " You could hardly be mistaken, though she comes 
 in such a strange way." 
 
 " Mistaken ! " said I scornfully. " Do you think 
 I would not know you, though you were to fall 
 out of a comet, instead of riding home on old Sol- 
 dan?" 
 
 " I doubt it," answered my husband. " If I fell 
 out of a comet, I doubt I should be past recogni 
 tion by the time I reached you." 
 
360 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " Not you ! You would be on your feet in a min 
 ute, making an instructive reflection," I retorted. 
 " Come now and get your supper, for I know you 
 must be half starved, and then we will think what 
 is best to do." 
 
 We talked the matter over, and agreed that 
 nothing could be done till Betty was able to tell 
 her own story. I watched with her. She was 
 restless and moaning in her sleep till near morn 
 ing, when she grew quieter and seemed to fall into 
 a refreshing slumber. When she waked she was 
 quite herself, but so weak and exhausted that I 
 dared not let her talk ; only I asked her if her 
 mother knew where she was." 
 
 She shook her head. " No, no, and don t tell 
 her. Don t let her know. Hide me somewhere. 
 Dolly, I will never go back to marry that man 
 never." 
 
 " Hush, hush ! Don t excite yourself," said I. 
 "You are safe with me. But think, Betty, how 
 anxious your poor father and mother will be." 
 
 She seemed to soften at this. " Yes, I am sorry 
 for them. But I won t marry him. I may be lost 
 for this world and the next, but I will never marry 
 him." 
 
 " Many whom ? " I asked. 
 
 " That man, Mr. Cheney ; " and here she fell into 
 her fits again, and we had hard work to keep her 
 in bed. 
 
 "She must be crazy," said Edward, when I told 
 him. " Cheney s wife died last summer, I know ; 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 361 
 
 but surely your aunt would never give him her 
 only child." 
 
 " He is very rich," said I, " and he sees all the 
 best company in the county. Don t you remem 
 ber what my aunt said in her last letter, that 
 Mr. Cheney had a prospect of being raised to the 
 peerage ? " 
 
 " Yes, because he favored the king s policy ; but 
 surely that would have no weight with Sir Robert." 
 
 "It would have great weight with my aunt, 
 though ; and Sir Robert takes all she says and 
 does for gospel. But, Edward, ought we not to 
 let her friends know that she is safe ? They must 
 be in terrible suspense about her." 
 
 " I think so," answered my husband. " Rowson 
 is going to set out for Exeter to-morrow morning 
 early. I believe I will ride with him, and carry 
 the news myself." 
 
 I agreed that this would be the best way, and 
 so it was settled. By evening, Betty was quite 
 sensible, though still weak. She told me her 
 story, as far as she knew it herself. I had guessed 
 rightly. Mr. Cheney had proposed for her; and 
 her mother, dazzled by his immense wealth and 
 his prospects, had insisted on Betty s accepting him. 
 She refused ; and there had been, as I gathered, 
 a terrible scene between them, in which Betty, 
 goaded to desperation by her mother s calm persist 
 ence, had reproached her with being the cause of 
 Meg s death. I knew how Betty could go on, when 
 once roused, and could imagine more than she told 
 
3G2 Through Unknoivn Ways; or, 
 
 me. It ended with her being shut into her cham 
 ber, from which she escaped by climbing out of 
 the window. She had left her hat and gloves by the 
 side of a deep pond in the park, which had once 
 been a quarry-hole, and had then walked the 
 whole distance to my door. She had lost her purse 
 the second day, and had been obliged literally to 
 beg her way ; sleeping in barns and outhouses like 
 a gypsy beggar, and passing one night on the open 
 moor. It made me shudder to think of the dan 
 gers she had run. I asked her if she were not 
 frightened. 
 
 " No," she answered, " I don t know that I was. 
 I had but one thought, to get away, and come 
 to you. And I will never go back to marry that 
 man," she added, her eyes growing wild again. 
 "I will drown myself in earnest first." 
 
 " Surely your mother would never have forced 
 him upon you," said I. 
 
 Betty smiled bitterly. "Don t you know my 
 mother by this time ? " said she. u She would 
 marry me to Satan if he could make me a duchess, 
 and talk all the time about my good, yes, and 
 make me a present of religious books for my closet 
 at the same moment. I tell you, Dolly, only for 
 my remembrance of Meg, I would throw over all 
 religion as folly and delusion. But I love to 
 think her happy, though I shall never see her." 
 
 " You must not say that," I said ; " why should 
 you not see her?" 
 
 Betty only shook her head sadly ; and I was too 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 363 
 
 much afraid of exciting her, to pursue the subject. 
 She was really very ill ; and Dr. Dean, who had 
 some knowledge of medicine, thought she would 
 have a course of low fever, though he did not 
 apprehend any danger. 
 
 My husband returned from Lady Court the 
 third day. He reported that my aunt seemed 
 greatly relieved to find that Betty was not 
 drowned, as they all believed at first ; but she 
 was very bitter, saying that Betty had disgraced 
 herself and her family by her escapade, and she, 
 for one, never wished to see her face again. Let 
 her bake as she had brewed. Sir Robert was 
 more lenient. He thought they had been hard on 
 the girl, who was high-spirited like himself. She 
 had better stay where she was for the present, if 
 we would consent to keep her ; and perhaps, after 
 a while, things might be arranged. Indeed, he 
 had never so greatly liked the match, but thought 
 his wife knew best. 
 
 Edward remarked that Betty would have to 
 stay where she was for the present, as she was 
 very ill from fatigue and exposure. 
 
 "Why, how was she exposed?" asked my 
 uncle. 
 
 Edward told the story of Betty s journey, at 
 which Sir Robert broke down and wept, swore 
 she was his own spunky girl, and he only wished 
 she were a boy instead of a maid. He ended by 
 sending Betty a kind message and some money, 
 promising that she should not be pressed to marry 
 
364 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 any one, and saying he would ride over and see 
 her some day. 
 
 But my aunt was not to be pacified. She was, 
 indeed, wounded in her most susceptible part, 
 her respect for the opinion of the world. The 
 story had taken wing already that Betty had 
 drowned herself to avoid a marriage with Mr. 
 Cheney, to whom she was betrothed. All Exeter 
 was ringing with it. And now it must be contra 
 dicted, and some tale made up, which, after all, 
 nobody would believe. No, she had brought last 
 ing disgrace on all belonging to her. 
 
 " I shall never hold up my head again," she 
 repeated ; and then, weeping, " What have I ever 
 done, that I should be so unfortunate in my chil 
 dren? My only consolation is that I have done 
 every thing possible for their good." 
 
 And I believe she really thought so. She did 
 every thing for the best, though she was so terribly 
 mistaken as to what that best was. 
 
 Finally, my aunt was won by my husband to 
 send her daughter a message. She forgave her 
 all the pain she had caused her, but she did not 
 wish to see her at present. When Betty was well, 
 she had perhaps better go to her aunt Laneham 
 at Bristol, where Mr. Laneham had gotten some 
 perferment at the cathedral. Her residing in the 
 family of a beneficed clergyman might do some 
 thing toward restoring to her the character she 
 had lost. Sharpless should send her some neces 
 sary clothes. 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 365 
 
 Betty smiled sorrowfully when she received the 
 message, but seemed to care little about the mat 
 ter. She lay for several weeks very ill, but re 
 covered her strength after a while ; though she has 
 always been slightly lame, from the effects of her 
 exposure. She began by and by to go about the 
 house and to help me in various ways; but I 
 could not get her to go to church, and hardly any 
 thing could draw a smile from her. At last, 
 however, we won her confidence, and she opened 
 her heart to us. On her first going to London, 
 she had been very unwilling to go to the theatre 
 or the opera, having made up her mind that these 
 tilings were wrong and unbecoming a Christian, 
 and that if, as she said, there was any thing in 
 religion, one s life should be passed in a course of 
 good and pious works. She had been greatly 
 strengthened in this idea by three or four Roman 
 Catholic books which fell in her way. Indeed, I 
 believe they were given her by Queen Mary her 
 self, who took a great liking to her. Betty said 
 she would have become a Romanist, and gone into 
 a convent, only there were a few things she could 
 not get over ; and, above all, she could not make 
 up her mind to think that dear Margaret was lost 
 forever. The king himself had condescended to 
 argue with Betty ; and if his Majesty had not in 
 sisted on this point with the stupid obstinacy which 
 always distinguished him, poor man ! I dare say he 
 would have won her over. But by little and lit 
 tle, as Betty said, she was led on to go against her 
 
366 Through Unknown Ways ; or, 
 
 conscience, and to take pleasure in what she felt 
 all the time were sinful amusements, till at last 
 she lost all peace and hope, and came to believe 
 that there was nothing left her but a fearful judg 
 ment. She thought that she had never possessed 
 any true love for God, and was altogether a rep 
 robate. 
 
