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 THAT STICK
 
 THAT STICK 
 
 BY , 
 
 CHARLOTTE M. YONGE 
 
 in 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFK,' 'UNKNOWN TO HISTORY, 
 
 ETC. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 VOL. I 
 
 ILontion 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YORK 
 
 1892 
 
 All rights reserved
 
 v.l
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 Honours . 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 The Peer . 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 The Weight of Honours . 
 
 PAQ] 
 
 1 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Honours reflected . .15 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 What is Honour? . . • 33 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Honours waning . 
 
 4S 
 
 60
 
 vi CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Mortons and Manners . . . .68 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Second Thoughts . . . . .81 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 The Heir -Presumptuous . . . .88 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 Coming Honours . . . . .106 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 Possession . . . . . .116 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 The Burthen of Honours . . .128 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 The Dower House . . . .135 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 W'i -sthaven Versions of Honours . . 146 
 
 CHAPTEE XV 
 
 The Pied Roue . . . .164
 
 CONTENTS vii 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 PAGE 
 
 What is Rest ? . . .177 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 On the Surface . . . . .189 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 Desdichado . . . . .199 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 The Dolomites . . . . .214 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 Ratzes ...... 226 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 The Heir-Apparent .... 235 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 Oct of Joint ..... 242
 
 CHAPTEE I 
 
 HONOURS 
 
 ' Oh, there's that stick. What can he want ? ' 
 sighed one of a pair of dignified elderly ladies, in 
 black silk, to the other, as in a quiet country-town 
 street they saw themselves about to be accosted by 
 a man of about forty, with the air of a managing 
 clerk, who came up breathlessly, with a flush on 
 his usually pale cheeks. 
 
 ' Miss Lang ; I beg pardon ! May I be allowed 
 a few words with Miss Marshall ? I know it is 
 unusual, but I have something unusual to tell her.' 
 
 ' Nothing distressing, I hope, Mr. Morton,' said 
 
 one of the ladies, startled. 
 
 vol. i B
 
 2 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' Oh no, quite the reverse,' he said, with a 
 nervous laugh ; ' in fact, I have unexpectedly come 
 into a property ! ' 
 
 ' Indeed !' with great astonishment/ I congratulate 
 you,' as the colour mounted in his face, pleasant, 
 honest, but with the subdued expression left by long- 
 years of patience in a subordinate position. 
 
 ' May I ask ' began the other sister. 
 
 ' I hardly understand it yet,' was the answer ; 
 'but I must go to town by the 5.10 train, and I 
 should like her to hear it from myself.' 
 
 ' Oh, certainly ; it does you honour, Mr. Morton.' 
 
 They were entering the sweep of one of those 
 large substantial houses on the outskirts of country 
 towns that have a tendency to become boarding- 
 schools, and such had that of the Misses Lang been 
 long before the days of the High School. 
 
 ' Fortunately it is recreation-time,' said Miss Lang, 
 as she conducted Mr. Morton to the drawing-room,
 
 I HONOURS 3 
 
 hung round with coloured drawings, in good taste, if 
 stiff, and chiefly devoted to interviews with parents. 
 
 ' Poor little Miss Marshall ! ' murmured one 
 sister, when they had shut him in. 
 
 ' What a loss she will be ! ' 
 
 'She deserves any good fortune.' 
 
 ' She does. Is it not twenty years ? ' 
 
 ' Twenty-two next August, sister.' 
 
 Yes, it was twenty - two years since Mary 
 Marshall had been passed from the Clergy Orphan 
 Asylum to be English governess at Miss Lang's 
 excellent school at Hurminster. In that town 
 resided, with her two sons, Mrs. Morton, the widow 
 of a horse-dealing farmer in the late Mr. Marshall's 
 parish. On discovering the identity of the English 
 governess with the little girl who had admired the 
 foals, lambs, and chickens in past times, Mrs. Morton 
 gave invitations to tea. She was ladylike, the sons 
 unexceptionable, and no objection could reasonably
 
 4 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 be made by the Misses Lang, though the acquaint- 
 ance was regretted by them. 
 
 Mr. Morton, the father, had died in debt and 
 distress, and the eldest son had been thankful for a 
 clerkship in the office of Mr. Burford, a solicitor in 
 considerable practice, and man of business to several 
 of the county magnates. Frank Morton was not 
 remarkable for talent or enterprise, but he was 
 plodding and trustworthy, methodical and accurate, 
 and he had continued in the same position, except 
 that time had made him senior instead of junior 
 clerk. Partly from natural disposition, partly from 
 weight of responsibility, he had always been a grave, 
 steady youth, one of those whom their contem- 
 poraries rank as sticks and muffs, because not 
 exalted by youthful spirits or love of daring. His 
 mother and brother had always been his primary 
 tin nr 'lit ; and his recreations were of the sober-sided 
 sort — the chess club, the institute, the choral society.
 
 i HOXOUES 5 
 
 He was a useful, though not a distinguished, 
 member of the choir of St. Basil's Church, and a 
 punctual and diligent Sunday-school teacher of the 
 least interesting boys. To most of the world of 
 Hurminster he was almost invisible, to the rest 
 utterly insignificant. Even his mother was far less 
 occupied with him than with his brother Charles, 
 who was much handsomer, more amusing and 
 spirited, as well as far less contented or easy to be 
 reckoned upon. But there was one person to whom 
 he was everything, namely, little brown-eyed, soft- 
 voiced Mary Marshall. 
 
 She felt herself the happiest of creatures when, 
 after two years of occasional evening teas and walks 
 to Evensong at St. Basil's, it was settled that she 
 should become his wife as soon as his salary should 
 be increased, and Charlie be in condition to assist 
 in supporting his mother. Ever since, Mary had 
 rested on that hope, and the privileges it gave.
 
 6 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 She had loyally informed the Misses Lang, who 
 were scarcely propitious, but could not interfere, as 
 long as their pupils (or they believed so) surmised 
 nothing. So the Sunday evening intercourse became 
 more frequent, and in the holidays, when the home- 
 less governess had always remained to superintend 
 cleaning and repairs, there were many pleasant 
 hours spent with kind old Mrs. Morton, who, if she 
 had ever wished that Frank had waited longer and 
 chosen some one with means, never betrayed it to 
 the girl whom she soon loved as a daughter. 
 
 Two years had at first been thought of as the 
 period of patience. Charles had a situation as clerk 
 in a shipping office at Westhaven, a small seaport 
 about twenty miles off, and his mother was design- 
 ing to go to keep house for him, when he announced 
 that his banns had been asked with the daughter of 
 the captain and part-owner of a small trading vessel 
 of the port
 
 i HONOURS 7 
 
 The Hurminster couple must defer their plans 
 till further promotion ; and so far from helping his 
 mother, Charles ere long was applying to her, when 
 in need, for family expenses. 
 
 Then came a terrible catastrophe. Charlie had 
 been ill, and in his convalescence was taken on a 
 voyage by his father-in-law. There was a collision 
 in the Channel, and the Emma Jane and all on 
 board were lost. The insurance did not cover the 
 pecuniary loss ; debts came to light, and nothing 
 was left for the widow and her three children 
 except a seaside lodging-house in which her father 
 had invested his savings. 
 
 The children's education and great part of their 
 maintenance must fall on their uncle ; and again 
 his marriage must wait till this burthen was lessened. 
 Old Mrs. Morton died ; and meetings thus became 
 more difficult and infrecpient. Frank had hoped to 
 retain the little house where he had lived so long ;
 
 8 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 but his sister-in-law's demands were heavy, and he 
 found himself obliged to sell his superfluous furniture, 
 and commit himself to the rough attendance of the 
 housekeeper at the office, where two rooms were 
 granted to him. 
 
 Thus had year after year gone by, unmarked 
 except by the growth of the young people at West- 
 haven and the demand of their mother on the 
 savings that were to have been a nest-egg, while 
 gray threads began to appear in Mary's hair, and 
 Frank's lighter locks to leave his temples bare. 
 
 So things stood when, on this strange afternoon, 
 Miss Marshall was summoned mysteriously from 
 watching the due performance of an imposition, and 
 was told, outside the door, that Mr. Morton wantrd 
 to speak to her. 
 
 It was startling news, for though the Misses 
 Lang were kindly women, and had never thrown 
 obstacles in the way of her engagement, they had
 
 I HONOURS 9 
 
 merely permitted it, and almost ignored it, except 
 when old Mrs. Morton was dying, and they had 
 freely facilitated her attendance. ' Surely something 
 as dreadful as the running down of the Emma Jane 
 must have happened ! ' thought Mary as she sped to 
 the drawing-room. She was a little brown mouse 
 of a woman, with soft dark eyes, smooth hair, and 
 a clear olive complexion, on which thirty -eight 
 years of life and eighteen of waiting had not left 
 much outward trace ; for the mistresses were good 
 women, who had never oppressed their underling, 
 and though she had not met with much outward 
 sympathy or companionship, the one well of hope 
 and joy might at times suffer drought, but had 
 never run dry, any more than the better fountain 
 within and beyond. 
 
 In she came, with eyes alarmed but ready to 
 console. ' Oh, Frank, what is it ? What can I do 
 for you ? '
 
 10 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' It is no bad news/ was his greeting, as he put 
 his arm round her trembling little figure and kissed 
 her brow. ' Only too good.' 
 
 ' Oh, is Mrs. Charles going to be married ? ' the 
 only hopeful contingency she could think of. 
 
 ' No/ he said ; ' but, Mary, an extraordinary 
 incident has taken place. I have inherited a 
 property.' 
 
 ' A property ? You are well off ! Oh, thank 
 God ! ' and she clasped her hands, then held his. 
 ' At last ! But what ? How ? Did you know ? ' 
 
 ' I knew of the connection, but that the family 
 had never taken notice of my father. As to the 
 rest I was entirely unprepared. My great-grand- 
 father was a younger son of the first Lord Northmoor, 
 but for some misconduct was cast off and proscribed. 
 As you know, my grandfather and father devoted 
 themselves to horses on the old farm, and made no 
 pretensions to gentility. The elder branch of the
 
 I HONOURS 1 1 
 
 family was once numerous, but it must have since 
 dwindled till the old lord was left with only a little 
 grandson, who died of diphtheria a short time before 
 his grandfather.' 
 
 ' Poor old man ! ' began Mary. ' Then — oh ! do 
 you mean that he died too ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; he was ill before, and this was a fatal 
 blow. It appears that he was aware that I was 
 next in the succession, and after the boy's death 
 had desired the solicitor to write to me as heir-at- 
 law.' 
 
 ' Heir-at-law ! Frank, do you mean that you 
 are ' she said, turning pale. 
 
 ' Baron Northmoor/ he answered, ' and you, my 
 patient Mary, will be the baroness as soon as may be.' 
 
 ' Oh, Frank ! ' — and there was a rush of tears — 
 ' dear Frank, your hard work and cares are all 
 over ! ' 
 
 ' I am not sure of that,' he said gravely ; ' but,
 
 12 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 at least, this long waiting is over, and I can give 
 you everything.' 
 
 ' But, oh ! ' she cried, sobbing uncontrollably, 
 with her face hidden in her handkerchief. 
 
 ' Mary, Mary ! what does this mean ? Don't 
 you understand ? There's nothing to hinder it now.' 
 
 She made a gesture as if to put him back from 
 her, and struggled for utterance. 
 
 ' It is very dear, very good ; but — but it can't 
 be now. You must not drag yourself down with me.' 
 
 ' That is just nonsense, Mary. You are far 
 fitter for this than I am. You are the one joy 
 in it to me.' 
 
 ' You think so now,' she said, striving to hold 
 herself back ; ' but you won't by and by.' 
 
 ' Do you think me a mere boy to change so 
 easily ? ' said the new lord earnestly. ' I look on 
 this as a heavy burthen and very serious respon- 
 sibility: but it is to you whom I look to sweeten
 
 i HONOURS 13 
 
 it, help me through with it, and guard me from its 
 temptations.' 
 
 ' If I could.' 
 
 1 Come, Mary, I am forced to go to London 
 immediately, and then on to the funeral. I shall 
 miss the train if I remain another minute. Don't 
 send me away with a sore heart. Tell me that 
 your affection has not been worn out by these 
 weary years.' 
 
 ' You cannot think so, Frank,' she sobbed. 
 ' You know it has only grown. I only want to do 
 what is best for you.' 
 
 ' Not another word,' he said, with a fresh kiss. 
 ' That is all I want for the present.' 
 
 He was gone, while Mary crept up to her little 
 attic, there to weep out her agitated, uncertain 
 feelings. 
 
 ' Oh, he is so good ! He deserves to be great. 
 That I should be his first thought ! Dear dear
 
 14 THAT STICK CHAP. I 
 
 fellow ! But I ought to give him up. I ought not 
 to be a drag on him. It would not be fair on him. 
 I can love him and watch him all the same ; but 
 oh, how dreary it will be to have no Sunday after- 
 noons ! Is this selfish ? Is this worldly ? Oh, 
 help me to do right, and hold to what is best for 
 him!' 
 
 And whenever poor Mary had any time to 
 herself out of sight of curious eyes, she spent it 
 in concocting a letter that went near to the break- 
 ing of her constant heart.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 HONOURS REFLECTED 
 
 On the beach at Westhaven, beyond the town and 
 harbour, stood a row of houses, each with a garden 
 of tamarisk, thrift, and salt-loving flowers, frequented 
 by lodgers in search of cheap sea breezes, and some- 
 times by families of yachting personages who liked 
 to have their headquarters on shore. 
 
 Two girls were making their way to one of these. 
 One was so tall though very slight, that in spite of 
 the dark hair streaming in the wind, she looked 
 more than her fifteen years, and her brilliant pink- 
 and- white complexioned face confirmed the im- 
 pression. Her sister, keeping as much as she could
 
 16 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 under her lee, was about twelve years old, much 
 more childish as well as softer, smaller, with lighter 
 colouring and blue eyes. Going round the end of 
 the house, they entered by the back door, and turn- 
 ing into a little parlour, they threw off their hats 
 and gloves. The younger one began to lay the 
 table for dinner, while the elder, throwing herself 
 down panting, called out — 
 
 ' Ma, here's a letter from uncle. I'll open it. 
 I hope he's not crusty about that horrid low 
 millinery business.' 
 
 ' Yes, do,' called back a voice across the tiled 
 passage. ' I've had no time. This girl has put me 
 about so with Mrs. Leeson's luncheon that I've not 
 had a moment. Of all the sluts I've ever been 
 plagued with, she's the very worst, and so I tell her 
 till I'm ready to drop. What is it then, Ida ? ' as 
 an inarticulate noise was heard. 
 
 • Ma ! ma ! uncle is a lord ! ' came back in a gasp.
 
 II HONOURS REFLECTED 17 
 
 ' What ? ' 
 
 1 Uncle's a lord ! Oh ! ' 
 
 ' Your uncle ! That stick of a man ! Don't 
 be putting your jokes on me, when I'm worrited 
 to death ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Morton, in fretful 
 tones. 
 
 'No joke. It's true — Lord JSTorthmoor.' And 
 this brought Mrs. Morton out of the kitchen in her 
 apron and bib, with a knife in one hand and a bunch 
 of parsley in the other. She was a handsome 
 woman, in the same style as Ida, but her complexion 
 had grown harder than accorded with the slightly 
 sentimental air she assumed when she had time to 
 pity herself. 
 
 ' It is ! it is ! ' persisted Ida, reading scraps from 
 the letter ; '" Title and estates devolve on me — family 
 bereavements — elder line extinct." ' 
 
 ' Give me the letter. Oh, you gave me such a 
 
 turn ! ' said Mrs. Morton, sinking into a chair. 
 vol. i c
 
 18 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' What's the row ? ' said another voice, as a 
 sturdy bright -eyed boy, between the ages of his 
 sisters, came bouncing in. ' I say, I want my grub 
 — and be quick ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, Herbert, my dear boy,' and his mother 
 hugged him, ' your uncle is a lord, and you'll be one 
 one of these days.' 
 
 ' I say, don't lug a man's head off. Who has 
 been making a fool of you ? ' 
 
 ' Uncle Frank is Lord Northmoor,' said Ida 
 impressively. 
 
 ' 1 say, that's a good one ! ' and Herbert threw 
 himself into a chair in fits of laughter. 
 
 ' It is quite true, Herbert,' said his mother. 
 ' Here is the letter.' 
 
 A bell rang sharply. 
 
 ' Bless me ! I shall not hear much more of that 
 bell, I hope. Run up, Conny, and say Mrs. Leeson's 
 lunch will be up in a moment, but we were hindered
 
 ii HONOURS REFLECTED 19 
 
 by unexpected news/ said Mrs. Morton, bustling into 
 the kitchen. ' Oh dear ! one doesn't know where 
 one is.' 
 
 ' Let her ring,' said Ida. ' Send her off, bag and 
 baggage ! We've done with lodgings and milliners 
 and telegraphs, and all that's low. We shall all be 
 lords and ladies, and ever so rich.' 
 
 ' Hold hard ! ' said Herbert, who had got 
 possession of the letter. ' He doesn't say so.' 
 
 ' He'll be nasty and mean, I daresay,' said Ida. 
 ' What does he say ? I hadn't time to see.' 
 
 Herbert read from the neat, formal, distinct 
 writing : ' " I do not yet know what is in my power, 
 nor what means I may be able to command ; but I 
 hope to make your position more comfortable and 
 to give my nephew and nieces a really superior 
 education. You had better, however, not take any 
 steps till you hear from me again." There, Ida, 
 lots of schooling, that's all.'
 
 20 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' Nonsense, Bertie ; he must — if he is a lord, 
 what are we ? ' 
 
 Hunger postponed this great question for a little 
 while ; but dinner had been delayed till the after- 
 noon school hour had passed, and indeed the young 
 people agreed that they were far above going to 
 their present teachers any more. 
 
 'We must acquire a few accomplishments,' said 
 Ida. ' Uncle never would afford me lessons on the 
 piano — such a shame ; but he can't refuse me now. 
 Dancing lessons, too, we will have; and then, oh, 
 Conny ! we will go to Court, and how they will 
 admire us ! ' 
 
 At which Herbert burst out laughing loudly, and 
 his mother rebuked him. ' You will be a nobleman, 
 Herbert, and your sisters a nobleman's sisters. Why 
 should they not go to Court like the best of them ? ' 
 
 ' That's all my eye!' said Herbert. 'The governor 
 has got a young woman of his own, hasn't he ? '
 
 II HONOURS REFLECTED 21 
 
 ' That dowdy old teacher ! ' said Ida. ' Of course 
 he won't many her now.' 
 
 ' She will be artful enough to try to hold him to 
 it, you may depend on it,' said Mrs. Morton ; ' but I 
 shall take care he knows what a shame and disgrace 
 it would be. Oh no ; he will not dare.' 
 
 ' She is awfully old,' said Ida. 
 
 ' Not near so old as Miss Pottle, who was married 
 yesterday,' said Constance, who, at the time of her 
 father's death, and at other times when the pre- 
 sence of a young child was felt to be incon- 
 venient at home, had stayed with her grand- 
 mother at Hurminster, and had grown fond of 
 Miss Marshall. 
 
 ' Don't talk about what you know nothing about, 
 Constance,' broke in her mother. ' Your uncle, Lord 
 Northmoor. ain't going to lower and demean himself 
 by dragging a mere school teacher up into the peer- 
 age, to cut out poor Herbert and all his family.
 
 22 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 There's that bell again ! I shall go and let Mrs. 
 Leeson know how we are situated, and that I shall 
 give her notice one of these days. Clear the table, 
 girls ; we don't know who may be dropping in.' 
 
 This clone, chiefly by Constance, the sisters put 
 on their hats, and sallied forth with their astounding 
 news to such of their friends as were within reach, 
 and by the time they had finished their expedition 
 they were convinced of their own nobility, and 
 prepared to be called Lady Ida and Lady Constance 
 Northmoor on the spot. 
 
 When they came in they found the parlour 
 being prepared for company, and were sent to pro- 
 cure sausages and muffins for tea. Mrs. Morton 
 had, on reflection, decided that it was inexpedient 
 to answer her brother-in-law till she had ascertained, 
 as she said, her just rights, and she had invited to 
 tea Mr. and Mrs. Eollstone and, to Constance's 
 delight, bis little daughter Eose, their neighbours a
 
 ii HONOURS REFLECTED 23 
 
 few doors off; but as Eose was attending classes, it 
 had been useless to go to her before. 
 
 Mr. Eollstone was a great authority, for he had 
 spent the best part of his life in what he termed the 
 first families of the highest circles. He had been 
 hall boy to a duke, footman to a viscountess, valet 
 to an earl, butler to a right honourable baronet, 
 M.P., and when he had retired on the death of the 
 baronet and marriage with the housekeeper he had 
 brought away a red volume, by name Burke's Peer- 
 age, by which, as well as by his previous know- 
 ledge, he was enabled to serve as an oracle respect- 
 ing all owners of yachts worthy of consideration. 
 If their names were not recorded in that book, he 
 scorned them as ' parvenoosj however perfect their 
 vessels might be in the eyes of mariners. The 
 edition was indeed a quarter of a century old, but 
 he had kept it up to date, by marking in neatly all 
 the births, deaths, and marriages from the Gazette —
 
 24 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 his daily study. His daughter, a nice, modest-looking 
 girl of fourteen, Constance's chief friend, came too. 
 
 His wife was detained by her lodgers, but when 
 he rolled in, with the book under Ins arm, there 
 was a certain resemblance between himself and it, 
 for both were broad and slightly dilapidated — the 
 one from gout, the other from wear, and the red 
 cover had faded into a nondescript whity- brown, 
 or browny- white, not unlike the complexion of a 
 close-shaven face. He was carefully arrayed in 
 evening costume, and was very choice in his lan- 
 guage, being, in fact, much grander than all his 
 aristocratic masters rolled into one ; so that though 
 Mrs. Morton tried to recollect that she was a great 
 lady and he had been a servant, force of habit made 
 her feel his condescension when he held out his 
 puffy white hand ; and, with a gracious bend of his 
 yellow-gray head, said, ' Allow me to offer my con- 
 gratulations, Mrs. Morton. I little suspected my
 
 li HONOUES REFLECTED 25 
 
 proximity to a lady so nearly allied to the aristo- 
 cracy.' 
 
 ' I am sure you are very kind, Mr. Eollstone. 
 I had no notion — Ida can tell you I was quite over- 
 come — though when I came to think of it, my poor, 
 dear Morton always did say he had high connec- 
 tions, but I always thought it was one of his jokes.' 
 
 ' Then as I understand, Mrs. Morton, the lamented 
 deceased was junior to the present Lord Northmoor ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, poor dear ! Oh, if he had but lived and 
 been eldest, he would have become his honours ever 
 so much better ! ' 
 
 ' Aud oh, Mr. Eollstone, what are we ? ' put in 
 Ida breathlessly, while Eose squeezed Constance's 
 hand in schoolgirl fashion. 
 
 ' Indeed, Miss Ida, I fear I cannot flatter you 
 with any change in your designation. If your 
 respected parent had survived he might have become 
 the Honourable Charles, but only by special grant
 
 26 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 from Her Majesty. It was so in the case of the 
 Honourable Frances Fordingham, when her brother 
 inherited the title.' 
 
 ' Then at least I am an Honourable ! ' exclaimed 
 Mrs. Morton. 
 
 ' I am afraid not, Mrs. Morton. I know of no 
 precedent for such honours being bestowed on a 
 relict ; but as I understand that Lord Northmoor is 
 no longer in his first youth, your son might succeed 
 to the title, and, in that case, his sisters might be ' 
 — he paused for a word — ' ennobled.' 
 
 ' Then does not it really make any difference to 
 us ? ' exclaimed Mrs. Morton. 
 
 ' That would rest in the bosom of his lordship,' 
 said Mr. liollstone solemnly. 
 
 ' I declare it is an awful shame,' burst out Ida, 
 while Constance cooed 'Dear uncle!' 
 
 'Hush, hush, Ida!' said her mother. ' Your 
 uncle has always treated us handsomely, and we
 
 II HOXOURS REFLECTED 27 
 
 have every reason to expect that he will continue 
 to do so.' 
 
 ' He ought to have us to live with him in his 
 house in London, and take us to Court,' said Ida. 
 ' Oh, Mr. Eollstone, is he not bound to do that ? ' 
 
 And Constance breathed, ' How delicious ! ' 
 
 Mr. Eollstone perhaps had his doubts of the 
 figures Mrs. and Miss Morton would cut in society, 
 but he contented himself with saying, ' It may be 
 well to moderate your expectations, Miss Ida, and 
 to remember that Lord Northmoor is not compul- 
 sorily bound to consult any interests but his own.' 
 
 ' If he does not, it is perfectly abominable,' cried 
 Mrs. Morton, ' towards his poor, only brother's 
 children, with Herbert his next heir-apparent.' 
 
 ' Heir - presumptuous,' solemnly corrected Mr. 
 Eollstone, at which Ida looked at Constance, but 
 Constance respected Eosie's feelings, and would not 
 return her sister's glance, only blushed, and sniggered.
 
 28 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 ' Heir-apparent is only the eldest son, who can- 
 not be displaced by any contingency.' 
 
 ' And there's a horrid, little, artful school teacher, 
 who drew him in years ago — before I was married 
 even.' said Mrs. Morton. ' No doubt she will try 
 to keep him now. Most likely she always knew 
 what was going to happen. Cannot he be set free 
 from the entanglement ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' gasped Constance. 
 
 ' That is serious,' observed Mr. Eollstone gravely. 
 ' It would be an unfortunate commencement to have 
 an action for breach of promise of marriage.' 
 
 ' She would never dare,' said Mrs. Morton. ' She 
 is as poor as a rat, and could not do it ! ' 
 
 ' Well, Mrs. Morton,' said Mr. Eollstone, ' if I 
 may be allowed to tender my poor advice, it would 
 be that you should be very cautious and careful not 
 to give any offence to his lordship, or to utter what 
 might be reported to him in a sinister manner.'
 
 ii HONOURS EEFLECTED 29 
 
 ' Oh, I know every one has enemies ! ' said Mrs. 
 Morton, tossing her head. 
 
 After this disappointment there was rather less 
 interest displayed when Mr. Eollstone proceeded to 
 track out and explain the whole ISTorthmoor pedi- 
 gree, from the great lawyer, Sir Michael Morton, 
 who had gained the peerage, down to the failure of 
 the direct line, tracing the son from whom Francis 
 and Charles Morton were descended. Certainly Miss 
 Marshall must have been wonderfully foresighted if 
 she had engaged herself with a view to the succes- 
 sion, for at the time it began, the last Lord North- 
 moor had two sons and a brother living ! There was 
 also a daughter, the Honourable Bertha Augusta. 
 
 ' Is she married ? ' demanded Mrs. Morton. 
 
 ' It is not marked here, and if it had been men- 
 tioned in the papers, I should not have failed to 
 record it.' 
 
 ' And how old is she ? '
 
 30 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 'The author of this peerage would never be 
 guilty of the solecism of recording a lady's age,' 
 said Mr. Kollstone gravely ; ' but as the Honourable 
 Arthur was born in 1848, and the Honourable 
 Michael in 1850, we may infer that the young lady 
 is no longer in her first youth.' 
 
