CASTLE 
 
 DEAN- HURST 
 
 SARAH S.HAMER 
 
 ORNIA UNJVERSr 
 
 S 
 
 CfLITY REGIONAL
 
 Frontispiece. Seepage 8.
 
 DEAN - H u RST 
 
 SARAH SELINA HAMER 
 
 AUTHOR OF "CHRISTINE'S CROOK" 
 
 KTC. 
 
 CHARLES H. KELLY 
 
 2, CASTLE ST., CITY RD. ; AND 66, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C. 
 l8 95
 
 MORRISON AND OIBB, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
 
 r 
 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. 
 I. THE HOME-COMING 
 
 II. DEAN HEAD MANSE 
 
 in. "DEAN HEAD CHAPEL" AND "DEAN-HURST 
 iv. IN THE CHAPEL-KEEPER'S COTTAGE 
 
 V. UNDERCRAGG .... 
 VI. IN DEAN HOLLOW 
 VII. A PLAIN SERMON 
 VIII. AN AFTERNOON AT DEAN-HURST 
 IX. LOVE-MAKING .... 
 X. A CRISIS. .... 
 
 XI. A CATASTROPHE 
 XII. RESCUE . 
 
 PAGE 
 7 
 
 . 20 
 
 . 37 
 
 . 53 
 
 . 68 
 
 . 86 
 
 . 102 
 
 . 120 
 
 . 139 
 
 . 155 
 
 . 173 
 183 
 
 2049798
 
 DEAN-HURST 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE HOME-COMING 
 
 " All is not lost, th' unconquerable will, 
 , . . And courage never to submit or yield." Milton. 
 
 " Beautiful as sweet ! 
 
 And young as beautiful ! And soft as young ! 
 And gay as soft ! And innocent as gay ! " Young. 
 
 T was the evening of a September day, and 
 though on the hills the light still lingered, 
 the dusk was deepening fast in Beck Dean, 
 and other valleys which ran north and 
 south. The mill at Higher Dean had been 
 shut up an hour, and the hands dispersed to their homes 
 up or down the dale or on the hillsides; the sluice or 
 " clou " had been closed, and the full fall of the water 
 down the weir into the beck made music in the twilight. 
 But a woman who opened the door of the grey stone 
 house which adjoined the grey stone mill noted it not 
 she was listening intently for some other sound. A
 
 8 DEAN-HURST 
 
 moment she stood on the threshold, then she walked the 
 few steps down the narrow garden which ran along the 
 front of the house and listened at the gate ; and finally, 
 hearing nothing there, she opened it, and, skirting the 
 garden wall, stepped into the road, towards which the 
 house had its gable-end. 
 
 " Surely Bryan cannot have missed the later train," she 
 said, speaking to herself as she looked down the valley 
 road; "whatever makes him so late, I wonder." She 
 could only see a short distance, the valley having many 
 turnings and curves, though her eyes looked bright 
 enough, and keen enough almost, to pierce the intervening 
 hill-slopes. She was a middle-aged woman, had a tall, 
 spare figure and a remarkable face vigour, purpose, 
 determination were stamped upon every feature, as well 
 as seen in the dark, keen eyes. She was plainly, almost 
 shabbily, dressed in black. 
 
 Mrs Dean, for that was her name, lifted her firm 
 chin, raised her right hand to her ear, and listened 
 again. " Ah ! he's coming now," she said, as the sound 
 of wheels greeted her ears, though nothing was yet in 
 sight ; and the chin dropped, the thin lips curved into a 
 smile, and the dark eyes softened. " It's all right, he's 
 coming now," she repeated. 
 
 She did not re-enter the house, but waited at the angle 
 of the garden wall. Almost instantly a one-horse gig 
 appeared in sight, rounding a bend in the road. 
 
 " Why," she said the next moment, " who has he got 
 with him? That's not Sam ; it's a woman or a girl." 
 
 Yes, it was a girl, unmistakably ; but what girl it was 
 too dusk to see until Bryan, her son, was drawing rein by 
 her side. 
 
 "Do you see whom I have here?" asked the young
 
 THE HOME-COMING 9 
 
 man, bending forward, as he brought his horse to a stand. 
 He had to speak to his mother past his passenger, and he 
 glanced at the latter with a smile as he spoke. 
 
 " Perhaps you are like Mr. Bryan, and don't know me 
 again 1 " said the girl, bending down and holding out a 
 small, neatly-gloved hand ; "he actually passed me twice 
 at the station without " 
 
 " Oh yes, I know you, Miss Joyce," said Mrs. Dean, 
 taking the girl's hand ; " though you have grown and 
 altered, of course." 
 
 There was a certain coldness in her voice, and her 
 grasp of the hand she had taken was not very cordial. 
 
 " Yes, I daresay ; I have been away a long time," said 
 the girl ; " it has seemed long to me, at anyrate two 
 years and a half ! And then, to think that there was not 
 a soul to meet me ! I don't know what I should have 
 done if Mr. Bryan had not been there." 
 
 " It is as I said, no doubt," said the young man ; 
 " they can't have got your letter up at the Manse, Miss 
 Joyce ; letters are behind sometimes in Beck Dean, at 
 anyrate. But you are all right ; I shall soon have you 
 at Dean Head ; " and as he spoke, Bryan Dean tightened 
 his grasp of the reins and intimated to Boxer, by means 
 of an unspellable sound, that he might go on. 
 
 " Good-night, Mrs. Dean," said the girl, as that lady 
 stepped back and the gig started again. "Tell Zillah 
 I shall come to see her very soon; she is not in, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " I shall not be long, mother," called back Bryan ; and 
 then the gig gradually disappeared in the gathering 
 gloom. 
 
 Mrs. Dean stood perfectly still, until it could be neither 
 seen nor heard. Then, with compressed lips, she re-entered
 
 io DEAN-HURST 
 
 the house, turning as she did so into the left-hand parlour 
 there was one each side the door, in the good old- 
 fashioned Stonyshire style. In the firelight the room 
 looked comfortable ; but a stronger light would have 
 revealed the fact that the carpet was threadbare, the 
 crimson moreen curtains faded and shabby, and the 
 beautifully white cloth on the table, spread for Bryan's 
 tea, much darned. To make use of a catch phrase, often 
 repeated in our childhood's days, there was no " abundance 
 on the table." There was plenty of bright silver, which 
 was ornamented with a crest, and some choice old china ; 
 but very little, and very plain, food. 
 
 Mrs. Dean seated herself in a low rocking-chair to the 
 left of the fire, and took up some knitting she had put 
 aside when she went out ; but she soon let it drop on her 
 lap and gazed into the fire, the expression of her face 
 becoming every moment more grim. 
 
 "Come to see Zillah, will she?" she repeated to 
 herself more than once ; " I think not I must see that 
 that friendship is not renewed. I'll not have her coming 
 here ; 1 will not." 
 
 The door opened, and a middle-aged servant-woman 
 appeared, carrying a lighted lamp. 
 
 " You shouldn't have lit that yet, Rebecca," said her 
 mistress rather sharply. 
 
 "Why, I thought I heard th' gig an' as masther 
 'ould be in any minute," said the woman, setting down 
 the lamp. 
 
 " So you did hear it," said Mrs. Dean ; " but Mr. 
 Bryan has gone on to Dean Head with Joyce Warwick ; 
 he met with her at the station. There ought to have 
 been somebody to meet her, but, with their usual bungling 
 ways, there wasn't."
 
 THE HOME-COMING \ \ 
 
 'Just like them," said Rebecca with u sniff, and 
 lowering the light in the lamp. 
 
 " Of course your master could do no other than drive 
 her home, under the circumstances ; but I don't like it." 
 
 Mrs. Dean's tone w r as low but emphatic. 
 
 The servant-woman stood by the table, and looked at 
 her mistress intently. 
 
 "Why," she said, "she's only a bit of a child." 
 
 " Child 1 " echoed Mrs. Dean ; " you should see her, 
 Rebecca. You forget what two or three years does for a 
 girl of fifteen." 
 
 " Why, what is she like now then, mistress 1 " asked 
 Rebecca, drawing nearer the hearth ; " she was plain 
 enough as a little lass." 
 
 " She's grown from a plain girl into a beautiful young 
 lady there's no denying the fact. And Mr. Bryan is 
 quite taken with her; I saw it by the way he looked 
 at her ; it is no use denying that either it will have to 
 be faced." 
 
 " Mistress ! " cried Rebecca, with a world of meaning in 
 the expression. 
 
 "It is true," said Mrs. Dean, looking sternly in the 
 fire. 
 
 " And you think she'll spoil everything ? " asked the 
 woman, dropping on her knees on the hearthrug and 
 looking up in her mistress' face. 
 
 "I do not think so," said Mrs. Dean sharply; "she 
 must not she shall not ; but it will take all our wits 
 yours and mine, Rebecca to prevent it." 
 
 The woman's face, which was plain almost to ugliness, 
 lit up at the expression " yours and mine." It had been 
 purposely used ; it strengthened the bond between them 
 a strong bond of very many years' standing.
 
 12 DEAN-HURST 
 
 " Nothing on earth must be allowed to interfere with 
 that," continued the mistress. 
 
 The servant nodded her head, which was adorned (?) 
 with an ugly black cap, two or three times, and looked 
 again up in her mistress' face. In the firelight it looked 
 like bronze in colour, and as hard and fixed as a face in 
 that metal. But even as she looked the expression 
 relaxed, and the face became troubled. 
 
 " All was going so well," she said bitterly ; " Miss Zillah 
 and Miss Whaite becoming fast friends, and Miss Whaitq 
 ready to Oh, I cannot bear to think of it ! " she cried, 
 springing up from her seat. 
 
 Rebecca sprang up too. "Nay, nay, mistress," she 
 said, venturing to touch Mrs. Dean's arm; "aren't yo' 
 frightened too soon? Why, there's many a bonnier lass 
 than Miss Joyce can be as goes to Dean Head Chapel, 
 there's Miss Warwick, for one, an' Mr. Bryan takes no 
 more notice of 'em than if they was so many crow-boggarts ; 
 an' why should he " 
 
 " There is no ' why ' or ' wherefore' in these things, 
 Rebecca," interrupted Mrs. Dean grimly; "and I tell you 
 I saw it in him." 
 
 " Well," said Rebecca musingly, " even if it should be 
 so, there's t' way we've thought on all along, t' old way 
 left." 
 
 "The old way," said Mrs. Dean contemptuously ; " we 
 should each have one foot, if not both feet, in the grave before 
 we reached the goal that way, and I am more and more 
 persuaded of that. There is always something happening 
 to run away with the savings a fire, or a flood, or a bad 
 spell of trade." 
 
 " Then," said Rebecca, " is all our ' nippin' ways,' as my 
 sister Marihda calls 'em, of no good at all, mistress ? "
 
 THE HOME-COMING 13 
 
 I didn't say so," said Mrs. Dean, in a tone of 
 alarm ; we must go on save, save, saving just the same ; 
 the money may be wanted in any case for fathers are 
 not always like daughters there must be no relaxation 
 in that." 
 
 "I understand, mistress," said Rebecca, stooping to 
 pick up a fallen cinder and putting it back on the fire, 
 which sadly wanted stirring and a little more coal on. 
 
 " This is a misfortune which has happened," said Mrs. 
 Dean, summing up as it were ; " but, as I said before, it 
 must and shall be met. We must get Miss Zillah on our 
 side, if possible, and then we shall easily manage to keep 
 Miss. Joyce out of the house at any rate ; and, thank 
 goodness, she has no grown-up brothers there will be no 
 excuse for master's going to the Manse." 
 
 " Chapel House, I call it," said Rebecca. " I make 
 nothin' o' yo'r newfangled names." 
 
 " Call it what you like, so that you keep Miss Joyce 
 in it and Mr. Bryan out of it," said Mrs. Dean. 
 
 Rebecca laughed, a harsh, discordant laugh, and went 
 her way into the kitchen. Her mistress sat down in the 
 dark, until she again heard the sound of wheels; then 
 she sprang up, applied the poker to the fire, and made a 
 ruddy blaze, turned up the light in the lamp, and went 
 again to the door to meet her son. 
 
 " Sam is just in time," he said, as he strode into the 
 light; "he has had to come on 'shanks' Galloway,' as he 
 calls it, and I hardly expected him yet. I thought I 
 should have had to take Boxer out myself." 
 
 "Was there no cab to be had at Beckfoot?" asked 
 Mrs. Dean, in a manner which she strove to make appear 
 off-hand. 
 "There was none at the station," said Bryan; "at
 
 14 DEAN-HURST 
 
 least there had been one, Miss Joyce said, but it was 
 hired and away before she knew there was no one to meet 
 her." 
 
 " There ought to have been someone there," said Mrs. 
 Dean, not quite able to hide her irritation. " They are 
 such blundering people at the Manse." 
 
 "Mother!" expostulated Bryan. Then, seating him- 
 self, he went on quietly, " It was as I thought : they had 
 not received her letter giving the time she would arrive." 
 
 " She did not post it in time, I'll be bound." 
 
 "I don't know about that," said Bryan, stooping to un- 
 fasten his shoes. 
 
 "It's no use your troubling to unlace those, Bryan/' 
 said his mother : " you'll have Zillah to fetch home from 
 Undercragg." 
 
 " Zillah at Undercragg again ! " exclaimed Bryan, 
 raising his body and his eyebrows at the same time. 
 "Why, isn't this the third time this week?" 
 
 " Yes," said his mother ; " and Agatha Whaite would 
 have her there every day of the week if she had her mind 
 or be here," she added, as an afterthought. 
 
 " That friendship is too hot to last, I should say," said 
 Bryan with a smile. "Besides," he went on, with 
 another smile and rising to his feet, " Zillah won't have 
 time to go there so much now that her old friend Joyce 
 Warwick has come back." 
 
 " When friendships are once broken off. it does not follow 
 they will ever be renewed," said Mrs. Dean coldly. 
 
 " I wasn't aware theirs ever had been broken off," said 
 Bryan in a surprised tone. "Zillah and Joyce never 
 quarrelled, did they ] " 
 
 " Not that I know of," said Mrs. Dean, as if it were a 
 matter of no importance of which she were speaking,
 
 THE HOME-COMING 15 
 
 instead of one almost of life and death ; " but they were 
 children before, now they are both grown up. Zillah has 
 other friends, and I daresay Miss Joyce has also." 
 
 " But she's not one to forget old friends, for all that," 
 said Bryan ; " she's been talking a good deal about 
 Zillah." 
 
 " Has she 1 " said Mrs. Dean drily. " Well, never 
 mind ; here's Eebecca with the teapot." 
 
 " I'll be down in a minute," said Bryan, rushing out of 
 the room and upstairs to wash his hands. 
 
 Rebecca stopped at the parlour door and watched him. 
 
 "I know now as sornethin's up," she said to her 
 mistress, coming forward and putting down the teapot 
 with a bang. 
 
 "Why, how so?" asked Mrs. Dean. 
 
 "He's gone upstairs three steps at a time," said 
 Eebecca. 
 
 Mrs. Dean's thin lips relaxed, and she actually laughed. 
 
 " How absurd you are, Kebecca ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " Well, mistress, yo' say yo' know by one thing, an' I 
 say I know by another; an' I say again, somethin's up 
 wi' t' young masther ; he's niver gone upstairs three at a 
 time sin' he was a lad, and he niver did it then except 
 when somethin'd pleased him special, sich as when he'd 
 got a new toy-machine or a prize at school, or he'd 
 licked a big lad for abusin' a little un I know." 
 
 " Hush ! he's coming," said Mrs. Dean. 
 
 Whereupon Rebecca discreetly retired into the kitchen, 
 muttering to herself, "Mistress is right; I thought she 
 couldn't be, but I know it for myself now." 
 
 Bryan Dean re-entered the room, glanced at the table 
 as he seated himself thereat, and said, but quite good- 
 humouredly
 
 16 DEAN-HURST 
 
 " I'm more than bread-and-butter hungry, mother." 
 
 Mrs. Dean smiled, and pulled the bell-rope by her side ; 
 and when, in response, Rebecca reappeared and she was told 
 to bring the cold joint, that domestic raised her eyebrows 
 a little. 
 
 Bryan cut himself a very modest portion, and when, by 
 and by, he seemed to be contemplating a second helping, 
 he glanced at his mother. 
 
 "Has this to do for to-morrow's dinner 1 !" he asked, turning 
 his regards again to the remains of the leg of mutton. 
 
 " Certainly," said Mrs. Dean. 
 
 And Bryan thereupon laid down the carver without 
 another word ; neither, indeed, spoke again for the space 
 of three minutes. Then the mother broke the silence. 
 
 "This pinching need not last very long," she said, "if 
 you will be wise, Bryan, and act upon the hint I gave 
 you a week or two since. I am more and more convinced 
 that I am right. It's not Zillah that Agatha Whaitc 
 wants it's yourself; there now, that's plain speaking." 
 
 " I think it is, mother, with a vengeance," said the son, 
 putting aside his plate ; " and I don't think you have any 
 right to speak so it doesn't seem nice." 
 
 Mrs. Dean frowned as she replied 
 
 " I don't think it is nice, Bryan, for you to answer me 
 so." 
 
 " I'm sure I beg your pardon, mother, if I have vexed 
 you," said Bryan in a softer tone ; " but really " 
 
 " If I were not speaking and acting entirely for your 
 own good, and for the one object of your life and mine, 
 it would be different," said Mrs. Dean ; " but when I 
 am showing you a good way an easy way to our goal, 
 and happiness for yourself and someone else besides, 
 not to mention myself, and surely you might consider
 
 THE HOME-COMING i; 
 
 me a little after all my self-denial, for you to turn round 
 and say it is not nice " 
 
 Bryan Dean pushed his chair back, rose from it, and 
 went and stood on the hearth-rug before his mother. 
 
 "I did not mean to vex you ; you know I did not; 
 I" 
 
 "Well then," she said, "will you promise me to 
 notice for yourself, and if you find my words are true, 
 to act accordingly 1 " 
 
 " Irrespective of my own feelings 1 " asked Bryan 
 Dean. 
 
 " Feelings can be cherished and controlled, like other 
 things," said Mrs. Dean ; " and if you wish to care for 
 Agatha Whaite, you can do so." 
 
 " Kather a new doctrine that, isn't it 1 " asked Bryan 
 with a laugh. 
 
 "Nothing of the kind," said his mother. "It's one 
 that people are acting upon every day, with not half 
 the need that you have." 
 
 Bryan did not reply, but dropped into the arm-chair 
 on the opposite side of the fireplace. 
 
 Looking first at one and then at the other, you could 
 see what a strong likeness there was between the two 
 faces, and yet how, in many ways, they differed. Mother 
 and son had the same finely-moulded firm chin, the 
 same broad brow, the same contour of cheek; but the 
 son's mouth was more mobile, his nose was straight, 
 not aquiline, and his eyes, though dark, beamed with 
 a kindlier light. Like his mother, he was tall and thin 
 in figure, but he had a good breadth of shoulder, and 
 his form was well-knit. Altogether, Bryan Dean was 
 such a son as any mother might well be proud to look 
 upon. And when Mrs. Dean could not only say of him, as
 
 1 8 DEAN-HURST 
 
 she now often said, " He's a real Dean," but could add, 
 "and he is a Dean of Dean-Hurst," she felt that life 
 could give her no more satisfaction. 
 
 " I'm tired to - night," said Bryan, shelving the 
 subject of discussion ; " I wish I hadn't to go out again," 
 and he crossed his legs, pushed his hand amongst his 
 dark locks, and gazed into the fire. 
 
 Mrs. Dean was not pleased at this wish, seeing that 
 Bryan's destination was Undercragg, and that going 
 thither he would see Agatha Whaite. She thought it 
 wiser to say nothing, however, and only the click of 
 the knitting-needles broke the silence, for Bryan had 
 fallen to musing. What did he see amongst the dully- 
 glowing coals which brought that smile to his face by 
 and by? Was it Joyce Warwick he was thinking of 1 ? 
 his mother wondered; and her thin lips drew together 
 tightly, and her eyebrows knit. 
 
 Mrs. Dean was not far wrong. Bryan was back in 
 thought at Beckfoot Station, and the little scene of an 
 hour or two before was being re-enacted. First, his 
 noticing a young girl a stranger, as he thought a girl 
 with such a sweet, attractive face, that, with no need 
 whatever to go again in her direction, he had been 
 impelled to do so, that he might, in passing, enjoy 
 another look. But it was what had happened next 
 which brought the smile of pleasure as he recalled it. 
 For, suddenly, the stranger had hurried towards him, 
 with both hands outstretched, which he had taken in 
 his of course he seemed still to feel their touch and 
 with a joyous exclamation had addressed him 
 
 " Mr. Bryan Dean ! I thought it was you when you 
 passed before, but you were a little too far away, and 
 I wasn't quite sure. Oh, how good it is to see a familiar
 
 THE HOME-COMING 19 
 
 face ! But you have forgotten me, I see you have quite 
 forgotten little Joyce Warwick." 
 
 " Little Joyce Warwick ! " exclaimed Bryan. 
 
 " Yes," laughed the girl, enjoying his astonishment. 
 " I am not so very little now, am I ? " 
 
 " No," said Bryan. " You have grown from a child 
 into a" he had almost said "beautiful woman," but he 
 stopped himself. 
 
 Also, quite unconsciously, the girl interrupted him. 
 " Isn't it too bad ! " she said, " there is not a soul here to 
 meet me that I can find." 
 
 And then Bryan had, of course, offered to take her 
 in charge, and, after arranging to send down for her 
 luggage the following morning, had driven away with 
 her up Beck Dean she almost wild with delight at her 
 home-coming one minute, and almost in tears the next 
 at the apparent neglect of her friends. She had left 
 Brussels a month ago, she told Bryan, but had been 
 staying in Lincolnshire with two schoolfellows with 
 whom she had journeyed to England. 
 
 " And oh, it is so good to see the hills again ! " said 
 Joyce enthusiastically. "For in Lincolnshire, as in 
 Belgium, the country just looks as if it had been ironed 
 out flat." 
 
 Bryan had laughed at that, and then Joyce had 
 laughed laughter is contagious the most musical laugh 
 possible. Joyce had had a great many eager questions 
 to ask too, about her father and the rest of the family at 
 the Manse, and about Bryan's mother and his sister Zillah. 
 
 Altogether that drive had been a very pleasant ex- 
 perience ; and as Bryan Dean put on his hat, and went 
 down the Dean to fetch home the said Zillah, he was 
 thinking more of her old friend than her new one.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 DEAN HEAD MANSE 
 
 " Hailed the bright promise of your early day !" Hebcr. 
 
 " Affectionate in look ! 
 
 And tender in address ! as well becomes 
 
 A messenger of grace to guilty men ! " Coivpcr. 
 
 HE Rev. William Warwick was one of those 
 men, not unfrequently met with, whose 
 career is a disappointment to their friends. 
 A member of a refined Nonconformist 
 family in a good position, he had received a 
 high-class education, had graduated with honours at Cam- 
 bridge, and had commenced his ministerial career with 
 every promise of to use a common expression "making 
 his mark " in the ministerial world. The first church to 
 which he had been called was in a pleasant suburb of 
 London ; and there for a time his sermons, well-studied 
 and given forth with a natural eloquence, were listened 
 to by ever-increasing numbers. But by and by had 
 come a change. A severe illness attacked the minister, 
 leaving him slightly deaf and with a delicate throat. 
 His mental powers, too, either were, or one or two of his 
 
 deacons thought they were, slightly impaired, and "a 
 
 20
 
 DEAN HEAD MANSE 21 
 
 decided check" was felt to have been given to the 
 prosperity of the church at least so said the before- 
 mentioned deacons. It took no very long time for these 
 sayings to reach the minister's ears, and, sensitive to the 
 core, and shrinking more and more within himself as 
 the breath of disfavour blew upon him, Mr. Warwick 
 eventually felt his position untenable, and resigned the 
 pastorate he had entered upon with so much promise. 
 
 During the time that his star had been in the ascend- 
 ant, Mr. Warwick had married a young lady who was 
 a member of a neighbouring church. She had been as 
 much flattered by his selection of her, in preference to 
 any of the young ladies in his own congregation, as won 
 by his love ; and in marrying him, expected for him and 
 herself as brilliant a future as is possible for a Noncon- 
 formist minister and his wife. It was a sad blow to her 
 therefore, when, half a dozen years later, the clouds of 
 adversity, gathering for some time, thus culminated ; 
 and it was with a very discontented mind that she, 
 with her two baby-girls, accompanied her husband to his 
 new charge in a Northern provincial town. Discontent 
 is a very poor helper, and the minister had all his own 
 burdens to carry and his wife's also. He was as much 
 disappointed with himself as, he felt, she was disap- 
 pointed in him ; and this fact, together with his naturally 
 sweet temper and benevolent disposition, made Mr. 
 Warwick very tender with his wife, and very tolerant 
 of her grumblings. Moreover, his deafness had grown 
 upon him, and he did not hear half of them. 
 
 Ten years before our story opens, Mr. Warwick, after 
 another long spell of illness, had left the town and had 
 accepted the charge of a country church in an adjoining 
 county. Here he had become more and more of the
 
 22 DEAN-HURST 
 
 recluse and student neglecting no duty, visiting the 
 sick and his scattered members with regularity and a 
 true interest in his work, but seeing no other society, 
 and finding his solace and companionship in books. Of 
 course the minister had his family, four children living, 
 two lying in the chapel-yard ; but he had never been in 
 the habit of spending much time with them, partly owing 
 to the unfortunate deafness of which we have spoken. 
 Still, he loved them dearly, and often he had resolved 
 to make them his more constant companions ; but they 
 had their mother, and to be with her very much was to 
 him only a pain, and to her he felt that his society was 
 no great pleasure, so his resolves had melted, and old 
 habit had hardened. 
 
 But the presence of Joyce, back from Brussels, where 
 an aunt had sent her to finish her education, and especially 
 to perfect herself in French, was like daily sunshine, in 
 which resolves could grow again ; indeed, in which they 
 sprang spontaneously, and blossomed into wishes. And 
 she was not only like sunshine, with her pretty, loving, 
 bright ways, but like a fresh breeze in the house, with 
 her happy spirits and her active movements. Maud, the 
 elder daughter, infused with a degree of her mother's 
 discontent, and having, besides, a proud nature, inherited 
 from her, and a reserved one, transmitted from her father, 
 was stately in appearance, and quiet in manner and 
 speech ; but Joyce was quick both to feel and speak, and 
 though there might come a time when proof would not 
 be wanting that Joyce could both feel deeply and hide 
 her feelings, that time had not yet arrived. The girl's 
 home-affections were strong, and long separation from her 
 kinsfolk (the distance having prevented her return even 
 for the holidays) had made the reunion with them a very
 
 DEAN HEAD MANSE 23 
 
 joyful thing to her ; and no one at the Manse could pull 
 a very long face, for the first few days at anyrate, after 
 Joyce's return. Jack and Jill, the two younger ones, 
 otherwise John and Julia, were in the seventh heaven, 
 and dragged Joyce hither and thither at their own sweet 
 will; and Mr. Warwick felt that he could not cross 
 Cowley Common, or mount on to Eoyden Edge, in 
 pursuit of his calling, or for exercise, without asking 
 Joyce to put on her hat and go with him. Often the 
 two little ones Jack was nine, and Jill eight would 
 clamour to accompany them ; and so it came to pass that 
 the unprecedented spectacle was to be seen of the grave 
 minister of Dean Head tramping the country with three 
 of his children at his heels. 
 
 "I rayther doubted myself, Mester Warwick, about 
 this sendin' Miss Joyce to fureign parts," said old Ezra 
 Whixley, the handloom weaver who lived on the 
 Common ; " but they hannot spoiled her one bit ; she's 
 t' same lass as she went, only bigger an' bonnier." 
 
 And the sick woman on Royden Edge said " the very 
 sight of her " had done her good. 
 
 Joyce Warwick was indeed comely to look upon. She 
 had one of those faces the secret of whose charm is in- 
 describable, even when all its good points are told. Her 
 complexion was not specially good, she was neither a 
 blonde nor a brunette, her hair was brown, neither very 
 light nor very dark, but it was abundant, very glossy, and 
 slightly curly. Her nose was the least bit retroussd, and 
 it seemed to suit her face. She had a charming mouth, 
 pearly white teeth, and clear, frank, dark -blue eyes, 
 deeply fringed with lashes several shades darker than her 
 hair. But perhaps, more than in all else, the attraction 
 lay in the ever-changing expression of the face, and
 
 24 DEAN-HURST 
 
 the light of the loving human soul which looked out of 
 the eyes. 
 
 Though she was no longer, as she had said to Bryan 
 Dean, *' little Joyce Warwick," she was not by any 
 means tall, being rather below the middle height, 
 and was as slim and trim in figure as a girl still under 
 eighteen ought to be. 
 
 " I wonder why Zillah Dean does not come to see me," 
 said Joyce to her sister Maud. 
 
 It was on the Saturday, in the afternoon, she had 
 returned on the Tuesday, and the two were seated with 
 some sewing-work, at the front window of the family 
 sitting-room at the Manse or Chapel House. 
 
 " I did say to Mr. Bryan that I would call to see her," 
 continued Joyce ; " but when I mentioned it to mamma, 
 she said that of course it was Zillah 's place to come to see 
 me first." 
 
 " Mamma was quite right," said Maud in her slow, 
 stately way. 
 
 " But if we keep waiting for each other," said Joyce ; 
 "and I did say I would go and Zillah may think it 
 unkind and what do formalities matter between old 
 friends ? " 
 
 "You are not expecting to find Zillah just the same 
 as you left her, are you, Joyce ? " said Maud ; " because 
 if you are, you'll be disappointed. She's more 'grown- 
 up ' than you, and she has struck up a great friendship 
 with that rich Miss Whaite." 
 
 " Who is Miss Whaite ? " asked Joyce. 
 
 " Oh, let me see they have come to live at Undercragg 
 while you have been away; but you remember their 
 mills Lower Dean Mills 1 " 
 
 " Oh, they are Mr. Whaite's, are they ? " said Joyce.
 
 DEAN HEAD MANSE 25 
 
 " Yes ; he had them long before we came here ; but 
 he lived near some of his other mills until about two 
 years ago." 
 
 " Do the Whaites come to chapel ? " asked Joyce. 
 
 "No; they go to church," said Maud; "but Miss 
 Whaite often comes with Zillah." 
 
 "And you say Miss Whaite and Zillah are great 
 friends ; how has that come about ? " 
 
 " Oh, I think they met at some non-sectarian bazaar," 
 said Maud, in a tone which plainly indicated that she 
 thought the matter hardly worth discussion. 
 
 "Well," said Joyce brightly, "I am not going to be 
 jealous it is possible to have more than one friend ; and 
 though Zillah only wrote to me twice, I believe because 
 she hates writing letters so, I feel sure we shall still be 
 friends. But, Maud," she added, "just look at the clock. 
 I must put on my hat this minute, and go and meet papa 
 and the children." 
 
 Joyce's wardrobe was not in very good order, and, as 
 the morrow was Sunday, she had been compelled to stay 
 indoors to execute repairs ; but had promised her father 
 to meet him on his return from Cowley. This she now 
 set out to do. Joyce had barely let the garden -gate 
 clang to, however, and turned to the left towards Cowley 
 Common, when she heard her name ca'led, and turning 
 her head in the opposite direction, she saw two figures 
 those of Bryan Dean and his sister. 
 
 With swift feet, Joyce ran down the road to meet them. 
 
 " Zillah ! " she cried, with both hands outstretched as 
 she reached the girl. 
 
 Zillah put out one, looked, or tried to look, very 
 proper and young-ladyish, but glanced at Joyce's face 
 and then out came the other.
 
 26 DEAN-HURST 
 
 " Zillah, I am glad to see you," cried Joyce, kissing 
 her on both cheeks ; " and you are going to stay tea, are 
 you not and you, too, Mr. Bryan ? " and she shook hands 
 with him. " But I promised papa to meet him on his 
 way back from old Ezra Whixley's, and I am rather late 
 as it is. "Will you go in and see mamma and Maud, or 
 will you come with me 1 " 
 
 " Oh, I should like a walk on the Common immensely," 
 said Bryan ; " and so would you, Zillah, wouldn't you 1 " 
 he continued, turning to his sister. 
 
 "I don't know, I'm sure," said Zillah doubtfully. 
 " Shall we have time ? Mother said I wasn't to stay to tea." 
 
 " Oh, that is a pity," said Joyce ; " but, anyhow, you 
 can turn with me, and come a little way." 
 
 So the three passed the garden-gate of the Manse, and 
 took the rough cart-track skirting the wood on the right, 
 and steeply rising to Cowley Common. 
 
 "Let me look at you," said Joyce, passing her arm 
 through Zillah's. " Oh, you are the same little gipsy, I 
 see, though you are grown-up and pretend to look very 
 proper." 
 
 "It's a very thin covering of starch, I assure you," 
 said Bryan, laughing. "You'll soon break through it, 
 Miss Joyce, and teach her better than putting it on." 
 
 Zillah drew herself up a little, and Joyce felt her 
 stiffen herself. 
 
 " Oh, I shall not teach Zillah anything of the kind," 
 Joyce laughed. "She'll have to teach me instead. 
 Mamma says my manners 'lack repose,' and Maud thinks 
 the same." 
 
 " Oh, for pity's sake," cried Bryan, " don't learn that 
 lesson don't put on veneer just be yourself, Miss 
 Joyce."
 
 DEAN HEAD MANSE 27 
 
 "Well," said Joyce laughingly, "I'm afraid I should 
 find it difficult to be very prim, especially while I am 
 feeling so glad." 
 
 "I hope that feeling will last," said Bryan, his own 
 feeling that of gladness also as he trod the rough road by 
 Joyce's side. 
 
 "I don't know," said Joyce, glancing on her other 
 hand at Zillah ; " I am afraid I am going to suffer awfully 
 from jealousy the green-eyed monster. I am told of a 
 certain Miss Whaite, who is supposed to have stolen 
 Zillah's affections from me." 
 
 " Joyce," said Zillah, who was every moment 
 falling more into the old enchantment of her friend's 
 presence, "who has been saying such a thing?" 
 
 "Never mind that," said Joyce, "so that you can 
 contradict it." 
 
 "Well, of course," said Zillah, "Agatha Whaite is a 
 friend of mine ; that is true enough ; but " And here 
 Zillah stopped, suddenly remembering a warning of her 
 mother's. 
 
 " Zillah means to say," put in Bryan, " that in making 
 a new friend, she has not cast off the old." 
 
 Joyce rewarded him with a grateful look, while Zillah 
 barely acknowledged the sentiment her brother had 
 spoken on her behalf. 
 