 "Well," said my husband, when she paused. 
 x What are you going to do about it ? " ft 
 
 Betty looked at him in surprise. u What do 
 you mean?" she asked. u What can I do about 
 it?" 
 
 " Supposing you to have been the sinner you 
 represent yourself, there are two courses open to 
 you," said my husband. "You may go on sin 
 ning against your heavenly Father, insulting his 
 love and mercy, and defying him to the bitter end ; 
 or you may come to him in all humility and re 
 pentance, confessing your sins, and asking forgive 
 ness through him who hath said, He that cometh 
 to me I will in no wise cast out, and then 
 spending the rest of your life humbly in his ser 
 vice and to his glory. You have the choice of 
 these two ways. Which will you do ? " 
 
 Betty looked very doubtful. " But I never can 
 go back and marry that man, even if he would 
 have me, which I doubt." 
 
 " So do I, seeing he hath already married sonic 
 one else," answered my husband. " I would nut 
 say you are bound to do so in any case, though 
 I do think you ought to ask your mother s for- 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 367 
 
 giveness for the pain you caused her by your 
 pretended suicide. It was a wicked piece of de 
 ception, and I don t wonder your conscience is 
 oppressed." 
 
 Betty colored. It is one thing to call yourself 
 a lost sinner, and another to have particular sins 
 brought home to you by somebody else. She 
 began to excuse herself, but broke off, and at last 
 owned frankly that it was very wrong. 
 
 " But I had not thought so much about that as 
 about my life in London," said she, " all those 
 worldly compliances. 
 
 " You should have treated them as Meg did, 
 as so many crosses, and then they would have 
 done you no harm," said I. " They did not hurt 
 Margaret. Or, if you thought them wrong, you 
 could have told your mother so in gentle and 
 respectful language." 
 
 " I know I did not do right in any thing, either 
 in refusing or giving way," answered Betty; "but 
 O Dolly, I was hard bestead, and I had no one to 
 help me." 
 
 " Except God," added my husband. " That is 
 a grave exception. But we will admit all that, 
 Betty. You have been a great sinner, like all the 
 rest of us, and your only hope is in the unde 
 served mercy of God. You can make no amends 
 to him." 
 
 " That is the worst of it," said Betty. 
 
 " No, my maid, that is the best of it," replied 
 Edward. " You can do nothing, and there is no 
 
368 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 need that you should, since One hath done all for 
 you." 
 
 And with that he went on to set before Betty 
 the plan of our redemption, all its freeness and 
 fulness, as he had once set it before me. But I 
 think it was harder for Betty to take it in than it 
 had been for me. One day we were sitting in the 
 porch with our spinning, for she was bent upon 
 learning all sorts of country arts, and I had 
 taught her to spin as Mrs. Williams had taught 
 me. Betty was very sad and not inclined to talk, 
 and I did not urge her. We were sitting thus, 
 when old Alice Yeo came for her jug of milk. She 
 was a good old body, who lived in a little cottage 
 on the farm, and eked out a living by the help of 
 the church dole and what little she could earn by 
 spinning and knitting. She was lame, and seldom 
 came so far as our house, generally sending by one 
 of the schoolgirls, who were very kind to her. 
 
 " Why, Goody, this is a wonder ! " said I, rising 
 to help her up the step and give her a seat. " You 
 don t often walk so far." 
 
 "No, mistress; but the fine day tempted me, 
 and I thought I would like to see the place once 
 more. Mussy, how the myrtle-trees have grown, 
 to be sure ! Great trees they be now ; but I 
 remember well when Mary Lee and I planted them, 
 when she came here a bride, sixty years and more 
 agone. Ay, and she planted yonder pinks, too, 
 that very time. 1 A sweet and gracious maid she 
 
 1 1 know of a bed of pinks which was planted a hundred and 
 thirty years ago. 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 369 
 
 was, and a dutiful wife ; but she did not live long : 
 she died with her first babe." 
 
 " Poor thing ! " said Betty. 
 
 " Oh, you need not pity her, my lamb ! She 
 died happy, yes, rejoicing, and she saw the room 
 full of angels. I was with her, and it was like a 
 look into heaven. No, no, you needn t pity her. 
 She went to her rest sixty years ago, and I have 
 lived to bury husband and children and all. But 
 you need not pity me, neither," she added, with 
 the sweet, tremulous smile of gracious old age. 
 " I will soon be at home ; and then it won t mat 
 ter whether the way thither was long or short, 
 rough or smooth : twill be home all the same. 
 Mistress, could you spare me ere a bit of honey 
 now? My cough gets troublesome of nights 
 again, and the honey and hyssop do seem to 
 loosen it like." 
 
 I brought her the honey, and some other little 
 matters I had laid aside for her, and sent Peggy 
 home with her to carry her jug down the hill. 
 When I came back to my seat, Betty was gazing 
 abroad over the sea. She was silent a little, and* 
 then said abruptly, 
 
 " Dolly, I would give sight and hearing and all 
 I possess, to be as happy as that old woman." 
 
 " You have no need to give any of these things," 
 I answered ; " you have only to give up self. Tell 
 me honestly, Betty, is it not some cherished sin 
 that keeps you back from peace ? something you 
 know you ought to do, and will not do ? " 
 
370 Through Unknotvn Ways; or, 
 
 Betty withdrew her eyes from the sea, and fixed 
 them on her spinning. 
 
 " You think I ought to write to my mother and 
 beg her pardon," said she, after a little silence. 
 
 " Yes," I answered, " and so do you." 
 
 Her color rose. " Oh, yes, of course ! " said she. 
 " You think I should say I am sorry I did not 
 please her by marrying that man." 
 
 I began to lose patience. "Betty, you know 
 better," said I. " Mr. Cheney is married already, 
 so there is no question of that. You know that 
 by your own showing you used very unbecoming 
 and even cruel language to your mother. You 
 ought to beg her pardon for that, and for the still 
 more cruel deception you played upon her and 
 your father, by making them believe you were 
 drowned." 
 
 " But my mother was wrong in trying to force 
 me into a match with a man I disliked. Even 
 you admit that, Dolly," said Betty. 
 
 " Two wrongs do not make a right," I answered. 
 "Your business is not with what your mother 
 did, but what you did ; and I tell you plainly, that 
 till you forgive your mother, and ask her to pardon 
 you, you have no right to expect peace or even 
 forgiveness. If I regard iniquity in my heart, 
 the Lord will not hear me. Pride and anger and 
 the peace of this world cannot dwell together, 
 much more the peace of God." 
 
 I went away and left her to think of my words, 
 nor did I encourage her to talk further about the 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 371 
 
 matter. Two or three days afterward she was in 
 her room nearly all day. At night she brought 
 me a letter, and asked me to read it. 
 
 " No, I would rather not," said I. " Write such 
 a letter as you think will be pleasing to your 
 heavenly Father, and then it will be sure to be 
 right." 
 
 She thought a little, and then, taking up the 
 letter, she tore it to pieces. I heard her moving 
 several times in the night. In the morning she 
 brought me another letter, sealed this time, and 
 asked Edward to have it sent. He held her hand 
 a moment as he took it, and looked into her face. 
 
 " It is all right now," said he. 
 
 " I hope so," she answered, smiling, though her 
 eyes were moist ; " but oh, it has been a hard fight, 
 and I fear all is not yet won." 
 
 " I dare say not," my husband answered. " Such 
 battles often have to be fought many times over, 
 and Satan never attacks us with more vehemence 
 than when we have just humbled ourselves to 
 some fellow sinner." 
 
