feag-sgeggwlujuuiai'asgii^^ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES Vol. 11, a A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. is A STORY OF THREE SISTERS, BY CECIL MAXWELL. IN TWO VOLUMES, VOL. II. LONDON: SMITH, ELDER & CO., 15, WATERLOO PLACE. 1874. i^AU rights reserved.) -J f^ II. ''Like the wild hyacintli flower which on the hills is found, Which the passing feet of the shepherds for ever tear and wound, Until the purple blossom is trodden into the ground." 547426 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. CHAPTER I. " Love who may — I still can say, Those who win heaven, blest are they." One sweet, spring morning, when the prim- roses were shaking off the dew that had gathered on their closed blossoms, and the larks were singing over the great grass meadows round Rose Hall, Pamela got up with a little cloud of sadness on her face. Over the garden wall she could see far away into the green country, as she bent out of her open window. In one place a bit of the road shone whitely in the sun, the road leading out into the world which she had so often longed to travel herself, but which looked hard and unfriendly now, when she VOL. II. B 2 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. remembered that by this time to-morrow George Lynton would be travelling upon it, away from them all. They had been all so happy together ; why should it end so ? Perhaps she had some presentiment that such bright days do not come back, and was sorrowing for herself as well as for her friend. When we are young every new bit of happi- ness is a pure gain to us, something to be stored up for the rest of life ; when we are old we also take such heaven-sent gifts gladly, but take them as some compensation for what is gone. " I shall not see him again," thought Pamela, as she looked out into the distance with dim eyes, " for so long, so long ! He will forget us among grand, strange folks, but we shall always remember our friend who was so gentle and good, and his beautiful face and voice that are gone away, perhaps for ever." But fate had designed that she and George Lynton should meet once more before Time had worked his will with either of them. Mrs. Burnet sent her on some A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 3 •errand that morning to the Abbey, and there she found George, who had come to make his farewell to Mrs. Campeny, with a linger- ing hope that he might see either Pamela or one of her sisters. He was alone in the great hall when she entered, sitting at Harold's old harpsichord playing a little melancholy cadence over and over to himself. He did not see her till her dress swept a chair just behind him. " Ah ! " he cried, turn- ing round, " have you been listening to my foolish maunderings ? " "Only for a minute," said Pamela; "but I wanted to hear you sing that song. I have never been allowed to do so, you know." " It has not been finished," he said, *' and never will be now, I imagine. Harold was to compose the music, you know, and I the words ; but my verses were too doleful for him, I fancy, and it never got on. Why should he write sad music to suit me ? " " Almost any fine music is sad, I think, when it is put to sad words," said Pamela; 4 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. " but I wish you would sing me as much as is finished." " I can't do that," he answered, " but I will play you the air ; " and he sat down and played a little melody — so sweet and wistful that it almost brought the tears into her eyes — without the words, which were written on a separate paper, and which she read as he played, and liked a little because they fitted themselves to the air. " Put them away ; they are very sentimental and silly," said George, drawing the paper from her hand. " You know I am only a peg to hang Harold's music upon." This was what she had read : — My house is built beside the sea, On sad, strange shores so far away ; No fire is ht upon its hearth ; The door stands open night and day. For once Love came with timid feet, And stepping o'er the threshold stone He filled my house with happy glow, My house that was so chill and lone. What glories shone about his head, And flashed across the summer blue, The summer air, no longer sad, The happy air the birds sang through ! A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. . 5 Now all is changed and sad and grey — The thistles on the sandy shore, The moaning wind, the empty sea, My house more lonely than before. Yet I no meaner fires will crave. Where Love's own flame burnt clear and bright ; So still I watch, and hope, and wait — The door set open day and night. But sometimes when the summer winds Blow 'twixt the lowlands and the sky, With eyes half closed in dreams, I hear His mighty wings go rustling by ; Some odours fall upon my sense From that rose wreath that bound his hair — Some radiance on my darkened eyes, That makes my sadness less despair. Pamela held one side of the sheet of paper — he had his hand upon the other ; she seemed spell-bound as she gazed at him with her great, sad grey eyes. " I should not have said that," he almost whispered. " I know how good you are to your friends, how much too well and how tenderly you think of them. Do not suppose I am vexed because you think more of Harold than of me ; you must do so, for he is more worthy than I am, and you are as wise as you are good. If you will only say 6 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. good-bye to me kindly, and will promise tO' think of me sometimes, I shall be very happy. Ah, Pamela ! what have I done to make you cr}^, with my foolish verses and my melancholy face ? " " It is I who am foolish," said Pamela, with quivering lips. " I ought to comfort you when you are going away, but it is you who have to say kind and bright things to me, and the last thing you will have to remember will be me crying." And then she put her hand upon his and said very gently, " My friend, we will always think of you and talk of the days when you will come back again,. Harold and I, when we are together. We shall be all alone here, and you will be among great, gay, clever people, and yet I do not think you will forget us either." He bent down and kissed the hand that had rested for a moment on his, and then went without another word. So they parted, and for the last time in a true sense, for when they met again the world was a. different place to them, and they were A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 7 changed. Is not the transformation begun already — in George, as he goes striding home- wards with a new look of pain and endurance on his still boyish face ; and in Pamela, as she sits with Harold's music in her hand and a battle raging in her heart — a battle which she feels to be cruel ; for one warrior is a gentle child-martyr, and one a giant who is victor from the first moment, and scarcely knows that there has been a struggle to win ? Mrs. Lynton felt very lonely when her scheme had succeeded and George was really gone, and in the bitterness of her heart accused Pamela Burnet as the cause of all her troubles, though she knew very well that she could not have kept her son much longer at home in any case. Now that he was gone, and such a visit could not be misconstrued by him, she determined to go herself to Rose Hall to meet her enemy face to face, and see if she could not discover what foolish spell had bewitched him so. To offer her con- gratulations to Anne would be a kindly act of condescension, she thought, and would make 8 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. a good excuse for her visit. It was true she seldom made such expeditions, but this was a special occasion ; and to give a better colour to the affair, she selected a little, old-fashioned silver tea-pot, which had been one of her own wedding gifts, and took it with her as a present for the bride elect, who, she felt sure, would be much surprised and gratified by any attention from such a quarter. No doubt Anne would have been so had it been the will of Fate that the tea-pot should ever reach her hands, which, however, it never did. The Stourton horses were very fat and lazy, and considered it a gross injustice that they should be expected to take their mistress out for drives in the week as well as to church on Sunday ; and as the coachman held much the same views, the carriage proceeded very slowly on the road to Rose Hall. Mrs. Lynton was be- ginning half to repent of her excursion. She was not popular in the neighbourhood, as she knew ; and the Burnets were people whom she neither liked nor was liked by. The interview would be stiff and uncomfortable to A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 9 a certainty ; perhaps, too, they might guess her true reason for coming in spite of the tea-pot, which really seemed a very insufficient screen for her purposes. Just at this juncture she heard a little low ripple of laughter, and looking out, whom should she see but Pamela herself walking along the path by the river- side with Harold Turrell ! She had evi- dently been to Merehampstead on some errand, for she carried a little basket in her hand as she walked briskly along the towing path, which here ran for a short distance parallel to the road. They were a little in front of the carriage, and Mrs. Lynton had time to observe the girl's lithe and graceful figure as she went on, her blue woollen gown slightly gathered up from the wet grass, and broken into little wavering folds by the fresh wind. Apparently they had only just met, for Harold was begging to be allowed to carry her basket and she was refusing. " No," Mrs. Lynton heard, " I dare not trust you ; you know if you got excited you might begin whirling it round or throwing it up in the air." 10 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. Then the carnage rumbled past them. Harold raised his hat, and Pamela stood still for a moment and lifted her eyes to the lady with a grave look of kindness and sympathy ; but before she could make any salute Mrs. Lynton gave just the stiffest possible inclina- tion and flung herself back in her seat. " Poor thing," said Pamela, " how pale and sad she looks ! How lonely she must be in that great house ! I hope she did not think me rude that I did not take any notice ; one is easily offended when one is in trouble." "She is easily offended at any time," said Harold, looking after the retreating carriage. " My poor deluded boy ! " thought Mrs. Lynton as she drove on. "He is ready to fall down and worship this low-born girl, who does not even thank him for his folly. And his friend, too, whom he had such faith in ; I wish he could see how much they care for his absence. He thinks the affection of these people is worth more than his mother's, who would die for him gladly. Oh, if he could but see them and hear their empty laughter. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. I I while I am breaking my heart for him ! As if a great hulking girl like that, and a plough- boy like Harold Turrell, could understand my George ! " And then she checked the coach- man and told him to take the next turnino- homewards. She had seen more than enough, she thoufrht : she would tell George in her first letter how his friends mourned for him on the day after his departure ; and as for the tea-pot, that might go back to its old abode in the plate-chest. Harold and Pamela went on their way, talking often of their friend, sometimes of other things. It was a bright spring morning, and they were together : they could not be altogether sad, though, perhaps, both of them had -been so before they met. " After all," said Harold, "what would not you or I give to be in his place, to be able to go and see the world, to make one's self greater and better instead of growing older and stupider in a place like this ? " " But I don't feel myself growing stupider," said Pamela. 12 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. " No ; I believe you have an angel v/ho brings you meat from heaven ; you are always fresh and strong. But for myself, I long for some more enlivening atmosphere." " That is all right for you. If you long for a thing you may get it; but it is quite different for a woman." " I don't think you are so well contented after all ? " " I never professed to be contented," said Pamela. " I have always been wanting more and more ever since I was a child ; but I think one gets more faith as one growls older. At first it seems something ought to happen with a crash and make it all new ; but as one gets older things come about quietly, and one's whole life s^rows chanp;ed before one knows it." " And by the time you have quite found it out life is over, or the best part of it ; and then to think at the end it has all been lost for want of a little money !" "You are getting very avaricious." "Well, think what money would be for me: I need write no more bad music ; I need no A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. IT, more dull my senses and harden my heart by hearing the horrible strumming of little Julia and her friends ; I need no longer lead a false life, truckling to people I despise, and seeming cold to others I love ; I need not count how many pats of butter I eat in the week, and haggle with my landlady over stray half-pence. I should be free and honest; I should not feel ashamed when I look up and see my old Beethoven scowling at me from the wall, and feel I have forsaken my trust, have given copper for gold, and tried to teach before I had learnt to speak." " It does not seem right that money should be so much greater than anything else," said Pamela, sighing ; " yet I don't know how to contradict you." "It is not greater than everything," said Harold gently. " I am not so bad as to believe that, or not just now, at all events." " You will make money some day," said Pamela, " when you have got a name. Cannot you wait a little ? " " The world is very hard upon a poor devil 14 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. with empty pockets. If George Lynton, now, took to art he would have every one patting him on the back, and ready to pay any price for his things, simply because he doesn't want the money." " There is some reason in that. If he doesn't want the money the chances are the thing is worth having, or it wouldn't be there." "And if you do want the money, the chances are the thing is worth nothing, or somebody else would have bought it," cried Harold triumphantly. " You ought to be a more melancholy person than you are, with these views," said Pamela. " So I should be if it wasn't for you," he replied. " Besides, one forgets one's troubles sometimes, particularly in the fine weather." " Well, there is some comfort in that ; but now you must go back to your work. You can take the short cut across the fields." " I may as well walk on with you to the gate. " No," said Pamela. " Fate is waiting for the battle. Go back and begin to win." A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 5 " Shall I win what I most want, I wonder ? " he said, as he turned away and she hurried down the lane without looking back. A gust of wind shook the trees as she passed, and scattered a sudden rain of white blossoms upon her. The blue gown disappeared before this silvery shower had time to clear, but Harold walked up and down the entrance to the lane for some time, and then strode rapidly home and wrote the long-waited-for allegro to his symphony. When Pamela told him to begin the battle with Fate, it was no vain exhortation. He could hardly disbelieve that the subtle melody that penetrated his soul as she left him had not emanated directly from her. At all events, she had bidden him work, and the power to work worthily was present with him at once. l6 ' A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. CHAPTER II. " Need you tremble and pant Like a netted lioness ? is't my fault, mine ? — Anyway, Though triply netted, need you glare at me ? " Quite early in May Mrs. Long arrived at Rose Hall. She was looking a little faded and worn, but her nieces found her as pretty and charming as ever, and made a great pet of her in their own way. She was very unlike the other members of the family, who were tall, largely made, and somewhat angular people. In the last generation Emilia bore some resemblance to her ; but there could be no greater contrast than between her roundly-formed figure and smooth dark head, and her two tall, brown- haired elder nieces. " I feel as if either of you girls could take A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. I 7 me up easily if you liked, and pop me into your pocket," she said one day, looking up at them. " Pamela, will you never have done sfrowing-, I wonder? I'm sure I hope the silk will hold out for your dresses, but I had forgotten what great creatures you are." " I have done growing long ago, Aunt Carry; but don't suggest anything so dreadful as the silk running short. My heart is set on that glorious peacock colour. See, I ahvays carry a little bit about in my pocket to look at now and then. You don't know how lovely it is when you turn it about in the sunlight," and she produced a little, shimmering fragment of silk from her pocket, which shone green or blue, as you turned it to the light, like a pea- cock's breast. There had been a long and almost angry discussion between Mrs. Burnet and her daush- ter on the subject of these wedding gowns. The elder lady had considered a new muslin apiece would have been quite enough in the way of finery for Pamela and Emilia ; but Aunt Carry had insisted that at their age it v/as VOL, II. C 1 8 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. quite time they had a nice frock to their name, and that the proprieties demanded something more substantial than musHn for an eldest sister's wedding. She managed, as usual, to get her own way, and had herself chosen the peacock-coloured dresses which gave Pamela so much satisfaction ; and for the bride a modest dove colour, scattered over with little sprigs of pink may. Her neat fingers worked early and late at the making of this finery. Anne, too, was very industrious, and stitched away with unwearied patience at the long hems and seams which every one else found too uninteresting. Even Pamela for once set to needlework with a will, and did it so well that every one was quite surprised, and Mrs. Burnet began to look upon her as a reformed character. As for Emilia, she picked up the pins, held skeins of silk, and made herself useful in various small ways. Sometimes, however, all the three young workwomen deserted their post : in that lovely May weather one could not always sit indoors and sew, even at v.-edding garments. On such occasions the two elder ladies would A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 9 keep one another company, and console them- selves with a more comfortable gossip than they could indulge in when the girls were by. In this way Mrs. Long learnt a full account of Johnnie Burnet's visit, of his apparent attentions to Anne, and the way they were cut short. " I had certainly hoped," she said one day, "that he would have taken a fancy to one of the girls. It is a pity it happened to be Anne, who is really so advantageously disposed of. But, after all, he is so young, there is plenty of time for him to alter his mind. Don't you think he and Pamela might make a match of it some day ? " " Oh, he couldn't bear the sight of her. She is a great deal too free with her tongue, is Pamela. There is nothing men hate so much as a woman who is always saying sharp things. Besides, she wouldn't look at him. She just took a turn against him, and no one could ever talk her out of it. I never saw any one to ■equal that girl for being headstrong." " Still she is a girl many men would admire; though I agree with ^-ou she should be more 20 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. careful about what she says. It is very impor- tant for them both to get settled, she and Emilia. I'm sure I don't know what would happen if poor Richard were to go," said Carry,, with a sigh. "If John has a spark of good feeling, I should think he won't see his mother want, or his brother's children either. I know if I were in his place I'd starve before I'd take a penny of the money." " Well, we must hope for the best, mother ;: but if I were you I would look after the girls, particularly Pamela. I'll tell you what I mean. That young Turrell is a great deal too fond of haneine about after her, and meeting^ her in her walks, and all that : you had much better put a stop to it before they get taking some foolish fancy to one another." " You don't mean she would take up with that clumsy fellow, surely ? " " I'm sure I hope not ; but it is best to be careful. A wild young man like that, with, nothing to do but play the violin and talk about art and nonsense, is just likely to catch A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 21 the fancy of a romantic young thing hke Pamela." " Well, Pamela is wild ; but she is not quite a natural, either. However, I don't want the young man here, with his great, loud laugh and his playing and folly; no more does Richard, I'm sure. I'll forbid him the house to-morrow, if you like." " Oh no," replied the wily Carry. " Don't do that. That would be the worst thing you could do just now. But keep your eye on him, and keep dear Pamela out of his way if you can." Pamela came in from her walk in happy ignorance of the plots that were being laid for her advantage. She had met Mr. Ouicke and had had a short conversation with him which had raised her spirits to the pitch of over- flowing. " How is it you are never playing in the church now ? " she had asked him. " There is a Saturday night every week, but you do not observe it with the old honours." " Nonsense, child ; how can you know any- 22 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. thinor about it ? You never come to see. Do you think I hold my festival in the open streets to raise the envy of the malicious ? If I don't have music, perhaps I have something better." " New books, is it ? " she asked. " Yes ; and a beautiful Yorkshire game-pie and some clotted cream — -all from my mother," said the old man in a whisper. " That is very nice ; but I am sorry the good things have stopped your music." " Child ! I have plenty of music ; but I don't play— I listen, Harold plays. When the sun gets up the moon goes to bed. I don't want to play when I can hear him. He is a rare lad." " Yes ! " said Pamela, with a little blush. " We shall all be proud of him one day,. thouQ-h he is not over rich in friends now. I never heard of a genius in Merehampstead before, but there is one now, mark my words." And then the little lawyer trotted home, leaving Pamela supremely happy. She wanted no one to tell her he was a genius, not she. She had discovered that before any of them ; A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 23 but now it seemed other people were to begin to appreciate him — not perhaps the stupid, uneducated Merehampstead folks, but a clever man like Mr. Ouicke, who could judge of him as the critics in London would judge of him one day. That very evening Harold came to Rose Hall. It was after tea, and they had all gone out into the garden for a stroll in the twilight. Mrs. Long soon got tired, and retired to her chair, which was placed at the top of the short flight of stone steps which led down- wards from the passage. Pamela had seated herself on the steps below her aunt, and was lookinof out with her eaQ;er face into the clear green sky, against which the line of the garden wall cut sharply. The flowery pear-trees rose up like white spires, touched on their tops with the faintest rosy glow from the sunset. The trees were thinly clad as yet with young half-folded leaves that let through the mellow light from above. Only the lilacs were thick and clustering with their great heavy heads of pale blossom. Anne and her lover were 2 4 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. walking up and down, talking softly to each other now and then. Pamela watched a little rosy cloud steal out from behind the great pear-tree and sail slowly into the open sky. Some one outside was whistling an air she knew well, and would be here presently. Before the little cloud had half finished its journey he was there, quite unconscious of Mrs. Long's rather chilly reception, leaning against the door-post, with Pamela sitting almost at his feet. What did they mean, Mrs. Long asked herself impatiently, by shaking hands in that strange, silent way ? Why would he do nothine but lean aorainst the door and stare at the back of her niece's head ? Perhaps he could see a little bit of the outline of brow and cheek too, but that she did not know. At last, in despair, she began to talk herself ; and when she did it was pleasantly, for it was Mrs. Long's eolden rule never to make herself disagreeable to any one, particularly to men, and though she would have done almost anything else to save her niece, she drew the line here. " Why did you not bring your violin, Mr. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 25 Turrell ? " she asked. " Some music would have been delightful this lovely evening." " I am so sorry," said Harold. " I did not know you cared so much for it. You see, I know my own weakness in that respect at least, and I am afraid of pestering people with my scraping." " I do so love music," said Aunt Carry. ■"Are you composing anything just now, pray?" " Oh, well," he said, " I generally am, off and on like ; but I have my lessons to attend to, you know." " You seem to have a good deal of spare time," said Mrs. Long, smiling. " You mean I come over here very often," guessed Harold, with great acuteness. " But you see it is my only treat, and a man does not work any the better for being for ever slaving." " It is not so much the time you spend here as the walk I am thinking of." " Why, it doesn't take twenty minutes ! " said Harold. " But how many twenty minutes in a week?" she asked, still smilinf^-. 26 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. " Oh, I must have my walk," he said ; " and if one wants to see one's friends, it is no use being frightened by a mile walk." " Pamela dear, don't you think it is a little chilly?" said her aunt, drawing her shawl round her shoulders. " Oh, auntie ! why didn't you tell me before ? " cried the girl, starting up. " How careless of me ! " And then, whether she would or no, they took her off indoors, and deposited her by the fire which was still lighted in Richard's study. On one pretence or another, she managed to keep Pamela by her side until the rest came in, and there was no more chance of a walk in the garden. Then Harold took his leave and went. Pamela let him out ; and though they lingered a moment in the hall, he said nothing but " Good night, Pamela," and she said, " Good night," and gave him her hand for a moment. " Mrs. Long is a nice little woman," he thought to himself as he walked off, " and the best friend I have among Pamela's relations ; but she was a little tiresome to-night." A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 2/ * For Pamela things did not end so quietly. Immediately after Harold's departure, she followed Mrs. Long up to her bedroom, as was usually the habit of one of the girls ; for the little woman, though she was scarcely Incapacitated from brushing her own hair, was very ready to have that and other like offices performed for her. Pamela was brushing away at her aunt's silky and still abundant locks, when she remarked, " My dear little niece, do you know it is not proper for young ladies to go and see their guests off, and open the door for them like a servant-maid ? " "You have forgotten our manners and customs, Aunt Carry. We never think of send- ing for Peggy to open the door like you grand London folks, with your stiff, inhospitable ways." "It may be very well to do It in some cases, dear, but when the visitor Is a young man It Is — It Is not quite nice, I think." " What do you mean by ' nice,' aunt ? " " Nice ? Well, I mean proper — the right thing to do." :28 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. "You think my showing- Harold Turrell out was improper, then ? " " If I were you I would call him by his surname only." ^ " INIr. Turrell, then." " Well," said Mrs. Long, " I should not like to say you did anything improper or even forward, dear child, but I want you to be very careful, and not — not give any one any chance of thinking less of you than they should, you see. The more you think of yourself the more men will think of you, you may be sure. And I am a little afraid, from what I saw, that this young man is inclined to be forward to you, to show you less respect than he should." Mrs. Lonor had intended the words for a rebuke : they came to Pamela as a dreadful revelation. She clung to the back of her aunt's chair : she was very young, very inex- perienced ; her aunt was clever and knew the world. Was this, then, what he meant by his eager face, when he met her — by his pressure of the hand, so slight as to seem involuntary, when they parted ? For one awful moment A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 29 doubt seized and wrung her soul. The love she had thought so tender and respectful — was it only the forward attention of a man to a woman he thought lightly of? She was past prayer, but there was the faint wish at her heart that if this were so she miofht die. Suddenly catching courage from the depths of despair, she turned upon her aunt and cried, " Do you believe what you are saying ? " "I hope I speak the truth, Pamela ?" " Then how can you speak to me ? If I have made Mr. Turrell, who is only a friend, think so of me that he need not show me the respect he would to another woman, I wonder you let me come near you. I wouldn't in your place." *' My clear Pamela, you exaggerate things so. I never said Mr. Turrell did not respect you. I merely hinted that you were not as particular as you might be ; but you are a young thing, and will learn to be wise in time — good I am sure you are already." " There are no degrees in that sort of thing," said the girl, contemptuously. " One must be 30 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. ' altogether respected or altogether despised ; and as for folly, no one has any business to be foolish in such a matter. You must speak out, Aunt Carry, now you have begun. Why do 3'Ou suppose Mr. Turrell thinks he can be forward to me, and what have I done that could make him think so ? " " Good gracious, child, how you do cross- question one ! Anybody would suppose I had accused you of a murder ! " " That wouldn't have been so bad," said Pamela ; " it would have been easy to answer." "■ Well, now, go to bed like a good girl, and be careful in future. I am sure you mean no harm." " I know what I mean," cried Pamela, stamping her foot ; " tell me what I have done — why it is immodest to do for Mr. Turrell what I should do for any friend who comes to the house ? " " There is a great difference between Mr. Turrell and other friends," said poor Mrs. Long, catching gratefully at the first straw that offered. " That young man has his own way A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 3 1 to make in the world ; he has not even a pro- fession that brings him in enough to hve on. Just think of the miserable consequences if he were to form any foolish attachment to you, which could never come to anything. Your sister Anne is going to be comfortably setded, and I hope to see you and dear Milly likewise provided for some day. Remember, you will have scarcely anything of your own, and that girls in your position have something else to think of besides romance and nonsense. It would be very wrong of you to encourage him to come dangling after you, when you know nothing but trouble can come of it. Many a young man has had his life ruined by that kind of thoughtlessness. I think you are a good girl, Pamela, and I trust for once you will take my advice, and put a stop to this intimacy. There is no need to quarrel with your friend, but try not to see more of him than you can help. At first there may be a little difficulty, but he will soon understand his place, and things will be quite comfortable." Pamela stood on the hearthrug with the 32 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. brush still in her hand. She looked very fierce and determined. Mrs, Long felt she had raised a spirit which she scarcely knew how to lay, and wished most devoutly she could hit upon an expedient for getting her niece quietly out of the room ; but she showed no signs of moving. She had for one moment doubted herself, and' almost doubted Harold. The suffering had been keen, but it had clone its work. A tender veil of girlish shyness and unconsciousness had hitherto covered her love for Harold : it had been there, but an unknown, unrecognized' thing, a closed bud, from which not the smallest streak of colour gave notice of the coming flower. Here she found it suddenly sprung into existence outside herself, and meeting her face to face, like one of the actual realities of life. " You are tellinor me two different thinsfs,"^ she said at last, in a tone of suppressed excite- ment. " First you said Mr. Turrell thought very badly of me— did not even show me respect ; now you seem to say that he thinks much too well of me. Which do you mean, Aunt Carry ? " A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 2>0 *' I mean that I want vou to be a o-Qod child and go to bed, and think over what I have said, and not to make my poor head ache with your dreadful questions," said Mrs. Long, smelhng at her vinaigrette. Pamela's heart began to soften a little. She knelt down and took her hand. " Do you know that you have been saying very bad things of me ? " she said. " I'm sure I did no such thinof. Girls are not generally so angry at being told to be careful about those matters. When I said he was forward, I only meant it as a warning, and you shouldn't be so touchy about a mere word. At your age one always has admirers, and these little difficulties arise. I'm sure I went through enough before I married your Uncle Robert. If only young people would benefit by the experience of their elders ! " " I'm sorry if I was touchy," said Pamela, in her most stately manner, "but what you said sounded more like an accusation than a warning. However, as you are good enough VOL. II. D 34 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. to tell me you did not mean it as such, I will try to forget all about it. And now let me bathe your head with a little eau-de- cologne and water, and then I will go to bed." Mrs. Long submitted meekly to be un- dressed and put to bed. Pamela tucked her up very comfortably, gave her a grave kiss, and went off; and then in the darkness her aunt bes^an to reflect that she had managed the interview with much less than her usual tact and success. " At any rate," she consoled herself with reflecting, " it may make her think." It did make Pamela think, though not at all in the way Mrs. Long had intended. She became more reserved to Harold, and so far her aunt congratulated herself on the success of her exhortations, though at times, as she watched the two, she felt inwardly uneasy, and determined to get the young man cleared off the premises before she went back to London, To Harold personally she was as pleasant as ever, and the deluded young A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 35 man looked upon her as his one ally In the Rose Hall household. Natural!)