 ' And not married ? Nearly Fr Lord North- 
 moor's ase. She must be an old cat who will set 
 her mind on marrying him,' sighed Mrs. Morton, 
 ' and will make him cut all his own relations.' 
 
 ' Then Mary Marshall might be the better look- 
 out,' said Ida. 
 
 ' She could never be unkind,' breathed little 
 Constance. 
 
 ' There is no knowing,' said Mr. liollstone ora- 
 cularly ; ' but the result of my observations has been 
 that the true high-bred aristocracy are usually far 
 more affable and condescending than those elevated 
 from a lower rank.'
 
 ii HONOURS REFLECTED 31 
 
 ' Oh, I do hope for Miss Marshall,' said Constance 
 in a whisper to Eose. 
 
 ' Nasty old thing — a horrid old governess,' re- 
 turned Ida ; and they tittered, scarcely pausing to 
 hear Mr. Eollstone's announcement of the discovery 
 that he had entered the marriage in 1879 of the 
 Honourable Arthur Michael to Lady Adela Emily, 
 only daughter of the Earl of Arlington, and the 
 death of the said Honourable Arthur by a carriage 
 accident four years later. 
 
 Then Herbert tumbled in, bringing a scent of tea 
 and tar, and was greeted with an imploring injunc- 
 tion to brush his hair and wash his hands — both 
 which operations he declared that he had performed, 
 spreading out his brown hands, which might be 
 called clean, except for ingrained streaks of tar. 
 Mr. Eollstone tried to console his mother by declar- 
 ing that it was aristocratic to know how to handle 
 the ropes ; and Herbert, sitting among the girls,
 
 32 THAT STICK CHAP, n 
 
 began, while devouring sausages, to express his 
 intention of having a yacht, in which Kose should 
 be taken on a voyage. No, not Ida; she would 
 only make a fool of herself on board ; and besides, 
 she had such horrid sticking-out ears, with a pull at 
 them, which made her scream,- and her mother 
 rebuke him ; while Mr. Eollstone observed that the 
 vouns gentleman had much to learn if he was to con- 
 form to aristocratic manners, and Herbert under his 
 breath hung aristocratic manners, and added that he 
 was not to be bored, at any rate, till he was a lord ; 
 and then to salve any shock to his visitor, proceeded 
 to say that his yacht should be the Rose, and invite 
 her to a voyage. 
 
 ' Certainly not till you can behave yourself,' 
 replied Rose ; and there was a general titter among 
 the young people.
 
 CHAPTEE III 
 
 WHAT IS HONOUR ? 
 
 ' Here is a bit of news for you,' said Sir Edward 
 Kenton, as, after a morning of work with his agent, 
 both came in to the family luncheon. ' Mr. Burford 
 tells me that the Northmoor title has descended on 
 his agent, Morton.' 
 
 ' That stick ! ' exclaimed George, the son and heir. 
 
 'Not altogether a stick, Mr. Kenton,' said the 
 bald-headed gentlemanly agent. ' He is very worthy 
 and industrious ! ' 
 
 Frederica Kenton and her brother looked at each 
 
 other as if this character were not inconsistent with 
 
 that of a stick. 
 
 VOL. i D
 
 34 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 ' Poor man ! ' said their mother. ' Is it not a 
 great misfortune to him ? ' 
 
 ' I should think him sensible and methodical,' 
 said Sir Edward. ' By the way, did you not tell 
 me that it was his diligence that discovered the 
 clause to which our success was owing in the 
 Stockpen suit ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, Sir Edward, through his indefatigable 
 diligence in reading over every document connected 
 with the matter. I take shame to myself,' he added, 
 smiling, ' for it was in a letter that I had read and 
 put aside, missing that passage.' 
 
 ' Then I am under great obligations to him ? ' 
 said Sir Edward. 
 
 'I could also tell of what only came to my 
 knowledge many years later, and not through him- 
 self, of attempts made to tamper with his integrity, 
 and gain private information from him which he 
 had steadily bafHed.'
 
 in WHAT IS HONOUR ? 35 
 
 ' There must be much in him,' said Lady Kenton, 
 ' if only he is not spoilt ! ' 
 
 ' I am afraid he is heavily weighted,' said Mr. 
 Burford. 'His brother's widow and children are 
 almost entirely dependent on him, more so, in my 
 opinion, than he should have allowed.' 
 
 ' Exactly what I should expect from such a 
 sheep,' said George Kenton. 
 
 ' There is this advantage,' said the lawyer, ' it has 
 prevented his marrying.' 
 
 ' At least that fatal step has been averted,' said 
 the lady, smiling. 
 
 ' But unluckily there is an entanglement, an 
 endless engagement to a governess at Miss Lang's.' 
 
 ' Oh,' cried Freda, who once, during a long 
 absence of the family abroad, had been disposed of 
 at Miss Lang's, ' there was always a kind of whisper 
 among us that Miss Marshall was engaged, though 
 it was high treason to be supposed to know.'
 
 36 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 * Was that the one you called Creepmouse ? ' 
 asked her brother. 
 
 ' George, you should not bring up old misdeeds ! 
 She was a harmless old thing. I believe the tinies 
 were very fond of her, but we elders had not much 
 to do with her, only we used to think her horridly 
 particular.' 
 
 ' Does that mean conscientious ? ' asked her 
 father. 
 
 ' Perhaps it does ; and though I was rather a 
 goose then, I really believe she was very kind, and 
 did not want to be tiresome.' 
 
 ' A lady ? ' asked her mother. 
 
 ' I suppose so, but she was so awfully quiet 
 there was no knowing.' 
 
 ' Poor thing ! ' observed Lady Kenton, in a tone 
 of commiseration. 
 
 ' I think Morton told me that she was a clergy- 
 orphan,' said Mr. Burford, ' and considered her as
 
 in WHAT IS HONOUR ? 37 
 
 rather above him, for his father was a ruined farmer 
 and horse-breeder, and I only took him into my 
 office out of respect for his mother, though I never 
 had a better bargain in my life. Of course, however, 
 this unlucky engagement cannot stand.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' said the Baronet drily. ' Would you 
 have him begin his career with an act of baseness?' 
 
 'No — no, Sir Edward, I did not mean ' 
 
 said Mr. Burford, rather abashed ; ' but the lady 
 might be worked on to resign her pretensions, since 
 persistence might not be for the happiness of either 
 party ; and he really ought to marry a lady of for- 
 tune, say his cousin, Miss Morton, for I understand 
 that the Northnioor property was never considerable. 
 The late Mr. Morton was very extravagant, and 
 there are heavy burthens on the estate, by the 
 settlement on his widow, Lady Adela, and on the 
 late Lord's daughter. Miss Lang tells me likewise 
 that Miss Marshall is full of doubts and scruples,
 
 38 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 and is almost persuaded that it is incumbent on her 
 to drop the engagement at any cost to herself. She 
 is very conscientious ! ' 
 
 ' Poor thing ! : sighed more than one voice. 
 
 ' It is a serious question,' continued the solicitor, 
 ' and I own that I think it would be better for both 
 if she were induced to release him.' 
 
 ' Has she no relations of her own ? ' 
 
 'None that I ever heard of. She has always 
 spent her holidays at Miss Lang's.' 
 
 1 Well, Mr. Burford,' exclaimed Freda, ' I think 
 you are frightfully cruel to my poor little Creep- 
 mouse.' 
 
 'Nay, Freda,' said her mother; 'all that Mr. 
 Burford is considering is whether it would be for 
 the happiness or welfare of either to be raised to a 
 position for which she is not prepared.' 
 
 ' I thought you were on her side, mother.' 
 
 ' There are no sides, Freda,' said her father
 
 Ill WHAT IS HONOUR ? 39 
 
 reprovingly. 'The whole must rest with the 
 persons chiefly concerned, and no one ought to 
 interfere or influence them in either direction.' 
 Having thus rebuked Mr. Burford quite as much 
 as his daughter, he added, ' Where is Lord North- 
 moor now ? ' 
 
 ' He wrote to me from Northmoor after the 
 funeral, Sir Edward, saying that he would return on 
 Saturday. Of course, though three months' notice 
 would be due, I should not expect it, as I told him 
 at first ; but he assures me that he will not leave 
 me till my arrangements for supplying his place are 
 complete, and he will assist me as usual.' 
 
 ' It is very proper of him,' said Sir Edward. 
 
 f It will be awkward in some ways,' said Mr. 
 Burford. ' Yet I do not know what I could other- 
 wise have done, he had become so necessary 
 to me.' 
 
 'Stick or no stick,' was the family comment of
 
 40 THAT STICK chap, hi 
 
 the Kentons, ' there must be something in the man, 
 if only his head is not turned.' 
 
 { Which,' observed Sir Edward, ' is not possible 
 to a stick with a real head, but only too easy to a 
 sham one.'
 
 CHAPTEE IV 
 
 HONOURS WANING 
 
 'And who is the man?' So asked a lady in deep 
 mourning of another still more becraped, as they 
 sat together in the darkened room of a Northmoor 
 house on the day before the funeral. 
 
 The speaker had her bonnet by her side, and 
 showed a kindly, clever, middle-aged face. She was 
 Mrs. Bury, a widow, niece of the late Lord; the 
 other was his daughter, Bertha Morton, a few years 
 younger. She was not tearful, but had dark rings 
 round her eyes, and looked haggard and worn. 
 
 ' The man ? I never heard of him till this terrible 
 loss of poor little Mikey.'
 
 42 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 ' Then did he put in a claim ? ' 
 ' Oh no, but Hailes knew about him, and so, 
 indeed, did my father. It seems that three genera- 
 tions ago there was a son who followed the instincts 
 of our race further than usual, and married a jockey's 
 daughter, or something of that sort. He was set 
 up in a horse-breeding farm and cut the connection ; 
 but it seems that there was always a sort of com- 
 munication of family events, so that Hailes knew 
 exactly where to look for an heir.' 
 
 ' Not a jockey ! ' 
 
 ' Oh no, nothing so diverting. That would be 
 fun !' Bertha said, with a laugh that had no merri- 
 ment in it. ' He is a clerk — an attorney's clerk ! 
 What do you think of that, Lettice ? ' 
 
 ' Better than the jockey.' 
 
 ' Oh, very respectable, they say ' — with a sound 
 of disgust. 
 
 ' Is he young ? '
 
 iv HONOURS WANING 43 
 
 * No ; caught early, something might be done with 
 him, but there's not that hope. He is not much 
 less than forty. Fancy a creature that has petti- 
 fogged, as an underling too, all his life.' 
 
 ' Married ? ' 
 
 ' Thank goodness, no, and all the mammas in 
 London and in the country will be running after 
 him. Not that he will be any great catch, for of 
 course he has nothing — and the poor place will be 
 brought to a low ebb.' 
 
 ' And what do you mean to do, Birdie ? ' 
 
 ' Get out of sight of it all as fast as possible ! 
 Forget that horses ever existed except as means of 
 locomotion,' and Bertha got up and walked towards 
 the window as if restless with pain, then came back. 
 ' I shall get rid of all I can — and come to live as 
 near as I can to Whitechapel, and slum ! I'm free 
 now.' Then looking at her cousin's sorrowful, 
 wistful face, ' Work, work, work, that's all that's
 
 44 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 good for me. Soberly, Lettice, this is my plan/ she 
 added, sitting down again. ' I know how it all is 
 left. This new man is to have enough to go on 
 upon, so as not to be too beggarly and bring the 
 title into contempt. He is only coming for to- 
 morrow, having to wind up his business ; but I shall 
 stay on till he comes back, and settle what to do 
 with the things here. Adela and I have our choice 
 of them, and don't want to leave the place too bare. 
 Then I shall sell the London house, and all the rest 
 of the encumbrances, and set up for myself.' 
 
 ' Not with Adela ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no ; Adela means to stick by the old place, 
 and I couldn't do that for a constancy — oh no,' 
 with a shudder. 
 
 ' Does she ? ' in some wonder. 
 
 ' Her own people don't want her. The Arlingtons 
 are with her now, but I fancy she would rather be 
 sitting with us — or alone best of all, poor dear.
 
 iv HONOUKS WANING 45 
 
 You see, she is a mixture of the angel that is too 
 much for some people. How she got it I don't 
 know, not among us, I should think, though she 
 came to us straight out of the schoolroom, or I fancy 
 she would never have come at all. But oh, Lettice, 
 if you could have seen her how patient she has been 
 throughout with my father, reading him all about 
 every race, just because she thought it was less gall 
 and wormwood to her than to me, and going out to 
 the stables to satisfy him about his dear Night 
 Hawk, and all the rest of it. When she was away 
 for that fortnight over poor little Michael, I found 
 to the full what she had been, and then after that, 
 back she comes again, as white as a sheet, but all 
 she ever was to my father, and more wonderful than 
 all, setting herself to reconcile him to the notion of 
 this new heir of his — and I do believe, if my father 
 had not so suddenly grown worse, she would have 
 made us have him up to be introduced — all out of
 
 46 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 rectitude and duty, you know, for Adela is the 
 shyest of mortals, and recoils by nature from the 
 underbred far more than we do. In fact, I rather 
 like it. It gives me a sensation. I had ten times 
 rather this man were a common sailor, or a tinker, 
 than just a stupid stick of a clerk ! ' 
 
 ' Then Adela means to stay at the Dower House ? ' 
 ' Yes, she has rooted herself there by all her love 
 to her poor people, and I fancy, too, that she does 
 not want to bring Amice up among all the Arling- 
 ton children, who are not after her pattern, so she 
 intends to bear the brunt of it, aud not leave 
 Northmoor, unless the new-comers turn out un- 
 bearable.' 
 
 ' She goes away with her brother now.' 
 ' Oh yes, she must, and Lord Arlington is fond 
 of her in a way ! Can't you stay on with me, 
 Lettice ? ' 
 
 ' I wish I could, my dear Birdie, but I am
 
 IV HONOURS WANING 47 
 
 anxious about Mary ; I don't think I must stay 
 later than Sunday.' 
 
 ' Yes ; you are too devoted a mother for me to 
 absorb. Never mind, you will be in London, and I 
 shall soon be within reach of you. You are a 
 comfortable person, Lettice.'
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE PEER 
 
 Poor Miss Lang ! After all her care that her young 
 pupils' heads should not be turned by folly about 
 marriage and noblemen, the very event she had 
 always viewed as most absurdly improbable had 
 really occurred, and it was impossible to keep it a 
 secret ; though Miss Marshall did her very best to 
 appear as usual, heard lessons with her accustomed 
 diligence, conducted the daily exercises, watched 
 over the instructions by masters, and presided over 
 the needlework. But she grew whiter, more pinched, 
 and her little face more mouse-like every day, and 
 the elder girls whispered fancies about her. ' She
 
 chap, v THE PEER 49 
 
 had no doubt heard that Lord Northmoor had 
 broken it off ! ' — ' A little poky attorney's clerk, of 
 course he would.' — ' Poor dear thing, she will go 
 into a consumption ! Didn't you hear her cough 
 last night ? ' — £ And then we'll all throw wreaths 
 into her grave ! ' — ' Oh, that was only Elsie Harris ! ' — 
 'Nonsense, Mabel, I'm sure it was her, poor thing. 
 Prenez garde, la vieille Dragonne vient.' 
 
 That Lord Northmoor was to come back by the 
 mail train was known, and Miss Lang had sent a 
 polite note to invite him to afternoon tea on the Sunday. 
 The church to which he had been for many years 
 devoted was a district one, and Miss Lang's establish- 
 ment had their places in the old parish church, so 
 there was not much chance of meeting in the 
 morning, though one pupil observed to another that 
 ' she should think him a beast if they did not meet 
 him on the way to church.' 
 
 It is to be feared that she had to form this 
 VOL. I E
 
 50 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 opinion, but on the other hand, by the early dinner- 
 time, tidings pervaded the school that Lord North- 
 moor had been at St. Basil's, and sung in his surplice 
 just as if nothing had happened ! The more sensa- 
 tional party of girls further averred that he had 
 been base enough to walk thither with Miss Bur- 
 ford, and that Miss Marshall had been crying 
 all church time. Whether this was true or not, it 
 was certain that she ate scarcely any dinner, and 
 that Miss Lang insisted on administering a glass of 
 wine. 
 
 Moreover, when dinner was finally over, she 
 cpjietly crept up to her own room, and resumed her 
 church-going bonnet — a little black net, with a long- 
 enduring bunch of violets. Then she knelt down 
 and entreated, ' Oh, show me Thy will, and give me 
 strength and judgment to do that which may be 
 best for him, and may neither of us be beguiled by 
 the world or by ambition.'
 
 V THE PEER 51 
 
 Then she peeped out to make sure that the coast 
 was clear — not that she was not quite free to go 
 where she pleased, but she dreaded eyes and titters 
 — out at the door, to the corner of the lane where 
 for many a Sunday afternoon there had been a quiet 
 tryste and walk. Her heart beat so as almost to 
 choke her, and she hardly durst raise her eyes to 
 see if the accustomed figure awaited her. Was it 
 the accustomed figure ? Her eyes dazzled so under 
 her little holland parasol that she could hardly see, 
 and though there was a movement towards her, 
 she felt unable to look up till she heard the 
 words, ' Mary, at last ! ' and felt the clasp of the 
 hand. 
 
 ' Oh, Frank — I mean ' 
 
 ' You mean Frank, your own Frank ; nothing else 
 to you.' 
 
 ' Ought you ? ' And as she murmured she looked 
 up. It was the same, but still a certain change
 
 52 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 was there, almost indescribable, but still to be felt, 
 as if a line of toil and weariness had passed from 
 the cheek. The quiet gray eyes were brighter and 
 more eager, the bearing as if ten years had been 
 taken from the forty, and though Mary did not 
 perceive the details, the dress showing that his 
 mourning had not come from the country town 
 tailor and outfitter, even the soft hat a very different 
 article from that which was wont to replace the 
 well-cherished tall one of Sunday mornings. 
 
 ' I had not much time,' he said, ' but I thought this 
 would be of the most use,' and he began clasping on 
 her arm a gold bracelet with a tiny watch on it. 
 ' I thought you would like best to keep our old 
 
 ring. 
 
 ' If — if I ought to keep it at all,' she faltered. 
 'Now, Mary, I will not have an afternoon spoilt 
 by any folly of that sort,' he said. 
 
 ' Is it folly ? Nay, listen. Should you not get
 
 V THE PEER 53 
 
 on far far better without such a poor little stupid 
 thing as I am ? ' 
 
 ' I always thought I was the stupid one.' 
 
 • You — but you are a man.' 
 
 ' So much the worse ! ' 
 
 c Yes ; but, Frank, don't you see what I mean ? 
 This thing has come to you, and you can't help it, 
 and you are descended from these people really ; 
 but it would be choice for me, and I could not bear 
 to feel that you were ashamed of me.' 
 
 ' Never ! ' he exclaimed. ' Look here, Mary. 
 What should I do without you to come back to and 
 be at rest with ? All the time I was talking to 
 those ladies and going through those fine rooms, I 
 was thinking of the one comfort I should have when 
 I have you all to myself. See,' he added, going 
 over the arguments that he had no doubt prepared, 
 ' it is not as if you were like poor Emma. You are 
 a lady all over, and have always lived with ladies ;
 
 54 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 and yet you are not too grand for me. Think what 
 you would leave me to — to be wretched by myself, 
 
 or else I could never be at home with those 
 
 high-bred folk. I felt it every moment, though 
 Miss Morton was very kind, and even wanted me 
 to call her Birdie. I did feel thankful I could tell 
 her I was engaged.' 
 
 ' You did ! ' 
 
 ' Yes ; and she was very kind, and said she was 
 glad of it, and hoped soon to know you.' 
 
 ' Oh, Frank dear, I am sure no one ever was 
 more really noble -hearted than you,' she almost 
 sobbed ; ' you know how I shall always feel it ; but 
 yet, but yet I can't help thinking you ought to leave 
 it a little more unsettled till you have looked about 
 a little and seen whether I should be a very great 
 disadvantage to you.' 
 
 ' Seen whether I could find such a dear, unselfish 
 little woman, eh ? No, no, Mary, put all that out
 
 V THE PEER 55 
 
 of your head. We have not loved one another for 
 twenty years for a trumpery title to come between 
 us now ! And you need not fear being too well 
 off for the position. The agent, Hailes, has been 
 continually apologising to me for the smallness of 
 the means. He says either we must have no house 
 in London, or else let Northmoor. He cannot tell 
 me yet exactly what income we shall have, but the 
 farms don't let well, and there is not much ready 
 money.' 
 
 ' Every one says you ought to marry a lady of 
 fortune.' 
 
 ' My dear Mary, to what would you condemn me ? 
 What sort of lady of fortune do you think would 
 take an old stick like me for the sake of being my 
 Lady ? I really shall begin to believe you are tired 
 of it.' 
 
 ' Stick ! oh no, no. Staff, if ' — and the manner 
 in which she began to cling was answer full and
 
 56 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 complete ; indeed, as she saw that her resistance had 
 begun to hurt him as much as herself, she felt her- 
 self free to throw herself into the interests, and ask, 
 ' Is Northmoor a very nice place ? ' 
 
 'Not so pretty as Cotes Kenton outside. A 
 great white house, with a portico for carriages to 
 drive under, and not kept up very well, patches of 
 plaster coming off; but there is a beautiful view 
 over the woods, with a purple moor beyond.' 
 
 ' And inside ? ' 
 
 ' Well, rather dreary, waiting for you to make it 
 homelike. They have not lived there much for 
 some time past. Lady Adela has lived in the Dower 
 House, and will continue there.' 
 
 ' Did you see much of them ? ' 
 
 ' Not Lady Adela. Poor lady, she had her own 
 relations with her. She had not by any means 
 recovered the loss of her little boy, and 1 can quite 
 understand that it must have been too trying for
 
 V THE PEEE 57 
 
 her to see me in his place. I understand from 
 Hailes ' 
 
 ' Your Mr. Burford,' said Mary, smiling. 
 
 ' That she is a very refined, rather exclusive and 
 domestic lady, devoted to her little girl, and ex- 
 tremely kind to the poor. Indeed, so is Miss Morton, 
 but she prefers the London poor, and is altogether 
 rather flighty, and what Hailes calls an unconven- 
 tional young lady. There was a very nice lady 
 with her, Mrs. Bury, the daughter of a brother of 
 the late Lord, a widow, and very kind and friendly. 
 Both were very good-natured, Miss Morton always 
 acted hostess, and talked continually.' 
 
 ' About her father ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no, I do not think he had been a very 
 affectionate father, and their habits and tastes had 
 been very different. Lady Adela seems to have 
 latterly been more to him. Miss Morton was chiefly 
 concerned to advise me about politics and social
 
 58 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 questions, and how to deal with the estate and the 
 tenants.' 
 
 He seemed somewhat to shudder at the recollec- 
 tion, and Mary certainly conceived a dread of the 
 ladies of Northmoor. It was further elicited that 
 he meant to help Mr. Burford through all the work 
 and arrangements consequent on his own succession, 
 indeed, to remain at his post either till a successor 
 was found, or the junior sufficiently indoctrinated to 
 take the place. Of course, as he said, six months' 
 notice was due, but Mr. Burford has waived this. 
 During this time he meant to go to see ' poor Emma ' 
 at Westhaven, but it was not an expedition he 
 seemed much to relish, and he wished to tie for it till 
 he could definitely tell what it would be in his 
 power to do for her and her children, for whose 
 education he was really anxious, rejoicing that they 
 were still young enough to be moulded. 
 
 Then came the tea at Miss Lang's — a stately
 
 v THE PEEE 59 
 
 meal, when the two ladies were grand ; Lord North- 
 moor became shy and frozen, monosyllabic, and only 
 spasmodically able to utter ; and Mary felt it in all 
 her nerves and subsided into her smallest self, under 
 the sense that nobody ever would do him justice.
 
 CHAPTEE VI 
 
 THE WEIGHT OF HONOURS 
 
 The next was a fortnight of strange and new ex- 
 periences. Lord Northmoor spent most of his days 
 over the papers in the office, so much his usual self, 
 that Mr. Burford generally forgot, and called to him 
 as 'Morton' so naturally that after the first the 
 other clerks left off sniggering. 
 
 There Sir Edward called on him, and in an 
 interview in his sitting-room at the office asked him 
 to a quiet dinner, together with the solicitor ; but 
 this was hardly a success, for Mr. Burford, being at 
 home with the family, did all the talking, and Frank 
 could not but feel in the presence of his master, and
 
 CHAP. VI THE WEIGHT OF HONOUES 61 
 
 bad not a word to say for himself, especially as 
 George and Freda looked critical, and as if ' That 
 stick ' was in their minds, if not on their lips. The 
 only time when he approached a thaw was when in 
 the hot summer evening Lady Kenton made him 
 her companion in a twilight stroll on the terraces, 
 when he looked at the roses with delight, and 
 volunteered a question about the best sorts, saying 
 that the garden at Northrnoor had been much 
 neglected, and he wanted to have it in good order, 
 ' that is ' — blushing and correcting himself — ' if we 
 can live there.' 
 
 Lady Kenton noted the 'we' and was sorry 
 to be here interrupted. ' We shall do nothing with 
 him till we get him alone,' she said. 'We must 
 have him apart from Mr. Burford.' 
 
 Before this, however, they had to meet him at a 
 very splendid party, given with all the resources of 
 the Burford family at their villa, when the county
 
 62 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 folks, who had no small curiosity to see the new 
 peer, were invited in full force, and the poor peer 
 felt capable of fewer words than ever to throw at 
 them. 
 
 Lady Kenton ventured on asking Mrs. Burford 
 to introduce her to Miss Marshall, taking such 
 presence for granted. 
 
 ' Oh, Lady Kenton, really now I did not think 
 that foolish affair should be - encouraged. It is such 
 an unfortunate thing for him ; and as Miss Lang and 
 I agreed, it would be so much better for both of 
 them if it were given up.' 
 
 ' Is there anything against her ? ' 
 
 ' Oil no, not at all ; only that, poor thing, she is 
 quite unfitted for the position, and between our- 
 selves, in the condition of the property, it is really 
 incumbent on his Lordship to marry a lady of for- 
 tune. At his age he cannot afford romance,' she 
 added with a laugh, being in fact rather inferior to
 
 vi THE WEIGHT OF HONOURS 63 
 
 her husband in tone, or perhaps in manners. Indeed, 
 she was of all others the person who most shrivelled 
 up the man whom she had always treated like a 
 poor dependent, till her politeness became still more 
 embarrassing. Among all the party, Sir Edward 
 and Lady Kenton were those with whom he was 
 most nearly at ease, for they had nothing to revoke 
 in their manners towards him, and could, without 
 any change, treat him as an equal whom they 
 respected; nor did they try to force him forward 
 into general conversation — as did his host — with 
 the best intentions. 
 
 Lady Kenton, under cover of Miss Burford's 
 piano, asked him whether she might call on Miss 
 Marshall, and saw him flush with gratitude and 
 pleasure, as he answered, ' It will be very kind in 
 you.' 
 
 Lady Kenton knew enough of the ways of the 
 school to understand when to make her visit, so as
 
 64 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 to have a previous conversation with Miss Lang, 
 whom of course she already knew. That lady 
 received her in one of the drawing-rooms, the 
 folding doors into the other were shut. 
 
 ' I have told Miss Marshall/ said Miss Lang, 
 ' that the room is always at her service to receive 
 Lord JSTorthmoor, though, in fact, he never comes 
 till after business hours.' 
 