 "I suppose that is true," said Betty; "but in 
 truth, cousin, I never tried it many times. I 
 don t know that I ever did unless I were forced 
 to it." 
 
 " I know. You and Meg were different in that," 
 said I. " She was always ready to ask pardon, 
 even when she was the least to blame." 
 
 " We were different in every respect, except for 
 the love we bore each other," said Betty, sighing. 
 
372 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 "I know when we had a difference, and I had 
 been far the most in fault, she would ask me to 
 forgive her. But, cousin, will you send this letter 
 for me ? " 
 
 " That I will gladly," he answered ; and, it 
 being market-day, he posted it that very morning. 
 The answer was not long in coming. I watched 
 Betty with some anxiety as she read it, and saw 
 her color rise, and her eyes fill with tears. When 
 she had finished, she handed it to me. My aunt 
 said that, as Betty had asked for forgiveness, she 
 must grant it, of course. She supposed Betty was 
 weary of her rustication, and wished to come home, 
 but that could not be at present. If she were 
 tired of the country, she could go to her aunt 
 Laneham at Bristol, who would no doubt receive 
 her. 
 
 Betty had gone to her own room, leaving the 
 letter with me. I handed it to Edward with an 
 expression of indignation. 
 
 " It is a cruel letter," said I ; " and not like my 
 aunt at all. She was formerly always ready to 
 forgive, when any one made submission." 
 
 " I can read between the lines," answered Ed 
 ward. "Your aunt s conscience is uneasy. She 
 knows she has been wrong herself, and she has not 
 the courage to say as much, so she takes it out in 
 this way. She will come to a better mind, after 
 a while. I am glad Betty is here, and not at 
 home." 
 
 " She seems very contented," said I. " How 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 373 
 
 handily she takes to every sort of work ! It seems 
 as though she had found her true vocation." 
 
 " Like somebody else I know," returned my 
 husband. " What a farmer s dame had been lost 
 to the world, Dolly, if you had married a great 
 man ! " 
 
 The summer wore on very quietly. We had a 
 visit from my uncle, who staid with us two or 
 three days, and seemed to enjoy his visit. My 
 aunt wrote to Betty by him in a much more kindly 
 strain, making no allusion to her fault, and send 
 ing her a pretty present. She said nothing, how 
 ever, about Betty s coming home, nor did Sir 
 Robert encourage it, for the present. Betty sent 
 her mother a pair of fine hose of her own spin 
 ning and knitting, and received a kind note in 
 reply ; but still nothing was said about her going 
 home. 
 
 But it soon became apparent that Betty was 
 likely to have a home of her own, unless some 
 body interfered to prevent. Mr. Rowson had 
 admired her very much from the first. After a 
 while, they came to an understanding; and the 
 next time Sir Robert came over, he made propo 
 sals for Betty s hand. He was very well to do. 
 His living was a good one for those parts, and he 
 had quite a nice little private fortune. His family 
 was respectable ; and, though there was a good 
 deal of difference in their ages, it was on the right 
 side. 
 
 I could see at once that Sir Robert was taken 
 
374 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 with Mr. Rowson. He talked with Betty in pri 
 vate, and also with Edward and me, and assured 
 Mr. Rowson that his good word should not be 
 wanting to his suit. 
 
 " I fear her mother will not be pleased at Betty s 
 marrying a parson," remarked my uncle to me at 
 parting ; " but I will do my best to persuade her, 
 and the maid shall have her way. Methinks we 
 have made enough of sacrifices to the world, 
 which will never make any for us." 
 
 "Nor for any one else," remarked Edward. 
 " The world is a bad paymaster." 
 
 "I believe you are right, nephew," said my 
 uncle thoughtfully. "I shall always think that 
 last season in London was the death of poor Meg. 
 I would not say so to her mother, since she acted 
 for the best ; but I believe if the maid had staid 
 quietly at home, she might have been alive now. 
 Well, good-by, young folks, and God bless you ! 
 My wife pities your lot, but I must say you 
 appear as well to do as anybody I know. I shall 
 never forget your kindness to my poor daughter. 
 And between ourselves, I would, for my own 
 part, a hundred times rather see Betty wed to 
 an honest fellow like Rowson, country parson 
 though he be, than to Cheney, who hath got his 
 peerage by declaring himself a Papist. I don t 
 know what the world is coming to, for my part. 
 I have always stood by Church and king, but as 
 things are going now But there, I must not 
 stay longer, or I shall be benighted on the moor. 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 375 
 
 Keep up a good heart, Bess. It will all come 
 right in time." 
 
 Contrary to all our expectations, my aunt made 
 no objections to the match, but gave her consent 
 and blessing without delay. In fact, I think she 
 was very glad that she had an opening for a rec 
 onciliation. She would have Betty married from 
 home, and we must all go to the wedding. It was 
 in the farmer s holiday, between haying and har 
 vest, and we were not afraid to leave our matters 
 in such good hands as those of Mrs. Williams and 
 Andrew. My aunt received us with the greatest 
 kindness; and no one would have guessed, from her 
 manner, that Betty had not been away on an ordi 
 nary visit. Perhaps it was the best way on the 
 whole. 
 
 Mr. Rowson had a cousin living in Exeter, the 
 dowager Lady Peckham, who was well-jointured 
 and much respected ; though she went little into 
 society, and was accounted a bit of a Puritan. 
 I think this connection did something to reconcile 
 my aunt to the match. Lady Peckham was at 
 the wedding, as were also the bishop and his lady, 
 and Mr. Studley s old friend Lady Clarenham : so 
 it was quite a grand affair. I don t think all the 
 parade was to Betty s taste ; but her mother would 
 have it so, and Betty gave way to her in every thing, 
 as was but right. It must have been rather pleas 
 ing to her to hear the reprobation which was poured 
 from every side on my Lord Viscount Cheney (I 
 know it was to me), but she made no sign thereof. 
 
376 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 Lord Cheney was in London, in great favor at 
 court, where the king was going from bad to 
 worse. His Majesty was at open feud with both 
 the universities, and the clergy (even those who 
 had been most active in preaching passive obedi 
 ence to the worst of kings) took sides with their 
 colleges. It makes so very much difference 
 whether it is yourself or somebody else that is to 
 be passively obedient. The king had an army en 
 camped on Hounslow Heath, for the purpose, as 
 was said, of overawing the city, which was not 
 overawed at all, but only enraged. The Dissenters 
 were openly courted, and some of them even 
 appeared in court ; but the leaders among them, 
 like Mr. Baxter and Dr. Bates, stood aloof, and 
 made no response to the king s advances. The 
 Bishop of Exeter still clung to the hope that mat 
 ters would be accommodated, but his clergy were 
 open enough in their expressions of discontent; and 
 the dean had declared plainly that the Prince of 
 Orange, Calvinist as he was, would be better than 
 the rule of the Jesuits, which was what every 
 one thought we were coming to. 
 
 It was like coming into a new world to me, who 
 had lived so quietly for the past year and more. 
 I must say I found it very amusing for a little ; 
 but I soon tired of the bustle and fuss, and was 
 not a bit sorry to get back to my quiet home 
 again. Betty was to make a little visit at home, 
 and then to Mr. Rowson s old mother, who lived 
 not far from Bath. We employed the time of her 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 377 
 
 absence in putting the parsonage in nice order, and 
 disposing therein the furniture my uncle sent over. 
 The house was a good one, though not large ; but 
 Mr. Rowson s housekeeping had been but slack, 
 even for a bachelor, and such a looking place I 
 never saw as Mrs. Williams and I found when we 
 went over. By good luck, the old housekeeper 
 went off in dudgeon at the news of her master s 
 marriage : so we had the place to ourselves, and 
 soon put it in nice order. Peggy s eldest sister 
 had grown tired of living in a town, and had come 
 home. She was a staid, capable body, and was 
 glad to get a service near her mother, who was 
 growing old : so we installed her in the kitchen, 
 with a little maiden from the school under her ; 
 and, when Betty came home, she found every thing 
 in readiness, even to the supper. 
 