^ of two women he believed the one who was pretty and nice- mannered to be his friend, and the one who was old and uninteresting to be his enemy. But in this he was greatly mistaken, for Mrs. Burnet was too much occupied with domestic concerns at that time to have a spare thought to bestow upon him, but Mrs. Long was always on the watch while he was In the house, and talked to him with amiable Interest about things she neither cared for nor under- , stood, because she wanted to keep him away from Pamela. '' She is a kind little body, Is your aunt," he said one day ; " but I wish she wouldn't always think It her duty to talk about music. I'm sure she only does it on my account. I don't honestly believe she has the least notion •of half the things she says she. knows by heart; but she seems to think I'm a sort of musical-box, and can do nothing but tinkle." 36 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. CHAPTER III. " Then, when the world is bom again, And the SAveet year before thee Hes, Shall thy heart think of coming pain, ' Or vex itself with memories ? " The morning of Anne's wedding-day broke among soft, grey clouds. Pamela, who had been ver}^ anxious to wake early, overshot her mark and was at the window before sunrise. She had shut herself into her little childish play-room, where the old muslin gown of her dramatic days still lay folded away in the cupboard. On the top of the press lay a mass of something soft and crisp, with a sheet thrown over it. She just lifted a corner and took a glimpse as she passed at the three wedding dresses, and then went and opened the window. Everywhere as far as she could A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 37- see the sky was grey. The fields looked o-reener than ever under the colourless canopy. It was so still she could hear the faint rustle of the falling rain, and away in the distance a silvery mist seemed hung between her and the trees. Was the sun really risen or not ? she wondered. It was quite light ; but the sky looked so chill and forlorn, it seemed a dreary interregnum — neither day nor night. Already her hair and face were wet with the falling drops. She drew her head in and shut the window. Was it really Anne's wedding-day ? And she had never seen so sad a morning. " How is it that daybreak is so sad and wild ? " she asked herself. " The day seems more ready to die than to be born. Is it always like that ? " And she bent her head wearily against the window panes. Suddenly the door opened. It seemed she was not the only watcher, for Anne stood before her, with her hair pushed back from her face and in her trailing white dressing-gown, looking half .solemn, half sleepy. 3 8 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. J " Oh, Pamela, why are you ujd so early ? "" she said. "It will be such a long day, and you will be so tired. And, you naughty little sister! you will bring me bad luck if you cry on my wedding-day." " Oh, but look at the rain ; it is pouring and pouring as if it were November." "You are a goose," said Anne cheerfully,, throwing up the window again. " These grey mornings always turn out lovely days. Why, the clouds are breaking already." Indeed, a wonderful change was taking place while they spoke. First a soft, white light suffused the grey mass out to eastward, the clouds besfan to move as if some new life had entered into them, wave over wave went curl- ing and surging about, the brightness deepened and grew to one spot. Then a sharp ray cut through the mists, the rain fell faster and faster in a glittering shower, but it seemed to melt in the light. Presently there was nothing of it left but an occasional shower of diamonds from the wet trees, the sun streamed on, the clouds were rolling away from the sweet, tender A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 39 blue spaces ; the song of a thrush came pouring- out from who can say where, for the whole air was full of melody and delicious scents and morning freshness. The two sisters stood watching hand in hand. Then Anne knelt down by the window and hid her face in her hands, and Pamela knelt by her and threw her arm round her sister's neck. They had often said their prayers so when they were children ; but they knew now it was for the last time. " Come now, Pamela, you must go back to bed," said Anne, when they were both standing again. " It is much too early to get up." She bent down and kissed her sister's cheek as she laid it on the pillow, and sat by her till she fell quietly asleep. When they both rose again it was a bright, sunny morning, with white flecks of cloud sailinof here and there in the blue sky, and the leaves shaking themselves dry in the fresh wind. As for the wedding itself, it was a very quiet affair. Mrs. Long had tried to make it all as smart as she could in spite of her mother and 40 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. Joe. But the latter had stuck to his determina- tion to have "no quahty doings at his wedding;" so she had achieved httle beyond the smart dresses for the girls, Anne looked very pretty and modest, but was as self-possessed as usual, and quite equal to the occasion. Pamela was pale and tragic, though Mr. Ouicke made her laugh at the church-door by exclaiming as she appeared, "Ah, child! you look like a duchess !" Emilia clunt^ close to her sister. She seemed rather awestruck with her own grandeur, and kept casting shy glances at her dress during the ceremony as if to assure herself that it had not undergone a like transformation to poor Cinderella's. Mrs. Cartwright and Julia were among the few strangers present, and perhaps the latter enjoyed the business more than any one there. " I've been up in the pulpit before anybody came," she whispered to Pamela, as they went out. " I've been wanting to go up there I can't tell you how many years. It is so funny, you don't know — it makes you feel inclined to make faces, somehow." A STORV OF THREE SISTERS. 4 1 " You can generally manage that without help from the pulpit," said Pamela. Then they went back to Rose Hall, and there was a very substantial repast, after which Mr. Quicke made a little speech with some very fine jokes In it, which nobody understood but Harold, who was very slow about It, and astonished every one by bursting into a roar of laughter after the little lawyer had got back into his seat, Mr. Honeywood was there, and helped to cut the cake, made very merry with the bride, and slapped the bridegroom on the back according to his usual custom on such occasions. Then Anne escaped from the table, and was not sorry to lay off her finery and put on her quiet, grey travelling gown. She came downstairs looking quite like her old self, except for that glittering little gold ring on her finger, till the illusion was dispelled by the arrival of the post-chaise from the Dragon ; and before one had time to turn round, It seemed to Pamela that Anne and Joe were away down the road on their way to Yarmouth, where they were to take their modest little week of honey- 42 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. moon, and Mrs. Burnet was standing on the door-step wiping her eyes. They all watched till the post-chaise had disappeared into the sunny afternoon haze, and then the guests began to take their departure. "It will be your turn next, you know, Pamela," said Mrs. Cartwright, as she pinned on her shawl, " and I hope you may do as well as your sister, I'm sure." But Pamela said nothinof. She was beein- ning to feel very dreary, and to wonder how they would possibly get on day after day without Anne in the house. As soon as every one was gone she ran upstairs, and w^as even more glad to lay off her smart gown than she had been to put it on. "There, Emilia!" she said to her sister. " Fold it up, and put it away for me, like a good girl. I never want to see the sight of it any more." " Oh, Pamela, why ? You haven't got a grease spot on it, have you ? " " I don't know, nor care,'' she answered^ flinorinof herself on the bed. A STORV OF THREE SISTERS. 43 " It is all right, I think," said Emilia, making- a careful examination. " I think we had better jout on our old merinos ; grannie will want us to help put the things away, I expect." "Then I shall go out," said Pamela. "Why can't the j^lates and things wait a bit ? I'm willing to do my fair share of work to-morrow, but I don't see when we have been erand ladies in silk dresses all the morning why we should have to turn to and be kitchen-maids in the afternoon. I'm sure everything is dismal enough without that. It is unnatural, and I won't do it." She had dressed herself, and was ready to start, before it occurred to her that she was treating poor Emilia rather hardly ; but as she passed through the bedroom, she found her little sister curled up like a kitten on one of the beds, sound asleep. " That is all right," thought Pamela. " They won't wake her, so I may as well go." So she slipped quietly downstairs and out at the back door without being even seen by any one. She started in the direction of the Abbey ; 44 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. Mrs. Campeny, she knew, would be quite alone, and would be glad to see her. She had come to the church, but had refused to join the party at Rose Hall, though she had been pressed to do so. In fact, it had not been a merry day to her, though she had put her sweetest and pleasantest face upon it, and Harold had told her as he led her up the aisle, in her pretty lavender gown, that people would take them for the bride and bridegroom. She had gone home after the marriage, and if she had any tears to shed on the occasion, they were all done with and wiped away when Pamela arrived. Her face was as cheerful as usual by that time, only a trifle flushed. She was not, however, alone. Perhaps Harold Turrell had fancied Pamela would go to the Abbey that afternoon ; perhaps he had only gone there, as she had done, to get a little sym.pathy from Mrs. Campeny. At all events, there he lay on the hearthrug, before a bright little Are, which had been lighted for his benefit in spite of the warm afternoon. He s]Drung to his feet when she came in. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 45 " I thought It was your step," he said, " but why have you taken off the beautiful dress ? " "It is all over," she answered, bending down to kiss Mrs. Campeny. " I don't want to see any more fine dresses for a long time, I think." " I do, though," said Harold, " I wish you would always wear gorgeous colours. They suit you much better than those sober greys — though they are good in their way, too. I should like to dress you in a yellow gown, with a good deal of quaint embroidery about It, and your hair hanging about your shoulders. Didn't you like her in that shimmering blue and green, Mrs. Campeny ? " "It was very pretty," said Mrs. Campeny; " but I am a stupid old woman. I don't much like changes, even when they are for the better ; and she looks more like herself to me in her old grey gown." "Herself— herself ?" said Harold. "What is herself, I wonder ? She was a great lady this morning, very gracious and kind In her manners ; but now she has put on another self 46 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. with her everyday dress, and I hardly know what to make of her." Mrs. Campeny felt by no means comfortable. She understood quite as well as Mrs. Long that these young people were getting on dangerous ground ; but to her their difficulties seemed less easy of solution. They could be parted, of course, by force ; but would any good come of that ? Neither Harold nor Pamela were people who forgot or altered easily. Might they not be preparing a lifelong unhappiness for themselves ? Then, again, she had more confidence in Harold than Mrs. Lone had. " He is an honourable young man, with all his wildness," she told herself "He will never seek to entangle her affections unless he has some hopes of being able to marry her. But then he is so careless, so childish In some ways ; he scarcely knows the value of his own words. He may break her heart before he knows what he is about." " I have had a letter from Lynton," Harold said presently, looking up at Pamela. " Have you ? I am so very glad. Where is he ? Is he well ? " A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 47 " He was at Strasburo; with his tutor. The letter is all about the cathedral, and so on. No, I don't think he seems well. A fellow can't be well who is in such wretched spirits ; but you shall read the letter and judge for yourself. It is good enough to be printed. I do believe there is nothing under the sun he does not know soinething about — archi- tecture and all the rest of It. He has the head of seventy on the shoulders of seventeen." Pamela took the letter away to one of the Sfreat arched windows and sat down to read. It was a very long epistle, some of it quite incomprehensible to her. There was a long account of the cathedral, and much of the services he had heard there, with little bars of music, as illustrations, introduced here and there. Pamela sighed a little gentle sigh as she remembered it was Romish worship he was describinor. Then at the end he wrote : " I wish I could come home with my letter before the beautiful English spring is quite over. Do you still all meet at the Abbey as you used to in the winter, and if so, do you 48 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. ever waste a thought on your unworthy friend ? I hope you are all well, both at the Abbey and Rose Hall. My best congratulations to Miss Anne. I suppose her marriage draws near. I have a little wedding gift for her which I will send by the first opportunity." Pamela's thoughts went back to those happy winter evenings, as sbe sat with the letter in her drooping hands. How changed every- thing was now ! — Anne married, George away in foreign lands, and Harold— Harold more changed than any one. She could no longer shake hands with him or walk by his side without an uneasy sense of consciousness. She was unhappy when he was away, yet restless when he was near her, and she felt other people were watching him and her with unfriendly eyes. This was not the case now, however. He had gone to his harpsichord and was turn- ing over the music which lay upon it, and Mrs. Campeny sat with her head on her hand, look- ing at the fire. O " Here are all our old songs," said Harold. " I thouofht Georore had taken them with him. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 49 I wish he were here to sing them ; they don't suit my roaring, but I will try this. It has a good, stout accompaniment, at any rate." " Oh yes, do sing us something," said Mrs. Campeny ; and then, to a rolling, march-like tune, he sang out these words :— " Never again, oh swan, to the river Leaning thy white breast, the banks gliding by, Never again shall be song of thy singing Borne through the rushes and wafted on high. " Hushed be all voices of woodland and meadow, Dove on the green bough and lark on the wing ; Some sunny morning may serve for your singing. This bird alone has but one song to sing. " One song to sing while the sunset glows redly, As down the red river he goes to the sea. One great sad song of a life that is passing Out from our world to the life that shall be. " Bear him, oh river, farther and swifter, Gliding on steadfastly into the west, He watching perhaps for some shore that we know not, Journeying, journeying on to his rest. " Farewell, pale voyager, who would not share with thee, Spite of thy silence, the fate that is thine— Yearning a lifetime long, ending in fairest song. Silence that breaks into music divine ? " " Have you nothing more cheerful than that for a wedding day ? " said Mrs. Campeny. VOL. II. E 50 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. " It is George's," replied Harold. " He always took a melancholy view of life ; but I am getting to think it was pretty true, — for folks who have not well-filled pockets at any rate, though it must all be plain sailing for him, I should say." Pamela got up to go. Both she and Mrs. Campeny had in their own minds deter- mined that Harold should not walk home with her, but when he also rose and took up his hat to accompany her, as a matter of course, they found It not so easy to dis- pose of him. Pamela could only say weakly, " Please let me go alone," and Mrs. Campeny got out nothing but, " You had better stay and have some tea with me "—which he of course refused. The end of it was that he carried his point, and two minutes later the young people were walking quickly through the twilight together. They spoke scarcely a word the whole way home. It seemed to Harold that if he opened his lips at all he must say, " Pamela, I love you with all my soul. We have neither of us any money, A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 5 1 but I want you to love me in patience till I can ask you to marry me. Will you take part for me against all your friends, or will you tell no one, and let a secret eat into your innocent, truthful life ? " He knew one of those alternatives she must choose if he told her what he so longed to tell ; and it needed no precautions of Mrs. Long's to seal his lips. He would have died sooner than have spoken to her in such a way. He would work for her, morning, noon, and night ; he would see her sometimes, to keep his courage from failing, his heart from breaking ; but so far as he knew he would look no look, speak no word, to ruffle the pure calm of her mind. " A young girl is so different from a man," he thought ; " she loves without know- ing it, and Pamela is so simple and child- like. I am only her friend now, but some day I shall be able to throw off the mask, and she will find that she loves me." The time of waiting seemed easy to him, for he would see her continually all the while, and no pang of doubt, or weariness of disappoint- 52 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. ment should be hers. He thought he had shut her into a charmed circle, where she could dream away some happy years, till the moment should come when he could break through and claim her for his own. He little knew what rude hands had been at work at the spell, and how his enchantment had been already shattered. He shook hands quietly with her at her own door, and whatever his face may have said she could not see, for she never raised her eyes till he had left her. Surely the two ^ women within might have spared them a little and oriven time a chance of settine things riorht. "It must be put a stop to," said Mrs. Long. " I couldn't have believed it of one of my grand-children," chimed in Mrs. Burnet. " Trapsing about the country at this time of night with young men. I must speak to her father." " Better give a hint to the young man, I think," rejoined her daughter, " and tell him we wish his visits to cease for a time," A STORY OF TPIREE SISTERS. S3 " I don't know, I'm sure. I dare say he Avill only snap his fingers at me. I did think when Anne was off my hands I should have a litde peace, but Pamela will be ten times worse to manage. She always was." " Don't fret yourself, mother. I'll speak to Richard. He ought not to let all these worries fall upon you. And if the worst comes to the worst, and we can't get rid of him, I'll take Pamela up to town with me when I go. I wouldn't say anything to her if I were you. I gave her just a hint the other day. She is a high-spirited girl, and we must not press her too hard." And while they were talking, Pamela's footsteps went slowly upstairs to the old bed- room, that seemed so lonely and empty now Anne's bright face and cheerful step were ofone from it. In some moods we see more things than those that are before our eyes, and thouQ-h she did not know of the con- ference going on below, she seemed to scent trouble in the air, and sighed as she went. 54 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. CHAPTER IV. " A solitary briar the bank puts forth To save our swan's nest floating out to sea." The days immediately following Anne's wed- ding were certainly the most unhappy that Pamela had experienced so far. Her watchful guardians had uttered no reproof ; yet by a hundred little signs they made her understand that she was in disgrace. If she were going out they asked her where she was going, or begged that she would take a quiet walk, and be in early, or suggested that she should take Emilia with her. If she looked sad, as, indeed, she felt at that time, she was told not to mope. If she ventured to argue with her father, as she sometimes did now, upon subjects he took an interest in, she was warned to be modest and lad)-like, and informed that that style of talking A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 5 5 is bad enough in a young man, but in a woman it is quite unbearable. Her only friend now Avas her father. He was very kind to her in those days, with a tenderness she never forgot. Next to herself, he missed Anne more than any one else in the house did ; and their common loss formed a new bond of sympathy between father and daughter. Mrs. Long had had her threatened interview with her brother, but he had thought very lightly of her fears and pre- cautions. " Women are always imagining love affairs," he had said. " I don't suppose Harold Turrell ever wasted five minutes' thought upon Pamela, nor Pamela upon him. She is not a soft, senti- mental kind of orirl at all. However, if there is going to be any talking and scandal, the sooner it is put a stop to the better." "You are quite right there, my dear Richard," Mrs. Long had answered; "but the thing is, how a7'e we to put a stop to it ? Don't you think it would be better to ask him not to come here at all ? " " No; really I can't say that I do. It seems 56 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. to me it would be rather rude and uncalled for. However, as you take the matter into your own hands, you must settle it your own way. I shouldn't like to say such a thing myself; but dear me, Caroline, you are a clever woman — can't you manage to put a foolish little matter like this to rights without worrying me about it ? " " I can't forbid people to come to your house, you know — not without any authority from you." " Well, then, settle it how you please. You have my authority to ask him not to come here if you like. Of course you will tell him the reason, which has nothing to do with him personally. I don't like the young man, but I have no wish to be discourteous to him. I really think it a mistake to care so much about a little gossip, but do as you like. Only mind one thing," he added, in another and less indifferent tone, " I won't have Pamela worried with any of this. She has not been to blame, and the child looks pale and ill." And so it came to pass that Pamela suffered A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 57 only a silent persecution, and had never so much as a chance of defending herself. The days dragged on very wearily. She never met Harold, and she told herself it was better so, thoug^h in fact she was lanQruishinq- for a word or even a look of kindness. Anne would be home in two days more, she remembered, one bright morning as she walked under the pear-trees, which had cast off their white clothing now, and were dressed in tender green, and that thought cheered her a little. That very day the climax came. Harold had again had some unexpected successes. He had received an amount of work from one of his patrons which, in fact, meant a certain income to him for some time. His first thought was of Pamela. He would go and see her first, and receive her glad sympathy before he even carried the o^ood news to his mother. Pamela was out when he arrived : indeed she was only returning as he left the house, or with his newly learnt suspicion he would most likely have believed that statement to be false, together with ever}^ word Mrs. Long had spoken to him. 58 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. He was standing on the door steps, with the door closed upon him, when Pamela re- turned, and was tisfhtenino; the strino- of a parcel of papers which he carried. She put out her hand to him with a shy pleasure, and then he raised his head. His face was ashy Avhite ; he looked as if he had received some mortal wound, which, hide it as he might, must drag him down presently. " Won't you come in ? " faltered Pamela, looking up at him with her great terror-stricken eyes, for indeed she had never seen on human face the traces of such suffering before. " No," he said huskily ; " I am going awa}^.. Good-bye, Pamela." Then it all flashed upon her. They were sending him away for ever. A word from her would have stopped him, but how could she speak it ? Better he should go and they should lose each other for ever, than that she should sink one hair's breadth from the hiofh place she held in his heart. She only looked at him in silent misery, and said also "good- bye." Then he went away without once A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 59 raising his eyes, and she felt that she herself had sealed their doom. " I have been very gentle with him," said Mrs. Long to her mother ; " but he entirely understands he is not to come here any more. He quite acknowledged that he has no means to speak of, and, I think, though he did not say much, he understood that it would be better for him, if possible, to leave the neighbourhood for a time. And now, dear mother, we must cheer up poor Pamela, A girl always feels losing her first lover, but those troubles don't last long. And I think you had better let me take her up to town when I go : she looks as if she needed a change, poor dear child." Pamela, as her father remarked, was not of a soft or sentimental nature accordinpf to the vulgar meanings of those terms, and when she appeared at dinner and tea time, and seemed, if anything, more merry than usual, her aunt congratulated herself on having made a very clever stroke, and thought how wise she had been to interfere before any mischief had been done. One little incident occurred, 6o A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. however, which made her doubt her own success, though only for a moment. That night, or rather the next morning, some two hours before day-break, the whole house was awakened by a long, wailing shriek, followed by a succession of sobs and cries, apparently proceeding from the girls' bedroom. ]\Irs. Long sat up shivering in her bed. All sorts of horrible stories came floodino- into her mind, as she put on her dressing gown and slippers, of people who had gone mad, or killed themselves, or had brain fever from thwarted fancies ; and with much more than her usual alacrity she crossed the passage and opened the door of her nieces' room. There was just light enough from the waning moon for her to see Emilia sitting on the edge of her bed, still sobbing and catching her breath hysterically, while Pamela with her arms thrown round her sister seemed vainly trying to soothe her. "What on earth is the matter, dear Milly?" asked Mrs. Long, considerably relieved ; and then all the rest of the household came pour- A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 6 1 ing- in, in hastily made toilettes, the women half beside themselves with fright, all asking the same question at once. " It is nothing at all," explained Pamela, rather contemptuously. " I was walking about, and she half woke up, I suppose, and just caught sight of me in the moonlight, and then she was frightened and screamed." "What a naughty child you are then, Emilia, to scare everybody out of their wits for nothing," said Mrs. Burnet. "Just lie down and keep quiet, while I go and fetch you some camphor julep." '* Yes do, mother," put in their father. " ScoldinQT won't do much crood." " But why were you such a silly girl as to go marching about your room at this hour of the night, my dear Pamela?" asked Mrs. Long, cheerfully. " You are not ill, are you ? " " I am not ill, thank you," she said. " I did not know walking about my room at nights was one of the things you had an objection to, Aunt Carry." And then she went away into the dressing-room and shut the door. 62 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. Just before they left the room, when EmiHa had drunk her camphor julep and order was restored, Mr. Burnet knocked at the door and said, " Good-night, Pamela." She came out the moment she heard his voice, and held up her face to be kissed, and then he discovered it was wet with tears. " My child, what is it ? " he said, anxiously. " You are crying, and your hands are so hot. Has your aunt been troubling you ? " he guessed, with sudden illumination. " Never mind father, it is all over now," she said. " I shall be all right to-morrow morning, — when it comes." But he went off to bed wishing he had managed the affair himself, and doubting whether Carry had used her cai'te- blanchc altoo"ether well. When Anne came back from her short holiday, she found many alterations had taken place. Pamela was looking pale, sad, and yet mutinous. Harold was fierce, and sometimes ill-tempered, but of him she saw little. Per- haps the greatest surprise to the bride and bridegroom was to find that Mrs. Campeny A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 63 had gone from the Abbey, leaving no trace behind her but a letter written to Joe and Anne. "It would be simply robbing you," she wrote, " to pretend to be your house- keeper now you have a wife of your own. Thanks to your liberality, dear Mr. Joe, I have plenty to keep me in comfort for my life. I could not bear to go far from you, and I had the intention of living in Mere- hampstead, so as to be near to you and yours. But your aunt has kindly offered me a home, and as she does not seem likely to have INIiss Nelly with her now Miss Polly is married, I am glad to hope I may be more