 ' He is behaving very well.' 
 
 ' Very honourably indeed ; but poor Miss Marshall 
 is in a very distressing position.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! Is she not very happy in his con- 
 stancy ? ' 
 
 ' She is in great doubt and ditliculty,' said Miss 
 Lang, 'and we really hardly know how to advise 
 her. She seems sure of his affection, but she 
 shrinks from entering on a position for which 
 she is so unfit.' 
 
 ' Is she really unfit ? '
 
 VI THE WEIGHT OF HONOURS 65 
 
 Miss Lang hesitated. ' She is a complete lady, 
 and as good and conscientious a creature as ever 
 existed ; but you see, Lady Kenton, her whole life 
 has been spent here, ever since she was sixteen, she 
 has known nothing beyond the schoolroom, and how 
 she is ever to fulfil the duties of a peeress, and the 
 head of a large establishment, I really cannot see. 
 It might be just misery to her, and to him, too.' 
 
 ' Has she good sense ? ' 
 
 'Yes, very fair sense. We can trust to her 
 judgment implicitly in dealing with the girls; and 
 she teaches well, but she is not at all clever, and 
 could never shine.' 
 
 ' Perhaps a person who wanted to shine might 
 be embarrassing,' said Lady Kenton, rather amused. 
 
 ' Well, it might be so. The poor man is certainly 
 
 no star himself, but surely he needs some one who 
 
 would draw him out, and push him forward, make a 
 
 way in society, in fact.' 
 
 VOL. I f
 
 66 THAT. STICK CHAP. 
 
 ' That might not be for his domestic happi- 
 
 ness.' 
 
 'Perhaps not, but your Ladyship has not seen 
 what a poor little insignificant creature she is — 
 though, indeed, we are both very fond of her, and 
 should be very much relieved not to think we ought 
 to strengthen her scruples. For, indeed,' and tears 
 actually came into the good lady's eyes, ' I am sure 
 that though she would release him for his good, that 
 it would break her heart. Shall I call her ? Ah ! ' 
 as a voice began to become very audible on the 
 other side of the doors, ' she has a visitor.' 
 
 'Not Lord Northmoor. It is a woman's voice, 
 and a loud one.' 
 
 Presently, indeed, there was a tone that made 
 Lady Kenton say, ' People do scent things very fast. 
 It must be some one wanting to apply for patronage.' 
 
 'I am a little afraid it is that sister-in-law of 
 his,' said Miss Lang, lowering her voice. ' I saw
 
 VI THE WEIGHT OF HONOURS 67 
 
 her once at the choral festival — and — and I wasn't 
 delighted.' 
 
 ' Perhaps I had better come another day,' said 
 Lady Kenton. ' We seem to be almost listening.' 
 
 Even as the lady was taking her leave, the 
 words were plainly heard — 
 
 ' Artful, mean-spirited, time-serving viper as you 
 are, bent on dragging him down to destruction ! '
 
 CHAPTEE VII 
 
 MORTONS AND MANNERS 
 
 ' Shillyshally/ quoth Mrs. Charles Morton over her 
 brother-in-law's letter. ' Does he think a mother is 
 to be put off like that ? ' 
 
 So she arrayed herself in panoply of glittering- 
 jet and nodding plumes, and set forth by train to 
 Hurminster to assert her rights, and those of her 
 children, armed with a black sunshade, and three 
 pocket-handkerchiefs. She did not usually wear 
 mourning, but this was an assertion of her 
 nobility. 
 
 In his sitting-room, wearing his old office coat, 
 pale, wearied, and worried, the Frank Morten, 'who
 
 CHAP. VII MORTONS AND MANNERS 69 
 
 could be turned round the finger of any one who 
 knew how/ appeared at her summons. 
 
 She met him with an effusive kiss of congratula- 
 tion. ' Dearest Frank ! No, I must not say Frank ! 
 I could hardly believe my eyes when I read the news.' 
 
 ' Nor I,' said he. 
 
 ' Nor the dear children. Oh, if your dear 
 brother were only here ! We are longing to hear 
 all about it,' she said, as she settled herself in the 
 arm-chair, a relic of his mother. 
 
 He repeated what he had told Mary about the 
 family, the Park, and the London house. 
 
 ' I suppose there is a fine establishment of ser- 
 vants and carriages ? ' 
 
 ' The servants are to be paid off. As to the 
 carriages and the rest of the personal property, they 
 go to Miss Morton ; but the executors are arrang- 
 ing about my paying for such furniture as I shall 
 want.'
 
 70 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' And jewels ? ' 
 
 ' There are some heirlooms, but I have not seen 
 them. How are the children ? ' 
 
 ' Very well ; very much delighted. Dear Herbert 
 is the noblest boy. He was ready to begin on his 
 navigation studies this next term, but of course there 
 is no occasion for that now.' 
 
 ' It is a pity, with his taste for the sea, that he 
 is too old to be a naval cadet.' 
 
 'The army is a gentleman's profession, if he 
 must have one.' 
 
 ' I must consider what is best for him.' 
 
 ' Yes, my Lord,' impressively. ' I am hoping to 
 know what you mean to do for your dear brother's 
 dear orphans,' and her handkerchief went up to her 
 eyes. 
 
 ' I hope at any rate to give Herbert the education 
 of a gentleman, and to send his sisters to good 
 schools. How are they getting on ? '
 
 VII MORTONS AND MANNERS 71 
 
 'Dear Ida, she is that clever and superior that a 
 master in music and French is all she would want. 
 Besides, you know, she is that delicate. Connie is 
 the bookish one ; she is so eager about the examina- 
 tion that she will go on at her school ; though I 
 would have taken her away from such a low place 
 at once.' 
 
 ' It is a good school, and will have given her a 
 good foundation. I must see what may be best for 
 them.' 
 
 ' And, of course, you will put us in a situation 
 becoming the family of your dear brother,' she 
 added, with another application of the hand- 
 kerchief. 
 
 ' I mean to do what I can, you may be sure, but 
 at present it is impossible to name any amount. I 
 neither know what income is coming to me, nor 
 what will be my expenses. I meant to come and 
 see you as soon as there was anything explicit to
 
 72 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 tell you ; but of course this first year there will be 
 much less in hand than later.' 
 
 ' Well/ she said, pouting, ' I can put up with 
 something less in the meantime, for of course your 
 poor dear brother's widow and children are your 
 first consideration, and even a nobleman as a bachelor 
 cannot have so many expenses.' 
 
 ' I shall not long continue a bachelor,' was the 
 answer, given with a sort of shy resolution. 
 
 ' Now, Lord Northmoor ! You don't mean to say 
 that you intend to go on with that ridiculous affair; 
 when, if you marry at all, it ought to be one who 
 will bring something handsome into the family.' 
 
 ' Once for all, Emma, I will hear no more on 
 that subject. A twenty years' engagement is not 
 lightly to be broken.' 
 
 ' A wretched little teacher,' she began, but she 
 was cut short. 
 
 ' Remember, I will hear no more of this, and '
 
 vii MORTONS AND MANNERS 73 
 
 (nothing but despair of other means could have 
 inspired him) ' it is for your own interest to abstain 
 from insulting my future wife and myself by such 
 remonstrances.' 
 
 Even then she muttered, ' Very hard ! Not even 
 good-looking.' 
 
 ' That is as one may think,' said he, mentally 
 contrasting the flaunting, hardened complexion be- 
 fore him with the sweet countenance he had never 
 perceived to be pinched or faded; and as he heard 
 something between a scornful sniff and a sob, he 
 added, ' I am wanted in the office, so, if you have 
 no more to say of any consequence, I must leave 
 you, and Hannah shall give you some tea.' 
 
 ' Oh, oh, that you should leave your poor 
 brother's widow in this way ! ' and she melted into 
 tears and sobs. 
 
 ' I can't help it, Emma,' he said, distressed and 
 perplexed. ' They want me about some business
 
 74 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 of Mr. Claughton's, and I can't keep them waiting. 
 These are office hours, you know. Have some tea, 
 and I will come to you again.' 
 
 But Mrs. Emma swallowed her sobs as soon as 
 he was gone, and instead of waiting for the tea, set 
 forth for Miss Lang's. On asking for Miss Marshall 
 she was shown into the drawing-room, where, after 
 she had waited a few minutes, nursing her wrath to 
 keep it warm, the small figure appeared, whom she 
 had no hesitation in accosting thus — 
 
 ' Now, Miss Marshall, do I understand that you 
 are resolved to attempt thrusting yourself on his 
 Lordship, Lord Northmoor's family ? ' 
 
 Mary, entirely taken by surprise, could only 
 falter, ' I can only do whatever he wishes.' 
 
 ' That is just a mere pretence. I wonder you 
 are not ashamed to play on his honourable feel- 
 ings, when you know everything is changed, and 
 that it is absolutely ridiculous and derogatory for
 
 vii MOKTONS AND MANNERS 75 
 
 a peer of the realm to stoop to a mere drudge of a 
 teacher.' 
 
 ' It is,' owned Mary ; but she went back to her 
 formulary, ' it must be as he wishes.' 
 
 ' If he is infatuated enough to pretend to wish 
 it, I tell you it is your simple duty to refuse him.' 
 
 Whatever might be Mary's own views of her 
 duty, to have it inculcated in such a manner 
 stirred her whole soul into opposition, which was 
 shown, not in words, but in a tiny curve of the lips, 
 such as infuriated her visitor, so that vulgarity and 
 violence were under no restraint, and whether all 
 self-command was lost in passion, or whether there 
 was an idea that bullying might gain, the day, Mrs. 
 Morton's voice rose into a shrill scream as she 
 denounced the nasty, mean-spirited viper, worming 
 herself 
 
 The folding doors suddenly opened and in a 
 dignified tone Miss Lang announced, ' Lady
 
 76 THAT STICK chai\ 
 
 Kenton wishes to be introduced to you, Miss 
 Marshall.' 
 
 Mary made her little formal bend as well as her 
 trembling limbs would allow her. Her cheeks were 
 hot, her eyes swam, her hand shook as Lady Kenton 
 took it kindly, while Mrs. Morton, too strong in her 
 own convictions to perceive how the land lay, 
 exclaimed, ' Your Ladyship is come for the same 
 purpose as me, to let Miss Marshall know how 
 detrimental and improper it is in her to persist 
 in holding my brother, Lord Northmoor, to the 
 unfortunate engagement she inveigled him into.' 
 
 To utter this with moderate coolness cost such 
 an effort that she thought Mr. Eollstone could not 
 have done it better, and was astonished when Lady 
 Kenton replied, ' Indeed, I came to have the pleasure 
 of congratulating Miss Marshall on, if it be not 
 impertinent to say so, a beautiful and rare per- 
 severance and constancy being rewarded.'
 
 vii MORTONS AND MANNERS M 
 
 ' As if she had not known what she was about,' 
 muttered Mrs. Morton, not even yet quite con- 
 founded, but as she saw the lady lay another hand 
 over that of still trembling Mary, she added, ' Well, 
 if that is the case, my lady, and she is to be encour- 
 aged in her obstinacy, I have no more to say, except 
 that it is a cruel shame on his poor dear brother's 
 children, that — that he has made so much of, and 
 have the best right ' and she began to sob again. 
 
 'Come,' said Miss Lang, as if talking to a 
 naughty girl, 'if you are overcome like that, you 
 had better come away.' 
 
 Wherewith authoritative habits made it possible 
 to her to get Mrs. Morton out of the room ; while 
 Mary, well used to self-restraint, was struggling 
 with choking tears, but when warm-hearted Lady 
 Kenton drew her close and kissed her, they began 
 to flow uncontrollably, so that she could only gasp, 
 ' Oh, I beg your pardon, my lady ! '
 
 78 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' Never mind,' was the answer ; ' I don't wonder ! 
 There's no word for that language but brutal.' 
 
 ' Oh, don't,' was Mary's cry. ' She is his, Lord 
 Northmoor's sister-in-law, and he has done every- 
 thing for her ever since his brother's death.' 
 
 ' That is no reason she should speak to you in 
 that way. I must ask you to excuse me, but we 
 could not help hearing, she was so loud, and then I 
 felt impelled to break in.' 
 
 ' It was very very kind ! But oh, I wish I 
 knew whether she is not in the right after all ! ' 
 
 ' I am sure Lord Northmoor is deeply attached 
 — quite in earnest,' said Lady Kenton, feeling rather 
 as if she was taking a liberty. 
 
 ' Yes, I know it would grieve him most dread- 
 fully, if it came to an end now, dear fellow. I 
 know it would break my heart, too, but never mind 
 that, I would go away, out of his reach, and he 
 might get over it. Would it not be better than his
 
 vil MORTONS AND MANNERS 79 
 
 being always ashamed of an inferior, incompetent 
 creature, always dragging after him ? ' 
 
 ' I do not think you can be either, after what 
 my daughter and Miss Lang have told me.' 
 
 'You see, it is not even as if I had been a 
 governess in a private family, I have always been 
 here. I know nothing about servants, or great 
 houses, or society, not so much as our least little 
 girl, who has a home.' 
 
 'May I tell you what I think, my clear,' said 
 Lady Kenton, greatly touched. ' You have nothing to 
 unlearn, and there is nothing needful to the position 
 but what any person of moderate ability and good 
 sense can acquire, and I am quite sure that Lord 
 Nbrthmoor would be far less happy without you, 
 even in the long-run, besides the distress you would 
 cause him now. It is not a brilliant, showy person 
 that he needs, but one to understand and make 
 him a real home.'
 
 80 THAT STICK chap, vn 
 
 ' That is what he is always telling me,' said Mary, 
 somewhat cheered. 
 
 ' Yes, and he could not help showing where his 
 heart is,' said the lady. ' Now the holidays are near, 
 are they not ? ' 
 
 'The 11th of July.' 
 
 ' Then, if you have no other plans, will you come 
 and stay with me ? We are very quiet people, but 
 you would have an opportunity of understanding 
 something of the kind of life.' 
 
 ' Oh, how very kind of you ! Nobody has been 
 so good to me.' 
 
 'I think I can help you in some of the diffi- 
 culties if you will let me,' said Lady Kenton, quite 
 convinced herself, and leaving a much happier 
 woman than she had found.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 SECOND THOUGHTS 
 
 Though Miss Lang was shocked and indignant 
 at Mrs. Morton's violence, she was a wise woman, 
 and felt that it would be better tact not to let such 
 a person depart without an attempt at pacification ; 
 so she did her best at dignified soothing, and 
 listened to a good deal of grumbling and lamenta- 
 tion. 
 
 She contrived, however, to give the impression that 
 as things stood, Mrs. Morton would be far wiser to 
 make no more resistance, but to consult family peace 
 by accepting Miss Marshall, who, she assured the 
 visitor, was a very kind and excellent person, not 
 
 VOL. I G
 
 82 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 likely to influence Lord Northmoor against his own 
 family, except on great provocation. 
 
 Mrs. Morton actually yielded so far as to declare 
 she had only spoken for her dear brother-in-law's 
 own good, and that since he was so infatuated, she 
 supposed, for her dear children's sake, she must 
 endure it. Having no desire to encounter him 
 again, she went off by the next train, leaving a 
 message that she had had tea at Miss Lang's. She 
 related at home to her expectant daughter that 
 Lord Northmoor had grown ' that high and stuck-up, 
 there was no speaking to him, and that there Miss 
 Marshall was an artful puss, as knew how to play 
 her cards and get in with the quality.' 
 
 ' I wish you had taken me, ma,' said Ida, ' I 
 should have known what to say to them.' 
 
 ' I can't tell, child, you might only have made it 
 worse. I see how it is now, and we must be mum, 
 or it may be the worse for us. He says he will do
 
 VIII SECOND THOUGHTS 83 
 
 what he can for us, but I know what that means. 
 She will hold the purse-strings, and make him 
 meaner than he is already. He will never know 
 how to spend his fortune now he has got it ! If 
 your poor, dear pa had only been alive now, he 
 would never have let you be wronged.' 
 
 ' But you gave it to them ? ' cried Ida. 
 
 'That I did! Only that lady, Lady Kenton, 
 came in all stuck-up and haughty, and cut me short, 
 interfering as she had no business to, or I would 
 have brought Miss Mary to her marrow -bones. 
 She hadn't a word to say for herself, but now she 
 has got those fine folks on her side, the thing will 
 go on as sure as fate. However, I've done my 
 dooty, that's one comfort; and now, I suppose I 
 shall have to patch it up as best I can.' 
 
 ' I wouldn't ! ' said Ida hotly. 
 
 ' Ah, Ida, my dear, you don't know what a 
 mother won't do for her children.'
 
 84 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 A sigh that was often reiterated as Mrs. Morton 
 composed a letter to her brother-in-law, with some 
 hints from Ida on the spelling, and some from Mr. 
 Eollstone on the address. The upshot was that her 
 dear brother and his fiancic were to believe her 
 actuated by the purest sense of the duty and 
 anxiety she owed to them and her dear children, 
 the orphans of his dear deceased brother. Now 
 that she had once expressed herself, she trusted to 
 her dear Frank's affectionate nature to bury all in 
 oblivion, and to believe that she should be ready to 
 welcome her new sister-in-law with the warmest 
 affection. Therewith followed a request for five 
 pounds, to pay for her mourning and darling Ida's, 
 which they had felt due to him ! 
 
 Lord Northmoor did not quite see how it was 
 due to him, nor did he intend to give whatever his 
 dear sister-in-law might demand, but she had made 
 him so angry that he felt that he must prove his
 
 viii SECOND THOUGHTS 85 
 
 forgiveness to himself. Mary had not thought it 
 needful to describe the force of the attack upon 
 herself, or perhaps his pardon might not have gone 
 so far. He sent the note, and added that as he 
 "was wanted at Northmoor for a day or two, he 
 would take his nephew Herbert with him. 
 
 This was something like, as Mrs. Morton said, a 
 kind of tangible acknowledgment of their relation- 
 ship and of Herbert as his heir, and it was a 
 magnificent thing to tell all her acquaintances that 
 her son was gone to the family seat with his uncle, 
 Lord ISTorthmoor. She would fain have obtained 
 for him some instructions in the manners of the 
 upper ten thousand from Mr. Eollstone, but Herbert 
 entirely repudiated listening to that old fogey, 
 observing that after all it was only old Frank, and 
 lie wasn't going to bother himself for the like of 
 him. 
 
 The uncle was fond of his brother's boy, and
 
 86 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 had devised this plan partly for the sake of the 
 pleasure it would give, and partly because it was 
 impossible to form any judgment of his character 
 while with the mother. He was a fine, well-grown, 
 manly boy, and when seen among his companions, 
 had an indefinable air of good blood about him. 
 He had hitherto been at a good clay-school which 
 prepared boys for the merchant service, and his 
 tastes were so much in the direction of the sea, 
 that it was much to be regretted that at fourteen 
 and a half it was useless to think of preparation for 
 a naval cacletship. He was sent up by train to 
 join his uncle at Hurminster, and the first question 
 after the greeting was, ' I say, uncle, shan't you 
 have a yacht ? ' 
 
 ' I could not afford it, if I wished it,' was the 
 answer, while Punch was handed over to him, and 
 Lord Northmoor applied himself to a long blue 
 letter.
 
 VIII SECOND THOUGHTS 87 
 
 ' Landlubber ! ' sighed Herbert to himself, with 
 true marine contempt for a man who had sat on an 
 office-stool all his life. ' He doesn't look a bit more 
 of a swell than he used to. It is well there's some 
 one with some pluck in the family.'
 
 CHAPTEE IX 
 
 THE HEIR-PRESUMPTUOUS 
 
 Herbert began to be impressed when, on the train 
 arriving at a little country station, a servant in 
 mourning, with finger to his hat, inquired after his 
 Lordship's luggage, and another was seen presiding 
 over a coroneted brougham. 
 
 'I say,' he breathed forth, when they were shut 
 in, ' is this yours ? ' 
 
 ' It is Miss Morton's, I believe, at present. I am 
 to arrange whether to keep it or not.' 
 
 They were driving over an open heath in its 
 summer carpet-like state of purple heather, dwarf 
 gorse, and bracken. Lord Northmoor looked out,
 
 CHAP, ix THE HEIK-PRESUMPTUOUS 89 
 
 with thoughtfulness in his face. By and by there 
 was a gate, a lodge, a curtseying woman, and as 
 they passed it, he said, ' Now, this is Northmoor.' 
 
 ' Yours, uncle ? ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' My ! ' was all Herbert could utter. It 
 
 seemed to his town-bred eyes a huge space before 
 they reached, through some rather scanty plantations, 
 another lodge, and a park, not very extensive, but 
 with a few fine trees, and they thundered up 
 beneath the pillars to what was, to his idea, a 
 palace — with servants standing about in a great 
 hall. 
 
 His uncle would have turned one way, but a 
 servant said, ' Miss Morton is in the morning-room, 
 my Lord,' and ushered them into a room where a 
 lady in black came forward. 
 
 ' You did not expect to find me here still,' she 
 said cordially ; ' but Adela is gone to her brother's,
 
 90 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 and I thought I had better stay for the division of 
 — of the things.' 
 
 'Oh, certainly — I am — glad/ he stammered, 
 with a blush as one not quite sure of the correctness 
 of the proceeding. ' I wouldn't have intruded ' 
 
 ' Bosh ! I'm the intruder. Letitia Bury is gone 
 — alas — but,' said she, laughing, 'Hailes is here — 
 staying,' she added to relieve him and to lessen the 
 confusion that amused her, ' and I see you have a 
 companion. Your nephew ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, Herbert, my late brother's son. I would 
 not have brought him if I had known.' 
 
 ' A cousin,' she said, smiling, and shaking hands 
 with him. ' Boys are my delight. This is quite a 
 new experience.' 
 
 Herbert looked up surprised, not much liking to 
 become an experience. He had had less intercourse 
 with ladies than many boys of humbler pretensions, 
 for his mother had always scouted the idea of send-
 
 IX THE HEIR-PRESUMPTUOUS 91 
 
 ing her children to a Sunday-school, and she was 
 neither like his mother's friends nor his preconceived 
 notions. ' There ! for want of an introduction, I 
 must introduce myself. Your cousin Bertha, or 
 Birdie, whichever you like best.' 
 
 Frank was by no means prepared to say even 
 Bertha, and was in agonies lest Herbert should 
 presume on the liberty given him ; but if the boy 
 had been in the palace of Truth, he would have 
 said, ' You old girl, you are awfully old to call your- 
 self Birdie ! ' For Birdie had been a pet name of 
 Rose Rollstone ; and Bertha Morton, though slim 
 and curly-headed, had a worn look about her eyes, 
 and a countenance such as to show her five-and- 
 thirty years, and to the eyes of fourteen was almost 
 antediluvian; indeed, older observers might detect 
 a worn, haggard, strained look. He was somewhat 
 disgusted, too, at the thin rolls of bread-and-butter 
 on the low table, whence she proceeded to hand tea-
 
 92 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 cups, as he thought of the substantial meals at 
 home. When they had been conducted to their 
 rooms, and his uncle followed to his, he broke out 
 with his perpetual, ' I say, uncle, is this all the grub 
 great swells have ? I'm awfully peckish ! ' 
 
 ' That's early tea, my boy/ was the answer, with a 
 smile. ' There's dinner to come, and I hope you will 
 behave yourself well, and not use such expressions.' 
 
 ' Dinner ! that's not such a bad hearing, but I 
 suppose one must eat it like a judge ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly ; I am afraid I am not a very good 
 model, but don't you do anything you don't see me 
 do. And, Herbert, don't take wine every time the 
 servants offer it.' 
 
 At which Herbert made a face. 
 
 ' Have you got any evening shoes ? No ! If I 
 had only known that the lady was here ! It can't 
 be helped to-day, only wasli your face and hands 
 well ; there's some hot water.'
 
 IX THE HEIR-PRESUMPTUOUS 93 
 
 'Why, they ain't dirty,' said the boy, surveying 
 thein as one to whom the remains of a journey were 
 mere trifles, then, with a sigh, ' It's no end of a place, 
 but you swells have a lot of bores, and no mistake !' 
 
 Upstairs Herbert roamed about studying with 
 great curiosity the appliances of the first bed- 
 chamber he had ever beheld beyond the degree of 
 his mother's ' first floor,' but downstairs, he was in 
 the mood of the savage, too proud to show wonder 
 or admiration or the sense of awe with which he 
 was inspired by being waited on by the very marrow 
 of Mr. Bollstone, always such grand company at 
 home. This daunted him far more than the pres- 
 ence of the lady, and though his was a spirit not 
 easily daunted, he almost blushed when that person- 
 age peremptorily resisted his endeavour to present 
 the wrong glass for champagne, which fortunately 
 he disliked too much at the first taste to make an- 
 other attempt. Lord Northmoor, for the first time
 
 94 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 at the foot of his own table, was on thorns all the 
 time, lest he should see his nephew commit some 
 indiscretion, and left most of the conversation to 
 Miss Morton and Mr. Hailes, the solicitor, a fine- 
 looking old gentleman, who was almost fatherly to 
 her, very civil to him, but who cast somewhat 
 critical eyes on the cub who might have to be licked 
 into a shape befitting the heir. 
 
 They tried to keep their host in the conversation, 
 but without much success, though he listened as it 
 drifted into immediate interests and affairs of the 
 neighbourhood, and made response, as best he could, 
 to the explanations which, like well-bred people, 
 they from time to time directed to him. He thus 
 learnt that Lady Adela with her little Amice had 
 been carried off ' by main force,' Bertha said, ' by 
 her brother. But she will come back again.' she 
 added. ' She is devoted to the place and her graves 
 — and the poor people.'
 
 ix THE HEIR-PRESUMPTUOUS 95 
 
 ' I do not know what they would do without 
 her,' said Mr. Hailes. 
 
 'No. She is lady-of-all-work and Pro-parson- 
 ess — with all her might ' ; then seeing, or thinking 
 she saw, a puzzled look, she added, ' I don't know 
 if you discovered, ISTorthmoor, that our Vicar, Mr. 
 Woodman, has no wife, and Adela has supplied the 
 lack to the parish, having a soul for country poor, 
 whereas they are too tame for me. I care about 
 my neighbours, of course, after a sort, but the jolly 
 city sparrows of the slums for me ! I long to be 
 away.' 
 
 What to say to this Lord Northmoor knew as 
 little as did his nephew, and with some difficulty he 
 managed to utter, ' Are not they very uncivilised ? ' 
 
 ' That's the beauty of it,' said Bertha ; ' I've 
 spotted my own special preserve of match- girls, 
 newsboys, etc., and Mr. Hailes is going to help me 
 to get a scrumptious little house, whence I can get
 
 96 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 to it by underground rail. Oh, you may shake 
 your head, Mr. Hailes, but if you will not help me, 
 I shall set my unassisted genius to work, and you'll 
 only suffer agonies in thinking of the muddle I may 
 be making.' 
 
 ' What does Lady Adela say ? ' asked Mr. Hailes. 
 
 ' She thinks me old enough to take care of myself, 
 whatever you do, Mr. Hailes ; besides, she knows I 
 can come up to breathe ! I long for it ! ' 
 
 The dinner ended by Bertha rising, and propos- 
 ing to Herbert to come with her. It was not too 
 dark, she said, to look out into the Park and see the 
 rabbits scudding about. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Mr. Hailes, shaking his head as they 
 went, ' the rabbits ought not to be so near, but there 
 has been sad neglect since poor Mr. Morton's death.' 
 