 I think she has always been happy in her new 
 life. She takes great interest in parish matters, 
 and hath set up a good school which she superin 
 tends herself; though her two babes, which might 
 almost as well be twins, give her plenty to do. 
 Her mother has visited her more than once, and 
 they are the best of friends. Betty has never told 
 her what she told Edward and me, that Mr. Row- 
 son refused the offer of being a minor canon at 
 Exeter, which came to him shortly after his mar 
 riage. 
 
 " It would only vex her," said she, " and what 
 is the use ? I can tell you, Dolly, since I had that 
 one to deal with," pointing to her elder child, who 
 
378 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 is a little pickle, " I begin to understand what 
 I owe to my mother. I think she mistook in 
 many things ; but, as I call to mind her kindness 
 and self-sacrifice and patience, I cannot too deeply 
 repent my own perverseness." 
 
 " In not marrying Lord Cheney ? " said I mis 
 chievously. 
 
 " You know better than that," she answered, 
 laughing. " I would not change my poor parson 
 for any lordling in the land, much less for him 
 whom I always hated. But I might have refused 
 in a different manner ; and I can see, in a hundred 
 instances, how I set myself up against my mother 
 merely for the sake of contradiction. Yes, indeed, 
 Mrs. Peggy, there, has opened my eyes to a great 
 many things I never should have seen but for 
 her." 
 
 But I am spinning out my story so long that I 
 fear none of my descendants will have the patience 
 to read it. We lived at the farm for a year longer, 
 prospering on the whole ; though we had to work 
 hard for what we got, and had our ups and downs 
 like other folks. We heard nothing from Dr. 
 Kirton, except that his agent had raised all the 
 rents and exacted them pitilessly. Dr. Kirton 
 himself never came near the Hall, which was now 
 quite shut up and deserted ; for Janey s husband 
 had died, and she would not stay alone, and no 
 one else could be found to brave the terrors of the 
 ghosts, which, according to the old servants and 
 tenants, made a parade-ground of the Hall. Janey 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 379 
 
 came to us and took up her abode with old Alice, 
 who was altagether bedridden and needed some 
 one to wait on her. 
 
 As I said, we lived on quietly, and heard only 
 distant echoes of the storm which was muttering 
 and gathering at home and abroad. When my 
 husband rode to Biddeford market, he generally 
 brought home the " Gazette," which, however, 
 told us little, being under such close censorship, 
 and two or three news-letters lent him by Master 
 Gifford. From them we heard of the stirring 
 events in London, of the Declaration of Indul 
 gence, the arrest of the bishops and their acquittal, 
 and the mad conduct of the king and his Jesuit 
 advisers, which men said were by no mean ap 
 proved by the Pope. 
 
 I had ridden to Biddeford with my husband, 
 and was busy in Master Gifford s shop, selecting 
 some household matters, and talking with our 
 good old friend and his wife, when a foreign look 
 ing man, with the unmistakable gait of a sailor, 
 came in and asked for Master Gifford. 
 
 " I am Master Gifford, at your service," said the 
 merchant. 
 
 Now, a foreign sailor is no sight at all in Bidde 
 ford, and I turned away carelessly enough to 
 speak to my husband who had just come in. 
 At the sound of his voice, the stranger turned 
 hastily around. 
 
 "Ned!" said he with a curious tremor in his 
 voice ; " surely this is Edward Studley." 
 
380 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " Edward Studley, at your service, sir," said my 
 husband ; but in a moment his face changed, and 
 he looked like one who saw a ghost. 
 
 " Don t you know me, Ned ? " said the stranger. 
 " I should have known you, had I met you in 
 Barbary." 
 
 " If a man can rise from the dead, this is my 
 uncle Philip," exclaimed Edward, catching him 
 by the hand. " Is it really you in substance of 
 the body?" 
 
 " Even as you see," said the sailor, with a mighty 
 shake of the hand, which left no doubt of his 
 corporeal substance. " It is Philip Bassett him 
 self, escaped not from death, but from long cap 
 tivity, well nigh as hopeless as death." 
 
 It may be guessed what a welcome we gave to 
 our uncle, whom every one had mourned as dead. 
 There was not room for many words, for we had 
 to be on our way home. Mr. Bassett looked sur 
 prised when we took the road to Applecoombe. 
 
 " How is this ? " said he. " This was not the 
 road to Studley in my time." 
 
 " Nor is it now," answered Edward. " We are 
 living at Applecoombe." 
 
 "At Applecoombe," repeated uncle Philip. 
 "What, you have parted company with the old 
 gentleman at last! Well, no one can blame 
 you." 
 
 " My father is dead," said Edward briefly. 
 
 Mr. Bassett said no more, but began asking 
 about different neighbors as we passed one house 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 381 
 
 and another on the road. It was not till we were 
 seated by ourselves after supper, that he began 
 again. 
 
 " But if your father is dead, Ned, how does it 
 happen that you are living here ? Why are you 
 not on your own estate ? " 
 
 " Because I have no estate," answered Edward. 
 My father disinherited me, and left all his property 
 to his second wife and her brother. He gave me 
 nothing but my black horse, and my mother s old 
 harpsichord." 
 
 " Disinherited you ! " exclaimed uncle Philip. 
 " He could no more disinherit you than he could 
 the king of England. The whole estate belonged 
 to you by your grandfather s will, though your 
 father had the use of it for his life without re 
 serve." 
 
 Edward colored high. "How did it happen that 
 I never knew that ? " he asked. 
 
 " By the terms of the will the matter was to be 
 kept secret till you were five and twenty," an 
 swered Mr. Bassett. "I don t know that your 
 father was obliged to tell you even tl^en, though 
 that was certainly implied. I wonder old Mr. 
 Winne, the lawyer in Exeter, did not advise you 
 how matters stood." 
 
 " The old gentleman died before my father, who 
 took his business out of Mr. Winne s hands some 
 years before," answered Edward ; " naturally young 
 Winne did not care to meddle in the matter 
 unasked. But are you sure ? " 
 
382 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 " As sure as that I sit here," replied Mr. Bassett. 
 " My father was one of the witnesses to the will. 
 Kirton hath no more right to the estate than my 
 old master in Tripoli." 
 
 " We must look into the matter," said my hus 
 band. "To-morrow, if you are able, we will ride 
 to Exeter and take council with Mr. Winne, who 
 hath his father s business, and is an honest man. 
 But now tell us of your adventures. Were you 
 really a slave in Tripoli ? " 
 
 " That I was for five long years, and might be 
 to this day, only that my master took me to sea 
 with him. We were wrecked off Sardinia, and 
 my poor master was drowned. He was a kind, 
 charitable old man, and made my life as easy as 
 might be. The ship was got off, but I slipped 
 overboard in the confusion, and swam to the shore. 
 There I abode for near a year longer, till I got a 
 chance to ship for Marseilles, where I found an 
 English vessel, and worked my way home, without 
 a tester in my pocket, not like the uncle in the 
 story-book, who comes home with his pouch full 
 of gold, yoji see, niece." 
 
 " You have brought news which is better than 
 gold," I answered ; "and if you had brought noth 
 ing but yourself you would be more than wel 
 come." My husband had left the room at some 
 call from Andrew, and I took the chance to tell 
 Mr. Bassett how Edward had gone to Turkey to 
 look for him, having heard that he had been seen 
 in Constantinople. 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 383 
 
 "Ay, that was like Ned," said Mr. Bassett. 
 "But why did his father cast him off at last?" 
 
 "Because he was bewitched, I think," I an 
 swered, and told him the story. 
 
 " Ay, so," he said thoughtfully. " As there is 
 nothing so good as a good woman, so I believe 
 there is nothing so bad as a wicked woman. But 
 we shall soon set all to rights now. Kirton will 
 not have a leg to stand on. I doubt if he shows 
 any fight at all." 
 
 The next day my husband and his uncle rode to 
 Exeter, found Mr. Wmne, and examined the will. 
 It was so perfectly explicit that there was no room 
 for mistake. The proper steps were taken; and, 
 as Mr. Bassett had predicted, no opposition was 
 made. Indeed, Dr. Kirton never made his appear 
 ance at all, but fled from Bristol, where he had 
 contrived to victimize a good many people. Even 
 his attorney at Biddeford lost money by him, or 
 so he said ; though people in general were of the 
 opinion that he had feathered his own nest pretty 
 well, and some did not scruple to say that he had 
 known the truth all along. 
 