use there than living- alone. The chickens and all that are rather much for her to manage, not being accustomed ; and we shall be two old bodies well suited tosrether. Married folks are best alone, believe me, Mr. Joe." "What nonsense it is," said Joe, when he came to this. " As if we were to be billing and cooino- all our lives. But we will have her back, Anne, before a week is over." Mrs. Campeny held to her determination in 64 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. spite of this prophecy ; and, though, whenever there was sickness in the house, or when hay- making or harvesting were going on, she was always ready to pay a visit to the Abbey and lend a helping hand, she never came back for ofood to her old home. No doubt she was wise, and seeing the separation was inevitable, did well to retire with honour and dignity. She and Mrs. Turrell were, as she remarked, well suited ; and, in spite of Mrs, Campeny's rather anomalous position at the Little Farm, they lived very happily and peaceably together. Mrs. Turrell was ostensibly mistress ; but Mrs. Campeny, as usual, took the lead, and gave a general impression to those about her that if she did not quite manage the machinery of the universe, at least she had a good deal to do with it, and that whether the world would contrive to turn round without her assistance was an unsolved problem. Soon after her return Anne was initiated into the secret of the plans with regard to Pamela and Harold. Indeed, her co-operation was quite necessary to ensure their success, for A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 65 there was no place where the young people were so likely to meet as at her house. " I hope you will do your best to keep him away from the Abbey," said Mrs. Long in con- clusion. "It will only be for a month or two, till I carry dear Pamela off with me." " I don't see w^liat I can do," answered Anne. " I can't turn my husband's cousin out of the house unless he does something to deserve it, and of course Pamela must come here." " You must think of your own sister before your husband's cousin, Anne. It is for her interest we are workine." " I think you might have waited a litde," said Anne,, wdio had become more pronounced In her opinions since she was married. " I am sure you might trust Harold not to say any- thing that would unsettle her, and if they really do love one another, what is the use of making them both unhappy before the time ? They w411 have trouble enough anyhow if that is the case. I will speak to Joe about it," she promised at last ; " but I don't think you can VOL. 11. F 66 A STORY OF TPIREE SISTERS. expect him to forbid the house to his own kins- man. Besides, as long as they are both here, they are sure to meet now and then." " I am sure Joe will do anything you ask him, dear," said Mrs. Long ; '' he is such a model husband." " You are quite mistaken. Aunt Carry," said Anne, flushing. "Joe has a will of his own, I am happy to say, like any other man. Besides, I am not going to begin making quarrels in the family the first thing. However, you may trust Pamela here," added the young matron with great dignity. " You may be sure I shall take good care of my own sister." So Providence, which tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, had raised up a friend for Harold and Pamela in their trouble; and though that summer time had its bitternesses it was not without its many gleams of sweetness and con- tinual glimmerings of hope. Perhaps, looking back in after days, there was no portion of their life they would so willingly have lived over again as this, with its rare, half-forbidden meet- ings, and its secret joys and anxieties. The A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 6/ shadow of real parting lay In the distance, for it was quite decided that Pamela was to go to London with her aunt in the autumn. Harold, too, was to go away abroad, if he could afford it, to study; but the time would pass, he told him- self, and they could wait for one another. Yet he longed very often for some word of assur- ance from her lips that she would be trusting and hopeful while he was away. It would have made the waiting much easier for him, but on her it would entail certain persecution at home. How often he checked the words at his very lips, how often he absolutely fled from her presence lest he should be led over the edge of temptation, she little knew. He fought a hard battle with himself, for his whole life had been one of almost unchecked impulses, some good, some bad. From the time he had been a child he had insisted on having his own way with such energy that he had generally managed to get it in spite of difficulties. As a little fellow he would fight, kick, scratch until he got what he wanted, and any severe correction seemed to turn him into a small demon for the time 68 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. After his fits of naughtiness a reaction would set in, and his remorse would take the form of most fanciful self-inflicted punishments, even more difficult to restrain than his original rebellion. Now, for the first time, he found himself doing real battle with his own will, and he sometimes even wondered himself at the re- straint which he kept over the strongest of his passions. He did not know that Pamela helped him. Her keenly sensitive nature could not fail to give back some echo of the struggle which filled his heart ; but she was a brave girl, and it was well for him that her nature was brave enough and strong enough to keep some hold over the fiery passions she had roused. The clear, grey light from her eyes, the movement of her long hands, the tender gravity which now so often shaded her face, subdued and enchained him. He became humble and gentle in her presence, and scarcely knew his own voice when he spoke to her— it had grown so soft and changed. And yet every day the fruit grew riper on the wall, the wheat became ruddy in the sun, and the day of their parting came nearer and nearer. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 69 CHAPTER V. " Now came fulfilment of the year's desire ; The tall wheat, coloured by the August lire, Grew heavy-headed, dreading its decay." It was a crlowinor mornins;- late In Auofust when Pamela started on her farewell visit to IMere Abbey. The next day was to be devoted to packing, and the next to that they were to start on their journey. On arriving, she found Anne sitting in the stone hall, in company with Jenny and little Totty Jones, with a basket of bloomy purple plums before her, which they were all helping to cut open and stone. " I'm so sorry to have the preserving about to-day, dear," she said, putting her juice- stained hands behind her back while she kissed her sister. " But really the fruit has K*?' 70 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. come on so fast lately, and I don't think the plums would have kept another day. Oh no ! }'0u mustn't help us, with that nice fresh gown on ; what would grannie say ? You must just sit still and tell us the news." Pamela sat down and watched the domestic operations with Avistful eyes. Anne had grown more comely and pleasant than ever since her marriage. There was a merry bustle about all her doings which spoke of her busy, contented life, and said how well she and her destiny suited each other. How far behind were the days when the two sisters had been glad toge- ther and sorry together ! Now Pamela's happi- ness was launched on such stormy and tem- pestuous seas, and Anne's was anchored for ever in this quiet bay. It was very trying to sit there with nothing to do, and watch the busy fingers of the others ; and of conversation there was not much, for Anne was taken up with her plums, and every now and then she stopped to crack the kernels with a hammer that lay by her side, or to remind Totty not to suck her fino-ers so often. Pamela orot tired of it A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 7 1 at last and took up a book — " I am going to say good-bye to the garden," she said. " I will come in when I hear the dinner-bell. It will be all over by that time, won't it ? " " Oh yes," said Anne, " we shall be all clean and respectable by that time." She wandered on and on, beyond the limits of the garden, to where a little winding-path led down to the river. There was an old boat- house there which had always been a favourite resort of hers, and Avhich Joe had lately had mended up and made a fit shelter for the smart, little green-painted boat he had bought about the time of his marriage. It was a delightful refuge for a hot summer day. Out- side, one could see the river, blue and sunlit, with its frinee of willows on the other side, and the draeon-flies skimmino; about on their won- derful wings. Now and then a kingfisher came curving down from above, or a fish rose and made great widening circles on the still water. Inside, all was cool, green, and shady, and there was a pleasant smell of new-cut wood, like a carpenter's shop. Pamela heaped an 72 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. armful of shavings against the side of an old box, and sat down. Her book was open in her hand, but how could she read with the drowsy hum of the summer insects in her ears, and the musical flap, flap of the water against the sides of the little boat ? She gave it up at last, and curled her arm comfortably- over the top of the box, laid her head on her arm, and then dropped peacefully asleep. She dreamt she was out in a boat with Harold Turrell, on a blue and smiling sea. Presently he looked over the side and said, " It is a thousand fathoms down and we shall begin to sink soon ; " but he said it in quite a matter-of-fact way, and there seemed to be nothing alarming in the prospect. A flock of birds were flying overhead, singing quaint melodies. Suddenly they became silent, and a cold dread seized upon Pamela's heart. Then the dream began to melt away. She felt the hardness of the box under her arm, the bright horizon closed in to the four walls of the boat-house ; only one part of the vision was realized. Harold stood before her, and A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. '] 2) the bright sun spots reflected from the water were flying over her head where the birds had been. "Are you going up to the Abbey ? " asked Pamela, when the first embarrassment of the meetino- had been orot over. " No ; I was going to my mother's ; but I meant to look in. I knew I should find you here, and I wanted to say good-bye." ^ " Have I been asleep long ? " " Scarcely a minute, I should say. I am afraid I woke you up, but I could not resist coming in." " It always makes one sleepy, this old boat- house. I believe there is a magic about it. I think of it sometimes when I am tired, and wish I could come away here and lie down and rest, and forget everything." " Where does the magic lie ? " "In the quiet water, I think, close under one's feet, and in those green lights that go flitting- overhead. There are liijhts like that in church ; I think they come from that old brass over the De Wint's vault. They go dancing 74 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. all round our pew in the morning. When I was a little girl I used to half think they were the spirits of the people who are buried underneath, and couldn't come to church properly any more." "Weren't you frightened of them? How could you take such a ghoulish fancy ?" asked Harold. "No ; but I did not quite like it if they came right on my hands, or glaring in my eyes, you know." " You were a brave little thing, Pamela. You are so now ; anybody might trust to your courao-e." He stood throwing little white chips of Avood into the water, and watching how the boats attracted and sucked them under. He was doubtinof if it would not be best to trust to her courage finally. They were all armed against him ; they were stronger than he, and were making cruel use of their strength ; they were taking Pamela away, and would not scruple to use any measures, fair or foul, to keep her apart from him. He was aggrieved A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 75 by the want of confidence they had shown him, and especially by Mrs. Long's treachery. Why not take the straightforward course, and be honest with Pamela. He glanced dow^n at her: she still sat on the heap of shavings, her arms clasped round her knees, her head thrown slightly back, and resting on the box. He had, perhaps, exaggerated notions of duty, as of ever^'thing else, when once he began to think about it. At any rate, he thought it w^as his evil, and not his good, angel that suggested this course of action ; he wrestled with his tempta- tion ; he overcame it, and lived to think that what he had struggled against would have been right, and that with this agony of soul he had resisted the right, and yielded to most bitter Avrono-. No wonder if he fell into errors and weaknesses afterwards. Such a mistake can hardly be set right, such a wound can hardly be healed in this life. To suffer for w^hat seems good, and then to find the straight and easy course would have been the right one, and that we have wrung our hearts for nothing — this is perhaps the truest martyrdom, and the most common. 76 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. " And SO you are going the day after to- morrow," he said at last. " Yes." *' I shall leave here soon, I hope. George Lynton wants me to join him. I don't think I shall do that, but I should like to go abroad. At any rate, I dare say I shall be in London in a month or so." "Will you?" said Pamela, looking up. " Then we shall see you." " I am afraid not. Your aunt is not friendly to me now. I don't think she will let me come within speaking distance. But I may get a glimpse of you possibly. It is only a matter of time," he added, drawing himself up; "I shall come back sooner or later, Pamela. Will you be srlad to see me when I do come ? " " Of course I shall be glad to see you," she said, looking down with quivering lips. " And, Pamela, I want to ask you one more thing. It is nothing particular — only what any friend might ask of you. My mother has a lot of little locks of hair in her work-box, from all sorts of friends and relations ; will you give A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 77 me a little bit of yours, just for a remembrance, you know ? " She hesitated for a moment, twining her long fingers in a wisp of straw. " There is no harm," he said, looking a little hurt ; " or I would not ask you. You may tell your grandmother if you like, but I did not think you would refuse me." " I was not going to refuse," said Pamela ;• " I was only surprised at you. I did not think men cared for such things. But I will cut off a little bit for you if you wish it." " I must have it now," he answered. " That great plait has come all unrolled : you can easily cut off a piece with my knife, just a little bit, so as not to show. It is such pretty, rough hair, quite unlike any one else's." He put the little lock inside a letter, and the letter in his pocket, scarcely allowing himself to touch it in her presence ; and then he turned towards the door, for the dinner bell was chiming from the Abbey, and Pamela had risen to her feet, and tucked up her truant tresses. It seemed to her that she was always. 78 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. saying good-bye to some one, or to some pleasant state of things. George had gone ; then Harold had been cut off from her daily life and common intercourse ; now the climax was come, and they were to be parted for many months, perhaps for a time too long to be counted by months. It was not till he had left her that she fully realized it. So long as he was there, she lived and breathed in his presence ; so long as she could see him making his way through the little copse, she could do nothing but watch ; but when he was fairly out of sight, then she went back to the heap of shavinors and bent her head to the storm for a few minutes, before she turned to face the world under its new and dreary aspect. Pamela did not take advantage of Harold's permission to tell her grandmother of the inci- dent of the lock of hair. Indeed, she never mentioned the meeting in the boat-house at all. She had no confidence in any one now except Anne, and Anne was taken up with her own affairs, and could only bestow upon • her sister the small amount of attention she could spare A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 79 from her husband. The parting between the two sisters was very affectionate, but Pamela was a Httle jarred by Anne's unruffled cheeri- ness. " I shall write and ask you to do lots of shopping for me before you come back," she said, as the gig and Joe came to the door to take Pamela home. " And, Anne, you will write to me often, won't you ? " " As often as I can find anything to say, dear ; but you don't care to hear what we had for dinner, or how the last brew of ale turned out, do you." " Yes ; any little scraps of news. I am to be away so long, and I shall seem like a stranger when I come back, if you don't tell me every- thing. Oh, Anne, do you think they will let me come home after Christmas." " Of course they will ; but you won't want to come home by that time. Come, dear, you must cheer up. You are not going to Jericho ; and you, who always wanted to see the world ! " But Pamela had thrown her arms round her 8o A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. sister's neck, and burst into tears. The pent- up excitement of the day had at last found an outlet, and she sobbed almost hysterically. Poor Joe was quite beside himself with distress, and nearly choked her with a huge mug of water which Anne sent him to fetch. He looked so comically anxious as he tried to put the edge of the mug between her teeth, that Pamela burst out laughing, which gave him such a start that he upset a great part of the water down the front of her dress. " They are skittish creatures, are girls," he muttered, as he went off w^ith his mug ; " but, thank heaven, Anne isn't given to such tricks." A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 8 1 CHAPTER VI. " I looked for that which is not, nor can be, And hope deferred made my heart sick in truth : But years must pass before a hope of youth Is resigned utterly." Pamela's spirits Improved with the bustle of packing and starting. Mrs. Long was very kind, and talked much about how pleased Uncle Robert would be to have her again, and to take her out sight-seeing as he used to do. Only once she alluded to her niece's reluctance to go with her. " You think me a horrid, cruel old monster of an aunt now, don't you, dear, to carry you off against your wish ? But one day you'll see how wise it was, and how nice a holiday it will give you. And then you will forgive poor Aunt Carry, So try and believe we are doing VOL. II. G 82 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. what Is best for you, my child, and try and be merry and happy, as your uncle likes to see you." It was impossible not to thaw before such continual and winninof kindness. The old con- lidence and admiration could never quite return, but Pamela became once more very much attached to her aunt. With the winter weather came some return of Mrs. Long's frequent ill- health, and her patience and sweetness of temper could not fail to endear her to her nurse. Pamela watched her tenderly through some weeks of suffering, with positive wonder at her strenfTth of endurance. At the end of the time she had put away the remembrance of old sorrows and offences in some dark corner of her mind, and had determined to ignore what she could not forget. About the time that her aunt was getting better she heard that Harold Turrell had started on his travels. He was going to Munich to study under some great Professor, to whom George Lynton had sent him a letter of introduction. This was all Anne told about him, except that he would be A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. S;^ in London for a few days before he left Eng- land. From that day Pamela watched and watched. Surely he would not be in London without coming to see her ; and night after night she lay awake wondering, " Would he come to-morrow; would he guess at what hour she went out for her walk ; or should she come in some day, and find he had been and gone, and the chance was over ? " She would have stopped at home altogether if she could, but as that was not allowed she made her walks as short as possible, and always contrived to be at home in the after- noon, when she thought he would be most likely to come. But day after day went by, and he never came, till at last she told her- self all hope was over, and he must have left England. " He might have come to the door to ask, at any rate," she said to herself bitterly, as she walked slowly along in the dusk of a November evening. " I would have gone even to look at the outside of the house where he lives. Three months seem such a little time to forget one 84 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. In ; " and she thought of the lock of hair with an angry blush. Five minutes later she was in their own street. There was some one coming down the steps from the door as she approached. She looked up. The tall brick houses towered on either side, but there was a little strip of clear, pale sky between, and that gave light enough to recognize the rather short, broad figure, and the old impatient toss of the head. It was the second time she had found him shut out, as it were, from her house. She had grown quick to discern treachery now, and the first thing she asked him was — "Why did 3'ou not come to see us before ?" " I have been twice," he said, " They told me you were out. Did they never let you know ? " " I did not know," she said, looking down. At that moment Mrs, Long appeared in the passage, just in time to hear some very forcible expressions from her departing visitor. " I think you had better come in, Pamela,'^ she said coolly. " I am sorry to find you should A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 85 allow that young man to use such language to you, dear," she added, when she had her charge safely on the right side of the door. " You forget what is due to yourself as a lady, and so does he ; or, rather, I suppose he has not had to do with many, and does not know." "He says he has been here twice before," Pamela answered fiercely. "Why did no one tell me ? " " I had very good reasons for not telling you at the time. You would have known after- wards. As long as you are staying with me, Pamela, I am the best judge as to what visitors you should receive, and I don't consider Mr. Turrell one. I should think you must agree with me, after the nice specimen of his language you have just heard." " Then it would have been better to have told me plainly that he had been here and had been sent away. It is a pity you make so many mysteries, Aunt Carry," and she walked away upstairs. " And, oh dear, how angry she did look ! " -ejaculated Mrs. Long, when she recounted the scene to her husband. 86 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. " I don't wonder at it," said Mr. Long. "Why can't you leave the girl and her love affairs alone. You will scheme and manage her into a brain fever one of these days." " And 3-0U would let them run and get married without a penny to buy them bread and cheese ! " " They have a great deal too much sense to do that, I believe ; Pamela has, at any rate. However, you must go your own gate, I sup- pose ! Soon after Harold's visit a more welcome guest appeared at the Long's, in the person of Johnnie Burnet. Pamela found her cousin even more objectionable than on their first acquaint- ance, partly, perhaps, because he was more polite and marked in his attentions to her.. But Mrs. Long took a favourable view of her nephew's character, and hoped for great con- sequences from his visit. "He seems so fond of our dear Pamela," she wrote to Anne, " and I cannot but hope much good may arise from their liking for one another." A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. S"/ " That is nonsense," said Anne to her hus- band, laying down the letter. " Pamela hates the very sight of him." " I'll tell you what, Anne," answered Joe, hitting his hst on the table ; " I want to keep friendly with all your folks, and I'm as fond of Pamela as if she was my own sister ; but if ever she goes and marries that confounded young jackanapes, I'll be hanged if her husband shall ever darken my doors." " You are a great stupid ! " said Anne. " Pamela would as soon eat him as marry him." In fact, Anne had expressed her sister's sentiments very truly ; but it was long before Johnnie discovered them. There was no Joe Turrell to open his eyes in this case, and his faculties were by no means acute. But by degrees it became pretty evident to him that Pamela would have nothing to say to him, and that if she had been less unfavourably disposed, even motives of ecomony would hardly justify him in taking to himself such a firebrand of a wife. He returned to Manchester early in 88 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. March, leaving Mrs. Long much clisapponited, and Pamela as greatly relieved at his departure. Johnnie himself was by no means discouraged, and told himself as he travelled home that of the three girls he had always liked little Emilia far the best. " One might manage her," he reflected ; " but as for those great strapping girls ! " Mrs. Long was ill again after her nephew left, and Pamela stayed on with her till the end of April. Then at last the climax came to her impatience. She ran into her aunt's room one morning with an open letter in her hand. " Oh, Aunt Carry ! " she cried, " you must let me go home now. Anne has a little daughter ! The letter is from father. There is a lot more news. Mr. Ouicke is ill, he says. But I have hardly read it. Do let me go home now." " Of course you shall go if you like, child. Give me the letter. I want to hear all about Anne." " And you don't think me ungrateful, auntie ? " " If you are, I suppose you can't help it. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 89 Pdmela. At any rate, you shall go home when you like." And so the time of Pamela's banishment came to an end, and she was back at Mere- hampstead in time to keep the first anniversary of her sister's wedding-day. She was glad to find herself once more among old familiar scenes and faces, and to be able to hear some news of Harold now and then from those who were not unfriendly to him. Nevertheless, as the summer went on life seemed to be growing a little grey and sad to her, and her thoughts often went back longingly to last year with its hopes and troubles. Hopes and troubles seemed to have alike ended for her now, for a time at any rate. Rose Hall was a sombre place in those days. Mrs. Burnet seemed to succumb suddenly to age and infirmity. A few days' illness reduced her from a healthy, bustling old woman to a querulous invalid ; and though she had occasional revivals of her old activity they were fitful and short-lived, and she never again took her old place in the house. As her grandmother's star sunk in the 90 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. domestic horizon, Pamela's rose. Perhaps it was well for her that she had to partly lay aside her old dreams and turn nurse and housekeeper. People who did not know her were surprised to find how well she performed her duties, and no one more so than her father. " What a good little woman you are getting," he said to her one day when he found Jier busy over a book of house accounts. " You will make as good a wife as Anne some day." But in spite of such scraps of praise she often found her life a very weary one, and won- dered whether Harold would never come back and kindle the old fires of love and happiness. She had two friends, however, who helped her through her time of waiting. They were Mr. Ouicke and her little niece. Mr. Quicke had lost his mother shortly before Pamela returned from London, and though he never made any allusion to his troubles she always associated his ill-health and poor spirits at the time with this loss. Now that Harold was away, he resumed his organ playing on Saturday evenings, and A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 9 1 very often had Pamela for a listener. She would creep into the dim church to her old place by the font, and sit with half-closed eyes dreaming that she heard Harolds foot- step on the pavement and his voice close behind her. Nowhere could she bring his image so keenly before her as there, and in the old boat-house where she had parted from him, and where, long after, she would go and lean her tired head upon the same old box, and cry for her dream and her happy awakening to come back to her once more. But it was not only with his music that Mr. Ouicke helped her. He had news of Harold some- times, and in the midst of his own sadness and failing health, he would generally find some cheering words for Pamela. He lent her books too, and sometimes read her bits of the long letters he had from George Lynton who could not get on without some corre- spondent in Pamela's vicinity. Little Nancy was her other comforter. From the first she was a fat, determined baby, of an aggressive but affectionate nature, and very fond of her 92 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. aunt. By the time she was old enough to take notice and crow, a firm friendship was esta- bhshed between them, and the child would even leave her mother's lap to come to Pamela. " Nancy," she said one day, taking the child in her arms, " you will grow up some day and find you can turn me round your fat little fingers, if I don't put the curb on you now ; and who knows what terrible scrape you may lead me into ? " " That will be true enough," said Anne, " if you go on spoiling the child in the way you do now. But you won't be allowed when she is bigger." " I'm sure she is a very good little thing," remarked Mrs. Campeny, in a condescending tone, " though she is nothing like the size her father was at her age. You should have seen the legs he had ! " " Never mind," said Anne, good-temperedly; " I shouldn't care for Nancy to have legs quite like Joe when she grows up." " I dare say she is very well, Mrs. Joe dear; you see I never had experience with girls." A STORV OF THREE SISTERS. 93 " I shall be o"lad when she ofets old enoueh for you to talk of her as if she were a human creature and not a little pig," said Pamela. " Her temper is at least quite as remarkable as her arms and legs, but you never mention that. Why is it Nancy's cardinal virtue to be fat ? " " Pamela knows so much about babies since she is an aunt," laughed Anne. It was an unwelcome moment when she had to put the little thing down and go back to the dim old house, where Richard Burnet was still poring hopelessly over his papers in the study, and his mother was sitting inactive in • the parlour, droning out a lecture to Emilia over the fire. Emilia orrew and blossomed in the dullness. She had a fine appetite, slept soundly at nights, and was very happy on the whole. 