 It was much easier to get on in a tete-a-tete, and 
 before long Mr. Hailes had heard some of the per- 
 plexities about Herbert, the foremost of which was
 
 IX THE HEIR-PRESUMPTUOUS 97 
 
 how to make him presentable for ladies' society in 
 the evening. If Miss Morton's presence had been 
 anticipated, either his uncle would not have brought 
 him, or would have fitted him out beforehand, for 
 though he looked fit for the fields and woods in 
 male company, evening costume had not yet dawned 
 on his imagination. Mr. Hailes recommended send- 
 ing him in the morning to the town at Colbeam, 
 under charge of the butler, Prowse — who would 
 rather enjoy the commission, and was quite capable 
 of keeping up any needed authority. For the future 
 training, the more important matter on which he 
 was next consulted, Mr. Hailes mentioned the name 
 of a private tutor, who was likely to be able to deal 
 with the boy better under present circumstances 
 than a public school could do — since at Herbert's 
 age, his ignorance of the classics on the one hand, 
 and of gentlemanly habits on the other, would tell 
 
 too much against him. 
 
 VOL. I h
 
 98 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' But/ said Mr. Hailes, ' Miss Morton will be a 
 very good adviser to you on that head/ 
 
 ' She is very good - natured to him/ said 
 Frank. 
 
 ' No one living has a better heart than Miss 
 Morton/ said Mr. Hailes heartily ; ' a little eccentric, 
 owing to — to circumstances. She has had her 
 troubles, poor dear ; but she has as good a heart as 
 ever was, as you will find, my Lord, in all arrange- 
 ments with her.' 
 
 Nevertheless, Lord Northmoor's feelings towards 
 her might be startled the next morning, when he 
 descended to the dining-room. A screen cut off the 
 door, and as he was coming round it, followed by 
 his nephew, Bertha's clear voice was heard saying, 
 'Yes, he is inoffensive, but he is a stick. There's 
 no denying it, Mr. Hailes, he is a dreadful stick.' 
 
 Frank was too far advanced to retire, before the 
 meaning dawned on him, partly through a little
 
 ix THE HEIR-PRESUMPTUOUS 99 
 
 explosion of Herbert behind him, and partly from 
 the guilty consternation and colour with which the 
 other two turned round from the erection of plants 
 among which they were standing. 
 
 Yet it was the shy man who spoke first in the 
 predicament, like a timid creature driven to bay. 
 
 ' Yes, Miss Morton, I know it is too true ; no 
 one is more sensible of it than myself. I can only 
 hope to do my best, such as it is.' 
 
 ' Oh, Northmoor, it was very horrid and un- 
 guarded in me, and I can only be sorry and beg 
 your pardon,' and while she laughed and held out 
 her hand, there was a dew in her eyes. 
 
 ' Truths do not need pardon,' he said, as he 
 gave a cousinly grasp, ' and I think you will try 
 kindly to excuse my deficiencies and disadvan- 
 tages.' 
 
 There was a certain dignity in his tone, and 
 Bertha said heartily —
 
 100 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' Thank you. It is all right in essentials, and 
 chatter is of very little consequence. Now come 
 and have some breakfast.' 
 
 They got on together far better after that, and 
 began to feel like relations, before Herbert was sent 
 off with Mr. Prowse to Colbeam. Indeed, through- 
 out the transactions that followed, Bertha showed 
 herself far less devoted to her own interests than to 
 what might be called the honour of the family. 
 Her father's will had been made in haste, after the 
 death of his little grandson, and was as concise as 
 possible, her influence having told upon it. Know- 
 ing that the new heir would have nothing to begin 
 with, and aware that if he inherited merely the 
 title, house, and land, he would be in great straits, 
 the old Lord had bequeathed to him nearly what 
 would have been left to the grandson, a fair propor- 
 tion of the money in the funds and bank, and 
 all the furniture and appurtenances of ISTorthmoor
 
 ix THE HEIR-PRESUMPTUOUS 101 
 
 House, excepting such articles as Bertha and Lady 
 Adela might select, each up to a certain value. 
 
 Lady Adela's had been few, and already chosen, 
 and Bertha's were manifestly only matters of per- 
 sonal belonging, and not up altogether to the 
 amount named ; so as to avoid stripping the place, 
 which, at the best, was only splendid in utterly 
 unaccustomed eyes. Horses and carriages had to 
 be bought of her, and it was she who told him what 
 was absolutely necessary, and fixed the price as low 
 as she could, so as not to make them a gift. And 
 he was not so ignorant in this matter as she had 
 expected — for the old habits of his boyhood served 
 him, he could ride well, and his scruples at Miss 
 Morton's estimate proved that he knew a horse 
 when he saw it — as she said. She would, perhaps, 
 have liked him better if he had been a dissipated 
 horsey man like his father. He would have given 
 her sensations — and on his side, considering the
 
 102 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 reputation of the family, he was surprised at her 
 eager, almost passionate desire to be rid of the 
 valuable horses and equipages as soon as possible. 
 
 When, in the afternoon, she went out of doors 
 to refresh herself with a solitary ramble in the Park 
 after her morning of business, she heard an alter- 
 cation, and presently encountered a keeper, dragging 
 after him a trespasser, in whom, to her amazement, 
 she recognised Herbert Morton, at the same moment 
 
 as he exclaimed : ' Cousin Bertha ! Miss Look 
 
 at this impudent fellow, though I told him I was 
 Lord Northmoor's own nephew.' 
 
 ' And I told him, ma'am,' said the keeper, touch- 
 ing his hat, ' that if he was ten nephews I wouldn't 
 have him throwing stones at my pheasants, nor his 
 Lordship wouldn't neither, and then he sauced me, 
 and I said I would see what his Lordship said to that.' 
 
 ' You must excuse him this time, Best,' said Miss 
 Morton; 'he is a town -bred boy, and knows no
 
 ix THE HEIK-PRESUMPTUOUS 103 
 
 better, and you had better not worry his Lordship 
 about it.' 
 
 ' Very well, Miss Morton, if it is your pleasure, 
 but them pheasants are my province, and I must do 
 my dooty.' 
 
 ' Of course, quite right, Best.' she answered ; ' but 
 my cousin here did not understand, and you must 
 make allowance for him.' 
 
 Best touched his hat again, and went off with an 
 undercurrent of growl. 
 
 ' Oh, Herbert, this is a pity ! ' Miss Morton 
 exclaimed. 
 
 ' Cheeky chap ! ' said Herbert sulkily. ' What 
 business had he to meddle with me ? A great big- 
 wild bird gets up with no end of a row, and I did 
 nothing but shy a stone, and out comes this fellow 
 at me in a regular wax, and didn't care half a 
 farthing when I told him who I was. I fancy he 
 did not believe me.'
 
 104 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' I don't wonder/ said Bertha ; ' you have yet to 
 learn that in the eyes of any gentleman, nothing is 
 much more sacred than a pheasant.' 
 
 * I never meant to hurt the thing, only one just 
 chucks a stone,' muttered Herbert, abashed, but still 
 defensive and offended. ' I thought my uncle would 
 teach the rascal how to speak to me.' 
 
 ' I'll tell you what, Herbert, if you take that line 
 with good old servants, who are only doing their 
 duty, you won't have a happy time of it here. I 
 suppose you wish to take your place as a gentleman. 
 Well, the greatest sign of a gentleman is to be 
 courteous and well-behaved to all about him.' 
 
 ' He wasn't courteous or well-behaved to me.' 
 
 { No, because you did not show yourself such a 
 gentleman as he has been used to. If you acted 
 like a tramp or a poacher, no wonder he thought 
 you one ' ; then, after a pause, ' You will find that 
 much of your pleasure in sport depends on the
 
 ix THE HEIR-PRESUMPTUOUS 105 
 
 keepers, and that it would be a great disadvantage 
 to be on bad terms with them, so I strongly advise 
 you, on every account, to treat them with civility, 
 and put out of your head that there is any dignity 
 in being rude.' 
 
 Herbert liked Miss Morton, and had been im- 
 pressed as well as kindly treated by her, and 
 though he sulked now, there was an after-effect.
 
 CHAPTEE X 
 
 COMING HONOUES 
 
 With great trepidation did Mary Marshall set forth 
 on her visit to Coles Kenton. She had made up 
 her mind — and a determined mind it could be on 
 occasion — that on it should turn her final accept- 
 ance of her twenty years' lover. 
 
 Utterly inexperienced as she was, even in 
 domestic, not to say high life, she had perhaps an 
 exaggerated idea, alike of its requirements and of 
 her own deficiencies ; and she was resolved to use 
 her own judgment, according to her personal ex- 
 perience, whether she should be hindrance or help 
 to him whom she loved too truly and unselfishly to 
 allow herself to be made the former.
 
 chap, x COMING HONOURS 107 
 
 She was glad that for the first few days she 
 should not see him, and should thus be less distracted 
 and biassed, but it was with a sinking heart that 
 she heard that Lady Kenton had called to take her 
 up in the carriage. Grateful as she was for the 
 kindness, which saved her the dreariness of a solitary 
 arrival, she was a strange mixture of resolution and 
 self - distrust, of moral courage and timidity, as had 
 been shown by her withstanding all Miss Lang's 
 endeavours to make her improve her dress beyond 
 what was absolutely necessary for the visit, lest it 
 should be presuming on the future. 
 
 Lady Kenton had a manner such as to smooth 
 away shyness, and, with tact that perceived with 
 what kind of nature she had to deal, managed to 
 make the tea-table serve only as a renewal of 
 acquaintance with Frederica, and an introduction to 
 Sir Edward, after which Mary was taken to the 
 schoolroom and made known to the governess, a
 
 108 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 kindly, sensible woman, who, according to previous 
 arrangement, made the visitor free of her domains as 
 a refuge. 
 
 The prettiness and luxury of the guest-chamber 
 was quite a shock, and Mary would rather have 
 faced a dozen naughty girls than have taken Sir 
 Edward's arm to go in to dinner. However, her 
 hostess had decided on a quiet course of treatment 
 such as not to frighten this pupil, and it had been 
 agreed only to take enough notice of her to prevent 
 her from feeling herself neglected, until she should 
 begin to be more at ease. ISTor was it long before 
 a certain sparkle in the brown eyes showed that she 
 was amused by, and appreciative of, the family talk. 
 
 It was true, as Lady Kenton had told her, that 
 she had nothing to unlearn, all she wanted was 
 confidence, experience, and ease, and in so humble, 
 gentle, and refined a nature as hers, the acquisition 
 of these could not lead to the disclosure of anything
 
 x COMING HONOURS 109 
 
 undesirable. So, after the first day of novelty, when 
 she had learnt the hours, could distinguish between 
 the young people, knew her way about the house so 
 as to be secure of not opening the wrong doors, and 
 when she had learnt where and when she would be 
 welcome and even helpful, she began to enjoy her- 
 self and the life, the beauty, and the leisure. 
 
 She made friends heartily with the governess, 
 fraternised with Freda, taught the younger girls new 
 games, could hold a sort of conversation with Sir 
 Edward, became less afraid of George, and daily had 
 more of filial devotion to Lady Kenton. The books 
 on the tables were a real delight and pleasure to 
 her, when she found that it was not ill-mannered to 
 sit down and read in the forenoon, and the discus- 
 sion of them was a great help in what Freda called 
 teaching her to talk. Visitors were very gradually 
 brought upon her, a gentleman or two at first, who 
 knew nothing about her, perhaps thought her the
 
 110 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 governess and merely bowed to her. There was only 
 onereal contretemps, when some guests, who lived rather 
 beyond the neighbourhood, arrived for afternoon tea, 
 and, moreover, full of curiosity about Lord Northmoor. 
 Was it true that he was an attorney's clerk, and 
 was not he going to marry a very inferior person ? 
 
 ' Certainly not,' said Lady Kenton. ' He is 
 engaged to my friend, Miss Marshall.' 
 
 The said Miss Marshall was handing the sugar, 
 while Freda was pouring out the tea. She had 
 been named on the ladies' entrance, and the colour 
 rose to her eyes but she said nothing, while there 
 was a confusion of, ' I beg pardon. I understand.' 
 
 ' Report makes a good many mistakes,' said Lady 
 Kenton coolly. 'Mary, my dear, you have given 
 
 me no sugar. 
 
 It was the first time of calling her by her Chris- 
 tian name, and done for the sake of making the equal 
 intimacy apparent. In fact, Mary was behaving
 
 x COMING HONOURS 111 
 
 herself better than the visitors, as Lady Kenton 
 absolutely told her when a sort of titter was heard 
 in the hall, where they were expressing to Freda 
 their horror at the scrape, and extorting that Miss 
 Marshall was really a governess. 
 
 ' But quite a lady,' said Freda stoutly, ' and we 
 are all as fond of her as possible.' 
 
 It showed how much progress she had made that 
 even this shock did not set her to express any more 
 faint-hearted doubts, and, when Lord Northmoor 
 arrived the next day, the involuntary radiance on 
 both their faces was token enough that they were 
 all the world to each other. Mary allowed herself 
 to venture on getting Lady Kenton's counsel on the 
 duties of household headship that would fall on her ; 
 and instead of being terrified at the great garden- 
 party and dinner-party to be held at Coles Kenton, 
 eagerly availed herself of instruction in the details 
 of their management. She had accepted her fate,
 
 112 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 and when the two were seen moving about among 
 the people of the party they neither of them looked 
 incongruous with the county aristocracy. Quiet, 
 retiring, and insignificant they might be, but there 
 was nothing to remark by the most curious eyes of 
 those who knew they were to see the new peer and 
 his destined bride; in fact, as George and Freda 
 privately remarked, they were just the people that 
 nobody ever would see at all, unless they were set 
 up upon a pedestal. 
 
 Mary still feebly suggested, when the marriage 
 was spoken of, that it might be wiser for Frank to 
 wait a year, get over his first expenses and feel his 
 way; but he would not hear of her going back to 
 her work, and pleaded his solitude so piteously that 
 she could not but consent to let it take place as soon 
 as possible. They would fain have kept it as private 
 as possible, but their good friends were of opinion 
 that it was necessary to give them a start with some
 
 
 x COMING HONOURS 113 
 
 Mat, and insisted that it should take place with all 
 due honours at Coles Kenton, where Mary was 
 treated like a favoured niece, and assisted with 
 counsel on her trousseau. The savings she had 
 made during the long years of her engagement were 
 enough to fit her out sufficiently to feel that she 
 was hringing her own wardrohe, and Lady Kenton 
 actually went to London with her to superintend 
 the outlay. 
 
 ' Whom would they like to have asked to the 
 wedding ? ' the lady inquired, herself naming the 
 Langs and Burfords. ' Of course,' she added, smiling, 
 ' Freda and Alice will be only too happy to be 
 bridesmaids. Have you any one whom you would 
 wish to ask ? Your old scholars perhaps.' 
 
 ' I think,' said Mary, hesitating, ' that one reason 
 
 why we think we ought to decline your kindness 
 
 was — about his relations.' 
 
 Lady Kenton had given full license to the pro- 
 VOL. I I
 
 114 THAT STICK 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 priety of calling him Frank with intimate friends, 
 but Mary always had a shyness about it. 
 
 ' Indeed, I should make no question about ask- 
 ing them, if I had not doubted whether, after what 
 passed ' 
 
 ' That is all forgotten,' said Mary gently. 'I have 
 had quite a nice letter since, and ' 
 
 ' Of course they must be asked,' said Lady 
 Kenton; 'I should have proposed it before, but 
 for that scene.' 
 
 ' That is nothing,' said Mary ; ' the doubt is 
 whether, considering the style of people, it would 
 not be better for us to manage it otherwise, and not 
 let you be troubled.' 
 
 ' Oh, that's nothing ! On such an occasion there's 
 no fear of their not behaving like the rest of the 
 world. There are girls, I think ; they should be 
 bridesmaids.' 
 
 This very real kindness overcame all scruples,
 
 X COMING HONOUES 115 
 
 and indeed a great deal might be forgiven to Miss 
 Marshall in consideration of the glory of telling all 
 Westhaven of the invitation to be present at ' my 
 brother Lord Northrnoor's wedding, at Sir Edward 
 Kenton's, Baronet.' He gave the dresses, not only 
 the bridesmaids' white and cerise (Freda's choice), 
 but the chocolate moire which for a minute Mrs. 
 Morton fancied ' the little spiteful cat ' had chosen 
 on purpose to suppress her, till assured by all 
 qualified beholders, especially Mrs. Eollstone and a 
 dressmaker friend, that in nothing else would she 
 have looked so entirely quite the lady. 
 
 And Lady Kenton's augury was fulfilled. The 
 whole family were subdued enough by their surround- 
 ings to comport themselves quite well enough to pass 
 muster.
 
 CHAPTEE XI 
 
 POSSESSION 
 
 So Francis Morton, Baron Northnioor of Northmoor, 
 and Mary Marshall, daughter of the late Eeverend 
 John Marshall, were man and wife at last. Their 
 honeymoon was ideally happy. It fulfilled a dream 
 of their life, when Frank used, in the holidays 
 spent by Mary with his mother, to read aloud the 
 Waverley novels, and they had calculated, almost 
 as an impossible castle in the air, the possibility, of 
 visiting the localities. And now they went, as 
 assuredly they had never thought of going, and not 
 much impeded by the greatness that had been 
 thrust on them. The good-natured Kentons had
 
 chap, xi POSSESSION 117 
 
 dispensed his Lordship from the encumbrance of 
 a valet, and though my Lady could not well be 
 allowed to go maidless, Lady Kenton had found 
 a sensible, friendly person for her, of whom she soon 
 ceased to be afraid, and thus felt the advantage of 
 being able to attend to her husband instead of her 
 luggage. 
 
 Tourists might look and laugh at their simple 
 delight as at that of a pair of unsophisticated 
 cockneys. This did not trouble them, as they trod 
 what was to them classic ground, tried in vain the 
 impossible feat of ' seeing Melrose aright,' but re- 
 velled in what they did see, stood with bated breath 
 at Dryburgh by the Minstrel's tomb, and tracked 
 his magic spells from the Tweed even to Staffa, 
 feeling the full delight for the first time of mount- 
 ain, sea, and loch. Their enjoyment was perhaps 
 even greater than that of boy and girl, for it was 
 the reaction of chastened lives and hearts ' at leisure
 
 118 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 from themselves/ nor were spirit and vigour too 
 much spent for enterprise. 
 
 They tasted to the full every innocent charm 
 that came in their way, and, above all, the bliss of 
 being together in the perfect sympathy that had been 
 the growth of so many years. Their maid, Harte, 
 might well confide to her congeners that though 
 my lord and my lady were the oldest couple she 
 had known, they were the most attached, in a 
 quiet way. 
 
 They were loth to end this state of felicity before 
 taking their new cares upon them, and were glad 
 that the arrangements of the executors made it 
 desirable that they should not take possession till 
 October, when they left behind them the gorgeous 
 autumn beauty of the western coast and journeyed 
 southwards. 
 
 The bells were rung, the gates thrown wide open, 
 and lights flashed iu the windows as Lord and Lady
 
 xi POSSESSION 119 
 
 Northmoor drove up to their home, but it was in 
 the dark, and there was no demonstrative welcome, 
 the indoor servants were all new, the cook-house- 
 keeper hired by Lady Kenton's assistance, and the 
 rest of the maids chosen by her, the butler and his 
 subordinate acquired in like manner. 
 
 It was a little dreary. The rooms looked large 
 
 and empty. Miss Morton's belongings had been 
 
 just what gave a homelike air to the place, and 
 
 when these were gone, even the big fires could not 
 
 greatly cheer the huge spaces. However, these two 
 
 months had accustomed the new arrivals to their 
 
 titles, and likewise to being waited upon, and they 
 
 were less at a loss than they would have been 
 
 previously, though to Mary especially it was hard to 
 
 realise that it was her own house, and that she need 
 
 ask no one's leave. Also that it was not a duty 
 
 to sit with a fire. She could not well have done so, 
 
 considering how many were doing their best to
 
 120 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 enliven the house, and finally she spent the evening 
 in the library, not a very inviting room in itself, 
 but which the late lord had inhabited, and where 
 the present one had already held business interviews. 
 It was, of course, lined with the standard books of 
 the last generation, and Mary, who had heard of 
 many, but never had access to them, flitted over 
 them while her husband opened the letters he 
 had found awaiting him. To her, what some one 
 has called the ' tea, tobacco, and snuff ' of an old 
 library where the books are chiefly viewed as 
 appropriate furniture, were all delightful dis- 
 coveries. Even to ' Hume's History of England — 
 nine volumes ! I did not know it was so lone ! 
 Our first class had the Student's Hume. Is there 
 much difference ? ' 
 
 'Eather to the Student's advantage, I believe. 
 Half these letters, at least, are mere solicitations for 
 custom ! And advertisements ! '
 
 xi POSSESSION 121 
 
 ' How the books stick together ! I wonder when 
 they were opened last ! ' 
 
 ' Never, I suspect/ said he. ' I do not imagine 
 the Mortons were much disposed to read.' 
 
 1 Well, they have left us a delightful store ! 
 What's this ? Smollett's Don Quixote. I always 
 wanted to know about that. Is it not something 
 about giants and windmills ? Have you read it ? ' 
 
 ' I once read an odd volume. He was half mad, 
 and too good for this world, and thought he was 
 living in a romance. I will read you some bits. You 
 would not like it all.' 
 
 ' Oh, I do hope you will have time to read to me ! 
 Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. 
 All these volumes ! They are quite damp. You 
 have read it ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, and I wish I could remember all those 
 Emperors. I must put aside this letter for Hailes 
 — it is a man applying for a house.'
 
 122 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' How strange it sounds ! Look, here is such an 
 immense Shakespeare ! Oh ! full of engravings,' as 
 she fell upon Boydell's Shakespeare — another name 
 reverenced, though she only knew a few selected 
 plays, prepared for elocution exercises. 
 
 Her husband, having had access to the Institute 
 Library, and spent many evenings over books, was 
 better read than she, whose knowledge went no 
 farther than that of the highest class, but who knew 
 all very accurately that she did know, and was 
 intelligent enough to find in those shelves a delight- 
 ful promise of pasture. He was by this time 
 sighing over requests for subscriptions. 
 
 ' Such numbers ! Such good purposes ! But 
 how can I give ? ' 
 
 ' Cannot you give at least a guinea ? ' asked 
 Mary, after hearing some. 
 
 ' I do not know whether in this position a small 
 sum in the list is not more disadvantageous than
 
 xi POSSESSION 123 
 
 nothing at all. Besides, I know nothing of the 
 real merits. I must ask Hailes. Ah ! and here 
 is Emma, I thought that she would be a little 
 impatient. She says she shall let her house 
 for the winter, and thinks of going to London 
 or to Brighton, where she may have masters for 
 the girls.' 
 
 ' Oh, I thought you meant them to go to a good 
 school ? ' 
 
 ' So I do, if I can get Emma's consent ; but I 
 doubt her choosing to part with Ida. She wants to 
 come here.' 
 
 ' I suppose we ought to have her ? ' 
 ' Yes, but not immediately. I do not mean to 
 neglect her — at least, I do hope to do all that is 
 right ; but I think you ought to have a fair start 
 here before she comes, so that we will invite her for 
 Christmas, and then we can arrange about Ida and 
 Constance.'
 
 124 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' Dear little Connie, I hope she is as nice a little 
 girl as she used to be ! ' 
 
 ' With good training, I think, she will be ; and 
 the tutor gives me good accounts of Herbert in this 
 letter.' 
 
 ' Shall we have him here on Sunday week ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I am very anxious to see him. I hope 
 his master gives him more religious instruction than 
 he has ever had, poor boy ! ' 
 
 Though not brilliant or playful, Lord and Lady 
 Northmoor had, it may be perceived, no lack of good 
 sense in their strange new surroundings. It was 
 hard not to feel like guests on sufferance, and next 
 morning, a Sunday, was wet. However, under their 
 waterproofs and umbrellas trudging along, they felt 
 once more, as Mary said, like themselves, as if they 
 had escaped from their keepers. Nobody on the 
 way had the least idea who the two cloaked figures 
 were, and when they crept into the seat nearest the
 
 xi POSSESSION 125 
 
 door they were summarily ejected by a fat, red- 
 faced man, who growled audibly, ' You've no busi- 
 ness in my pew ! ' 
 
 However, with the words, ' Beg your pardon,' 
 they stepped out with a little amusement in their 
 eyes, when a spruce young woman sprang up from 
 the opposite pew, with a scandalised whisper — 
 
 ' Mr. Euddiman, it's his Lordship ! Allow me, 
 my Lord — your own seat ' 
 
 And she marshalled them up to the choir, 
 followed closely by Mr. Euddiman, ruddier than 
 ever, and butcher all over, in a perfect agony of 
 apology, which Lord Northmoor in vain endeavoured 
 to suppress or silence, till, when the guide had 
 pointed to a handsome heavy carved seat with 
 elaborate cushions, he gave a final gasp of, 'You'll 
 not remember it in the custom, my Lord,' and 
 departed, leaving his Lordship almost equally 
 scarlet with annoyance at the place and time of
 
 126 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 the demonstration, though, happily, the clergyman 
 had not yet appeared, in his long and much- 
 tumbled surplice. 
 
 It was a case of a partial restoration of a church 
 in the dawn of such doings, when the horsebox was 
 removed, but the great family could not be routed 
 out of the chancel, so there were the seats, where 
 the choir ought to have sat, beneath a very ugly 
 east window, bedecked with the Morton arms. In 
 the other division of the seat was a pale lady in 
 black, with a little girl, Lady Adela Morton, no 
 doubt, and opposite were the servants, and the 
 school children sat crowded on the steps. It was 
 not such a service as had been the custom of the 
 Hurminster churches ; and the singing, such as it 
 was, depended on the thin shrill voices of the 
 children, assisted by Lady Adela and the mistress ; 
 the sermon was dull and long, and altogether there 
 was something disheartening about the whole.
 
 xi POSSESSION 127 
 
 Lady Aclela had a gentle, sweet countenance and 
 a simple devout manner ; but it was disappointing 
 that she did not attempt to address the newcomers, 
 though they passed her just outside the churchyard, 
 talking to an old man. Lady Kenton would surely 
 have welcomed them.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE BURTHEN OF HONOURS 
 
 A fearful affair to the new possessors of Northmoor 
 was the matter of morning calls. The first that 
 befell them, as in duty bound, was that from the 
 Vicar. They were peaceably writing their letters 
 in the library, and hoping soon to go out to explore 
 the Park, when Mr. Woodman was announced, and 
 was found a lonely black speck in the big dreary 
 drawing-room, a very state room, indeed, which 
 nobody had ever willingly inhabited. The Vicar 
 was accustomed to be overridden ; he was an elderly 
 widower, left solitary in his old age, and of depressed 
 spirits and manner. However, Frank had been used
 
 chap, xii THE BURTHEN OF HONOURS 129 
 
 to intercourse with clergy, though his relations with 
 them seemed reversed, and instead of being patron- 
 ised, he had to take the initiative ; or rather, they 
 touched each other's cold, shy, limp hands, and sat 
 upright in their chairs, and observed upon the 
 appropriate topic of early frosts, which really seemed 
 to be affecting themselves. 
 