 They walked on, Joyce recalling to Zillah's recollection 
 various escapades of their childhood's days, during 
 bramble and bilberry gatherings, wadings through the 
 becks, jumping from one " hippin " to another, etc. 
 
 " I cannot imagine," said Joyce, after they had laughed 
 over one little experience and another ; "I cannot imagine 
 a more delightful neighbourhood in which to spend one's 
 childhood than this is."
 
 28 DEAN-HURST 
 
 The question trembled on Bryan's tongue : " And how 
 about the rest of life ? " And though he did not give 
 utterance to it, it lodged in his mind, and brought some 
 other thoughts in its train which were, to say the least 
 of it, troublesome and inconvenient, if pleasurable in a 
 sense. 
 
 The laughter had cracked Zillah's starch more than 
 anything else could have done ; but all at once she 
 suddenly stiffened again, and remembered that she 
 "must go home." 
 
 "But you cannot turn back, so near papa and the 
 children," said Joyce. " See, there they are coming." 
 
 A minute afterwards, two little figures were seen to be 
 tearing headlong towards them ; they came too fast, how- 
 ever and, one after the other, they fell down on the 
 grass. 
 
 "Jack fell down and broke his stick," cried Joyce, 
 " and Jill came tumbling after." 
 
 Jack was up again in a moment, gazing ruefully at his 
 stick in two parts ; but poor little Jill lay still, and began 
 to cry. 
 
 Swift as the wind flew Joyce to her little sister's help, 
 and raised her, or rather attempted to do so, for the child 
 could not stand. 
 
 " Oh, my ankle, my ankle ! " she cried. 
 
 " She has sprained it, I fear," said Bryan, who had 
 come up. " Never mind, dear," he said ; " I will carry 
 you." And he took her up in his strong arms. 
 
 " But I want Joyce ! " cried the child. 
 
 "Oh, Joyce will walk close to you," said the girl. 
 " But," turning to Bryan, " will she not be too heavy for 
 you?" 
 
 " Not at all," said the young man.
 
 DEAN HEAD MANSE 29 
 
 Aiid just then Mr. Warwick coming up, greetings 
 were exchanged, and they all set their faces towards the 
 Manse, Joyce keeping her promise, and walking close to 
 Jill, consequently close to Bryan. She little knew what 
 mischief she was doing, nor how every step weakened 
 Bryan's power of resistance to the spell she was casting 
 over him. Every upward look of hers into her little 
 sister's face, every encouraging word, every ripple of 
 laughter helped in Bryan's undoing. 
 
 Zillah walked behind with Mr. Warwick, and 
 wondered what her mother would think if she saw the 
 two in front; for in giving Zillah permission to go to 
 the Manse, which she had done in order to prevent 
 Joyce's coming to Higher Dean, she had taken her into 
 her confidence to some extent, and had told her that 
 Joyce's coming home might ruin everything, if care were 
 not taken. 
 
 " So you must go to-day," she had said, "while Bryan 
 is at Greenroyd ; and you are not to stay to tea, and you 
 are not to ask Joyce to come 'any time,' but say you 
 will let her know what day she is to come." 
 
 For Mrs. Dean had reflected that it would never do, 
 after all, to attempt to keep Joyce entirely at arm's 
 length she might do more harm than good if she roused 
 Bryan's combative faculties so she would manage to 
 have her there occasionally, when Bryan was away on 
 business. 
 
 But whatever might become of other days, her arrange- 
 ments for this day had gone wrong, for Bryan's business 
 was soon done, and, instead of coming back by train, he 
 had walked over Hoyden Edge, and had dropped down 
 the hillside into Beck Dean, almost at Zillah's feet, about 
 a quarter of a mile above Higher Dean, and, with rather
 
 30 DEAN-HURST 
 
 unusual brotherly attention, had announced his purpose 
 of accompanying her on her walk. Zillah had thereupon 
 made know the purpose of her expedition, and told him 
 flatly she would not have him ; whereupon, in his turn, 
 Bryan had announced that if he might not accompany 
 Zillah to the Manse, neither would he, on another 
 occasion, accompany her to Undercragg, or fetch her 
 therefrom. And at this threat Zillah had given in, and 
 things had turned out even worse than she could possibly 
 have thought of ; and now, to crown all, rain was coming 
 on, and she had no cloak, and she would be obliged to 
 call at the Manse a little while, at anyrate, until the 
 shower was over. 
 
 "I think yoti and Miss Joyce had better run on, out 
 of the rain, Zillah," said Bryan, with great self-denial. 
 To tell the truth, he was finding Jill rather heavy, now 
 he had carried her nearly a mile, and he could not walk 
 more quickly himself. 
 
 " You will be all right, Jill ; you will be home directly," 
 said Joyce, preparing to follow Bryan's advice. But Jill 
 began to cry, and Zillah had to run on with Jack for 
 company ; and Mr. Warwick, too, got a little in front ; 
 and Bryan, except the child in his arms, had Joyce all to 
 himself for a little space, and, notwithstanding the rain, 
 he lingered. Yes, Jill was decidedly heavy. 
 
 Tea was ready, and looked very inviting, when the 
 party gained the Manse ; and as the rain still poured 
 down, there was nothing for it but to accept the 
 minister's hospitality ; indeed, Bryan had got so far that 
 he inwardly blessed the rain. 
 
 Good housewifery is much thought of in the county of 
 Stonyshire, and in that part of; it particularly where 
 Beck Dean is situated, and Mrs. Warwick's "ways "had
 
 \ 
 
 Jill Wix<j 
 
 cteaided \y
 
 DEAN HEAD MANSE 33 
 
 on her first arrival been much criticised. It was soon 
 known throughout the community how often the bed- 
 rooms were "turned out," and in what way; on which 
 day the washing was done, and how long the clothes 
 " were about," etc., and the verdict was general dis- 
 approval. 
 
 " They know nothin' about followin' a house, down i' 
 t' south," said one good woman ; " leastways, so they tell 
 me I've never been myself, but if yo may judge by 
 those 'at comes." 
 
 " Well, I have," said another Dean Headite, who was 
 her auditor, and speaking very emphatically; "and it 
 seems to me that cleaning, London way, is never any- 
 thing but a ' lick and a promise,' as my mother used to 
 say." 
 
 " I wonder how they can abide," said the first speaker, 
 " such shiftless work ! " 
 
 The household management at the Manse was still 
 talked of sometimes; but, following a law which seems 
 to be at work in all departments of life, it had to some 
 extent adapted itself to its environment, and the washing 
 was by this time generally done on the same day as other 
 folk's, and the carpets were taken up oftener, and the 
 baking was done at home. Many had been the strictures on 
 the minister's family living on " bought bread " ; and great 
 interest was taken in the fact, when it was known for the 
 first time, that a load of flour had been ordered and taken 
 to the " Chapel House." Keports certainly leaked out, 
 afterwards, of blocks of some heavy substance, which 
 ought to have been bread, having been thrown out, and 
 of the minister having a severe fit of indigestion ; but 
 then everything worth anything must have a beginning. 
 
 To-night there was sweet, light household bread on the 
 
 3
 
 34 DEAN-HURST 
 
 tea-table at the Manse, at whose production Mrs. Warwick 
 had herself assisted, though she always averred that 
 baking-day half-killed her. And there were home- 
 preserved fruits and salad, and a dish of new-laid eggs ; 
 and, for ornament, a bowl of chrysanthemums which had 
 grown in a sheltered nook of the minister's garden, and 
 which Joyce had gathered. 
 
 Joyce was so happy, and enjoyed herself so much, that 
 her spirits affected even the gravest amongst the party ; 
 and if it be true that laughter aids digestion, the food 
 taken around that tea-table must have been easily 
 assimilated. 
 
 Towards the end of the meal, a thought occurring to 
 Bryan, he turned to the minister and asked 
 
 " By the way, Mr. Warwick, has application been made 
 yet about the new lease 1 " 
 
 "Yes, the agent has been seen," said the minister, 
 "but" and then he paused. "If you will come into 
 my study, after tea," he went on, the next minute, " I 
 will tell you about it, Mr. Bryan." And after a little chat 
 by the fire, Bryan followed the minister into his sanctum. 
 " Ah, you have come to hear about the lease," said Mr. 
 Warwick, glancing round to see that the door was closed. 
 " I don't want to make my wife uneasy, and, so far, I 
 think she knows nothing about this unfortunate business. 
 Mr. Sowcroft refuses to renew the lease, except upon 
 terms which our deacons find it impossible to accept. It 
 really seems as if he wished to turn us out of the 
 premises." 
 
 "That is very unfortunate," said Bryan; "but surely 
 he can hardly wish that, if only for his own sake, or 
 Captain Crimsworth's. What good would the chapel 
 and manse be to him, left empty 1 ?"
 
 DEAN HEAD MANSE 35 
 
 "No good, that I can see," said the minister; "but 
 neither greed nor prejudice argues that way and he 
 thinks he has us in his power." 
 
 "He is a Churchman, of course," said Bryan, "and so 
 is his master ; but only in name, I should say, from all I 
 hear of him." 
 
 "And he is a spendthrift, and wants all he can get, I 
 suppose," said the minister. " I understand his property 
 is nearly all mortgaged up to the hilt your old place 
 included, Mr. Bryan." 
 
 " Yes," said Bryan with a sigh, and a thought of his 
 mother ; "Mr. Whaite holds the mortgage on Dean-Hurst." 
 
 " So I understand," said Mr. Warwick ; adding, as he 
 looked admiringly on Bryan, " If justice were poetic, you 
 ought to hold it, and foreclose." 
 
 "Yes," said Bryan, "it is the ambition of my life to 
 get back that old family property, and my mother is even 
 more bent upon it than I am." 
 
 " How long have the Crimsworths held it ? " asked the 
 minister, stirring up his fire. 
 
 " Oh," said Bryan, " nearly a hundred years, I should 
 say. It was my greatgrandfather who let it go." 
 
 " He was a spendthrift, I presume," said the minister, 
 holding up his thin white hands to the blaze. 
 
 " Yes," said Bryan ; " mortgaged the property in his 
 young days ; and when he was old, the Crimsworths 
 foreclosed. And since then we have always been poor," 
 added Bryan mournfully. 
 
 "'The sins of the fathers' the old law," murmured 
 the minister. 
 
 "It seems a cruel one," said Bryan. 
 
 "It is inevitable," said the minister; "effects must 
 proceed from causes. God must be continually working
 
 36 DEAN-HURST 
 
 miracles, otherwise. If men would only look this law in 
 the face, and square their lives by it, we should have 
 fewer mischiefs done, fewer spoilt lives and impoverished 
 families. But men go blindly on, leaving things to 
 chance ; and " But the minister stopped with a smile, 
 and then said 
 
 "It is not Sunday yet, Mr. Bryan, and still I am 
 preaching you a sermon one you do not need, either, 
 for you are not one of the reckless kind. And you have 
 a purpose in life and that is what few men have and 
 one which is commendable, so that it can be honourably 
 achieved, though our life does not consist in the abund- 
 ance of the things which we possess. It is well for some 
 of us that it is so," said the minister with another smile, 
 glancing round at his barely-furnished study. "About 
 the lease we were speaking of," he added ; "our deacons 
 mean to see Captain Crirnsworth himself, when he returns 
 from abroad, and it is to be hoped something will be 
 done then." 
 
 Bryan echoed the hope, and the two had begun to talk 
 of something else when there was a knock at the study 
 door, followed by the entrance of Joyce. 
 
 "I don't know what makes Zillah so fidgety, Mr. 
 Bryan," she said ; " but I can't keep her another minute, 
 now the rain is over ; she is now putting on her hat to 
 go home." 
 
 "Then I must needs put on mine, I suppose," said 
 Bryan, rising. 
 
 And in a few more minutes the brother and sister 
 were on their way down the valley Zillah very sulky, 
 thinking of her probable scolding, and Bryan wishing, 
 somehow, that he had not told the minister of his 
 ambition.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 " DEAN HEAD CHAPEL " AND " DEAN-HURST " 
 
 " We who are not ethereal creatures, but of mixed and diverse 
 nature ; we who, when we look our clearest towards the skies, must 
 still have our standing-ground of earth secure it is strange what 
 relations of personal love we enter into with the scenes of this 
 lower sphere." Washington Irving. 
 
 ' ' There is no man who has not some interesting associations with 
 particular scenes." Alison. 
 
 ' ' To love the little platoon we belong to in society is the germ of 
 all public affections." Charles Lamb. 
 
 EAN HEAD CHAPEL had been built for 
 the accommodation of a widely - scattered 
 district, at that time nearly ninety-nine 
 years before the time of our story only 
 sparsely populated too. It had taken the 
 place of one still more remote from the common haunts 
 of men, and had been placed near the head of the valley 
 or dean, at a time when men were beginning to take 
 advantage of the power which water could give them, and 
 were erecting mills on the banks of the beck which ran 
 through it. 
 
 Ninety-nine years seems a long time, looking forward, 
 and doubtless the promoters of the chapel-building 
 
 37
 
 38 DEAN- HURST 
 
 thought they might well leave the future beyond that 
 to their posterity when they accepted a lease for that 
 period. But, one by one, the years of the then future had 
 been added to the years of the past, and now the last one 
 of the ninety and nine had been entered upon, and 
 " posterity " dubbed it a foolish thing which their 
 ancestors had done, in erecting good buildings on so short 
 a lease. 
 
 " Nine hundred and ninety-nine, it had ought to have 
 been," said Ambrose Widdop, a small farmer of Royden 
 Edge, west of Beck Dean, and one of the oldest deacons 
 at Dean Head. "Yo' wouldn't find me hardly puttin' 
 up a mistle, niver name a chapel, upon a short lease." 
 
 " 'Appen they couldn't get a long 'un," remarked his 
 hearer; "i' those days, I dar'say, folk didn't get a' they 
 wanted, no more than they do now." 
 
 " Well, I'd ha'e built somewhere else then," said 
 Farmer Widdop. Ninety-nine year ! Why, it is nothin', 
 in a way o' speakin'." 
 
 "Well, as however it be, Ambrose, it's varry near 
 spun out," said the other, " an' unless it's renewed, an' 
 that varry soon, we'st be in a fix." 
 
 "Somebody '11 ha'e to go to th' fountain-head," said 
 Mr. Widdop, "iiob'dy can do a bit o' good wi' th' agent. 
 They're like as if they have no conscience, hasn't agents ; 
 there's no gettin' houd on 'em, no road. If yo' tell 'em 
 they're hard, they'll tell yo' straight out as they're only 
 doin' their duty to their maisters. An' they stop your 
 mouth that road. Somebody'll ha'e to go to th' fountain- 
 head, I tell yo', an' I think it had t' best be our parson. 
 He looks like an owd duke, I al'ays say an' looks count 
 for som'hat, especially wi' t' quality. Look at him now." 
 The speakers were in the chapel-yard, for service was
 
 . 
 
 ,'rt TiotV.n 1 , 
 in A WAV o'sp*kirv
 
 DEAN HEAD CHAPEL AND DEAN-HURST 41 
 
 just over, and, as is common where a congregation is 
 gathered from several directions, there were friendly 
 greetings and a little gossip going on. Joyce was being 
 heartily greeted by one and another, and many were the 
 comments upon her appearance, both to her face and 
 "behind her back." Indeed, there had not been wanting 
 a few whispered ones during servjce-time, amongst the 
 younger portion of the congregation. 
 
 Mr. Warwick smiled as he came out of the chapel and 
 saw what was going on. 
 
 " Taking all hearts by storm here, as elsewhere," he 
 said to himself, as he went forward to shake hands with 
 Farmer Widdop and his friend, the former of whom again 
 stated what he thought ought to be done. 
 
 " Some of our friends think we should give the place 
 up, and build lower down the valley," said Mr. Warwick. 
 
 " What ! Give it up ? Give the old place up ? " cried 
 the farmer ; and, instinctively, he and the others turned to 
 look at it, though every stock and stone was as familiar as 
 their own faces. 
 
 It was a plain enough building, in all conscience, which 
 they saw. It was of the black-grey stone of the district, 
 and weather-beaten withal. It had no porch or vestibule 
 of any kind ; but its two doors, open now, revealed the 
 drab-painted pews within. A " singing gallery " stretched 
 the whole width of the chapel behind the pulpit, and was 
 built above the two vestries. The pulpit itself and the 
 fronts of the galleries for these ran on all four sides 
 were painted the pale yellow, dead-looking oak, so hideous, 
 and so affected formerly, in Dissenting chapels. It was 
 lighted by windows almost square in shape, except the 
 two between the doors, which had rounded heads. Alto- 
 gether, the chapel had scarcely one attractive feature ;
 
 42 DEAN-HURST 
 
 but and how much is bound up in those few words ! it 
 was " the old place " ! 
 
 Outside, there was seen to join up to it the " Chapel 
 House," built of the same dark stone, and, like it, without 
 any ornament whatever. There was a window, about the 
 same size as the chapel windows, on each side of the front 
 door, and three on the higher storey, but the curtains and 
 blinds of these gave the house a more cheerful appearance 
 than the chapel. A low stone wall divided the manse 
 garden from the chapel graveyard, and an iron gate gave 
 communication between the two. At first when she had 
 come to Dean Head, poor Mrs. Warwick hardly dared to 
 look out of the windows as night came on, afraid, as she 
 said to her husband, that she might "see something 
 ghostly." The graveyard ran also along the eastern side 
 of the chapel, and was bounded there by a small school- 
 room an oblong building of two storeys. The chapel- 
 keeper's house, the windows of which looked directly 
 upon the gravestones, stood back to the north ; the door 
 of it opened on the other side. It had always been one 
 of the Warwick children's treats to go into Absalom 
 Eodley's cottage (Absalom was the chapel-keeper), be 
 treated by his wife to her " hard-cakes," and shout to her 
 down her ear-trumpet, for, like the minister, she was 
 deaf, but very much worse than he was. Mrs. Rodley 
 thought the world of the minister's children ; and she had 
 missed Joyce sadly whilst she had been away, especially 
 as " Miss Maud " had quite given up coming in to see her, 
 now she was grown up. But there were still Master 
 Jack and Miss Jill, and perhaps Miss Joyce now she was 
 back, though she had grown up, too, into a beautiful young 
 lady. Indeed, she had already run in to see her two or 
 three times the darling !
 
 DEAN HEAD CHAPEL AND DEAN-HURST 43 
 
 "You've had the chapel rather warm this morning, 
 Absalom, haven't you ? " said the minister, as a man with 
 a short, squat figure appeared, to close the doors. " I 
 should leave those open a while, I think." 
 
 " "Well, I don't know, Mr. Warwick ; it seemed to me 
 about right." 
 
 " Well, but how is it by the thermometer ? " asked the 
 minister. " I think if you look " 
 
 " I don't go by no termonitor, Mester Warwick," said 
 Absalom, " I goes by my feelin's. It was a bit frosty this 
 inornin', an' so I fires up." 
 
 " But the sun soon warms the air in September," said 
 the minister with a smile. " You must remember that, 
 Absalom." 
 
 Mr. Warwick held out his hand to Farmer Widdop, 
 who was still gazing at the chapel. 
 
 " You don't like the idea of changing 1" he said, as he 
 bade him " Good-morning." 
 
 " No," said the farmer. " My mother and father was 
 married here, an' they're buried just o'er yonder " (pointing 
 towards the chapel-keeper's house); "I was kestened 
 here an' married here, an' it seems to me, if I'm not 
 buried here, I should hardly lie still anywheer else." 
 
 " Eh, Ambrose, but thou would that," said his friend, 
 practical and unpoetical ; " dead's dead, anywheer ! " 
 
 Most of the groups had dispersed when Mr. Warwick 
 passed through the gateway into his garden, but Joyce 
 still lingered. She was talking with George and Fanny 
 Farrar, the son and daughter of his senior deacon, who, 
 with his wife, was slowly descending the hill, until the 
 young people should overtake them. 
 
 Along with them were walking, Mrs. Dean and Zillah 
 and Bryan, the latter inwardly fuming, and feeling that
 
 44 DEAN-HURST 
 
 he had been defrauded of something, seeing that he had 
 been unable to get more than a nod and a smile from 
 Joyce. 
 
 Zillah's dark, gipsy-like face wore a little frown it was 
 too bad that everybody else should be overlooked, just 
 because Joyce Warwick had come back ; and she half- 
 turned her head to see how long George Farrar was going 
 to stay in the chapel-yard yet. 
 
 " I think Fanny is trying to fix a clay for Maud and 
 Joyce to come up," said Mrs. Farrar, good-naturedly. 
 " You'd better come too, Zillah, and you, Mr. Bryan ; 
 we'll let you know when." 
 
 Mrs. Farrar was very short and very fat, and her 
 flesh shook as she walked down the steep road. 
 
 " I shall be very glad to come, thank you," said Bryan, 
 not waiting for Zillah's answer. 
 
 " It will depend what day," said Zillah, warned by a 
 look in her mother's eye. " But," she added, impelled by 
 her own wish, " I shall come if I can I should like to, 
 thank you." 
 
 "You cannot be altogether out, Zillah," said Mrs. 
 Dean sharply ; " and you have two engagements this 
 week with Agatha Whaite." 
 
 " Well, anyhow, we'll hope she can come," said Mrs. 
 Farrar; "she and Joyce used to be such friends, I 
 remember. And if she cannot," she added, turning to 
 Bryan, "we shall be glad to see you all the same." 
 
 " Thank you," said Bryan, feeling very fond of Mrs. 
 Farrar just then ; " I will come, then, in any case, if 
 possible." 
 
 Mrs. Dean, on the other hand, could have shaken 
 Mrs. Farrar at that moment. Everything seemed to be 
 going against her. She had not yet got over yesterday,
 
 DEAN HEAD CHAPEL AND DEAN-HURST 45 
 
 with its unfortunate circumstances. And this morning 
 she had noticed that Bryan's eyes had, nearly all service- 
 time, been turned upon the Manse pew. And if there 
 were to be meetings here and there, tea-drinkings, etc., 
 Bryan's new-born infatuation possible, perhaps, for him 
 to overcome now would thrive and very likely master 
 him. Then what would become of her life's ambition 
 what would be the end of all her hard work, her self- 
 denial, her scheming 1 Was a mere slip of a girl, simply 
 because she had a fair face, to put forth her fingers and 
 snuff out for ever this hope for which she had slaved 1 
 Something akin to hatred of the girl sprang up in the 
 woman's heart at the thought. 
 
 Besides having married one of the family, Mrs. Dean 
 was a Dean by birth. Her husband had been her second 
 cousin, and, in accepting him, this thought of acquiring 
 once again the old family estate had been a factor in her 
 decision. She expected at that time to inherit a con- 
 siderable fortune ; and her idea was, that her husband's 
 means and her own conjoined might effect that which, 
 alone, neither could do. She had loved him in a sense, 
 but she was a woman of such self-dependent nature, and 
 of such self-control, that she could easily have mastered 
 what feeling she had for him, and would have chosen to 
 do so, had she acted without other motive. " But," she 
 had reflected, " he is too easy-going to work this himself, 
 though he wishes it ; therefore I must marry him, join 
 my money to his when I get it, and spur him up to set 
 about the business. Surely the Crimsworths would sell 
 it, if they had a fair offer." And so she had married 
 Bryan Dean the elder. But it seemed as if the Fates 
 had been against her all along. Her father, after her 
 marriage, through unwise speculations, had lost nearly all
 
 46 DEAN-HURST 
 
 his money, and at his death she had, therefore, inherited 
 very little. Her husband had proved even more " easy- 
 going " than she had thought him, and his own business, 
 in consequence, had not been so remunerative as it ought 
 to have been. Then had come his death, with nothing 
 accomplished. In middle age, therefore, Mrs. Dean had 
 found herself sitting, as it were, amidst the ruins of her 
 hopes, which, to a Avoman of her character, was as gall 
 and wormwood. And the bitterness of her cup was 
 accentuated by the fact that an opportunity had arisen, 
 could it have been taken advantage of, of gaining posses- 
 sion of the Dean-Hurst estate at anyrate of advancing 
 money upon it, which would eventually, in all human 
 probability, have secured it. But instead of her husband 
 being able to do it, some rich mill-owner in an adjoining 
 valley, who was " a nobody " a few years before, who had 
 " sprung from nothing," as it were, had found the needful 
 money ; and the goal seemed further off than ever. For 
 what would such a man like better, than to make his 
 own such a place as Dean-Hurst? 
 
 Still, Mrs. Dean was not the woman to give up any 
 project upon which she had set her heart whilst a ghost 
 of a chance remained for its achievement, and gradually 
 the hopes, so long frustrated, centred themselves in her 
 son. He was a lad of sixteen when his father died, and 
 when he was between seventeen and eighteen his mother 
 had unfolded to him her plan, and made him fully alive 
 to her hopes. And he was just the youth to grasp such 
 a situation : susceptible, sensitive, with a spice of romance 
 in his nature, he was able to enter into his mother's 
 feelings, and to share them. As he had grown older, so 
 had grown his interest in the matter, and his strength of 
 purpose to accomplish it. Under his mother's influence,
 
 DEAN HEAD CHAPEL AND DEAN-HURST 47 
 
 his pride of birth had increased; to have been born 
 a Dean, of the old family of Dean-Hurst, resident here for 
 hundreds of years, was a fact which had become more 
 and more a satisfaction to think of. Every time he 
 walked or drove down to Beckfoot Station he had to pass 
 the old house, for it was quite near to the road, and he 
 was at once filled with a mixed feeling of pride and 
 envy envy of the present owners and occupiers of it, 
 and pride in thinking that here had dwelt so long his 
 own ancestors. 
 
 Dean-Hurst had never been a large estate, and the 
 house was not large, but it was a most picturesque old 
 place. It was built of grey stone, had many gables, and 
 long mullioned windows. It had a large stone porch, 
 ornamented, as were the gables, with stone balls, and 
 above the porch was a rose-window. At the front, which 
 faced the road, and along one side, ran a narrow terraced 
 garden, with a high wall, and in this, opposite the front 
 door, was a latticed gate, and, at the side, large gates 
 opening on to the drive which led to the side door. 
 When either gate was open indeed you could, from the 
 footpath, peep through the lattice most tempting 
 glimpses could be had of the house and the delightful 
 old garden-beds, filled with the most fragrant of old- 
 fashioned flowers, and of many quaint devices, and an 
 ancient grey stone sundial in their midst. 
 
 The class to which the ancient Deans had belonged 
 seems now to be almost extinct. If it were not so, we 
 should doubtless, in these days of convenient diminutives, 
 dub its members "squireens." They were considerable 
 landowners, but of the humbler sort ; they seem to have 
 occupied a position between the yeoman and the county 
 magnate. They possessed coats-of-arms, and appear to
 
 48 DEAN-HURST 
 
 have been proud of the dignity, judging from the 
 frequency of their introduction into the ornamentation 
 of their houses. 
 
 Some of these families exist to-day, it is true ; but 
 they have either merged into the manufacturing class 
 and in some instances have thereby saved their old 
 manor-houses, and perhaps some portion of their estates 
 or they have, generally by marriage with heiresses, joined 
 land with land, and now rank with the highest in the 
 realm. Other such families have died out entirely ; 
 while not a few have gradually lost estate, ancestral home, 
 and original place in society, and have become merged 
 in the great mass of " common folk," some living near, 
 some far removed from the place of their former dignity. 
 
 The impoverished Deans had never moved far away. 
 The main stock, at anyrate, of which the Bryan Dean 
 we know was now the only living male representative, 
 had always remained in or near Beck Dean. Possibly 
 had they not been so " soil-socken," to use a provincial 
 phrase, it would have been better for them ; and a wider 
 field for enterprise might have more effectually furthered 
 the realisation of their dream of reinstatement in their 
 old ancestral home for, more or less vividly, this had 
 been the day-dream of each generation, since the folly 
 and extravagance of one or two former ones had resulted 
 in its alienation. 
 
 But all this time we have left the Deans, in whom we 
 are most interested, walking with the elder Farrars down 
 the steeply sloping lane which led from Dean Head 
 Chapel into the main road; and it was not until the 
 junction of these roads was reached that the younger 
 Farrars overtook them, and they had then only a very 
 short distance to walk together.
 
 DEAN HEAD CHAPEL AND DEAN-HURST 49 
 
 "Well, have you arranged it with Joyce?" asked Mrs. 
 Farrar; "because perhaps Zillah and Mr. Byran will 
 come too." 
 
 " Oh, that will be nice," said Fanny, who was a little, 
 round, plump, good-natured replica of her mother ; " but 
 Joyce could not say ' when ' ; perhaps she will to-night, 
 though. But she has somewhere to go with her father 
 one day, and she has promised to take the children some- 
 where else another, and the Robsons have made her 
 promise to go there another. And, as she says, if she 
 could be 'quartered' it would be very convenient just 
 now," laughed Fanny. 
 
 "You are going to spoil her amongst you, I think," 
 remarked Mr. Farrar, who was tall and gaunt, and a 
 little pompous in manner. 
 
 Mrs. Dean smiled a grim smile. " She is new yet," she 
 said. 
 
 Zillah, meantime, was holding her head very high 
 as high as it would go, that is as she walked by George 
 Farrar's side ; he had immediately joined her. 
 
 " I am glad to hear that you are coming up to Edge 
 House this week," he said by and by, looking down at 
 the little dark face his own was light and ruddy. 
 
 " I am not sure that I am coming," said Zillah. 
 
 "Well, you'll do your best, at all events," said Mr. 
 George. 
 
 " I've never said so," was the retort. 
 
 " What makes you so cross, Miss Zillah ? " 
 
 " I'm not cross," said the perverse girl, turning upon 
 him a beaming smile, and altering her tone. " Yes, I'll 
 come, if I possibly can. Good-morning," and she held out 
 her hand. 
 
 They had come to where their ways parted. Other 
 
 4
 
 50 DEAN-HURST 
 
 "Good-mornings" were said, the Farrars turned to the 
 right up the hill, arid the Deans continued their course 
 down the valley, Mrs. Farrar calling out, the last thing, 
 " We will let you know the day," and Mrs. Dean rumin- 
 ating in her distracted mind how she could prevent her 
 son and daughter going to Edge House. 
 
 At five o'clock of the afternoon on the same Sunday 
 there was a knock at the door of Higher Dean Cottage ; 
 and on Rebecca's opening it there were seen to be stand- 
 ing there, an elderly gentleman and a young lady of two- 
 or three-and-twenty they were the rich Mr. Whaite 
 and his daughter Agatha. 
 
 When Zillah heard by their voices who had come, she 
 rushed out of the sitting-room and greeted the latter 
 effusively. Mrs. Dean followed, and did likewise, while 
 Bryan, of course, came forward and shook hands with 
 both, but without any demonstration of particular glad- 
 ness. 
 
 " It is such a beautiful evening," said Agatha Whaite, 
 "that I persuaded my father to walk up here, Zillah; 
 and, if you will have us, we will go with you to 
 chapel." 
 
 "Ay, she would come," said Mr. Whaite, speaking 
 with a strong provincial accent. "When Agatha sets 
 her mind on a thing, that thing she'll have or do, yo' 
 may depend." 
 
 Mr. Whaite did not speak as if this trait were at all 
 objectionable. He laughed as he spoke, and Agatha 
 laughed too, and blushed a little. Mrs. Dean was watch- 
 ing her, and saw the blush and the quick glance at Bryan, 
 wholly lost upon him, the least conceited of men, and 
 hoped in her inmost heart that this was true. 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Agatha, as they entered the sitting-room,
 
 DEAN HEAD CHAPEL AND DEAN-HURST 51 
 
 " you have not finished tea ! I am ashamed ; pray go on 
 and do so, just as if we were not here. We had ours 
 very early." 
 
 " Oh, you must take another cup ; you have had a walk 
 since," said Mrs. Dean. 
 
 Zillah was blushing because there was no cake or 
 anything on the table, but plain bread and butter. And 
 Agatha noticed that too; but her eyes were riveted on 
 the silver tea-pot with the crest, and the cream-ewer and 
 the sugar-basin to match, and on the old blue and richly -gilt 
 china, and they were eyes of envy with which she looked. 
 
 Agatha "VVhaite, though appreciating to the full the 
 advantages of ample means, was a little disposed to 
 look down upon the father whose energy and business 
 ability had produced them. She did not like to think 
 of his humble origin, and she objected to his and her 
 poor relations. She had in her character a curious 
 mixture of the practical and the sentimental and one 
 strong vein of the latter ran in the direction of worship 
 of good birth. It was this which had drawn her to 
 cultivate the friendship of Zillah Dean, and this which 
 had first given rise to her penchant for Bryan, which 
 duller eyes than those of Mrs. Dean might easily have 
 noted. An idea regarding him had entered her brain, 
 and fostered the feeling in her heart ; it was a romantic 
 idea, and, in a sense, a monetary sense, a very generous 
 one. Her mother had been long dead. She was an only 
 child, and her father adored her. Her will had rarely 
 ever been crossed, and she had faith in her own good 
 fortune. All her discontent was reflected from the past, 
 with the present she was satisfied, of the future she was 
 hopeful. 
 
 Yes, that past was disquieting enough. Agatha tapped
 
 52 DEAN-HURST 
 
 her foot on the floor and frowned a little, as she gazed 
 at the silver and china, which had descended from several 
 generations of Deans, and reflected that her own grandfather 
 had trundled a wheelbarrow, and collected rags and bones 
 very likely at the back door of Dean-Hurst ! At that 
 moment she despised her wealth and the comforts it gave 
 her, and said to herself that she could have been quite 
 content with bread and butter, washed down with weak 
 tea out of a crested silver tea-pot ! It was "miserable stuff " 
 though, she could but acknowledge ; and she wished she 
 had, like her father, persisted in her refusal to have any. 
 But Mrs. Dean had insisted, and then had she not 
 placed her a chair by Bryan's ? Agatha felt that she had 
 a friend in court in Mrs. Dean ; it was quite evident that, 
 in her eyes, present wealth compensated for humble origin. 
 Was it otherwise with Bryan Dean, that he looked so 
 coldly upon her? Was it her wealth that was keeping 
 him back ? or could he not get over the " rags and bones," 
 she wondered 1 Ah, he would, he should, in time ! 
 
 Service began at six o'clock at Dean Head, so there 
 was not very much time to linger over tea ; and soon the 
 whole party, with Rebecca also, were on their way to 
 chapel Mr. Whaite walking with Mrs. Dean, and Bryan 
 with Zillah and her friend. But Zillah soon dropped 
 behind and joined Rebecca, and Bryan only was left to 
 walk with Agatha Whaite.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 IN THE CHAPEL-KEEPER'S COTTAGE 
 
 " The calm brow through the parted hair, 
 The gentle lips which know no guile, 
 Softening the blue eyes' thoughtful care 
 
 With the bland beauty of their smile." WMUicr. 
 