 It may be guessed with what feelings we re 
 paired to Studley Hall to take possession of our 
 rights. Great depredations had taken place by 
 cutting of timber and the like, and both Edward 
 and Mr. Bassett groaned over the loss of favorite 
 trees. There had even been a threat at one time 
 of pulling down the Hall, but it had not been car 
 ried out; and the old house stood safe and stately 
 
384 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 in its grove of nut-trees. How strange it seemed 
 to walk freely through the rooms and the garden, 
 and feel that they were all our own ! In turning 
 out the room where poor Rebecca died, I discovered 
 in a secret cupboard in the wall some valuable 
 jewels and quite a sum of money. I had no mind 
 to profit by the poor thing s riches, which might 
 be, for aught I knew, the wages of iniquity ; and, 
 with my husband s approval, I gave them all to 
 Mr. Rowson, to be laid out on the new school- 
 house which was then a-building. 
 
 As misfortunes never come single, so good for 
 tune sometimes hath its flood tides; and thus it 
 was with us. The poor old Hall needed a deal of 
 repairing to make it comfortable, or even habit 
 able, but where was the money to come from? 
 As may : be guessed, Kirton had left no money 
 behind him. We were considering the matter of 
 ways and means, when I received a letter from 
 London with surprising intelligence. Mr. Harpe, 
 the attorney to whom my mother had intrusted 
 her little all, was dead, and had left me by will 
 seven hundred pounds, and a house at Hackney. 
 I was never more surprised in my life. His 
 nephew, who was also his heir and executor, 
 wished me to come to London, and attend to 
 the business which must be gone through. The 
 young man wrote very politely, I must say, and 
 enclosed funds to pay the expenses of the jour 
 ney. 
 
 " How in the world came this man to leave 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 385 
 
 you such a little fortune?" asked Edward, 
 when I gave him the letter. "What was he to 
 you?" * 
 
 " A thief and a robber," I answered. " Don t 
 you remember my telling you the story of my 
 poor mother s little property, which was put into 
 his hands?" 
 
 " Well, he hath restored it two-fold, at least," 
 said my husband. 
 
 "Small thanks to him for restoring what he 
 could no longer keep," I answered. " My thanks 
 are due to God and to this man s honest executor, 
 but not at all to him, that I can see. What shall 
 we do about it ? It is not a very convenient time 
 for you to leave home." 
 
 " And I suppose you will not go without me," 
 said Edward; "not even with uncle Philip for 
 escort." 
 
 "That I won t," I answered. "Don t flatter 
 yourself that you are going to get off so easily 
 as that. Uncle Philip may stay and see to the 
 farm, and protect Mrs. Williams from the Irish, 
 who so haunt her imagination." 
 
 There was great talk, about this time, of the 
 Irish whom the king was bringing over to recruit 
 his army, and stragglers from the new levies were 
 straying about the country. Much more to be 
 pitied than feared they were, for the most part, 
 poor things ! for they could speak hardly any 
 English, and the people feared and hated them 
 in equal proportion. A couple of them had 
 
386 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 come as far out of the way as Applecoombe, and 
 had asked for food humbly enough, poor fellows ! 
 and Edwtrd, finding them willing to work, and 
 apt to learn, had found them something to do 
 about the farm. They had not shown the least 
 evil disposition during the few days they had been 
 with us. On the contrary, they had shown them 
 selves very grateful for their rations of brown bread 
 and buttermilk, and their beds of clean straw in a 
 shed. But Mrs. Williams would not be persuaded 
 that they were not the advance-guard of a band 
 of marauders coming to murder us. Ts T or did she 
 seem much consoled when Mr. Rowson, who loves 
 to tease her, reminded her that if it were settled 
 in the immutable decrees that she was to be mur 
 dered by wild Irishmen, the sending away of Den 
 nis and Patrick O Finnegan would do nothing to 
 reverse it. However, they have staid with us to 
 this day, and have never yet murdered any one, or 
 done any harm, except by their blunders now and 
 then. 
 
 Well, it was finally settled that we were to go 
 to London by sea, from Exmouth, with a captain 
 whom Edward knew, leaving uncle Philip and 
 Andrew to garrison the farmhouse, and protect 
 Mrs. Williams. We set out about the middle of 
 September, visiting my uncle by the way, and re 
 ceiving from my aunt a string of commissions for 
 matters from the London shops. We had rather 
 a stormy voyage, but finally arrived in safety 
 about the first of October, and took lodgings near 
 
Mrs. Dudley s Diary. 387 
 
 my Lady Corbet s old house, with a widow lady 
 with whom I had some acquaintance. 
 
 When we discovered what a scene of excitement 
 and confusion we were come into, we almost 
 wished ourselves at home again. It had now be 
 come an open secret that a number of peers, spirit 
 ual and temporal, had united in an invitation to 
 the Prince of Orange, who was making great 
 preparations for invading England. The king, 
 who for a long time had treated with contempt 
 the warnings of King Louis and his other friends 
 on the Continent, had become suddenly awake to 
 his danger, had dismissed some of his advisers, and 
 ordered others to keep out of the way, and had 
 thus late in the day brought forward proofs oi 
 the legitimacy of the poor little baby Prince of 
 Wales, which nobody believed in any the more for 
 all his pains. It was a little curious, by the way, 
 that he who had taken so much pains to throw 
 doubts on the legitimacy of his first wife s children 
 should have so much trouble in proving the birth 
 of this child. Every one, even those who have 
 since been bitterly opposed to him, was praying 
 for a favorable wind for the prince. The fruit 
 and flower girls made their profit of the occasion ; 
 for oranges were bought at any price the venders 
 chose to ask, and every man who could procure 
 one had some kind of yellow flower in his hat or 
 button-hole, while orange ribbons and orange 
 plumes were flaunted in the park under the very 
 nose of the king. 
 
388 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 We found the younger Mr. Harpe to be a very 
 sober young gentleman, disposed to do every thing 
 in his power for those whom his uncle had wronged. 
 The man had been worse than I had ever supposed ; 
 for it turned out, upon examination, that Mrs. 
 Price had actually left to my mother a house 
 worth at least two hundred pounds, and the same 
 amount in money ; so that, after all, Mr. Harpe 
 had left me only my exact due. Mr. John Harpe 
 insisted on paying interest for Mrs. Price s legacy, 
 and, indeed, showed himself in every thing as 
 honest and open-handed as his uncle had been 
 the reverse. But there is always more or less de 
 lay in all legal proceedings ; and one week dragged 
 on after another, and still we were kept in town. 
 Oh, how I did hate the dirt and the smoke and the 
 smells, and long for a breath of Devon air and a 
 good drink of Devon milk ! 
 
 I did not forget my aunt s commissions; and, 
 going out one day about some of them, I made my 
 way to Mr. Jackson s shop, where I found Ursula 
 behind the desk. She looked old and worn, and 
 her fretful expression had grown upon her. She 
 pretended not to recognize me at first; and, when 
 I made myself known to her, she affected great sur 
 prise at seeing me in town, and asked what had 
 brought me. I told her I had come up with my 
 husband to look after some property which had 
 fallen to me. 
 
 " Oh, so you are married, after all ! " said she ; 
 " and who is the happy man ? " 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 889 
 
 " Mr. Studley of Studley Hall in North Devon," 
 I told her. 
 
 " What ! he who was my Lady Clarenham s gen 
 tleman-usher ? I wonder your aunt should have 
 allowed you to make such a match as that. But 
 I suppose after her own daughter went to the 
 bad" She saw something in my face, I sup 
 pose, and she checked herself with, " But perhaps, 
 after all, it was not so bad as people said." 
 
 "I don t know what you mean, or what people 
 say," I answered warmly ; " I know that my cousin 
 is most respectably and happily married, arid living 
 in her own house, if you call that going to the 
 bad. But you are just the same Ursula, I see, 
 always with a wonderful tale to somebody s disad 
 vantage." 
 
 "And you are the same Dolly, always flying 
 out at nothing," she retorted ; and then, more 
 gently, "But don t let us quarrel when we have 
 not met for so long. I only repeated what I had 
 heard. I am sure I am glad it is not true. Come 
 into my parlor, and sit awhile ; it does me good 
 to see an old friend." 
 