 There was a little thaw when Lord Northmoor 
 asked about the population, larger, alas, than the 
 congregation might have seemed to show, and Mary 
 asked if there were much poverty, and was answered 
 that there was much suffering in the winter, there 
 was not much done for the poor except by Lady 
 Adela. 
 
 ' You must tell us how we can assist in any way.' 
 
 The poor man began to brighten. ' It will be a 
 
 great comfort to have some interest in the welfare 
 
 of the parish taken here, my Lord. The influence 
 
 hitherto has not been fortunate. Miss Morton, 
 VOL. i K
 
 130 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 indeed — latterly — but, poor thing, if I may be 
 allowed to say so, she is flighty — and uncertain — 
 no wonder ' 
 
 At that moment Lady Adela was ushered in, and 
 the Vicar looked as if caught in talking treason, 
 while a fresh nip of frost descended on the party. 
 
 Not that the lady was by any means on stiff 
 terms with the Vicar, whom, indeed, she daily con- 
 sulted on parochial subjects, and she had the gracious, 
 hereditary courtesy of high breeding ; but she always 
 averred that this same drawing-room chilled her, 
 and she was fully persuaded that any advance 
 towards familiarity would lead to something ob- 
 noxious on the part of the newcomers, so that the 
 proper relations between herself and them could 
 only be preserved by a judicious entrenchment of 
 courtesy. Still, it was more the manner of the 
 Vicar than of herself that gave the impression of 
 her beincj a formidable autocrat. After the frost
 
 xii THE BURTHEN OF HONOURS 131 
 
 had been again languidly discussed, Mr. Woodman 
 faltered out, 'His Lordship was asking — was so 
 good as to ask — how to assist in the parish.' 
 
 Lady Adela knew how scarce money must be, 
 so she hesitated to mention subscriptions, and only 
 said, ' Thank you — very kind.' 
 
 ' Is there any one I could read to ? ' ventured 
 Mary. 
 
 ' Have you been used to the kind of thing ? ' 
 asked Lady Adela, not unkindly, but in a doubting 
 tone. 
 
 ' No, I never could before ; but I do wish to try 
 to do something.' 
 
 The earnest humility of the tone was touching, 
 the Vicar and the autocrat looked at one another, 
 and the former suggested, ' Old Swan ! ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Lady Adela, ' old Swan lives out at 
 Linghill, which is not above half a mile from this 
 house, but too far off for me to visit constantly. I
 
 132 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 shall be very much obliged if you can undertake 
 the cottages there.' 
 
 'Thank you/ said Mary, as heartily as if she 
 were receiving a commission from the Bishop of the 
 diocese. 
 
 'Did not Miss Morton mention something about 
 a boys' class ? ' said Frank. ' I have been accus- 
 tomed to a Sunday school.' 
 
 Mr. Woodman betrayed as much surprise as if 
 he had said he was accustomed to a coal mine ; and 
 Lady Adela observed graciously, ' Most of them have 
 gone into service this Michaelmas ; but no doubt it 
 will be a relief to Mr. Woodman if you find time 
 to undertake them.' 
 
 This was the gist of the first two morning calls, 
 and there were many more such periods of penance, 
 for the bride and bridegroom were not modern 
 enough in their notions to sit up to await their 
 visitors, and thankful they were to those who would
 
 xii THE BURTHEN OF HONOURS 133 
 
 be at the expense of finding conversation, though 
 this was not always the case ; for much of the 
 neighbourhood was of a description to be awed by 
 the mere fact of a great house, and to take the shy- 
 ness of titled people for pride. Those with whom 
 they prospered best were a good-natured, merry old 
 dowager duchess, with whom they felt themselves 
 in the altitude to which they were accustomed at 
 Hurminster ; a loud-voiced, eager old squire, who 
 was bent on being Lord Northmoor's guide and 
 prompter in county business ; also an eager, gushing 
 lady, the echoes of whose communications made 
 Frank remark, after her departure, ' We must beware 
 of encouraging gossip about the former family.' 
 
 ' Oh, I wish I had the power of setting people 
 down when they say what is undesirable, like Miss 
 Lang, or Lady Adela ! ' sighed Mary. 
 
 ' Try to think of them like your school girls,' he 
 said.
 
 134 THAT STICK chap, xii 
 
 The returning of the calls was like continually 
 pulling the string of a shower-bath, and glad were 
 the sighs when people proved to be not at home ; 
 but on the whole, being entertained was not half so 
 formidable as entertaining, and a bride was not 
 expected to do more than sit in her white silk, 
 beside the host. 
 
 But the return parties were an incubus on 
 their minds. Only they were not to be till after 
 Christmas.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE DOWER HOUSE 
 
 Over the hearth of the drawing-room of the Dower 
 House, in the sociable twilight that had descended 
 on the afternoon tea-table, sat three ladies — for 
 Lady Adela and Miss Morton had just welcomed 
 Mrs. Bury, who, though she had her headquarters 
 in London, generally spent her time in visits to her 
 married daughters or expeditions abroad. 
 
 Amice had just exhibited her doll, Elmira's last 
 acquisition, a little chest of drawers, made of match- 
 boxes and buttons, that Constance Morton had 
 taught her to make, and then she had gone off to 
 put the said Elmira and her companions to bed,
 
 136 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 after giving it as her grave opinion that Lady North - 
 moor was a great acquisition. 
 
 ' Do you think so ? ' said Mrs. Bury, after the 
 laugh at the sedate expression. 
 
 ' She is very kind to Amice, and I do not think 
 she will do her any harm/ said Lady Adela. 
 
 ' Governessing was her metier,' added Bertha, ' so 
 it is not likely.' 
 
 'And how does it turn out ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, it might be a good deal worse. I see no 
 reason for not living on here.' 
 
 ' And you, Birdie ? ' 
 
 ' No, I couldn't ! I've been burning to get 
 away these seven years, and as Northmoor actually 
 seems capable of taking my boys, my last tie is 
 gone. I'm only afraid he'll bore them with too 
 much Sabbatarianism and temperance ! He is just 
 the cut of the model Sabbath-school teacher, onlv 
 he vexes Addie's soul by dashes of the Ritualist.'
 
 xin THE DOWER HOUSE 137 
 
 ' Well/ said Mrs. Bury, ' the excellent Mr. Wood- 
 man is capable of improvement.' 
 
 ' But how ? ' said Lady Adela. ' Narrow ritualism 
 without knowledge or principle is a thing to be 
 deprecated.' 
 
 ' Is it without knowledge or principle ? ' 
 
 ' How should an attorney's clerk get either ? ' 
 
 'But I understand you that they are worthy 
 people, and not obnoxious.' 
 
 ' Worthy ! ' exclaimed Bertha. ' Yes, worthy to 
 their stiff backbones, worthy to the point of utter 
 dulness ; they haven't got enough vulgarity even to 
 drop their h's or be any way entertaining. I should 
 like them ever so much better if they ate with their 
 knives and drank out of their saucers, but she can't 
 even mispronounce a French word worse than most 
 English people.' 
 
 ' No pretension even ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no ; if there were, one could get some fun
 
 138 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 out of it. I have heard of bearing honours meekly, 
 but they don't even do that, they just let them hang 
 on them, like the stick and stock they are. If I 
 were Addie, it would be the deadly liveliness that 
 would drive me away.' 
 
 ' Nay,' said Adela ; ' one grows to be content 
 with mere negations, if they are nothing worse. I 
 could be driven away, or at least find it an effort to 
 remain, if Lady Northmoor were like her sister-in- 
 law.' 
 
 ' Ah, now, that's just what would make it toler- 
 able to me. I could get a rise or two out of that 
 Mrs. Morton. I did get her to be confidential and 
 to tell me how much better the honours would have 
 sat upon her dear husband. I believe she thinks 
 that if he were alive he would have shared them 
 like the Spartan kings. She wishes that " her 
 brother, Lord Northmoor" (you should hear the tone), 
 " were more worldly, and she begs me to impress on
 
 xni THE DOWER HOUSE 139 
 
 him the duty of doing everything for her dear Her- 
 bert, who, in the nature of things, must be the heir 
 to the peerage.'" 
 
 ' I am sure I hope not,' said Lady Adela. ' He 
 is an insufferable boy. The people about the place 
 can't endure him. He is quite insolent.' 
 
 'The animal, man, when in certain stages of 
 development, has a peculiar tendency to be un- 
 pleasant,' observed Bertha philosophically. ' To my 
 mind, Master Herbert is the most promising of the 
 specimens.' 
 
 ' Birdie ! He is much worse than his uncle.' 
 
 'Promising, I said, not performing. Whatever 
 promise there may have been in Northmoor must 
 have been nipped upon the top of a high stool, but 
 if he has sense enough to put that boy into good 
 hands he may come to something. I like him 
 enough myself to feel half inclined to do what I can 
 towards licking him into shape, for the honour of
 
 140 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 the family ! It is that girl Ida that riles me 
 most.' 
 
 ' Yes/ said Lady Adela, ' she behaved fairly well 
 in company, but I saw her tittering and whispering 
 with Emily Trotman in a tone that I thought very 
 bad for Emily.' 
 
 ' She's spoilt ; her mother worships her,' said 
 Bertha. ' I had a pleasing confidence or two about 
 how she is already admired, or, as Mrs. Morton calls 
 it, how the gentlemen are after her ; but now she 
 shall not put up with anything but a real gentleman, 
 and of course her uncle will do something handsome 
 for her.' 
 
 ' Poor man ! I wish him joy. Has he more 
 belongings ? ' 
 
 ' Providentially, no. We have the honour of 
 standing nearest to him, and she seems to have 
 none at all, unless they should be attracted by the 
 scent.'
 
 xiii THE DOWER HOUSE 141 
 
 'That is not likely,' said Lady Adela ; 'she 
 was a clergy orphan, and never heard of any 
 relations.' 
 
 ' Then you really know no harm of them, in 
 these four or five months ? ' said Mrs. Bury. 
 
 ' No ; except having these relations,' said Adela. 
 
 ' Except being just sensible enough not to afford 
 even the pleasure of laughing at them,' said Bertha. 
 ' Nay, just worthy enough ' — she said it spitefully — 
 ' not even to give the relief of a good grumble.' 
 
 ' Well, I think you may be thankful ! ' 
 
 ' Exactly what one doesn't want to be ! ' said 
 Bertha. ' I like sensations. Now Letitia is going 
 to come down with a prediction that they are to 
 become the blessings of our lives, so I am off ! ' 
 
 And as the door closed on her, Lady Adela 
 sighed, and Mrs. Bury said — 
 
 ' Poor Birdie ; is she always in that tone ? ' 
 
 'Yes,' said Lady Adela; 'there seems to be
 
 142 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 always a bitter spot in her heart. I am glad she 
 should try to work it out.' 
 
 ' I suppose living here with her father tended to 
 brooding. Yet she has always done a good deal.' 
 
 ' Not up to her powers. Lord Northmoor never 
 ceased to think her a mere girl, and obstructed her 
 a good deal ; besides, all his interest being in horses, 
 she never could get rid of the subject, and wounds 
 were continually coming back on us — on her.' 
 
 ' On you as w T ell, poor Addie.' 
 
 ' He did not understand. Besides, to me these 
 things were not the raw scene they were to her. It 
 has been a very sad time for her. You see, there is 
 not much natural softness in her, and she was driven 
 into roughness and impatience when he worried her 
 over racing details and other things. And then she 
 was hurt at his preferring to have me with him. 
 It lias been very good and generous in her not 
 to have been jealous of me.'
 
 XIII THE DOWEK HOUSE 143 
 
 ' I think she was glad he could find comfort in 
 you. And you have never heard of Captain Alder?' 
 
 ' Never ! In justice, and for the sake of dear 
 Arthur's wishes, I should be glad to explain ; but I 
 wonder whether, as she is now, it would be well 
 that they should meet.' 
 
 'If it is so ordained, I suppose they will. 
 What's that ? ' 
 
 It was Lord and Lady Northmoor, formally an- 
 nounced, and as formally introduced, to Mrs. Bury. 
 
 They had come, the lady said, when they were 
 seated, with a message from ' Old Swan,' to ask for 
 a bit of my lady's plaster for his back to ease his 
 rheumatism at night. His daughter was only just 
 come in from work, so they had ventured to bring 
 the message. 
 
 ' Is any one coming for it ? ' 
 
 ' I said we would bring it back,' replied Mary, 
 ' if you would kindly let us have it.'
 
 IU THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' Why, it is a mile out of your way ! ' 
 ' It is moonlight, and we do so enjoy a walk 
 together,' she answered. 
 
 'Well, Adela,' said Mrs. Bury, when they were 
 gone with the roll of plaster, 'I agree that they 
 might be worse — and by a great deal ! ' 
 ' Did he speak all the time ? ' 
 ' Yes, once. But there are worse faults than 
 silence; and she seems a bonny little woman. 
 Honeymooning still — that moonlight walk too.' 
 
 ' I can fancy that it is a treat to escape from 
 Mrs. Morton. She is depths below them in refine- 
 ment ! ' 
 
 ' On the whole, I think you may be thankful, 
 Adela.' 
 
 ' I hope I am. I believe you would soon be 
 intimate with them ; but then you always could 
 get on with all sorts of people, and I have a shrink- 
 ing from getting under the surface — if I could.'
 
 xni THE DOWER HOUSE 145 
 
 And indeed, further intercourse, though not 
 without shocks and casualties, made Mary North - 
 moor wish that Letitia Bury had been the per- 
 manent inhabitant ; above all, when she undertook 
 to come and give her counsel and support for that 
 first tremendous undertaking — the dinner-party. 
 Lady Kenton was equally helpful at their next; 
 and Sir Edward gave much good advice to his lord- 
 ship as to not letting himself be made the tool of 
 the loud-voiced squire, who was anxious to be his 
 guide, philosopher, and friend in county business — 
 advice that made Frank's heart sink, for thus far he 
 felt only capable of sitting still and listening. 
 
 VOL. I
 
 CHAPTEK XIV 
 
 WESTHAVEN VERSIONS OF HONOURS 
 
 1 Thank you, a bit of partridge, Mr. Kollstone, if 
 you please.' 
 
 'Excuse me, Mrs. Grover. This is a grouse 
 from Lord Northnioor's own moors, I presume,' 
 replied Mr. Eollstone, to the tune of a peal of 
 laughter from Herbert and exclamation — 'Not 
 know a grouse !' — for which Ida frowned at him. 
 
 ' Yes, indeed,' said his mother ; ' we had so 
 much game up at my brother's, Lord North - 
 moor's, that I shall quite miss it now I am come 
 away.' 
 
 ' Flimsy sort of grub ! ' growled an old skipper.
 
 CHAP, xiv WESTHAVEN VERSIONS OF HONOURS 147 
 
 ' Only fit for this sort of a tea — not to make a real 
 meal on, fit for " a man " ! ' 
 
 The young folk laughed. Captain Purely was 
 only invited as a messmate of Mrs. Morton's father. 
 
 ■ You'll excuse this being only a tea,' went on 
 Mrs. Morton. ' I hope to have a dinner in some- 
 thing more of style if ever I return here, but I 
 could not attempt it with my present establishment 
 after what we have got accustomed to. Why, 
 we never sat down to dinner without two men- 
 servants ! ' 
 
 ' Only two ? ' said Mr. Eollstone. ' I have 
 never been without three men under me ; and I 
 always had two to wait, even when the lady dined 
 alone.' 
 
 Mrs. Grover, who had been impressed for a 
 moment, took courage to say — 
 
 ' I don't think so much of your grouse, Mrs. 
 Morton. It's tasty and 'igh.'
 
 148 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' High game goes with high families/ wickedly 
 murmured Herbert, causing much tittering at 
 his corner of the table ; and this grew almost 
 convulsive, while another matron of the party- 
 observed — 
 
 ' Mrs. Macdonald, Mr. Holt's sister in Scotland, 
 once sent us some, and really, Mrs. Morton, if you boil 
 them down, they are almost as good as a pat-ridge ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, really now, Mrs. Holt ! I hope you didn't 
 tell Mrs. Macdonald so ! ' said Mrs. Morton. ' It is 
 a real valuable article, such as my brother, Lord 
 Northmoor, would only send to us, and one or two 
 old friends that he wishes to compliment at Hur- 
 minster. But one must be used to high society to 
 know how such things should be relished ! ' 
 
 ' Are Lord Northmoor's moors extensive ? ' asked 
 Mr. Iiollstone. 
 
 ' There's about four or five miles of them,' re- 
 sponded Herbert ; ■ and these grouse are awfully shy.'
 
 xiv WESTHAVEN VERSIONS OF HONOURS 149 
 
 ' Ah, the Earl of Blackwing owns full twenty 
 miles of heather,' said the ex-butler. 
 
 ' Barren stuff ! ' growled the skipper ; ' breeding 
 nothing worth setting one's teeth into ! ' 
 
 'There are seven farms besides,' put in Mrs. 
 Morton. ' My brother is going to have an audit- clay 
 next week.' 
 
 'You should have seen the Earl's audits,' said 
 Mr. Eollstone. ' Five-and-twenty substantial tenant- 
 farmers, besides artisans, and all the family plate 
 on the sideboard ! ' 
 
 ' Ah, you should see the Northmoor plate ! ' said 
 Mrs. Morton. ' There are racing cups, four of them 
 — not that any one could drink out of them, for they 
 are just centre-pieces for the table. There's a man 
 in armour galloping off headlong with a girl behind 
 him ■ Who did your uncle say it was, Conny ? ' 
 
 ' The Templar and Eowena, mamma,' said Con- 
 stance.
 
 150 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 'Yes, that was the best — all frosted. I liked 
 that better than the one where the girl with no 
 clothes to speak of was running like mad after a 
 golden ball. They said that was an heirloom, worth 
 five hundred ' 
 
 ' Lord Burnside's yachting cups are valued at 
 five thousand,' said Mr. Eollstone. ' I should know, 
 for I had the care of them, and it was a respon- 
 sibility as weighed on my mind.' 
 
 So whatever Mrs. Morton described as to the 
 dignities and splendours of Northmoor, Mr. Eollstone 
 continued to cap with more magnificent experiences, 
 so that, though he never pretended to view himself 
 in the light of a participator in the grandeur he 
 described, he continued, quite unintentionally, so to 
 depreciate the glories of Northmoor, that Mrs. 
 Morton began to recollect how far above him her 
 sphere had become, and to decide against his future 
 admission to her parties.
 
 XIV WESTHAVEN VEKSIONS OF HONOUKS 151 
 
 The young ladies, as soon as tea was over, retired 
 into corners in pairs, having on their side much to 
 communicate. Eose Eollstone was at home for a 
 holiday, after having begun to work at an establish- 
 ment for art and ecclesiastical needlework, and it 
 was no small treat to her and Constance to meet 
 and compare their new experiences. Eose, always 
 well brought up by her father, was in a situation 
 carefully trained by a lady head, and watched over 
 by those who deepened and cultivated her religious 
 feeling; and Constance had to tell of the new 
 facilities of education offered to them. Ida was too 
 delicate for school, their mother said, and was only 
 to have music lessons at Brighton, or in London 
 whenever the present house could be parted with ; 
 but Herbert had already begun to work with a tutor 
 for the army, and Constance was to go to the High 
 School at Colbeam and spend her Sundays at North- 
 moor, where a prettily-furnished room was set apart
 
 152 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 for her. She described it with so much zest that 
 Eose was seized with a sort of alarm. ' You will 
 live there like all the lords and ladies that papa 
 talks of, and grow worldly and fashionable.' 
 
 'Oh no, no,' cried Constance, and there was a 
 girlish kissing match, but Eose seemed to think 
 worldliness inevitable. 
 
 ' The Earl my papa lived with used to bet and 
 gamble, and come home dreadfully late at night, 
 and so did my lady and her daughters, and their 
 poor maid had to sit up for them till four o'clock in 
 the morning. Then their bills ! They never told 
 his lordship, but they sold their diamonds and wore 
 paste. His lordship did not know, but their maid 
 did, and told papa.' 
 
 Constance opened her eyes and declared that 
 Uncle Frank and Aunt Mary never could do such 
 things. Moreover, she averred that Lady Adela 
 was always going about among the cottages, and
 
 xiv WESTHAVEN VERSIONS OF HONOURS 153 
 
 that Miss Morton had not a bit of pride, and was 
 going to live in London to teach the dust-pickers 
 and match-box makers. ' Indeed, I don't think 
 they are half as worldly in themselves,' she said, ' as 
 Ida is growing with thinking about them.' 
 
 ' Ah, don't you remember the sermon that said 
 worldliness didn't depend on what one has, but what 
 one is ? ' 
 
 ' Talking of nothing better than sermons ! ' said 
 Herbert, coming on them. ' Have you caught it of 
 the governor, Con ? I believe he thinks of nothing 
 but sermons.' 
 
 And Constance exclaimed, 'I am sure he doesn't 
 preach ! ' 
 
 ' Oh no, nothing comes out of his mouth that 
 he can help ; trust him for that.' 
 
 ' Then how do you know ? ' 
 
 ' By the stodgy look of him. He would be the 
 awfullest of prosers if he had the gift of the gab.'
 
 154 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' You are an ungrateful boy,' said Eose. ' I am 
 sure he must be very kind to you.' 
 
 ' Can't help it,' said Herbert. ' The old fellow 
 would be well enough if he had any go in him.' 
 
 ' I am sure he took you out hunting,' exclaimed 
 Constance indignantly, 'the day they took us to the 
 meet. And he leapt all the ditches when you ' 
 
 He broke in, ' Well, what was I to do when I've 
 never had the chance to learn to sit a horse ? 
 You'll see next winter.' 
 
 1 Did you hurt yourself ? ' asked Eose, rather 
 mischievously. 
 
 To which Herbert turned a deaf ear and began 
 to expatiate upon the game of ISTorthmoor, till other 
 sounds led him away to fall upon the other tete-d-tete 
 between Ida and Sibyl Grover. In Ida's mind the 
 honours of ISTorthmoor were dearly purchased by the 
 dulness and strictness of the life there. 
 
 ' My uncle was as cross as two sticks if ever
 
 XIV WESTHAVEN VERSIONS OF HONOURS 155 
 
 Herbert or I were too late for prayers, and lie said 
 it was nonsense of Herbert to say that kneeling at 
 church spoilt his trousers — kneeling just like a 
 school child ! It made me so faint ! ' 
 
 ' And it looks so ! ' 
 
 ' I tried, because Lady Adela and Miss Bertha 
 and all do,' said Ida, ' and they looked at me ! But 
 it made me faint, as I knew it would,' and she put 
 her head on one side. 
 
 ' Poor dear ! So they were so very religious ! 
 Did that spoil it all ? ' 
 
 ' Well, we had pretty things off the Christmas- 
 tree, and we lived quite as ladies, and drove out in 
 the carriage.' 
 
 • No parties nor dances ? Or were they too 
 religious ? ' 
 
 ' Ma says it is their meanness ; but my aunt, 
 Lady Northmoor, did say perhaps it would be livelier 
 another year, and then we should have had some
 
 156 THAT STICK chap.' 
 
 dancing and deportment lessons. I up and told her 
 I could dance fast enough now, but she said it 
 would not be becoming or right to Lady Adela's and 
 Miss Morton's feelings.' 
 
 ' Do they live there ? ' 
 
 ' Not in the house. Lady Adela has a cottage 
 of her own, and Miss Morton stops with her. Lady 
 Adela is as high and stand-offish as the monument,' 
 said Ida, pausing for a comparison. 
 
 ' High and haughty,' said Sibyl, impressed. ' And 
 the other lady ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, she is much more good-natured. We call 
 her Bertha; at least, she told us that we might call 
 her anything but that horrid Cousin Bertha, as she 
 said. But she's old, thirty-six years old, and not a 
 bit pretty, and she says such odd things, one doesn't 
 know what to do. She thought I made myself useful 
 and could wash and iron,' said Ida, as if this were the 
 greatest possible insult, in which Sibyl acquiesced.
 
 kiv WESTHAVEN VERSIONS OF HONOURS 157 
 
 ' And she thought I should know the factory 
 girls, just the hands/ added Ida, greatly disgusted. 
 'As if I should ! But ma says low tastes are in 
 the family, for she is going to live in London, and 
 go and sit with the shop-girls in the evening. Still 
 I like her better than Lady Adela, who keeps her- 
 self to herself. Mamma says it is pride and spite 
 that her plain little sickly girl hasn't come to be 
 my Lady.' 
 
 ' What, doesn't she speak to them ? ' said Sibyl, 
 quite excited. 
 
 ' Oh yes, she calls, and shakes hands, and all 
 that, but one never seems to get on with her. And 
 Emily Trotman, she's the doctor's daughter, such a 
 darling, told me such a history — so interesting ! ' 
 
 ' Tell me, Ida, there's a dear.' 
 
 ' She says they were all frightfully dissipated ' 
 (Ida said it quite with a relish) — ' the old Lord and 
 Mr. Morton, Lady Adela's husband, you know, and
 
 158 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 Miss Bertha — always racing and hunting and gamb- 
 ling and in debt. Then there came a Captain Alder, 
 who was ever so much in love with Miss Bertha, 
 but most awfully in debt to her brother, and very 
 passionate besides. So he took him out in his 
 dogcart with a fiery horse that was sure to run 
 away.' 
 
 ' Who did ? ' 
 
 ' Captain Alder took Mr. Morton, though they 
 begged and prayed him not, and the horse ran away 
 and Mr. Morton was thrown out and killed.' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' with extreme zest. ' On purpose ? ' 
 
 ' Miss Bertha was sure it was, so that she might 
 have all the fortune, and so she told him, and flung 
 the betrothal ring in his face, and he went right off, 
 and never has been heard of since.' 
 
 ' Well, that is interesting. Do you think he 
 shot himself ? ' 
 
 ' No, he was too mean. Most likely he married
 
 xiv WESTHAVEN VEKSIONS OF HONOURS 159 
 
 a hideous millionaire : but the Mortons were always 
 dreadful, and did all sorts of wicked things.' 
 
 'I declare it's as good as any tale — like the 
 sweet one in the Young Ladies' Friend now — " The 
 Pride of Pedro." Have you seen it ? ' 
 
 'No, indeed, uncle and aunt only have great old 
 stupid books ! They wanted rue to read those 
 horrid tiresome things of Scott's, and Dickens's too, 
 who is as old as the hills ! Why, they could not 
 think of anything better to do on their wedding 
 tour but to go to all the places in the Waverley 
 novels.' 
 
 1 Why, they are as bad as history ! Jim brought 
 one home once, and pa wanted me to read it, but 
 I could not get on with it — all about a stupid king 
 of France. I'm sure if I married a lord I'd make 
 him do something nicer.' 
 
 ' I mean ma to do something more jolly,' said 
 Ida, ' when we get more money, and I am come out.
 
 1G0 THAT STICK CHAP. 
 
 I mean to go to balls and tennis parties, and I shall 
 be sure to marry a lord at some of them.' 
 
 ' And you will take me,' cried Sibyl. 
 