 HOUGH Agatha Whaite would never have 
 been asked to sit for her portrait, that she 
 might pose as one of the " beauties " of her 
 day, there was not much to complain of in 
 the matter of her looks. She had a good 
 figure, a little above the middle height, regular features, and 
 light hair with a slightly red tinge. But Bryan, glancing at 
 her in chapel that night, thought he had nevernoticedbefore 
 how heavy her features were, nor how lacking in expression 
 her light brown eyes and whole face. But then he had 
 just been looking across the aisle into the Manse pew at 
 Joyce Warwick, and " comparisons are odorous," as the 
 renowned Mrs. Partington once remarked. He repressed 
 something very much like a sigh as he turned away his 
 head, crossed his legs, glanced past Mr. Whaite's rugged 
 face, and looked up at the minister. 
 
 His mother was watching him and reading him like a 
 
 53
 
 54 DEAN-HURST 
 
 book ; and she cast a swift look upon Joyce, which, had 
 such a thing been possible, would have annihilated her 
 upon the spot. 
 
 But of this, or of the fact that anybody in the world 
 bore her the slightest ill-will, Joyce Warwick was 
 happily unconscious. It is not in human nature, in the 
 woman nature, at anyrate, and especially was it not in 
 Joyce Warwick's nature, to be unmoved by general 
 admiration and approval. In her case, however, it was 
 not, as is often found, the woman's vanity which was 
 touched, it was her heart ; and the kind things people 
 were saying to her and of her made her very happy. 
 Then she was very fond of her father ; and as she sat, 
 with upturned face listening to his beloved voice, a 
 smile of content stole in her face, content and thankful- 
 ness that once more she was at home to hear it again. 
 Her mind reverted to the long list of unsatisfactory, 
 continental Sundays she had spent, and the vivid 
 contrast presented itself between the noise and bustle of 
 the Brussels streets and the peaceful Stonyshire valley, 
 where she now found herself. Her eyes were bright with 
 emotion, her mouth was slightly open, her face was all 
 alive with thought, when, drawn by some magnetism, 
 Bryan's head turned once again towards the minister's 
 pew. At the same time Joyce happened to make the 
 least possible movement, and their eyes met not only 
 met, but were held for a moment ; it was as if soul met 
 soul in that look, an electric current of sympathy passing 
 from one to the other. 
 
 The crash of a hymn-book on the Deans' pew floor 
 broke the spell ; and in some confusion Joyce dropped her 
 eyelids, while Bryan's increased colour might be accounted 
 for by his stooping to pick up the book.
 
 IN THE CHAPEL-KEEPER'S COTTAGE 55 
 
 Agatha Whaite seemed to see nothing did, in fact, see 
 nothing. Her self-complacency and faith in her good 
 fortune opened the door to hope and shut it on suspicion. 
 She had always, since coming to Beck Dean, been given 
 to understand, both by Zillah and all her other friends 
 who knew him, that though no woman-hater, Bryan Dean 
 had, as yet, shown himself proof against all the attractions 
 of the sex, and so she had, as she supposed, "a clear 
 field." And given this, she had little doubt that 
 eventually, herself and what she could bring, would 
 effect that which others had failed to do. Zillah saw 
 nothing either, except that her mother had, on some 
 account, purposely thrown down the hymn-book. 
 
 The sermon came to an end very shortly after this, 
 the lights were turned up so that the people could 
 see to find the hymn, it was sung, heartily, as only 
 Stonyshire folks can sing, or do sing, Mr. Warwick 
 pronounced the benediction, and the congregation streamed 
 out. It seemed almost dark in the chapel-yard on first 
 coming out, though the twilight had not quite gone, and 
 the moon was rising. The change was a little bewildering, 
 especially to a stranger ; and Agatha Whaite, having lost 
 sight, first of her father and then of Mrs. Dean and 
 Zillah, naturally clung to the only one of her company 
 that she could see. 
 
 " I believe I shall have to take your arm, Mr. Bryan," 
 she said, the moment she espied him. " I am stumbling 
 every step." And Agatha suited the action to the word ; 
 indeed, Bryan could, of course, do no other than hold out 
 his arm. 
 
 Before they reached the gate they overtook the others, 
 and it did not seem so dark, but Agatha still seemed 
 liable to stumble, and so continued her hold of Bryan's
 
 56 DEAN-HURST 
 
 arm. The young man longed inexpressibly to have speech 
 with Joyce, and to touch her hand ; it was hard that to- 
 night, too, as at noon, he should be denied this, harder 
 still because of that look which had passed between them. 
 But what did it all mean ? What was happening to him 1 
 Was this what men called " falling in love " 1 He had 
 been rallied sometimes by young men of his acquaintance, 
 and told that his turn would come ; but he had not 
 believed them. Besides, as he had often told himself, he 
 had other things to think of than matrimony, at anyrate 
 for many years to come. Perhaps if, and when, the one 
 ambition of his life were really accomplished, he might 
 begin to cherish the thought. No doubt he would; 
 indeed, as a matter of course, he must marry then. But 
 he had thought of it as a very deliberate action, a matter 
 of selecting and choosing always, of course, with a 
 possibility of refusal on the lady's side, for Bryan was no 
 coxcomb. 
 
 As these questions and thoughts flashed and quivered 
 in Bryan's breast, he went blindly and silently on, with 
 Agatha hanging on his arm, he taking not the slightest 
 notice of her, and not looking where he stepped or where 
 he obliged her to step. There were many loose stones 
 lying on the steep road, and it was getting almost too 
 dark to see them. 
 
 Agatha nearly coming to grief on one of these, an 
 uncommonly large one, Bryan suddenly woke up with the 
 start he got, and instinctively stretched out his other hand 
 to save her ; and when she had recovered her balance, he 
 became suddenly conscious that he was holding her hand, 
 and that she was blushing furiously. It trembled a little 
 in his grasp, too, but then that might be the result of the 
 stumble she had had. Bryan felt dreadfully uncomfort-
 
 IN THE CHAPEL-KEEPER'S COTTAGE 57 
 
 able, for all at once there rushed into his mind, with 
 vivid force, the words that his mother had spoken about 
 Agatha, and which he had refused to believe. 
 
 "I hope you are not hurt," he said, as he gently 
 let her hand go and essayed to walk on. " I ought 
 to have been looking better where we were going," 
 he added apologetically, and with an embarrassed little 
 laugh. 
 
 " Oh, I am not hurt, I assure you, Mr. Bryan ; it is 
 nothing, really," said Agatha; "only I certainly should 
 have fallen if I had not had hold of your arm." And she 
 settled her hand more confidingly there, and looked up 
 into his face gratefully, and, indeed, with something more 
 than gratitude. Their relative positions were such that 
 Agatha felt no scruple in making decided advances. She 
 had thousands where he had hundreds; he was fancy- 
 free, and she loved him. She could be the means 
 whereby he could realise the dream of his youth, the 
 ambition of his manhood, for of these things she had 
 learned from Zillah. But it was more than likely that 
 her very wealth, which she wished to place at his feet as a 
 stepping-stone to this, was proving only a stumblingblock. 
 She must let him see that it need not be so. As a rule, a 
 woman must hide her feelings until she is asked to reveal 
 them ; but there are exceptions to all rules. Thus, 
 hardly in so many words, but substantially thus, argued 
 Agatha Whaite with herself. 
 
 Bryan Dean shook himself together after that little 
 episode, and made those troublesome questions we have 
 spoken of stand in abeyance. He carefully selected the 
 best side of the lane to walk upon, and he tried, with 
 some success, to enter into rational conversation. But he 
 was very glad indeed when the door of Upper Dean
 
 58 DEAN-HURST 
 
 Cottage was reached, and he found Mr. Whaite waiting 
 for his daughter, and ready to say " Good-night." 
 
 Mrs. Dean had been very pressing that the two should 
 call again, but Mr. Whaite wanted his supper, having 
 had so early a tea, and so he had turned a deaf ear to the 
 invitation. She had, indeed, mentioned their staying to 
 supper, but Mr. Whaite, judging perhaps by what he had 
 seen on the tea-table, felt an inward conviction that no 
 supper Mrs. Dean was likely to provide would appease 
 his present hunger. He was, therefore, conveniently 
 blind this time to his daughter's appealing looks, when 
 the invitation was repeated on her arrival with Bryan, 
 and there was nothing for it but to shake hands and say 
 " Good-night." The young man was unwillingly conscious, 
 however, that Agatha's hand lingered in his longer than 
 was necessary when she said it. The three Deans turned 
 indoors silently. Bryan went up to his own room for a 
 little while, to adjust his thoughts, if possible. Zilluh 
 went into hers, and took off her things with a sense of 
 dissatisfaction. How was it, she wondered, that George 
 Farrar had not been at chapel? And Mrs. Dean sat 
 down in the kitchen, whither she had gone to stir the 
 fire, for Kebecca would not be in for an hour yet, sorry 
 on some accounts that the Whaites had not come in 
 again, but glad on others ; for had they stayed to supper, 
 the cold joint must have been brought out, and they 
 must have gone dinnerless on the morrow, except for 
 some bread and cheese. As it was, they could eat the 
 bread and cheese to-night. But about Agatha Whaite ? 
 Surely Bryan could be no longer blind? And surely 
 seeing, he would never be such a fool and madman as 
 to fling away his good fortune ? He must not he 
 should not.
 
 IN THE CHAPEL-KEEPER'S COTTAGE 59 
 
 Meantime, Joyce, after speech with Fanny Farrar and 
 one or two others in the chapel-yard, had gone indoors. 
 But she was the victim of a strange restlessness, and a 
 vague consciousness of disappointment mingled itself 
 with the sweet trouble which Bryan Dean's look had 
 wrought within her. She did not understand herself, 
 the feeling was too vague to be put into words ; but thus 
 rendered, it would have been something like this that, 
 "after looking at her as he had done, Bryan should go 
 away without a word ! " 
 
 After Maud, having taken off her things, had left the 
 room which the two girls shared, Joyce stole downstairs 
 again and into the garden. She stood some time by the 
 Avail under the shade of a sycamore, and looked down the 
 valley. It lay in deep shade, and a slight autumnal mist 
 which pervaded it was silvered here and there by the 
 moonbeams. It was solemnly still everybody had gone 
 away. Absalom had locked up the chapel, and weird 
 shadows lingered about the tombstones. It was rather cold 
 too, and Joyce shivered a little ; but still she lingered. 
 She felt sad ; and was puzzled with herself for feeling so. 
 This was the first check to her joyousness since her return. 
 
 The darkness was increasing, but the moon was 
 becoming brighter every moment. A cloud had obscured 
 it for a few seconds, and when it emerged, it looked 
 quite brilliant. Far down below a glittering spot in the 
 valley showed where the beck, not otherwise seen in the 
 gloom, made a mirror for the moon, and, close by, the 
 stone roof of a mill shone white in the light of it. 
 Suddenly it occurred to Joyce that this must, from its 
 position, be Higher Dean Mill. But why should the 
 thought make her heart beat faster 1 With a troubled 
 surprise at herself, she turned away.
 
 60 DEAN-HURST 
 
 But Joyce did not yet care to go back into the house, 
 and she therefore unlatched the garden-gate giving access 
 to the lane, and, without aim or purpose, slowly skirted 
 the wall of the chapel-yard and the school-building. 
 Doing so, she by and by came to the corner of the chapel- 
 keeper's house, and the desirability of getting rid of her 
 own thoughts doubtless gave birth to her sudden impulse 
 to enter it. She knocked gently, and then lifted the 
 latch and held the door slightly ajar. 
 
 " May I come in?" she cried. 
 
 " Ay, sure, come in an' welcome," was the reply in 
 Absalom's voice, kindly but rough; and then Joyce 
 heard him shout to his wife, before he could see her 
 
 " It's Miss Joyce, Marinda, an' she wants to know if 
 she may come in." And Absalom gave a little laugh at 
 the very idea of there being any doubt of her admission. 
 
 " Come in ? I should think so, bless her heart," cried 
 the old woman. " Rebecca, move thy chair a bit an' 
 make room for her next to me." 
 
 Joyce came forward, closing the door behind her, and 
 found that, besides Absalom and his wife, there was 
 seated on the hearth, his wife's sister, Rebecca Rigg, the 
 Deans' old servant. She would have drawn back then, 
 but Mr. Rodley would not hear of it. 
 
 " Sho reckons to want to go away ageean, because yo'r 
 Rebecca's here," he shouted down the ear-trumpet to his 
 wife. He made a point, when he was present, of always 
 letting her know what was going on ; and it was rather 
 embarrassing sometimes to people to hear their own 
 words repeated. 
 
 " Nothin' o' t' sort nothin' o' t' sort ; sit yo' down ! " 
 cried Mrs. Rodley, in a thin, piping voice. She was a 
 small, neat-looking old woman she was much older than
 
 IN THE CHAPEL-KEEPER'S COTTAGE 61 
 
 Rebecca and wore a white linen full-bordered cap and 
 a plaid shoulder-shawl. 
 
 Rebecca, too, uttered a mild protest against Joyce's 
 
 withdrawal. So she seated herself on the chair indicated 
 a low one, with a patchwork cover, and iron rockers 
 which crunched very much as they moved on the sanded 
 floor. Absalom sat in the chimney-corner, smoking a 
 long clay pipe after the labours of the day ; and he cut a
 
 62 DEAN-HURST 
 
 comical figure as he flourished this in the air from time 
 to time, when he bent to speak down the ear-trumpet. 
 His wife sat close to his elbow, and he could do this 
 quite conveniently. Joyce sat next, and nearly opposite 
 the fire, which danced merrily in a grate that was as 
 black and bright as blacklead and " elbow-grease " could 
 make it. On the other side of the hearth, opposite 
 Absalom, sat Rebecca, with a grim smile on her face. She 
 was thinking, as she looked at Joyce, of Mr. Bryan's three 
 steps at a time going upstairs, and of her mistress' fears. 
 But perhaps, after all, she and herself had taken fright 
 too soon; for she had seen something to-night which 
 pointed in another direction, and the right one Mr. 
 Bryan and Miss Whaite, arm-in-arm. 
 
 The cottage was cosy, and bright, and clean, as only 
 Stonyshire cottages are. A hearthrug of dark cut-cloth, 
 relieved by a heart-shaped pattern in red, lay before the 
 fender, which shone like silver. On the mantelpiece 
 stood half a dozen brightly -polished brass candlesticks 
 of graduated size, looking like golden sentinels of the 
 china flower and fruit sellers standing between them. 
 And a pair of highly-coloured little tin trays completed 
 the ornamentation of the mantelshelf, which was very 
 high, the tops of the tallest pair of candlesticks reaching 
 nearly to the ceiling. There was a " lang-settle " behind 
 the door, an oaken chest of drawers, in whose brass 
 handles flickered cheerily the reflection of the blazing 
 coals in the grate, and a Dutch clock in the corner, 
 which had from childhood been Joyce's delight, on 
 account of the figures at the top of it an old man who 
 came out of a hole there when the weather was going to 
 be wet, and an old woman who at those times kept 
 carefully inside, but came out and stood there bravely
 
 IN THE CHAPEL-KEEPERS COTTAGE 63 
 
 enough when the day promised to be fine. Many had 
 been the times, when some little pleasure was in store 
 which was dependent on the weather, that Joyce had run 
 in to the chapel-keeper's cottage to see if "the old 
 woman" were " out of her little house." She turned her 
 eyes upon the clock now, and smiled at the remembrance. 
 
 " Eh, Miss Joyce, yo'r lookin' at t'owd clock, I see," 
 said Mrs. Rodley ; " t'owd woman's been in an' out a lot 
 o' times, bout annybody to tak' anny notice on her, while 
 yo've been i' fureign parts." 
 
 Joyce laughed at this. " I always used to think about 
 her in Brussels when we were going anywhere," she said. 
 
 Absalom shouted this information down the ear- 
 trumpet, as that instrument happened to be in the ear 
 next to him. But Mrs. Eodley changed it, and she and 
 Joyce managed to hold a little conversation about the 
 places she had visited and the things she had seen. 
 Amongst other sights, she mentioned the cathedral in 
 Brussels, and described its wonderful pulpit. 
 
 " My word," said Absalom, " but I should like to see 
 that theer pilpit ! But it 'ould scare annybody like, to 
 come on it of a sudden, I should think. Fancy annybody 
 comin' into Dean Head Chapel here, an' seein' a skeleton 
 peepin' at 'em round t' corner o' t' pilpit ! " 
 
 There was a general laugh at this, and, of course, Mrs. 
 Eodley had to have it explained, Absalom shouting out 
 also something about "Adam and Eve skulkin' away 
 round t' other corner," and adding 
 
 " I tell thee what it is, Marinda, thee an' me'll ha'e to 
 go to ftireign parts yet," and Absalom shook with 
 laughter at his own joke. 
 
 " I'd liefer see t' little dugs an' cows drawin' things, 
 nor that pilpit, if I went," said Mrs. Rodley.
 
 64 DEAN-HURST 
 
 11 Well," said Absalom, after a reflective puff or two, 
 " I think we're naither on us likely to see manny pilpits 
 beside Dean Head ; an' if tha' could but hear t' sarmons 
 as we getten fro' 'em, tha wouldn't want, naither. Eh, 
 Miss Joyce," he went on, "it gets betther an' betther. 
 There's nobody fit to howld a candle to him i' these parts. 
 We ought to be a peculiar people, zealous o' good works 
 up here, for we're towld our duty faithful we that are 
 an' a good example set us beside, though there is those 'at 
 says as t' minister keeps hisself to hisself raither to' mich." 
 
 " Those are the people who forget that good sermons 
 need time and study to prepare them," said Joyce with 
 spirit. 
 
 "That's exactly what I tells 'em when they talks i' 
 that way to me," said Absalom. " ' Why,' I says to one 
 on 'em one day 'at were talkin' i' that road, ' it's just 
 meterly t' same,' I says, ' as if yo' enj'yed a good dinner, 
 an' praised it up, an' then begun a grum'lin' at yo'r wife 
 as had cooked it, for not havin' gone out a walkin' 
 wi' yo'.' " 
 
 There was a little pause when Absalom had ended this 
 speech ; but only for a moment, and then he said, still 
 with his mind on Dean Head 
 
 " Mester Whaite was at chapel to-night, I noticed, an' 
 his daughter too. They're not sich out-an'-out Church 
 folk, it seems ; I've seen her here afore." 
 
 " Ay," said Rebecca; adding, with peculiar significance, 
 " an' I dar'say yo'll see her here many a time again." 
 
 " Why, what does ta mean by that?" asked Absalom, 
 taking his pipe out of his mouth in interested surprise. 
 
 " Well, it's appen to' soon to talk about it, for nothin's 
 settled yet ; but yo'll likely be hearin' somethin' some 
 day about her an' t' young masther."
 
 IN THE CHAPEL-KEEPER'S COTTAGE 65 
 
 " Mr. Bryan? My word!" cried Absalom; "but ho 
 knows what he's doin'. Why, I reckon her feyther's fair 
 rowlin' i' money." 
 
 Kebecca had kept the corner of her nearer eye fixed on 
 Joyce's face, and she was sure that a flush rose there, 
 as she heard these things, other than that caused by 
 the fire. 
 
 " I should think so," said Eebecca ; " they say he 
 could buy up all t' other manufacturers i' Beck Dean an' 
 Beck Foot, easy." 
 
 " My word ! " said Absalom again, quite excitedly ; 
 "but it'll be a rare thing for Mester Bryan, if he can 
 manage it. Why, it'll bring t' Deans up as high as ever 
 they were i' owld times. 'Appen," he added, "tak' 'em 
 back to Dean-Hurst." 
 
 " That's just what they want," said Kebecca grimly ; 
 " what t' mistress 'ould nearly sell her soul for." 
 
 "Does ta hear what yo'r Kebecca says?" shouted 
 Absalom into the ear-trumpet; and he retailed, almost 
 word for word, what Kebecca had said, and remarked 
 what a grand thing it would be should the Deans be 
 restored to Dean- Hurst. 
 
 " There'll be no need to be sich nippiii' an' screwin' as 
 there is, if that happens," was Mrs. Rodley's quiet 
 comment. " And that reminds me," she went on, " that 
 it's time to look after a bit o' supper." 
 
 " I don't know whether I'd better stop to-night, 
 Marinda," shouted Rebecca. "Perhaps those folks '11 be 
 stoppin' at Higher Dean, an' I shall be wanted." 
 
 " Well, please thyself," said Mrs. Rodley ; " but if I 
 were thee I'd have a good square meal, while I'd t' 
 chance." 
 
 Joyce rose and. said she must go. It was not the first 
 
 5
 
 66 DEAN-HURST 
 
 time that she had heard uncomplimentary things said of 
 Mrs. Dean's housekeeping; indeed, in times past, she 
 had had experience of its sparseness; but somehow 
 to-night this talk grated upon her. And not this alone, 
 either. 
 
 As, after resisting pressing invitations to " stop a bit 
 longer," she bade the inmates " Good-night," and closed 
 the door of Absalom Eodley's cottage behind her, Joyce 
 paused in the flag-paved yard, into which also the back- 
 door of the Manse opened ; she had a giddy sensation, 
 like one who has received a physical blow. Her heart 
 had sunk within her bosom, heavy as lead. Relieved for 
 a time of her unaccountable depression by the quaint talk 
 of Absalom Rodley and his wife, it had returned with 
 tenfold force during the talk of the last few minutes. 
 But why ? why ? What was it to her ? Or, if anything, 
 why not gladness ? "Why could she not feel, as Absalom 
 evidently felt, glad at the prospect of Bryan's enrich- 
 ment? And he had been so kind to her, too so very 
 kind since the moment that she had come home. His 
 had been the first face she had seen, and how good it had 
 been to see it. And yesterday what a happy, happy 
 time they had had together, she and Zillah and Mr. 
 Bryan-! Perhaps she was getting spoiled by all the fuss 
 which had been made of her the last few days, and could 
 not bear to hear of any one else being thought much of. 
 She could not before, certainly, have believed it possible ; 
 she had imagined herself free from the meanness of envy ; 
 but then, who can truly know herself ? 
 
 Joyce opened the door, stole upstairs, and mechanically 
 took off her bonnet and mantle. This done, she dropped 
 disconsolately into the wide window-seat, with her hands 
 clasped on her lap, and gazed down into the moonlit
 
 IN THE CHAPEL-KEEPER'S COTTAGE 67 
 
 valley. But it was not that she really saw. What she 
 did see was Bryan Dean's face, his eyes looking into hers. 
 And the sweet trouble stirred in her heart again with 
 renewed force. Then a half-revelation of the truth about 
 herself came to her, and, covering her face with her 
 hands, she murmured 
 
 " Oh, why, why, if this they say be true, why did you 
 look at me as you did, Bryan Dean 1 "
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 UNDERCRAGG 
 
 "Is it not gold 
 
 That makes the chastest yield to lust ? the wisest to 
 Folly ? the faithfullest to deceit ? and 
 The most holy in heart, to be most hollow of heart 1" Lilly 
 
 UST a week had passed since the arrival home 
 of Joyce Warwick, and Bryan Dean was 
 again at Beck Foot Station, having arrived 
 there, though by an earlier train than on 
 the previous Tuesday, from Baleborough, 
 \vhere it had been market-day. It was inevitable, in 
 his state of mind, that he should there live over again 
 all the little incidents of his meeting with Joyce he 
 saw her as a stranger, he read the eager smile of recog- 
 nition on her sweet face, he felt the touch of her hands 
 in his. 
 
 Instead of hurrying out as usual, he rather lingered on 
 the platform, absorbed in his recollections. And when 
 he did, very deliberately, wend his way outside, and take 
 his seat in the gig, which was waiting for him, he was 
 still in a kind of reverie. He took the reins from Sam 
 mechanically, and turned the horse's head in the right 
 
 08
 
 UNDERCRAGG 69 
 
 direction, more from habit than any thought about it. 
 For now, Joyce was by his side in the gig, and he was 
 hearing again her expressions of delight. 
 
 But Bryan was soon brought down to reality, and the 
 present more prosaic state of things, by divers jerks 
 on the part of Sam, whose right elbow eventually 
 came into rather unpleasant contact with Bryan's left 
 rib. 
 
 " What are you about, Sam 1 " cried his master, roused 
 at last. 
 
 " I've got a note somewheres," said Sam, " 'at t' Missis 
 has give me for yo', an' oh, here it is," he ended, bringing 
 the note out of his pocket with another jerk. 
 
 " Something that wouldn't wait until I got home, eh ? " 
 said Bryan, half to himself, as he took the note. Then 
 to Sam 
 
 " Why didn't you give it me at the station \ I daresay 
 it is some errand that my mother wants doing in Beck 
 Foot." 
 
 " I dun know, I'm sure," said Sam stolidly. 
 
 Bryan tore open the envelope, and saw, to his surprise, 
 that there were two little notes inside one in his mother's 
 handwriting and the other in that of Agatha Whaite, with 
 which he was familiar from her frequent invitations to 
 Zillah indeed, the one he held, for he took it out first, 
 was addressed to his sister, and ran thus : 
 
 UNDERCRAGG, Tuesday. 
 
 MY DEAR ZILLAH, I am quite expecting you to-day, 
 as we arranged on Sunday ; but it has occurred to me 
 that it is a pity for your brother to go home from Beck 
 Foot, and then have all the way back to Undercragg to 
 come to fetch you home, so I am writing to ask you to 
 let your groom take a message or a note when he meets
 
 70 DEAN-HURST 
 
 him at the station, telling him to come and have tea here. 
 Papa, as well as myself, will be very glad to see him. 
 Your loving friend, 
 
 AGATHA WHAITE. 
 
 P.S. We will wait tea until the twenty-past-six train 
 is in, if he does not come by the earlier one. You and I 
 can have an early cup, to put us on. 
 
 Bryan felt an uncomfortable flush rise to his face as he 
 read this note. Irresistibly, his mind reverted to Sunday 
 night, and also to what his mother had said to him re- 
 garding Miss Whaite. Of itself it would have said 
 nothing it would merely have been an evidence of kind 
 thoughtful ness on Agatha's part but following other 
 indications, it was an additional feather showing which 
 way the wind was blowing. He put Agatha's note back in 
 the envelope, and took out his mother's Her's ran thus : 
 
 DEAR BRYAN, A groom from Undercragg brought the 
 enclosed note this morning. You will, of course, accept 
 this kind invitation. And, dear Bryan, remember what I 
 said to you the other day, and what you yourself must 
 have seen on Sunday night ; and for your own sake, for 
 my sake, for all our sakes, make the best of your oppor- 
 tunity. I can never forgive you if you do not, in the 
 way now open to you, end all our difficulties, and achieve 
 the ambition of our lives. It must be Providence which 
 has opened it out, and you are not one to fight against 
 Providence. 
 
 I shall not expect you home to tea. I am sending 
 Kebecca out, and shall probably go out myself. 
 
 Your affectionate Mother. 
 
 Bryan put back this note also, and deposited the 
 envelope in a pocket, tightened his hold of the reins, and 
 looked gloomily along Boxer's back. He had a feeling as 
 of being entangled in a net.
 
 UNDERCRAGG 71 
 
 The valley road was very steep just in this part, and 
 the horse was walking. On the top of the hill, just 
 appearing in sight on the left hand, stood Dean-Hurst. 
 Bryan, lifting his head, caught sight of it, as he had done 
 scores of times before and looked at it with longing 
 eyes. As Boxer mounted the hill, and he drew 
 nearer to it, the old mansion stood picturesquely out 
 against a low band of red which still lingered in the 
 western sky. It was a homestead greatly to be desired 
 on its own account ; but when, in addition to this, it was 
 surmounted by the halo of family tradition, it was 
 rendered doubly desirable. He had often gazed upon its 
 high pointed gables and long mullioned windows in a 
 hopeless way but oftener, especially of late years, with 
 strong determination. At whatever cost, Dean-Hurst 
 should be won back. It might take many years to 
 accomplish, it probably would take the best part of his 
 life, but it would be worth any sacrifice he could make, 
 could he enter into possession of the old abode of his 
 ancestors, and refound, as it were, the family of the 
 Deans. 
 
 But money was not to be made so fast in reality as in 
 imagination and anticipation, and however saving and 
 economical a man or a family may be, the cost of living 
 is not small. Like the view in a telescope reversed, the 
 time when his ambition was likely to be realized, if ever, 
 stretched far away now in the dim distance. There had 
 been a spell of bad trade in his branch of manufacture, 
 and a consequent loss of several hundreds, only just 
 lately, and he had been feeling correspondingly depressed. 
 But now, here, close to his hand as it were, almost 
 begging to be taken up, were the means by which he 
 might accomplish the foremost wish of his life. A
 
 72 . DEAN-HURST 
 
 natural way, an easy way, an honourable way lay open to 
 him. He had as little conceit as a man well can have, 
 but he could no longer doubt that Agatha Whaite, with 
 her large fortune, were to be had for the asking. Why 
 could he not feel glad? He respected and liked his 
 sister's friend well enough, and such feelings were often- 
 times fanned into the flame of love. He had a dim 
 conviction that had this happened a month ago a fort- 
 night nay, little more than a week ago, he should have 
 so tried to fan his feelings, and probably with success. 
 What then now made him hesitate what held him back 1 
 He knew, alas ! only too well. It was a pair of little 
 outstretched hands a pair of clear, frank, blue eyes 
 it was the fair face and form of Joyce Warwick. For 
 an instant, as this conviction seized fast hold of him, he 
 felt almost angry Avith the girl. Why had she thus come 
 between him and his ambition 1 
 
 Then Bryan Dean gave himself a mental shake, as it 
 were he was just passing Dean-Hurst, and he caught 
 a glimpse of the terraced garden, the porch, and the rose 
 window and he asked himself why he was such a fool. 
 Why need he let Joyce Warwick interfere with his 
 plans? It would be ridiculous to allow it. He had 
 only known her a week he did not count his knowledge 
 of her as a child he had only seen her three times, 
 and was the thought of her to block up his path, to 
 blight his prospects, to frustrate the fruition of his life's 
 ambition? It should not he would be master of him- 
 self he would go to Undercragg, and he would behave 
 as he would have done a month ago, when Joyce Warwick 
 was far away, and no more to him than one of his own 
 mill-hands. 
 
 A few more minutes' drive, and the gig with its
 
 UNDERCRAGG 73 
 
 occupants arrived at a point where a steep road to the 
 right led down to a bridge over the beck. Below the 
 bridge, on both sides the stream, were the buildings of a 
 large manufactory a lofty, many-storeyed mill, extensive 
 weaving sheds, and important - looking offices. These 
 were the Lower Dean Mills, belonging to Mr. Whaite. 
 On the opposite side of the valley, which was very deep 
 here, rose a wooded height, and a little to the left of the 
 mills, near the top of this wood, there rose sheer from it 
 a lofty bare crag. In the midst of the trees, some 
 distance beneath this, stood Mr. Whaite's house, well 
 named, from its position, " Undercragg." It was a small 
 house originally, that had been erected for a manager, 
 but had been enlarged twice once recently, when Mr. 
 ^Vhaite had come to it and was of no particular style. 
 Its chief attraction lay in its romantic situation. This, 
 and its convenient position with regard to his mills 
 here, had decided Mr. Whaite upon occupying it in 
 preference to his former residence, which lay rather low 
 in an adjoining valley, where also he had mills. Com- 
 pelled to be so arranged, from the nature of the ground, 
 the pleasure-gardens formed a series of terraces; and it 
 had been at great expense that a large tennis-lawn had 
 been laid out, the face of the wood having to be cut 
 away for the purpose at one side of the house. The 
 lawn thus presented the appearance of the bottom of a 
 quarry, or a cave, with the top off, and carpeted with 
 mossy grass its sides, wherever soil enough could be 
 placed on jutting rock or root of tree, being planted 
 with shrubs, small flowering trees, and ferns. At the 
 foot of its rocky walls were gnarled-wood seats and two 
 or three rustic summer-houses. This lawn was a charm- 
 ing spot, and greatly admired by all visitors to Under-'
 
 74 DEAN-HURST 
 
 cragg. It opened to the south -west, near a natural 
 platform of rock, and, now that the foliage was thinning 
 a little, it was possible from, the valley road to see this 
 opening. As Bryan, a little irresolute still, in spite of 
 the conclusions he had arrived at, drew rein at the 
 junction of the roads, he looked up across the valley to 
 Undercragg, and could distinctly see two figures standing 
 on the jutting rock in front of the lawn doubtless they 
 were those of Zillah and Agatha, and probably they 
 were looking out for him. They would be able to see, 
 from that standpoint, a considerable length of the 
 valley road, and no doubt they could see him now. 
 It would be shabby not to go. To-day, at any rate, 
 he must yield to Agatha Whaite's influence, whatever 
 he might do in the future. And so deciding, Bryan 
 turned his horse down the steep road towards the 
 bridge. 
 
 " I'm not going straight home, Sam," he said. " I'm 
 going to join Miss Zillah up at Undercragg. You can 
 tell your mistress so when you get back." 
 
 " Missis said as how she didn't think as yo'd be comin' 
 'ome," said Sam with a grin. Sam was not nearly so 
 stupid as he looked. Besides, though he was only 
 eighteen, he had a sweetheart of his own, and he thought 
 he had a good idea of what was going on. 
 
 Bryan would like to have pulled Sam's ears for him ; 
 but he did not even look his way, Boxer requiring all 
 his attention as he trod the steep slope, making the 
 gig swing tremendously, and so only he, poor unconscious 
 animal, received the vexed expression which shot from 
 the master's eyes. 
 
 The lodge and gate giving entrance to Mr. Whaite's 
 grounds were only a short distance to the left, after
 
 UNDERCRAGG 75 
 
 crossing the bridge, but the drive therefrom up to the 
 house was somewhat circuitous, as was compulsory. 
 
 " There, you can turn back here, Sam," said Bryan, 
 having reached a point from which there was a steep 
 narrow walk up to the lawn ; " I will not drive up to 
 the front," and as he spoke, he stopped and sprang from 
 the gig. He stood and watched Sam turn and go down 
 the winding drive, where he soon disappeared from view ; 
 then he took the winding path upwards. 
 
 " Oh, how good how very good of you to come ! " 
 cried Agatha Whaite, as she came forward to greet him, 
 on his emerging into sight from the trees. She was 
 wearing a handsome dress, pale green in colour, which 
 suited her complexion well. She was thoroughly pleased ; 
 and her heavy features had an unusual look of animation, 
 and even her eyes shone with the gratification she felt 
 at Bryan's acceptance of her invitation altogether, that 
 young man thought he had never seen her look so nice 
 as she did that evening. A little flush rose to her face as 
 they shook hands, and Bryan also felt slightly embarrassed. 
 