 I did not want any words with her, and some 
 thing about her made me feel sorry for her : so I 
 followed her into a back parlor, behind the shop, 
 with loopholed doors by which she could keep an 
 eye on the shopmen. Here she would have me 
 sit down, and brought out some cake and wine. I 
 asked after her father. 
 
 " My father is well, but very feeble, and hardly 
 
890 Through Unknown Ways; or^ 
 
 ever comes near the shop," she answered. "My 
 uncle and aunt Pendergast are staying with us at 
 present. These are fine times for us Dissenters, 
 Dolly. We are courted of both sides alike." 
 
 " So I hear," I answered ; " but Mr. Jackson is 
 not a Dissenter. How is he ? " 
 
 " Well enough," she answered carelessly. " He 
 is at the docks about some goods just come in, or 
 I should not be sitting here in comfort. But I 
 made my bed, and I must lie on it, I suppose. We 
 poor slaves of wives must take what we can get, 
 and be thankful." 
 
 "I am quite content to take what I get," I 
 answered. "I have the best husband in the 
 world." 
 
 "I am glad you think so," said Ursula more 
 gently ; " and indeed, Dolly, you do look as though 
 things had gone well with } r ou." 
 
 I asked her about my Lady Corbet. 
 
 " Oh, yes, poor thing, she is in town ! You had 
 better go and see her, Dolly : she often speaks of 
 you." 
 
 "I certainly shall do so," I said. "But how is 
 she prospering ? " 
 
 " As well as a woman can who has married a 
 gambler and drunkard, and sees her money melting 
 away in his grasp. But that she hath property of 
 which he can touch only the income, I believe she 
 would have been in an almshouse before now. He 
 never goes near her except when he wants to 
 coax or bully a few guineas out of her. He would 
 
Mrs. Studley a Diary. 391 
 
 have her give up her house ; but she clings to that, 
 and there you will find her, like a mouse under a 
 bushel. But here comes my amiable lord and 
 master." 
 
 In effect, we heard the next moment a sharp 
 voice in the shop asking for Mrs. Jackson, and 
 iii the same breath scolding the shopman for allow 
 ing the sun to shine on a piece of camlet. 
 
 "But twould be all the same to you, or your 
 mistress either, if it were cloth of gold or velvet 
 of Genoa. Nothing goes right when my eye is 
 turned away for a minute." 
 
 He opened the door with a frown on his face, 
 which he tried hard to turn into an amiable smile 
 when Ursula presented me to him. He looked 
 littler and meaner than ever. I could not but 
 remember poor Mr. Andrews, whose honest love 
 had been so slighted. Certainly he had had an 
 escape. 
 
 As soon as I could I went to seek my old mis 
 tress. I found her living as Ursula had said, like 
 a mouse under a bushel, in one corner of the old 
 house, attended by a vinegar-faced waiting-woman, 
 a great contrast, certainly, to former days. The 
 poor old lady looked older and more pinched than 
 ever, with her false locks, and the youthful laced 
 cap for which she had exchanged her widow s veil. 
 She gave me a warm welcome, and really seemed 
 glad to hear of my well doing. By and by the 
 waiting damsel left the room, and then she asked 
 me if I knew any thing of Mrs. Williams. I told 
 
392 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 her my old friend was living with me, and I hoped 
 would always do so. 
 
 "Ay, she always loved you," said my lady. 
 " She did not like my marrying again, and I gave 
 her warning for something she said ; but I never 
 meant her to go. However, she and Sir Philip 
 Morley would never have agreed, so it is just as 
 well. Sir Philip is like other young men ; but we 
 must make allowances, we must make allowances. 
 He has a great many engagements, and cannot 
 give me as much of his company as we could both 
 wish ; but he is kind to me, oh, yes, he is kind to 
 me, whatever people may say ! " 
 
 Somehow I liked the poor old body all the 
 better for making the best of her bad bargain, 
 instead of complaining of him as Ursula Jackson 
 had done. She kept me a long time, asking all 
 about my marriage, and really showing more in 
 terest in me than she had ever done before. I 
 was about to take my leave, when she toddled 
 to her cabinet, and, after some hunting, brought 
 out a very pretty case of silver-gilt spoons, which 
 I remembered as having adorned the table on great 
 occasions. She gave them to me, saying she 
 always meant I should have them some day, and 
 they might do for a wedding present. They were 
 small, but very heavy and prettily wrought, and I 
 was admiring them, when I heard a man s step on 
 the stairs, and my lady said rather hurriedly, 
 
 " There, put the box in your pocket, child." 
 
 I obeyed instinctively the old sharp tone of 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 393 
 
 command, as Sir Philip Morley entered. I knew 
 him in a moment, though he was changed and 
 grown stout. Could this be the man I had once 
 fancied I loved, this debauched looking ruffler? 
 He greeted his wife carelessly enough, and then 
 turned to me. 
 
 " And who have we here ? As I live by bread, 
 tis my old flame, pretty Mrs. Dolly ! " 
 
 " Mrs. Studley, if you please, sir," I answered, 
 with a courtesy, and by no means relishing the 
 freedom of his address. 
 
 " Oh, ho ! we are married, and we stand on our 
 dignity," said Sir Philip with a laugh. " Well, 
 tis a pretty dignity, and does not misbecome you. 
 Mrs. Studley, since that is the style, I trust I see 
 you well and happy ? " 
 
 " Very well and very happy, thank you," I 
 answered. 
 
 " And how long have you worn the rosy chain 
 of Hymen, may I ask ? " said he with a sneering 
 laugh. " For of course it is a rosy chain ; we all 
 know that, eh, Felicia? " turning a mocking glance 
 on his poor wife, who seemed divided between joy 
 and terror. 
 
 " I have been married about two years," I 
 answered concisely. I felt more and more dis 
 gusted with him every moment, as he went on 
 paying me compliments, and seasoning them with 
 ironical speeches to his wife. My husband had 
 promised to call for me, and I never listened more 
 eagerly for his knock than I did then. He came 
 
394 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 at last, and I bade my poor old mistress farewell. 
 I never saw her again. I did see Sir Philip once 
 more, as I have good reason to remember. 
 
 For my part I was not at all sorry to have met 
 him again, and that without a single feeling save 
 of shame that I should ever have thought of 
 loving him. I don t think, after all, that he was 
 so very much changed : it was my eyes that were 
 opened. 
 
 As we were walking home that afternoon 
 (it was the 7th of November) we observed an 
 unusual commotion in the streets. Men were 
 gathered in knots, shaking hands and exchanging 
 looks and words of congratulation, as on some 
 most joyful event. My husband asked one man, 
 whose dark face, and hat pulled over his brow, 
 showed that he, at least, took no share in the gen 
 eral joy, what had happened. 
 
 u The Devil hath broke loose, that is all," 
 answered the man, as he turned away. My hus 
 band asked another the same question. 
 
 " Tis that the Lord hath sent deliverance to his 
 people. Praised be his name that I have lived to 
 see it ! " replied the old man, whereupon the first 
 cursed him for a traitor and an old Roundhead, 
 and I believe would have struck him, had not 
 Edward interposed. So differently was the com 
 ing of the Prince of Orange looked upon. But 
 the number of those who mourned was as noth 
 ing to those who rejoiced. We hastened to our 
 lodgings, for the mob were already giving signs 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. 395 
 
 of turbulence. That night a chapel not far from 
 us was sacked, the images and furniture thrown 
 into the street and burned, and the priests obliged 
 to fly for their lives. 
 
 But the tumult that night was nothing to what 
 followed the flight of the king. The Prince of 
 Orange fairly scared the poor king into running 
 away, much as I have seen our big tom-cat drive 
 a rival and intruder out of the garden by merely 
 looking at him and growling. The queen and 
 the poor little baby were sent away first, under 
 the escort of a Frenchman named Lauzin ; and 
 then the king slipped off in the night. He did 
 his best to leave anarchy behind him, by throwing 
 away the great seal, and writing to Feversham to 
 disband the army. 1 As soon as it became known 
 that the king had fled, every thing was done that 
 could be done to preserve order ; but in vain. That 
 night, the longest in the year as it happened, Lon 
 don was a scene of terrible confusion. All the 
 Roman Catholic chapels and religious houses, of 
 which many had sprung up during the last three 
 years, were sacked and burned ; and the inmates 
 hardly escaped with their lives. The same fate 
 befell the mansions of the Spanish ambassador and 
 several other foreign ministers, and many private 
 houses were burned and plundered. The mischief 
 was mostly done by that army of human vermin 
 which seems ^to infest all the chinks and cracks of 
 
 1 James denied afterward that he meant to disband the army, 
 but his letter could hardly be construed to mean any thing else. 
 