 ' Only you must be very genteel,' said Ida. 
 ' Try to learn style, do, dear. It must be learnt 
 young, you know ! Why, there's Aunt Mary, 
 when she has got ever so beautiful a satin dress 
 on, she does not look half so stylish as Lady Adela 
 walking up the road in an old felt hat and a shep- 
 herd's-plaid waterproof! But they all do dress so 
 as I should be ashamed. Only think what a scrape 
 that got Herbert into. He was coming back one 
 Saturday from his tutor's, and he saw walking up 
 to the house an awfully seedy figure of fun, in an 
 old old ulster, and such a hat as you never saw, 
 with a knapsack on her back, and a portfolio under 
 her arm. So of course he thought it was a tranip 
 with something to sell, and he holloaed out, " You'd 
 better come out of this ! We want none of your
 
 xiv WESTHAVEN VEKSIONS OF HONOUKS 161 
 
 sort." She just turned round and laughed, which 
 put him in such a rage, that though she began to 
 speak he didn't wait, but told her to have done with 
 her sauce, or he would call the keepers. He thinks 
 she said, " You'd better," and I believe he did move 
 his stick a little.' 
 
 ' Ida, have done with that ! ' cried Herbert's voice 
 
 close to her. ' Hold your tongue, or I'll ' and 
 
 his hand was near her hair. 
 
 ' Oh, don't, don't, Herbert. Let me hear,' cried 
 Sibyl. 
 
 ' That's the way girls go on,' said Herbert 
 fiercely, ' with their nonsense and stuff.' 
 
 ' But who ? ' 
 
 ' If you go on, Ida ' he was clutching her 
 
 braid. 
 
 Sibyl sprang to the defence, and there was a 
 
 general struggle and romp interspersed with screams, 
 
 which was summarily stopped by Mr. Eollstone ex- 
 vol. i m
 
 162 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 plaining severely, ' If you think that is the deport- 
 ment of the aristocracy, Miss Ida, you are much 
 mistaken.' 
 
 ' Bother the aristocracy ! ' broke out Herbert. 
 
 Calm was restored by a summons to a round 
 game, but Sibyl's curiosity was of course insatiable, 
 and as she sat next to Herbert, she employed 
 various blandishments and sympathetic whispers, 
 and after a great deal of fuss, and ' What will you 
 give me if I tell ? ' to extract the end of the story, 
 ' Did he call the keeper ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes, the old beast ! His name's Best, but 
 it ought to be Beast ! He guffawed ever so much 
 worse than she did ! ' 
 
 ' Well, but who was it ? ' 
 
 And after he had tried to make her guess, and 
 teased his fill, he owned, ' Mrs. Bury — a sort of 
 cousin, staying with Lady Adela. She isn't half a 
 bad old party, but she makes a guy of herself, and
 
 xiv WESTIIAVEN VERSIONS OF HONOURS 163 
 
 goes about sketching and painting like a blessed old 
 dra win g-master. ' 
 
 ' A lady ? and not a young lady.' 
 
 'Not' as old as — as Methuselah, or old Eolypoly 
 there, but I believe she's a grandmother. If she'd 
 been a boy, we should have been cut out of it. 
 Oh yes, she's a lady — a born Morton ; and when it 
 was over she was very jolly about it — no harm 
 done — bears no malice, only Ida makes such an 
 absurd work about every little trifle.'
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE PIED ROOK 
 
 Constance Morton was leaning on the rail that 
 divided the gardens at Northmoor from the park, 
 which was still rough and heathery. Of all the 
 Morton family, perhaps she was the one who had 
 the most profited by the three years that had passed 
 since her uncle's accession to the title. She had 
 been at a good boarding-house, attending the High 
 School in Colbeam, and spending Saturday and 
 Sunday at Northmoor. It had been a happy life, 
 she liked her studies, made friends with her com- 
 panions, and enjoyed to the very utmost all that 
 Northmoor gave her, in country beauty and liberty,
 
 chap, xv THE PIED ROOK 165 
 
 in the kindness of her uncle and aunt, and in the 
 religious training that they were able to give her, 
 satisfying longings of her soul, so that she loved 
 them with all her heart, and felt Northmoor her 
 Lrue home. The holiday time at Westhaven was 
 always a trial. Mrs. Morton had tried Brighton 
 and London, but neither place agreed with Ida : and 
 she found herself a much greater personage in her 
 own world than elsewhere, and besides could not 
 always find tenants for her house. So there she 
 lived at her ease, called by many of her neighbours 
 the Honourable Mrs. Morton, and finding listeners 
 to her alternate accounts of the grandeur of North- 
 moor, and murmurs at the meanness of its master 
 in only allowing her £300 a year, besides educating 
 her children, and clothing two of them. 
 
 Ida considered herself to be quite sufficiently 
 educated, and so she was for the society in which 
 she was, or thought herself, a star, chiefly consisting
 
 166 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 of the families of the shipowners, coalowners, and 
 the like. She was pretty, with a hectic prettiness 
 of bright eyes and cheeks, and had a fallowing of 
 the young men of the place ; and though she always 
 tried to enforce that to receive attentions from a 
 smart young mate, a clerk in an office, a doctor's 
 assistant, or the like, was a great condescension on 
 her part, she enjoyed them all the more. Learning 
 new songs for their benefit, together with extensive 
 novel reading, were her chief employments, and it 
 was the greater pity because her health was not 
 strong. She dreamt much in a languid way, and 
 had imagination enough to work these tales into her 
 visions of life. Her temper suffered, and Constance 
 found the atmosphere less and less congenial as she 
 grew older and more accustomed to a different life. 
 
 She was a gentle, ladylike girl, with her brown 
 hair still on her shoulders, as on that summer 
 Saturday she stood looking along the path, but
 
 xv THE PIED ROOK 167 
 
 with her ears listening for sounds from the house, 
 and an anxious expression on her young face. 
 Presently she started at the sound of a gun, which 
 caused a mighty cawing among the rooks in the 
 trees on the slopes, and a circling of the black 
 creatures in the sky. A whistling then was heard, 
 and her brother Herbert came in sight in a few 
 minutes more, a fine tall youth of sixteen, with quite 
 the air and carriage of a gentleman. He had a gun 
 on his shoulder, and carried by the claws the body 
 of a rook with white wings. 
 
 ' Oh, Herbert,' cried Constance in dismay, ' did 
 you shoot that by mistake ? ' 
 
 ' No ; Stanhope would not believe there was such 
 a crittur, and betted half a sov that it was a cram.' 
 
 ' But how could you ? Our uncle and aunt 
 thought so much of that poor dear Whitewing, and 
 Best was told to take care of it. They will be so 
 vexed.'
 
 168 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' Nonsense ! He'll come to more honour stuffed 
 than ever he would flying and howling up there. 
 When I've shown him to Stanhope, I shall make 
 that old fellow at Colbeam come down handsomely 
 for him. What a row those birds kick up ! I'll 
 send my other barrel among them.' 
 
 ' Oh no, don't, Bertie. Uncle Frank has one of 
 his dreadful headaches to-day.' 
 
 ' Seems to me he is made of headaches.' 
 
 ' Yes, Aunt Mary is very anxious. Oh, I would 
 have done anything that you had not vexed them 
 now and killed this poor dear pretty thing ! ' said 
 Constance, stroking down the glossy feathers of the 
 still warm victim, and laying them against her 
 cheek, almost tearfully. 
 
 ' Well, you are not going to tell them. Perhaps 
 they won't miss it. I would not have done it if 
 Stanhope had not been such a beast,' said Herbert. 
 
 ' I shall not tell them, of course,' said Constance ;
 
 xv THE PIED ROOK 169 
 
 ' but, if I were you, I should not be happy till they 
 knew.' 
 
 ' Oh, that's only girl's way ! I can't have the old 
 Stick upset now, for I'm in horrid want of tin.' 
 
 ' Oh, Bertie, was it true then ? ' 
 
 ' What, you don't mean that they have heard ? ' 
 
 ' That you were out at those Colbeam races ! ' 
 
 ' To be sure I was, with Stanhope and Hailes 
 and a lot more. We all went except the little kids 
 and Sisson, who is in regular training for as great 
 a muff as the governor there. Who told him ? ' 
 
 ' Mr. Hailes, who is very much concerned about 
 his grandson.' 
 
 ' Old sneak ; I wonder how he ferreted it out. 
 Is there no end of a jaw coming, Con ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know. Uncle Frank seemed quite 
 knocked down and wretched over it. He said some- 
 thing about feeling hopeless, and the old blood 
 coming out to be your ruin.'
 
 170 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' Of course it's the old blood ! How did he miss it, 
 and turn into the intolerable old dry fogey that he is, 
 without a notion of anything fit for a gentleman ? ' 
 
 ' Now, Herbert ' 
 
 ' Oh yes. You should just hear what the other 
 fellows say about him. Their mothers and their 
 sisters say there is not so stupid a place in the 
 county, he hasn't a word to say for himself, and 
 they would just as soon go to Portland at once as 
 to a party here.' 
 
 ' Then it is a great shame ! I am sure Aunt 
 Mary works hard to make it pleasant for them ! ' 
 
 1 Oh yes, good soul, she does, she can't help it ; 
 but when people have stuck in the mud all their 
 lives, they can't know any better, and it is abomin- 
 ably hard on a fellow who does, to be under a man 
 who has been an office cad all his life, and doesn't 
 know what is expected of a gentleman ! Screwing 
 us all up like beggars '
 
 xv THE PIED ROOK 171 
 
 ' Herbert, for shame ! for shame ! As if he was 
 obliged to do anything at all for us ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, isn't he ? A pretty row my mother 
 would kick up about his ears if he did not, when I 
 must come after him at this place, too ! ' 
 
 ' 1 think you are very ungrateful,' said Constance, 
 with tears, : when they are so good to us.' 
 
 ' Oh, they are as kind as they know how, but 
 they don't know. That's the thing, or old Frank 
 would be ashamed to give me such a dirty little 
 allowance. He has only himself to thank if I have 
 to come upon him for more. Found out about the 
 Blackbird colt, has he ? What a bore ! And 
 tin I must have out of him by hook or by crook 
 if he cuts up ever so rough. I must send off 
 this bird first by the post to confute Stanhope and 
 make him eat dirt, and then see what's to be 
 done.' 
 
 ' Indeed, Bertie, I don't think you will see him
 
 172 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 to-night. His head is dreadful, and Aunt Mary lias 
 sent for Mr. Trotman.' 
 
 ' Whew ! You have not got anything worth 
 having, I suppose, Conny ? ' 
 
 1 Only fifteen shillings. I meant it for 
 
 But you shall have it, dear Bertie, if it will only 
 save worrying them.' 
 
 ' Fifteen bob ! Fifteen farthings you might as well 
 offer. No, no, you soft little monkey, I must see 
 what is to be made of him or her ladyship, one or 
 the other, to-day or to-morrow. If they know I have 
 been at the place it is half the battle. Consequence 
 was ! Provided they don't smell out this unlucky pie- 
 bald ! I wish Stanhope hadn't been such a beast ! ' 
 
 At that moment, too late to avoid her, Lady 
 Nbrthmoor, pale and anxious, came up the path 
 and was upon them. ' Your uncle is asleep,' she 
 began, but then, starting, ' Oh, Conny. Poor White- 
 wing. Did you find him ? '
 
 XV 
 
 THE PIED ROOK 173 
 
 Constance hung her head and did not speak. 
 Then her aunt saw how it was. 
 
 ' Herbert ! you must have shot him by mistake ; 
 your uncle will be so grieved.' 
 
 Herbert was not base enough to let this pass. 
 He muttered, ' A fellow would not take my word for 
 it, so I had to show him.' 
 
 She looked at him very sadly. ' Oh, Herbert, I 
 did not think you would have made that a reason 
 for vexing your uncle ! ' 
 
 The boy was more than half sorry under those 
 gentle eyes. He muttered something about ' didn't 
 think he would care.' 
 
 She shook her head, instead of saying that she 
 knew this was not the truth ; and unable to bear 
 the sting, he flung away from her, carrying the rook 
 with him, and kicking the pebbles, trying to be 
 angry instead of sorry. And just then came a 
 summons to Lady Northmoor to see the doctor.
 
 174 THAT STICK 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 Yet Herbert Morton was a better boy than he 
 seemed at that moment ; his errors were chiefly 
 caused by understanding noblesse oblige in a different 
 way from his uncle. Moreover, it would have been 
 better for him if his tutor had lived beyond the 
 neighbourhood of Northmoor, where he heard, losing 
 nothing in the telling, the remarks of the other 
 pupils' mothers upon his uncle and aunt ; more 
 especially as it was not generally the highest order 
 of boy that was to be found there. If he had heard 
 what the fathers said, lie would have learnt that 
 though shy and devoid of small talk, and of the art 
 of putting guests together, Lord Northmoor was 
 trusted and esteemed. He might perhaps be too 
 easily talked down ; he could not argue, and often 
 gave way to the noisy Squire ; but he was certain 
 in due time to see the rights of a question, and he 
 attended thoroughly to the numerous tasks of an 
 active and useful county man, taking all the
 
 xv THE PIED ROOK 175 
 
 drudgery that others shirked. While, if by severe 
 stress he were driven to public speaking, he could 
 acquit himself far better than any one had expected. 
 The Bishop and the Chairman of the Quarter 
 Sessions alike set him down on their committees, 
 not only for his rank, but for his industry and 
 steadiness of work. Nor had any one breathed any 
 imputation upon the possession of what used to be 
 known as gentility, before that good word was 
 degraded, to mean something more like what Mrs. 
 Morton aspired to. Lord and Lady Northmoor 
 might not be lively, nor a great accession to society, 
 but the anticipations of either amusement or annoy- 
 ance from vulgarity or arrogance were entirely 
 disappointed. No one could call them underbred, 
 or anything but an ingrain gentleman and lady, 
 while there were a few who could uphold Lady 
 Northmoor as thoroughly kind, sweet, sensible, and 
 helpful to her utmost in all that was good.
 
 176 THAT STICK chap, xv 
 
 All this, however, was achieved not only un- 
 consciously but with severe labour by a man whose 
 powers could only act slowly, and who was not to 
 the manner born. Conscientiousness is a costly 
 thing, and Strafford's watchword is not to be 
 adopted for nothing. The balance of duties, the 
 perplexities of managing an impoverished and in- 
 volved estate, the disappointment of being unable 
 to carry out the responsibilities of a landlord towards 
 neglected cottagers, the incapacity of doing what 
 would have been desirable for the Church, and the 
 worry and harass that his sister-in-law did not 
 spare, all told as his office work had never done, 
 and in spite of cpiiiet, happy hours with his Mary, 
 and her devoted and efficient aid whenever it 
 was possible, a course of disabling neuralgic head- 
 aches had set in, and a general derangement of 
 health, which had become alarming, and called for 
 immediate remedy.
 
 CHAPTEK XVI 
 
 WHAT IS EEST? 
 
 Best, there is nothing for it but immediate rest 
 
 and warm baths,' said Lady Northmoor to Constance, 
 
 who was waiting anxiously for the doctor's verdict 
 
 some hours later. ' It is only being overdone — no, 
 
 my dear, there is nothing really to fear, if we can 
 
 only keep business and letters out of his way for a 
 
 few weeks, my dear child.' 
 
 For Constance, who had been dreadfully frightened 
 
 by the sight of the physician's carriage, which seemed 
 
 to her inexperienced eyes the omen of something 
 
 terrible, fairly burst into tears of relief. 
 
 ' Oh, I am so glad ! ' she said, as caresses passed 
 VOL. I N
 
 178 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 — which might have been those of mother and 
 daughter for heartfelt sympathy and affection. 
 
 1 You will miss your Saturdays and Sundays, 
 my dear,' continued the aunt, ' for we shall have to 
 go abroad, so as to be quite out of the way of every- 
 thing.' 
 
 ' Never mind that, dear aunt, if only Uncle Frank 
 is better. Will it be long ? ' 
 
 ' 1 cannot tell. He says six weeks, Dr. Smith 
 says three months. It is to be bracing air — 
 Switzerland, most likely.' 
 
 ' Oh, how delightful ! How you will en- 
 joy it ! ' 
 
 ' It has always been a dream, and it is strange 
 now to feel so downhearted about it,' said her aunt, 
 smiling. 
 
 ' Uncle Frank is sure to be better there,' said 
 Constance. 'Only think of the snowy mount- 
 ains —
 
 xvi WHAT IS REST ? 179 
 
 Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains ; 
 
 They crown' d him long ago 
 On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, 
 
 "With a diadem of snow.' 
 
 And the girl's eyes brightened with an enthusiasm 
 that the elder woman felt for a moment, nor did 
 either of them feel the verse hackneyed. 
 
 'Ah, I wish we could take you, my dear,' said 
 Lady Northinoor ; then, ' Do you know where 
 Herbert is ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Constance. ' Oh, aunt, I am so sorry ! 
 I don't think he would have done it if the other 
 boys had not teased him.' 
 
 ' Perhaps not ; but, indeed, I am grieved, not 
 only on the poor rook's account, but that he should 
 have the heart to vex your uncle just now. How- 
 ever, perhaps he did not understand how ill he has 
 been all this week. And I am afraid that young 
 Stanhope is not a good companion for him.' 
 
 ' I do not think he is,' said Constance : ' it
 
 180 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 seems to rne that Stanhope leads him into that 
 betting, and makes him think it does not signify 
 whether he passes or not, and so he does not take 
 pains.' 
 
 Herbert was not to be found either then or at 
 dinner-time. It turned out that he had taken from 
 the stables the horse he was allowed to ride, and 
 had gone over to display his victim to Stanhope, and 
 then on to the bird-stuffer ; had got a meal, no one 
 wished to know how, only returning in time to 
 stump upstairs to bed. 
 
 He thus avoided an interview with his uncle 
 over the rook, unaware that his aunt had left him 
 the grace of confession, being in hopes that, unless 
 he did speak of his own accord, the vexatious know- 
 ledge might be spared to one who did not need an 
 additional annoyance just then. 
 
 Lord Northmoor was not, however, to be spared. 
 He was much better the next day, Sunday, a good
 
 XVI WHAT IS BEST ? 181 
 
 deal exhilarated by the doctor's opinion ; and, though 
 concerned at having to break off his work, ready to 
 enjoy what he was told was absolutely essential. 
 
 The head-keeper had no notion of sparing him. 
 Mr. Best regarded him with a kind of patronising 
 toleration as an unfortunate gentleman who had the 
 ill-hap never to have acquired a taste for sport, and 
 was unable to do justice to his preserves ; but 
 towards ' Mr. Morton ' there was a very active dis- 
 like. The awkward introduction might have rankled 
 even had Herbert been wise enough to follow Miss 
 Morton's advice ; but his nature was overbearing, 
 and his self-opinion was fostered by his mother and 
 Ida, while he was edged on by his fellow-pupils to 
 consider Best a mere old woman, who could only be 
 tolerated by the ignorance of ' a regular Stick.' 
 
 With the under - keeper Herbert fraternised 
 enough to make him insubordinate ; and the days 
 when Lord Northmoor gave permission for shooting. 
 
 O'
 
 182 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 or for inviting his companions for a share in the 
 sport, were days of mutual offence, when the balance 
 of provoking sneer and angry insult would be 
 difficult to cast, though the keeper was the most 
 forbearing, since he never complained of personal 
 ill -behaviour to himself, whereas Herbert's demon- 
 strations to his uncle of ' that old fool ' were the 
 louder and more numerous because they never 
 produced the slightest effect. 
 
 However, Best felt aggrieved in the matter of 
 the rook, which had been put under his special 
 protection, and being, moreover, something of a 
 naturalist, he had cherished the hope of a special 
 Northmoor breed of pied rooks. 
 
 So while, on the way from church, Lady Adela 
 w;is detaining Lady Northmoor with inquiries as to 
 Dr. Smith, Best waylaid his master with, 'Your 
 lordship gave me orders about that there rook with 
 white wings, as was not to be mislested.'
 
 XVI WHAT IS REST ? 183 
 
 'Has anything happened to it?' said Frank wearily. 
 
 'Well, my lord, I sees Mr. Morton going up to 
 the rookery with his gun, and I says to him that it 
 weren't time for shooting of the branchers, and the 
 white rook weren't to be touched by nobody, and 
 he swears at me for a meddling old leggings, and 
 uses other language as I'll not repeat to your lord- 
 ship, and by and by I hears his gun, and I sees him 
 a-picking up of the rook that her ladyship set such 
 store by, so it is due to myself, my lord, to let you 
 know as I were not to blame.' 
 
 ' Certainly not, Best,' was the reply. ' I am 
 exceedingly displeased that my nephew has behaved 
 so ill to you, and I shall let him know it.' 
 
 ' His lordship will give it to him hot and strong, 
 the young upstart,' muttered Best to himself with 
 great satisfaction, as he watched the languid pace 
 quicken to overtake the boy, who had gone on with 
 his sister.
 
 184 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 Perhaps the irritability of illness had some effect 
 upon the ordinary gentleness of Lord Northmoor's 
 temper, and besides, he was exceedingly annoyed at 
 such ungrateful slaughter of what was known to be 
 a favourite of his wife ; so when he came upon 
 Herbert, sauntering down to the stables, he accosted 
 him sharply with, ' What is this I hear, Herbert ? 
 I could not have believed that you would have 
 deliberately killed the creature that you knew to be 
 a special delight to your aunt.' 
 
 Herbert had reached the state of mind when a 
 third, if not a fourth, reproach on the same subject 
 on which his conscience was already uneasy, was 
 simply exasperating, and without the poor excuse 
 he had offered his aunt and sister, he burst out that 
 it was very hard that such a beastly row should be 
 made about a fellow knocking down mere trumpery 
 vermin. 
 
 1 Speak properly, Herbert, or hold your tongue,'
 
 xvi WHAT IS REST? - 185 
 
 said his uncle. ' I am extremely displeased at find- 
 ing that you do not know how to conduct yourself 
 to my servants, and have presumed to act in this 
 lawless, heartless manner, in defiance of what you 
 knew to be your aunt's wishes and my orders, and 
 that you replied to Best's remonstrance with in- 
 solence.' 
 
 ' That's a good one ! Insolent to an old fool of 
 a keeper,' muttered Herbert sullenly. 
 
 ' Insolence is shameful towards any man,' returned 
 his uncle. ' And from a foolish headstrong boy to 
 a faithful old servant it is particularly unbecoming. 
 However, bad as this is, it is not all that I have to 
 speak of.' 
 
 Then Herbert recollected with dismay how much 
 his misdemeanour would tell against his pardon for 
 the more important act of disobedience, and he took 
 refuge in a sullen endeavour at indifference, while 
 his uncle, thoroughly roused, spoke of the sins of
 
 186 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 disobedience and the dangers of betting. Perhaps 
 the only part of the lecture that he really heard 
 was, ' Eemember, it was these habits in those who 
 came before us that have been so great a hindrance 
 in life to both you and me, and made you, my poor 
 boy, so utterly mistaken as to what becomes your 
 position. How much have you thrown away ? ' 
 
 Herbert looked up and muttered the amount — 
 twelve pounds and some shillings. 
 
 ' Very well, I will not have it owed. I shall 
 pay it, deducting two pounds from your allowance 
 each term till it is made up. Give me the address 
 or addresses.' 
 
 At this Herbert writhed and remonstrated, but 
 his uncle was inexorable. 
 
 ' The fellows will be at me,' He said, as he gave 
 Stanhope's name. 
 
 ' You will see no more of Stanhope after this 
 week. I have arranged to send you to a tutor in
 
 XVI WHAT IS KEST ? 187 
 
 Hertfordshire, who I hope will make you work, and 
 where, I trust, you will find companions who will 
 give you a better idea of what becomes a gentleman.' 
 
 In point of fact, this had been arranged for 
 some time past, though by the desire of Herbert's 
 present tutor it had not been made known to the 
 young people, so that, coining thus, there was a 
 sound of punishment in it to Herbert. 
 
 The interview ended there. The annoyance, en- 
 hanced in his mind by having come on a Sunday, 
 brought on another attack of headache ; but late in 
 the evening he sent for Herbert, who always had to 
 go very early on the Monday. It was to ask him 
 whether he would not prefer the payment being 
 made to Stanhope and the other pupil after he had 
 left them. Herbert's scowl passed off. It was a 
 great relief. He said they were prepared to wait 
 till he had his allowance, and the act of considera- 
 tion softened him, as did also the manifest look of
 
 188 THAT STICK chap, xvi 
 
 suffering and illness, as his uncle lay on the couch, 
 hardly able to speak, and yet exerting himself thus 
 to spare the lad. 
 
 ' Thank you, sir,' actually Herbert said, and then, 
 with a gulp, ' I am sorry about that bird — I wish 
 I'd never told them, but it was Stanhope who drove 
 me to it, not believing.' 
 
 ' I thought it was not your better mind,' said his 
 uncle, holding out his hand. ' I should like you to 
 make me a promise, Herbert, not to make a bet 
 while I am away. I should go with an easier mind.' 
 
 'I will, uncle,' said Herbert, heartily reflecting, 
 perhaps, it must be owned, on the fewer oppor- 
 tunities in that line at Westhaven, except at the 
 regatta, but really resolving, as the only salve to his 
 conscience. And there was that in his face and 
 the clasp of his hand that gave his uncle a sense of 
 comfort and hope.
 
 CHAP^EE XVII 
 
 ON THE SUKFACE 
 
 Lady Adela, though small and pale, was one of the 
 healthy women who seem unable to believe in any 
 ailments short of a raging fever ; and when she 
 heard of neuralgia, decided that it was all a matter 
 of imagination, and a sort of excuse for breaking off 
 the numerous occupations in which she felt his 
 value, but only as she would have acknowledged 
 that of a good schoolmaster. Their friendly inter- 
 course had never ripened into intimacy, and was 
 still punctiliously courteous ; each tacitly dreaded 
 the influence of the other on the Yicar-in-Church 
 matters, and every visit of the Westhaven family
 
 190 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 confirmed Lady Adela's belief that it was undesirable 
 to go below the surface. 
 
 Bertha, who came down for a day or two to 
 assist at the breaking -up demonstration of the 
 High School at Colbeam, was as ever much more 
 cordial. The chief drawbacks with her were that 
 cynical tone, which made it always doubtful whether 
 she were making game of her hearers, and the phil- 
 anthropy, not greatly tinged with religion, so as to 
 confuse old-fashioned minds. She used to bring 
 down strange accounts of her startling adventures 
 in the slums, and relate them in a rattling style, 
 interluded with slang, being evidently delighted to 
 shock and puzzle her hearers ; but still she was 
 always good-natured in deed if not in word, and 
 Lord Northmoor was very grateful for her offer of 
 hospitality to Herbert, who was coming to London 
 for his preliminary examination. 
 
 She had come up to call, determined to be of use
 
 xvn ON THE SURFACE 191 
 
 to them, and she had experience enough of travelling 
 to be very helpful. Finding that they .shuddered at 
 the notion of fashionable German ' baden' she ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 ' I'll hit you off ! There's that place in the 
 Austrian Tyrol that Lettice Bury frequents — a 
 regular primitive place with a name — Oh, what 
 is it, Addie, like rats and mice ? ' 
 
 ' Eatzes,' said Adela. 
 
 ' Yes. The tourists have not molested it yet, 
 and only natives bathe there, so she goes every 
 year to renovate herself and sketch, and comes 
 back furbished up like an old snake, with lots of 
 drawings of impossible peaks, like Titian's back- 
 grounds. We'll write and tell her to make ready for 
 the head of her house ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, but ' began Frank, looking to his wife. 
 
 ' Would it not be intruding ? ' said Mary. 
 