 "It was kind of you to ask me," he said; "and I 
 am glad, as you did so, that I happened to come from 
 Baleborough by the earlier train. It would have been 
 dreadful to have kept you waiting for tea until nearly 
 seven o'clock." 
 
 " Wouldn't it, Zillah ? " he said to his sister, who now 
 came up. 
 
 " We should have managed to exist, I daresay," said 
 Zillah saucily, " seeing that we have had a cosy ' four- 
 o'clock ' in one of the summer-houses. All the same, it's 
 well you've come early, because you can just see to have 
 a game of tennis. You can take my place can't he, 
 Agatha? and I'll watch."
 
 76 DEAN-HURST 
 
 " Would you like it 1 Aren't you too tried 1 Father 
 will not be up from the mill for half an hour yet, if you 
 care for a game, Mr. Bryan. It will be too dark after 
 tea." 
 
 "But I have no tennis-shoes," said Bryan; "and it 
 would be a shame to play on your lovely lawn, without." 
 
 " I think you'll have to invest in a pair," said Agatha 
 with a laugh. " In the meantime, we will look over the 
 enormity. As for a racket, Zillah will lend you hers, I 
 know." This racket of Zillah's had been a present from 
 herself. How much she wished that she dared give 
 Bryan one, also ! 
 
 It was plain to Bryan that Agatha wanted him to have 
 a game, and so he consented, with more apparent than 
 real alacrity. He had been in the midst of the dust and 
 bustle of the Baleborough Exchange for several hours, he 
 had since then had a railway journey of twenty miles, 
 and he had not partaken of "afternoon tea." 
 
 He need not have been afraid, however. Agatha 
 Whaite was one of those girls who think of everything. 
 In passing Zillah, to reach the lawn, she whispered some- 
 thing to her, and she and Bryan had not been playing 
 many minutes ere a white-aproned, white-capped servant 
 made her appearance, bearing a tray, on whose snowy 
 embroidered cover lay a small plate of sandwiches, a seed- 
 loaf, and all the requisites for tea. This she carried into 
 the nearest summer-house, and then, approaching Agatha, 
 said 
 
 " Miss Dean wished me to tell you, ma'am " (being the 
 mistress of the house, the servants always addressed 
 Agatha as "ma'am," not "miss"), "that she is not 
 coming out again. She feels a little chilly, and will stay 
 by the drawing-room fire until you come in."
 
 to come 
 
 77
 
 UNDERCRAGG 79 
 
 "Very well, Simpkin," said Agatha; "tell Miss Dean, 
 with my love, to make herself as cosy as possible," and 
 with her heart beating fast at the pleasurable thought 
 of being left alone with Bryan, she led the way to 
 the summer-house, and proceeded to pour out tea for 
 him. 
 
 It has been said I do not say it is true that the way 
 to an Englishman's heart is through his stomach. And 
 certainly, though he was no gourmand, tired Bryan 
 Dean's heart warmed to Agatha Whaite as it never had 
 before, as he sat in the summer-house, and she gracefully 
 plied him with hot, strong tea, sandwiches, and cake. 
 True, his heart did not beat one more to the minute, but 
 he felt that, at anyrate, he was bound to be grateful 
 he was grateful for her kindness. Agatha, on her side, 
 sat beaming and blushing, and looking almost pretty 
 her heart going at greatly accelerated speed. 
 
 The door of this particular summer-house faced the 
 opening in the quarry, if we may so call it, and a very 
 pretty view there was from it. Bryan, as he drank his 
 tea, looked out and remarked upon it. 
 
 " Yes," said Agatha, " it is pretty very. And there 
 is something we can see from here which must be very 
 interesting to you." 
 
 " What is that 1 " asked Bryan. But just as he spoke 
 he saw what Agatha must mean, for, across the valley, 
 and some distance down towards Beck Foot, he could 
 make out, through its surrounding trees, two gables, a 
 portion of the roof, and one chimney-stack of Dean- 
 Hurst. His face changed, and his heart did beat faster 
 then. 
 
 "Ah," said Agatha, "I see you have discovered it. 
 What an interesting old place it is, Mr. Bryan, and what
 
 8o DEAN-HURST 
 
 a trouble it must be to you to think of other people 
 possessing it." 
 
 Her voice had taken on a soft, sympathetic tone, and 
 she looked up in Bryan's face with an expression to 
 match. 
 
 " One gets accustomed to troubles, as to other things," 
 said Bryan ; " and this I have had, ever since I can 
 remember." 
 
 " But you will not you need not bear it always," said 
 Agatha. And her colour rose to the roots of her hair. 
 Would he catch her meaning 1 
 
 If he did, he took no notice of it simply passed it by, 
 and in answer said 
 
 "I hope not I should like, before I die, to become 
 possessed of it : I have always had that idea, since I was 
 a youth. My mother implanted it." 
 
 " But could you can you would it not take a long 
 time to " 
 
 Bryan rose, and he laughed awkwardly as he said, in 
 a manner he tried to make appear off-hand 
 
 " I am afraid it will, Miss Whaite ; but we must leave 
 that matter at present. We shall certainly not have time 
 for our game unless we begin at once. And if I eat one 
 more morsel, I shall not be able to take anything later." 
 
 Until that moment, Byran had been trying to carry 
 out his self-imposed programme; but he had suddenly 
 experienced a revulsion of feeling, a sense of self-disdain 
 had taken possession of him, also there had recurred to 
 him that sensation as of being entangled in a net which 
 had come upon him after reading his mother's note. 
 
 Agatha rose from her seat too, but with an audible 
 sigh : it had been very pleasant, having a tete-a-tete with 
 Bryan, and pouring out tea for him.
 
 UNDERCRAGG 81 
 
 It was already getting almost too dusk to see the balls 
 over that rock-bound lawn ; but the two began their 
 game. Agatha was a much more accustomed player than 
 Bryan ; but notwithstanding that, they kept pretty equal. 
 They had played two " sets," and were engaged on the 
 third, when Agatha, who had just announced that she 
 was "forty-love," in running to get the next ball, slipped 
 on the grass and fell. It is possible, nay probable, that 
 had she been playing with any one else, she would 
 instantly have sprung to her feet. As it was, however, 
 seeing Bryan running round the end of the net in order 
 to come to her assistance, she lay where she was. 
 
 "I hope you have not hurt yourself," he cried as he 
 ran to her. 
 
 "No, thank you I think not," she said, as he helped 
 her up. " You will think me very clumsy, I am afraid," 
 she went on ; " but I think I must have hurt my ankle a 
 little on Sunday night it feels rather weak." 
 
 "And I am afraid that was my fault," said Bryan, 
 feeling exceedingly uncomfortable, for Agatha was still 
 leaning upon him, and he heard footsteps. 
 
 Indeed just as Bryan ceased speaking, Mr. Whaite was 
 passing the opening. He saw the two and stopped 
 
 " Oh, you are there, are you ? " he said, a little drily, 
 Bryan thought. 
 
 " Yes, papa," said Agatha, advancing towards him, still 
 leaning upon Bryan's arm. She did not offer to explain 
 this, so Bryan felt he must. 
 
 " Miss Whaite has had a fall, I am sorry to say," said 
 the young man, as he shook hands with the elder one. 
 " We were having a game, and she slipped on the grass." 
 
 "You should be more careful, Agatha," said her father ; 
 " it's not the first time you've done it." 
 
 6
 
 82 DEAN-HURST 
 
 It was hardly perceptible, but still a close observer 
 might have seen Bryan's brows arch a little at this. 
 Possibly the partial slip on Sunday night had nothing to 
 do with Agatha's fall to-day. They walked slowly to the 
 house, Agatha limping the least little bit, Mr. Whaite 
 glancing at her now and then. What was in her heart 
 was becoming pretty plain to him ; and he had not quite 
 made up his mind about it. She did usually have her 
 own way in everything ; and he supposed in this, if she 
 really had set her mind upon it, she would eventually 
 have the same. But with her prospects, Agatha ought, 
 he felt, to marry a man of wealth and position, and not 
 one such as Bryan Dean. Certainly she would have 
 plenty of money for both ; but the proper thing was for 
 two full purses to go together. Still, Bryan had his 
 advantages he was a fine, handsome fellow ; he had no 
 vices ; he would be no spendthrift, to fling away his 
 wife's money ; and he belonged to one of the oldest 
 families in the county. Mr. Whaite would think about 
 the matter, he said to himself. It never once occurred 
 to him to question Bryan Dean's view of it. 
 
 Zillah was found comfortably curled up on a couch 
 near the fire in the drawing-room. She Avas a luxurious 
 little soul, and greatly enjoyed the creature comforts of 
 Undercragg. She did full justice to the "high tea" 
 which was now served. It was rarely that grouse or 
 game of any kind found its way on to the table at Higher 
 Dean Cottage, being much too dear in Mrs. Dean's eyes ; 
 but in season it was rarely absent from that of Under- 
 cragg, and it was a favourite dish of Zillah's. She was 
 very merry and bright, much more so than any of the 
 others. In their different ways, Bryan and Agatha were 
 feeling too deeply for much talk, and Mr. Whaite was
 
 UNDERCRAGG 83 
 
 naturally a man of few words. But he seemed to enjoy 
 Zillah's chatter, and smiled gravely at her sallies. 
 
 After tea they had music. All the young people played 
 and sang " a little," Bryan, indeed, had a fairly good 
 baritone voice, but music was not a special forte with 
 any of them. Part of the evening, Zillah played 
 draughts with Mr. Whaite, and Bryan and Agatha were 
 left at the piano together, the latter sometimes playing 
 the accompaniments for the former. To Bryan the time 
 began to drag terribly, and he would fain have been 
 excused remaining to the "light supper" which was 
 served at ten. But Zillah would take no hint she did 
 not mean to go home without supper. It 'was therefore 
 close upon eleven before they left, Mr. Whaite reading 
 in his daughter's face what she expected of him, namely, 
 the according to Bryan an invitation to come " any time " 
 to Undercragg, and always to call and have tea 011 his 
 way from Baleborough, if Zillah were up there. 
 
 The brother and sister had very little to say to each 
 other, as they wended their way homewards. Zillah's 
 spirits had evaporated, and she was getting tired, and 
 Bryan's mind was full of tumultuous thought. 
 
 It was a brilliant moonlight night, and the valley 
 formed a lovely picture in black and white. All was 
 very silent, -there seemed to be nobody stirring but 
 themselves, only the flow of the beck and an occasional 
 rustle of leaves could be heard, softly breaking the solemn 
 silence. It was the kind of night to make puny aims 
 seem more puny. They reached the cottage at length ; 
 and as usual, when they were late home, they went round 
 to the back door. Bryan gently opened it, and as he did 
 so, a scraping sound was heard. His mother and Rebecca 
 had gone to bed, and left a chair behind the door.
 
 84 DEAN-HURST 
 
 A low light was burning in the lamp on the sitting- 
 room table ; Bryan turned it up, and then he saw some- 
 thing white reared against one of the ornaments on the 
 mantelpiece. He took it in his hand it was a note 
 addressed to his sister, and he rather wondered to find 
 the envelope open. His heart gave a great bound it 
 would be the invitation to Edge House. 
 
 "Zillah, come here," he called out, "and see what 
 this is." 
 
 Zillah was sleepily taking off her boots in the kitchen ; 
 but she came quickly along the passage. She, too, guessed 
 what " this " would be. She took out the missive from 
 its cover, and found it as she had supposed, the note 
 giving the day for the little social gathering at the Farrars. 
 It was written by Fanny, and named " to-morrow." She 
 hoped both Zillah and Bryan would be able to go to tea ; 
 but if Mr. Bryan were too late from Baleborough, he 
 must come as soon as he could afterwards. 
 
 Zillah read the latter words with a bewildered feeling, 
 Bryan never went to Baleborough on a Wednesday, 
 then she glanced at the top of the sheet, which she had 
 not done at first, and saw the date ; it had been written 
 the previous day, and " to-morrow" meant "to-day." 
 
 AVith a vexed exclamation, Zillah threw the note down. 
 
 " It is too bad," she cried ; " we ought to have had this 
 yesterday. I wonder where it has been ? " 
 
 Bryan took it up and read it, though he knew, from 
 Zillah's face and speech, how the matter stood. 
 
 He did not wonder much how it happened, however ; 
 and even Zillah had a pretty shrewd inward guess. No 
 doubt his mother had purposely kept the note back ; and 
 a sharp feeling of anger rose in his breast against her, 
 along with that of bitter disappointment. The strength
 
 UNDERCRAGG 85 
 
 of the latter feeling aiding in the revelation, fast becoming 
 clear to Bryan, that Joyce Warwick even though he had, 
 as it were, known her only a week had become the dearest 
 to him of any of God's creatures. 
 
 When he spoke to his mother about the note the 
 following morning, she did not attempt any denial of 
 what she had done, but justified it. 
 
 " You couldn't be at two places at once," she said ; 
 " and I knew, if you didn't, which you ought to choose. 
 After Zillah had gone to Undercragg this morning, 1 
 opened the note ; and when I found it was for to-day, I 
 sent a message to the Farrars for you both that you wero 
 sorry, but you were previously engaged." 
 
 "But, mother," expostulated Bryan, "that was not 
 true." 
 
 " It was, in a sense," said Mrs. Dean ; " you know the 
 likelihood of it was discussed on Sunday." 
 
 " Yes for Zillah," said Bryan ; adding, " and if you 
 sent one note of invitation on to the station to me, you 
 ought to have sent the other, mother. Remember I am 
 not a child, and I must decide upon matters for myself ; " 
 and he left her, with more of resentment in his heart 
 towards her than at one time he would have thought 
 possible. 
 
 Mrs. Dean saw something of this feeling in her son's 
 face ; and registered it in her account against Joyce.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 IN DEAN HOLLOW 
 
 "Experience teacheth us 
 That resolution's a sole help in need." Shakespeare. 
 
 ' ' She knew 
 
 For quickly comes such knowledge that his heart 
 Was darken'd with her shadow." Byron. 
 
 HE great moor at the head of the valley or 
 dean dipped down somewhat suddenly, and 
 in a rounded form ; and that part of it had 
 thereby become known variously as " Dean 
 Hollow" or "T' Scoop." It was a wild 
 spot, and on it or in it grew nothing but heather, gorse, 
 and bilberry bushes. Two or three runlets gathered their 
 waters on its breast, and formed at the bottom the beck 
 which flowed through the valley. 
 
 On the Saturday afternoon following the Tuesday of 
 which we have spoken, Bryan Dean, greatly disturbed in 
 mind by reason of conflicting feelings and inclinations, 
 set out for a long stretch on the moorland above the 
 valley. Possibly he had an undefined idea a latent 
 hope that alone, in the recesses of nature, he might 
 imbibe something of her calm and peace. At any rate,
 
 IN DEAN HOLLOW 87 
 
 by means of the physical exercise, he might rid himself, 
 to some extent, of the miserable restlessness which had 
 taken possession of him. He released Bingo, the big 
 mastiff in the mill-yard, from his chain, knowing well 
 that, however he himself fared, his dog would enjoy 
 the run. 
 
 Mrs. Dean came out to the garden gate when she saw 
 the dog rush past : a hope striving to find lodgment in 
 her breast. 
 
 "Are you going down to Undercragg?" she inquired, 
 when her son came up. Zillah had gone thither in the 
 morning. 
 
 " No, mother ; I am going up on to Hawk's Moor," said 
 Bryan. " I want a long walk." 
 
 " You are not going to " began Mrs. Dean anxiously. 
 
 " I have no intention of going anywhere," interrupted 
 Bryan impatiently, knowing well where she meant, 
 " beyond where I have said." His feeling of irritation 
 against his mother had not yet entirely subsided, and she 
 was not wise in again touching the sore. 
 
 "You'll be back to tea?" asked Mrs. Dean. 
 
 "Very likely, but don't wait," said Bryan; "I may 
 not, if I get far away," and off he went round the corner, 
 where Bingo was waiting for him, Mrs. Dean returning 
 to the house with a frown on her brow. 
 
 Bryan and his dog meantime briskly took the road up 
 the valley. They passed the rough lane leading to Dean 
 Head Chapel, and Bryan looked wistfully up at the 
 Chapel House, whose gable only he could see from that 
 point. Before that, and on the other hand, the left, 
 they had passed the road leading to Royden Edge and 
 Edge House, and Bryan had been reminded of his dis- 
 appointment in connection therewith. On for another
 
 88 DEAN-HURST 
 
 two miles they wont, until every house and farm and 
 mill had been left behind, and the trees, which had 
 become more and more sparse, ceased altogether. Then, 
 leaving the cart-road to the left, Bryan and his canine 
 friend entered on a narrow rough foot-track which skirted 
 the steep sides of " The Scoop," as it was oftenest called, 
 and lost itself on Hawk's Moor above. It was just the 
 afternoon for hilly scenery, not too bright and not too 
 dull. Every moment changed the view; for a brisk 
 breeze stirred masses, big and little, of cumulus clouds, 
 whose shadows travelled quickly over the bosom of the 
 moors and hillsides. One moment the sun would shine 
 forth in strength and power, the next it would be hidden ; 
 thus there was, to the observant eye, an ever-varying 
 natural kaleidoscope. 
 
 At another time, Bryan Dean would have keenly and 
 pleasurably noted all this now, however, I am afraid lie 
 was too much preoccupied. Still, the beauty of the 
 scene, and the sweet, fresh, moorland air, and the exercise, 
 had their effect upon him, and lessened, at anyrate, the 
 pressure of his troubles and difficulties. 
 
 He left the path by and by, however, flung himself 
 down on the bilberry-stalks, and set himself to think. It 
 was of no use shelving the matter ; as far as he himself 
 was concerned, he felt that he ought and must come to 
 some decision. Certain questions pressed upon him which 
 required answering. A sudden, an unexpected crisis had 
 arisen in his affairs, and must be faced. His whole after- 
 life would depend upon his action now. 
 
 A key to his life's difficulties the " Open Sesame " to 
 the attainment of the family ambition had, as it were, 
 been thrust into his hands ; and his fingers were falling 
 nervelessly from it. Should he not brace himself to
 
 IN DEAN HOLLOW 89 
 
 grasp it, as his mother wished ? Should he not nerve 
 himself to the effort required of him, even at some self- 
 sacrifice ? Was it worth while, for mere feeling's sake, to 
 give up so much? "Would it not be easy, at so early a 
 stage, to quench feeling? 
 
 Long he sat, pondering the matter, first swayed this 
 way, and then swayed that gratified ambition, family 
 pride, a life's wish fulfilled, now bearing down the scale, 
 and anon, love, personified in sweet Joyce Warwick, sitting 
 triumphant, while all else combined in the other scale, 
 kicked the beam, so light and valueless did they seem in 
 comparison. 
 
 But love was newly born, and, though strong for his 
 age, could hardly compete with another feeling of many 
 years' standing and growth ; and Bryan Dean concluded 
 finally concluded, so he told himself that he would, 
 that he must let love go. It was a bitter thing, he 
 knew he should suffer, but time would bring healing, 
 and the advantage to be gained would bring compensa- 
 tion. He would yield to his mother's wishes, to the 
 urgings of his own ambition he would marry Agatha 
 Whaite. With his new-made resolve, Bryan Dean sprang 
 to his feet; Bingo also, who had been lying with his 
 head on his paws, intently watching him, and doubtless 
 ruminating as to what was so seriously occupying his 
 master's mind. 
 
 But the dog and his master had not taken many steps 
 ere the latter, who was roaming about in eccentric circles, 
 emitted a short bark, and set off running down the Scoop. 
 Bryan turned his head to seek the cause of this, and saw, 
 far below him and at some distance, two or three figures. 
 They were entering the Hollow from the other side. 
 Bryan stood still and watched them. He thought at first
 
 90 DEAN-HURST 
 
 they were children ; but when a passing cloud left the sun 
 unobscured, he saw that one, at least, was an adult, and, 
 by her garments, a woman. Could it be was it Joyce 
 Warwick ? 
 
 After the resolution he had formed, the momentous 
 decision he had just arrived at, Bryan Dean ought, if he 
 had acted consistently, there and then to have fled at his 
 utmost speed up and away on to the highest part of the 
 moor. But when are men in love consistent? or, for 
 the matter of that, men who are not in love 1 Bryan's 
 pulses quickened at the bare possibility ; and instead 
 of speeding up the moor, he followed fast at Bingo's 
 heels, down the Scoop, every moment more and more 
 sure that the figures he saw were those of Joyce and 
 her little brother and sister. He had not altered his 
 resolve oh no, of course not ! but but just for this 
 afternoon if it were they, he would give feeling a little 
 gratification give love a kind of farewell feast. It was 
 running headlong into danger, and he ought to have 
 known it ; but, knowing it or not, down he went, meta- 
 phorically and literally. And Bingo, getting an idea into 
 his fine head that a race had been entered upon between 
 himself and his master, and becoming excited thereby, 
 now and then emitted a short, breathless bark as he 
 stopped to see the position of his rival, and then bounded 
 on again, with his tail flourishing high above the bilberry- 
 stalks. 
 
 A shrill little shout from below soon made known 
 the fact that, at anyrate, Bingo had been recognised. 
 
 It was Jack's voice, soon joined by Jill's, as the dog, 
 considerably in advance, bounded into the midst of the 
 little group of three. Bingo knew the children well, 
 and received their caresses with many wags of his tail,
 
 rr v f\ g A~n->c\
 
 IN DEAN HOLLO W 93 
 
 looking up, meantime, at his approaching master with 
 open mouth and panting breast, as much as to say, " I'm 
 first ! " 
 
 "This is an unexpected pleasure," cried Bryan, ad- 
 vancing with extended hand towards Joyce, his eyes 
 radiating the delight he felt. 
 
 The two shook hands Joyce conscious that she coloured 
 a little, and feeling shyly happy at this rencontre, in spite 
 of herself and of several counts she had against Bryan. 
 
 "I came out for a solitary ramble," continued Bryan, "and 
 here I come upon you ! " The " you " was emphasised 
 in tone and look, and was plainly meant for Joyce alone, 
 though he turned immediately and spoke to the children. 
 
 " You must not let us interfere with your ramble," 
 said Joyce with some spirit. She recalled what she 
 had heard about Bryan and Miss Whaite ; she also re- 
 membered Tuesday, and Bryan's failure to put in an 
 appearance at Edge House a failure she, however, had 
 been prepared for, having met Rebecca on the way there, 
 and been told that " our young folks " were going to 
 Undercragg ; but the preparation had not prevented a feel- 
 ing of disappointment, whose depth Joyce did not like to 
 fathom. 
 
 There was a certain something in Joyce's tone which 
 made Bryan turn, to look at her questioningly. 
 
 "You don't think you cannot believe that I would 
 rather be alone ? " he asked. " You will not send me 
 away ? " 
 
 Joyce gave herself a mental shake, and answered with 
 a laugh 
 
 "If you really want to stay with us, I suppose you 
 must ; but you'll have to help to gather bilberries won't 
 he, Jack T'
 
 94 DEAN-HURST 
 
 "Oh yes; I'll promise to do that," said Bryan ; "I'm 
 a first-rate hand, I assure you. But isn't it rather late 
 in the season for them? I thought they were over." 
 
 " So they are," said Joyce ; " and I told the children 
 so; but nothing would do but we must come. The 
 results so far are splendid. Behold ! " and Joyce held 
 out for Bryan's inspection the contents of a little basket 
 she carried. At the bottom of it there lay what looked 
 like three little blue-black beads. 
 
 " One each ! " laughed Bryan. 
 
 " Yes," said Joyce ; " the nucleus of the pudding," 
 
 "You ought to be glad to have another hand," said 
 Bryan with mock gravity; "matters look serious for the 
 pudding." 
 
 " Perhaps I shall be when I sec the result," answered 
 Joyce mischievously; "but there will be none, so long 
 as we stand here talking." 
 
 "It is quite early yet," said Bryan, drawing a deep 
 breath of content, and lifting his hat from his damp 
 brow that the cool air might blow upon it. He felt at 
 that moment that he could stand there for ever with 
 Joyce. He thought she looked more beautiful than 
 ever: her simple straw hat was pushed back, the sun- 
 light caught her silken curls, which escaped therefrom, 
 her face was slightly flushed, partly from physical, partly 
 from mental causes, and in her eyes, and in her manner, 
 shyness strove with her natural brightness and buoyancy, 
 and gave her an added charm. 
 
 For Joyce, it was an equal happiness to be near Bryan. 
 But dared she give way to it ? She did not know, she 
 could not tell. All was a puzzle to her, and entirely in- 
 consistent one thing with another. 
 
 " Jack Jill ! if you ever mean to fill the basket, you
 
 IN DEAN HOLLO W 95 
 
 must give up playing with Bingo and go to work again," 
 cried out Joyce. "See, I shall set you the example," 
 and down she stooped, hiding her face from Bryan. 
 
 The young man bent down too, but over the bushes 
 very near to Joyce. If he found one berry, he carried 
 it immediately to the basket, as did the children, amid 
 much fun and laughter Bingo frolicking about amongst 
 them and enjoying the search as much as they. 
 
 " Oh dear ! " cried Joyce, at length, suddenly sitting 
 down amongst the stalks ; " I do believe my back will 
 be broken before we find enough." 
 
 " You'll have to effect a compromise and have a tiny 
 tavt made," said Bryan, giving up work too, and dropping 
 down instantly by the girl's side ; "for I believe my back 
 is in about the same condition," whereupon they both 
 laughed. 
 
 Jill at this moment came running with one bilberry 
 between her finger and thumb and carefully placed it in 
 the basket on her sister's lap. The berries still barely 
 covered the bottom of the little receptacle. 
 
 "If I were you, I'd take the basket," said Bryan, 
 addressing the child; "it would save considerable 
 labour." 
 
 " May I ? " asked Jill, extending her hand for it. 
 
 " If you promise to be very careful, and not upset it 
 and lose them all," said Joyce. 
 
 The promise was given, the basket received, and the 
 child, with Bingo, turned away. 
 
 "I would try a little higher, if I were you," cried out 
 Bryan. "I fancy you'll find more berries there." 
 
 The child went her way, and Bryan and Joyce were 
 thus practically left quite alone, seated side by side, in 
 that wild and secluded yet beautiful spot. For a few
 
 96 DEAN-HURST 
 
 seconds they sat perfectly silent, gazing before them 
 down the valley. But at this point the view was very 
 circumscribed, the shoulder of the hill, on the other side 
 of which stood Dean Head Chapel, almost filling up 
 the gap. 
 
 "It seems like sitting in a big green cup," said Joyce 
 at length, fighting against the shyness which hitherto 
 had precluded speech. 
 
 "It is simply glorious," said Bryan, pausing for a 
 word which should be sufficiently expressive. 
 
 Then they were both silent again Joyce slowly 
 stripping bilberry - stalks of their little green and red 
 leaves, and Bryan watching her pretty hands engaged in 
 the operation, and glancing now and then at her down- 
 cast eyes. 
 
 " This compensates for Tuesday," said Bryan by and 
 by. He spoke in a low tone, and more as if thinking 
 aloud than addressing any one, but the effect upon 
 Joyce was electrical her face and neck flushed rosy-red. 
 What could he mean 1 
 
 " I was so sorry so disappointed," he went on, bend- 
 ing forward that he might the better see Joyce's face. 
 " There was a misunderstanding about the time and I 
 did not know that Tuesday had been fixed until too 
 late. I had no opportunity of making a choice." 
 
 A sudden light in Joyce's eyes was a revelation, as 
 was the relieved way in which she said, naively enough, 
 and quite unconscious of what her words implied - 
 
 " Then you really meant to come to Edge House, Mr. 
 Bryan?" 
 
 "Of course I did Miss Joyce did you doubt it?" 
 he added. 
 
 His heart was beating wildly. Had Joyce really
 
 IN DEAN HOLLO W 97 
 
 cared, and been disappointed, too? Her whole manner 
 as well as her question might be thus construed. 
 
 What Joyce would have answered what further 
 would have been said what advances made on the 
 dangerous ground the two were treading, I know not 
 for, at that moment, Jack and Jill came flying down the 
 Scoop, with Bingo circling round them, and with the 
 startling intelligence that they had found no less than 
 " six bilberries " ! 
 
 Joyce sprang to her feet and took the augmented 
 basket from Jill's hands, thankful to have been saved 
 from a very embarrassing situation ; and Bryan sprang to 
 his, with such an admixture of joy and despair and 
 perplexity in his breast as is the portion, let it be 
 hoped, of few men. 
 
 It was joy, joy unspeakable, to think that Joyce 
 cared for him ; it was despair to link that with what he 
 had resolved to do ; it was unutterable perplexity, 
 because his heart and mind were at sea once more, not 
 knowing which haven to take that of love or ambition. 
 He and Joyce had no other tete-a-tete that memorable 
 afternoon. But when the bilberry gathering was con- 
 cluded, and with tired limbs and blackened fingers they, 
 with the two children, arrived at the Manse with about 
 a gill of the fruit, there remained little doubt in the 
 minds of either of the love of the other. 
 
 " It must just be gossip," said Joyce to herself, when- 
 ever her mind reverted to what she had heard about 
 Bryan and Miss Whaite. But in present happiness that 
 young lady was well-nigh forgotten, for the time. She 
 was disappointed that Bryan would not stay for tea at the 
 Manse, and scarcely understood it. But, truth to tell, the 
 young man's mind was in too great a ferment for society. 
 
 7
 
 98 DEAN-HURST 
 
 "Where is Zillah to-day?" asked Mrs. Warwick, as 
 Bryan was taking leave. 
 
 " Oh," said Bryan, in a manner which he tried to 
 make off-hand, "as usual at Undercragg." 
 
 "Where you will follow her, I suppose, by and by," 
 said Mrs. Warwick, with a meaning smile, "as usual, 
 too." 
 
 Bryan coloured uncomfortably ; and Joyce turned away 
 her head and looked out of the window lest any one 
 should see her face, for were it in tell-tale guise, as 
 it often was, it would reveal a dreadful sinking of 
 heart. 
 
 "I have been hearing something about you, Mr. 
 Bryan," went on Mrs. Warwick. " Must I congratulate 
 you?" 
 
 " You hear something about everybody in this valley, 
 don't you, Mrs. Warwick ? " said Bryan with a strained 
 smile. " I am not aware, however, that there is anything 
 about me calling for congratulation." 
 
 "I am a little premature, that is all, I fancy," said 
 Mrs. Warwick, noting Bryan's rising colour. 
 
 " Decidedly premature, I assure you," said Bryan, 
 wishing himself well out of the house. 
 
 " Ah, well, we shall see," said Mrs. Warwick. 
 
 Bryan thought Joyce's manner decidedly cold when 
 he took his leave, and he inwardly anathematised gossip- 
 ing tongues. 
 
 As soon as he had gone, Mr. Warwick came in from 
 his study, and tea was partaken of. 
 
 " I am sorry Mr. Bryan didn't stay," said the minister, 
 when he was told of the meeting in Dean Hollow. 
 "I heard his voice, and took it for granted he would 
 remain."
 
 IN DEAN HOLLO W 99 
 
 " He has other fish to fry, you know, my dear," said 
 Mrs. Warwick. "Have you forgotten what Absalom 
 told us the other day ; and he had it from his sister-in- 
 law." 
 
 " Well, it would be an easy way an easy way," said 
 Mr. Warwick reflectively. 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Warwick im- 
 patiently. 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Mr. Warwick, " I must have been 
 thinking aloud " he had a habit of doing so, sometimes. 
 " I I don't think I ought to mention what was in 
 my mind." 
 
 " What nonsense," said Mrs. Warwick irritably. " And 
 nobody here but your own family ! " 
 
 " Well, my dears, see that it goes no further, that is 
 all. What I was thinking was this : that if Bryan 
 Dean married Miss Whaite, it would be an easy way to 
 the gratifying of his great desire, Avhich is to reinstate the 
 family in their old home Dean-Hurst. It is his one 
 ambition in life, he told me so himself. I hope the 
 young man will achieve it." 
 
 " I don't think that's any secret," said Mrs. Warwick, 
 a little contemptuously. 
 
 " As far as I am concerned, it is not a thing to be 
 talked about," said Mr. Warwick, speaking very decidedly. 
 " Mr. Bryan told me in the course of a confidential con- 
 versation, the very last time he was here so I wish, and 
 insist, that it go no further." 
 
 It had gone quite far enough right down, in fact, 
 into the heart of his own Joyce. The knowledge of this 
 ambition of Bryan's was as a poisoned arrow lodging there, 
 and draining it of hope and joy and life. Since he had 
 spoken of it to her father, it must be true that he
 
 ioo DEAN-HURST 
 
 entertained it. If that were true, in all likelihood the 
 other story was true also. Each seemed a correlative of 
 the other. 
 
 As Joyce rose from the tea-table, her father noticed 
 that she looked pale. 
 
 " You have heen too far, and done too much this after- 
 noon, Joyce, my dear," he remarked kindly ; "if I were 
 you, I would go and rest an hour in your room." 
 
 Joyce inwardly blessed him, in her heart. She wanted 
 nothing so much as to make her escape. She did not 
 lie down, however, when she gained her room, but .flung 
 herself into the window-seat, whence she could see the 
 roof of Higher Dean Mill ; and she gazed down upon 
 it with longing, loving, sorrowing eyes. She dwelt in 
 memory over every word and tone and look of Bryan's 
 during the afternoon, and she could only arrive at one 
 conclusion he loved her, or was in danger of doing so 
 indeed, felt himself in danger. And that was Avhy he 
 had not stayed this evening. His ambition must make 
 his choice for him. He would never let his heart go to 
 the daughter of a poor minister. He must marry a girl 
 with money. Yes she saw it all now, as plainly as 
 possible. She, Joyce, had come in, as it were, inoppor- 
 tunely, and was in danger of spoiling his plans. He was 
 attracted by her to some extent but she interfered with 
 his ambition. He would allow himself to go so far with 
 her, but no farther. 
 