94 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. CHAPTER VII. " No fear ! — or if a fear be born This minute, it dies out in scorn. Fear ? I shall see her in three days And one night, now the nights are short, Then just two hours, and that is morn." While Pamela was plodding on in her round of monotonous duties, there were two people, living stirring and active lives in the busy world, whose hearts still turned to her faith- fully, and who, among the multitude of their thoughts, ever kept her image as bright and as dearly cherished as ever. George Lynton came home in time from his foreign rambles, and soon after went to Oxford. He paid a few short visits to Stourton, and always managed on these occa- sions to see Pamela at least once. As they seldom met more than twice durinof each A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 95 stay he made at home, Mrs. Lynton made no objection, and concluded that his foohsh fancy was dying a natural death as he grew older. At first he had made up his mind that it would be his privilege at least to worship Pamela in the far distance, perhaps at some time to smooth the path for her and for Harold. While his friend was away he would guard her for him. She should not be quite without a friend as lono- as he had occasional access to her; and the day might come when he could materially assist them both, and place within their reach that happiness which was unattain- able for them now. He felt very strong and proud in his integrity, and in his faithfulness to his friend. He thought when he had made up his mind to suffer loss in his own person he had anticipated the worst. Honour and the esteem of those he loved, these he told himself he could never fail of, and while they remained he could look life in the face bravely. Meantime Harold was leading a very pleasant life abroad. After his year at Munich he was travelling about, seldom heard 96 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. of — for he was the worst of correspondents — but writing now and then a hasty note to his mother and besforino- for news. Mrs. Turrell responded to this request by descanting on the severity of the weather, telhng him Mrs. Campeny was laid up with bronchitis, or com- puting the rate of mortahty among her broods of chickens during the past month. The good lady quite failed to understand that " news " meant news of Pamela Burnet, and no one else. One day there was a short passage in her letter which caused Harold a little tingle of surprise, which soon passed away. "Mr. George is back from college," she wrote. "He is for ever running over to Squire Burnet's, and they say his mamma is much put out at it, not considering that sort of thing nice in a young gentleman like him, and no more do I." Harold had been away from home about two years and a half when he received this letter. As he read it a great desire came over him to go back to Merehampstead. He looked out into the soft June air, and remem- A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 97 bered how calm and bright the lowland sky- would be on such a day, with great level bars of white stretching across the blue. He thought of the tall lilies that grew in the little walled garden at Rose Hall, and the stiff standard roses on either side of the path, and of Pamela's slim, stately figure passing up and down ; and for the first time a great home-sickness came over him. Georee too was there, and he had good reasons for wish- ing to see and thank the friend who had largely contributed to his successes, such as they had been, Harold's fortune seemed to be rising at last. George had been the means of introducing him to an amateur musical society, which had been lately esta- blished by his friend and old school-fellow. Lord Desslngton, and which was greatly in need of a rising young genius to take under its wing. The Dessingtonians had petted and made much of Harold. They had published some of his works at their own expense, and had even performed one of his concertos at their concerts ; — and very VOL, n, H 98 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. badly they did it, as he informed the noble conductor with his customary frankness. "It was very good of you all to work at it as you did, though," he allowed, " I must say I feel ashamed of my offspring. The instru- mentation is wretchedly weak, and I don't think it could have been anything but a failure, even if the violins had not gone all wrong in the andante. " Never mind, old boy," said Lord Dessing- ton, slapping him on the back cheerfully. " We'll try the overture to Don Quixote on Wednesday, and I'll stake my head that goes all right." But by the time Wednesday came Harold had given his patron the slip, and was on his way to Merehampstead. How his heart rose as they left the narrow streets of Stratford behind them, and went bowling out into the open country. How dull and insensitive he had been all the time of his absence from Pamela. Now his eyes seemed freshly opened to the brightness of the sky, and the sweetness of the wayside flowers as they A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 99 passed. Once when they changed horses, he got down and gathered a great spray of opal- tinted dog-roses. They were Pamela's favourite flowers, and always reminded him of her with their wild grace and delicate tints. He slept that night at a quaint little manor-house near Colchester, where lived some friends whom he had met abroad, and whom he had promised to visit on the first opportunity. It was a night of sweet, hazy dreams and happy wakefulness. He watched the heavy bunches of the cluster roses stirring softly in the moonlight outside his window, and the stars shining through little feather-like clouds, and dropped into a half doze, only to be roused by the distant song of a nightingale, till at last with the dawn he fell into sounder sleep, and woke to find the sun high in the sky, shining in all his midsummer glory. Presently he found himself once more on his journey. He had secured the box seat, and the driver was old Dickens, and there was so much news to hear, and so many questions to ask, that the mile-stones seemed, lOO A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. to this one traveller at least, to fly past. Dickens was very communicative. " Changes ? Oh, yes, of course there had been changes in two year and a half, but nothing very particular either. Old Lord Lynton Avas nigh as hearty as ever. Mr. George looked delicate like. Folks said he and the old gentleman didn't get on together, Mr. Ouicke wasn't at all the man he used to be but Dickens believed him to be a match for most lawyers yet, notwithstanding. As for the Cartwrights, hadn't Mr. Harold heard what had happened to the Cartwrights ? " " I think I remember my mother said Mn Cartwright had made a lot of money, and had turned his back on the bank," replied Harold ; "but I dare say it wasn't such a great rise in the world as she thought." Then Dickens told him a lone and sufficiently melancholy story of how Mr. Cartwright had given up his share in the Merehampstead bank and embarked in some mercantile venture, which had brought him in a fabulous fortune at first, and had fully enabled A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. Id him to gratify his wife's ambition to be a great lady as long as it lasted. They had gone to live in London, and wonderful stories had travelled down to their old home of the splendour of their establishment, and the great- ness of their resources. Dickens could testify how he had himself seen Miss Julia riding In Hyde Park on a beautiful chestnut mare, the likes of which had never been seen In the Stourton stables, even though the old Lord had had some pretty pieces of horseflesh in former days, too. The end of all this mag- nificence had been sudden ruin, so complete as to give no hope of reparation. The un- fortunate man was found dead in his bed soon after the blow fell. It was feared at first that he had laid violent hands on himself, " but I think it was his mind as gave way," said the old coachman, shaking his head sorrowfully, "and he went off in a fit like." He could tell nothing of what had happened to Julia and her mother. He did not think any one knew where they were living — not any one in Mere, at least. I02 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. This was the first cloud on Harold's home- coming. His heart felt very sore for his little play-fellow, who, he reflected, must be a young" woman of seventeen now, with all her prospects, for life shattered, just as she was growing up.. He sat]sad and silent, watching the hedges go by, without even heart to direct Dickens' flood of gossip in the direction of Rose Hall. " They du say Mr. George tried to find out Miss July and her mother when first the bad news came. But it all ended in talk. Young gentlemen have their own selves to manage for,, and that's more nor they can always du, I fancy," said the old man, with a wink that implied that he could impart most important secrets to Harold about his friend's doings, if he liked. " What do you mean ? " said Harold. " Well,[shewerly yew know. Master Harold,, being connected like with the family." " What family ? " "Well, Miss Pamela be Mrs. Joe's sister, and that is as good as your own cousin, ain't it ? She is a fine lass. Not that any of us A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. IO3 thought to see her the lady of Stourtoii either. Theyjiave always married into county families, have the Lyntons, and mostly titled folks like themselves. They du say the old Lord is set dead agen it, and Mrs. Lynton too, but lor', I shouldn't wonder if the young'uns get their own way, all said and done." " What tomfoolery you are talking, Dickens. Miss Pamela Burnet marry a schoolboy like George Lynton, indeed ! I suppose it is that you are driving at, and I'll tell you what,- — you may tell the Mere folks one and all, if they can't keep their tongues from fouling that lady's name in future, they will find themselves with their heads punched, be they many or few." " No one went for to foul her name," beean Dickens sulkily. " They had better leave her name alone altogether then, and you too, Dickens," said the young man between his teeth. " The story about George Lynton is a d d lie." He leant back in his seat and took refuee in sullen silence. He did not believe one I04 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. word of the story ; but why was George so careless as to orive any opening for the Mere- hampstead gossips, to allow her name to be bandied about with coarse jokes by people who did not know her, and who perhaps never could know her goodness and purity ? He felt glad now that he had fixed no certain date for his arrival, for there would be no gig waiting for him in Merehampstead, and he would be free to go home by any route he liked. He would certainly go straight to Rose Hall, sendino; his lueeasfe on to his mother's house. He knew there would be no peace for him till he had seen Pamela and touched her hand, till he had the assurance of her tell-tale eyes and clinging fingers to calm his restless heart. He made his peace with Dickens, and the two shook hands very heartily when they parted company at the " Dragon." "Come up to the Little Farm while I'm at home," said Harold, "and we'll have a glass of ale together ; and tell 3'our old woman I'l be sure and come to her for a cup of tea before I go." A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. IO5 " Poor unlucky young fellar," mused Dickens, as he watched liim down the street ; " shewer enough he has come home to a dis- appointment. And how he fired up at my speaking of her ! I am afraid she is an un- thankful young hussy for all her pretty face." But Harold was walkino- on in the Qflowinof evening, his eyes wet with happy tears, and his heart beating high with hope. T06 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. CHAPTER VIII. " If he could know, if he could know, What love, what love, his love should be ! " They were haymaking- at Rose Hall, and Anne had come over to spend the day, bringing little Nancy with her. Mrs. Long was there also, enjoying a summer holiday, and the sweet smell of the hay. Towards evening, she was hovering about between the home meadow and the open door of the walled garden ; the sisters were busy with their long rakes, scatter- ing the grass in the air, and chatting merrily over their work. The maids were all out of doors helping, and even Mrs. Burnet had had her arm-chair carried out into the garden, that she might see what was going on. Mrs. Long was strolling up and down between the rose trees when she heard the A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. IO7 unwonted sound of the rusty old knocker, and she it was who opened the door to admit Harold Turrell. She felt a little afraid of him at the first glance ; he had grown so broad and manly-looking since they last met ; his fair hair w^as blowing about his face in the draught of the open door, and his eyes looked eager .and determined ; but she quickly collected her forces, and asked him to step into the parlour in her usual pleasant tones. " The girls are out in the meadow hay- making," she said. " They will be so pleased to see you, but now I have you here, you must tell me a little news first. I am so longing to hear how you have been getting on. We are going to be very proud of you, you know, Mr. Turrell. You are our first genius, and when you have made a name, all the good folks of Merehampstead will have something to boast of." It was in vain Harold tried to get out into the meadow. She had a stream of small talk and questions to pour forth, and would neither send for Pamela nor let him escape. At last he Io8 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. saw he must take the matter Into his own hands. To be kept there hstening to Mrs. Long's chatter, with Pamela only a few steps from him, was too unbearable. He got up and made a move to the door. " Don't hurry off," cried Mrs. Long. " You have told me all your news very nicely, but you haven't listened to mine." " I should like to go out and speak to Miss Pamela," he said, with his hand on the door, " and my time is short." " Ah ! it is about our dear girl I want to tell you some news." "Indeed!" Mrs. Long looked down and fingered her watch chain. " Do you ever hear from your friend, Mr. George Lynton, now ? " she asked in a low voice. " No, I don't," replied Harold, almost beside himself with vexation. " And you were such friends ! Now, really, did he drop the correspondence ? Lm sure you won't mind my asking." " I was lazy, and didn't answer his letters. I A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. IO9 suppose he got tired of writing. It is hardly- fair to say he dropped it. And now, ]\Irs. Long, I think I'll go out." " One moment, Mr. Turrell, I assure you it is for your own sake I detain you. I thought you would have heard from your friend all I have to tell you." "What do you mean?" said Harold, rearing himself against the door, and shaking back his hair. " You used to be fond of Pamela when you were both quite young — boy and girl together, I may say ; and I can't help telling you of her good fortune, though nothing is settled quite yet, and I am trusting to you to be discreet and not let out a word, particularly if Mr. George has not told you. Of course, he wishes to arrange everything so that there may not be any clashing with his family. Not but what he is his own master, or, at least, will be in a few jfiionths ; but I'm sure we don't want to have any disagreeables with Mrs. Lynton ; so we only treat him just as a friend, and there is no formal engagement between the two, though no A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. any one can see with half an eye how much they are attached to one another. I thought, as an old friend of the family, I'd better tell you, Mr. Turrell. It is as well young gentle- men should know when young ladies are bespoke, you know," she added, with a sickly smile. " You don't mean to tell me that Pamela is in love with George Lynton — a boy younger than herself. There are bounds even to my credulity, Mrs. Long ! " " Only two years younger," she said gently. And then she came and laid her hand on his, and looked at him with such kind, womanly eyes that he could not quite disbelieve her, and felt his heart really quake for the first time. " My dear Mr. Harold," she said, " I am afraid you were more fond of my niece at one time than you should have been, and she thought more than we liked about you; but you know it could never come to anything, and, with her at least, it has proved but a passing fancy. We are expecting Mr. Lynton here this evening, and when you have once seen them together you A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. I I I will believe what I see no words of mine will ever persuade you of. Why should you not be glad that your two friends should be happy together ? In spite of their difference of posi- tion they are admirably suited, and Pamela is fitted to be a rich man's wife. I am sorry to hurt you, but is it not better to tell you all at once ? If you do not believe me, you may ask any one round about. Though there is no acknowledged engagement, every one knows of the attachment, and will tell you of George's devotion. Ah ! Mr. Harold, there are troubles connected with all this grandeur. Perhaps it would have been better if she had loved some one in her own station of life. I am sure if your circumstances had been better, we would have gladly given her to you three years ago ; " and Mrs. Long wiped some very sincere tears out of her eyes. ** You are asking me to believe that the two persons I believe in best in the world are false," he said, looking her searchingly in the face. "Why false? You never avowed more 112 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. than common friendship for Pamela. I am sure George never dreamt that you had any other feehno^." " And she ? " " A fine-feehng girl is the last person to find out that a man is in love with her. You never spoke to her, did you ? " she asked sharply. " No," said Harold, clenching his fist in an agony of regret; " I was afraid of making her miserable, and I thought she would remember me. " You have behaved very honourably, and have probably saved her and yourself much unhappiness," said Mrs. Long. " I can't tell you how sorry I feel for you, dear Mr. Harold. '^ She was really a soft-hearted woman, and when she saw him sit down despairingly and hide his white face in his hands, she brought out her pocket-handkerchief, and cried over him quite as copiously as if it had not been her own hands that had sent his fair castle of hopes tumbling about his ears. She felt quite sure of George's devotion to Pamela, and was certain A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. I 1 3 that all would be well between them if only Harold could be kept out of the way. Perhaps she had gone a little too far in assuring him that the affection was mutual ; but Pamela was so close, and really no one could prove from her conduct that she was not off with the old love, and on with the new. Surely, Mrs. Long thought, she was at liberty to consider that as the state of things, when circumstances demanded that she should act promptly. " I am sure I hope you will be comforted in time," she said, as she saw him off from the door-step, "and that you won't think unkindly of me because I have been forced to be the bearer of evil tidings." But he seemed to take no notice of her words, and walked slowly down towards the gate, only lifting his hat to her mechanically as he went. Once outside the great gateway, a sickening desire came over him to get back, to see her once more, even if she had been false to him. He had thought so longingly of the first moment of seeing her, the thrill of her VOL. n. I 114 -^ STORY OF THREE SISTERS. touch, the first sound of her voice ! If she would give him one happy moment it would be a little payment, a drop in the great ocean of love which she owed him, and would never pay. He could not go back again to the house and face Mrs. Long, but he would skirt round the home-meadow where she had said they were, and come upon her unawares. He crept along the fields, bent and weary like an old man, and when he 8fot round to the middle of the back of the house, he knelt down and looked through an opening in the palings. This was what he saw. It was a still, luminous twilight, such as only belongs to midsummer weather. Just over the trees, on the right side of the house, hung the great, newly risen moon, in a sky so clear that it seemed neither to require nor receive any light but its own. The hay-cocks looked white and dewy on the green of the newly cut grass. Through the open garden door he could see the stiff rows of roses, and beyond them the mellow brickwork of the old house. The three sisters had paused in their A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. I 1 5 work, but seemed loth to part with their long rakes. Anne, grown handsome and matronly, stood shouldering hers ; Emilia's was half dropping from her languid fingers. In the centre stood Pamela, with little Nancy In her arms. She had a quaint patterned lilac cotton gown on, and a dusky red ribbon threadlng through her hair. She looked a little thinner and graver than when he had parted from her at Mrs. Long's door, and there was a wistful listening look on her face, as If she were always watching for something which did not come. It was not the face of a woman who could forget ; as he looked at her, a thousand memories rushed Into his heart of the old days, and gave the lie to Mrs. Long's story. He thouofht of the time when he had found her In the dusk in Merehampstead church, of their parting in the boat-house, and their last meet- ing in London. Surely she had loved him then, though there had been no sjDoken words between them, and if she had loved him once, then she loved him for ever ; there was no changefulness written on that broad, steadfast I 1 6 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. brow, and those lips a little compressed with quiet patience. No wonder she had grown heart-sick waiting for him through those weary years, he thought, with a glow of love and pity. Even now she was waiting — surely it was for him. There was the sharp ring of a horse's hoofs on the road outside ; in the clear, grey light he could see her face change, the brows unbend, the lips relax into the softer lines of hope. She listened a moment, then set little Nancy gently down, and went away through the open door, and up the garden path. " It is Mr. George," said Emilia, breaking the spell of silence at last. " We may as well put by the things, she won't come out any more," and she began collecting the hay-rakes. Anne made a little gesture of impatience. " Come, Nancy darling," she said, " auntie has run away, and it is time for little girls to go home to bed." As they went in they met Pamela and George Lynton on the door steps. " Mrs. Joe," said the latter, as he shook hands, "your cousin Harold has arrived. I A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. II7 liave just seen little Bill Dickens, and he says he came down with his father to-night by the mail. How glad we shall all be to see him." He forbore any glance at Pamela, but Anne looked at her for a moment. The light, which had faded from her face when George and she had met, sprang up brighter than ever. At last — at last he was really come; in a day or two at latest she must see him ; he might be ever so near at that moment. He was nearer than she thought, but was walking breathlessly across the dewy fields, he scarcely knew whither, only longing to get away from her presence — from her memory, alas ! there was no escape. At last he stumbled upon the turnpike road ; then he turned round and saw Mere- hampstead behind him. The tall church tower rose against the faint glow which still lingered in the west, the moonlight caught on the slated roofs here and there, and lost itself in the light mist wreaths that floated up from the marshes. Everything was so still about him that he could hear the faint hum from the distant town, and the voices of children I 1 8 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. from the cottages under the church cHff piercing- the air now and then. He turned his back upon it with a muttered curse, and walked on eastwards. His thoughts grew cahner as he went; he was determined even then to do no injustice to the woman he had loved, or the friend he had liked. That he might have won her love once he felt sure : all the sweet looks which he had seen her wear for George to-night,, she had worn for him in those old days when George was nothing but a precocious, senti- mental schoolboy. But a woman's affection proved a slighter thing than he had thought, silence and absence together were more than it could bear ; a word from her then would have chained her to him for ever, but she was not, as he had fondly thought, strong enough to be true to him without that word. George, with his winning ways and handsome face, close at hand, became more to her than a greater love which she could neither see nor hear ; his honourable silence, his patience and tenderness,., were all a mistake ; if he had fallen at her A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 1 9 feet and liuncr his arms round her in the first moment of passion, she would have been his — but would she have been worth the gaining on such terms ? He told himself no, a thousand times ; neither she nor anything in the world seemed worth his taking now. The fairest fruit of all had turned to ashes between hi^ teeth, he would as soon as not fling all the rest after it. His very goodness and self- denial turned round to make a mock at him, for had they not led him like will-o'-the-wisps into this slough of despond ? His art hid her head : she had no consolation to give. Was she not a plaything for fine dilettante young gentlemen like George, w^ho, when they were tired of such innocent diversions, would turn to deadlier pleasures, and drink the heart's blood of poorer men like w-ater ? There is some suffering which, as far as human wisdom can see, has ho outcome in good, w^hich makes us sadder but not wiser, which rends the heart with wounds for which no balm is ever found in this life. Harold's sorrow was of that kind. It wTought great I20 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. changes in him, and at the end of that short midsummer night, when he stood weary and footsore in the streets of a town, he looked at the reddening east with hard, defiant eyes, and told himself his old life had passed away from him for ever, and at least he could see the world now, free from glamour such as had gilded all material things in old days. He had wandered all the way to Becker- mouth, and between the narrow rows of houses he could see the far-stretching grey sea, quivering under the dawn. Nature had often told him of rest and hope, and joy coming after sorrow, and he had listened and taken comfort. What false comfort it had been ! He was wiser now, he thought, as he turned away and walked down the silent street to the inn, where in time he succeeded in rous- ing a sleepy servant-maid, and getting shown to a room. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS- 121 CHAPTER IX. " Only, for man, how bitter not to grave On his soul's hand's palms one fair, good, wise thing Just as he grasped it ! For himself death's wave While time first washes — ah, the sting ! — O'er all he'd sink to save." Harold's sudden disappearance caused no little surprise in Merehampstead. Mrs. Turrell, fortunately, did not know of his arrival till the next morning, when the boy came over from the " Dragon " bringing his boxes. Almost at the same time, a messenger appeared from Beckermouth, with a letter to request that the things might be sent on to him there, and adding that he should not be in Merehamp- stead for some time, at all events. The letter was extremely vague, and gave no reasons for his sudden change of plans. 122 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. " Did you ever know such a boy," ex- claimed Mrs. Turrell ; " and his room ready and everything, and the chicken pie baked just as he Hkes it. Not that we ever eat pastry and such stuff, I'm sure ! " "It is strange, certainly," said Mrs. Cam- peny, turning the letter up and down, and examining the corners, lest any undiscovered information should lurk somewhere concealed. " I don't think he has any right to keep folks on pins and needles in that way," said Anne, who had looked in to hear the news. She remembered Pamela's anxious face, and felt indiornant. "Well, don't begin to pick holes in his doings till you know the cause," put in his mother. " May be he has gone to see some of his quality friends ; it is not like Harold to go running all over the country without any why or wherefore." In the afternoon George called to make inquiries. He was much surprised to find that his friend had given no reason for his non-appearance,, and like Anne, he felt even A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 23 more angry than astonished. He longed to go and cheer up Pamela, and make these days of waiting less tedious to her, but he was not sure that she had heard of Harold's disappear- ance, and he could not bear to be the first to carry the evil tidings to her. He was more puzzled and pained than he liked to own even to himself, and shut himself up in the music- room when he got home, and tried to draw some consolation from his orofan. Of course the news soon travelled to Rose Hall, and Pamela learnt how her friend's visit, so long expected, had ended suddenly and mysteriously. But she was not the only member of the family disquieted by the in- telligence. To do Mrs. Long justice, she was very unhappy at the state of things her inter- ference had brought about, and she was many times on the verge of confessing what a hand she had had in getting Harold out of Mere- hampstead. But confession becomes difficult when delayed ; no one had any idea of Harold's visit, and she could not give the slightest hint of what had happened without making an 124 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. enormous sensation among her neighbours, as well as within the Rose Hall party. Further- more, Pamela's looks frightened her. The girl went about the house with a face so drawn and altered by the pain of a few days, that her aunt could no longer justify to herself the story she had told of her faithlessness. Pamela bore her suffering silently and bravely; but the wolf was there, gnawing at her heart all the time, and leaving, day by day, deeper traces of its presence. Why was she so reticent before, Mrs. Long asked herself, if she cared so much about it ? After all, she had done what was best, and it would all come right in the end, when Pamela was Lady Lynton of Stourton. In the meantime, it was better to say nothing of the interview with Harold ; it would most likely come out some day, when all danger was over, and it would not matter. However, Mrs. Long was not sorry to be making her preparations to leave for home, for Rose Hall was getting a dismal house, and conscience pricked sharply sometimes. Emilia was going up to town A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 25 with her aunt, and was as gay as a bird until this cloud descended over the house, and en- veloped even her. " You do look so wretched, Pamela," she said to her sister one morning-, as she was folding her dresses, ready to pack. " Is it that you have got the headache or what ? Are you thinking how dull it will be when Aunt Carry and I are gone ? because I am sure I would rather stop at home for ever than see you look as you do sometimes now." " I'm very glad you should go, my dear little sister, and I'm not wretched at all, only rather out of sorts, I think." " I'm sure you ought to be happy if any one ought ; I heard Aunt Carry saying last night, it isn't many girls have such luck as you have." " Don't listen to every thing Aunt Carry says, Emilia, she doesn't always mean it." " Well, she said last night to grannie that you might marry George Lynton, if you liked to hold up your finger," said Emilia, nodding her head knowingly. " And I believe that, 126 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. for I heard Peggy saying the very same thing to old Jones, over at Anne's one day." " They have no right to use my name or his in such a way," said Pamela, flushing. " It is pardonable in the servants, who are gossips by nature, but as for Aunt Carry, it is down- right wicked of her. I suppose she wants to take away the only friend I have left." " I think it is wicked of you to talk like that," rejoined Emilia, wiping her eyes, "when you have two sisters who love you, not to speak of any one else. And why shouldn't you marry George Lynton, pray ? I am sure he is fond enough of you, always coming after you as he is." " I have very good reasons of my own, but I think it ought to be enough for my friends that I could not be looked upon as anything but an interloper in such a family as the Lyntons. Do you think I should submit to that ? " ** They couldn't look upon you as anything but Mrs. Lynton of Stourton, once you were married," remarked Emilia, with considerable acuteness. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 27 " Come, fold up your dresses, child, and talk no more folly. That title of honour will never be mine, so set your mind at rest. If you hear Peggy chattering any more, tell her to hold her tongue ; Aunt Carry, I suppose, can't be settled so easily ; above all, don't you go setting such ideas floating. Mr. George is very kind to me, and I don't want to have him forbidden the house." In spite of her boast, Pamela felt dull and lonely when she was left alone in the house with her father and grandmother. It seemed like a foretaste of what all her future life was to be ; she, who was to be left behind while the stream of events flowed on, bringing joys and sorrows, difficulties and victories to others, but nothing to her but a share in other people's lives the privilege of rejoicing at other people's weddings, and caressing other people's chil- dren. " Well, Pamela," said Mrs. Burnet, the first morning they were alone, " I am sure I hope Emilia will do better for herself than you have done. I never had the advantages you have 128 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. had when I was a girl, and you seem Hke to be an old maid after all. After your visits to London too, and seeing so many folks, and here you are going a-begging still, and nigh upon three-and-twenty ! " "I'm not going a-begging, thank you, grand- mother. I suppose there must be one old maid in the family. I'll stop at home, and take care of you and father." " I don't fancy you'll be troubled with me long, and I make no doubt but your father would sooner see you settled in a home of your own, particularly when he can't leave you well — far from it." " Never mind, mother," said Richard, flinch- ing at the allusion ; " she will be provided for ; we don't know what good fortune there is in store for her yet ; " and he patted his daughter's head hopefully as he passed out of the room. He was thinking of his literary earnings that never came, but there was something of pro- phecy in the w^ords for all that. Pamela saw nothing of George Lynton for some time after her aunt left. His whole rela- A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 29 tions to her were upset by Harold's conduct, and he scarcely dared to trust himself in her presence until things were made clearer to him. His first feelings of bewilderment had given way to those of anger and indignation, when weeks passed and no explanation came from his friend, till at length the climax was put to these feelings by a letter from Lord Dessington, which seemed to throw some light upon Harold's behaviour. " I never knew such an uncertain fellow as Turrell," he wrote. "Just as we were in the midst of rehearsing an overture of his for the concert on the 20th of last month, he vanished, and we had to re-cast our whole programme at the last moment. I know he is in town now, for I passed him at Knightsbridge the other day, walking Avith a buxom, rosy-cheeked young- woman. He seemed offended at my taking a curious look at the lady ; in fact, I felt inquisi- tive to know who his friend was, for I had seen her before. Where, you ask ? At Drury Lane, my dear boy, gracefully attired in spangles and gauze, and not much of that. He has never VOL. II. K 130 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. appeared at Hanover Square and I fancy he means to have no more to do with us, so don't think I have been lukewarm to your protegd, my dear Lynton, for I would have been his friend if I could." The next day George rode over to Rose Hall. All obligations to Harold were at an end now ; if he could win Pamela's love, he told himself, he might still save her. But he started on his wooing with a heavy heart. There was an atmosphere of falsehood, treachery, impurity, pressing even round the woman he loved ; he would have given not only his own hopes of success, but everything he possessed in the world, to have brought back his old happy faith in his friend, — to have been able to put Harold's hand in hers, and feel that it was not unworthy to touch her palm. He found her at work in the little walled garden. Her face was worn and sad looking, though It was a little flushed with exercise. She was quite touchingly glad to see him ; indeed, the tears rose to her eyes as she held A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. I3I out her hands to greet him ; but this passed away in a few moments, and she became unusually silent and constrained. Emilia's foolish gossip would keep ringing in her head ; besides, George's manner had under- gone more change than he was aware of; he had meant to keep to his old friendly, almost brotherly, bearing, but the attempt was scarcely successful, and Pamela's newly developed con- sciousness exaggerated every shade of differ- ence. It was a trying time to her, but to him it seemed full of subdued hope. Her first happy love he could never have, but was there nothing to come after that ? Surely a heart so great and true could find in time some little gift to bestow upon such devotion as his. There must always be a want in such a union he knew — neither his life nor hers could ever be full and perfect, but he would ■do his best to gather up such fragments of happiness as remained to them, to preserve her beautiful nature from utter ruin and loss. He told himself he would be content with usch little kindness as she could give him, if 132 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. only she would consent to take of his best^ to let him spend and be spent for her ; that was all that was left him to desire. The same summer sun that looked down upon the two young people in the garden was also shining brightly into ]\Ir. Quiche's shabby parlour, making the dust on the furniture look like golden powder, and giving rise to dreadful reflections in Mrs. Campeny's mind as to the iniquities of bachelors housemaids. The old woman in her neat gingham gown, sat looking the personification of freshness and neatness, and quite illuminating the ding}' room, though there was an unusual cloud of trouble on her brow. ]\Ir. Ouicke was holding an open letter in his hand, his eyebrows worked up and down as he read, and his lips screwed themselves into a variety of grimaces, highly expressive of vexation and disgust. It seemed as if he could hardly credit what he read, for he turned back and back again to the beginning of the letter, and went through it more carefully every time. This was how the epistle ran — A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 33 "' My DEAR Mother, " I had moved from my old lodgings and only got your letter last week. I am sorry my sudden change of plans disturbed you so much : there is no use in explaining, but I had good reasons for my movements, though they were sudden. For the present I cannot come to INIerehampstead. I came across an old and kind friend the other day, to whom I have been able to be of some use, and as long as I can assist her I cannot leave London. It is poor Julia Cartwright. I met her in the street one night, an orphan, completely unprotected, and very poor; she had been gaining her living in the only honest way she knew of or could take to — acting little parts at one of the theatres. Please do not mention this to the scandal- lovino- folks of Mere. I will take care she does not fall back into such a life ; she is a eood-hearted <jirl, and more faithful to her friends in her adversity than the more pros- perous are. Her mother has been dead about two months, she says. Please keep all 134 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. this to yourself, for Julia's sake, and believe me, your dutiful son, " Harold Turrell." "Why the deuce can't he alloy his. benevolence with a little common sense," said Mr. Ouicke, as he threw down the letter. *' Pretty things people will say of the girl ! " "He was always so rash and hasty," said Mrs. Campeny, "and kind-hearted to a fault, poor fellow. He has had something to upset him, depend upon it ; it is not like him to write to his mother in that short, hard sort of way." " And what did he want to fly off at a tangent like that for, when he came down in June, and he won't even explain ? " " And I don't pretend to, either ; but he had a reason, or thought he had, I'll be bound." " Well, that isn't saying much for him, but you always stood his friend, Mrs. Campeny." " Yes," answered the old woman, " and so I always will. And Julia Cartwright's too, if needs be." A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 35 "She will want friends, as far as I can see, particularly female ones — excuse me for saying so — if this state of things goes on. And what do you mean to do ? " " I have been persuading Mrs. Turrell to write to him to send her down here. It is better we should take care of her than he. She wouldn't hear of it at first, but she seems inclined to give in now, and at last she said she would abide by your opinion, sir, so I just came over to ask." " You have been as wise as you always are, Mrs. Campeny ; perhaps I had better write her a line, if you don't mind waiting. I shall tell her I think she can't do better than send for the girl — poor thing." He looked up presentlyjfrom the writing- table, and gave a keen glance at his visitor. " How old should you say she is now ? " he asked. " Julia Cartwright ? Oh, between seventeen and eighteen." " Perhaps he means to marry her ? " " Perhaps, sir." 136 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. " Come, Mrs. Campeny, you may as well tell me all you know : didn't he look higher than Julia Cartwright, once upon a time ? " "Well, yes, I can't say but it was looking higher." " There is no need to discuss that," said the old man, waving his delicate little hand con- temptuously. "He has had a chance that should have fallen to a worthier man — that is all I can say." " It is hard to judge without knowing more, sir." " I don't know how you reconcile facts with your belief in him, Mrs. Campeny. I suppose he has the blessed illogical mind of woman to thank for it." " I don't reconcile it, as you call it, Mr. Ouicke. I just let it alone." " And you believe in him in spite of ap- pearances ? " " I'm a foolish old woman, I suppose," said Mrs. Campeny, rising and gathering her shawl round her. " And I do believe, in spite of it all, that he is a good, noble-minded young man, A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 37 and that there is something more at the bottom of his vagaries than you or I know of. If it was all quite clear to everybody there wouldn't be any call to 'believe' about it at all, I suppose. And now I'll say good day, Mr. Ouicke, and thank you kindly for the letter." " True to your sex you have had the last word, and I'm afraid the best one, too," said the old lawyer, as his visitor moved to the door. ■" Let me know if any more news comes, or if I can help in the arrangements about Julia." So it came about that Pamela heard nothing of Harold's doings, and the suspicions which his best friends cherished about him, and, as time went on, some little hope began once more to spring up in her mind that perhaps he was not quite indifferent to her after all. He might have had reasons for his sudden departure which she knew nothing of, and like Mrs. Campeny she was ready to believe in him blindly, as long as she could. Having once repented of her want of faith, she was not long in going to the other extreme of self-reproach, and at last came to the conclusion that she had 1.^8 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. O shown herself quite unworthy of Harold's love, by her foolish fears, and that, if he had really forgotten her, it would have been scarcely more than she [had deserved. Having reached this dejDth of humiliation, her spirits began to rise rapidly. The colour came back to her lips, the light to her eyes, and George, who had hoped to comfort her in her despair, was fairly broken down at the sight of her vain hopefulness, and banished himself from her presence altogether. He cursed Harold in his heart, and cursed his own folly for having trusted him, and allowing Pamela to drift on to this wreck and ruin. It was too late for any rescue now ; he could only sit by helplessly, with rage and despair in his heart, till the end came. It came one sunny July afternoon. She had some little commission to do at Mrs. Turrell's, and an hour or so before tea-time she took her marketing basket in her hand, and set out across the fields. " I will come and fetch you after tea," said her father, as he opened the door of the home meadow for her. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 39 " Oh, father ! but who will butter your toast for you at that rate ? " she asked gaily. " We'll take care of one another, child. Don't hurry back. Ouicke says I shut you up too much in this dull house ; I don't want to make an old woman of you before the time." There had been a heavy fall of rain in the early morning, and everything was sweet and fresh ; she went on cheerily through the fields of springing green corn, singing softly to her- self, and swinging her basket in time with the tune. She was not an old woman yet, at all events ; there was time for her to be sorry, if needs be, but glad in the end. The end — that was the great thing; the present could be borne with, so long as a glorious some-day shone in the far distance. And so she went on, taking comfort to herself, till she walked up through the prim privet hedges to Mrs. Turrell's open door, and then, seeing no one about, went right into the sittincr room. She found Mrs. Turrell all alone. She was sittinof in her laro-e horse- hair arm-chair, with some letters in her lap, and a damp looking pocket handkerchief held 140 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. to her eyes. Her collar had come unpinned^ and the violence of her distress seemed to have had a curious effect in screwing her cap to one side and ruffling; her blond hair. Pamela ran to her in alarm, knelt down by her side, and threw her arms round her waist. " Oh, what is the matter," she cried, "dear Mrs. Turrell, do tell me if you can." " I've had such bad news. I do wish Mrs. Campeny were at home," she sobbed in reply, " these things always come when one is alone — she would tell me what to do, but she is gone into town, you know, and then I'm afraid she'll go in to Anne's to tea." "Never mind, you shan't be alone. I'll stay and keep you company till she comes back. If it is anything you can't tell me," added the girl with a blush, " I can just sit with you, and be a little company, mayn't I ? " " Yes, dear ; such a good, kind girl you are ! I don't see any reason why I shouldn't tell you all about it. Of course you must know — everybody w^ill know in a few days ! " she added, with a fresh burst of tears. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. I4I Pamela's face grew white with terror. " I wish you would fold up the letters," she said, drawing back, " I can scarcely help seeing the writing — It is your son's. I could not help seeing that at the first glance, Mrs. Turrell, so I ought to tell you. There is one thing I cannot do any harm by asking, at any rate — he is not ill, is he ? " " No, no," cried the poor woman, rocking herself to and fro, " he's not ill, but oh, Pamela ! he has gone and disgraced himself so, and my family that were always so respectable, and so looked up to. He was always a bit wild, was Harold, but I couldn't have believed it of him, that I'm sure I couldn't, not if an angel had spoken it of my own child." " I think there must be some mistake about It," said Pamela. "If it Is not wrong to tell me what it is he has done, perhaps I could help you to find out." " I don't see any harm in telling you now. It is not nice to tell young women all the wickedness of the world, but ah ! they'll find It out soon enough for themselves. And this 142 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. can't be a secret for long ; and you and he were always friends, weren't you ? " Pamela felt her strength altogether failing her in this horrible uncertainty : " Oh, let me see the letters and have done with it ! " she cried, in the sharp accents of unbearable pain, and Mrs. Turrell, half frightened, yet half relieved to have some one to share her trouble, put the two packets into her hands. She had often dreamt of the days when Harold would write to her, but now for the first time she really held a letter of his in her hand. She felt a thrill of happy emotion through all her dread as her eyes met the large, untidy writing which she was familiar with on his manuscripts. Naturally enough she read the last letter first ; the other was the one which had been previously shown to Mr. Ouicke. " Dear Mother," Harold wrote, " Your offers for Julia are very kind, but no longer needed. I soon began to experience the evils you allude to. Julia is as innocent and A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 43 ignorant as a child, but that did not prevent some of my friends from staring at her im- pertinently in the street, and my female neigh- bours from applying titles to her which I will not repeat. I was bound to save her from this, — it was the fault of my own carelessness and folly. The slander is done with now, at any rate. We were married the day before yesterday, and there is no more to be said about it. She is very affectionate and good, poor little soul ! I only wish Heaven had sent her a better husband. I would send her to see you, but travelling is expensive and we are poor folks. By the way, I have changed my profession now I am a married man, I hope trade may be kinder to me than art has been. It is no use giving up everything for a thankless mistress, is it ? " Ever your dutiful son, " H. T." A perfect sense of unreality supported Pamela as she read this ; then she turned back to the first letter, and went slowly and 144 -A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. carefully through that. At last her mind seemed to strucr-orle throuQ-h the clouds of bewilderment that enveloped it. " Harold is married — Harold is married," she thought over to herself, like a child learning a lesson. She sat on the hearth-rug, quite motionless and silent, and watched a iiy crawling over the papers in her lap, till at last she became con- scious that Mrs. Turrell was watching her from behind the corner of her pocket-handker- chief. She folded up the letters and gave them back. "It is very sudden," was all she said. "It is like enough to break my heart, I know," replied the mother, relapsing into sobs. " I don't see why it should do that," said Pamela, rising to her feet ; " surely it was good of him to succour the poor girl in her want; and he had a right to marry her if he liked. There is nothino- dishonourable about it." " But to pick up the creature in the streets like that ; you don't know the world, child. And an actress too, everybody knows what they are." " I dare say they are very good, many of A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 45 them, and I am sure poor Julia was. I used to think I should like to be an actress myself, once upon a time," said Pamela, with a little wintry smile. " And a silly child you were then. No ; I can never feel any confidence in her after she has led such a life. To ' think folks should be able to say, ' her son married with a play-acting woman' — no, Pamela, I shall never hold my head up again, — never. It is a disgrace to the family." " At any rate, she was not acting long," answered Pamela, " and no one need know anything about it unless you tell them. Poor Julia was always very warm-hearted and affectionate, and surely you cannot believe that Harold would have married her unless she had been, as he says, quite good and innocent. You ought to believe in your own son," added the girl, with her eyes sparkling, " and not want me to remind you — I, who am not even his sister, why should I have to plead for him to his own mother ? " " You are a dear, blessed girl to speak up VOL. II. L 146 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. for my poor boy," cried Mrs. Turrell, flinging her arms round Pamela's neck, " and I love you for It. After all, perhaps, If we keep It quiet nobody may ever know more about it than that she was Cartwrlght's daughter at the bank, and they were highly respectable folks till he took to getting so rich all of a sudden." Pamela disengaged herself from her friend's embrace. " I am glad you seem a little com- forted ; and now, if you won't think me unkind, ril be orettinof home. Father likes me to be in for tea," she said dreamily. Just as she started on her homeward walk Mrs. Campeny drove up In Joe's gig. Pamela hastened on Into the fields, and escaped before any eyes more observant than Mrs. Turrell's had had a chance of remarking on her white face. " And so you told Pamela ? " said Mrs. Campeny, when she had heard the great news. Yes — well — I did," answered Mrs. Turrell, shuffling from one foot to another. " There A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 47 was no harm, was there, now they are married ? " " No ; I suppose she might as well know how as any time. And how did she take it ? " " Oh, she said her best to comfort me in her way, poor child. But what can she know about it ? If ever she has grown-up sons, and sees them going on all wrong, then will be her time. It is easy preaching patience for them that ain't hurt." " Poor Pamela ! " said Mrs. Campeny softly, '' she deserves never to be hurt." 148 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. CHAPTER X. " His palms are folded on his breast ; There is no other thing express'd ' But long disquiet merged in rest." Pamela's courage, which had dwindled to its lowest point during the time of suspense, rose rapidly when once she learnt the extent of her misfortune. Her angry contempt for herself helped to carry her through the first days, while as yet no one at Rose Hall knew what had happened, and she was at least spared any remarks on Harold's conduct. But when the first shock was over, a time of reaction came. She could not so suddenly bend all her thoughts in a new direction, or forget at her will the hopes she had renounced. In spite of all her fierce battles with herself, and all her pride and determination, soft thouMits of her old love A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. T49 would creep back into her heart sometimes. She woke in the morning with his vision before her eyes, she still heard his voice echoing through her dreams, and found his name rising unawares to her lips when she prayed. She shed bitter tears over her own weakness; he was utterly indifferent to her, it seemed, yet she could not free herself from the thought of him ; she called herself unmaidenly and foolish, but the hard names had only power to sting and none to help. A week of this conflict had wrought her up to a state of restlessness which seemed to be rapidly approaching the unendurable, when the news, which had certainly not travelled as quickly as bad news is generally supposed to do, reached Mrs. Burnet. It was some relief to Pamela to hear the matter openly commented upon ; though, as may be supposed, her grand- mother did not do so in the most charitable spirit. " Here is a pretty story Peggy has just picked up ! " she began, as her granddaughter .sat down to her sewing one afternoon. " Here 150 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. is Master Harold Turrell gone and got married all of a sudden up in London to nobody knows who, and never given his own mother so much as a hint of it beforehand ! " " Peggy has not picked up quite the right stor}', I am afraid," said Pamela. " What do you know about it, pray ? " asked the old woman, adjusting her spectacles to take a good look at her grandchild. " I know that he is married to Julia, poor I\Irs. Cartwright's daughter ; he met her in London, and seems to have arranged it all very hastily, but it is scarcely correct to say that Mrs. Turrell had not a hint of it beforehand. At least, she knew all there was to know, I fancy." " And why on earth have you been keeping your tongue between your teeth all this time, il you knew about it ? Are you bound over to keep the Turrells' secrets, pray ? I don't think it becoming in you, Pamela." " I had no wish] to keep secrets, but I did not know whether ]\Irs. Turrell would not rather tell people about it herself. I don't think she would have mentioned it to me, but A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 151 I found her alone when she had just got the news, and was in trouble about it, so it all came out on the spot. I am very glad you know, at any rate, grandmother, for I hate mysteries, I'm sure. " Trouble, indeed ! What could she expect from such a son as that ? She ought to be thankful that he is honourably married, and things are no worse ! I should like to know what they mean to live on. Cartwright wasn't worth a brass farthing when he died, folks say. And as for Harold, he has neither money nor the wit to win it. Of course, there wall be a parcel of brats come along to help 'em to starve. I've no patience with such folly." Pamela escaped as soon as she could, and slipped away to her own room, hers only now, and very lonely with both the sisters gone from it. It was a cloudless, sultry summer day, the corn was beginning to whiten under the fierce sun, and the air seemed to quiver with heat. Pamela felt as if she could not breathe in the house. She tied on her shady sun-bonnet and went downstairs ; to toil across the scorching 152 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. fields to the Abbey would be better than this, she thought. Everybody knew the story of Harold now, and she might as w^ell go out and face the world at once. She had never been so long before without going to see Anne, and she thought longingly of Nancy's soft little arms round her neck, and of the way the child had of leanino; her head aq-ainst her' aunt's cheek, and stroking her face. She was stopped before she had got outside the gate. Peggy came running down the garden path after her, with her rosy face quite pale with fright. " Oh, Tvliss Pamela ! " she cried, " do come back. Here is Mrs. Dampier's little girl come over from Mr. Ouicke to say he is took very ill, and he wants to see you at once." Pamela hastened back to the hall where the girl was standing, smiling and curtseying with a childish callousness which seemed very horrible. " Mother says it is a stroke," explained the little maid, in her self-satisfied tone, " and she told me to run all the way here, but lor', it is so hot ! He has quite come to hisself now, but A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 53 mother says nobody don't know how long it may last, so perhaps you'll just come along, miss r " Of course, I'll come this moment. Is my father out still, Peggy ? And David too ? — well, I must have Dobbin and the chaise, any way. Sit down, Betsy, I will take you back with me." In spite of Peggy's remonstrances she ran out into the sunny yard, drew the little chaise out of the coach-house, and soon had Dobbin harnessed and between the shafts. " You must run up and tell grannie where I am gone, Peggy," she said, as she got in and gathered up the reins ; " she has been calling once or twice. I suppose she heard the chaise dragging over the stones, but I won't go in, there is no time to waste." " The missus will be so angry, miss. Couldn't you have waited till master came in ? " But Pamela had already poked Betsy into her seat, and was rattling out of the gate. She spoke but little as they drove on, but Betsy was extremely talkative. She seemed to 154 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. take a delight in going over and over the history of Mr, Ouicke's seizure. " Such a crash on the floor as he came, miss, you'd a' thought the house was coming down ; and mother, she took her hands out of the suds, for she was a- washing at the time, and run upstairs. Poor gentleman, he'd got his head right up again the leg of the sofa, and a chair as he must have caught hold of as he fell, — that lay beside of him." Pamela's heart sickened : it was the first time she had been brought in contact with serious illness, and the suddenness of this made it very terrible. " Oh, don't tell me any more of that, Betsy," she cried, " I want to know what the doctor said ; does he think he will get well, and was he out of danger ? " " Doctor Bramwell, he don't seem to think he'll get through with it ; but Doctor Jenkins, he came up of his own accord like afterwards, and seemed to say that it weren't such a bad case, if only so be he got the right kind of physic. However, since Mr. Ouicke have A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 55 been sensible, he can't a-bear Doctor Jenkins in the room, and it is all Doctor Bramwell, and none but he." When Pamela first entered the invalid's darkened room, her eyes were so blinded by the glare without that she could see nothing-, and was only sensible that the room seemed a orood deal disarrano^ed : the furniture draeeed about into unaccustomed places, and the air faintly scented with vinegar and water. By degrees she became able to make out the figure of her old friend, wrapjDed in his dress- ing-gown, and laid on the sofa near which he had fallen. His face looked somewhat drawn and shrunk, but otherwise his appearance seemed little altered at first. As she knelt by his side he put out his left hand to her, and then she noticed the strange, limp droop of his right arm, which was nearer to her and understood with a shudder that it was useless. " Oh, Mr. Ouicke, I am so sorry to find you like this," she cried, taking his hand between hers. " What could have made this 156 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. come so suddenly — and why are they not doing something for you ? Surely Doctor Bramwell has not gone away and left you so ? " " There is nothing to be done, child," said the old man, in a thick, laboured voice, " except to cheer me up a bit. You can do that, better than old Sawbones." The attempt at his old jocularity was quite too much for Pamela ; she bent her head lower and lower, and the tears began to fall from her eyes on to the withered, insensitive arm and hand. Presently he said, " Bring me a picture you will find on the table." She rose with alacrity, glad to have an opportunity of wiping her eyes unobserved. On the table she found her friend's thick- rimmed spectacles, together with an open Bible and the little sketch which he had shown her years before as a copy of part of a picture by Lippo Lippi. " Put it up somewhere, so that I can see It," he said, when she brought it to him. There was no means of doing this, except A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. I57 by fastening it to the wall. After some de- liberation she put a pin through the card- board on which it was mounted, and attached this to the wall-paper at the foot of his sofa. He surveyed this arrangement with evident satisfaction, and took her hand in his kindly as she sat down again by his side. " You are a eood orirl to come and see me," he said, with a smile struggling on one side of his face. " I will stop here altogether if you will let me,'' offered Pamela eagerly, "and help Mrs. Dampier to nurse you till you are better." " No, no," said Mr. Ouicke ; " you have no business to be saddled with more sick folks than your own, but you shall come and see me sometimes, when I am well enough, mind — not otherwise." " I should like to be of some use to you," she said sadly. " I hoped you had meant that, when you sent for me, and I am not so much wanted at home as you think." " I wanted to tell you something, that was why I sent for you. Even if I get well — I may, I5S A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. you know — I shall not have another chance perhaps. Pamela, child ! I have left you my money ; it is not much, but it is enough to make you independent. Independence is salvation for a woman sometimes." " I am glad you told me," said Pamela after a pause, " I will not trouble you about such things now, but I hope you will change that when you get better. It is very good of you, dear Mr. Ouicke, but how could I bear to take money from you, who are no relation to us — and when you must have others who are of your own kin, and who must expect it. We will talk about it in a few da)-s, when you are better, and then I am sure you will do as I wish, won't you ? " " I have no relations who expect one farthincr from me," exclaimed Mr. Ouicke, raising himself a little ; " I have some cousins in Yorkshire whom I never even saw, and who are rich people and would turn up their noses at my paltry savings, and there is no one else. There are three women who have been kind and good to me ; you are the only one left, A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 59 now^my old mother is gone, and you will be in want of armour, — you don't know how much good a little golden armour may be to you." Pamela shook her head sorrowfully, but he went on. " If a man finds himself without money, things may go hardly for him, but he can generally get himself an honest living, but a woman — do you know how a woman keeps the wolf from the door ? she sells herself. How many women do you suppose marry to keep themselves from want ? " " I should never do that," said the girl proudly. " I don't know, child. Girls as good and honest as you have done it. The one who made that picture did it ; don't you be the first to blame her ; she could neither