396 Through Unknown Ways ; or, 
 
 great cities, and in part by the apprentices, always 
 ready for mischief. The next day, London looked 
 as though it had been taken by storm. Our house, 
 a very plain one in a quiet street, was not even 
 threatened ; but Mr. Jackson s shop was plundered, 
 and he himself beaten and abused, it was said, by 
 his own shopmen and apprentices, who certainly 
 were not likely to love him. Lady Corbet s house 
 was also assaulted ; and though the mob were di 
 verted from it, by the attack upon Wild House, 
 the poor old lady was so frightened that she never 
 held up her head again, and died a few days after 
 ward. 
 
 All day long the peers and the city government 
 labored to restore order, and to avert the conse 
 quences of the outrages which had been committed. 
 The Spanish ambassador, who had been the great 
 est sufferer, was lodged in the palace, and treated 
 with all the observance due to the king himself. 
 He was a sensible, good-tempered man, and ac 
 cepted graciously the apologies made to him, as 
 did the other ambassadors. By sunset, things had 
 fallen into a good degree of order. The pool- 
 priests and nuns had been cared for, or had found 
 shelter with their friends, the smouldering fires 
 had been put out, and guards were stationed in 
 dangerous places. We began to hope for a quiet 
 night. Our landlady, Mrs. Jennings, who had 
 kept close all day, ventured to go out and buy 
 materials for a hot supper ; and I was anxiously 
 awaiting the return of Mr. Studley, who had gone 
 
Mrs. Studley s Diary. .. 397 
 
 to ask after poor Ursula and her husband. He 
 came at last, and I ran down to the door to meet 
 him. As I opened it, I saw his face wore the 
 pale, resolved look I knew so well ; and I became 
 conscious of a distant tumult of screams and cries 
 of alarm. 
 
 " What now ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Nothing, I hope, but a false alarm," answered 
 my husband, quickly shutting and securing the 
 door. " Help Mrs. Jennings to close all the shut 
 ters, Dolly. That is the very first thing." 
 
 If I have any talent in the world, it is for doing 
 as I am bid. I had the lower shutters closed and 
 barred before the words were fairly out of Ed 
 ward s mouth, and ran up-stairs to do the same. 
 Poor Mrs. Jennings, coming up from the kitchen, 
 with both hands full of hot beefsteak and oyster- 
 sauce, could only stand and stare aghast. 
 
 The noise drew nearer and nearer, such a noise 
 as I hope never to hear again, of oaths and curses, 
 mingled with the shrieks of women and children, 
 and above all the cry of, " The Irish, the Irish ! 
 The Irish soldiers are coming to fire the city." 
 
 "What does it mean?" I asked, having done 
 idl I could do. 
 
 " Nothing, I hope," answered my husband. 
 " There is a rumor that the disbanded army is on 
 its way to sack and burn the city." 
 
 " O Lord ! and he calls that nothing," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Jennings, setting down her dishes for the 
 convenience of wringing her hands. 
 
398 Through Unknown Ways ; or, 
 
 " O Lord ! oh, gracious ! " chorused her hand 
 maiden. "Oh, we shall all be murdered and rav 
 ished and burned alive ! " and with that she began 
 to scream. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Mary Anne," said her mis 
 tress sharply. " How dare you make such a noise 
 here ! and see how you are drizzling that gravy all 
 over the floor. Go and bring up the pudding and 
 the mince-pies before I cuff your ears." 
 
 Scared as I was, I could hardly help laughing at 
 Mrs. Jennings s sudden change of tone ; but I felt 
 sorry for the poor maid. 
 
 " Don t make a noise, but keep perfectly quiet : 
 that is the best way to avoid notice," said I. "You 
 see, Mr. Studley thinks it may be a false alarm. 
 How did the news come, Edward ? " 
 
 " Nobody seems to know," answered my hus 
 band. " To say truth, I do not believe there is 
 much cause for fear. I met Lady Clarenham s 
 nephew, Mr. Strangeways, who is in the Life 
 Guards just now. He says he believes the poor 
 Irish are too thoroughly cowed and bewildered to 
 attempt any great mischief, even if they wished 
 it, which is not at all certain. At all events we 
 can do nothing but keep quiet and wait the event, 
 commending ourselves to Divine protection." 
 
 " And that is true ; and at any rate we need not 
 leave the nice supper to be eaten by the wild 
 Irish," said Mrs. Jennings, who I believe worships 
 the goddess of cookery, and is indeed a worthy 
 priestess of that divinity. " Mary Anne, you have 
 
Mrs. Studletfs Diary. 399 
 
 not put the mustard on the table ; and where are 
 the pickled walnuts ? " 
 
 Mary Anne muttered that one could riot be 
 thinking about such things at such a time. She 
 believed her mistress would do so if it were the 
 day of judgment that was coming instead of the 
 Irish. 
 
 "To be sure I should, if mustard and walnuts 
 were in the line of my duty," answered Mrs. Jen 
 nings sharply. " Come, now, bestir yourself." 
 
 We tried to do justice to the nice things pre 
 pared for us; but nobody could have much appe 
 tite with those dreadful sounds ringing in our ears, 
 cries and screams, and rushing to and fro of 
 excited crowds, now a temporary lull and now 
 another frightful alarm, " They are coming ; the 
 wild Irish are coming." Edward called us all to 
 prayers, and then we women lay down in our 
 clothes. Poor Mary Anne was so frightened at 
 the notion of going up to her attic that I made her 
 sit down in the great chair in my room, where she 
 was asleep and snoring in two minutes. 
 
 The longest night must have an end, and so did 
 this. When morning came, people bethought 
 themselves to find out what they were scared at ; 
 and then it turned out, as Edward had surmised, 
 that the whole was a false alarm. Nay, there 
 had not been a particle of foundation for it ; no 
 Irishman had attempted any outrage, or done 
 worse than ask for food at a farmhouse door. 
 The report had first been spread in the suburbs 
 
400 Through Unknown Ways; or, 
 
 by some men dressed like country wagoners. It 
 might have passed for a silly practical joke, if the 
 same alarm had not been given in other places, 
 widely distant from each other. The whole mat 
 ter was evidently a conspiracy, but to what end, or 
 by whom planned, remains a mystery. 1 
 
 All this confusion and anarchy was no help to 
 our business ; and I began to think we should drag 
 out the whole winter in London, and spend all our 
 money before we received it. We staid on till 
 after the capture and second escape of King James 
 (though I don t know why I should call it an 
 escape, since all that any one wanted of him was 
 to run away as fast as he could), and the entry of 
 the Prince of Orange into London. Finally, after 
 the Christmas holidays, and when matters were 
 becoming a little settled, we saw the end of our 
 business. The money, which, with the sale of the 
 house Mrs. Price had left me, came to more than 
 nine hundred pounds, was sent to our lawyer, Mr. 
 Winne, in bills, as we meant to go home by coach, 
 and did not care to have so much about us. I had 
 executed all my aunt s commissions, and had made 
 a farewell visit to Mr. and Mrs. Pendergast, and to 
 poor Ursula Jackson, the last of my old acquaint 
 ances, whose husband was still in bed from the 
 effects of the beating he had received on the night 
 of the riot. Ursula declared he was more scared 
 than hurt, and I dare say she was right. 
 