 ' She will be enchanted ! She always likes to
 
 192 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 have anything to do for anybody, and she says the 
 scenery is just a marvel. You care for that ! You 
 are so deliriously fresh, beauties aren't a bore to you.' 
 
 ' We are glad of the excuse,' said Frank gravely. 
 
 ' You look ill enough to be an excuse for any- 
 thing, and Mary too ! How about a maid ? Is 
 Harte going ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Mary ; ' she says that foreign food 
 made her so ill once before that she cannot attempt 
 going again. I meant to do without.' 
 
 ' That would never do ! ' cried Bertha. ' You 
 have quite enough on your hands with Northmoor, 
 and the luggage and the languages.' 
 
 ' Is not an English maid apt to be another 
 trouble ? ' said Mary. ' I do not suppose my French 
 is good, but I have had to talk it constantly ; and 
 I know some German, if that will serve in the Tyrol.' 
 
 ' I'll reconcile it to your consciences,' said Bertha 
 triumphantly. ' It will be a real charity. There's
 
 xvii ON THE SUEFACE 193 
 
 a bonny little Swiss girl whom some reckless people 
 
 brought home and then turned adrift. It will be a 
 
 real kindness to help her home, and you shall pick 
 
 her up when you come up to me on your way, and 
 
 see my child ! Oh, didn't I tell you ? We had a 
 
 housemaid once who was demented enough to marry 
 
 a scamp of a stoker on one of the Thames steamers. 
 
 He deserted her, and I found her living, or rather 
 
 dying, in an awful place at Botherhithe, surrounded 
 
 by tipsy women, raging in opposite corners. I got 
 
 her into a decent room, but too late to save her 
 
 life — and a good thing too ; so I solaced her last 
 
 moments with a promise to look after her child, 
 
 such a jolly little mortal, in spite of her name — 
 
 Boaclicea Ethelind Davidina Jones. She is two 
 
 years old, and quite delicious — the darling of all 
 
 the house ! ' 
 
 ' I hope you will have no trouble with the father,' 
 
 said Frank. 
 
 vol. i o
 
 194 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' I trust he has gone to his own locker, or, if not, 
 he is only too glad to be rid of her. I can tackle 
 him/ said Bertha confidently. ' The child is really 
 a little duck ! ' 
 
 She spoke as if the little one filled an empty 
 space in her heart ; and, even though there might 
 be trouble in store, it was impossible not to be glad 
 of her present gladness, and her invitation was 
 willingly accepted. Moreover, her recommendations 
 were generally trustworthy, and Mary only hesitated 
 because, she said — 
 
 ' I thought, if I could do without a maid, we 
 might take Constance. She is doing so very well, 
 and likely to pass so well in her examinations, that 
 it would be very nice to give her this pleasure.' 
 
 ' Good little girl ! So it would. I should like 
 nothing better ; but I am afraid that if you took 
 her without a maid, Emma would misunderstand it, 
 and say you wanted to save the expense.'
 
 xvn . ON THE SURFACE 195 
 
 ' Would it make much difference ? ' 
 
 ' Not more than we could bear now that we are 
 in for it, hut I fear it would excite jealousies.' 
 
 ' Is that worse than leaving the poor child to 
 Westhaven society all the holidays ? ' 
 
 ' Perhaps not ; and Conny is old enough now to 
 be more injured by it than when she was younger.' 
 
 ' You know I have always hoped to make her 
 like a child of our own when her school education 
 is finished.' 
 
 Frank smiled, for he was likewise very fond of 
 little Constance. 
 
 There was a public distribution of prizes, at 
 which all the grandees of the neighbourhood were 
 expected to assist, and it was some consolation to 
 the Northmoors, for the dowager duchess being 
 absent, that the pleasure of taking the prize from 
 her uncle would be all the greater — if 
 
 The whole party went — Lady Adela, Miss Mor-
 
 196 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ton, and all — and were installed in chairs of state 
 on the platform, with the bright array of books 
 before them — the head-mistress telling Lady North - 
 moor beforehand that her niece would have her full 
 share of honours. No one could be a better or more 
 diligent girl. 
 
 It quite nerved Lord Northmoor when he looked 
 forth upon the sea of waving tresses of all shades of 
 brown, while his wife watched in nervousness, both 
 as to how he would acquit himself and how the 
 exertion would affect him ; and Bertha, as usual, 
 was anxious for the credit of the name. 
 
 He did what was needed. Nobody wanted any- 
 thing but the sensible commonplace, kindly spoken, 
 about the advantages of good opportunities, the con- 
 scientiousness of doing one's best. And after all, 
 the inferiority of mere attainments in themselves to 
 the discipline and dutifulness of responding to train- 
 ing, — it was slowly but not stammeringly spoken,
 
 xvii ON THE SURFACE 197 
 
 and Bertha did not feel critical or ashamed, but 
 squeezed Mary's hand, and said, ' Just the right 
 thing.' 
 
 One by one the girls were summoned for their 
 prizes, the little ones first. Lord Northmoor had 
 not the gift of inventing a pretty speech for each, 
 he could do no more than smile as he presented the 
 book, and read its name ; but the smile was a very 
 decided one when, in the class next to the highest, 
 three out of the seven prizes were awarded to Con- 
 stance Elizabeth Morton, and it might be a question 
 which had the redder cheeks, the uncle or the niece, 
 as he handed them to her. It was one of the few 
 happinesses that he had derived from his brother's 
 family ! 
 
 After such achievements on Constance's part, it 
 was impossible to withhold — as they drove back to 
 Northmoor — the proposal to take her with them, and 
 the effect was magical. Constance opened her eyes,
 
 198 THAT STICK chap, xvii 
 
 bounded up, as if she were going to fly out of the 
 carriage, and then launched herself, first on her 
 uncle, then on her aunt, for an ecstatic kiss. 
 
 ' Take care, take care, we shall have the servants 
 thinking you a little lunatic ! ' 
 
 ' I am almost ! Oh, I am so glad ! To be 
 with you and Aunt Mary all the holidays ! That 
 would be enough ! But to go and see all the places,' 
 she added, somehow perceiving that the desire to 
 escape from home was, at least ought not to be 
 approved of, and yet there was some exultation 
 when she hazarded a supposition that there was no 
 time to go home.
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII 
 
 DESDICHADO 
 
 Home — that is to say, Westhaven — was in some 
 commotion when Herbert came back and grimly 
 growled out his intelligence as to his own personal 
 affairs. Mrs. Morton had been already apprized, in 
 one of Lord Northmoor's well-considered letters, of 
 his intentions of removing his nephew to a tutor 
 more calculated to prepare for the army, and she 
 had accepted this as promotion such as was his due. 
 However, when the pride of her heart, the tall 
 gentlemanly son, made his appearance in a savage 
 mood, her feelings were all on the other side, and 
 those of Ida exaggerated hers.
 
 200 THAT STICK 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 ' So I'm to go to some disgusting hole where 
 they grind the fellows no end,' was Herbert's 
 account of the matter. 
 
 ' But surely with your connection there's no need 
 for grinding ? ' said his mother. 
 
 Herbert laughed, ' Much you know about it ! 
 Nobody cares a rap for connections nowadays, even 
 if old Frank were a connection to do a man any good.' 
 
 'But you'll not go and study hard and hurt 
 yourself, my dear,' said his mother, though Her- 
 bert's looks by no means suggested any such 
 danger, while Ida added, ' It is not as if he had 
 nothing else to look to, you know. He can't keep 
 you out of the peerage.' 
 
 ' Can't he then ? Why, he can and will too, for 
 thirty or forty years more at least.' 
 
 ' I thought his health was failing,' said Ida, 
 putting into words a hope her mother had a little 
 too much sense of propriety to utter.
 
 XVIII DESDICHADO 201 
 
 ' Bosh, it's only neuralgia, just because he is 
 such a stick he can't take things easy, and lark 
 about and do every one's work — he hasn't the least 
 notion what a gentleman ought to do.' 
 
 ' It is bred in the bone/ said his mother ; ' he 
 always was a shabby poor creature ! I always said 
 he would not know how to spend his money.' 
 
 ' He is a regular screw ! ' responded Herbert. 
 ' What do you think now ! He was in no end of a 
 rage with me just because I went with some of the 
 other fellows to the Colbeam races; and one can't 
 help a bet or two, you know. So I lost twelve 
 pound or so, and what must he do but stop it out 
 of my allowance two pound at a time ! ' 
 
 There was a regular outcry at this, and Mrs. 
 Morton declared her poor dear boy should not suffer, 
 but she would make it up to him, and Herbert 
 added that ' it had been unlucky, half of it was that 
 they were riled with him, first because he had shot
 
 202 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 a ridiculous rook with white wings that my lady 
 made no end of a fuss about.' 
 
 ' Ah, then it is her spite/ said Ida. ' She's a sly 
 cat, with all her meek ways.' 
 
 Herbert was not displeased with this evening's 
 sympathy, as he lay outspread on the sofa, with the 
 admiring and pitying eyes of his mother and sister 
 upon him ; but he soon began to feel — when he had 
 had his grumble out, and could take his swing at 
 home — that there could be too much of it. 
 
 It was all very well to ease his own mind by 
 complaining, but when he heard of Ida announcing 
 that he had been shamefully treated, all out of spite 
 for killing a white rook, his sense of justice made 
 him declare that the notion was nothing but girl's 
 folly, such as no person with a grain of sense could 
 believe. 
 
 The more his mother and her friends persisted 
 in treating him as an ill-used individual, the victim
 
 xvill DESDICHADO 203 
 
 of his uncle's avarice and his aunt's spite, the more 
 his better nature revolted and acknowledged in- 
 wardly and sometimes outwardly the kindness and 
 justice he had met with. It was really provoking 
 that any attempt to defend them, or explain the 
 facts, were only treated as proofs of his own generous 
 feeling. Ida's partisanship really did him more 
 good than half a dozen lectures would have done, 
 and he steadily adhered to his promise not to bet, 
 though on the regatta day Ida and her friend Sibyl 
 derided him for not choosing to risk even a pair of 
 gloves ; and while one pitied him, the other declared 
 that he was growing a skinflint like his uncle. 
 
 He talked and laughed noisily enough to Ida's 
 friends, but he had seen enough at Northmoor to 
 feel the difference, and he told his sister that there 
 was not a lady amongst the whole kit of them, except 
 Eose Kollstone, who was coming down for her holiday. 
 
 ' Eose ! ' cried Ida, tossing her head. ' A servant's
 
 204 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 daughter and a hand at a shop ! What will you 
 say next, I wonder ? ' 
 
 ' Lady is as lady acts,' said Herbert, making a 
 new proverb, whereat his mother and sister in chorus 
 rebuked him, and demanded to know whether Ida 
 were not a perfect lady. 
 
 At which he laughed with a sound of scoffing, 
 and being tired of the discussion sauntered out 
 of the house to that inexhaustible occupation of 
 w T atching the boats come in, and smoking with old 
 acquaintances, who w T ere still congenial to him, and 
 declared that he had not become stuck-up, though 
 he was turned into an awful swell ! Perhaps they 
 were less bad for him than Stanhope, for they 
 inspired no spirit of imitation. 
 
 When he came back a later post had arrived, 
 briiiLrinrr the news of Constance's successes and of 
 
 O O 
 
 the invitation to her to share the expedition of her 
 uncle and aunt. There was no question about
 
 xvin DESDICHADO 205 
 
 letting her go, but the feeling was scarcely of 
 congratulation. 
 
 ' Well, little Conny knows how to play her cards ! ' 
 
 'Stuff — child wouldn't know what it meant,' 
 said Herbert glumly. 
 
 ' Well,' said his sister, ' she always was the 
 favourite, and I call it a shame.' 
 
 ' What, because you've been such a good girl, 
 and got such honours and prizes ? ' demanded 
 Herbert. 
 
 ' Nonsense, Herbert,' said his mother. ' Ida's 
 education was finished, you know.' 
 
 ' Oh, she wasn't a bit older than Conny is now.' 
 
 ' And I don't hold with all that study, science 
 and logic, and what d'ye call it ; that's no use to 
 any one,' continued his mother. ' It's not as if 
 your sisters had to be governesses. Give me a girl 
 who can play a tune on the piano and make herself 
 agreeable. Your uncle may do as he pleases, but
 
 206 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 he'll have Constance on his hands. The men don't 
 fancy a girl that is always after books and lectures.' 
 
 ' Not of your sort, perhaps/ said Herbert, ' but I 
 don't care what I bet that Conny gets a better 
 husband than Ida.' 
 
 ' It stands to reason,' Ida said, almost crying, 
 ' when uncle takes her about to all these fine places 
 and sets her up to be the favourite — just the 
 youngest. It's not fair.' 
 
 ' As if she wasn't by a long chalk the better of 
 the two,' said Herbert. 
 
 1 Now, Bertie,' interposed his mother, ' I'll not 
 have you teasing and running down your sister, 
 though I do say it is a shame and a slight to pick 
 out the youngest, when poor Ida is so delicate, and 
 both of you two have ever so much better a right 
 to favours.' 
 
 ' That's a good one ! ' muttered Herbert, while 
 Ida exclaimed —
 
 xvill DESDICHADO 207 
 
 ' Of course, you know, aunt has always been 
 nasty to me, ever since I said ma said I was not 
 strong enough to be bothered with that horrid school ; 
 and as to poor Herbert, they have spited him be- 
 cause he shot that ' 
 
 ' Shut up, Ida,' shouted Herbert. ' I wouldn't 
 
 go with them if they went down on their knees to 
 
 me ! What should I do, loafing about among a 
 
 lot of disputing frog-eaters, without a word of a 
 
 Christian language, and old Frank with his nose in 
 
 a guide-book wanting me to look at beastly pictures 
 
 and rum old cathedrals. You would be a fish out 
 
 of water, too, Ida. Now Conny will take to it like 
 
 a house afire, and what's more, she deserves it ! ' 
 
 » 
 
 ' Well, ma,' put in the provoked Ida, ' I wonder 
 you let Conny go, when it would do me so much 
 good, and it is so unfair.' 
 
 ' My dear, you don't understand a mother's feel- 
 ings. I feel the slight for you, but your uncle must
 
 208 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 be allowed to have his way. He is at all the expense, 
 and to refuse for Conny would do you no good.' 
 
 'Except that she will be more set up than ever,' 
 murmured Ida. 
 
 ' Oh, come now ! I wonder which looks more 
 like the set-up one,' said Herbert, whose wider 
 range had resulted in making him much alive to 
 Ida's shortcomings, and who looked on at her noisy 
 style of flirtation with the eye of a grave censor. 
 Whatever he might be himself, he knew what a 
 young lady ought to be. 
 
 He triumphed a little when, during the few days 
 spent in London, Constance wrote of a delightful 
 evening when, while her uncle and aunt and Miss 
 Morton had gone to an entertainment for Bertha's 
 match-box makers, she had been permitted to have 
 Eose Eollstone to spend the time with her, the 
 carriage, by their kind contrivance, fetching the girl 
 both in going and coming.
 
 xvni DESDICHADO 209 
 
 The two young things had been thoroughly 
 happy together. Eose had gone on improving her- 
 self; her companions in the art embroidery line 
 were girls of a good class, with a few ladies among 
 them, and their tone was good and refined. It was 
 the fashion among them to attend the classes, Bible 
 and secular, put in their way, and their employers 
 conscientiously attended to their welfare, so that 
 Eose was by no means an unfitting companion for 
 the High School maiden, and they most happily 
 compared notes over their very different lives, when 
 they were not engaged in playing with little Cea, 
 as the unwieldy name of Miss Morton's protfyte had 
 been softened. She was a very pretty little creature, 
 with big blue eyes and hair that could be called 
 golden, and very full of life and drollery, so that 
 she was a treat to both ; and when the housemaid, 
 whose charge she was, insisted on her coming to 
 
 bed, they begged to superintend her evening toilet, 
 vol. I p
 
 210 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 and would have played antics with her in her crib 
 half the night if they had not been inexorably chased 
 away. 
 
 Then they sat down on low stools in the balcony, 
 among the flowers, in convenient proximity for the 
 caresses they had not yet outgrown, and had what 
 they called ' a sweet talk.' 
 
 Constance had been much impressed with the 
 beauty of the embroidery, and thought it must be 
 delightful to do such things. 
 
 ' Yes, for the forewoman,' said Eose, ' but there's 
 plenty of dull work ; the same over and over again, 
 and one little stitch ever so small gone amiss throws 
 all wrong. Miss Grey told us to recollect it was 
 just like our lives ! ' 
 
 ' That's nice ! ' said Constance. ' And it is for the 
 Church and Almighty God's service ? ' 
 
 ' Some of it,' said Hose, ' but there's a good deal 
 only for dresses, and furniture, and screens.'
 
 xvin DESDICHADO 211 
 
 ' Don't you feel like Sunday when you are doing 
 altar-cloths and stools ? ' asked Constance reverently. 
 
 ' I wish I did/ said Rose ; ' but I don't do much 
 of that kind yet, and one can't keep up the being 
 serious over it always, you know. Indeed, Miss 
 Grey does not wish us to be dull ; she reads to us 
 when there is time, and explains the symbols that 
 have to be done ; but part of the time it is an 
 amusing book, and she says she does not mind 
 cheerful talk, only she trusts us not to have gossip 
 she would not like to hear.' 
 
 ' I wonder,' said Constance, ' whether I should 
 have come with you if all this had not happened ? 
 It must be very nice.' 
 
 ' But your school is nice ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes. I do love study, and those Saturdays 
 and Sundays at Northmoor, they are delicious ! 
 Uncle Frank reads with me about religion, you 
 know.'
 
 212 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' Like our dear Bible class ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; I never understood or felt anything before ; 
 he puts it so as it comes home/ said Constance, 
 striving to express herself. ' Then I have a dear 
 little class at the Sunday school.' 
 
 ' I am to have one, by and by.' 
 
 ' Mine are sweet little things, and I work for 
 them on Saturdays, while Aunt Mary reads to me. 
 I do like teaching — and, do you know, Eose, I 
 think I shall be a High School teacher ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, Conny, I thought you were all so rich and 
 grand ! ' 
 
 ' No, we are not,' said Constance lazily ; ' we 
 have nothing but what Uncle Frank gives us, and I 
 can't bear the way mamma and Ida are always 
 trying to get more out of him, when I know he 
 can't always do what he likes, and nasty people 
 think him shabby. I am sure I ought to work for 
 myself.'
 
 xvin DESDICHADO 213 
 
 ' But if Herbert is a lord ? ' 
 
 ' I hope he won't be for a long long time/ cried 
 Constance. ' Besides, I am sure he would want all 
 his money for himself! And as to being a teacher, 
 Aunt Mary was, and Miss Arden, who is so wise and 
 good, is one. If I was like them I think it would 
 be doing real work for God and good — wouldn't 
 it, Rose ? Oh dear, oh dear, there's the carriage 
 stopping for you ! ' 
 
 1
 
 CHAPTEE XIX 
 
 THE DOLOMITES 
 
 The summer was a very hot one, and the travellers, 
 in spite of the charm of new scenes, and the 
 wonders of everything to their unsophisticated eyes, 
 found it trying. Constance indeed was in a state 
 of constant felicity and admiration, undimmed ex- 
 cept by the flagging of her two fellow-travellers in 
 the heated and close German railway cars. Her 
 uncle's head suffered much, and Lady Northmoor 
 secretly thought her maid's refusal to accompany 
 them showed her to be a prudent woman. How- 
 ever, the first breath of mountain air was a grand 
 revival to Lord Northmoor, and at Innsbruck he
 
 CHAP, xix THE DOLOMITES 215 
 
 was quite alive, and walked about in fervent delight, 
 not desisting till he and Constance had made out 
 every statue on Maximilian's monument. His wife 
 was so much tired and worn-out, that she heartily 
 rejoiced in having provided him with such a good 
 little companion, though she was disappointed at 
 being obliged to fail him, and get what rest she 
 could at the hotel. But then, as she told him, if 
 he learnt his way about it now, he would be able 
 to show it all to her when they had both gained 
 strength at Eatzes. 
 
 Bertha had obtained full instructions and a 
 welcome for them from Mrs. Bury, a kindly 
 person, who, having married off her children 
 while still in full health and vigour, remained 
 at the service of any relation who needed her, and 
 in the meantime resorted to out-of-the-way places 
 abroad. 
 
 The railway took them to Botzen, which was
 
 216 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 hotter still, and thence on to Castelruth, whence 
 there was no means of reaching Eatzes but by mule 
 or chaise a i^orteux. Both alike were terrible to 
 poor Mary; however, she made up her mind to the 
 latter, and all the long way was to her a dream of 
 terror and discomfort, and of trying to admire — 
 what she knew she ought to admire — the wonderful 
 pinnacle-like aiguilles of the Schern cleaving the 
 air. For some time the way lay over the great 
 plateau of the Scisser Alp — a sea of rich grass, full 
 of cattle, where her husband and niece kept on 
 trying to bring their mules alongside of her to make 
 her participate in their ecstasy, and partake of their 
 spoils — mountain pink, celestially blue gentian, 
 brilliant poppy, or the like. Here the principal 
 annoyance was that their mules were so obstinately 
 bent on not approaching her that she was in con- 
 stant alarm for them, while Constance was absolutely 
 wild with delight, and even grave Frank was ex-
 
 xix THE DOLOMITES 217 
 
 hilarated by the mountain air into boyish spirits, 
 such as impressed her, though she resolutely pre- 
 vented herself from lowering them by manifesting 
 want of sympathy, though the aiguilles that they 
 admired seemed to her savage, and the descent, 
 along a perilous winding road, cut out among 
 precipices, horrified her — on, on, through endless 
 pine forests, where the mules insisted on keeping 
 her in solitude, and where nothing could be seen 
 beyond the rough jolting path. At last, when a 
 whole clay had gone by, and even Constance sat her 
 mule in silence and looked very tired, the fir trees 
 grew more scanty. The aiguilles seemed in all 
 their wildness to be nodding overhead ; there was 
 a small bowling-green, a sort of chalet in two 
 divisions, united by a gallery : but Mary saw no 
 more, for at that moment a loose slippery stone gave 
 way, and the bearers stumbled and fell, dragging 
 the chair so that it tipped over.
 
 218 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 Constance, who had ridden on in front with her 
 uncle, first heard a cry of dismay, and as both 
 leaped off and rushed back, they saw her aunt had 
 fallen, and partly entangled in the chair. 
 
 ' Do not touch her ! ' cried Frank, forgetting that 
 he could not be understood, and raising her in his 
 arms, as the chair was withdrawn ; but she did not 
 speak or move, and there was a distressing throng 
 and confusion of strange voices, seeming to hem 
 them in as Constance looked round, unable to call 
 up a single word of German, or to understand the 
 exclamations. Then, as she always said, it was like 
 an angel's voice that said, ' What is it ? ' as through 
 the crowd came a tall lady in a white hat and 
 black gown, and knelt down by the prostrate figure, 
 saying, ' I hope she is only stunned ; let us carry her 
 in. It will be better to let her come round there.' 
 
 The lady gave vigorous aid, and, giving a few 
 orders in German, helped Lord Northmoor to carry
 
 xix THE DOLOMITES 219 
 
 the inanimate form into the hotel, a low buildino- of 
 stone, with a high-pitched shingle roof. Constance 
 followed in a bewilderment of fright, together with 
 Lenchen, the Swiss maid, who, as well as could be 
 made out, was declaring that a Swiss bearer never 
 made a false step. 
 
 Lady ISTorthmoor was carried into a bedroom, 
 and Constance was shut out into a room that 
 photographed itself on her memory, even in that 
 moment — a room like a box, with a rough table, a 
 few folding-chairs, an easel, water-coloured drawings 
 hung about in all directions, a big travelling-case, a 
 few books, a writing-case, Mrs. Bury's sitting-room 
 in fact, which, as a regular sojourner, she had been 
 able to secure and furnish after her need. From 
 the window, tall, narrow, latticed, with a heavy out- 
 side shutter, she saw a village green, a little church 
 with a sharp steeple, and pointed-roof houses covered 
 with shingle, groups of people, a few in picturesque
 
 220 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 Tyrolese costume, but others in the ordinary badly 
 cut edition of cosmopolitan human nature. There 
 was a priest in a big hat and white bordered bands 
 discussing a newspaper with a man with a big red 
 umbrella ; a party drinking coffee under a pine tree, 
 and beyond, those strange wild pointed aiguilles 
 pointing up purple and red against the sky. 
 
 How delightful it would all have been if this 
 quarter of an hour could be annihilated ! She could 
 find out nothing. Lenchen and the good-natured- 
 looking landlady came in and out and fetched 
 things, but they never stayed long enough to give 
 her any real information, the landlady shouting for 
 ' Hemzel,' etc., and Lenchen calling loudly in Ger- 
 man for the boxes, which had been slung on mules. 
 She heard nothing definite till her uncle came out, 
 looking pale and anxious. 
 
 ' She is better now,' he said, with a gasp of relief, 
 throwing himself into a chair, and holding out his
 
 xix THE DOLOMITES 221 
 
 hand to Constance, who could hardly frame her 
 question. ' Yes, quite sensible — came round quickly. 
 The blow on the head seems to be of no consequence ; 
 but there may be a strain, or it may be only the 
 being worn out and overdone. They are going to 
 undress her and put her to bed now. Mrs. Bury is 
 kindness itself. I did not look after her enough on 
 that dreadful road.' 
 
 ' Isn't there a doctor ? ' Constance ventured to 
 ask. 
 
 'No such thing within I know not how many 
 miles of these paths ! But Mrs. Bury seems to 
 think it not likely to be needed. Over-fatigue and 
 the shake ! What was I about ? This air and all 
 the rest were like an intoxication, making me forget 
 my poor Mary ! ' 
 
 He passed his hand over his face with a gest- 
 ure as if he were very much shocked and grieved 
 at himself, and Constance suggested that it was
 
 222 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 all the mule's fault, and Aunt Mary never com- 
 plained. 
 
 ' The more reason she should not have been 
 neglected/ he said ; and it was well for the ex- 
 cluded pair that just then the boxes were reported 
 as arrived, and he was called on for the keys, so that 
 wild searching for things demanded occupied them. 
 
 After a considerable time, Mrs. Bury came and 
 told Lord Northmoor that he might go and look at 
 his wife for a few moments, but that she must be 
 kept perfectly quiet and not talked to or agitated. 
 Constance was not to go in at all, but was con- 
 ducted off by the good lady to her own tiny room, 
 to get herself ready for the much-needed meal that 
 was imminent. 
 
 They met again in the outer room. There was 
 a great Speise saal, a separate building, where the 
 bathers dived en masse ; but since Mrs. Bury had 
 made the place her haunt, she had led to the
 
 xix THE DOLOMITES 223 
 
 erection of an additional building where there was a 
 little accommodation for the travellers of the better 
 class who had of late discovered the glories of the 
 Dolomites, though the baths were scarcely ever 
 used except by artizans and farmers. She had this 
 sitting-room chiefly made at her own expense with 
 these few comforts, in the way of easy folding- 
 chairs, a vase of exquisite flowers on the table, a 
 few delicate carvings, an easel, and drawings of 
 the mountain peaks and ravines suspended every- 
 where. 
 
 Besides this there were only the bedrooms, as 
 small as they well could be. 
 