 Both love and pride were up in arms as Joyce con- 
 sidered these things; and both pointed to the same 
 object of attack namely, self. She loved Bryan too 
 much to be a clog upon him. He was all that heart 
 could desire he ought to be in the front rank of men 
 he ought to take the old position of the family it was
 
 IN DEAN HOLLO W 101 
 
 his rightful place. Yes, she loved him she was afraid 
 she loved him, impossible as it would seem to be in 
 this short time but, because she did so, she would 
 repel him, and not allow him, if even he wished it, to 
 cast ambition aside for her sake. Pride also took the 
 same side ; for if though it seemed unlike him but if 
 Bryan Dean thought that he could play with her feelings 
 make love covertly to her while paying his suit to 
 Agatha Whaite, he would find himself mistaken. Yes, 
 indeed ! But, in any case, her course was clear she 
 would repress and hide, and if possible exterminate, her 
 own growing love ; she would, by her manner, make 
 Bryan Dean understand that she was nothing to him and 
 desired to be nothing ; she would 
 
 " Oh, if I were only rich ! if I were only rich ! " was 
 the wailing cry with which poor Joyce ended. 
 
 By the which the reader may judge how easy it would 
 be for her to keep her resolves.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 A PLAIN SERMON 
 
 In this word gold, are all the powers of the 
 
 Gods ; the desires of men ; the wonders 
 
 Of the world ; the miracles of Nature." Lilly. 
 
 " Tempting gold alone 
 In this oar age, more marriages completes, 
 Than virtue, merit, or the force of love. " Wandesford. 
 
 OR six months in the year there was no 
 evening service at Dean Head. After 
 September, until May came round again, 
 the second service was held in the afternoon. 
 And busy work had Absalom Rodley during 
 that period, for the majority of the people constituting 
 the congregation coming from considerable distances, came 
 provided with lunch or dinner, in the shape of sandwiches, 
 cake, etc., and the chapel-keeper was expected to heat 
 the school boiler, set out tables and china in the lower 
 room, and make tea and coffee wherewith to wash down 
 the aforesaid viands. In the winter, therefore, Absalom 
 had usually only what he termed "just a snatch and a 
 bite" of the sermon; and if he had been specially 
 
 interested in it, there was afterwards much shouting of 
 
 102
 
 A PLAIN SERMON 103 
 
 questions thereupon down his wife's ear-trumpet for 
 good Mrs. Eodley sat so near, and was so very attentive, 
 knowing the need of strict attention, even with her 
 trumpet to her ear, that she missed less of the discourse 
 than most of the folk who required no scientific aid for 
 their aural organs. She had also a very retentive 
 memory, and could generally furnish her husband with 
 the text, chapter, and verse, the heads, and all the minor 
 divisions of the sermon. 
 
 " I missed t' third 'ead," Absalom would say, for 
 instance. " I had to out an' see how t' watter were 
 gettin' on; for if Mester "Warwick had just been 
 preychin' to 'em about patience, they'd blow me up, 
 some on 'em, if t' tay weren't ready t' varry minute 
 they were out o' t' chapel ; eh, there's a vast o' differ- 
 ence, there is that, between hearin' sarmons an' practisin' 
 'em ! " 
 
 This gathering in the schoolroom between the two 
 services was, in fact, a sort of weekly tea-meeting, but 
 without the public speaking of private speech there was 
 no lack, and it is to be feared that it was not always 
 "seasoned with grace." For people who led somewhat 
 secluded lives, and did not often otherwise meet, it 
 afforded too favourable an opportunity for a little gossip, 
 to be let slip. " Good Sunday as it was," as they would 
 sometimes say, apologetically, when conscience pricked a 
 little, after a discussion, perhaps, about " Mrs. Robson's 
 new bonnet," or " Fanny Farrar's young gentleman," or 
 "Mrs. Warwick's stand-offishness." 
 
 The latter lady always dreaded the return of the 
 autumn and the "afternoon service." She would 
 complain that, for six months in the year, she could never, 
 on the Sunday, call her house her own. At anyrate,
 
 104 DEAN-HURST 
 
 this had been the case for the first year or two after her 
 advent in Beck Dean. Not to mention the men, who, if 
 they came, usually went into the study one good 
 woman would find that she wished to consult the 
 minister, or the minister's wife, about something, and it 
 would " save her a trounce " during the week to " step 
 into " the Chapel House now ; and another " didn't feel so 
 well," or " was a bit starved, and thought she'd come into 
 the fire " ; while yet another would make no bones about 
 it, but announce that she had come in "for a bit of a 
 chat." 
 
 The previous minister's wife had allowed all this, 
 looking upon it as part and parcel of the duties attached 
 to the Dean Head Chapel House ; but Mrs. Warwick 
 regarded it as no such thing, and as soon as possible put 
 a stop to it. In divers ways she let the people know 
 that she considered their visits were very ill-timed ; and 
 it had required much skill on the part of Mr. Warwick 
 to steer his ministerial bark clear of offence, in con- 
 sequence. 
 
 Now, as a rule, no one intruded upon the privacy of 
 the minister's family on the Sunday ; but the conscious- 
 ness that so many of the people were "about" always 
 fidgeted Mrs. Warwick. She professed to her daughter 
 Maud that she never felt quite sure, on these occasions, 
 that there would be "no inroad from the heathens"; for 
 such had she dubbed, from the first, the hearty, genuine, 
 if somewhat rough, Northern folk constituting the bulk 
 of her husband's congregation. Mrs. Warwick was 
 entirely lacking, alike in the sympathy which would have 
 led her to grasp and appreciate, under their rough 
 exteriors, the sterling qualities of the people, and the 
 sense of humour, which would have enabled her to
 
 A PLAIN SERMON 105 
 
 enjoy the quaintness and force of their idioms, and their 
 general idiosyncrasies. 
 
 Of just a few, spite of her Southern prejudices, Mrs. 
 Warwick entertained a different opinion these, of course, 
 constituting the more cultured portion of her husband's 
 hearers. Amongst these, none was a greater favourite 
 than Bryan Dean. She cared little for Mrs. Dean she 
 was too independent, too self-opinionated, too strong 
 altogether for Mrs. Warwick, and had, she knew, not 
 been sparing in her criticisms, in early days, of the 
 household management of the Manse. She had no great 
 opinion, either, of Zillah, but for very different reasons 
 she thought her selfish and vain, and tarred with the 
 brush of the prevailing provincialism. 
 
 But of Bryan she was wont to say that he was "a 
 perfect gentleman almost the only one who attended 
 Dean Head Chapel." Of course the Farrars and the 
 Robsons, and one or two other families, were "all 
 right " ; but the fathers frequently, and even the sons 
 occasionally, might be detected in laches in their 
 English. 
 
 From the remarks which Mrs. Warwick sometimes let 
 drop in social circles, it was known that she and Miss 
 Maud were very punctilious upon points of speech and 
 behaviour, and some of their hosts and hostesses were 
 rendered very uncomfortable thereby. They were not all 
 so philosophical as rotund Mr. Robson, who remarked 
 once 
 
 " What does it matter how yo' talk, so as yo' say what 
 yo'mean? That's the point." 
 
 Robert Robson, his son, at the time when he had a 
 sneaking penchant for Miss Maud, feared it mattered a 
 good deal, and was made miserable for three days .once
 
 106 DEAN-HURST 
 
 when, after a visit she had paid beneath the paternal 
 roof, his sister Ehoda had reproved him for some glaring 
 defect in a sentence he had uttered in Miss Maud's 
 hearing. His mother found him afterwards "rooting 
 amongst some old school-books "; and Rhoda laughed when 
 she heard of it, and supposed that Robert must have been 
 in search of a grammar. Possibly it had dawned upon 
 him a fact which at school he had but dimly appre- 
 hended that the study of grammar had some connection 
 with daily speech. 
 
 But this had happened, and had been all over, a year or 
 two ago ; for either young Robson had found the minding 
 of his p's and q's altogether too troublesome, or he had 
 been too greatly repelled by Maud Warwick's coldness. 
 He had not, at anyrate, persevered in his suit, and had 
 eventually become entirely heart-whole again. 
 
 On Joyce's reappearance at Dean Head, however, 
 changed from a child of whom he had taken not the 
 slightest notice into a beautiful young girl, Robert 
 Robson had again become a victim to a heart-complaint. 
 And I am afraid that at this period he had, from his 
 coign of vantage in the gallery set apart for the choir he 
 being a member of that important body more eyes for 
 the minister's younger daughter than ears for the minister 
 himself. 
 
 The Robsons lived " Cowley way," and always brought 
 luncheon on Sundays, as did the Farrars, as a rule, from 
 the opposite direction ; but, except on " teaching days," 
 which at Dean Head happened only every third Sunday 
 Bryan and Zillah both taught in the school it had not 
 been the habit of the Deans to do so. Mrs. Dean rarely 
 " attended " more than once in the day, and Bryan pre- 
 ferred the walk to and fro, rather than the gossip and
 
 A PLAIN SERMON 107 
 
 lounge in the chapel-yard, between services. Zillah, how- 
 ever, occasionally stayed to lunch alone. 
 
 It was a dull day in November, and threatened rain, as 
 the various units going to form the congregation at Dean 
 Head wended their way thither. The top of the Scoop 
 and Hawk's Moor were completely hidden in the clouds, 
 and the nearer foreground Avas wrapped in fog. The 
 outside atmosphere was altogether most uninviting 
 every building, tree, bush, dripping with moisture. 
 Before they had started, Bryan Dean had suggested to 
 Zillah that, as the weather was so miserable, they had 
 better take luncheon with them though it was not " a 
 teaching day." But Mrs. Dean, who in consequence of a 
 headache was not herself going to chapel, would not hear 
 of their doing so. Truth to tell, she was never easy in 
 her mind when Bryan was anywhere near Dean Head. 
 She did not care to have her dinner alone, she said she 
 had nothing for them to take they must come home 
 and stay at home if the weather did not improve, etc., 
 etc. And, as usual, she had had her way, though Zillah 
 had pouted and grumbled, and Bryan had compressed his 
 lips ominously. 
 
 As the sister and brother passed the bottom of Eoyden 
 Edge Lane, the Farrar family were just coming in sight 
 and soon joined them Zillah and George Farrar, as a 
 matter of course, soon dropping behind together and being 
 lost sight of in the fog, sparring, quarrelling, falling in love 
 with each other, in that odd, inexplicable way which some 
 young people have. Fanny Farrar's fiand, was over from 
 Baleborough spending the Sunday, and of course they, 
 too, walked together; and Bryan was, in consequence, 
 left with the elders of the party. 
 
 Mrs. Farrar, with all her good-nature, was an inveterate
 
 io8 DEAN-HURST 
 
 gossip ; and as she panted on her upward way, one little 
 item after another was retailed for Bryan's benefit. He 
 was not much interested; but he listened patiently, 
 seeing that there was nothing which personally affected 
 him. But all at once he pricked up his ears Mrs. 
 Farrar was talking about Joyce Warwick, and saying 
 something, too, which made his heart at first almost stand 
 still and then bound on again madly. 
 
 "Yes I suppose there can be no doubt about it," went 
 on Mrs. Farrar complacently; "only, of course, Joyce is 
 so very young only eighteen, you know, on the sixth of 
 October I always remember her birthday, because it is the 
 same as Fanny's there are just two years between them." 
 
 " I don't think her father would consent to her being 
 engaged yet and she only just home from school," 
 continued Mrs. Farrar, after she had paused for an instant 
 to take breath "not likely. But a young man more in 
 love than Robert Robson, I suppose it's not possible to 
 see. Rhoda and Rachel tease him to death, I believe 
 but they like Joyce immensely, and they have her there, 
 or would have, two or three times a week. Folks used 
 to talk, a year or two since, about Robert and Maud ; but 
 his sisters cannot abide Maud, and I think she gave him 
 the cold shoulder, too and I don't think Robert fretted 
 very much. Rhoda told Fanny that he was only in love 
 inches then, where he is miles, now." 
 
 It was really wonderful how Mrs. Farrar could chatter 
 on as she did, and at the same time mount that steep, 
 rugged road up to Dean Head. They had reached the 
 gate now, and gossip must cease ; but a trivial incident 
 seemed to confirm Mrs. Farrar's astounding news : the 
 Warwick family were just emerging from their garden 
 gate, and out of the mist, in the opposite direction,
 
 A PLAIN SERMON 109 
 
 suddenly sprang Robert Robson, who. instantly planted 
 himself by Joyce's side. They had all passed into the 
 chapel before Bryan, who had to wait for Zillah, could 
 reach them. 
 
 Was this, then, the explanation of Joyce's recent cold- 
 ness of behaviour ? Had he alienated her, by his incon- 
 sistent, changeable, unreliable conduct 1 And had Robert 
 Robson won her heart once inclined to him, he felt sure 
 at the rebound ? Like things had happened he had 
 heard of them and he well deserved, he told himself, 
 that such should be the case here. 
 
 And Bryan Dean's thoughts, as he pondered these 
 things during the singing and prayer, were more gloomy 
 than the day. Now, that he had apparently lost Joyce, 
 he knew how much, how strongly, how deeply he loved 
 her. His ambition seemed a poor, puny thing in com- 
 parison with his love. During the last few weeks, spite 
 of that memorable episode in the Dean Scoop, Bryan had 
 been diligently trying to nurse the former feeling, in 
 accordance with his decision previously made. He had 
 been the better able to do this, because, thanks to his 
 mother's management, he had seen very little of Joyce 
 Warwick, and a good deal of Agatha Whaite ; and though 
 his love for the former had held him back from making 
 any decided advances to the latter, that young lady's 
 hopes, we may as well say here, were blossoming 
 apace for, certainly, never before had Bryan been so 
 gracious. 
 
 Bryan Dean must be excused if, on this particular 
 Sunday mojning, he did not enter very heartily into what 
 some people term the " preliminaries " of the service he 
 was too greatly disturbed in mind especially with Joyce 
 his lost love before his eyes Joyce who never once
 
 I io DEAN-HURST 
 
 glanced his way indeed, purposely avoided doing so, it 
 seemed to the distracted Bryan. 
 
 All at once the young man was roused to a sense of 
 his surroundings otherwise Mr. Warwick was taking 
 his text two texts in fact and somewhat startling ones 
 for him 
 
 Ecclesiastes vii. 12 "Money is a defence." 1 Timothy vi. 
 10 " The love of money is the root of all evil." 
 
 " My dear friends," said the minister, " the two truths 
 here set before us must, I opine, have been verified in 
 the experience of everyone of us here present. Some 
 there are, it is true, who would cavil at the first statement, 
 who pooh-pooh the benefits accruing from the possession 
 of money, and are particularly fond of the phrase ' filthy 
 lucre' when speaking of it. But we may take it for 
 granted, I think, that, regarding these people, one of two 
 things is true either they are not perfectly sincere, and 
 would readily enough grasp the opportunity, did it come 
 to them, of possessing more of it, or, from always having 
 been well supplied with it, they have never felt the need 
 of money; for those who have felt this need to any 
 extent those who have endured hardship through the 
 want of it know too well the truth of the text ever to 
 decry money. 
 
 " ' Money is a defence ' in all the stages, and under all 
 the circumstances of life. 
 
 " It is a defence to young life against the lack of the 
 aliment needful to the building up of the physical frame, 
 and the proper clothing and shelter thereof." Here the 
 minister drew a graphic picture of the street Arab, with 
 his poor little thin, puny, uunourished body, with his 
 ragged clothing and wretched home, and contrasted his
 
 A PLAIN SERMON in 
 
 position with that of the child whose parents had ample 
 means whereby to defend it from hunger and nakedness 
 and cold. 
 
 "Money, too," continued Mr. Warwick, "is a defence 
 to the child against ignorance, lawlessness, and barbarism. 
 Contrast," said the minister, speaking evidently with deep 
 feeling, " contrast the position of two boys, we will say 
 the one born in St. James' the other in St. Giles'. 
 While the former is under the care of a private tutor or 
 at a preparatory school, the latter, uncared for, untaught, 
 is spending his days in the gutter though, thank God, 
 much now is being done to remedy matters in respect of 
 education. While the former is at Eton or Harrow or 
 Rugby, having his mind and body exercised and trained, 
 and his memory stored with classic lore, the latter is 
 probably becoming initiated into the art of petty thieving, 
 and into the use of vile language. And while the former 
 is proceeding to Oxford or Cambridge, and being fitted 
 for the service of the Church, the State, the Bar, the latter 
 is graduating in crime, and becoming a candidate for the 
 felon's dock and the prisoner's cell. It is money, and all 
 that money brings in its train, which is a defence to the 
 one youth ; and it is the lack of money in extreme cases 
 like this, usually for several generations, and in the first 
 instance probably the result of misuse of it which leaves 
 the other the prey of all these evils. Yes ' money is a 
 defence ' to young life. 
 
 " Then in middle-life, what a ' defence ' is money ! 
 From carking care for with money a man can provide 
 things honest in the sight of all men, can supply those 
 dear to him with the comforts he desires for them, can 
 view their future with complacency, even were he to be 
 taken from them, knowing that, with money, they will be
 
 112 DEAN-HURST 
 
 safe from niauy of the ills of life ; from mean surround- 
 ings for with money he may indulge in precious books, 
 in works of art, in an altogether tasteful home ; from a 
 monotonous existence for with money he may go forth 
 and see and drink in the many beauties and wonders of 
 God's world its mountains, its valleys, its lakes, its 
 uprising fires, its descending waters. 
 
 "And, in old age, when the springs of life slacken, 
 when effort is painful, when the young age pushes aside, 
 in its onward stride, the enfeebled frame, with its falter- 
 ing steps, more than ever, perhaps, then is it true that 
 'Money is a defence.' The necessaries of life, the 
 comforts of life, the peace, the essential rest of life then, 
 as far as outward things are concerned, depend upon 
 money. And, alas ! be it spoken, often the very friend- 
 ships of life are dependent upon it the penniless man 
 being, as a rule, the friendless man. 
 
 " And now, my dear friends," continued the minister, 
 " it is because these things are so patent, because the needs 
 of civilisation are so many, and so various, and because 
 money can so well minister to them, that men are in such 
 great danger of loving money, of depending upon it, of 
 fancying it can do more for them even than it can ; are 
 in danger of sacrificing their best interests, of uprooting 
 their highest principles, of imperiling their immortal souls 
 in order to get it. And these considerations bring me to 
 the second part of my subject, founded on the Apostle Paul's 
 statement that ' The love of money is the root of all evil.' 
 "Money can give men the means of indulging in 
 pleasure ; and many love it on that account, and will have 
 it, at all hazards wildly speculate, embezzle even ; the love 
 of money thus becoming the root of recklessness and dis- 
 honesty often of licentiousness, and the grossest immorality.
 
 A PLAIN SERMON 113 
 
 " Money can give men ease from care ; but some men 
 love it so much that, in the pursuit of it, they, instead, 
 load themselves with care, and the seeds of good are 
 thereby choked in them. Even if they do not, in their 
 greed of gain, permit their principles to become under- 
 mined, which, alas ! too many do, they allow business to 
 absorb all their time, all their thoughts ; and even men 
 who have once been sincere Christians, have thereby 
 fallen away from grace. 
 
 "Money, again, gives men glorious opportunities of 
 doing good ; but its possession so often fosters the 
 baneful love for it, that the desire to share its benefits 
 with others becomes gradually less, either actually or 
 proportionately, with the means at disposal. We must 
 all have known men kind, helpful to others, generous in 
 their younger days, when their possessions were compara- 
 tively small who have gradually, as their purses have 
 grown and swelled out, tightened instead of slackened 
 the strings thereof. They are hardly conscious of the 
 deterioration themselves, so insidious in its growth is 
 this root of evil ; but it is there all the time, stealthily 
 growing and hardening, and sapping the root of the love 
 of goodness. With regard to money-loving, the word of 
 God is never more powerfully true than when it states, 
 that ' The heart is deceitful above all things.' " 
 
 Upon many others of the different phases of money- 
 loving, and upon its evil effects on the life and character, 
 did Mr. Warwick further dwell its production of selfish- 
 ness, unscrupulousness, avarice, etc., etc. And most 
 earnestly did he exhort his hearers to guard against the 
 first young growths of this " love of money " to uproot 
 them, in God's name and strength. Yea, to live so 
 consecrated a life, with a soul so permeated with the love 
 
 8
 
 ii 4 DEAN-HURST 
 
 of God and all good things, so given up to the service 
 of humanity, that this sordid love could take no root 
 therein, finding nothing on which to feed. 
 
 In conclusion, the minister said impressively : " Well 
 may the apostle say, then, that 'The love of money 
 is the root of all evil' for because of it man will 
 deceive his fellow-man in word, overreach him in deed, 
 and secretly rob him; men, and women too, will 
 deliberately stand before God's altar, and dare to take 
 vows upon themselves which they know are utterly 
 false neither more nor less than selling themselves for 
 gold and lands ; and man will even, for the sake of this 
 same gold, imbrue his hands in his brother's blood. May 
 God, of his infinite mercy, forgive us, if any amongst us 
 are secretly nursing this love, and give us the will and 
 the strength to strike at its root in our hearts, and every 
 day and every hour to fight manfully against it. Amen 
 and Amen." 
 
 There is a good deal of hearing for other people in all 
 congregations, and there was much mental fitting of caps 
 going on as the minister proceeded with his discourse 
 that morning. But there was one of the number, at any- 
 rate, who placed the cap on his own head with shame 
 and confusion of face ; and that was Bryan Dean. He 
 would not admit, even for his own benefit or excuse, the 
 plea of exceptional circumstances, and a certain romance 
 which might be said to attach to the end he had had in view 
 justifying the means, some might say. He saw himself 
 set forth as the mean, self-seeking, forsworn fortune- 
 hunter, " standing at God's altar " by the side of Agatha 
 Whaite and he despised himself. 
 
 From that moment, Dean -Hurst seemed utterly 
 worthless, purchased at the cost of his own self-respect
 
 116
 
 A PLAIN SERMON 117 
 
 regardless of the feeling in his heart for Joyce 
 Warwick. 
 
 The service was over, Absalom opened the doors, the 
 people moved out, but very, very slowly, and the sound 
 of opening umbrellas, and sundry exclamations about the 
 weather, penetrated into the aisles. The darkness had 
 been deepening for some time, the white mists had rolled 
 away, and had given place to pouring rain. A steady, 
 heavy, persistent downfall did Bryan Dean and Zillah 
 find, on reaching the door. 
 
 " Oh dear ! " cried the latter, " I wish we had brought 
 dinner with us ; do look how it rains." 
 
 "Stay and have some with us," said good-natured 
 Mrs. Farrar, who was close behind, and heard her. " I 
 daresay we shall have enough," and she glanced at both 
 the brother and sister. 
 
 " You are very kind," said Bryan with a smile, " but 
 that is hardly likely, and we must not rob you in that 
 way. Zillah had better stay, however." 
 
 Zillah thought so too especially as she would have 
 George Farrar's company during the meal. 
 
 Bryan was just putting up his umbrella, after the 
 Farrars and Zillah had made a rush across the graveyard 
 to the schoolroom, when he heard Mrs. Warwick's voice 
 close behind 
 
 " You are never going home in all this rain, surely," 
 she said. " Come in with us and have a little dinner." 
 
 Bryan could scarcely believe his own ears but it was 
 indeed, he found, a bond fide invitation, repeated by the 
 giver with warmth when the young man hesitated. And 
 to his astonishment, he found himself the next minute 
 ushered into the Manse dining-room, and shaking hands 
 with Joyce, who had preceded him. She had consider-
 
 ii8 DEAN-HURST 
 
 able command of herself, and so had he ; but they both 
 coloured a little as they looked at each other Bryan, 
 thinking of what he had heard, and looking upon her 
 as probably lost to him, feeling unutterable things ; and 
 Joyce, spite of her resolution of renunciation, feeling that 
 Bryan was as dear to her as ever. 
 
 During dinner Mrs. Warwick put a plain question to 
 her husband 
 
 " My dear," she said, " whatever led you to preach that 
 sermon about money this morning?" 
 
 The minister smiled. " Because I think we all of us 
 need warning," he said. " But probably," he went on, 
 "it was partly owing to irritation about our lease." 
 Mrs. Warwick, by this time, knew of the difficulty. 
 " We make no progress, Mr. Bryan," he said, addressing 
 the young man. "Captain Crimsworth writes to say 
 that he leaves these matters entirely with his agent. A 
 personal interview might possibly have done some good, 
 notwithstanding ; but the time will have run out before 
 the captain returns to England, and the agent is inexor- 
 able. Our deacons say they will not submit to a rise of 
 a hundred per cent, on the ground-rent, which is practically 
 what he wants : and so things are at a deadlock." 
 
 "It is a most unfortunate business," said Bryan; "but 
 if the worst comes to the worst, we must hold the 
 services elsewhere during the interval, and trust to a 
 personal appeal to the captain. With the chapel standing 
 empty and useless, he will hardly resist it, surely ; it is 
 a very good thing the lease for this part of the ground " 
 that on which the Manse stood " is a newer one." 
 
 "But where can we worship?" asked the perplexed 
 minister. "The schoolroom is, as you know, on the 
 same plot as the chapel."
 
 A PLAIN SERMON 119 
 
 "Well," laughed Bryan, "if you and the congregation 
 can put up with the smell of wool, and of brimstone, and 
 of oil, and the general griminess, you may have the use 
 of my warehouse for a few weeks. The forms could be 
 brought down there from the schoolroom." 
 
 " A good idea a very good idea. Thank you, thank 
 you very much," cried the minister. And he was so 
 pleased and relieved that he shook Bryan by the hand 
 very heartily.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 AN AFTERNOON AT DEAN -HURST 
 
 " His eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming. ' 
 -E. A. Poe. 
 
 "What we love perfectly, for its own sake 
 
 We love, and not our own ; being ready thus 
 Whate'er self-sacrifice is ask'd, to make : 
 That which is best for it, is best for us." Sowtlwy. 
 
 INGE Dean-Hurst had passed into the hands 
 of the Crims worths, it had usually been 
 occupied by a younger son of the family. 
 It had never been tenanted by the head of 
 it, the paternal estate, Crimsworth Hall and 
 Park, being in the same neighbourhood only, in fact, 
 four or five miles away. But it was a considerable time 
 now since any of the Crimsworths had dwelt at Dean- 
 Hurst. It had sometimes been let ; but at the time of 
 our story it was occupied by Mr. Scowcroft, Captain 
 Crimsworth's agent. 
 
 Had Dean-Hurst been situated in a neighbourhood 
 frequented by tourists, there is no doubt that it would 
 have become quite a show-place, as, besides being itself so 
 
 picturesque a building, it contained many treasures, in the 
 
 120
 
 AN AFTERNOON A T DEAN-HURST \ 2 1 
 
 shape of carved oak furniture and ancient portraits. 
 "With, the idea of its redemption always in mind, these 
 things had been allowed to remain in Dean-Hurst, and 
 were now considered as part and parcel of the possession, 
 and were inalienable from it. 
 
 When it had last been empty, now several years ago, the 
 Deans had gone through it, and Mrs. Dean had not failed 
 to improve the occasion. Neither had Bryan needed 
 much the spur the old place itself, the grim ancestors 
 on the walls, the carven chairs upon which they had 
 sat, the beds upon which they had slept, all making silent 
 appeals to him. Zillah had been too young to be much 
 impressed, and was never at any time so impressionable 
 as Bryan, in things pertaining to the past ; she being far 
 more matter-of-fact. Still, she was highly pleased and 
 interested when Agatha Whaite, after several times 
 expressing a wish in Zillah's hearing to visit Dean- 
 Hurst, one day early in December sent her a note saying 
 that her father had arranged with Mr. Scowcroft, and 
 the latter with his housekeeper, for her to be shown 
 through it on the following day, Tuesday; and she 
 would be glad if Zillah would accompany her. 
 
 Zillah handed the note to her mother, and the grim 
 mouth of Mrs. Dean relaxed in a smile of satisfaction as 
 she read it. 
 
 " I should like to go very much," said Zillah ; 
 "but" 
 
 " Of course you'll go," said Mrs. Dean, refolding the 
 note. 
 
 "But Joyce is coming to-morrow, you know," said 
 Zillah. 
 
 " Send her back word," said Mrs. Dean. 
 
 " I don't like to do that again, mother it would be the
 
 122 DEAN-HURST 
 
 third time. She's only been here twice since she came 
 home in September," said Zillah, " and she never came 
 less than twice a week before she went away." 
 
 " Well you know the reason," said Mrs. Dean. " You 
 can have her as often as you like after," she added 
 significantly. 
 
 " Oh can 1 1 " said Zillah, a little rebelliously. She 
 could not help being fond of Joyce, and she did not like 
 the present embargo. "But," she went on, "I don't 
 know what to do about to-morrow I do not like to put 
 Joyce off again." 
 
 Mrs. Dean sat thinking. With a face like the Sphinx, 
 her brain was busily at work. She had seen enough of 
 Joyce to know something of the generous nature of the 
 girl, and that she would be easily wrought upon by any- 
 thing of romantic interest attaching to those she cared 
 for. How would it be if she, too, were shown the past 
 glories of the Deans, and a hint given to her thereafter 
 that they were recoverable in a certain way ; a way in 
 which she had no part or lot except to stand aside in 
 it? 
 
 " I wonder," she said, " if Agatha " that young lady 
 had begged that Mrs. Dean, as well as Zillah, would use 
 her Christian name " would object to your taking Joyce 
 with you ? " 
 
 Zillah looked astonished ; she was not clever enough 
 to follow the windings and workings of her mother's mind. 
 The idea pleased her, however, and she said so. It 
 certainly, too, seemed to be the best way out of the 
 difficulty. 
 
 " I will write and ask Agatha if I may," she said, " and 
 tell her how it is. I don't think she will mind one bit ; 
 and I'm sure Joyce would like to go. I can send Sam
 
 AN AFTERNOON A r DEAN-HURST 123 
 
 up to Dean Head, to tell her to come down earlier, when 
 I have heard from Agatha again." 
 
 And so it was settled. The groom from Undercragg 
 was waiting for an answer, and Zillah's request was soon 
 despatched. In little more than an hour the man was 
 back again with his mistress's reply. 
 
 Yes, she said in her second note, she would be very 
 pleased to see Joyce Warwick with Zillah, and also, if 
 she would accompany Zillah and herself afterwards to 
 Undercragg for tea. 
 
 This contingency had not been overlooked in Mrs. 
 Dean's plannings ; but she saw little danger in it. 
 Bryan had visited Undercragg the previous Saturday, and 
 she had never known him go there twice so near together. 
 He might be depended upon not to call on the morrow, 
 on his way from the station. Besides, she would tell 
 Zillah that she and Joyce must leave very early after tea 
 they would then require no escort, but would be 
 sufficient company one for the other. And of the intended 
 expedition, no word was to be spoken to Bryan the 
 story of the visit to Dean-Hurst could afterwards be 
 retailed to him as a " pleasant surprise." Joyce's share 
 in it could do no mischief then. So far she, Mrs. Dean, 
 had been very fortunate in her arrangements about Joyce's 
 visits to Higher Dean she had, as Zillah had said, only 
 been there twice, since her return from Brussels, and both 
 times it had been market - day, and Bryan away at 
 Baleborough. True, he had escorted her home on his 
 return ; but Zillah had also gone, by prior agreement with 
 her mother. Mrs. Dean guessed something of the con- 
 flict going on in her son's mind, and was in constant dread 
 of the victory being on the side of Joyce. She did not 
 as yet know of Bryan's self-conviction of the sin of
 
 124 DEAN-HURST 
 
 mercenariness, which, irrespective of Joyce, was leading 
 him to the withdrawal of his heartless suit for the hand 
 of Agatha Whaite. It would have to be done gradually, 
 Bryan said to himself, so as to hurt Agatha's feelings as 
 little as possible. 
 
 On the day following Tuesday at two o'clock in the 
 afternoon, Agatha Whaite arrived, according to arrange- 
 ment, at Higher Dean, to fetch Zillah and Joyce; and 
 soon the three girls were speeding, in the Undercragg 
 waggonette, down the valley towards Dean-Hurst. 
 
 " It was so kind of you to let me go with you," said 
 Joyce, addressing Agatha. " I have so often wished, as 
 I have passed it, that I could go inside." 
 
 "Zillah must be most pleased of all to go through it," 
 said Agatha ; " she has not been in Dean-Hurst since 
 she was a child, it seems." "And I suppose, Zillah," 
 she went on, turning to her, " that you would not realise 
 then your special interest in it ? " 
 
 "No, indeed I didn't," said Zillah; "I thought it 
 was a- dismal old place that was about all." 
 
 The other two laughed at this characteristic speech of 
 Zillah's, and she herself joined them. 
 
 " I recollect the portraits the best of anything," she 
 went on ; "and my mother telling me they were all 
 Deans." 
 
 " What frights they are," I said to her ; " whereupon I 
 received a severe reprimand. In one of the worst-looking, 
 she professed to see a strong likeness to Bryan, I 
 remember." 
 
 It was impossible to help laughing at Zillah's descrip- 
 tion, though both her auditors thought that the defunct 
 Dean could not have been so bad-looking as Zillah 
 professed, if he bore the slightest resemblance to Bryan.
 
 AN AFTERNOON A T DEAN-HURST 125 
 
 But they would, they reflected, soon be able to judge for 
 themselves. 
 
 Arrived at the latticed gateway, the groom sprang down 
 and pulled the bell there ; and an elderly woman speedily 
 came and opened it. Mr. Scowcroft was a bachelor, and 
 this was his housekeeper. She must have been very tall 
 in her young days, for even now, with her shoulders very 
 much bent, she was far above the middle height. She 
 had a pale, withered face, and her iron-grey hair was 
 turned back under a full white cap. She wore a long, 
 straight black dress, and altogether formed an appropriate 
 figure for her surroundings, as she led the way from the 
 gate to the huge nail-studded oaken door. This pathway 
 was paved with diamond-shaped flags, as was the floor of 
 the porch, which had stone seats, like those found often 
 in the porch of an old church. 
 
 The door opened into a wide hall, or rather small 
 square room, panelled with oak, and containing an oaken 
 press or two, an ancient clock with a brass face, and a few 
 pieces of armour. Out of this ascended a wide staircase, 
 with a fine balustrade of black oak, beautifully carved. 
 But the girls did not, of course, immediately ascend the 
 housekeeper, Mrs. Parker, conducting them first into the 
 downstairs rooms. 
 
 Though it was winter, it was a bright, sunny afternoon, 
 and a slight sprinkling of snow outside reflected the 
 sunshine and made the rooms lighter than they often 
 were in summer. But spite of this, the dark oak pan- 
 elling which gave them an appearance delightful to the 
 antiquary, rendered them anything but cheerful. A 
 huge sideboard of black oak, in the dining-room, made 
 Agatha Whaite sigh with a mixture of delight and envy. 
 It bore in its centre panels, amid many ornamental scrolls,
 
 126 DEAN-HURST 
 
 the monogram " B. D." It was Agatha who pointed this 
 out to Zillah and Joyce, before either had noticed it, or 
 the housekeeper had had time to draw their attention to 
 it. But Agatha looked at it with something more than 
 delight and envy. Hope, strong hope had place in her 
 breast, that she should soon restore this and other 
 ancient family relics to the present B. D., and herself 
 share in their glories. 
 
