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.
 
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