 They were summoned down to the evening meal, 
 and the maid Lenchen was left with Lady North- 
 moor. There was only one other guest, a spectacled 
 and rather silent German, and Constance presently 
 gathered that Mrs. Bury was trying to encourage 
 and inspirit Lord Northmoor, but seemed to think
 
 224 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 there might be some delay before a move would be 
 possible. 
 
 They sent her to bed, for she was really very 
 tired after the long walk and ride, and she could 
 not help sleeping soundly ; but the first thing she 
 heard in the morning was that the guide had been 
 desired to send a doctor from Botzen, and the poor 
 child spent a dreary morning of anxiety with no- 
 thing to do but to watch the odd figures disporting 
 themselves or resting in the shade after their baths, 
 to try a little sketching and a little letter-writing, 
 but she was too restless and anxious to get on with 
 either. 
 
 All the comfort she got was now and then Mrs. 
 Bury telling her that she need not be frightened, 
 and giving her a book to read ; and after the mid- 
 day meal her uncle was desired by Mrs. Bury, who 
 had evidently assumed the management of him, to 
 take the child out walking, for the doctor could not
 
 xix THE DOLOMITES 225 
 
 come for hours, and Lady Northmoor had better be 
 left to sleep. 
 
 So they wandered out into the pinewoods, 
 preoccupied and silent, gazing along the path, 
 as if that would hasten the doctor. Constance had 
 perceived that questions were discouraged, and did 
 her best to keep from being troublesome by trying 
 to busy herself with a bouquet of mountain 
 flowers. 
 
 The little German doctor came so late that 
 
 he had to remain all night, but his coming, as 
 
 well as that of a brisk American brother and 
 
 sister, seemed to have cheered things up a good 
 
 deal. Mrs. Bury talked to the German, and the 
 
 Americans asked so many questions that answering 
 
 them made things quite lively. Indeed, Constance 
 
 was allowed to wish her aunt good -night, and 
 
 seeing her look just like herself on her pillows, 
 
 much relieved her mind. 
 
 vol. I Q
 
 CHAPTEK XX 
 
 EATZES 
 
 Things began to fall into their regular course at 
 Batzes, Lady Northmoor was in a clay or two able 
 to come into Mrs. Bury's sitting-room for a few 
 hours every clay ; but there she lay on a folding- 
 chaise - lounge that had been arranged for her, 
 languid but bright, reading, working, looking at 
 Mrs. Bury's drawings, and keeping the diary of the 
 adventures of the others. 
 
 Her husband would fain never have left her, but 
 he had to take his baths. These were in the lower 
 story of the larger chalet. They were taken in 
 rows of pinewood boxes in the vault. He
 
 chap, xx KATZES 227 
 
 muttered that it felt very like going alive into 
 his coffin, when, like others, he laid himself down in 
 the rust -coloured liquid, 'each in his narrow cell' 
 in iron ' laid,' with his head on a shelf, and a lid 
 dosing up to his chin, and he was un cheered by- 
 conversation, as all the other patients w T ere Aus- 
 trians of the lower middle class, and their Tyrolean 
 dialect would have been hard to understand even 
 by German scholars. However, the treatment 
 certainly did him good, and entirely drove away his 
 neuralgia, he walked, rode, and climbed a good deal 
 with Constance and a lad attached to the establish- 
 ment, whose German Constance could just under- 
 stand. And while he stayed with his wife, Mrs. 
 Bury took Constance out, showed her many delights, 
 helped her crude notions of drawing, and being a 
 good botanist herself, taught the whole party fresh 
 pleasures in the wonderful flora of the Dolomites. 
 Now and then an English traveller appeared,
 
 228 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 and Lord Northmoor was persuaded to join in 
 expeditions for his niece's sake, that took them 
 away for a night or two. Thus they saw Caprile 
 Cadore, St. Ulrich, that town of toys, full of dolls of 
 every tone, spotted wooden horses, carts, and the 
 like. They beheld the tall points of Monte Serrata, 
 and the wonderful ' Horse Teeth,' with many more 
 such marvels ; and many were the curiosities they 
 brought back, and the stories they had to tell, with 
 regrets that Aunt Mary had not been there to enjoy 
 and add to their enjoyment. 
 
 So the days went on, and the end of Constance's 
 holidays was in view, the limit that had been in- 
 tended for the Kur at Eatzes ; but Aunt Mary had 
 not been out of doors since their arrival, and 
 seemed fit for nothing save lying by the window. 
 
 Constance had begun to wonder what would be 
 done, when she was told that a good-natured pair 
 of English travellers, like herself bound to school
 
 xx RATZES 229 
 
 terms, would escort her safely to London and see 
 her into the train for Colbeam, just in time for the 
 High School term. 
 
 ' This will be the best way/ said her aunt, kissing 
 her. 'You have been a dear good girl, Conny, and 
 a great pleasure and comfort to us both.' 
 
 ' Oh, auntie, I have not done anything, Mrs. 
 Bury has clone it all.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Bury is most kind, unspeakably kind, but, 
 my dear dear girl, your companionship has been so 
 much to your dear uncle that I have been most 
 thankful to you. Always recollect, dearest Conny, 
 you can* be more comfort to your uncle than anybody 
 else, whatever may come. You will always be a good 
 girl and keep up your tone, and make him your great 
 consideration — after higher things ; promise me.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, indeed, auntie dear,' said the girl, 
 somewhat frightened and bewildered as the last 
 kisses and good-byes were exchanged. Since the
 
 230 THAT STICK 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 travellers were to start very early the next morning 
 on their mules for Botzen, whither Mrs. Bury 
 meant to accompany them in order to make some 
 purchases, Lord ISTorthmoor went with the party to 
 the limits of his walking powers, and on the slope 
 of the Alp, amid the fir- woods, took his leave, Mrs. 
 Bury telling him cheerfully that she should return 
 the next day, while he said that he could not thank 
 her enough. He bade farewell to his niece, telling 
 her that he hoped she would by and by be spending 
 her holidays at Northmoor if all went well. 
 
 Constance had begun to grow alarmed, and 
 watched for an opportunity of imploring Mrs. Bury 
 to tell her whether Aunt Mary were really very ill. 
 
 Mrs. Bury laughed, and confided to her a secret, 
 which made her at once glad, alarmed, and important. 
 
 ' Oh, and is no one to know ? ' said little Con- 
 stance, with rosy cheeks. 
 
 ' Not till leave is given,' said Mrs. Bury. ' You
 
 xx EATZES 231 
 
 see there is still so much risk of things going wrong, 
 that they both wish nothing to be said at present. 
 I thought they had spoken to you.' 
 
 ' Oh no. But — but ' and Constance could 
 
 not go on, as her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 ' Is there special cause for anxiety, you mean, my 
 dear ? Hardly for her, though it was unlucky that 
 she was as unknowing as you, and I don't see how 
 she is to be taken over these roads into a more 
 civilised place. But I shall stay on and see them 
 through with it, and I daresay we shall do very 
 well. I am used enough to looking after my own 
 daughters, and nobody particularly wants me at home.' 
 
 ' That's what Aunt Mary meant by saying you 
 were so very good ! ' 
 
 ' Well, it would be sheer inhumanity to leave 
 them to themselves, and the mercies of Eatzes, and 
 there seems to be no one else that could come.' 
 
 ' I'm glad I know ! ' said Constance, with a long
 
 232 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 breath. ' Only what shall I do if any one asks me 
 about her ? ' 
 
 ' Say she had a nasty fall, which makes it un- 
 desirable to move her just yet. It is the simple 
 truth, and what you would have naturally said but 
 for this little communication of mine.' 
 
 ' I suppose,' said Constance, in a tone Mrs. Bury 
 did not understand, ' it will be all known before my 
 Christmas holidays ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes, my dear, long before that. I'll write 
 to you when I have anything to tell.' 
 
 For which Constance thanked her heartily, and 
 thenceforth felt a great deal older for the confidence, 
 which delighted as well as made her anxious, for she 
 was too fond of her uncle and aunt, as well as too 
 young and simple, for it to have occurred to her how 
 the matter might affect her brother. 
 
 After seeing much more on her road than she 
 had done before, and won golden opinions from her
 
 xx KATZES 233 
 
 escort for intelligence and obligingness, she was 
 safely deposited in the train for Colbeam, without 
 having gone home. 
 
 She had made up her mind to pass Sunday at 
 her boarding-house, and was greatly surprised when 
 Lady Adela called on Saturday to take her to North- 
 moor for the Sunday. 
 
 ' Now tell me about your uncle and aunt,' the 
 good lady began, when Constance was seated beside 
 her. ' Yes, I have heard from Mrs. Bury, but I want 
 to know whether the place is tolerably comfortable.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Bury has made it much better,' said Con- 
 stance. ' And it is so beautiful, no one would care 
 for comfort who was quite well.' 
 
 ' And is your uncle well ? Has he got over his 
 headaches ? ' she asked solicitously. 
 
 In fact, the absence of Lord and Lady Northmoor 
 had done more than their presence to make Lady 
 Adela feel their value. She was astonished to find
 
 234 THAT STICK chap, xx 
 
 how much she missed the power of referring to him 
 and leaning on his support in all questions, small or 
 great, that cropped up ; and she had begun to feel 
 that the stick might he a staff; besides which, 
 having imbibed more than an inkling of the cause 
 of detention, she was anxious to gather what she 
 could of the circumstances. 
 
 She was agreeably surprised in Constance, to 
 whom the journey had been a time of development 
 from the mere school girl, and who could talk 
 pleasantly, showing plenty of intelligence and 
 observation in a modest lady-like way. Moreover, 
 she had a game in the garden which little Amice 
 enjoyed extremely, and she and her little Sunday 
 class were delighted to see one another again. It 
 resulted in her Sundays being spent at Northmoor 
 as regularly as before, and in Amice, a companionless 
 child, thinking Saturday brought the white after- 
 noon of the week.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE HEIR-APPARENT 
 
 'My dear Addie, 
 
 1 You have no doubt ceased from your exer- 
 tions in the way of finding nurses, since the 
 telegram has told you that the son and heir has 
 considerately saved trouble and expense by making 
 his appearance on Michaelmas morning. It was 
 before there was time to fetch anybody but the 
 ancient village Bettina. Everything is most pro- 
 sperous, and I am almost as proud as the parents — 
 and to see them gloat over the morsel is a caution. 
 They look at him as if such a being had never 
 been known on the earth before ; and he really is a
 
 236 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 very fine healthy creature, most ridiculously like 
 the portrait of the original old Michael Morton 
 Northmoor in the full-bottomed wig. He seems to 
 be almost equally marvellous to the Eatzes popula- 
 tion, being the first infant seen there unswaddled 
 — or washed. Bettina's horror at the idea of 
 washing him is worth seeing. Her brown old 
 face was almost convulsed, and she and our Frau- 
 wirthin concurred in assuring me that it would be 
 fatal to der Heine baron if he were washed, except 
 with white wine and milk at a fortnight old ; nor 
 would they accept my assurance that my three 
 daughters and seven grandchildren had survived 
 the process. I have to do it myself, and dress him 
 as I can, for his wardrobe as made here is not 
 complete, and whatever you can send us will be 
 highly acceptable. It is lucky that Northmoor is a 
 born nurse, for the women's fear of breaking the child 
 is really justifiable, as they never handled anything
 
 xxi THE HEIR- APPARENT 237 
 
 not made up into a mummy ; moreover, they wish to 
 let all the world up into Mary's room to behold the 
 curiosity, I met the priest upon his way and 
 turned him back ! So we have pretty well all the 
 nursing on our hands, and happily it is of the most 
 satisfactory kind, with the one drawback that we 
 have to call in the services of a ' valia ' ; but on 
 the other hand we have all been so much interested 
 in a poor little widow, Hedwig Grantzen, whose 
 husband was lost last spring in a snow-storm, that 
 it is pleasant to have some employment for her. 
 Such a creature as came over on chance and specula- 
 tion — a great coarse handsome girl, in exaggerated 
 costume, all new, with lacy ribbons down her back ; 
 but I rode over to Botzen, and interviewed her 
 parish priest about her, and that was enough to 
 settle her. Every one is asleep except myself, and 
 Mary's face is one smile as she sleeps. 
 
 ' This is going to be posted by the last of the
 
 238 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 tourists, luckily a clergyman, whom we begged to 
 baptize the boy, as there is a possibility that snows 
 may close us in before we can get away. 
 
 ' So he is named Michael Kenton, partly after 
 my own dear brother as well as the old founder, 
 partly in honour of the day and of Sir Edward 
 Kenton, who, they say, has been their very kind 
 friend. It really is a feast to see people so wonder- 
 ingly happy and thankful. The little creature has 
 all the zest of novelty to them, and they coo and 
 marvel over it in perfect felicity. When you will 
 be introduced to the hero, I cannot guess, for though 
 he has been an earlier arrival than his mother's in- 
 experience expected, I much doubt her being able 
 to get out of this place while the way to Botzen 
 is passable according to the prognostics of the 
 sages. What splendid studies of ice peaks I shall 
 have ! Your affectionate cousin, 
 
 ' L. Bury.'
 
 xxi THE HEIR-APPARENT 239 
 
 A telegram had preceded the letter. One soon 
 followed by Mrs. Bury's promised note had filled 
 Constance's honest little heart with rapture, another 
 had set all the bells in Northrnoor Church ringing 
 and Best rejoicing that ' that there Harbut's nose 
 was put out of joint/ a feeling wherein Lady Adela 
 could not but participate, though, of course, she 
 showed no sign of it to Constance. A sharply- 
 worded letter to the girl soon came from her 
 mother, demanding what she had known before- 
 hand. Mrs. Morton had plainly been quite unpre- 
 pared for what was a severe blow to her, and it 
 was quite possible to understand how, in his shyness, 
 Lord Northmoor had put off writing of the hope and 
 expectation from day to day till all had been fulfilled 
 sooner than had been expected. 
 
 It was the first thing that brought home to 
 Constance that the event was scarcely as delightful 
 to her family as to herself. She wrote what she
 
 240 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 knew and heard no more, for none of her home 
 family were apt to favour her with much correspond- 
 ence. Miss Morton, however, had written to her 
 sister-in-law. 
 
 ' Poor Herbert ! I am sorry for him, though you 
 won't be. He takes it very well, he really is a very 
 good sort at bottom, and it really is the very best thing 
 for him, as I have been trying to persuade him.' 
 
 Bulletins came with tolerable frequency from 
 Eatzes, with all good accounts of mother and child, 
 and a particular description of little Michael's 
 beauties ; but it was only too soon announced 
 that snow was falling, and this was soon followed 
 by another letter saying that consultation with the 
 best authorities within reach had decided that 
 unless the weather were extraordinarily mild, the 
 journey, after November set in, was not to be 
 ventured by Lady Northmoor or so young a child. 
 There would be perils for any one, even the post-
 
 xxi THE HEIE-APPAKENT 241 
 
 men and the guides, and if it were mild in one 
 valley it might only render it more dangerous 
 over the next Alp. Still Mrs. Bury, a practised 
 and enterprising mountaineer, might have attempted 
 it; but though Mary was rapidly recovering and 
 the language was no longer utterly impracticable, 
 the good lady could not bear to desert her charges, 
 or to think what might happen to them, if left 
 alone, in case of illness or accident, so she devoted 
 herself to them and to her studies of ice and snow, 
 and wrote word to her family that they were to think 
 of her as hybernating till Easter, if not Whitsuntide. 
 
 VOL. i r
 
 CHAPTEE XXII 
 
 OUT OF JOINT 
 
 Constance had, of course, to spend her Christmas 
 holidays at home, where she had not been for nine 
 months. 
 
 Her brother met her at the London terminus to 
 go down with her, and there, to her great joy, she 
 also saw Eose Eollstone on the platform. Herbert, 
 whose dignity had first prompted him to seek a 
 smoking carriage apart from his sister, thereupon 
 decided to lay it aside and enter with them, look- 
 ing rather scornful at the girls' mutual endear- 
 ments. 
 
 ' Come, Conny, Miss Eollstone has had enough of
 
 CHAP, xxii OUT OF JOINT 243 
 
 that,' he said, ' and here are a lot going to get in. 
 Oh my, the cads ! I shall have to get into the 
 smoking carriage after all.' 
 
 ' No, don't. Sit opposite and we shall do very 
 well.' 
 
 Then came the exchange of news, and — ' You've 
 heard, of course, Eosie ? ' 
 
 ' I should think I had,' then an anxious glance 
 at Herbert, who answered — 
 
 ' Oh yes, mother and Ida have been tearing their 
 hair ever since, but it is all rot ! The governor's 
 very welcome to the poor little beggar ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, that's right ! That's very noble of you, 
 Herbert,' said both the girls in a breath. 
 
 ' Well, you see, old Frank is good to live these 
 thirty or forty years yet, and what was the good of 
 having to wait ? Better have done with it at once, 
 I say, and he has written me a stunning jolly 
 letter.'
 
 244 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' Oh, I was sure he would ! ' cried Constance. 
 
 ' I'm to go on just the same, and he won't cut off 
 my allowance,' pursued Herbert. 
 
 ' It is just as my papa says,' put in Eose, ' he 
 is always the gentleman. And you'll be in the 
 army still ? ' 
 
 ' When I've got through my exams ; but they 
 are no joke, Miss Eose, I can tell you. It is Conny 
 there that likes to sap. What have you been doing 
 this time, little one ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know yet, but Miss Astley thinks I 
 have done well and shall get into the upper form,' 
 said Constance shyly. ' I got on with my German 
 while I was abroad, trying to teach Uncle Frank.' 
 
 At which Herbert laughed heartily, and de- 
 manded what sort of scholar he made. 
 
 ' Not very good,' owned Constance ; ' he did for- 
 get so from day to day, and he asked so many 
 questions, and was always wanting to have things
 
 xxn OUT OF JOINT 245 
 
 explained. But it made me know them better, 
 and Mrs. Bury had such nice books, and she helped 
 me. If you want to take up French and German, 
 Bertie ' 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ' Don't spoil the passing hour, child. I should 
 think you would be glad enough to get away from 
 it all.' 
 
 ' I do want to get on,' said Constance. ' I must, 
 you know, more than ever now.' 
 
 ' Oh, you mean that mad fancy of going and 
 being a teacher ? ' 
 
 ' It is not a bit mad, Herbert. Eose does not 
 think it is, and I want you to stand by me if 
 mamma and Ida make objections.' 
 
 ' Girls are always in such a hurry,' grumbled 
 Herbert. ' You need not make a stir about it 
 yet. You won't be able to begin for ever so long.' 
 
 Eose agreed with him that it would be much
 
 246 THAT STICK CHAT. 
 
 wiser not to broach the subject till Constance was 
 old enough to begin the preparation, though, with 
 the impatience of youth to express its designs and 
 give them form, she did not like the delay. 
 
 ' I tell you what, Con,' finally said Herbert, ' if 
 you set mother and Ida worrying before their time, I 
 shall vote it all rot, and not say a word to help you.' 
 
 Which disposed of the subject for the time, and 
 left them to discuss happily Constance's travels and 
 Herbert's new tutor and companions till their arrival 
 at Westhaven, where Constance's welcome was quite 
 a secondary thing to Herbert's, as she well knew 
 it would be, nor felt it as a grievance, though she 
 was somewhat amazed at seeing him fervently em- 
 braced, and absolutely cried over, with ' Oh, my poor 
 injured boy ! ' 
 
 Herbert did not like it at all, and disengaging 
 himself rapidly, growled out his favourite expletive 
 of ' Eot ! Have done with that ! '
 
 xxn OUT OF JOINT 247 
 
 He was greatly admired for his utter impatience 
 of commiseration, but there was no doubt that the 
 disappointment was far greater to his mother and 
 Ida than to himself. He cared little for what did 
 not make any actual difference to his present life, 
 whereas to them the glory and honour of his heir- 
 ship and the future hopes were everything — and 
 Constance's manifest delight in the joy of her uncle 
 and aunt, and her girlish interest in the baby, were 
 to their eyes unfeeling folly, if not absolute unkind- 
 ness to her brother. 
 
 ' Dear little baby, indeed ! ' said Ida scornfully. 
 'Nasty little wretch, I say. One good thing is, 
 up in that cold place all this time he's sure not 
 to live.' 
 
 Herbert whistled. ' That's coming it rather 
 strong.' And Constance, with tears starting to her 
 eyes, said, ' For shame, Ida, how can you be so 
 wicked ! Think of Uncle Frank and Aunt Mary ! '
 
 248 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' I believe you care for them more than for your 
 own flesh and blood ! ' exclaimed her mother. 
 
 ' "Well, and haven't they done a sight deal more 
 for her ? ' said Herbert. 
 
 ' You turning on me too, you ungrateful boy ! ' 
 cried Mrs. Morton. 
 
 Herbert laughed. 
 
 ' If it comes to gratitude,' he said, and looked 
 significantly at the decorations. 
 
 ' And what is it but the due to his brother's 
 widow ? ' said Mrs. Morton. ' Just a pittance, and 
 you may depend that will be cut down on some 
 pretext now ! ' 
 
 ' I should think so, if they heard Ida's tongue ! ' 
 said Herbert. 
 
 'And Constance there is spitefulness enough to 
 go and tell them — favourite as she is ! ' said Ida. 
 
 ' I should think not ! ' said Constance indignantly. 
 ' As if I would do such a mean thing ! '
 
 xxii OUT OF JOINT 249 
 
 ' Come, come, Ida,' said her mother, ' your sister 
 knows better than that. It's not the way when 
 she is only just come home, so grown too and 
 improved, " quite the lady." ' 
 
 Mrs. Morton had a mother's heart for Constance, 
 though only in the third degree, and was really 
 gratified to see her progress. She had turned up 
 her pretty brown hair, and the last year had made 
 her much less of a child in appearance ; her features 
 were of delicate mould, she had dark eyes, and a 
 sweet mouth, with a rose-blush complexion, and was 
 pleasing to look on, though, in her mother's eyes, 
 no rival to the thin, rather sharply-defined features, 
 bright eyes, and pink -and -white complexion that 
 made Ida the belle of a certain set at Westhaven. 
 The party were more amicable over the dinner-table 
 — for dinner it was called, as an assertion of gentility. 
 
 ' Are you allowed to dine late,' asked Ida patron- 
 isingly of her sister, ' when you are not at school ? '
 
 250 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 ' Lady Adela dines early,' said Constance. 
 
 ' Oh, for your sake, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' Always, I believe,' said Constance. 
 
 ' Yes, always,' said Herbert. ' Fine people needn't 
 ask what's genteel, you see, Ida.' 
 
 That was almost the only breeze, and after 
 dinner Herbert rushed out for a smell of sea, inter- 
 spersed with pipe, and to ' look up the inevitable old 
 Jack.' 
 
 Constance was then subjected to a cross-examina- 
 tion on all the circumstances of the detention at 
 Eatzes, and all she had heard or ought to have heard 
 about the arrival of the unwelcome little Michael, 
 while her mother and sister drew their own inferences. 
 
 ' Really/ said Ida at last, ' it is just like a thing 
 in a book.' 
 
 Constance was surprised. 
 
 ' Because it was such a happy surprise for them,' 
 she added hastily.
 
 xxir OUT OF JOINT 251 
 
 'No, nonsense, child, but it is just what they 
 always do when they want a supposititious heir.' 
 
 ' Ida, how can you say such things ? ' 
 
 ' But it is, Conny ! There was the wicked Sir 
 Eon aid Macronald. He took his wife away to 
 Belgrade, right in the Ukraine mountains, and 
 it ' 
 
 'Belgrade is in Hungary, and the Cossacks live 
 in the Ukraine in Eussia/ suggested Constance. 
 
 ' Oh, never mind your school-girl geography, it 
 was Bel something, an out-of-the-way place in the 
 mountains anyway, and there he pretended she had 
 a child, just out of malice to the right heiress, that 
 lovely Lilian, and he got killed by a stag, and then 
 she confessed on her death-bed. I declare it is just 
 like ' 
 
 ' My dear, don't talk in that way, your sister is 
 quite shocked. Your uncle never would ' 
 
 'Bless me, ma, I was only in fun. I could tell
 
 252 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 you ever so many stories like that. There's 
 Broughton's, on the table there. I knew from the 
 first it was an impostor, and the old nurse dressed 
 like a nun was his mother.' 
 
 ' I believe you always know the end before you 
 are half through the first volume/ said her mother 
 admiringly ; ' but of course it is all right, only it is 
 a terrible disappointment and misfortune for us, and 
 not to be looked for after all these years.' 
 
 The last three Christmastides had been spent at 
 Northmoor, where it had been needful to conform 
 to the habits of the household, which impressed Ida 
 and her mother as grand and conferring distinction, 
 but decidedly dull and religious. 
 
 So as they were at Westhaven, perforce, they 
 would make up for it ; Christmas Eve was spent in 
 a tumult of preparation for the diversions of the 
 next day. Mrs. Morton had two maids now, but 
 to her they were still ' gals,' not to be trusted with
 
 xxii OUT OF JOINT 253 
 
 the more delicate cookeries, and Ida was fully en- 
 gaged in the adornment of the room and herself, 
 while Constance ran about and helped both, and 
 got more thanks from her mother than her sister. 
 
 Ida was to end the day with a dance at a friend's 
 house, but she was not desirous of taking Constance 
 with her, having been accustomed to treat her as a 
 mere child, and Constance, though not devoid of a 
 wish for amusement, knew that her uncle and aunt 
 would have taken her to church, where she would 
 have enjoyed the festal service. 
 
 Her mother would not let her go out in the dark- 
 alone, and was too tired to go with her, so she had 
 to stay at home, while Herbert disported himself 
 elsewhere, and Constance underwent another cross- 
 examination over the photographs she had brought 
 home, but Mrs. Morton was never unkind when 
 alone with her, and she had all the natural delight 
 of youth in relating her adventures. Mrs. Morton,
 
 254 THAT STICK chap. 
 
 however, showed offence at not having been sent for 
 instead of Mrs. Bury — ' So much less of a relation,' 
 and Constance found herself dwelling on the ragged- 
 ness of the pass, and the difficulties of making 
 oneself understood, but Mrs. Morton still persisted 
 that she could not understand why they should 
 have got into such a place at all, when there were 
 plenty of fashionable places in the newspaper where 
 they could have had society and attendance and 
 everything.' 
 
 ' Ah, but that was just what Uncle Frank didn't 
 want.' 
 
 'Well, if they choose to be so eccentric, and 
 close and shy, they can't wonder that people talk.' 
 
 ' Mamma, you can't mean that horrid nonsense 
 that Ida talked about ! It was only a joke ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, my dear, I don't say that I suspect anything 
 — oh no, — only, if they had not been so close and 
 queer, one would have been able to contradict it.
 
 xxii OUT OF JOINT 255 
 
 I like people to be straightforward, that's all I have 
 to say. And it is terribly hard on your poor brother 
 to be so disappointed, after having his expectations 
 so raised ! ' and Mrs. Morton melted into tears, 
 leaving Constance with nothing to say, for in the 
 first place, she did not think Herbert, as yet at least, 
 was very sensible of his loss, and in the next, she 
 did not quite venture to ask her mother whether 
 she thought little Michael should have been sacrificed 
 to Herbert's expectations. So she took the wiser 
 course of producing a photograph of Vienna. 
 
 END OF VOL. I 
 
 Printed by R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh
 
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