 And with eyes moist with unshed tears, Joyce glanced 
 at Agatha, and felt that had she it at her disposal, she 
 would have given the world to have been in her position 
 able to buy back this old domain, and lay it, with its 
 priceless family treasures, at the feet of the man she 
 loved. 
 
 In this room were the chief of the portraits ; and soon 
 Zillah cried out, pointing to one hanging near the centre 
 of the wall opposite the fireplace 
 
 " That is the one that is the fright mother thought 
 Bryan was rather like ! " 
 
 " That is the third Bryan Dean," said the housekeeper, 
 who seemed to be well up in the family history ; " there 
 is a story handed down that he was not very scrupulous, 
 and was very high-handed, and that he added to the 
 estate by unjust means." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed all three girls simultaneously, with 
 long-drawn breaths. 
 
 " He may well be a fright," said Zillah. 
 
 " There is not the least resemblance to your brother," 
 said Agatha, rather hotly ; " he could not look like 
 that." 
 
 Joyce said nothing ; but gazed upon the portrait 
 fascinated. She did see a likeness a strange one a 
 wonderful one considering the interval of a hundred
 
 127
 
 AN AFTERNOON A T DEAN-HURST 1 29 
 
 and fifty years ; but it was not to Bryan, except perhaps 
 in the firm moulding of the chin, it was to Bryan's 
 mother, in her sterner aspects, and with an expression in 
 her eyes which Joyce had once or twice caught latterly 
 bent upon herself, Joyce, surreptitiously, and which had 
 made her almost shudder. The look in Mrs. Dean's eyes 
 had been instantly withdrawn ; but here, from the canvas, 
 it was steady and persistent a concentrated ray of dark, 
 bitter hatred. The fascination with which Joyce's eyes 
 were held to the eyes in the picture, was the fascination 
 of horror. 
 
 " I wonder of whom he was thinking when he had 
 that portrait taken," said Agatha. " I should not have 
 liked to have been in that person's shoes. His expression 
 is positively malignant." 
 
 " Mother couldn't have meant those awful eyes, nor 
 that cruel mouth, when she fancied this Bryaa Dean like 
 our Bryan," said Zillah. " She must have seen any 
 likeness there is in the chin and general shape of face 
 and the dark complexion his nose is a wee bit like, too, 
 when you examine it." 
 
 " Let us go," said Joyce, with a shiver ; and with a 
 great effort, she turned her head away. 
 
 Agatha, however, was not ready to leave the dining- 
 room yet; and she and Zillah lingered, examining one 
 or another of the portraits there, while Joyce and the 
 housekeeper passed on into the adjoining room, the 
 library, where Joyce sat down to wait, in a big oaken 
 chair, the subject of an unusual depression. The long 
 mullioned window here was in its upper part filled with 
 stained glass, consisting chiefly of coats-of-arms with their 
 mottoes and crests. They were those of the neighbouring 
 old families, in this and the adjoining counties, with 
 
 9
 
 130 DEAN-HURST 
 
 which the Deans had intermarried. In the centre was 
 their own, and over it the crest which Joyce so well 
 knew, from having seen it so often on the Deans' silver 
 a raised arm bearing a sword, and in the act of striking. 
 Beneath the shield, a scroll bore the motto : " Per fas 
 et nefas." 
 
 The housekeeper saw Joyce gazing at the window, and 
 volunteered some information regarding it. Amongst 
 other things, she said 
 
 " Master says the Deans' motto, in English, is : 
 ' Through right and wrong.' " 
 
 Joyce sat pondering it. What did it mean? That 
 through right on their side, and wrong on the part of 
 others, the Deans would fight their way ? or did it imply 
 that they would pursue their own object, cling to their 
 own purpose, even if thereby they wronged others? 
 Joyce could not tell ; but she felt quite sure that Bryan 
 Dean the third had been capable of the latter ; and she 
 shuddered again, as she thought of his eyes and his stern 
 determined mouth. Determination seemed to be, indeed, 
 a family trait, judging by the faces delineated on the 
 walls of Dean-Hurst. 
 
 Zillah and Agatha came slowly into the library ; and 
 the latter took her stand before the old window, with 
 eyes which seemed positively to devour this silent 
 testimony to the long pedigree of the Deans. She, 
 too, recognised the crest, and remembered the silver 
 with a sigh of envy. Mrs. Parker again translated the 
 motto. 
 
 " Why, I see the Deans have intermarried with the 
 Aughtons," said Agatha, by and by, in an astonished 
 tone. (The Aughtons had become a powerful family, and 
 had been ennobled during the last century.) " I know
 
 AN AFTERNOON A T DEAN-HURST 131 
 
 their coat-of-arms very well, for I have been through 
 their place at Kirkton." 
 
 " Which is it 1 " asked Zillah, with some swellings 
 of pride. 
 
 Agatha thereupon pointed out the Aughton shield, 
 with a throb of pride herself thinking of the future. 
 
 The little party next visited the drawing-room. It 
 was a fine old room on the second storey oak-panelled 
 too ; but there was a beautiful frieze above the oak, and 
 a very handsome ceiling. But Che centre of attraction 
 was the fireplace and mantelpiece the latter reaching 
 to the ceiling, and ornamented with carving. Here also, 
 in the lower panels immediately above the mantelshelf, 
 were introduced divers coats-of-arms. 
 
 The furniture in this room, however, was modern ; and 
 there was a certain incongruity in it. The pictures on 
 the walls were of a mixed character engravings, water- 
 colours, and two or three old portraits, also in water- 
 colours. 
 
 " What a beautiful girl ! " exclaimed Agatha, stopping 
 in front of one of these. " She was not a Dean ! " 
 
 Then laughingly she apologised and explained. 
 
 " I do beg your pardon, Zillah," she said. " What I 
 meant was, that with her complexion she could not have 
 been a Dean. She is quite a blonde, you see, and you 
 are all so dark." 
 
 " She married one of the Deans," said the housekeeper. 
 " I believe she was a Miss Saxon of Saxonthorpe." 
 
 " Indeed," said Agatha, much interested. 
 
 During this conversation, Mrs. Parker had been 
 glancing first at the drawing and then at Joyce, and then 
 again at the picture ; and at this juncture she remarked, 
 addressing Joyce
 
 132 DEAN-HURST 
 
 " If you'll excuse my saying so, miss I think the 
 picture is a deal like you. Perhaps you are related to 
 the Saxons?" The housekeeper knew the other two 
 girls, but Joyce was a stranger to her. 
 
 " Oh, no I am not," said Joyce ; adding, with a vivid 
 blush, "and I am not half so good-looking as that 
 girl." 
 
 " If you had your hat off and your hair done the same, 
 it might pass for your portrait, miss, I assure you," said 
 the housekeeper. 
 
 " Miss Warwick is darker considerably," said Agatha, 
 with a little frown puckering her brows. 
 
 "Yes, she is rather darker; but that seems to me 
 about the only difference," said Mrs. Parker. 
 
 " I certainly see a little likeness, myself," said Zillah. 
 
 "Please don't discuss me any more," remonstrated 
 Joyce, with a laugh. She noticed that, for some reason 
 or other, Miss Whaite was not pleased with the discovery 
 of the resemblance. 
 
 " I have understood," said the housekeeper, with 
 another glance at the picture, " that this lady was the wife 
 of the last Dean who occupied Dean-Hurst." 
 
 " She had herself to leave it ? " asked Agatha. 
 
 " So I understand," said Mrs. Parker. 
 
 " How I pity her ! " exclaimed Agatha. 
 
 " Yes, it must have felt very hard," said the house- 
 keeper, "especially as she had children." 
 
 " From one of whom Miss Dean here is descended 1 " 
 said Agatha, indicating Zillah. 
 
 " So I suppose," said Mrs. Parker. 
 
 " How do you know so much about our family ? " 
 asked Zillah, whose interest had been greatly stimulated 
 by what she had seen and heard.
 
 AN AFTERNOON A T DEAN-HURST 1 33 
 
 "Oh," said Mrs. Parker, "my mother's family served 
 them for several generations, and these things were 
 handed down. When I was a girl of twelve or fourteen, 
 I came here once with my grandmother, who had in her 
 young days lived at Dean-Hurst many years ; and she 
 pointed out to me and explained the things I have told 
 you to-day, and I have never forgotten them. "When I 
 came to live with Mr. Scowcroft, I could recall every- 
 thing." 
 
 " How interesting ! " said Agatha ; and she made a 
 mental resolve, that this descendant of a race of ancient 
 retainers should become part of the reinstated household. 
 "Did we see I don't remember it if we did the 
 portrait of my great-great-grandfather, the one who lost 
 Dean-Hurst?" asked Zillah. 
 
 "I think I pointed it out," said Mrs. Parker; "but 
 we can call in the dining-room again, when we go down, 
 if you would like to see it." 
 
 "Only fancy," said Agatha, "this lovely young lady 
 being your great-great-grandmother, Zillah 1 " 
 
 The bedrooms were visited and inspected, and in one 
 of them, which was hung with tapestry, there was a very 
 handsome four-post bed even the back of it, as well as 
 the posts and cornice, was of black oak, elaborately 
 carved. " This is the only one of the Dean bedsteads 
 here," said Mrs. Parker. " My grandmother called it the 
 state bed ; the original hangings were velvet, she told 
 me ; and nearly all the Deans, she said, had been born 
 in it, died in it, and laid- out in it." 
 
 " I should expect to see a ghost if I slept in that bed," 
 said Zillah, laughing ; " though we've one at home that 
 used to be here, it is black oak too, and it is not 
 haunted that I know of."
 
 I 3 4 DEAN-HURST 
 
 "Both this room and the room over the library are 
 said to be haunted," said the housekeeper, "and the 
 corridor between." 
 
 " Oh, of course, there must be a family ghost in a place 
 like this," remarked Agatha ; " that goes without saying. 
 What's the story about it?" she asked. "Did your 
 grandmother tell you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Mrs. Parker; "it was a daughter of 
 the Dean you noticed so much, who eloped with someone 
 her father disapproved of. He found it out and pursued 
 them, and brought her back; and some say he nearly 
 killed her, others that he did kill her smothered her. 
 Perhaps she cried out a good deal, poor thing." 
 
 " And have you ever heard, or seen anything, Mrs. 
 Parker 1 " asked Joyce, in a low, awestricken tone. 
 
 " I've never seen anything ; but I've often heard what 
 sounded to be footsteps above my head, when I've been 
 in the library the room above was hers," said the house- 
 keeper. "And on wild nights," she went on, "I've heard 
 a wailing sound, like someone sobbing and crying in the 
 corridor; and it always seems to me as if this Cicely 
 Dean might have been to her father's room, trying to 
 move him to pity, and was coming back wailing and 
 crying, because he would not consent to her marriage." 
 
 " Or perhaps it was the wailing after she was brought 
 back," suggested Agatha. In her heart of hearts she 
 thought it was probably rats which scampered above the 
 library, and the wind which sobbed and wailed along 
 the corridor; but a family ghost was too respectable 
 a thing to possess, lightly to disturb it by any such 
 hypothesis. 
 
 "What a wicked, wicked man that third Bryan Dean 
 must have been ! " were words which sprang for utter-
 
 AN AFTERNOON A T DEAN-HURST 135 
 
 ance to Joyce's lips ; but they died away unspoken as 
 the remembrance once again came to her of Mrs. Dean's 
 eyes so like his. Another remembrance occured to her, 
 too ; something that Rebecca had said of Mrs. Dean that 
 Sunday night, in Absalom Eodley's cottage, namely, that 
 she would " nearly sell her soul " for the repossession of 
 Dean-Hurst. Would she ? Was she so eager for it 1 And 
 was that why she hated her, Joyce because she feared 
 she would come between her and her object? Following 
 this thought the first glimmer of light on the subject 
 came the recollection of many confirmatory circumstances. 
 Yes, it was so, she was convinced. 
 
 But Mrs. Dean need not fear her, need not hate her, 
 Joyce. She would never interfere ; never stand between 
 Bryan and his reinstatement in the home of his fathers ; 
 she loved him too well for that. She had made up her 
 mind before upon this point ; but the visit to-day had 
 strengthened her resolution a hundredfold. Bryan must 
 indeed marry Agatha Whaite, and make his home at 
 Dean-Hurst, and refound his family. 
 
 Mrs. Dean, as you will see, my reader, had had true 
 intuition when she decided to send Joyce Warwick to 
 Dean-Hurst. 
 
 The girls had another peep in the dining-room, that 
 they might distinguish the recreant Dean who had 
 squandered the estate, and who had also been the husband 
 of the girl they admired so much. They found him a 
 handsome, but somewhat debauched-looking individual, 
 about forty, with a weak mouth, and a much less decided 
 chin than had been possessed by the majority of the 
 Deans. 
 
 "They must have been a very handsome pair when 
 they were married," said Agatha.
 
 136 DEAN-HURST 
 
 " Yes ; it was a thousand pities he turned out to be so 
 reckless," said the housekeeper. 
 
 Agatha said nothing in response to this. But for that 
 man's recklessness she could never have hoped to stand 
 in the relationship to the De/ms in which she soon ex- 
 pected to stand. 
 
 It had turned half-past three, and was getting quite 
 dusk, when the girls left Dean-Hurst. The groom had 
 been dismissed, and they walked the short half-mile 
 which lay between it and Undercragg. 
 
 " I wonder if your brother will call to-day 1 " said 
 Agatha, as they stepped along the snow - sprinkled 
 road. 
 
 " I don't know, I'm sure," said Zillah. " He knew I 
 was coming to Undercragg. But, Agatha, he will be 
 astonished," she went on, " to hear where we have been 
 this afternoon ; I never told him." 
 
 " Why, how was that ? " asked Agatha, who had been 
 strongly tempted to include Bryan in the expedition. 
 
 " Oh," said Zillah, looking a trifle embarrassed, if the 
 other two could have seen her plainly, " I thought I 
 could tell him all about it afterwards, and astonish him 
 a little." 
 
 " But," said Agatha, " I should have thought you 
 would have been obliged to tell him, on account of your 
 former engagement." 
 
 There was a pause; then Zillah, being obliged in 
 common politeness to answer, said 
 
 "He knew nothing about that, either;" adding, with 
 assumed nonchalance, "I don't tell Bryan everything, 
 you know." 
 
 They were descending the steep lane now, leading to 
 the bridge across the stream ; and Joyce lagged behind a
 
 AN AFTERNOON A T DEAN-HURST 137 
 
 little. Here was another confirmation of what she had 
 thought. 
 
 Agatha pondered this matter too; anil the first little 
 seed of jealousy was sown in her heart. It was perfectly 
 plain that Mrs. Dean and Zillah wished to keep Joyce 
 out of Bryan's way. That being so, it argued some fear 
 of her influence, and if they had reason to fear, so had 
 she. Perhaps it was Joyce who was keeping Bryan back, 
 and not her Agatha's superior wealth, or dreadfully 
 humble origin. 
 
 But no, no ; she would not believe it. She would not 
 credit that anything could eventually prevent a man in 
 Bryan's position availing himself of such an opportunity 
 for reinstatement in such a place as Dean-Hurst. She 
 herself felt more bent upon it than ever, now she had 
 visited the place. She felt that even had she not loved 
 him, she could have married Bryan to have become 
 mistress there. She cast a backward glance at Joyce, 
 but could not clearly distinguish her face. " Surely," she 
 thought, " a little chit like this, just fresh from school, is 
 not going to spoil everything ! " 
 
 A couple of hours afterwards, the Higher Dean gig, 
 with Bryan Dean in it, and Sam, was approaching the 
 junction of the main road with the Lower Dean Lane, 
 when the latter, who to day was driving, asked, with a 
 jerk of his thumb towards the lane, whether he should 
 run down there. 
 
 " Miss Zillah's up at Undercragg," said Sam, " an' Miss 
 J'yce, fro' t' Chapel House, too." 
 
 Joyce Warwick at Undercragg ! Bryan could scarcely 
 believe his own ears.
 
 138 DEAN-HURST 
 
 "Aren't you mistaken, Sam?" he asked; "about Miss 
 Joyce, I mean," he added. 
 
 " No," said Sam, " I seed 'em go ; and I knows they 
 haven't come back. T' waggonette an' Miss Whaite come 
 for 'em, abeawt two o'clock." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Bryan. 
 
 He thought a moment, and then said 
 
 " You may turn down the lane, Sam."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 LOVE-MAKING 
 
 " There be none of beauty's daughters 
 
 With a magic like thee ; 
 And like music on the waters 
 Is thy sweet voice to me." Byron. 
 
 "Give unto me, made lowly wise, 
 The spirit of self-sacrifice." Wordsworth. 
 
 HAT evening, at Undercragg, after the visit 
 to Dean-Hurst, was far from being a cheer- 
 ful one to Agatha Whaite ; for even Bryan's 
 unexpected presence there was by no means 
 an unmixed pleasure, after she had heard 
 how it had come about. Also as she noted, with the 
 eyes of a newly-born jealousy, Bryan's manner in the 
 presence of Joyce Warwick. There was nothing in the 
 least demonstrative in it, nothing she could have de- 
 scribed or explained to anybody, but there was a certain 
 difference in his speech and bearing when addressing her, 
 which she could feel. It was the shy deference, the 
 tender reverence of manner which, had she but known it, 
 has but one source in the human heart the truest, 
 highest, strongest love. 
 
 139
 
 140 DEAN-HURST 
 
 Bryan, too, seemed by no means grateful for "the 
 pleasant surprise " Zillah had for him in the relation of 
 the girls' visit to Dean-Hurst. 
 
 " Why didn't you tell me you were going \ " he asked 
 her. " I could have told you of several things to specially 
 notice." 
 
 " Perhaps you would have gone with us ? " said Agatha. 
 "Mr. Scowcroft himself fixed Tuesday; but I daresay 
 another day would have done." 
 
 " Oh, I've been through several times in my life it is 
 not that, thank you, Miss Whaite ; only it seems so odd 
 of Zillah never to have spoken of your going." 
 
 Zillah pouted ; she was physically tired, and rather 
 cross. She didn't believe in bearing vicarious blame, 
 either ; but she was obliged to do so in this case, as she 
 dared not say that her silence had been imposed upon her 
 by her mother. 
 
 " I don't think you could have told us a thing more 
 than Mrs. Parker did," she said, a little viciously ; " she 
 seems to know everything about us Deans, good and 
 bad mostly bad." 
 
 There was a general laugh at this. 
 "There's that horrid man that mother thinks you are 
 rather like," went on Zillah. " I think he's gone worse- 
 looking on the very wall. And he was such a bad one, 
 that he has actually brought a ghost into the place." 
 
 "Well, somebody must have done it, of course," 
 remarked Bryan, with mock gravity. "An old place 
 like Dean-Hurst without its ghost would never do. I 
 shall be sorry if you ladies corroborate my mother's 
 opinion about the likeness, though; for, as far as my 
 memory serves me, a more villainous " 
 
 " It's not in the least bit like you," interrupted Agatha.
 
 LOVE-MAKING 141 
 
 "I think it is rather," said Zillah, with sisterly 
 candour ; " about the chin and nose especially." 
 
 "And what is your opinion, Miss Joyce?" There 
 was a decided inflection in Bryan's voice, though he still 
 wore the same air of mock gravity, increasing it even to 
 one of anxiety. " I hope, I do hope," he went on, " that 
 you are not going to add the eyes." 
 
 " God forbid ! " 
 
 The words startled even Joyce herself as they fell 
 from her lips " sprang " therefrom would be the better 
 term sprang involuntarily, but earnestly, forcefully. 
 Everybody turned to look at her, more or less astonished ; 
 and Joyce flushed crimson. For an instant no one spoke ; 
 then Bryan, whose pulses had quickened with pleasure, 
 said 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Joyce that is kind." 
 
 She lifted her eyes to his while he was speaking, and 
 again, as in Dean Head Chapel, an electric current of 
 sympathy flashed from the one to the other. 
 
 Agatha "VVhaite caught the look, and noted the quiver 
 and the fall of Joyce's eyelids. From that moment her 
 hopes received a check. Well might Mrs. Dean scheme 
 to keep Bryan and Joyce apart! She was indeed the 
 stumblingblock in the way, there could no longer be 
 any doubt. 
 
 Agatha offered no opposition, therefore, or a very faint 
 protest indeed, to Zillah's insistance on leaving early. 
 She had promised her mother, she said, to be home by 
 nine o'clock. 
 
 "But that was before she knew you would have an 
 escort," said Agatha. 
 
 "All the same, we had better go," answered Zillah 
 decidedly ; she knew well the state of mind her mother
 
 142 DEAN-HURST 
 
 would be in, knowing that Bryan and Joyce were 
 together at Undercragg. And in her heart of hearts 
 Agatha thought they had, and made no further attempt 
 to detain them. 
 
 A slight frost had set in, and the thin layer of snow 
 on the ground and shrubs glistened in the light of the 
 silver crescent just seen above the hill behind, as the 
 three guests left Undercragg. The drive, as I have said 
 before, was necessarily steep, and the frost and snow 
 rendered it slippery. Bryan at once, therefore, offered an 
 arm each for the assistance of the two girls. It was the 
 first time that Joyce had walked arm-in-arm with Bryan. 
 They had little to say to each other, except a word or 
 two upon the beauty of the winter's night. Like fairy- 
 land were Mr. Whaite's grounds each branch and twig 
 and leaf of twinkling silver. Zillah, from her concern 
 at the miscarriage of her mother's plans, was rather silent 
 too. But, as it chanced, if there be such a thing as 
 chance, the three were not together long ; for just as they 
 turned out of the Lower Dean Lane, someone was pass- 
 ing it on the highroad someone who paused, and 
 hailed them in a familiar voice, that of George Farrar. 
 He was walking home from Beck Foot Station. 
 
 " Now, this is good luck," he said, with an admiring 
 glance at Zillah, as he shook hands. 
 
 "You speak for yourself, of course," said that young 
 lady, with a toss of her head. " We may look upon it 
 differently." 
 
 " Oh," said Mr. George, " if that be it, I can walk on. 
 Good-night all," and he took a few steps forward, alone. 
 
 "Come back, George; I thought you knew Zillah's 
 bark by this time," called out Bryan, laughing. 
 
 The young man did not come back ; but, with a laugh,
 
 LOVE-MAKING 143 
 
 he waited until the others came up to him. And, by and 
 by, he and Zillah, who had not again taken her brother's 
 arm, dropped behind, and, walking more and more slowly, 
 were afterwards mostly out of sight owing to the turns 
 in the road. 
 
 Joyce had also withdrawn her arm to shake hands with 
 George Farrar, and had been walking independently ; but 
 now a steep, slippery bit of road made walking difficult, 
 and Bryan again offered his assistance. Joyce timidly 
 placed her right hand a very little way on Bryan's left 
 arm. Instinctively, Bryan's right hand was stretched 
 out to draw it forward, and place it more firmly; and 
 somehow, having once gained possession of it, he could not 
 let ii go. The action was entirely unpremeditated the 
 touch of Joyce's fingers was electrical feeling came with 
 a rush, and carried him out of himself. 
 
 But Joyce was frightened at the unexpected grasp, and 
 the trembling of the hand which held hers frightened 
 lest she should lose command of herself. She tried to 
 withdraw her hand; but Bryan's grip tightened. 
 
 " Miss Joyce ' Joyce ' may I not call you," he began, 
 " I am afraid I may vex you by my sudden action but 
 I cannot help myself. The impulse to speak has come, 
 and I must obey it." 
 
 Bryan bent his head, and tried to look in Joyce's eyes, 
 but they were veiled. 
 
 " I may be too late I thought I was too late until 
 to-night when when what you said about that portrait 
 gave me hope. It seemed as if you cared, by the way in 
 which you spoke. Your ' God forbid ! ' has been ringing 
 in my ears ever since." 
 
 Bryan felt that a shiver passed through Joyce when 
 he mentioned the portrait.
 
 144 DEAN-HURST 
 
 "Still," he went on, "I had no thought of speaking 
 to you to-night but I could not be near to you so 
 near to you, without feeling and knowing that you are 
 all the world to me, Joyce and what is in my heart 
 will have way. Say, darling, is there any hope for me 1 " 
 
 No music was ever sweeter to human ear than were 
 these words of love to Joyce's heart. But she must turn 
 a deaf ear to their sweetness. For Bryan's own sake, 
 she must crush down, stifle, stamp out her own feelings ; 
 and by refusing to fan his with hope, lead to the like 
 stamping out on his part. 
 
 Agatha Whaite loved him that she had certainly 
 found out. "Love begets love"; and in time, Bryan's 
 heart, with nothing from her of hope and encouragement 
 whereupon it could feed, would turn to Agatha. "With 
 Agatha and her large fortune, Bryan could win back his 
 old home, refound his family, and take his proper place 
 in society. And from some remote corner, some secluded 
 nook in the world, she, Joyce, could look out upon his 
 prosperity see him on the magistrates' bench see him 
 in Parliament see him possibly in the Cabinet and feel 
 that, by her own act of self-denial, she had had some 
 little part in his elevation. She could not stretch out 
 her hand to raise him, as Agatha could ; but she could 
 stand aside, and let another do it. She would never, 
 never be a stumblingblock in his way. 
 
 But oh ! the bitter pain, the anguish of heart, which 
 Joyce suffered, as she flung from her the sweet draught 
 of love held to her lips. With her heart full to the 
 brim of a responsive passion, it required all the resolution 
 of her young, generous nature to do it. 
 
 Bryan held her tightly, and was looking down at her, 
 waiting, with trembling, for her answer. Somehow, not-
 
 LOVE-MAKING 145 
 
 withstanding what he had heard about Robert Kobson, 
 he could not help cherishing a feeling of hope. 
 
 Joyce twice essayed to speak, but in vain. The third 
 time, words came spasmodically, painfully. "No," she 
 said, "no I I cannot bid you hope; I am very 
 sorry but you must not." 
 
 " Joyce ! " came from the young man's lips re- 
 proachfully. " I thought you did care a little." 
 
 "Oh, yes yes," was wrung from Joyce, in spite of 
 herself "a little. I like you as a friend," she went 
 on, as a kind of cover ; " but I cannot marry you. One 
 must," she said, almost hysterically, "have a great deal 
 of love for a man to marry him." 
 
 "I see how it is," said Bryan bitterly. "Someone 
 has stolen your heart from me while I have been been 
 acting the fool ! " He certainly ended the sentence differ- 
 ently from his original intention; but its meaning was 
 the same. And Joyce knew perfectly what he did mean ; 
 and it helped her. Even, if he allowed his love to carry 
 him away now, and she allowed herself to accept him, 
 there might come a time, she reflected, when he would 
 repent and regret what he had given up for her sake. 
 But he should never, never run the risk. She made no 
 reply to this assertion ; and her silence seemed to give 
 consent to it. 
 
 " I would have waited I could have waited any length 
 of time, with a grain of hope," said poor Bryan, by and 
 by; "but without it, life seems nothing but a blank." 
 He had released Joyce's hand now, and it only barely 
 touched his arm ; but he felt a quiver in it as he thus 
 spoke. 
 
 Did he love her so much, Joyce was asking herself, 
 that all he could otherwise possess still left only a blank ? 
 
 10
 
 146 DEAN-HURST 
 
 He thought so now. He was sincere, perfectly sincere, 
 no doubt; but a year hence, a few months hence, he 
 would think and feel differently. 
 
 " I am very sorry," again she murmured ; but that was 
 all. Even then, perhaps the hardest moment of all, when 
 Bryan's sufferings, as well as her own, were patent to her, 
 Joyce remained steadfast in her resolution, mistaken or 
 otherwise, of self-sacrifice. 
 
 They walked drearily, silently along after that for two 
 or three minutes, and were both glad when a call from 
 behind stopped them. They had been walking very 
 slowly, but the other two still more so ; until all at once, 
 after a loving squabble or two with George Farrar, Zillah 
 had been somehow recalled to a sense of her duty as 
 sentinel, and had requested George to shout to Bryan and 
 Joyce to stop. 
 
 " I don't see why," said George ; "let them go on." 
 
 " But we shall be at our gate directly," said Zillah ; 
 " and I think would you mind, George seeing Joyce 
 home ; you have to go half-way, you know and it would 
 save Bryan's going." 
 
 " It strikes me, he won't want to be saved going," said 
 George, who had his wits about him. "I rather think 
 it's just as well that Robert Robson is nowhere about." 
 
 "Why?" said Zillah; "Joyce denies that there is 
 anything in that." 
 
 " Well, I cannot be sure about her ; but there certainly 
 is on his side," said George. 
 
 " And as for Bryan," went on Zillah, with some hesi- 
 tation ; " he is he will be he is next door to being 
 engaged to Agatha Whaite." 
 
 George Farrar emitted a long-drawn " oh ! " 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " asked Zillah crossly.
 
 LOVE-MAKING 147 
 
 " Lucky fellow ! Good-looking wife, and thousands 
 upon thousands ! He's to be envied that's what I mean 
 by ' oh ! '" 
 
 " Very well," said Zillah, withdrawing her hand from 
 her lover's arm he was her lover ; though they were not 
 actually engaged, there was a kind of understanding 
 between them " very well go and find another like her 
 you are quite at liberty, and there are more." 
 
 " I will begin to look about," said George. " Can you 
 think of one you can recommend, Zillah ? " 
 
 "Well," said Zillah, "you don't deserve any help from 
 me but there's Miss Walsden, for instance." 
 
 A longer-drawn " oh " than the first. 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " asked Zillah, as before. 
 
 " Well I mean by that," said George, " Miss W. is 
 not fair not fat but forty and I respectfully decline." 
 
 Two more heiresses, still more ancient, were mentioned 
 by Zillah as likely for George's wooing ; but their names 
 were received in the same manner, and their persons 
 criticised as severely. 
 
 "Then you must choose a wife for yourself," said 
 Zillah, with a pout. 
 
 " I decline to do that also," said George. 
 
 " Well you are a " began Zillah. 
 
 " I decline for a very good reason," interrupted George ; 
 " because I have already chosen you know I have you 
 little minx ! " and he repossessed himself of Zillah's hand, 
 given with apparent reluctance, but real delight. 
 
 A few blissful minutes, and then Zillah's conscience 
 smote her again. 
 
 " But really, George, you must call out, or I must or 
 they'll be going past Higher Dean. And I do want 
 you to see Joyce home to-night. And you are not to
 
 148 DEAN-HURST 
 
 say one word to anybody mind that about Bryan and 
 Agatha Whaite because it is not quite settled and it 
 would be so very, very awkward, if" 
 
 "If there should be a slip betwixt the cup and the 
 lip," finished George for her, adding, "but surely, with 
 such a cup, Bryan will be careful of any slip." 
 
 " Well," said Zillah, partly letting the cat out of the 
 bag, "you can help him to be careful by " 
 
 A long, low whistle showed George Farrar's compre- 
 hension of the situation, without another word from 
 Zillah, and he immediately sent up the valley road a loud 
 " Hullo ! " 
 
 They were almost close to Higher Dean Cottage, when 
 the two couples again joined, Zillah professing to 
 grumble at the speed at which Joyce and Bryan had been 
 walking. 
 
 " There is no keeping up with you," she said. 
 
 " You have tried very hard, of course," said Bryan ; 
 whereupon all four laughed two of them, Bryan himself 
 and Joyce, very constrainedly : they were in no laughing 
 mood. 
 
 "When they reached the gable of the cottage, they all 
 came to a stand, and Zillah inflicted a slight pinch on 
 George Farrar's arm, to remind him of his duty, where- 
 upon 
 
 " It is of no use your going any farther, Bryan," said 
 that young man obediently; "I can see Miss Joyce 
 home I have quite half-way to go, you know." 
 
 If Bryan Dean had received a different answer to his 
 question if his sudden wooing had sped he would have 
 felt strongly inclined to kick George Farrar for what he 
 would have considered his impertinence. As it was he 
 felt grateful to him. There seemed nothing more to be
 
 LO VE-MAKING 1 49 
 
 said between himself and Joyce, and he wanted to be 
 alone with his misery. He raised a slight opposition, of 
 course ; but Joyce herself overruled it. If Mr. George 
 did not mind that would be best. Indeed, she did not 
 think she should be afraid to go on alone, beyond Edge 
 Lane, where he would have to turn to go home. It was 
 not at all a dark night, etc., etc. 
 
 Spite of what had passed, the hands of Joyce and 
 Bryan instinctively lingered in one another as they bade 
 each other " Good-night." Bryan thought it was Joyce's 
 sympathy for him which made hers linger and tremble; 
 and he pressed it hard, in a paroxysm of gratitude, and 
 grief, and love. 
 
 As Joyce and George Farrar passed up the valley road, 
 the crescent moon no longer rested on the hilltop, but 
 like a silver boat full-launched in the sea of blue above, 
 seemed as if making for one of the groups of silver islets 
 forming the constellations. They were out in splendid 
 form to-night Taurus, with the Pleiades; the Plough, 
 with its glistening arched handle; Orion, with his belt 
 and sword of clustered gems. They had been visible 
 before ; but Joyce had not seen them neither had 
 George Farrar. Now their eyes were set at liberty as it 
 were, and the glories of the heavens were revealed to 
 them. Joyce looked up from the very necessity of the 
 case she felt that she must rouse herself ; it would 
 never do to walk, a mute, by George Farrar's side, 
 though she had just passed through a crisis in her life a 
 crisis leaving her crushed and wounded, and maimed for 
 the whole natural term of it, as it seemed to her. She 
 looked up, as I have said, casting about in her distracted 
 mind for something to say, and became all at once aware 
 of the splendour of the night.
 
 ISO DEAN-HURST 
 
 Astronomy was one of her father's favourite studies, 
 and he had early pointed out to his children the most 
 interesting phenomena of the heavens. Never had Joyce 
 been so grateful to him for this as she was at that moment. 
 
 "Oh, look at Orion ! Isn't he splendid to-night?" she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 Now, George Farrar knew as little about the stars as 
 he knew much about cotton. Beyond the fact that they 
 differed in size, and that there was such a thing as the 
 Milky Way, he was in almost profound ignorance. His 
 answer, therefore, to Joyce's exclamation, was an eager 
 wondering 
 
 " Where, Miss Joyce where is he ? " 
 
 The storehouse of laughter lies very near to the 
 fountain of tears, and Joyce could not help laughing as 
 she pointed out the constellation. She drew his atten- 
 tion to others ; keeping back thereby hiding, as it were 
 in the depths of the starry space the huge black burden 
 of her trouble. And thus she gained the Manse, with- 
 out her companion guessing that she was almost wild 
 with suppressed grief. ^ 
 
 Never, in after-life, was there a crescent moon and the 
 firmament brilliant with constellations, without their 
 bringing to remembrance that miserable night. 
 