dig nor beg, what choice was there left her ? She married for a home ; such a home it was, too ! — and then — well, she broke her heart ; but it is all so many years ago." He turned his face away and closed his eyes. When he next spoke it was to ask Pamela to put more coverings on his feet, for l6o A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. he was cold in spite of his many wraps and the sultry weather. " Now say good-bye, dear," he said, holding- out his hand, and looking up to her with softened eyes. It was in vain she begged to be allowed to remain, or, at any rate, to return soon, he was obdurate, and insisted she should eo home and not come to him aQ^ain till he should send for her. At last Mrs. Dampier interceded for her. " Why not let the young lady bide a bit if she likes ? " she said. " No, Dampier ; send her home, like a good w^oman. Here, I'll whisper you a secret; would you like her to see what you saw this morning ? No ? Well, then, there may be another attack soon ; let her be safe away, poor child." She was almost blinded with her tears when she came and bent over him to say good-bye. The old man took her hand in his, and looked up to her as if in mute entreaty. She evidently understood his wish, for she stooped down and kissed the weather-beaten face with a passion of grief and tenderness which seemed to thrill A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. l6l for a moment the poor paralyzed form under her touch. He raised himself up and laid his hand on her head, and then suddenly fell back. Mrs. Dampier began to fear lest Pamela should witness the terrible scene he had so longed to spare her, and hurried her away. Pamela walked home . slowly and sadly. The shadow of death which was hovering over her friend suffused all her thoughts, though they were not exclusively of him. In this dimness her own trouble seemed to shrink away and hide its head. The great calm world, lying under the evening sunshine, seemed no longer saddened by her sorrow. She began to understand that the earth rolled on in its course whether she wept or laughed ; the inevitable came to her and to all — joy to one, sorrow to another, death to her friend, life perhaps to her — that the wildest prayers could not stay the curse nor bring down the blessing. What earthly wisdom indeed could say where lay the blessino^ and where the curse ? One thing- was certain, goodness reigned always in the end. It remained for her only to be patient and VOL. II. M 1 62 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. Strong, to listen not only to the mournful beatines of her own heart but to the echoes from the world around her. Her life was but one note in the great symphony after all ; why had she wasted so much pity on herself, she wondered, looking down upon her old thoughts and regfrets from a new heiMit ? She drank deep draughts from the waters of humiliation and abnegation, — bitter, indeed, but healing and strengthening to a mind that had been feeding almost morbidly on its own sadness. She reached home, feeling strangely weary and shaken, but the crisis was over, she had her old brave heart back again ; the freshness, the ignorance of evil, — these, alas! were gone for ever, but Pamela had passed beyond herself now. The selfish light-heartedness of youth, which is a fair enough thing in itself, had gone by, and she had entered into the patience and sympathy of a maturer life. She found her father alone in his study. He had heard of Mr. Quicke's illness, and was anxious for more news of him. Pamela, for her part, was eager to let him know about A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 63 the money, and to have some one to share with her the responsiblhty the knowledge of the bequest entailed. " I would be the last person to urge you to accept it, if you have any scruples about doing so finally," he said, when he had heard her story ; " but I must say, my child, this provision for you would make what remains of life much easier for me, and I don't think you have any reason for refusing it. I always understood Ouicke had no relations to whom he would be likely to leave his money, and there have been many speculations as to what he would do with it. I certainly never dreamt one of my children would ever inherit it." " I should like you to see him, father, as soon as he is a little better. I am quite ready to abide by what you think right." " I will certainly speak to him on the matter on the first opportunity ; but I fear it is only too likely that such may never come." " Oh, father, what do you mean ? " " I saw Bramwell an hour ago. He tliinks it may end very suddenly, and at any time. 164 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. He will hardly survive another seizure if it follows the first quickly. I am sorry to shock you, my girl, but it is better you should be prepared." Pamela watched all that evening, and throucrh the soft summer nio-ht and the bright day that followed it, for the message that was to summon her to the sick man's side, but none came. George Lynton had been with him most of the day, and Mr. Honey wood had also visited his old neighbour, for whom he had always had a lurking kindness, though they had had many disagreements, and had professed no friendliness for one another. So much she knew from the various messengers who had gone backwards and forwards for news during the day. Towards twilight she strolled out by herself, trying to calm her restlessness by wandering about ; she could not bear to go far from the house, lest the call she was hoping for should come while she was absent. The extreme point of her walk was a little green-painted bridee, that crossed a small stream at one side A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 65 of the home meadow. She was leaning over the raihng and watching the bright water run under her feet, when a boy, whom she recognized as one of the Stourton servants, came up and put a sHp of paper into her hand. He touched his hat, said, " There is no answer, miss," and was gone before she had had time to read, in the dim hght, a few hnes hastily written in George's hand. " It is all over. Our friend passed away peacefully and painlessly at sunset. It was for your own sake he did not send for you, he spoke of you to the last, and bade me tell you this. ,, ^ J „ Five days later the old man was laid in his lonely grave in Merehampstead church- yard, far from those he had loved best when life was young and full of hope for him. His mother slept her last sleep under the shadow of a little grey church on the bleak Yorkshire moors where her hardy, active life had been spent. And that other woman whom he had remembered so faith- 1 66 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. fully to the end, where, Pamela wondered, as she stood tearfully over his newly-made grave, had the last sad scene of her life been played out ? In what quiet nook had she found a rest from her sorrows and errors ? So lonely and divided in life, surely they were united now in that strange far land, whose silence our cries cannot pierce, whose mystery our thoughts cannot reach. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 67 CHAPTER XI. " With weary steps I loiter on, Though always under altered skies. The purple from the distance dies, My prospect and horizon gone." There was great surprise in Merehampstead when it was found that Pamela Burnet was Mr. Ouicke's heiress. No one, perhaps, was more astonished at her good fortune than were the different members of her own family. " Well," remarked Mrs. Burnet, when she had got the better of her first feeling of incre- dulity, " Heaven looks after them that don't look after themselves, certainly, and that is a mercy ! " " Heaven looks after the unselfish, grannie, there is no doubt about that," rejoined Anne sturdily. "If any one ever deserved good 1 68 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. luck it is Pamela, for she never goes one inch out of her way to get anything for her- self," The sum she had inherited proved to be larger than any one had anticipated. The lawyer who was winding up Mr. Ouicke's affairs told her father that, wiien all was settled, there would be from two to three hundred a year for her, besides the house and furniture. " A very nice little fortune for a young lady who possesses so many other attractions," he said, with a smart bow. " And I am truly glad that she does not insist upon that romantic but most unnecessary measure of resigning the money in favour of those cousins in the north. It is not in human nature (not ordinary human nature, I mean, Miss Burnet is an exception) to refuse money, I dare say if she had offered her fortune to them, they would have been mean enough to take it. But rest assured, they can neither expect it, nor have they the smallest right to it, and such a sum would be a trifle — a- mere bagatelle — to those purse-proud trading folks." A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 69 Pamela would hardly acknowledge It to her- self, but she could not help being sensible that a change, slight, certainly, but unmistakable, had crept over the manners of her friends and relations since she became an heiress. Her grandmother, though if anything more acid than usual to others, said fewer sharp things to her than of old ; her father, too, put a faint tinee of distinction Into his manner towards her which became exquisitely painful to her. ]\Irs. Turrell looked at her with a kind of lan- guid admiration, and Joe became quite shy and awkward when she went to the Abbey. With Mrs. Campeny the difference was more refined, yet she could not deny that it existed. Anne, at least, was quite untouched by change, and was as sisterly and motherly (for her ways had a tinge of both) as of old ; and George was quite unaltered, as Pamela felt sure he would have been, even If his position had not made such small riches as hers a matter of indifference to him. It was only a few days after Mr. Oulcke 's funeral, and before the feelings of surprise and 170 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. congratulation inspired by Pamela's fortune had lost their first edge, that another piece of un- expected news reached Rose Hall. Aunt Carry wrote to her brother on behalf of John Burnet and Emilia. Johnnie had been paying another visit to the Longs ; he had not given up his matrimonial intentions, and this time the Fates seemed to smile on his wooing. Emilia was evidently very fond of her cousin, her aunt stated, and if her father could reconcile himself to what, after all, he could scarcely object to, the marriage of cousins, the two young people might be made happy with a word. There was a badly- written little note from Emilia enclosed, w^hich expressed a hope that " dear father and grandmother would give their consent," and a more coherent epistle from Johnnie, setting his advantages and prospects in the most dazzling light, and evidently counting upon acceptance . as a matter of course. Mrs. Burnet received these letters with great amiability and satisfaction ; her son with much doubt and struggle of mind, though on the wdiole he seemed inclined to take advantage of A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. Ijl the provision made for his daughter, if only he could at all reconcile it with his conscience. As for Anne, she burst out laughing when she learnt the news, in a manner quite inconsis- tent with her usual matronly dignity. " Well, if Milly doesn't have him, there will be an end of it," she said, flinging the letter on the table ; " there are not any more of us." To Pamela this discussion, coming close upon her friend's death, made a ghastly 'mixture of the sad and the grotesque too shocking to be spoken about. Nevertheless, for Emilia's sake she ventured upon strong remonstrance. ** I know what Johnnie is," she said to her father, clasping her hands In her eager- ness ; *' he is mean and cruel and grasping. He will make her most miserable, so petted and made much of as she has been, poor little Milly ! " " You always had a prejudice against your cousin," he answered, turning uneasily in his chair ; " I never thought so badly of him, though I can't say I am fond of the young 172 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. man. I should like to see the child provided for. She is the most helpless of you all, poor little soul ! " " Oh, father, there is no need to trouble about that now I have this money. We could all live very nicely on that, and you may save another fortune for Emilia yet — who knows ? " " No, child ; I have given up that delusion. The QTOose that was to have laid the Qrolden eggs and never did is stored up there," he said, jDointing drearily to a cupboard in the corner of his study. "You will make a bonfire of it all when I am gone. As for your money, my dear, you will marry some day, and your husband may be less magnanimous than you are. I'd rather your sister had a home of her own." " I will divide with her this moment if you fear that," cried Pamela ; " and then it will be her own to do as she likes with ; perhaps that will be better, only don't let her go and make this marriage before she knows more of him, and more of herself." " I would not have suggested it, nor will I urge it now ; but how can I refuse my consent A STORV OF THREE SISTERS. 1/3 — what reasons can I give ? They both wish it, and he is respectable and well-to-do." " Oh, it is one of those things that could stand without a reason, I think." " Now you are talking nonsense ; but run along, I must talk to your grandmother about it. " Perhaps, after all," thought Pamela, " if they do love one another, it may be all right. If they do ? But I can't endure the thought of it." Anne's view of the matter comforted her a little. " I think John can't be unkind to her," she said ; " and Emilia does not notice man)' of these things about him that we should not like. It does not take much to make her happy, and he is rich and will be able to give her plenty of the pretty dresses and things she likes so much. I wouldn't say anything against it, if I were you, dear." It would not have been much use if she had. Mrs. Burnet had determined that the marriage was to take place, and even Pamela with all her money was as a feather in the 174 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. balance compared with that well-established authority ; so the family consent was duly written and despatched to Johnnie Burnet, who thought it more coolly expressed than was at all fittinor. The news of Pamela's wealth travelled by the same post. Naturally Johnnie was vexed to find that after so much deliberation he had pitched upon the wrong sister, but a little reflection convinced him that Pamela, who had been a fractious subject in the days of her poverty, would be perfectly unmanageable now, and that it would be rather awkward to transfer his allegiance at that point of the proceedings. He was very sulky for a few days, and reminded Emilia once or twice how much he was giving up in taking to himself a penniless bride. She took it with perfect good temper. "As you are going to get all father's property for nothing I don't see any thing to make such a fuss about," she remarked one day — an answer which so completely took him aback that he made no reply, and did not show any more temper on * that occasion. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. I 75 After all, perhaps, Anne was right in think- ing they were not altogether badly matched. Richard Burnet seemed greatly relieved when the matter of this en^acrement was really settled ; yet, after a short time, the want of his old stimulus of anxiety had a strange and depressing effect upon him. Day by day he grew more listless and apathetic. His manuscripts were all hidden away, and he never took a pen in his hand. Much of his time was still passed alone in his study, but when Pamela surprised him there, she* generally found him sitting by the open window, with one of the little leather-covered volumes from her mother's bookshelf in his hands. " Why, father, you are getting terribly Idle," she said one day, her anxious face little accordinor with her li^ht words. " What is happening to your work all this time ? " " My work is done, thank heaven," he said, gazing dreamily out into the sunny distance ; " my work is done." She tried every method to rouse him in vain. George Lynton was her able ally, but 176 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. was no more successful. At times he would brino- over some curious old book of eneravines from the Stourton Hbrar}^, to consult him about the symbols of a mediaeval woodcut ; some- times he would have a knotty question of architectural history to solve : Mr. Burnet would appear interested for the time, and would answer the young man's questions, patiently and intelligently, but the next mo- ment he would fall back into his strangle abstracted silence, and though he was always perfectly courteous to his guest, George could hardly flatter himself that his visits were very welcome. Still he continued to go frequently to Rose Hall, for he could not bear to leave Pamela alone in her sadness, and he could do much to cheer her, even if her father were beyond help. Indeed, he seemed to be so, for his bodily health failed fast, and Dr. Bramwell told him he was dying because he had no wish to live. Richard only smiled and said he was ready to go when his time came. The summer had passed into autumn, and A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 77 the autumn into winter, and Emilia still re- mained in London. Johnnie seemed to have no desire to appear at Merehampstead in the character of an engaged lover, and in accord- ance with his wish, it was decided that the wedding should take place from Mrs. Long's house soon after Christmas. Pamela made an excuse of her father's poor health and declined to go. She could have been ill spared from home at that time, and she had no desire either to be present at the wedding, or to enter her aunt's house asfain as a euest. Anne was a little offended at the whole arrangement, and said rather sharply, if M illy- liked to come and be married decently from her own home, she would not be the last to go and wish her joy, but that she wasn't going gadding to London after her. So it happened that the wedding-day came and passed by, and they could hardly realize that any change had taken place in their sister's condition. , She wrote them one of her usual little mis-spelt letters soon after the event from Manchester, signing herself, " Your VOL. II. N 178 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. affectionate sister, Emilia Burnet," and en- closing a scrap of her wedding gown, and the wedding gown seemed to them the only part of the business that had any reality about it. "It doesn't seem like being married at all, does it," said Anne, " not even to change one's name : " She'll find plenty of change," said Joe ominously, " though it won't be in her name. She has never had to do with the like of that sneak before. He'll break her heart before the year is out, you'll see." " Nonsense, Joe. You talk of the poor young man as if he were a perfect demon. Please to remember he is your brother-in-law." Anne's eye twinkled with a spark of malice as she spoke : she could not resist the tempta- tion to tease her husband sometimes on the subject of his former rival. She had grown merrier since her marriage, and had developed a taste for quiet fun of which she had had little as a girl. " He's no more my brother-in-law than he >s my grandfather, confound him ! I'll have A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 79 ■nought to do with him. Your sister-in-law's husband Isn't your brother-in-law that ever I heard of, — eh, Pamela ? " "Of course he is," said Pamela — "your brother-in-law once removed ; — but never mind, Joe ; he'll be pretty well removed from all of us, I fancy," The bridegroom, however, wrote in the €arly spring to request permission to bring his wife down to her old home. Pamela wrote in answer, and begged them to come as quickly as possible if Emilia wished to see her father alive. He had taken a change for the worse, and even if they started at once they might be too late. Then there followed a hurried, miserable journey in the sleet and rain of chilly April days. They reached home In a forlorn, grey twilight, and were greeted on the doorsteps by Pamela. " You are too late," she said, as she put her arms round her sister's neck and drew her In from the rain. Poor little bride ! She was quite broken down with sorrow and fatigue and the clreari- l8o A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. ness of her home-coming, and lay almost in- sensible in Pamela's arms. When they brought her to a blazing fire and chafed her cold hands and feet she soon began to revive. John hovered about her with cups of tea, and cushions, and was very polite and attentive ; but she took little notice of him, and seemed to care for nothing so much as to sit still in the pleasant warmth and hold Pamela's hand in her own. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. l8l CHAPTER XII. " Oh, Angel of the East, one, one gold look Across the waters to this twilight nook — The far, sad waters, Angel, to this nook ! " Up to almost the last moment Mrs. Burnet refused to believe in her son's danger, and even when he was actually dying she struggled with her own convictions and told the doctor constantly, "He will weather it out, doctor — he will weather it out ; Richie always had such a line constitution." She would not allow her armchair to be moved from his bedside, but sat there day and night peering with her dim old eyes into his face, wandering a little in her mind sometimes from the weakness and weariness induced by her long watching, and going back in her fancy to his childish days, as she had done to his childish pet name. 1 82 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. When all was over her grief was much like that of a child — violent, but shortlived. It is difficult to appreciate the feelings of a very old person in such a case ; she could hardly grieve much that he was gone where she must soon follow him ; perhaps she felt he was really nearer to her in the other world than in this. It annoyed her extremely, how- ever, to see her nephew walking about the house that had been her husband's and her son's, with the conscious airs of a master, and as she could not wreak her vengeance on him,, poor Emilia had often to flinch under the lash,, for her husband's faults. It was quite a new experience to her, and she did not bear it very well. Altogether they were not a happy party, and it was a great relief to Pamela when John and his wife started for Manchester ; for he wished to make the most favourable terms for disposing of his share in his father's business before he settled at Rose Hall. At the same time Pamela began her preparations for moving into Merehampstead. Still, leaving the old home seemed very A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 83 hard. She wandered in and out of the rooms, opened cupboard doors and shut them again, for the mere sake of old friendship. There was not a flower in the orarden she did not linger over with tender regret, nor one nook of the quaint house she did not visit with tearful eyes and loving memories. One of her most trying duties was going over her father's papers and manuscripts. George helped her in this task, or it would have been almost unmanageable. Nothing was in a fit state for publication, even if they had thought that advisable ; but neither could Pamela bear, as her father had suofQfested, to make a bonfire of the whole. Finally, they consigned these melancholy relics of a wasted life to a huge trunk, and sent it off to the new house, where it found a quiet corner in the lumber-room. If the ghost of the lawyer ever haunted his old abode, how it must have grinned over these futile literary labours ! It was a bright morning early in June when all was ready for the move, which had been once or twice delayed to suit the new 184 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. masters arrangements. George and Pamela had ended their labours and stood together for the last time In poor Richard's study. " I am so glad the papers are done," Pamela was saying — " that was the worst part; but you have helped me so much, you have made it the lightest. How can I ever thank you enough for all you have done, Mr. George ? Who else would have been such a kind and patient friend to me : George stood at the open window picking the leaves from a pot of musk and crushing them in his fingers. " I have been your friend for many years Pamela; I deserve, and will ask no other reward than you may choose to give me ; what shall it be ? " She looked down and was silent. " I can give you nothing that is worth your taking," she said, '* only a great deal of o-ratitude." Pie came over to where she stood, but paused before he was near enough to touch her hand, and watched her keenly : " Are you A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 85 sure that that is so ? " he asked at last. '* Could you not trust in me enough to let me take care of you, and to give me a little love ? If you were my wife, Pamela, surely you would learn to like me a little ; and to be with you, to try to make you happy, and to comfort you after all these troubles would be a heaven of content to me. It would not be as happy as if you had loved me altogether and from the first, as I have loved you ; but it would be the best thing I can hope for now, I speak of myself because I know you will never listen to any schemes for your own good. But I think, dear, I could make your life brighter too for you if you would let me." " You have made my life brighter for me as it is," answered Pamela trembling ; " is that any 'reason why I should darken yours for you : " Have I ? " said George, heeding only the first words. He came forward now and took her hand. " Think of it," he implored, " and do not refuse me now. I ask so little of you, and you may give me so much happiness. I 1 86 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. will come back in a few days and ask you how it is to be, and I shall see by your face how you have decided." " Oh, no, no!" cried Pamela. " Such things must not be talked of between us. Our paths are wide apart ; you must go your way and I must go mine. Let us be friends ; surely we may be that when once we have owned there is a great gulf fixed between us, and are pledged not to try to pass it. Your wife must be rich and great like yourself, Mr. George ; and she must love you as you deserve to be loved, as you will be loved one day — you who are so young, and generous, and kind/' " Pamela, you have no right to talk like this. Do you think the love I have given to you can be handed over to some one else like a mere chattel ? I have known you for six years now, and have never had a thought that was untrue to you ; if you cannot even give me the little of your heart I ask you for, I must bear my trouble as best I can. God forbid that I should ask you to lay an untruth on your fair white soul for my sake, but do not put me off A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 8/ with foolish no-reasons. I am going away now, dear," he added in gender tones, as he bent and touched her hair with a timid hand ; " when I come back you shall tell me how it is to be. Only judge on righteous grounds, Pamela, and God bless you ! " She sat down by herself when he was gone, and remained for a long time with her head resting on her hands, and the tears dropping on her black dress. So far as she knew she was weeping because she could not give him what he wanted. Harold had left her, or never loved her, and she had told herself she would forget him ; but there was no possibility of patching up the old broken love which had been all his and now was gone for ever. She knew there was nothing left for another, yet she wept because she would, and she could not. She would fain have loved this faithful friend who was so kind and gentle to her ; she would gladly have turned her back upon her dull old life, and gone away into the bright world he offered her ; but something held her back — something so stern and pitiless that she could 1 88 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. not even struggle against it ; she could only shed tears of sorrow and pity for him and for herself. It was well for her that she had not much time just then to dwell on her troubles and diffi- culties. There was her grandmother to take care of and cheer up, and a great deal of pack- ing to do, and handling of old familiar articles, the very sight of which called up memories which drove all other thoughts out of her head. Two days had passed since she had seen George. She felt thankful to him for keeping away and sparing her any further conflict just then. The last day at Rose Hall had come, and she felt sure she should not be called upon to see him again until she had escaped from the influence of her old home. Once gone away into a new and harder world, she thought she would be colder and stronger — better able to tell him he must separate himself from her until he could learn to look at her in a different light — better able to give up her one only friend, and herself pronounce sentence of banishment on him. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 89 She was busy stowing away some books in a box when she heard a sound of carriage wheels crunching up the gravel path, and, soon after, Peggy came running upstairs with a card held carefully in her apron and an awe-struck ex- pression of face. *' Oh, Miss Pamela, it is Mrs. Lynton," she explained ; " she is a-sitting in the best parlour, and she wants to see yew." *' Are you sure it is not grandmother she asked for ? " said Pamela, rising from her knees and brushing the dust off her dress. " It was ' Miss Burnet ' the footman asked for, as plain as he could speak. And my lady herself, she said, ' Du ye ask her to give me a few minutes if she bean't very busy,' quite kind and condescending like. And oh, Miss Pamela, don't yew think yew'd better change your gown ? That one is all so mucked with the packing." *' Great ladies should choose their visitingf times better, Peggy. If they like to come in the midst of moving they must put up with shabby dresses. But I'll wash my hands, at any rate." IQO A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. As Pamela stood before the looking-glass smoothinor her hair and arraneine her muslin collar she felt she should like to put on another dress. She would rather have appeared looking her best before this haughty lady, who, she felt almost sure, had come on some errand which she would have to resent ; but she would not give in to such weakness, and hurried down- stairs in her shabby black gown with a beating heart, and a flush on her cheeks which made her look very handsome in spite of her dingy drapery. Mrs. Lynton greeted her very kindly, rising from the sofa, and holding the girl's hand in her own while she alluded to poor Richard's death and expressed her sympathy with great earnestness. " I am afraid I have come at a very busy time," she said at last ; " for they tell me you are moving into the town almost immediately. What a sad parting it must be for you from your old home ! " " Yes," said Pamela with a sigh ; " and yet I shall be almost glad to be away now, and begin as it were afresh." A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. I9I " I should have chosen a more convenient opportunity for my visit," remarked the lady, playing nervously with the handle of her para- sol, " but I did not know you were leaving so soon, and I wished so much to see you before you left here." " Do not trouble yourself at all about that," begged Pamela with a graciousness quite equal to her own. " Our packing is nearly finished, and we have as much time as we like before us. I will let my grandmother know you are here if you will allow me, Mrs. Lynton ; I am sure she will like to thank you for your kind inquiries about her." " Pray do not disturb her," interrupted Mrs. Lynton eagerly, laying her hand on Pamela's arm to prevent her rising ; " I dare say she does not care to see strangers yet, and it is to you, my dear, I am anxious to say a few words." Pamela bowed, her suspicions returned with a rush, and she felt how foolish she had been to be deceived by a few soft words. She sat down again, and listened for what was to come in silence. 