 We were to travel by the fast coach, which 
 1 So it does to this day. 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 401 
 
 makes the journey in three days. It seemed a 
 very short time to me, who had been a week going 
 over the same ground in my uncle s coach. The 
 roads were good ; and we had pleasant travelling 
 companions in the persons of a dignified clergy 
 man whom I had met at Bishop Lampleugh s, in 
 Exeter, and a brother of my Lady Peckham s, 
 Lord Carewe, who had been out of the country 
 ever since Monmouth s rebellion, and was now 
 going down to visit his sister. He hath since 
 married Mrs. Winifred Evans, a very nice, pretty 
 young lady whom Lady Peckham brought up, and 
 who saved his life in quite a romantic way when 
 he was lying out in the fields, after the woeful 
 battle of Sedgemoor. The roads were good for 
 the time of year, as there had been a hard frost 
 of several days duration ; and we had abundance 
 of wraps : so we were not uncomfortable. There 
 was something exhilarating, too, in such rapid trav 
 elling ; for in many places we went at the rate of 
 seven or eight miles an hour. 
 
 But we were not to get off without an adven 
 ture. There had been talk of highwaymen at the 
 inn where we staid the first night. We were 
 travelling somewhat slowly over a desolate heath, 
 when the driver suddenly pulled up, and a voice 
 at the window demanded our money and valua 
 bles. My husband and Lord Carewe exchanged 
 glances. 
 
 " We will do you no harm if you will give up 
 the money we know you have about you," said 
 
402 Through Unknown Ways ; or, 
 
 the masked horseman. " It is in vain to deny, 
 Mr. Studley ; we know that you carried away 
 near a thousand pounds from London." 
 
 " You are mistaken," said Edward quietly. " I 
 sent the money by sea to a merchant in Bristol a 
 week ago." 
 
 The highwayman uttered a curse, and then de 
 manded our watches. Dr. Bristow pulled out his, 
 and the robber reached out his hand to receive it. 
 In a moment Edward had him by the throat, while 
 Lord Carewe held a pistol to his ear. His horse 
 started from under him, and he was left hanging 
 from the coach-door in a very uncomfortable and 
 undignified fashion. His companion, seeing how 
 things were going, clapped spurs to his horse, and 
 was out of sight in a minute. 
 
 "You can t shoot," gurgled the half-choked 
 robber. " Your pistols are stuffed." 
 
 " That is your mistake," answered Edward, in 
 the tone of polite dignity which he always uses 
 when offended. " They were stuffed, I grant you ; 
 but the stuffing was drawn this morning, as you 
 shall see if you offer to stir. Doctor, will you 
 have the kindness to tie this gentleman s hands? 
 My wife will lend you her scarf for the purpose." 
 
 " I have what will serve even better," answered 
 Dr. Bristow calmly, as he took from his pocket a 
 new silk stole. " It hath never been used in the 
 church, or I should have scruples as to putting it 
 to so base a service," he continued, as he secured 
 the hands of the robber, now gasping for breath 
 
Mrs. Dudleys Diary. 403 
 
 under Edward s bulldog grasp of his throat. The 
 guard at the same time tying the man s legs, he 
 was helplessly at our mercy. 
 
 " Let us take a look at your face, m}- friend," 
 said Edward, as he took the mask from the rob 
 ber s countenance. I shall never forget the look 
 of agony he bent upon me as I recognized Philip 
 Morley. I spoke his name aloud before I thought. 
 
 " For Heaven s sake, let me go," pleaded the poor 
 craven wretch. " Let nie go, and I will never 
 molest any one again. O Mrs. Studley, plead 
 for me ! " 
 
 The men were obdurate at first ; but Dr. Bristow 
 and I finally prevailed with them to leave him, 
 bound as he was, by the side of the road. We 
 had passed a carrier s wagon about an hour before, 
 so we knew he would be found and released before 
 night-fall. A stout strap was substituted for the 
 desecrated stole, which the doctor remarked would 
 make his good sister an apron ; and we left him sit 
 ting by the roadside, a pitiable object indeed. He 
 was rescued, as we had foreseen, and told some 
 cock-and-bull story to account for his plight. He 
 left the country at once, and I believe has never 
 returned. 
 
 We had no further adventures, and reached 
 home in safety, to find all well, and Mrs. Williams 
 quite reconciled to poor Dennis and Patrick. As 
 the season was advanced, and so much was to be 
 done at the Hall, we remained at Applecoombe till 
 May, when, having let the farm to advantage, we 
 
404 Through Unknown Ways ; or, 
 
 removed to this house, where we have now lived 
 for two or three months. 
 
 I must confess that at first I woefully missed the 
 farm and its interests. But I soon found enough 
 to do, and my baby s coming after so long a time 
 filled up my cup of happiness to the brim. My 
 good aunt is finally satisfied with my position, 
 and takes great credit to herself for establishing 
 me so well. I am quite willing she should do so, 
 since it pleases her ; but I can t help thinking how 
 it would have been if she had been determined to 
 marry me to Mr. Cheney instead of Mr. Studley. 
 In my state of mind at that time I should probably 
 have been as passive as I was in marrying Mr. 
 Studley. Now Mr. Cheney my lord, I should 
 say has fled the country, and people say has 
 joined King James in Ireland. All his great 
 wealth has vanished into thin air; and he hath 
 left nothing behind him but an immense amount 
 of unpaid bills in Exeter, and various gambling 
 debts. His poor wife has returned to her widowed 
 mother, who tells a pitiful story of her wrongs. 
 Sir Robert let out the whole story the last time 
 he and my aunt were here, and I thought it was 
 a good deal to Betty Rowson s credit that not a 
 look or word escaped her to say, " I told you so." 
 
 One thing I know. No considerations of worldly 
 advantage shall ever make me force my Barbara 
 into a match against her will. The baby is named 
 Barbara, after my husband s mother, and my dear 
 Bab Andrews, from whom I hear two or three 
 
Mrs. Studleys Diary. 405 
 
 times a year. She is well, and seems to be happy 
 in the life she has chosen. Her aunt is dead, and 
 has left her quite rich ; and she hath removed to a 
 place called Newcastle, not far from Mr. Penn s 
 new town, which he calls Philadelphia. Uncle 
 Philip visited the place last year, and says it is 
 really quite a nice village. Barbara sent me a 
 little painting of her house, which is neat and 
 pretty. She has a school for girls, which gives 
 her pleasant employment. I fancy Uncle Philip 
 would not be sorry to go into partnership with 
 her, but I doubt Bab will never marry. However, 
 he is going thither again next year, he having 
 taken command of a fine ship belonging to Master 
 Birch, in Bristol : so there is no telling what may 
 happen. 
 
 Mrs. Williams is well and happy, and I hope 
 may be spared to us for many years. She sur 
 prised us all by going to church when baby was 
 christened, and has been to hear Mr. Rowson 
 preach once or twice since. She hath her crotchets, 
 no doubt, but I am sure a better Christian never 
 lived in the world than Mrs. Mehetabel Williams. 
 
 Lord Chesterton was married last year to no 
 less a person than my old school friend and pet, 
 Mrs. Patty, Lady ClarenhanTs grand-niece. She 
 has grown up a very pretty, sweet young lady, 
 and will make him a nice wife. He lives at home 
 on his own estates, sees to his tenants, and is a 
 very sober, religious gentleman, certainly a great 
 contrast to what he was when I knew him first. 
 
406 Through Unknown Ways. 
 
 Mr. Baxter is still living, and in much easier cir 
 cumstances ; many of the oppressive restrictions 
 which were laid on the Dissenters during the last 
 two reigns having been taken off, though there is 
 still plenty of room for improvement in their con 
 dition. Mr. and Mrs. Pendergast have gone to 
 America, and are settled in the same town as Bab 
 Andrews. My Lady Corbet left them quite a 
 sum of money in her will, with which they bought 
 land : so they are well to do. I am glad, for I 
 always liked them. Ursula Jackson is a widow, 
 but carries on her husband s business. 
 
 And now I come to the end of the third of 
 these books, which I began under such different 
 circumstances. Looking back over the way I have 
 come, I can but thank the Guiding Hand which 
 has led me by such unknown and untried ways to 
 this haven of rest and peace. I thank God that 
 he has led me, often sorely against my will, instead 
 of leaving me to follow out the paths I chose for 
 myself. Verily, " He leadeth the blind by a way 
 they know not." 
 
. . - 
 
 ^%^ 
 
 - 
 
 & - 
 
 -vgffift. 
 
 "1 
 

 
 2S li -"