 But she dared not trust her further self-command. 
 Saying that she did not feel quite well and was tired, she 
 bade everybody " Good-night," and went to her room at 
 once. 
 
 She flung herself by her bedside when she reached it. 
 The moment had come when agony could no longer be 
 controlled, or kept at arm's length. In its terrible 
 strength it held her in its grip ; and the bitter cry was 
 wrung from her
 
 LOVE-MAKING 151 
 
 " Oh, my God, my God ! How shall I ever live my 
 life without him 1 " 
 
 When Bryan and Zillah reached the gate of Higher 
 Dean Cottage, they met their mother face to face; she 
 was in the act of unlatching it. 
 
 " I thought I heard voices," she said. 
 
 " Yes," said Zillah, after giving Bryan time to speak, 
 of which opportunity he did not, however, avail himself ; 
 " we met with George Farrar, and he and Joyce have just 
 gone on. He is going to see her home."
 
 152 DEAN-HURST 
 
 The contretemps which had overtaken her plans for 
 the day had cost Mrs. Dean a very wretched evening. 
 When Sam had made his appearance at Higher Dean 
 without his master she had seen him pass to the yard 
 she guessed at once what had happened : Bryan had 
 gone to Undercragg. But whether it were a good omen 
 or a bad one would depend upon what had led him 
 thither ; and this she had deputed Eebecca to ascertain. 
 
 "T' maister's gwon to t' Undercragg," said Sam, in 
 answer to Eebecca's query as to his whereabouts. 
 
 " Why, I didn't think he knew as Miss Zillah was 
 there," said Kebecca tentatively. 
 
 " Well but I towld him," said Sam, with a grin, as 
 if pleased at his own cleverness in thinking of it, "I 
 towld him as I'd seed Miss Zillah an' Miss J'yce fro' t' 
 Chapel House, settin' off wi' Miss Whaite." 
 
 "Tha did, did tha?" said Kebecca, feeling very much 
 inclined to box Sam's ears. 
 
 "Eea," said Sam, with another grin, and walking off 
 with Boxer into his stable. He had been busy unbuck- 
 ling straps as he talked. 
 
 The moment Mrs. Dean saw Kebecca's face, her worst 
 fears were confirmed it was all puckered with concern 
 and vexation. Also, she was nodding her head in the 
 manner habitual to her when anything went wrong. 
 
 " Well," queried Mrs. Dean laconically. 
 
 "T' young jack-a-napes towld him everything" said 
 Rebecca. 
 
 Mrs. Dean uttered an impatient, troubled exclamation. 
 
 "I wish t' masther would make up his mind," said 
 Rebecca sympathetically. 
 
 "It's all Joyce Warwick's doings all," said Mrs. 
 Dean gloomily, and almost viciously. " He would have
 
 LO VE-MAKING 1 53 
 
 been engaged to Miss Whaite, this minute, but for 
 her." 
 
 " Ay it's a bad job," said Kebecca. 
 
 "She'll just ruin everything, I'm afraid, in spite of us, 
 though I have thought lately that Mr. Bryan was 
 getting to see more with me," said Mrs. Dean ; adding, 
 " It's all her doings. Her coming home just at this 
 juncture has been a great misfortune." 
 
 Mrs. Dean spoke vehemently; and there shone from 
 her eyes the same look of hatred and malignity which, in 
 those of her ancestor of long ago, had made Joyce 
 Warwick shudder more than once that day. 
 
 " I think I should have a bit o' talk wi' him again, if 
 I was yo', misthress," said Rebecca. 
 
 " I'm afraid of doing more harm than good," said Mrs. 
 Dean. " Bryan has a will of his own." 
 
 " He wouldn't be a Dean if he hadn't," said Eebecca, 
 with a funny, cackling laugh. And there the discussion 
 had ended. 
 
 But, as I have already said, Mrs. Dean had spent a 
 miserable evening ; and she had fully made up her mind 
 that she would again speak to her son on the subject of 
 Agatha Whaite. When, however, Bryan and Zillah 
 made their appearance, and she understood that the 
 former had allowed George Farrar to escort Joyce home, 
 her fears were not only allayed, but, by force of reaction, 
 her hopes received an impetus, and reached a point they 
 had never reached before. Bryan must have made up 
 his mind to marry Agatha, or he would never have left 
 Joyce, short of the Chapel House. 
 
 The light burnt low in the lamp, and she could not see 
 into the recess where Bryan seated himself, and note the 
 misery in his eyes. He often went early to bed on
 
 154 DEAN-HURST 
 
 market-days, unless he had called at Undercragg; and 
 she was not surprised, therefore, that he very shortly 
 announced his intention of doing so, and that he wanted 
 no supper. 
 
 When he had retired, Mrs. Dean questioned Zillah 
 upon matters ; but she too was tired and sleepy, and not 
 much could be got out of her. She did not forget, 
 however, to take credit to herself for her foresight about 
 the seeing Joyce home. 
 
 " And Bryan didn't seem to object \ " asked Mrs. Dean 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Very little," said Zillah. "I was surprised how 
 little." 
 
 " I believe I do believe," said Mrs. Dean to herself 
 jubilantly, " that Bryan is coming to his senses at last."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 A CRISIS 
 
 " Tis one thing to be tempted, 'tis another to fall." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 "On life's vast ocean diversely we sail, 
 Reason the card, but passion is the gale. 
 
 And hence one master passion in the breast, 
 
 Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest." Pope. 
 
 HERE was a considerable difference of 
 opinion prevailing amongst the deacons and 
 congregation of Dean Head Chapel as to the 
 course to be pursued in the present crisis of 
 their affairs. Some, mostly the elder amongst 
 them, were so rooted to the spot that they were prepared 
 to accede to any demands, however unreasonable, on the 
 part of the ground landlord. Others, mostly the middle- 
 aged, were almost equally desirous of retaining the chapel, 
 but decidedly objected to these demands, and could not 
 believe they would continue to be made, if they held out 
 against them. While still others, mostly the youngest 
 of the people, considered that now was the time to make 
 a change : to leave the old place, to build somewhere in 
 
 155
 
 156 DEAN-HURST 
 
 the valley nearer the population make a fresh start, in 
 fact. There were so many conflicting opinions, indeed, 
 that it seemed impossible to arrive at a conclusion. But 
 at a meeting of the deacons, the pastor, Mr. Warwick, 
 had laid before them the plan for the present, suggested 
 by Bryan Dean ; it had been thoughtfully discussed, and 
 finally Bryan's offer of his warehouse at Higher Dean 
 Mill had been accepted, with, of course, the usual " vote 
 of thanks." 
 
 The Sunday after the visit to Dean-Hurst, of which 
 we have spoken in the preceding chapter, was the last 
 on which, unless they and Captain Crimsworth could 
 come to terms, the Church at Dean Head would ever 
 assemble there. It was a solemn and impressive time, 
 and the majority of the congregation looked precisely as 
 if they were attending a funeral. Two or three old 
 women had very red eyes, their mouths worked nervously, 
 and from time to time they were obliged to use their 
 pocket-handkerchiefs. Some of the old men even gave 
 stolen dabs, when they thought no one was looking. 
 And from both men and women might be heard to 
 proceed sniffs of divers lengths. Mrs. Eodley's ear- 
 trumpet shook in her hand, and she was kept uncommonly 
 busy, poor soul, between the manipulation of that instru- 
 ment and her purple-spotted pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 It was a bitterly cold day, with frozen snow on the 
 ground, and Absalom with a very red nose, the result of 
 combined frost and feeling, peregrinated between the 
 chapel and the schoolhouse, where he had to keep up 
 good fires, considerably oftener than was his wont, 
 "lettin' in sich draughts o' cold air," as somebody 
 grumbled afterwards, every time he softly opened the 
 vestry door.
 
 A CRISIS 157 
 
 During the preceding week, Absalom Eodley and his 
 wife Marinda had left the cottage, temporarily, at any- 
 rate, where they had dwelt in peace so many years, for 
 the land on which it stood was in the old lease. It had 
 indeed, with an additional room, since used as a vestry, 
 originally been the minister's house. Until matters were 
 finally settled, room for Absalom's "bits o' things" 
 (furniture) had been found in the Manse, and he and 
 his wife had gone to lodge with a relative in Beck Dean. 
 It was a terrible trial and upset for the pair, and they 
 both felt and spoke of " waves and billows " going over 
 their heads. Joyce "Warwick, who had her own private 
 " waves and billows," of which she could not speak, was 
 full of sympathy for the old chapel-keeper and his wife, 
 and had been very helpful to them during their removal. 
 She, herself, had carefully carried the old clock into the 
 Manse, where it now lay on a box in the attic, the old 
 man and woman executing their manoeuvres, if they 
 moved at all, on their backs. She had helped to pack 
 Mrs. Kodley's precious set of china, with its huge tea-pot 
 and slop-bowl the latter big enough for a christening- 
 font. She had taken down, and transferred to the 
 Manse, the brass candlesticks, the fruit-sellers, and the 
 trays from the mantelshelf, and rendered divers other 
 little services, besides speaking words of encouragement 
 and comfort, from time to time, down Mrs. Rodley's ear- 
 trumpet. And in thus ministering to others and in daily 
 duty, teaching Jack and Jill, Joyce Warwick had found 
 the best antidote for her own trouble a trouble she often 
 felt greater than she could bear. 
 
 Joyce was at chapel this memorable Sunday morning, 
 but she sat where her eyes could not rest on Bryan 
 Dean ; and he, on his side, only saw Joyce's profile, with
 
 158 DEAN-HURST 
 
 its pretty ear, and little rings of shining hair above. 
 They were both profoundly miserable ; but both con- 
 scientiously strove to ignore personal feeling, and enter 
 into the spirit of the service, and worship God in this 
 temple of His, where possibly they might never worship 
 again. Mr. Warwick preached a very solemn sermon, 
 suited to the occasion, and making reference to the 
 numbers who must have come into that earthly temple, 
 and gone from it to the Temple " not made with hands, 
 eternal in the heavens," during the century of its 
 existence, pointing out that even if its mission as a 
 building was over, Dean Head Chapel had done good and 
 noble service. And if the temple had gone, the Church 
 remained " the Church whose members ought, each one, 
 to be a temple of the Holy Spirit of Christ." 
 
 Everything is comparative, everything has a worth and 
 an attraction extraneous to its mere appearance, every- 
 thing has a sentimental value, whose current coin is 
 generally tender association ; and plain and unattractive, 
 almost ugly as it was, the people who joined in the 
 concluding hymn of that morning's service thought of 
 no other building than Dean Head Chapel as they sang, 
 some of them with tears 
 
 "Lord of the worlds above ! 
 
 How pleasant and how fair 
 The dwellings of Thy love, 
 
 Thine earthly temples are ; 
 To Thine abode my heart aspires, 
 With warm desires to see my God." 
 
 There were those who could not join in the singing 
 because their hearts were too full. 
 
 " I was as near choked as I could be," said old Ezra 
 Whixley, the thin, delicate, narrow-chested weaver, 
 
 "X
 
 A CRISIS 159 
 
 afterwards. Utterly unfit as he was, he had braved the 
 snow and frost, and the bitter wind, and dragged himself 
 across Cowley Common that morning, for love of this 
 " earthly temple." 
 
 When the service was over, there was quite a stream 
 of folks crossing the white, slippery graveyard to the 
 schoolhouse, nearly all the congregation having brought 
 dinner with them including the chapel-keeper and his 
 wife, the latter of whom cast a tearful glance at her 
 bare, curtainless windows, as she passed her vacated 
 home. 
 
 Higher Dean Cottage was locked up, and all the family 
 therefrom, including Rebecca, made their way with the 
 rest into the schoolroom. Mrs. Dean had had many pros 
 and cons in her mind as to this step. What would be 
 best to do, she hardly knew. Or rather she did know 
 that but personal inclination and policy ran counter to 
 each other. Though her hopes were certainly higher 
 than they had ever been since Joyce's appearance on 
 the scene, she still considered that she was bound to 
 exercise vigilance. 
 
 Especially was this so, as no opportunity had since 
 been afforded Bryan of following up the course she 
 hoped and believed he had now marked out for himself. 
 Either from exposure in the waggonette, or from the cold 
 of the old, unused rooms in Dean- Hurst, Agatha Whaite 
 had, on the day of the visit there, taken a severe chill, 
 and was now confined to her bed with a feverish cold and 
 quinsy. Bryan had been particularly quiet, and had 
 seemed much depressed during the week ; and Mrs. Dean 
 tried to hope that it was from anxiety on Agatha's 
 account. But possibly, she also told herself, his depres- 
 sion might arise from the resolution he had formed. She
 
 160 DEAN-HURST 
 
 felt instinctively that it must have been made at some 
 cost. In any case, she dared not broach the matter, or 
 question Bryan. There were times when her son's 
 reserve was of a character that even she could not 
 encroach upon, or essay to penetrate, and such had been 
 his mood since Tuesday. 
 
 Personally, she would have preferred remaining at 
 home to-day ; for the afternoon service was not to be of 
 the ordinary character. Instead of the usual reading of 
 " lessons " and a sermon, there was to be a sort of 
 experience meeting, to be followed by the administration 
 of the Sacrament. 
 
 Member of the Church as she had been from her 
 girlhood's days, Mrs. Dean was one of the many who, it 
 is to be feared, have let " the cares of this world, and the 
 deceitfulness of riches " in her case, the pursuit and 
 prospect of the latter " choke the Word." She had 
 become " unfruitful," and she knew it, and seldom indeed, 
 of late years, had she formed one of the number who, 
 from time to time, gathered around "The Lord's Table." 
 And special occasion as this was, she would have evaded 
 it, had it not been for other and worldly considerations. 
 
 A strong aroma of coffee, mingled with the fainter 
 odour of tea, greeted the nostrils on entrance into the 
 schoolroom ; also a sound of many voices met the ear. 
 
 Mrs. Dean was told several times what a stranger she 
 was there ; with the addendum of some such remark as 
 
 "Yo' thought yo'd have just another look at t' old 
 spot, I reckon." 
 
 One of the deacons remarked, that it was a long time 
 since he had seen her at the Lord's Supper he hoped 
 she had stayed for that, etc., etc. 
 
 But to all remarks, Mrs. Dean answered nothing
 
 A CRISIS 161 
 
 simply meeting them with a cold, inscrutable smile, and 
 even that was discounted by a frown between her eyes. 
 
 Still, Mrs. Dean had reason to be very content, for no 
 word or smile, or look even, had been exchanged 
 between Bryan and Joyce, either inside the chapel or out 
 of that she felt certain, for she had kept careful watch. 
 And here was Bryan, safe by her side, not only whilst he 
 was eating his sandwiches, but afterwards, and making 
 no attempt to visit the Manse. 
 
 We have spoken of the afternoon gathering as being 
 an "experience meeting," but perhaps "reminiscence 
 meeting " would be the better term. 
 
 One and another told what he knew of the chapel 
 chiefly in connection with his own family. This man's 
 grandfather had been a "joined member" there, from his 
 youth up ; the other man's grandmother had joined the 
 Church " when Mr. Sawley was the minister " ; another 
 man's mother had " sat under " Mr. Clare for " fifty years." 
 " Mr. Sawley," said one, had given them " high doctrine " ; 
 " Mr. Caw ley," said another, had given it them " strong " ; 
 and Mr. Clare had been "very dry" so that we may 
 very well conclude, that somebody's " mother " must have 
 been a long-suffering woman. Some gave interesting 
 accounts of their own conversions at Dean Head, others 
 of that of their fathers or friends, while others, again, 
 touched upon their present spiritual state. And in this 
 way, and in singing, an hour and a half swiftly passed. 
 
 Then came the most impressive part of the service 
 when, in small companies, the members knelt round the 
 communion table, and partook together of the emblematic 
 bread and wine. The Deans, the "Warwicks, and the 
 Robsons happened to form part of the same relay, and by 
 pure accident, Robert Robson knelt by Joyce "Warwick's 
 
 ii
 
 1 62 DEAN-HURST 
 
 side. Bryan had his head bowed, and did not see this 
 until they were all about to rise ; but Mrs. Dean did, and 
 it gave her more joy, I fear, than did the service in which 
 she was engaged. 
 
 This circumstance seemed to confirm the rumour about 
 them ; Joyce's denial of its truth, of which she knew, 
 notwithstanding. 
 
 The last hymn that was sung was the one which is 
 always chosen when men and women are in specially 
 solemn mood, or in any extremity, so well does it express 
 the appeal of weakness to Strength, of evanescence to the 
 Enduring of humanity to the Godhead. Voices quavered 
 and choked, sobs broke in upon its harmonies ; but on it 
 rolled, the grand old hymn, probably sung amongst the 
 first in the building 
 
 " God ! our help in ages past, 
 Our hope for years to come, 
 Our shelter from the stormy blast, 
 And our eternal home." 
 
 A solemn benediction followed, and all streamed 
 silently out. There was no lingering in the chapel-yard 
 no one was in the mood for gossip ; it was, too, nearly 
 dark, four o'clock having struck ; so, at once into the 
 Manse, over the Common, down the lane the congre- 
 gation dispersed. 
 
 It was on the Thursday following that Zillah Dean, 
 having been to pay a visit to her sick friend, returned 
 with a piece of information of great importance indeed, 
 namely, that Mr. Whaite had become possessed of Dean- 
 Hurst. 
 
 It had come about suddenly. Captain Crimsworth, 
 who was in great straits for money, had sold it to him for 
 an additional few hundreds to the amount of his mortgage.
 
 A CRISIS 163 
 
 " Agatha is in great glee about it," said Zillah ; " indeed, 
 it is she who has persuaded her father to buy it. I 
 believe it has done her far more good than the doctor's 
 medicine. I found her downstairs again." 
 
 Zillah had not gone by invitation to Undercragg ; and 
 Sam had driven her there and brought her back. 
 
 " Why didn't you stay, when you found Agatha 
 better 1 " asked politic Mrs. Dean the two were alone. 
 "Then, perhaps, Bryan would have fetched you." 
 
 " I don't think Agatha wanted me to particularly," 
 said Zillah. " She doesn't look quite herself yet ; and I 
 think she would rather Bryan didn't see her, till she does. 
 She kept saying to me, what 'a fright' she was." 
 
 "Oh, that's it, is itl" said Mrs. Dean, with a grim 
 smile. 
 
 " I believe so," said Zillah. " I have never heard her 
 say so much about her own looks before. I have always 
 thought she was very well satisfied with herself. But 
 do you know, mother I believe I feel sure she is 
 jealous of Joyce." 
 
 The smile on Mrs. Dean's face faded. 
 
 " Was there anything else to make you think so ? " she 
 inquired. 
 
 " Well," said Zillah, " she asked me if I saw a great deal 
 of her, and if she came much here, and things of that kind. 
 But it was her manner, when she spoke about her, more 
 than anything, which made me think she was jealous." 
 
 " I've been afraid of doing mischief but I must speak 
 to Bryan again. I think he has given Joyce up he 
 never even spoke to her on Sunday ; but I shall tell him 
 that he must really come to the point with Agatha. 
 Don't say anything at tea-time of this news. I will tell 
 him myself afterwards, and have a serious talk with him."
 
 1 64 DEAN-HURST 
 
 But " the best laid schemes o' mice and men gang aft 
 a-gley," and Bryan, who was moody and distrait at tea, as 
 he had been mostly for more than a week past, 
 disappeared immediately after that meal, his mother 
 thought at first that he had merely gone back into the 
 office, and was not seen again until quite late, when he 
 came in wet through, and was obliged to go to bed at 
 once. He had had no special errand there, none at all 
 in fact, but he had been rambling over Hoyden Edge, 
 trying to walk off his restlessness and wretchedness, and 
 had been overtaken by heavy rain. Mrs. Dean carried 
 him up a cup of hot coffee, with the intention of broaching 
 the important subject with which she was bursting ; but 
 Bryan looked so tired and miserable that she dared not. 
 Hard as it was for her, she was compelled to come to the 
 conclusion that her talk with him must be deferred. 
 
 The following day Bryan went as usual to Baleborough 
 though he was scarcely fit to go, having evidently 
 taken cold from his wetting. On his return he drew his 
 chair up to the fire, a little larger one than usual, and 
 every few minutes he shivered. His mother watched 
 him with keen anxiety on several accounts. They were 
 alone together, for Zillah had gone to tea to Edge 
 House. 
 
 " They have brought the reading-desk and the 
 remainder of the forms down from Dean Head to-day, I 
 suppose ? " asked Bryan of Rebecca, when she brought in 
 the tea. 
 
 " Ay," she said, " Ambrose has been ' as busy as Trap's 
 wife,' all day, bringin' 'em, an' settin' 'em it's not long 
 sin' t' last lot came. An' Marinda's been helpin' him, an' 
 all" 
 
 " Poor Mrs, Rodley," said Bryan sympathetically. " I
 
 A CRISIS 165 
 
 daresay she feels it hard lines to be turned out of her 
 house." 
 
 " She does that," said Kebecca earnestly ; " sho's just 
 like a feesh out o' watter, off t' Dean Head." 
 
 "Well," said Bryan, "perhaps she'll get back again I 
 hope she will. At anyrate, she'll not be in suspense 
 long. I've heard to-day that Captain Crimsworth is 
 coming to his place for Christmas." 
 
 " The Lord be praised ! " exclaimed Rebecca, " and give 
 him a raisonable mind." 
 
 The table was cleared, the hearth swept, the light in 
 the lamp turned a little higher, it had been turned 
 down during tea, and Bryan, drawing near to the fire 
 again and taking up a book, began to read. Mrs. Dean 
 resumed her usual knitting-work, seated on the opposite 
 side of the hearth. She noted that her son got on very 
 poorly with his reading, and that occasionally he still 
 shivered and yawned. 
 
 "Bryan," she said anxiously, by and by, "you don't 
 seem a bit well." 
 
 "I don't feel very first-rate, mother," he said. "I 
 shall not be long out of bed." 
 
 This speech roused Mrs. Dean to a sense that time was 
 going, and she had her self-imposed task yet to do. She 
 shrank from it in an unaccountable manner. A hardly 
 recognised sense that she was about to throw the last die 
 was probably at the root of her reluctance. Still, it must 
 he done, and she would never have a more favourable 
 opportunity. 
 
 "Bryan," she began, as a leading question, screwing up 
 her courage, dropping her knitting on her lap, and gazing at 
 him earnestly, with her deep, dark, keen eyes, "who told you 
 that Captain Crimsworth was coming back at Christmas ? "
 
 1 66 DEAN-HURST 
 
 Bryan started slightly, and from over his book, which 
 he did not lower, answered laconically, to Mrs. Dean's 
 utter surprise 
 
 " Mr. Whaite." 
 
 " Mr. Whaite 1 " echoed his mother. 
 
 " Yes," said Bryan ; " we travelled from Baleborough 
 together." 
 
 Mrs. Dean caught her breath. There was a dead silence 
 not even a cinder fell to break it. But the hearts of 
 both beat rapidly within them each knew that a crisis 
 had arrived. 
 
 "Then," said Mrs. Dean breathlessly, at length, "he 
 would tell you something else." 
 
 " Yes," said Bryan, as calmly as he could, " the two 
 things are connected. Captain Cvimsworth could not 
 come home, it appears, until he had raised some money ; 
 and Mr. Whaite has found it for him but only on 
 condition that he should possess himself of Dean-Hurst." 
 
 "He told you that 1 ?" asked Mrs. Dean. Bryan knew more 
 than she did, it appeared possibly more than Agatha knew. 
 
 " Yes," said Bryan. He had dropped his book by this 
 time, and leaned well forward towards the fire; so that 
 his eyes were still hidden from his mother. 
 
 " Anything more ? " she asked. " Did he say anything 
 else 1 " In the eagerness of her manner as she put these 
 questions the nervous quivering of the hard mouth, 
 the quick, keen glance of the eyes, the hands knotted 
 together was betrayed her hunger for the answer her 
 anticipation of what it would be. 
 
 "Yes," said Bryan the words falling from his lips 
 reluctantly, as it were, and a great shiver passing through 
 his body; "Mr. Whaite told me that that he was going 
 to settle the Dean-Hurst estate on Agatha."
 
 A CRISIS 167 
 
 "At once now 1 ?" asked Mrs. Dean, scarcely able to 
 retain her seat in her excitement. 
 
 " At once as ' a deed of gift,' " responded Bryan, with 
 another shiver. 
 
 " At last ! At last ! Bryan ! " cried his mother, 
 dropping on the hearthrug at his feet, and clasping his 
 knees ; " that means that Dean-Hurst is ours yours ! 
 Mr. Whaite could only tell you all this with a purpose 
 you know what 1 " 
 
 Bryan had no negative for the latter part of this speech. 
 He had not told his mother of circumstances which could 
 leave no doubt on his own mind as to Mr. Whaite's 
 wishes in the matter. He had evidently fully adopted 
 those of his daughter ; and had told his story, with hints 
 broad enough to be apprehended by the densest brain and 
 the least conceited mind. He had also, beforehand, 
 secured a carriage for themselves, that their confidences 
 might not be interrupted. 
 
 But he Bryan had something positive to say with 
 regard to the former part of his mothers assertions 
 something which, he was conscious, would be terribly hard 
 for her to hear. He raised her tenderly, with an expostu- 
 latory exclamation, placed her again in her chair, and 
 stood before her like a culprit though it was his innate 
 manliness which had brought him, through strong 
 temptation, into his present position. 
 
 " I am very sorry very, very sorry, mother," he said, 
 " to disappoint you in this. But I am afraid we are as 
 far off as ever from the possession of Dean-Hurst for 
 I cannot marry Agatha Whaite." 
 
 A spasm, which made it look almost ghastly, crossed 
 Mrs. Dean's face, and her eyes seemed positively to blaze. 
 She tried to speak, but words would not come.
 
 i68 DEAN-HURST 
 
 Bryan felt deeply for her he moved to her side, and 
 placed his hand caressingly on her shoulder ; but she 
 shook him off fiercely. It was a bitter moment for the 
 young man ; but he stood his ground bravely. 
 
 " I have coveted Dean-Hurst," he said : " I want it 
 now, mother, myself, perhaps as much as you want it for 
 me. And it has cost me but no, I'll say nothing about 
 that " he was thinking of the love of Joyce " but I 
 will not forswear myself I will not sell my soul even 
 for Dean-Hurst. The bait has been a tempting one, and 
 has allured me for awhile, to my hurt ; but I have put 
 it aside now, thank God ! and for ever, I hope." 
 
 " What do you mean by forswearing yourself 1 " cried 
 Mrs. Dean passionately, by a great effort finding voice. 
 
 " Oh, mother, you surely know," said poor Bryan, 
 bowing his head on the back of her chair, and his voice 
 betraying his mental suffering. "I love one woman, to 
 the very depths of my soul ; and shall I go to another with 
 a lie on my lips, and ask her to be my wife 1 Never ! " 
 
 " It's Joyce it's Joyce Warwick who is at the bottom 
 of all this. I knew how it would be from the first." 
 
 These words were uttered in such thick, agitated tones, 
 that they were barely distinguishable ; but Bryan caught 
 their drift. 
 
 " Don't blame Joyce, mother," he said ; " she " But 
 he could not utter another word just then. He recovered 
 himself in a minute however, and went on to say 
 
 " If even I were heart-whole, I do not think Agatha 
 Whaite would ever win it, mother ; so be satisfied. And 
 if you will go on saving in the old way." 
 
 Mrs. Dean sprang to her feet and faced her son. She 
 was almost beside herself with disappointment and anger. 
 
 " And do you suppose," she burst out " do you
 
 169
 
 A CRISIS 171 
 
 imagine for a minute that Agatha Whaite would sell 
 Dean-Hurst to you, Bryan Dean? I tell you, you are 
 further from its possession than you have ever been in 
 your life. It will be for ever an impossibility to buy it. 
 If you had the money, twice-told, to lay at her feet, you 
 would not get it. Agatha Whaite wanted it, and wanted 
 it for you; but she expected to share it. She'll never 
 give it up, without herself with it, you may depend ! " 
 
 Mrs. Dean had found voice indeed now the words 
 seemed to fly from her lips, in her passion. 
 
 " I blame myself very much," said poor Bryan humbly, 
 "that I have ever raised your hopes at all in in that 
 direction, mother. I am very sorry if any attentions of 
 mine have misled Agatha Whaite. I don't think I have 
 gone very far " 
 
 " You have gone so far that you have no business " 
 
 " Bryan," she cried, with a wail in her voice, leaving 
 her sentence unfinished, "do consider what you are 
 doing ! You are throwing away your last chance and 
 and you are breaking my heart ! " 
 
 "Don't say that, mother," cried Bryan, shivering so 
 much that he shook the chair he leant upon. " I cannot 
 bear it ! " 
 
 " You don't care anything about your mother ! " she 
 continued, her passion blinding her to her son's condition. 
 " O Bryan, unsay what you have said. At anyrate, say 
 you will think further about it. You " 
 
 " Mother it is of no use I have made up my mind," 
 said Bryan. " Don't dissuade me don't try to dissuade 
 me from that which is right. What is right must be 
 best, even if we suffer for it." 
 
 He was afraid of himself and of his mother's pleadings. 
 As before, that day the temptation presented itself, that
 
 172 DEAN-HURST 
 
 since Joyce was lost to him, he might as well close in 
 with Mr. Whaite's offer, or what was practically such, 
 and make his mother happy. 
 
 " But, mother," he went on, breaking in upon another 
 passionate appeal, "I really must go to bed I don't 
 feel well. Perhaps you or Rebecca will bring me a hot 
 bottle my feet are cold;" and with a "Good-night," 
 Bryan almost staggered out of the room. 
 
 His mother sank into her chair, covered her face with 
 her hands, and moaned aloud. With the hope of her 
 life lost blotted out extinguished, as the sun of that 
 life's horizon, she indeed walked in darkness. 
 
 But what Mrs. Dean was most conscious of, both in 
 her dumb despair and the fierce fighting against fact, 
 which alternated in her breast, was a feeling of bitter, 
 malignant hatred of her who was, she considered, re- 
 sponsible for this miscarrying of her plans poor, unhappy 
 Joyce Warwick.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 A CATASTEOPHE 
 
 ' Ambition, like a torrent, ne'er looks back 
 
 Being both a rebel, 
 
 Unto the soul and reason, and enforceth 
 All laws, all conscience, treads upon religion, 
 And ofiereth violence to Nature's self. " Ben Jonson, 
 
 ' None have accused thee, 'tis thy conscience cries, 
 The witness in the soul that never dies." Mrs. Hale. 
 
 T was a bitterly cold morning the wind blow- 
 ing from the north, and thick clouds, 
 presumably charged with snow, hanging 
 over and touching Hawk's Moor which 
 dawned upon the inhabitants of Beck Dean 
 and neighbourhood the following Sunday. Many of the 
 people who would have long distances to go to service, on 
 looking out of their windows shook their heads, shrugged 
 their shoulders, and walked back to the fire ; and amongst 
 these were many Dean Head folk the Robsons (Joyce 
 had given Robert the cold shoulder), old Ezra Whixley, 
 the Farrars, except George, etc. It was far enough, in 
 all conscience, to the chapel, but fully a mile and a 
 quarter farther to Higher Dean Mill; and with snow 
 threatening to fall at any time, and the roads slippery, 
 
 173
 
 174 DEAN-HURST 
 
 and only for one service well it was "not worth while," 
 " it was risky," " it would be more sensible to read our 
 Bibles at home." 
 
 Of course for a few but they were comparatively 
 few Higher Dean was nearer. 
 
 At first, when she knew of it, Mrs. Dean had been very 
 angry with Bryan about his offer of the mill warehouse 
 for private reasons of her own, easily guessed ; but 
 since she had learnt that it was only proposed to hold one 
 service there in the mornings, and two or three small 
 cottage meetings, on the hillsides, in the afternoons or 
 evenings ; and that, consequently, there would be no 
 staying for dinner, with its attendant heating of water, 
 unwelcome visitors into her house, and possible oppor- 
 tunities for love-making she had become more reconciled 
 to the arrangement. And now that the time had come, 
 her mind was in too great a turmoil to care about the 
 matter in one way or another. She was as one vainly 
 beating against the bars of a prison-house her strong, 
 uncontrollable will fighting against circumstances the use- 
 lessness the impotency of it well-nigh maddening her. 
 
 Bryan himself was Tiors de combat, mind and body. 
 His loss of Joyce ; his loss practically of Dean Hurst, 
 since not attainable with honour and self-respect; his 
 conflict with his mother, and, added to all this, the severe 
 chill he had taken, had utterly prostrated him. On the 
 Saturday he had not been fit to leave his bed, and Sunday 
 morning found him in the same condition. He had given 
 directions that a good fire was to be lighted early in the 
 stove of the warehouse, and all made as comfortable as 
 possible; but he had not been able to see to anything 
 himself. He could hear from his room the pattering of 
 small feet on the pavement beyond the garden, when,
 
 A CATASTROPHE 175 
 
 soon after nine, the school children began to assemble 
 for an hour's teaching before service-time. Not many 
 came, however, owing to the distances they would have 
 to traverse, and the severe weather. In due time he 
 heard the elders pass, and wondered if Joyce were amongst 
 them, perhaps with Robert Eobson by her side, and 
 then he fell into a troubled, half-conscious doze, the 
 thought of Joyce ever present with him. 
 
 Meantime the congregation, including the children, 
 numbering, perhaps, some sixty, had assembled in the 
 warehouse. This building was beyond both the house 
 and the mill ; and the upper storey in which service was 
 being held, Avas approached by a wooden staircase outside 
 the building itself. This staircase was of comparatively 
 recent date, having taken the place of an old and much- 
 worn stone stairway inside the building. The latter had 
 been boarded over, but a trap-door had been placed, or 
 left in the floor, giving access to it, and it was sometimes 
 used as cellarage for odd things. 
 