192 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. " Do you know, I am quite anxious to apolo- gise for my son?" said the lady with a gentle smile. " I know how much de ti^op a young man is likely to be when there is sickness and trouble in the house, and I am really ashamed to think how much George must have hindered you lately with his visits. You must not allow it, my dear Miss Burnet. Why should he come here and waste your time as well as his own ? I beg of you to have no scruples of politeness, but just tell him to run away home when you have had enough of him, as you would any other tiresome boy." " Mr. Lynton has been helping me through a painful and tedious task — looking through a mass of my poor father's papers. I am very sorry if his charitable labours have taken up more time than he could really spare from other thines," answered Pamela. " He has certainly neglected his home duties terribly lately ; but if he has been any assistance to you, I am sure I do not regret it. I trust to your discretion, and to the power a woman older than himself always has over a A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 93 youth of George's age, to send him back to attend to his own affairs now his Httle services are ended. I am so glad to hear that he has not been tiresome to you." *' I should scarcely like to presume on my seniority by dictating to Mr. George," said Pamela meekly, but with a little curl of the lip, " particularly av hen my small powers of persuasion are so unnecessary. No doubt your wishes will be amply sufficient for your son." " Young men are not quite so submissive to their mothers as you might imagine, my dear, as you will find out when you have sons of your own," answered Mrs. Lynton rising. " I dare say not," said Pamela ; " but, at Mr. George's age ? Do they begin to have wills of their own so early ? " Mrs. Lynton had come with the intention of scolding Pamela gently ; she wished to show her that it was not at all the thine for a eirl in her position to have a young aristocrat like George dangling after her. Her heart had failed her at the last moment, and she had not said all she had intended to, and now, as VOL. n. o 194 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. a reward for her forbearance, here was the girl laughing at her almost openly ! It was not in human nature to nourish no feelings of anger under such circumstances. She held out her hand rather stiffly. " I have no wish to discuss my son's faults, Miss Burnet. I still hope that you will dis- courage, as far as lies in your power, any idle habits he may have formed. At any rate, I am sure I can trust to time to set rig^ht his little mistakes. Good-bye ; pray do not let me bring you to the door. My kind remem- brances to your grandmother, please ; " and with uplifted dress she picked her way rapidly through the packing-cases and rolls of carpet that encumbered the dismantled hall, and climbed the steps of the great Stourton chariot. The tall footman slammed the door upon his mistress, and with another conde- scending bow she was rolled away home, having done a eood deal more mischief than she knew of. Mrs. Lynton had done her spiriting more gently than Mrs. Long, but it all amounted A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. J 95 to the same thing, as Pamela very well knew. She sat down when her visitor was gone and burst out laughing, but there was not much mirth in her laughter. "What a deal of trouble I eive them all ! " she said to herself : " first it seems I am going to marry some one who is not good enough, and Aunt Carry is up in arms ; then I am inveigling poor Mr. George, who is far too good for me — and that is worse than all. Why are they so suspicious and interfering, I wonder ? " she asked herself, passing from her hard laughter to a flood of tears. " Poor George ! he is the only one, I think, who is unworldly and kind ; but they will take him away too, and then I shall not have a single friend left in the whole world." Presently she dried her tears and went back to her packing. Her eyes were dim, and her head swimming with pain. All her old resolution and patience seemed to have broken down at last; one question would come back and back again to her weary brain — why should she not save to herself so much of the good things of life as remained possible 196 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. for her ? She could silence envious, carping" tongues if she liked ; she could get the better of Mrs. Lynton ; she could protect herself against the small impertinences of Johnnie Burnet. She could plunge into a new life, bright and rich and honourable, and forget the old heartaches, the shattered hopes that haunted her still. She could make George, if not happy, at least happier ; she would be a good wife to him, she told herself, and would devote all her life and energies to making herself a fit helpmeet to him in the works he had most at heart. As for her grandmother, she should have all Mr. Quicke's money, and Pamela knew she would be happier with either Anne or Emilia than with herself And yet at the end of it all she made to herself but one answer — " It can never be. It can never be!" Was it George Lynton's good or bad angel that led him down that evenino- to the ereen bridge just at the time when Pamela had come out to breathe a little fresh air after her labours ? He found her in her moment A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 97 of greatest weakness. He was strong with love and hope — she was so weary, and sad, and heart-sore. If there can be any excuse for such faihire, it was hers then ; but as she walked home afterwards, with down-bent head and a burning sense of wrong in her heart, she told herself there was no excuse, no word to be said in favour of her false, wicked promise. Once she paused in the twilight and then ran rapidly back to the bridge, hoping to find him still there, that she might take back her word. He was gone, and there lay before her only the calm, grey stream, with its broken reflection of the little crescent moon, and the dusky green fields closing down to the water. " I must wait till to-morrow," she thought ; '* but it will be harder then. And will my head ache and ache so all the time ? " She did not see George for some days after this ; other things had happened in the mean- time, and the old angry despair had come back upon her. When they did meet, her first wrong-doing had had its effects upon 198 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. her; she was grown harder and colder. It seemed to matter httle to her how she acted ; indeed, she felt as If her fate had passed out of her own hands, and some horrible catas- trophe must come at last to solve her diffi- culties and rouse her from this nightmare of dread and trouble. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 1 99 CHAPTER XIII. " I lived on and on As if my heart were kept beneath a glass, And everybody stood, all eyes and ears, To see and hear it tick." No people were more astonished when they heard of George Lynton's engagement than the good folks who had gossiped so freely about him and Pamela. They had enjoyed prophesy- ing the event, but they were both surprised and angry to find it had really taken place. Even those who had known and liked Pamela were offended and scandalized by her presumption in aspiring to become one of the greatest family in the neisrhbourhood. Her own relations were indignant. Anne almost went down on- her knees to beg her sister to do what she was only loneiner to do of her own accord if she had been 200 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. let alone and not bullied into obstinacy. Joe took himself off now into the kitchen when she went to the Abbey ; even old Jones looked the other way when she passed Instead of touching his hat. Only Aunt Carry and Johnnie Burnet wrote their unwelcome congratulations. The former was particularly triumphant : "I hope you will appreciate now, dear Pamela, the efforts that were made for your happiness at a time w^hen you seemed disposed to throw yourself away upon a person whom I will not name, and whom it would indeed be a shame to mention In the same breath with our dear Mr. George. How truly thankful we should be when we remember what troubles you have been spared by a merciful Providence, and what a happy prospect lies before you ! " with much more in the same style. Mrs. Lynton condescended to no remon- strance or communication of any kind with either Pamela or her relations. Fearful reports were spread about as to the violence of the old lord's wrath when he heard of the alliance George contemplated, and Mrs. Bramwell A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 20I whispered to a few of her intimate friends that her husband dreaded an attack of apoplexy; but they made no outward sign of disapproval of any kind. Mrs. Lynton's one desire now was to prevent any hasty marriage : as she had told Pamela, she had great faith in time, and hoped that if delayed, the evil might be altogether avoided. For the delay itself she had only Pamela to thank. She shrunk from any plans for fixing the date of her marriage with a dis- taste that bewildered and saddened George, who was anxious to deliver her from the coil of difficulties with which she was surrounded at once. Indeed, George's state of mind was not so happy as that of an accepted lover should be. Pamela was strange and fitful in her ways: sometimes merry with a hard recklessness so unlike her old playfulness that he could hardly bear to see her, but oftener sad and depressed beyond anything he could account for. Of her trials he knew nothing. He never met her now except in her own house, and all the little sliMits she underwent at the hands of those who had once loved and believed in her were unseen 202 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. by him. Still the shadow which had fallen over her enfolded him too, and Mrs. Lynton said little more than the truth when she complained to Miss Isabella De Wint that the s^irl had blighted his life, and that, whether she married him or not, he would never be fit for anything- aorain. " She must be an extraordinary creature, my dear," said Miss Isabella. " First of all, a dry old piece of parchment like Mr. Ouicke leaves her a fortune, and a ver}- tidy fortune for a person of her condition ; and then, poor George — what is it about her ? " " Heaven knows ! " said Mrs. Lynton. " Not her beauty." " I don't know. Some men have a great fancy for those queer complexions. What are her manners like ? " " Oh, don't ask me about the girl ! You'll all know enough of her manners by the time she is mistress of Stourton. I should call her pert myself; but, dear me! I am told that is the fashion." " Well, I am sure I should have thought A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 203 George was the very last person to be taken with a woman of that kind ; but don't despair, Augusta, the wind can't always blow from one quarter, as long as she does not hurry him into marriage there is hope." " She knows her poor fish is too securely hooked to care for that," said Mrs. Lynton bitterly; ''and she holds off herself, or pre- tends to." So Pamela, having once set herself to run down the wrong path, found no lack of hands to push her on and to clear out of her way any little kindly obstruction that offered to stay her course. When help did come, it was from a quarter from which she had long ceased to expect any good. It was a rainy, damp summer, and Pamela, who was accustomed to country life, felt the confinement to a dull, street house very severely. Sometimes she went over to the Little Farm for a change ; Mrs. Turrell and Mrs. Cam- peny were kind to her still— the one, perhaps, from her natural softness of character, and the other from a deeper discrimination than most 204 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. jDeople are blessed with. These were her only visits at that time. She had been told that Harold and his wife were expected, and had heard the news with a mixture of dread and longing, which she had covered up in her own heart and had tried to be insensible of. No certain time had been fixed for their arrival, and when they did come their appearance was a surprise to other people besides Pamela. One rainy afternoon early in July, she took advantage of a pause between the showers to walk over to Mrs. Turrell's. She stood still and took a long look at Rose Hall as she passed. The house was dreary and unin- habited, and the great iron gates were for once closed on their rusty hinges. The poplars rustled in the fitful wind, and scattered raindrops upon her as she leant her face for a moment ao-ainst the bars and looked at the house with its shuttered windows. She could just remember the first time she had seen them so, when she was quite a little girl and her mother lay in her coffin in the big bed- room over the hall. She recalled the dreari- 'A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 205 ness of the darkened house, and the miserable feelingf of bewilderment that came over her when they told her her mother was dead. How different everything might have been if her mother had lived, she thought, as she turned sadly away ; and then her mind came back to her ever-present troubles, and she longed wearily for some one to help her, as her mother might have helped her if she had been alive, to break through the difficulties she had surrounded herself with. She had been engaged only three weeks, yet her whole character seemed to have undergone a change in that short time. Branded even by her friends as a girl who was making a mercenary and dishonourable marriage, and sorely accused by her own conscience, all her old proud self- reliance had left her. Her courage and patience had gone too ; a turn of the head or a cool word was enough to raise storms of suppressed passion in her. She who had been so strong and secure in her own rectitude had become nervously sensitive to the faintest sign of ap- probation or reproof; though the one seemed 206 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. to give her but shortlived comfort, and the other to excite wrath rather than repentance. She was but a mere wreck of her old self as, with down-bent head, she went swiftly along the wet roads to crave a little kindness, a little comfort even, from poor, foolish Mrs. Turrell. She pushed open the garden gate at the Little Farm, and was standing on the threshold when she heard a loud, familiar voice inside, slnQrlnor the refrain of an old ballad. Her heart beat loud and fast, and then seemed to pause altogether ; she would have turned back had she dared, but some one might have seen her, and she w^as ashamed to acknowledge her weakness even to herself. With desperate courage she turned the handle of the parlour door and went in. Harold was lounging in an armchair with a book propped up among the cushions ; Julia sat on the other side of the room with a piece of work in her hand ; Mrs. Turrell, In her usual corner, was busy darning her son's socks. Pamela had had the advantage of a little preparation ; she behaved on the whole more A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 207 coolly than Harold. He rose up as If he had seen a orhost, and held out his hand to her in a half-imploring manner. She touched it with the tips of her cold fingers, and sat down in a dusky corner by Mrs. Turrell. They all remained so for some time, talking calmly enough of indifferent matters. After a while Pamela felt she ought to go, yet a kind of fascination compelled her to remain and watch Julia and study her relations with her husband. He seemed to treat her on the whole more like a servant than anything else. Once he asked vaguely for a penknife which ought to have been in his pocket, and though he had not addressed himself immediately to her, she got up and went away quickly to fetch it. When she returned he held out his hand for the article without even looking at her or pausing in the remark he was making. Julia seemed to take it as a matter of course, and merely slipped back to her seat and her sewing. She had grown a tall, handsome young woman, with great dark eyes, a brilliant complexion, and abundance of coarse, black 2o8 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. hair. Yet in spite of the bold style of her beauty, there was a timid, almost beseeching expression upon her face. Now and then she glanced at her husband as if to see whether he wanted anything ; except for that she never raised her eyes from her monotonous task. As Pamela looked at her the tears came Into her eyes, and a great feeling of pity for the girl rose in her heart. It was the first sign of returning grace, the first breaking up of the hard winter that reigned there, for such feelings had been stranQ^ers to her for what seemed a a lonof time now. Harold became more at his ease after the first few minutes, or at any rate pretended to be so. He told stories of his friends abroad, mimicked the learned German ladies who had patronised him and smiled on him through their spectacles, and recounted tales of rollicking students' practical jokes, with much laughter at his own wit. Mrs. Turrell understood that this kind of thing was not quite proper, and would not have been, if only Mrs. Campeny had been present. She did not understand Harolds A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 209 old relations to Pamela, but she felt there had been something between them which demanded gravity of demeanour, if not absolute penitence, on the young man's part. Thinking to make a diversion of this flood of nonsense, she asked him to sing to them. " I'm sure we have heard, enough of these stories, and they do you but little credit, Harold. Come now, sing us a song; not one of your noisy ones, but some- thing quiet and nice. I don't know why I asked Anne to let you have the harpsichord over here if you're never to lay finger on it." Pamela had hoped he would refuse ; but no, he rose and opened the instrument. There was no escape for her, she had to listen to what came. It was very different from old days, however ; the voice seemed coarser, the hand heavier, and the song itself, with its rattling noisy accompaniment, was very unlike the tender little melodies he had written lonof aeo for George's lines. These were the words — " When I am old, and you are grown Less fair than now, my rose of June, You ask me shall I sing to you? Or if I sing, to what sad tune ? VOL. II. ' p 2IO A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. " How can you ask, or I reply, To such a question while you sit And mock me from that flowery bank. Where happy summer insects flit ? " And while you seem to me so like The sunny cloud-flecked summer sky, Where still the steadfast blue remains Whatever clouds are passing by? " Within your eyes a spirit sits Serenely fair, divinely strong, That must remain whatever fades, The' time press hard, and life be long. " That is yourself, and must be still, Though age may line that brow so clear : Just as the sun shines up above Whatever showers are falling here. "And as we talk in summer time Of winter with its frost and cold, Fancy, perhaps, may feign a spring, To cheer our hearts when we are old. " At least, I love you passing well Now daisies press about your feet, And why not make a pleasant sketch Of what shall be in future, sweet ? "And if, maybe, in coming years I do not find you still so fair, 'Tis like you'll think me not so wise, And then, you know, you will not care." Harold had his back to the company as he sang ; when he rose from the instrument he looked round the room in some surprise. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 2 1 I "She Is gone," said Mrs. Turrell; "she said she had over-stayed her time already." " Oh ! " answered Harold blankly, and he put his hands In his ^Dockets and sauntered out Into the rain-drenched ofarden. 212 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. CHAPTER XIV. " Fair death of things that living once were fair ; Bright sign of lovehness too great for me, Strange image of the dread eternity, In whose void patience how can these have part. These outstretched feverish hands, this restless heart ? " As Pamela hastened along the road home- wards, the sullen drapery of cloud to west- ward opened for a moment and cast a lurid yellow light after her as she fled. The wet trees and hedgerows quivered and sparked in the baleful ofleam against the dark backo^round of the sky. It seemed to her like a sardonic laugh of nature at her misery ; she drew her cloak round her shoulders and hurried on. But soon the rent in the great cloud canopy closed, the light went out into grey twilight, and raindrops began to fall thick and fast. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 213 Her steps seemed to falter under her, but she made her way as quickly as she could against the beatinof rain, and had almost reached her own door when a voice, and a hand on her arm, arrested her : " Are you running away from me, dear ? " It said. " Oh, George ! " cried Pamela, catching at his hand, and speaking in a strange, excited way, " I wish I had run away from you long ago, before I had brought all this sad, sad trouble upon you. Oh, only forgive me, and let me go now — let me go away and not make you unhappy any more ! " She was almost falling as she spoke, but he cauofht her arm and drew it within his. " I don't understand you," he said gravely ; " but you shall tell me all this afterwards. You must let me take you home now out of this pouring rain. You are ill and agitated. Come, lean on me, dear ; we are just home, and then you must lie down and rest." They spoke no more till he left her upon her own doorstep. Then he said, " I will come and see how you are to-morrow," and she 214 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. answered with dry, white hps, " I will write to }0u before that ; good-bye — good-bye, George." He pressed her hand, and went away silently, but with a sad and terror-stricken heart. Pamela made her way at once to her own room. She hastily threw off her wet cloak, and went to her writing-table, but the hand that held the pen refused to obey her will, her head swam, the wildest thoughts chased one another in and out of her brain, and writing seemed even more impossible than speech had been when she was leaning on George's arm. Pre- sently Peggy came knocking at the door to call her to tea, and she had to go down and attend to her grandmother's wants^ Mrs. Burnet was getting too old to be observant ; she did not notice her Qrranddauo^hter's shakino- hands and heavy eyes, but she failed not to remark upon the fact of her toast being badly buttered and her tea sugarless. O " I am sorry, grannie," said Pamela, as she rectified her mistakes. " I think now you have all you want ; I must go upstairs and rest a bit. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 21 5 Will you mind having Peggy in to take care of you for this once ? I'm not well, I think, and my head aches so terribly." " No wonder you are ill, — going ramping about in such weather, and getting yourself drenched through and through. You'd best go to bed, and I'll send Peggy to you with some gruel. I want no waiting upon to speak of, thank Heaven ! so don't fret yourself about me. So she escaped to her own room, but there was no rest for her yet in spite of her throbbing brow and totterinsf limbs. Her little white bed looked cool and inviting; she longed, as she paced up and down, to lay her head on the pillow and shut her eyes, if it were only for a moment ; but her task must be accomplished first — her confession made : if the letter broke her own heart in the writing of it, and George's in the reading, it must be written. So she sat down again before the sheet of paper, blank hitherto except for a tear that had fallen on it. When Peggy brought the gruel she found her young mistress's door locked, though she 2l6 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. could tell by the direction of her voice and the light which shone through the keyhole that she was not in bed. She went slowly back to her kitchen with the rejected tray in her hand, feel- ing very anxious and uncomfortable, and spent' most of her evening in listening for any sound from upstairs. About half-past nine, when Mrs. Burnet was comfortably settled in bed, the kitchen door opened softly, and Pamela glided in, holding a letter in her hand. " Peggy," she said, " you must send this note over to Stourton for me at once, please." " Why, miss ! yew must be clean daft. Tu think of folks going to Stourton at this time of night, and in such weather tu ! " " I should like it to go now," she begged. " Wouldn't one of Mrs. Dickens' children take it ? " " Bless you ! they are all a-bed and asleep hours ago. Come now, Miss Pamela, Til send, off little Bob Dickens with it the first thing in the morning ; but you must just come along to bed now, for you du look like a ghost." With this assurance Pamela had to be con- A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 21 7 tent. "You won't forget?" she said, with a weary sigh, as she suffered herself to be led up- stairs to her room. Peggy undressed her and put her to bed as if she had been a child ; how delicious it was to find herself in that quiet, white nest at last, with the old servant's kindly hands tucking the sheets round her. " Oh, Peggy," she said, as she put up her face to be kissed, " how good you are to nie ! Yes, I will try and eat some of your gruel, though I don't think I w^ant it, but just to please you." " Indeed, you've tasted neither bite nor sup since dinner time, and you'll be having the fever at this rate, and going out in the rain and all. But sleep you well, my child, and you'll be as right as a trivet by the mornin'." But in spite of this exhortation, Pamela passed a terrible night. It was a time of dull, half-conscious pain, with short intervals of sleep broken by a maddening succession of dreams. From forgotten corners of her memory, strange faces and incidents sprung up, woven into grotesque confusion, and link- 2l8 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. ing together times and places which had no sort of connection. No thread of ideas had any rational ending : everything broke off suddenly, and merged into something else with an exhausting persistence which seemed end- less. One vision came back over and over again. She thought she saw George Lynton driving a coach with gilded panels, such as she had seen in a drawing-room procession years before in London. He was trying to urge the six cream-coloured horses up an almost perpendicular bank ; every time, just as they reached the top, they slipped back and came crashing down, carriage and all, in a horrible ruin ; and every time she felt the same sicken- ine terror and vain loncrins^ to rush forward and rescue George, yet at the same time she knew that she was lying in her bed and in a different world altogether from the dream- land in which he was suffering, though his world seemed more a reality than her own. When Peggy came to call her in the morning, she looked up wearily and said, "Oh, do pull down the blind, the fire glares so out- A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 219 side, and it seems to bum my eyes ! " Then she turned round, and, in the darkened room, fell at last into a quiet sleep. When she woke, the same twilight still reiened, and she was sensible of a rare sense of coolness and comfort. Lying with her eyes shut she presently discovered that some one was holding a cold wet bandage upon her head. She looked up, and met the glance of a pair of kindly brown eyes. " Who is it ? " she cried, nervously raising herself on one arm. "Why, Julia ! is it you ? How did you get here ? " " I came over to see you, and Peggy told me you were not well ; so I asked her to let me come up and sit with you for a bit ; she has so much to do for your grandmother." " That is very kind of you, but I don't think I am ill. Have I been here very long ? I seem to forget." ** You have been sleeping all the time since I have been here, and Doctor Bramwell said that was the best thing you could do. You must be taken care of though for a few days. 2 20 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. I should SO like to sta}- here and nurse you, if I might," she added timidly. " It is very kind of you, Julia, but you would be wanted at home, }'OU know." " At the Little Farm ? Oh no ; nobody wants me there at all. You must let me stay to-night, for I have written to tell them and to ask them to send over my things." Pamela was very glad to submit to the inevitable, and, indeed, Julia took good care of her. She brought her cooling drinks and tempting little mouthfuls of food ; her hands, her voice, her step, as she moved lightly and quickly about the room, were all pleasant and gentle. Once Pamela asked her who had tauorht her to be such a clever little nurse. " I've had plenty of practice," she said ; " I had to take care of poor mother all by myself, only I had none of the nice things for her I find ready at hand for you, and she. had to bear her pain in a noisy London lodging, instead of a quiet old house like this." " Poor Julia ! " said Pamela softly. " Leavino- her at nio^hts was the worst. Some- A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 221 times it was twelve o'clock before I could get back from— from the theatre, you know," she went on bravely, " and she couldn't bear being- alone in the dark. I used to give her a candle Avhen we could afford it, but that wasn't often." *' And you kept her and did everything for her yourself ? You, who were a child almost when I was a grown woman, and you have had all these troubles and done so bravely ! Oh, Julia, I feel as if I could fall down and worship you ! I never understood how good you were before, dear." " Other people would tell a different tale," said Julia with a hard laugh. " Other people think me a downright disgrace to the family. Don't you see how they all look at me at the Little Farm ? But there, you mustn't talk any more, and I think I hear the gig come with my things. Lie down, Pamela, and, oh dear, don't cr)' for me. I'm not worth your tears at any rate." Julia found her husband on the doorstep. *' I have brought your trunk," he said. "How is she ? Is it very bad ? " 222 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. " Doctor Bramwell says she has had a narrow escape of brain fever ; but she had a long sleep and there is no fear now. She will be about in a few days, but I should like to stay with her as long as I can be of use. I suppose you don't mind ? " " I mind very much, my wife; but you shall stay if you are willing," said Harold, and then, to her infinite surprise, he put his two hands on her shoulders and kissed her. Anne did not hear of her sisters illness till the next morning ; she then lost no time in coming to her, and was much hurt and surprised to find she had not been sent for at once. " You have none of you been very kind to her of late, from what I can make out," said Julia with her old candour ; " and I dare say she didn't care to send for you ; but she has been looked after." " We are much obliged to you for what you have done," said Anne with dignity, "but I like to nurse my own sister myself, thank you." To do Anne justice she repented of this speech afterwards, and when she had heard all A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 223 Pamela had to tell her of Julia, she went away into the next room to seek her, and, taking both the girl's hands in her own, begged her pardon for her harshness with a humility which was particularly striking in so comely and matronly a person. " And you were quite right," she added, " in saying we had been hard with Pamela all the time she was wantinof to set her- self right, poor child, and we were driving her away from it with our stupid severity." The meeting between the two sisters had been a very happy one. Anne had poured forth all her confession of love and tenderness, and then Pamela had told her what had happened. " I think I may let you see this," she said, drawing a letter from under her pillow. "It will show you how good he is, and how little he has deserved all this." There were a few lines written in George's hand, evidently in haste and agitation : — " I have been much more to blame than you, for I always knew that you could not love me best, and I should not have urged you to 2 24 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. accept a false position for m}' sake. I must take my punishment now It has come. If you are happy, I cannot be altogether miserable; so try and be comforted, Pamela, and that will most comfort me. G, L." Then Anne folded her penitent sister In her arms, and soothed and consoled her as If she had been a child. The soft summer air seemed to tell of peace and reconciliation as It blew In at the window ; best of all, little Nancy, who had been playing with Mrs. Burnet, broke loose from the old lady's now feeble supervision and came climbing upstairs. She rushed to her aunt's bedside, and scrambled up beside her like a kitten. " Auntie dear, why are you kying so ? Did they give you nasty jam ? " she asked, with sudden I'ecollection of her own small Illnesses and of powders administered under that seduc- tive disguise. " No, Nancy. It Isn't the powders ; but don't you cry when you've been naughty ? " " Iss. But you're not naughty, you're gown up." A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 225 " Ah, I wish I weren't grown up," she sighed ; " I wish I were a Httle body like you, and had only done Httle naughtinesses that didn't hurt anybody much ! You wouldn't love me any more if I were naughty, would you, Nancy ?" Nancy had just filled her little red mouth with a large strawberry, and was deprived of power of speech for the moment ; but she nodded her head gravely, and when the straw- berry was gone, she said with unusual dis- tinctness, " Yes, I suld, of course." That was the truest bit of comfort Pamela found in her troubles. VOL. II. 2 26 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. CHAPTER XV. " Hope, memory, love : Hope for fair morn, and love for day, And memory for the evening grey And solitary dove." It was soon known in Merehampstead that Mr. Lynton's foolish engagement was broken off. Naturally, the common opinion was that Pamela had been jilted, and that such a punishment was no more than her outrageous presumption had deserved. George had gone away to join some friends at Beckermouth, and only came over occasionally to see his mother ; and Pamela, after she recovered from her illness, went out very little, so there was an aggravating scarcity of material to build theories upon, and the good Merehampstead folks were driven to lay hold of the first and likeliest that came to hand, and A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 22/ to Stick to it in spite of contradictory rumours from Stourton itself. Pamela's illness was not a long one : in a few days, as Julia had prophesied, she was up and going about as usual ; and much against her will, her kind nurse had to leave her and return to the cold hospitality of the Little Farm. But her recovery did not altogether satisfy those who were watching her, and hoping day by day to see the old cheerfulness and brightness of health come back to her. Even Emilia, who returned at this time to Rose Hall, noticed the change in her sister. " She has got to be so quiet," she said to Anne. " Nothing seems to make her angry, and nothing seems to make her pleased. John says she is sorry for having been so foolish as to let George Lynton slip through her fingers, and that makes her dull ; but I don't think it can be that, for it was all her own doing, as everybody knows. John spoke to her about it the other day, and told her what a silly girl she had been, and how it had vexed Aunt Carry and all of us She did get a little angry then, I think ; you know 2 28 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. Pamela will never be spoken to. Well, she turned quite white, and walked to the door, and then at the last moment she turned round and said, ' I forbid you ever to speak to me on this subject again,' just as if she had been the Oueen and Parliament all in one, and off she marched out of the room. John was quite huffed about it, I can tell you ; but, dear me, it wasn't a bit like one of her old passions ! " "It was a good test of her temper cer- tainly," remarked Anne drily, " But John had better not carr^^ his experiments too far. Everybody hasn't got patient all of a sudden, if Pamela has." " You are always making nasty remarks about John, Anne," whimpered Emilia, " I am sure I don't keep saying such unkind things about Joe. John mayn't be so smooth-spoken as some other folks ; but then, think what a lot he has got on his mind, with the Manchester business still going on, and his property, and everything, I don't think it is sisterly of you to talk like that." " I'm very sorry, Milly dear. I do forget A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 229 like that he is your husband now and then ; but can't you make him leave Pamela alone ? She has had worries enough without him, goodness knows ! " " As if it would make any difference what I said I " answered Emilia, with a certain pride in her own incapacity. " My husband isn't one to listen to a woman, I can tell you, be she who she may." " Well, I must get her and grandmother over here a bit," said Anne hopefully. " We'll see if we can cheer her up a little, won't we, Nancy dear ? And the fresh air will put a scrap of colour into her cheeks perhaps. I don't know myself how folks manage to live cooped up in a street, with a yard at the back where you couldn't swing a cat, like Pamela has. And she brought up so differently too 1 " This invitation was given soon after, and very thankfully accepted. Pamela was glad to escape into the country, and to the old grey house where so many of her happiest days had been passed, and which, next to Rose Hall, she loved best of any place in the world. Her 230 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. grandmother, too, seemed less fretful and exact- ing in the bright, cheerful atmosphere of Anne's home. The scrupulous neatness of the house pleased her sense of order, and reflected some credit on herself ; for she often reminded Anne of the pains that had been bestowed upon her bringing-up, and bade her be thankful that she had been taught thrifty, housewifely ways when she was young, " Not but what you are a credit to your teaching, Anne, and that I will allow, and it's more than could be said for either of your sisters; for anything more shiftless than Emilia's ways I never did see, with all the table and breakfast cloths mixed ujd in the linen press, and the big sheets folded in with the little ones, and the eggs all jumbled about so that you can't tell one laying from another. As for Pamela, she has always got a book in her hand since she was ill ; that seems to be all she is fit for." Another reason why Pamela was glad to go- to Rose Hall was, that it was nearer to the Little Farm and gave her more frequent opportunities of seeing Julia. It was no morbid sentiment which attracted her to Harold's wife. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 23 1 To her old childish generosity and warm- heartedness Julia had added stronger and deeper qualities, which ought to have preserved her from the fate that had fallen to her had not circumstances been very hard upon her. As thines were, her love for her husband seemed turning to mere bitterness ; her self-respect had been wounded almost to death, and Pamela was sometimes driven to think that no fate that Harold had saved her from could have been much worse than what he was bringing her to ignorantly. During the time they were together she had been very frank about her past troubles, and Pamela had learnt the whole of her history up to the time of her marriage. "It was such a happy time we had in London before the ruin came," she told her friend, as they sat together in the dusk one evening when Pamela was getting better. "We had such a beautiful house. I've been to Stourton once, but I don't think, so far as I can recollect, that the carpets and furniture there were fit to compare with what we had. I never 232 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. had the full enjoyment of it, you know, because I was shut up almost all day with my gover- ness. You can't think how I used to count the days till I should be seventeen. I was to be set free then, and I used to think it would be all riding about on my beautiful horse, and joaying visits, and enjoying myself. And then the dreadful time came. Oh, Pamela ! can you imagine how horrible it must be to see every- thing belonging to you sold ? The very bed you used to lie upon, the glass you have seen your own face in a thousand times, down to my mother's gold bracelets and fur mantle, — every- thing went in a single day. Of our clothes they only let us keep the shabby ones. There was an old blue stuff gown I had put aside to give to a buy-a-broom girl that used to pass the house ; well, I had to put that on to go away in. Poor father got so angry because I cried and wanted to take something better out of the press where all my pretty things were put away. He said they didn't belong to us, and I was no better than a thief : but how could one think of one's dresses that had all been cut to fit belong- A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 233 ing to any one else ? Then poor father died, away in a miserable lodging we went to out at Lambeth. You know the wicked stories they told about him after he was dead," she con- tinued, flushing with wrath. " They wouldn't leave him alone even then ; and he couldn't bear any one to speak ill of him ; but he was past knowing by that time, and so I suppose it didn't matter, ** Well then, you know, we got poorer and poorer, mother and I ; and at last I had to do something. They all say now I might have found 'decent work,' such as plain sewing or teaching ; but good heavens, Pamela ! how much do you think I could have earned at plain work, when I could never sew a seam straight in my life ? And fancy me teaching ! Why, I can't spell nicely enough even to please my own husband to this very day ! Besides, I don't deny it, I had often been to the theatre, and I'd thought sometimes it must be nice enough to be dressed up in those pretty, gay dresses and go dancing about to the music with all the people clapping their hands. It is 234 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS, pretty to look at, Isn't it ? but oh, it is very different when you are in the midst of it all ! Why, I have cried over every yard of muslin in my skirts, for the money for it came out of my poor mother's daily bread ! It is all very well dancing when you are light of heart, but when you are sad and perhaps hungry too, it comes to be very different. It was a horrible time ; I wish I could forget it. I was dancing away, Pamela, the very night my mother died. I came home and found her struggling for breath; a widow woman who lodcred in the house came u|) and kept with me or else I should have been all alone with her. Perhaps you think I ought to have given up the theatre after that. Well, I don't know ; I had to get my living and I didn't know any other way." " Tell me the rest," said Pamela taking her hand. " There is not much more to tell. Soon after that I met Harold. It was going past a shop one rainy night. I suppose the light shone on my face, and he stopped and looked at me. I think I should have run on, for I A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 235 didn't want him to know all about me, but he looked so miserable himself; so I waited and shook hands. He made me tell him all ni)- history ; but he told me nothing of his. Then he made me leave the theatre, and he took me away from my old lodgings because, he said, it wasn't a fit place for a young w^oman alone, and I was oflad enough to be a little looked after ; and so things went on, till one day he came and asked me to marry him. That was such a happy day — almost the last happy day of my life. Oh, Pamela," she burst forth with a sudden surge of passion ; " had he any right to treat me so ? He never said one word of the reason. He asked me just as if he loved me, and wanted me for my own sake. He never said one word of all the bad things people had said of us — as if I should have cared ! How was I to know he didn't love me, and only did it because he thought he had brought me a bad name, and wanted to set me right ? ' Right,' indeed ! I don't know what was wrong if that was right." " Dear Julia ! it Avill come right even yet, I am sure it will, if only you have patience and 235 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. go on loving your husband. When once you are alone and away from here all will be well. Why don't you persuade him to take you away ? " "He is going away to the West Indies, he says, on this new business he has got ; but he doesn't want the pleasure of my company. I will stop behind if he likes, but not at his mother's house I vow," she answered, with flashing eyes. '' I won't live to be patronized by Mrs. Turrell, and tolerated by Mrs. Campeny, like an unhappy foundling they are forced to dole out a living to. I'll go back to my old life sooner, and be free of them all." Pamela was silent, and Julia could not help thinking her friend a little cold ; but in reality she was almost too deeply pained to speak, and she knew how impossible it was that she, of all people, should be mediator between Harold Turrell and his wife. Soon after this she went to the Abbey, and while there she saw Julia very frequently, and Harold, also, on one or two occasions. As time went on it really seemed that her prophecy was A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 237 coming true, and she felt sure that things were improving at the Little Farm. Julia lost her hard, defiant look, Harold became more kind to her, and even Mrs. Turrell appeared to be pleased with the improvement in her daughter- in-law. Pamela set this happy change down to Mrs. Campeny s management ; but, in fact, her own friendship for the poor, neglected girl had done more than anything else to bring it about, and had, in her husband's eyes at least, cast a new halo around Julia. No more was said about Harold's journey to the West Indies till he surprised every one by coming up to the Abbey, one August morn- ing, to announce his immediate departure and say good-bye." " When do you leave here ? " said Pamela, as he came over to shake hands with her the last thing. They were in the old hall, and Pamela was standing rather apart from the others, under one of the great, arched windows, holding a bunch of freshly-gathered roses in her hand. " I shall start for London to-morrow morn- 2^8 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. •O ing, but I don't suppose I shall sail for another three weeks at any rate ; there is a good deal to do first." " Shall I see Julia before she goes ? I should like to, if she is not too busy." " Julia would not thank me to take her on such a journey. I shall not be more than six or eight months away, and she will be happier at home." He held out his hand as if he wished to avoid any further discussion. Pamela set down her roses in a sweet, dewy heap on the stone window-sill ; she flushed all over her face and neck, and when she spoke it was in reluctant, hesitating accents, as if the words came against her will. " I am sure she would like to go — would be happier with you — and better. Good-bye. I wish you a safe journey," she added, with a sudden recoil from earnestness to coldness, and she went swiftly away, having just touched his hand with the tips of her fingers, on which the dew and scent of the roses still lingered. Once in her own room she burst into tears. What right had she, of all people, to talk to A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 239 Harold about his wife ? What would he think of her ? And then she felt sure it would be useless. The next day Harold left Merehampstead ; he was alone, but he had made arrangements for his wife to follow him in a few days. She and Pamela met once more in the meantime, Julia was radiant with joy and hope. " He was so kind about it," she said, with tears in her eyes, " and I really believe now he only wanted to leave me at home for my own sake, because he thought I should not like the sea. As if I would not go anywhere to be with him ! There is no one like him, I think, so good and kind and clever. I shall have him all to myself, away from his mother and every one (though I'm sorry for her too, poor soul), and I'll try and make up to him for all he has done for me. Ah, Pamela, what a dear prophet you were ! It was you who gave me a little hope to begin with, wasn't it ? And I shall never forget how good you have been to me — never, never." But she never knew quite all that she owed to her friend. 240 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. CHAPTER XVI. " That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea." After Harold and his wife had left Mere- hampstead, there came at the close of the wet, stormy summer, a month of almost unbroken fine weather. Pamela went strolling- about the garden, and down to her old haunts by the river, sometimes with little Nancy, sometimes alone ; often carrying a book in her hand, but reading little, for her thoughts seemed fre- quently to wander away into some quiet region^ half sad, half happy, but altogether patient and restful. Her friends wished to see her more actively employed, and Anne often suggested various occupations which she might turn to with advantage. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 24 1 " With your money and leisure, Pamela, you might do no end of good in the world, instead of going mooning about all day long as you do." " I am going to be very busy when I get back to Mere," she would answer smilingly. " But this is my holiday, and I don't mean to be cheated out of it for any one." " I wish, at all events, you wouldn't be for ever reading Sunday books," said Emilia. "It makes one feel quite uncomfortable. You don't feel ill, do you ? " '' No, Milly, not at all ; but I feel like Sundays sometimes on week-days. It is so quiet here, and nothing to do. You can manage to put up with that amount of pecu- liarity in an unmarried woman, can't you ? I have no John, you see, to define Mondays from Sundays so clearly." One balmy morning, when the trees were beginning to take their first tinge of yellow under the cloudless sky, she went down towards the old boat-house, with the half-hope of finding Molly Jones, who, as Totty's eldest sister, had VOL. II. R 242 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. been appointed as little Nancy's nurse, wander- ing about there with her charge. But she found the boat-house empty and silent, except for the quiet ripple of the water. She made herself comfortable in the bow of one of the boats, and drew her book from her pocket. It was a little old-fashioned volume of George Herbert, that had belonged to her mother, and still bore her faded marks on its pages, which were getting yellow and mildew-spotted now. The blue river ran past briskly and merrily, leaving in its sweep a little space of quiet water in front of the boat-house. Now and then a scarlet leaf from the creeper round the archway fluttered down to this calm surface, to float on slowly till the current caught and hurried it away. It was the first brilliant touch of autumn that was glowing upon the trees, and gleaming in a few bright, new-fallen leaves from the grass : the time when the fulness of summer melts into something still more gorgeous and com- plete, and which bears as yet no promise of decay — no threat of the forlorn, chill days to come. In the midst of this colour and bright- ^ 1 ^ A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 24 ness, Pamela sat reading a quiet little poem called " Evensong : " " Yet still thou goest on, And now with darknesse closest wearie eyes, Saying to men, ' It doth suffice — Henceforth repose, your work is done.' " Thus in thy ebony box Thou dost inclose us, till the day Put new amendment in our way, And give new wheels to our disordered clocks." &' As she read, the quiet, night sky seemed to close over her head, and the stars to look down upon her ; the " ebony box " to take her into its darkness and refreshing calm. This was what she needed — rest, and then an awakening to another and hio^her life. Not to forget — that could not be ; but to learn to look upon her past as on the events of yesterday, and in the light of a new and greater to-day. Whether it were her fault or her misfortune, life had eone wrong with her, she had made shipwreck of hope and joy ; but not of faith, and her yearn- ings were above and beyond all these things. Suddenly she heard a sound which made her let fall her book and start to her feet. It was a 244 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. scream, long, sharp, and breathless; and then came a rush of feet through the little fir planta- tion to her left hand. She sprang from the boat, and ran to meet the new comer. It was Molly, with her bonnet hanging round her neck, flying at full speed towards the house. " Oh, Miss Pamela ! " she cried, seizing her arm, " run to the house. I can't. She has fallen into the water — Nancy has ! I've no breath left." " Come back, comeback!" exclaimed Pamela. *' Show me where. There is no time to go to the house ; come with me, Molly." 1 They hastened into the boat-house ; the spot where the child had fallen in was higher up, but Pamela remembered the current and that it was better to start low down the river and make her way up. There were two boats in the boat-house : the one she had been sitting in was that which was always used, and would have been safe and manageable enough, but alas ! it was chained and padlocked to its iron ring ; the other, however, had been considered too old and worthless to need such a precaution^ A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. ~ 245 and was only fastened by a bit of rope. As Pamela sprung into it the water came gurgling in through half-a-dozen cracks and rifts, and it was as much as she could do to keep her balance while she loosed the knot that held it. She snatched a coil of rope from the other boat, and passing one end of it through the ring, she knotted it into a firm loop and put it into Molly's hand ; the other end she fastened to the bow of the boat she was in. " Now Molly," she cried, seizing an oar and steadying herself in her standing position, " I will push out, and you let out the rope as I go ; when I hold up my hand begin to pull me in. I think you will be able if I can keep off the other side where the water runs so. Pull the moment I shout or hold up my hand, mind." " Oh, don't go, don't go ! " implored Molly. '' The boat is sinking: this blessed moment. It'll be two lost instead of one." But Pamela had already pushed her crazy craft out beyond the arch of the boat-house. It was so un- steady she could hardly keep her footing, but at that moment a little white object rose to the 246 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. surface of the water, and she must have seen it and taken heart. Another vigorous push, and the oar sHpped from her hands, but she had leant over and seized the child's clothes. This was all she could do ; Nancy's drenched garments seemed to drag her under the boat, and, from her insecure footing, Pamela could venture upon no sudden effort, but holding the child still in the water with one hand she raised the other as a signal to Molly. Hope dawned on Molly's mind for the first time as she began to pull, but it was but shortlived. The boat had floated out quite into the current by this time, and her struggles with the rope had only the effect of making it grow more and more tense until it became quite evident that it could not bear such a strain much longer. Just then she saw Pamela stoop down still lower to the water. She took a shorter length of rope from the boat and seemed to attach it to the child's clothes. Then she looked up again and cried, " Now, Molly ! " Molly nearly fell backwards as the rope suddenly yielded to her efforts. " I don't A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 247 know how I righted myself," she said after- wards ; " but I think it was the sight of her in the boat. It shot down the stream hke an arrow once she loosed the rope. She was standing, though I don't know how she kept her feet with the boat rocking like that and nigh upon ready to sink : but she stood quite upright, with her two hands clasped and such a look on her face. I think she knew the child was saved ; but the boat was swept out of sight in a moment. Then I took little Nancy in my arms — like a dead thing she was — and ran home. No ; I met nobody, tho' I screamed for help all the way as I went, till close against the house there was a ofentleman on horseback and I told him. I didn't see it was Mr. George at the time. He rode off like a madman, and I took the child in to her mother." It was long before they dared to tell Anne at what a price the life of her child had been saved. Not till the little thing had been restored to consciousness, then soothed and comforted, and had finally fallen into a sound 248 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. sleep, did any one hint, or Anne inquire about the other circumstances of the accident. Then Joe broke the news to her as gently as he could. It was late in the afternoon when a bare- headed, pallid-cheeked woman went flying down towards the boat-house. The little throng that had gathered about the door, parted in respect- ful silence to let her pass, and she went in. There was the same quiet ripple which Pamela had always loved, the same softened light reflected up from the water, the same flitting lights overhead. In the very heart of this calm she lay enshrined ; her long brown hair swept back over the pillow, her eyes almost closed, and a smile hovering about her lips. The leaves of the book she had been reading, and which still lay on the floor, fluttered in the soft air, " It doth suffice. Henceforth repose " This benison was hers now. In this quiet place where she had so often, as she once said, '* longed to come away and rest," she had at last found to the full her heart's desire. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 249 Towards evening time they carried her up to the Abbey ; but before that, one other tribute was paid to the majesty which Death had thrown around her. Mrs. Lynton had heard certain vague reports of an accident in the river in which her son's name was mingled. He had only arrived from Beckermouth that morning, and she felt almost sure that he had ridden in the direction of the Abbey. At last her anxiety grew ungovernable, and she determined to go and inquire for him. She had been gradually led to the scene of the disaster by various and contradictory scraps of information, and she was little prepared for what met her eyes when she entered the boat-house. Anne and Georee were the only watchers there : neither of them took any notice of her approach ; indeed, Anne never lifted her head and probably did not see her. She went and stood by her son with her hand on his arm. At last, moved by an irresistible impulse, she bent down and kissed the cold forehead of the woman she had so long looked upon as her greatest enemy, and 250 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. burst into a flood of tears. George's arms were round her in a moment. " Persuade him to go home," said Anncr looking up at last and taking her hand. " He has been so long in those wet clothes, and no one can do anything now." So life and the little demands of to-day came creeping back upon those she had loved best. They who would willingly have borne her company into the still land whither she had gone, had no choice but to hurry on in the ways that were appointed for them, leaving to her the stillness, the victory over sorrow outlived, the triumph of rest that is attained. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 251 POSTSCRIPT. " Had I my will, beloved, I would say- To God, unto whose bidding all things bow, That we were still together night and day : Yet be it done as His behests allow. I do remember that while she remained With me, she often called me her sweet friend, But does not now. Because God drew her towards Him in the end. Lady, that peace which none but He can send Be thine. Even so." There is not much more to tell about Pamela's sisters. Anne outlived, though she never forgot, her trouble. In course of time she became the mother of a family of stalwart sons, but Nancy remained her only daughter and the apple of her father's eye. In after years, when she was grown a slim, thoughtful girl, she would lead her little brothers down to the old boat- house, which had become sacred ground now ; and while they stood round, bareheaded and 252 A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. awe-Struck, she would tell them how their brave and beautiful aunt had here given up her life to save Nancy's own. It was a story they never w^earied of hearing, and Pamela's name came to be regarded among them as that of a house- hold saint. Emilia and her husband grew more and more prosperous as years went on. Every- thing John took in hand seemed to turn to money, and he became, as the local newspapers put it, " an honour and an ornament to the neighbourhood." In course of time he became master of Stourton Hall, and his wife reigned In the stately old house where Pamela had once had a chance of beinof mistress. There was, however, one bitter drop In Emilia's cup : Anne never would yield proper deference to her younger, but wealthier sister, and to the end of the chapter reserved to herself the right of making disparaging remarks about Emilia's husband, and what was worse, about her house- keeping and the bad manners of her children. This disagreeable frankness led in time to a painful coolness between the families. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 253 George Lynton succeeded his grandfather in his tide and estates. His reign was a short but beneficent one. He died before he had quite reached middle age, still unmarried. His heir was a distant relation whom Georo-e had never seen, and as he had property of his own in a neighbouring county which he did not care to leave, the old Hall was let, and Mr. John Burnet became its first tenant. The poor folks in the neighbourhood used to talk among themselves about the good old times when the " real gentry " lived up at Stourton ; and many of them cherished loving- memories of the last lord, and would point with pride to the school and almshouses he had built, and the marshes he had drained, and would pray for such another friend with many shakes of the head at the mere name of John Burnet. As John, however, took particular pains to discover what doles of soup, coals, and blankets had been distributed by his predecessors, and to perpetuate these charities, a good deal of this may be put down to the well-known unthank^ fulness of the poor. 254 ^ STORY OF THREE SISTERS. Mrs. Long, in spite of her ill-health, lived to a good old age. She always continued to be remarkable for the Christian fortitude with which she bore her sufferings, and for her gentle and amiable manners. Harold Turrell never returned to Mere- hampstead, nor did he ever write any more music. His business turned out moderately successful, and enabled him to provide decently for his wife and family. Sometimes when his children grew old enough he w^ould improvise little airs and ballads for them, but he would never even listen to his wife's suo-o-estions that he should write down these compositions. He was fond of playing to himself, too, in those daysj and Julia one evening, gliding into the room at twilight when he had been so employed, found him bowed down before the instrument, his head buried in his hands, and his whole form shaken by sobs. There were some chambers in her husband's heart which she knew were not for her to look into — some troubles which she dared not seek to share with him ; so she slid away, making no sign, to bear his sorrow and her own in secret. A STORY OF THREE SISTERS. 255 He and George Lynton met once before the death of the latter, and there was recon- ciliation, if not full explanation, between them. That either of them quite understood the coil of misunderstanding and misrepresentation Avhich had made such havoc of their own lives, and of that other life much dearer to them than their own, is scarcely likely. But explanation is not always the best soother of difficulties even in this hard-headed Avorld ; and if they learnt to believe in one another before every- thing was made quite plain to them, perhaps it was so much the better, and they had ap- proached so much nearer to Pamela's loving trustfulness — to her sweet and gentle faith, which made life seem holier and purer to them both, even when they had only the memory of her to guide them on to the end. THE END. Printed by William Moore &^ Co. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-10m-3,'48(A7920)444 THE TTFR\RY -^-^-m-t ■-» A-i -w r-r*-^ r : iUKlA. -pf- ^?5ie_story of AA 000 374 152 7 ® sisters. PR h988 V.2 \\m iiiHMi