 It is requisite to note these details, for the right under- 
 standing of what happened afterwards. There was another 
 door in the room besides that from the staircase ; it was 
 quite at the oppposite end, and communicated with what 
 was known as " the wool-chamber," which lay between 
 the warehouse and the mills. There was still a third 
 door, a larger one, in the right-hand wall on entering; 
 but this only opened into space, and was used for the 
 goods, which by means of a crane or teagle were raised 
 into it. To-day, of course, it was fast barred. A long 
 counter, partly laden with woollen " pieces," occupied a 
 good portion of the same wall ; and the left of the room 
 was also occupied with piles and bales of goods blankets, 
 flannels, kerseys, etc. etc. There were plain, .oblong
 
 176 DEAN-HURST 
 
 windows on both sides of the warehouse. In the middle 
 of the room, a long oblong had been cleared, and here 
 Absalom Rodley had ranged the forms. At the upper 
 end, in the left-hand corner, he had placed the school super- 
 intendent's desk, as a rostrum for Mr. Warwick. In the 
 right-hand corner was the door into the wool-chamber, of 
 which I have already spoken. In the midst of the oblong 
 space stood the stove, from which rose, in primitive 
 fashion, a long thick iron or tin pipe for the conveyance of 
 the smoke. Both stove and pipe were rusty-red in colour ; 
 and in the former burnt a hot, fierce fire, which warmed 
 those near it almost too well, but which failed to raise the 
 temperature of the room, generally, to quite a comfortable 
 degree. 
 
 Lack of space forbids my entering into many particulars 
 of this service. Suffice it to say, then, that hymns, 
 lessons, and sermon all indicated and interpreted the 
 mixed feelings of the men and women assembled there. 
 They began by singing 
 
 " Welcome, sweet day of rest" ; 
 
 but afterwards joined in the words of struggling belief, 
 buffeted by the waves of difficulty 
 
 " God moves in a mysterious way, 
 His wonders to perform " ; 
 
 and, later, exhorted each other to 
 
 " Commit thou all thy griefs 
 
 And ways into His hands, 
 To His sure truth and tender care, 
 Who earth and heaven commands." 
 
 And for one of the lessons Mr. Warwick read Psalm cxxi., 
 commencing : " I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, 
 from whence cometh my help."
 
 A CATASTROPHE 177 
 
 Joyce Warwick had hesitated greatly about coming to 
 the service at Higher Dean ; and only a sense of duty 
 had brought her there. She felt that her private sorrow 
 ought not to make her absent herself from the public 
 worship of God ; even though that sorrow would be accentu- 
 ated by her presence at that particular place of worship, 
 and her consequent contact with Bryan Dean. Another 
 reason for her decison lay in the fact that both her 
 mother and Maud declined going out, and that Jack and 
 Jill, on the other hand, insisted upon going to the service. 
 Held in a warehouse, it would be a new experience ; and 
 novelty is dear to the child-mind. 
 
 Joyce had therefore brought them there to the 
 Sunday school in the first instance ; and now sat with 
 Jill Jack was seated close by his father near to the 
 door of the wool-chamber. 
 
 It had been a relief to find that Bryan was not present, 
 though she was sorry to hear from Zillah that he was 
 ailing. She had exchanged no word with him since she 
 had refused his love ; and she felt afraid of herself, lest, 
 when she came to do so, she should betray, in broad day- 
 light, what night had helped her to conceal, namely, her 
 own feeling for him. She was thankful, therefore, that 
 the meeting was deferred, hoping that in time she would 
 be better able to undergo the ordeaL She felt wonder- 
 fully comforted too, as the service went on. She felt, to 
 a degree she never had done before, that she could 
 " Commit all her griefs and ways into His hands," who 
 was her loving Father, though there was, as there had 
 always been since that Thursday night, more than a 
 week ago, an undercurrent of doubt in her mind as to the 
 wisdom, and even the righteousness of the course she had 
 taken. She had led Bryan to believe that which was not 
 
 12
 
 178 DEAN-HURST 
 
 true. Had she been justified in doing it even for his 
 good his material prosperity 1 
 
 Just as Mr. Warwick began his sermon, a few of his 
 hearers, amongst them Joyce, fancied they noticed a smell 
 of burning, amongst the other smells in the room those 
 of wool, oil, and brimstone, the latter used in the stor- 
 ing of blankets. Some said, afterwards, that they detected 
 it even earlier, but they attributed it to the great heat of 
 the stove and stove-pipe. Also, no one liked to speak of 
 it, and thus interrupt the minister. He himself, as a few 
 persons are found to be, was almost destitute of the sense 
 of smell. 
 
 At length, however, a man who was sitting near Joyce 
 perceived smoke issuing from the top of the wool-chamber 
 door, and, senselessly enough, opened it. The room proved 
 to be full of dense smoke, which rolled into the ware- 
 house in a volume, and filled it almost in an instant. 
 And, worse than this, the draught made by the opened 
 door caused a tongue of fire instantaneously to leap up just 
 within, which so frightened the man, that he, momentarily 
 losing his presence of mind, and falling back from it, lost 
 his only chance of shutting the door again, at anyrate 
 he did not do it, and thus cutting off, for a short time 
 at anyrate, the choking smoke. The wool, indeed, had 
 hitherto done little more than smoulder ; now, however, 
 fanned by the air, it burst into flame in several places. 
 
 There was, as you may imagine, an instantaneous panic 
 amongst the people, who were, a moment before, sitting 
 peacefully listening to the minister's discourse. He had 
 been preaching about the mysteries of Providence, and 
 the need and privilege of the Christian to lean upon the 
 strong arm of God in all difficulty and danger ; and here, 
 in an instant, they found themselves in peril.
 
 A CATASTROPHE 179 
 
 There was plenty of time to escape from the fire, if 
 they could run the gauntlet of the smoke, the blinding, 
 suffocating smoke, but that confused everybody; and 
 the benches, placed with so much care by Absalom Rodley, 
 impeded their progress to the stair - head. Absalom 
 managed to get there, however, amongst the first, 
 Marinda had not come, and he busied himself helping 
 people down, and preventing a block, and consequent 
 catastrophe there. Others did the same, amongst them 
 George Farrar, who first of all saw to Zillah's safety. 
 
 Joyce Warwick, with a cry of dismay on seeing the 
 fire, seized Jill by the hand, and feeling half-suffocated, 
 tried to grope her way towards the door ; but someone or 
 more, rushing past, separated the two. 
 
 As it fortunately happened, the child Jill was almost 
 swept into the arms of her father, who was breathlessly 
 steering himself and Jack through the dense smoke. 
 But Joyce did not, could not see this. 
 
 " Jill ! Jill ! " she cried, in faint, choked accents the 
 result of smoke and fearful anguish. " Where are you ? 
 oh, where are you?" And she lingered and groped 
 about for her. The child did not hear ; neither did the 
 father, for they had hurried on. Also, there were other 
 anguished voices calling for loved ones. 
 
 But someone heard her one and the only one in the 
 wide world who hated Joyce, namely, Mrs. Dean. And 
 at the sound, Satan entered into her heart. 
 
 Evil thoughts had wholly possessed her before, making 
 her oblivious of outward things, or she would long since 
 herself, in all probability, have smelt the burning wool. 
 She had been sitting a little way behind Joyce, and was 
 now feeling her way, like the rest, to the head of the 
 stairs, when her foot touched the iron ring in the floor
 
 i8o DEAN-HURST 
 
 by means of which the trap-door opening on to the old 
 disused stone steps was raised. She knew well what lay 
 beneath, for the outer stairway replacing this had been 
 erected since her coming to Dean-Hurst. 
 
 The voice of Joyce, immediately behind, reached her 
 ears at the self-same moment. A temptation assailed her 
 sudden, swift, powerful, and, in her then frame of 
 mind, irresistible. 
 
 " Get rid of Joyce," whispered the enemy of her soul, 
 "and all may be well; for time works wonders. But 
 now or never ! " 
 
 Scarcely for a breath's space did Mrs. Dean parry with 
 the tempter. There was no time. " Now or never ! " 
 echoed through her soul. Her fatal ambition for herself 
 and Bryan, her iron will, her hatred of Joyce who had 
 crossed it, culminated ; and exerting all her strength for 
 the purpose, Mrs. Dean deliberately raised the trap-door, 
 leaving what in the smoke-laden atmosphere was undis- 
 tinguishable from the solid floor a yawning gulf almost 
 at Joyce's feet. She then went on herself ; but spent 
 with the exertion, for the door was heavy, choked with 
 the smoke, and with her heart beating wildly in conse- 
 quence of what she had done, she staggered against the 
 end wall. As she touched it, the sound of a falling body 
 and a smothered cry reached her. She had effected her 
 purpose. 
 
 Then the appalling thought struck her, that others 
 might fall down the breach. But she had no strength 
 left to go back and close down the door. Besides, that 
 would never do ;. that would disclose design, whereas now 
 it would be conjectured that someone had opened it with 
 an idea of escaping that way ; someone ignorant of the 
 fact that the doorway at the bottom had been built up.
 
 A CATASTROPHE 181 
 
 Mustering all her strength therefore, Mrs. Dean called 
 out to all and sundry not many now who might be 
 left in the room 
 
 " Creep on the floor, and keep to the right." 
 
 On all-fours, an extended hand would give warning of 
 
 danger, had been her quick thought. 
 
 But she had opened her ear to the voice of conscience 
 
 regarding the danger to others, and it began to speak in
 
 1 82 DEAN-HURST 
 
 tones of thunder about what she had done to Joyce 
 Warwick. Momentarily drowned by the force of the 
 temptation, that voice was relentless now, and spoke in 
 plain terms, and dubbed her " Murderer ! " And what 
 was this coming upon her, arresting her steps when she 
 should be seeking safety in flight? The exertion of 
 raising the heavy trap-door, the tumultuous beating of 
 her heart from the unwonted mental excitement, the 
 speaking in that awful atmosphere, were, combined, too 
 much for her. The room seemed to spin round, she 
 vainly tried to cling to the wall for support, she gasped 
 for breath, and sank in a heap on the floor in the angle 
 formed by the front and end wall of the warehouse. 
 And none but the great Being, whose law she had 
 broken, heard, as she fell, the cry wrung from her heart 
 and lips, in her remorse and mortal fear 
 " God be merciful to me, a sinner ! "
 
 CHAPTER XII. AND LAST 
 
 RESCUE 
 
 "An universal horror 
 Struck through my eyes and chill'd my very heart." Howe. 
 
 1 ' Say what is honour ? 'Tis the finest sense 
 
 Of justice, which the human mind can frame, 
 Interest, each lurking frailty, to disclaim, 
 And guard the way of life from all offence 
 Suffer'd or done." Wordsworth. 
 
 of her. 
 
 E left Bryan Dean in his bed, lying there ill 
 and dozing. From this condition he fell 
 into one of light slumber and dreaming. 
 While half-asleep he had been thinking of 
 Joyce Warwick, and now his dreams were 
 She seemed to be always threatened with some 
 danger ; now it was storm and tempest, then it was flood, 
 and again a tearing wolf which menaced her. He, on his 
 side, was always striving to reach her, that he might help 
 and succour her ; but ever some power held him back. In 
 the last dream, however, so near was the wolf to her, so 
 visible its fangs, so audible its feet, that Bryan broke, as 
 it were, from his invisible bonds, and springing to her 
 aid, found himself lying across the bed, wide awake. His 
 
 183
 
 1 84 DEAN-HURST 
 
 dream had been so vivid, that his heart was beating fast 
 from the excitement of it, and he lay a moment wondering 
 and collecting his thoughts. 
 
 But there was a sound of running feet in reality - 
 human feet and clamour and confusion in the air. 
 What had happened ? 
 
 Bryan sprang off the bed, and looked through the 
 window. The space outside the garden and the mill- 
 yard was, he found, filled with men, women, and 
 children ; smoke was issuing from some part of the mill 
 or warehouse ; and men were busy manipulating hose- 
 pipes. 
 
 "My God ! " cried Bryan, " there is a fire ! " 
 Forgetting all his bodily aches and pains, Bryan was 
 dressed in a fashion in about two minutes, and, in 
 dressing-gown and slippers, rushed downstairs and out at 
 the front door. At the gate he met Mr. Warwick. 
 His face showed ghastly white through a coating of 
 smoke-grime, his body was trembling all over, and his 
 lips quivered piteously as he gasped 
 
 "I I was coming to you, Mr. Bryan. I we cannot 
 find your mother anywhere nor my Joyce." 
 
 " Oh, my God ! " exclaimed Bryan again, dashing past 
 the minister, rushing like a madman through the crowd, 
 and leaping up the stairs. 
 
 One glance showed him that nothing could be done 
 until the ingress of the smoke and on-coming fire were 
 stopped; and to accomplish that, he must have help. 
 He flew downstairs and called for three or four 
 volunteers to assist him to block up the doorway 
 between the warehouse and the wool-chamber ; for, so 
 far, there being nothing within its reach in the former, 
 and the door-jambs being of stone, the fire was confined
 
 RESCUE 185 
 
 to the latter room. Half a dozen came amongst them 
 Mr. Warwick, who had followed fast on Bryan's heels. 
 
 "No, no," cried Bryan to him, "you must not come. 
 You cannot lift and push bales of goods." 
 
 It was a perilous undertaking to brave that suffocating 
 atmosphere ; but the men put their will into it, and they 
 dragged and pushed and lifted, in the very face of the 
 fire which scorched them, until the aperture was blocked. 
 Then Bryan, more dead than alive, just managed to take 
 away the bar of the large door, and he and another pulled 
 it back ; and then they all reeled and fell on the floor. 
 But the fresh, blessed air revived them shortly, and soon 
 too made a marked difference in the density of the smoke. 
 
 Bryan was the first to recover. He gave rapid directions 
 to one of the men to let down another by the crane the 
 one below to send up buckets of water, to be poured 
 upon the bales of blankets and flannels just piled up. 
 This would employ three of the men : of the other two, 
 Bryan begged that, as soon as they were able, they would 
 assist in the search which he himself now began. The 
 atmosphere was still very thick, though much relieved, 
 and Bryan moved carefully about, on hands and knees, 
 in his sickening exploration. By and by, to his astonish- 
 ment, he saw a gap in the floor in front of him. For an 
 instant he paused in bewilderment ; then he thought he 
 knew what it would be somebody, in the confusion, had 
 opened the trap-door ! Was it possible that his mother ' 
 and Joyce had fallen down there ? 
 
 It was a moment of the most intense anguish when 
 the thought first flashed into his mind ; then, instantly, 
 it occurred to him that the atmosphere down below would 
 be far less deadly than in the room. But suppose the 
 fall had killed them !
 
 i86 DEAN-HURST 
 
 Bryan occasionally indulged in a cigar, and he now felt 
 in one of his pockets for a box of " wax vestas " which 
 he usually carried there. He found it, struck one of the 
 matches, and by its feeble light steered himself to the top 
 of the worn steps. The light went out, and he struck 
 another and peered into the depths below; but it did 
 not penetrate far enough. He struck yet a third, and 
 made his way carefully down amid oil-cans, brushes, and 
 litter of various descriptions standing and lying on the 
 hollow, worn steps. This time he was rewarded both 
 by sight and sound ; somebody lay there, at the bottom 
 of the steps somebody who still lived, for a low moan 
 greeted his ears. He struck another match, and bent low 
 over the body : 
 
 It was Joyce ! 
 
 With an exclamation, at once of anguish and relief, 
 and with an unuttered but fervent prayer to God for 
 help, Bryan sat down on one of the steps and drew Joyce 
 up into his arms at present he was powerless to do 
 more. Where how how much she was hurt, he could 
 not see ; but she lived thank God, she lived ! 
 
 In his joy that this was so, in his half-delirious state 
 of mind and half-stupefied condition of body, Bryan 
 momentarily lost sight of the fact that Joyce did not 
 belong to him ; and he clasped her close, and called her 
 by almost every endearing term in the vocabulary, 
 adjuring her to speak to him. And eventually his 
 appeals must have reached her brain ; for, by and by, 
 Joyce half opened her eyes, and sighed more than said 
 the one word 
 
 " Bryan ! " 
 
 But now that Joyce could speak, Bryan was speech- 
 less partly from emotion, and partly from awakening
 
 RESCUE 187 
 
 consciousness of the fact I have just mentioned. Still he 
 held her as before mustering his own strength, waiting 
 until the air of the room was a little better, that he 
 might carry her into the cottage. 
 
 " Bryan ! " again fell from the lips of Joyce, and this 
 time in rather stronger accents, " Bryan I think 
 I believe I am dying ! " 
 
 " God forbid ! " ejaculated Bryan, with a shudder. 
 
 " Don't say that, " gasped Joyce ; " I would rather die. 
 But I would like you to know that that I love you 
 dearly dearly, " she repeated, in a voice half a moan ; 
 " I cannot die with with a lie on my soul. I 
 wanted you to have Dean -Hurst that was why. 
 You will think of me sometimes, when you are 
 happy there." 
 
 There was a long pause after this somewhat disjointed 
 explanation, Bryan convulsively clasping Joyce closer to 
 his breast, utterly unable to speak a word, from the 
 tumult of joy and anguish within him. 
 
 Once more Joyce spoke 
 
 " Bryan kiss me ! " 
 
 Faint but distinct fell these words on Bryan's ears ; 
 and raising the dear head of Joyce from his shoulder, he 
 imprinted a long, tender kiss on the trembling lips which 
 met his. That kiss gave Bryan renewed life energy 
 mental and physical strength. Joyce loved him ! Please 
 God, Joyce should not die must not die ! He, Bryan, 
 would save her yet ! 
 
 A mighty cheer, a shout of joy rent the air, when, a 
 minute or two afterwards, Bryan Dean emerged from the 
 wooden stairway, bearing in his arms Joyce Warwick 
 for he passed the word at once that she was living.
 
 1 88 DEAN-HURST 
 
 Her golden curls were tossed on his shoulder her face 
 was partly hidden there ; one arm hung helpless, broken, 
 at her side ; and she had lapsed into unconsciousness again ; 
 but 
 
 " She is living, Mr. Warwick, and, please God, will 
 live," said Bryan huskily, in reply to the father's 
 appealing look. " Find Sam, will you," he continued, 
 "and tell him to saddle Boxer, and fly to Beck Foot for a 
 doctor two all he can find ! " 
 
 " And your mother ] " asked Mr. Warwick, now 
 partially relieved from anxiety on his daughter's account. 
 
 " Is she not found yet ? " asked Bryan, staggering as if 
 he had received a blow. 
 
 " I believe not," said Mr. Warwick sadly. 
 
 Bryan had reached the garden gate now, where Zillah 
 was standing, wringing her hands. 
 
 " Come ! " he said to her ; and he carried Joyce 
 indoors, and laid her on the sofa in the sitting-room. 
 " Attend to her, for me, Zillah ; and I will go now and 
 look for mother," he said, brokenly. 
 
 But there was no need for him to mount the stairs 
 again. At the bottom he met two men one of them 
 George Farrar, bearing his mother's body between them. 
 She was apparently dead : her face showed white 
 through the smoke-grime, her lips were livid, her swollen 
 tongue, livid also, protruded between them. She was a 
 ghastly object indeed, and Bryan sickened at the sight. 
 He could afford no help now he could only, staggering 
 as he went, lead the way into the house, and upstairs into 
 his mother's room. There they laid her on the bed ; and 
 Rebecca and a woman of the congregation, assisted by 
 Bryan, did what they could to restore respiration. 
 
 The woman in question had formerly lived in a
 
 RESCUE 189 
 
 colliery village, and had often seen men brought up from 
 the mines, suffering from choke-damp, after an explosion. 
 They had looked very much as Mrs. Dean looked, she 
 said and yet they recovered. She took the direction of 
 affairs, knowing what was generally done in such cases ; 
 but it was all to no purpose. Mrs. Dean had a weak 
 heart and it had been overstrained ; and she had lain in 
 that suffocating atmosphere too long. When the doctor 
 came, he pronounced her dead. And Mr. Warwick knelt 
 with the stricken Bryan and Zillah, and commended her 
 soul to her Maker, little thinking that it was the soul of 
 a murderer in intent and that too of his own beloved 
 child, and asked for the son and daughter His comfort 
 and grace. 
 
 The fire, meantime, had by vigorous measures been ex- 
 tinguished, having been confined to the one room. How 
 it had originated was never made quite clear. Sam had 
 had some difficulty in making the stove-fire burn, in the 
 first instance, and acknowledged to having gone into the 
 next room in search of additional fuel, candle in hand, 
 for it was not quite light. And one of the school lads, 
 fired with boyish curiosity, had been seen to steal into 
 the said room also; and he was a lad seldom without 
 matches in his pocket. The blame therefore lay between 
 these two, but could be affixed to neither with certainty. 
 
 As for the open trap-door, nobody seemed to know 
 anything about that, and the inquiries were not very 
 rigorously prosecuted. An awful thought would some- 
 times present itself to Bryan ; but his very soul cried out 
 against it, and he put it from him. And however it 
 might have been, his mother's Judge was also her 
 Redeemer, and " He knew what sore temptation was."
 
 190 DEAN-HURST 
 
 And the merciful hand of Time has softened this tragic 
 sorrow, and Bryan Dean has become a happy man. For 
 Joyce, though many months an invalid and crippled, did 
 not die, but became her own bright, winsome self again, 
 and has now been Bryan's wife for several years every 
 year seeming to unite the pair in closer, more loving 
 bonds. Zillah married George Farrar a few months 
 before Bryan and Joyce were married, and they still have 
 their little quarrels. 
 
 Captain Crimsworth, my readers will be glad to hear, 
 either moved to compassion by reason of the catastrophe 
 at their temporary place of worship, or put into a good 
 humour by being himself temporarily in funds, granted 
 to the people of Dean Head a fresh lease of their land 
 on something like reasonable terms sixty per cent, 
 advance, instead of a hundred ; reasonableness, it will be 
 perceived, being like many other things comparative. 
 
 Mr. Warwick still occupies the Manse, and Absalom 
 Rodley the cottage. Joyce's children often go in to the 
 latter, to see the little man and woman at the top of the 
 clock, and to stare gravely at Marinda and her ear- 
 trumpet. Young Bryan more than once has attempted 
 to blow into it, under the impression that it is a musical 
 instrument ; the said Marinda confiding to all and sundry, 
 that in the wide world there are no children to equal 
 Joyce's. She almost envies her sister Eebecca, who has 
 the privilege of living amongst them. Maud Warwick is 
 married to a Londoner, and is seldom seen at Dean Head. 
 Mrs. Warwick, I ought to say, highly approved of 
 Joyce's marriage. Jack spends Saturday afternoon and 
 Sunday at home, but during the week is at Baleborough, 
 where he has gone to business ; so generally there is only 
 Jill there, now grown into a beautiful young lady.
 
 RESCUE 191 
 
 Agatha Whaite occupies Dean-Hurst, so far, in a state 
 of single-blessedness. Her father is dead, and Lower 
 Dean Mills have been taken over by a " company." It 
 has been a terrible disappointment to her the failure of 
 her romantic and yet self-seeking scheme; and at first, 
 when she went to live at Dean-Hurst, she spent hours in 
 a week gazing upon the old portraits, and thinking of what 
 might have been. But though she would scarcely miss 
 it she is so rich it never occurs to her to transfer the 
 property to the descendants of its ancient possessors. 
 Her friendship with Zillah has lapsed, and Joyce and 
 Bryan seldom see her ; though the latter still passes the 
 old place, as usual, two or three times every week. 
 
 Bryan Dean is still comparatively a poor man, and has 
 small hopes of ever coming into possession of Dean-Hurst. 
 But that fact no longer troubles him ; he considers it 
 well-lost for conscience', 1 for honour, for sweet Joyce's 
 sake. 
 
 THE END 
 
 MORRISON JiST> GIBB, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH
 
 A 
 
 1 
 
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 or 
 
 GENERAL, RELIGIOUS AND 
 JUVENILE LITERATURE 
 
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 In Cr. 8vo, cloth, gilt lettered, fully Illustrated, 
 Two Shillings each. 
 
 1 General Gordon, Hero and Saint. By Anne E. 
 
 Keeling. 
 
 2 Barbara Heck: A Story of Early Methodism 
 
 in America. By W. H. Withrow, D.D. 
 
 3 Glenwood : A Story of School Life. By J. K. 
 
 Bloomfield. 
 
 4 Ringing Bells. By Reese Rockwell. 
 
 5 Her Welcome Home. By Sarson C. J. Ingham.
 
 CHAS. II. KELLY S PUBLICATIONS. 13 
 
 The 'Glen-wood* Library contd. 
 
 6 Five Brave Hearts. By Edith Rhodes. 
 
 7 Bluebell of Swanpool. By A. E. Court enay. 
 
 8 Severn to Tyne : Story of Six English Rivers. 
 
 By E. M. Edwards. 
 
 9 Fought and Won. By Ruth Elliott. 
 
 10 Nine Famous Crusades. By Anne E. Keeling. 
 
 11 Scenes through the Battle Smoke. By Rev. 
 
 A. Male. 
 
 12 The Rabbi's Sons: A Story of the Days of 
 
 St. Paul. By Emily Weaver. 
 
 13 A Modern Exodus. By Faye Huntingdon. 
 
 THE 'PANSY' SERIES OF 
 GIFT BOOKS. 
 
 In Cr. 8vo, handsomely bound in cloth, gilt 
 lettered, Illustrated. 
 
 Two Shillings each. 
 
 1 As in a Mirror. 
 
 2 Aunt Hannah and Martha and John. 
 
 3 By Way of the Wilderness. 
 
 4 Eighty-Seven : A Chautauqua Story. 
 
 5 Her Associate Members. 
 
 6 John Remington, Martyr. 
 
 7 Judge Burnham's Daughters. 
 
 8 Making Fate. 
 
 9 Miss Dee Dunmore Bryant. 
 
 10 Overruled. 
 
 11 Pauline. 
 
 12 Stephen Mitchell's Journey. 
 
 13 Twenty Minutes Late. 
 
 14 Unto the End. 
 
 15 'Wanted.' 
 
 IP TOat They Couldn't. 
 
 17 Yesterday Framed in To-Day.
 
 14 A SELECTION FROM 
 
 THE 'CASTLE* SERIES OF 
 BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Cr. 8vo, cloth, gilt lettered, about 300 pages, 
 One Shilling & Sixpence each. 
 
 1 Fina's First Fruits, and other Stories. By 
 
 Lena Tyaok. 
 
 2 Jeannette of Jersey. By Robin E. Gallienne. 
 
 3 Joyce Macdonald. By E. S. Cann. 
 
 4 The Nine, a Family History. By Emily M. 
 
 Bryant. 
 
 5 Than Many Sparrows. By A. E. Courtenay. 
 
 6 Shadows, how they Came and Went. By H. 
 Briston. 
 
 7 Miss Meyrick's Neice. By E. Everett-Green. 
 
 8 Hawthornvale. By Rev. S. Cuthbertson. 
 
 9 For the King and the Cross. By J. Armstrong. 
 
 10 Fortunes and Misfortunes. By W. H. Booth. 
 
 11 Dean Hurst. By S. S. Earner. 
 
 12 A Pledge that Redeemed Itself. By Sarson. 
 
 13 The Shadow of Nobility. By E. E. Hornibrook. 
 
 14 My Black Sheep. By E. Everett-Green. 
 
 15 Mad Margrete and Little Gunnvald. By Nellie 
 
 Cornwall. 
 
 16 Lady Marjorie : a Story of Methodist Work a 
 
 Hundred Years ago. By Emma Ledie. 
 
 17 Alys of Lutterworth : a Story of the Times of 
 
 Wicklif. By K. T. Sizer. 
 
 18 Avice Tennant's Pilgrimage : a Tale of Bun- 
 
 yan's Days. By K. T. Sizer. 
 
 19 Scripture Truths made Simple. By Rev. J. 
 
 R. Gregory. 
 
 20 At the Gates of the Morning : n Story of the 
 
 Reformation in Kent. By Dora M. Jones.
 
 CHAS. E, KELLTS PUBLICATIONS. 15 
 
 The 'Castle* Series for Girls contd. 
 
 21 Cecily: A Tale of the Reformat! on. By E. Leslie. 
 
 22 The Message of the Birds. By Mrs. W. 0. 
 
 Maihews. 
 
 23 The Pride of the Family. By Anne E. Keeling. 
 
 24 Twenty Minutes Late. By Pansy. 
 
 25 Valeria. By W. H. Wifhrow, D.D. 
 
 26 Tina and Beth. By Annie E. Courtenay. 
 
 27 The Lancasters and their Friends. By 8. J. 
 
 Fitzgerald. 
 
 28 The Willow Pattern. Pictures of Chinese Life. 
 
 By Rev. HUderic Friend. 
 
 29 At Aunt Verbena's. By M. S. Haycraft. 
 
 30 With a Gladsome Mind. By M. S. Haycraft. 
 
 31 Pink Roses. By M. S. Haycraft. 
 
 32 Adelaide's Treasure. By Sarson. 
 
 33 The Stolen Children. By H. Bleby. 
 
 34 Home and Home Life in Bible Lands. By J. 
 
 R. S. Clifford. 
 
 THE 'CASTLE* SERIES OF 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 Cr. 8vo, cloth, gilt lettered, about 300 pages, 
 One Shilling & Sixpence each. 
 
 1 Auriel, and other Tales. By Ruth Elliott. 
 
 2 From Rung to Rung : a Story for Boys. By J. 
 
 Macdonald Oxley. 
 
 3 A Change of Weather. By W. J. Forster. 
 
 4 Children of the Village. By Emily M. Bryant. 
 
 5 Stories of Many Wheels. By W. J. Forster. 
 
 6 Vaughan Persey. By Helen Briston. 
 
 7 Those Boys. By Faye Huntington. 
 
 8 Nathanael Noble's Homely Talks. By H. Smith.
 
 1(5 A SELECTION FROM 
 
 The ' Castle Series * for Boys contd. 
 
 9 The Q-ilead Guards : a Story of the American 
 Civil War. - By Mrs. 0. W. Scott. 
 
 10 Denis Patterson : a Story of Early Methodism. 
 
 By K. T. Sizer. 
 
 11 Crosbie Urquhart's Sowing : a Story of Fifty 
 
 Years ago. By K. T. Sizer. 
 
 12 The Bevans. By W. T. Emms. 
 
 13 Parson Hardwork's Nut, and How he Cracked 
 
 it. By W. W. Haughton. 
 
 14 More than Kin. By E. E. Hornibrook. 
 
 15 Hugh Axe of Hephzibah. By J. M. Bamford. 
 
 16 Grand Gilmore. By Reese Rockwell. 
 
 17 Guy and Gladys : Two Small Westerners. Bu 
 
 C. D. Hyde. 
 
 18 Dr. Brent's Neighbours : a Tale of Two Homes 
 
 during the Great War. By D. M. Jones. 
 
 19 Dickon 0' Greenwood : a Village Picture of 
 
 Martyr Days. By K. T. Sizer. 
 
 20 Caleb and Beckey. By C. R. Parsons. 
 
 21 The Cracked Hearthstone. By J. M. Bamford. 
 
 22 Acha*'s Ghost. By J. M. Bamford. 
 
 23 The Opposite House. By A. F. Perram. 
 
 24 Andrew Golding ; a Story of the Great Plague. 
 
 By Anne E. Keeling. 
 
 25 Roger Haigh, CJaartermaster. By Mrs. R. A. 
 
 Watson. 
 
 26 Feringhi; Stories of Indian Gypsy Life. By 
 
 Rev. A. Dumbarton. 
 
 27 Capture of the Pirates. By H. Blely. 
 
 28 Sir Walter Raleigh. By G. K. True, D.D. 
 
 29 Martin Luther. By J. 8. Banks.
 
 CHAS. E. KELLY'S PUBLICATIONS. 17 
 
 'ROB RAT' SERIES. 
 
 Royal 16mo, Illustrated, doth, gilt lettered, 
 One Shilling each. 
 
 1 Rob Rat; a Story of Barge Life. By Mark 
 
 Guy Pearse. 
 
 2 The Old MiUer and his Mill. By Mark Guy 
 
 Pearse. 
 
 3 John Tregenoweth, his Mark. By Mark Guy 
 
 Pearse. 
 
 4 The Bear's Den. By E. H. Miller. 
 
 5 The Cliftons and their Play-Hours. By Mrs. 
 
 Cosslett. 
 
 6 Gleanings in Natural History for Young People. 
 
 7 The History of the Tea-Cup : with a Descriptive 
 
 Account of the Potter's Art. By the Rev. 
 G. R. Wedgwood. 
 
 8 Holy Days and Holidays ; or, Memories of the 
 
 Calendar in Olden Times. By J. R. S. 
 Clifford. 
 
 9 The Lilyvale Club and Its Doings. By E. A. 
 
 Johnson, D.D. 
 
 10 Thirty Thousand Pounds ; and other Sketches 
 
 from Daily Life. 
 
 11 ' Wee Donald ' : Sequel to 'Stony Road.' 
 
 12 Maude Linden ; or, Work for Jesus. By LUlie 
 
 Montfort. 
 
 13 My First Class, and other Stories. By Ruth 
 
 Elliott. 
 
 14 Ned's Motto ; or, Little by Little. By Daniel 
 
 Wi*e,D.D. 
 
 15 Oscar's Boyhood ; or, the Sailor's Son. By 
 
 Daniel Wise, D.D.
 
 18 A SELECTION FROM 
 
 "Rob Rat" Series contd. 
 
 16 Royal Road to Riches. By E. H. Miller. 
 
 17 Summer Days at Kirkwood. By E. H. Miller. 
 
 18 A Year at Riverside Farm. By E. H. Miller. 
 
 19 The Stony Road : A Tale of Humble Life. 
 
 20 Stories for Willing Ears. For Boys. By T. S. E. 
 
 21 Stories for Willing Ears. For Girls. ByT.S.E. 
 
 DR. RICHARD NEWTON'S 
 WORKS. 
 
 Cr. 8vo, Handsomely bound in cloth, Illustrated, 
 One Shilling each. 
 
 1 Bible Animals and the Lessons Taught by Them. 
 
 2 Bible Jewels. 
 
 3 Bible Promises. 
 
 4 Bible Warnings. 
 
 5 Bible Wonders. 
 
 6 The Great Pilot and His Lessons. 
 
 7 The King's Highway ; or, Illustrations of the 
 
 Commandments. 
 
 8 Martyrs and Heroes of the Reformation. 
 
 9 Rays from the Sun of Righteousness. 
 10 The Safe Compass, and How it Points,
 
 CHAS. E. KELLY'S PUBLICATIONS. 19 
 
 THE 'IDEAL* LIBRARY FOR 
 GIRLS. 
 
 In large Cr. 8vo, cloth, gilt lettered, 
 One Shilling each. 
 
 1 Maggie Fail-burn. By Rev, J. Feather. 
 
 2 The Children of the Court. By F. M. Holmes. 
 
 3 The Basket of Flowers. By C. von Schmid. 
 
 4 Dairyman's Daughter. By L. Richmond. 
 
 5 Go Work : a Book for Girls. By A. F. Perram. 
 
 6 Grannie Tresawna's Story. By Nellie Cornwall. 
 
 7 Jennie and her Charges. By A. Rylands. 
 
 8 Windmill House. By Edith Cornforth. 
 
 9 A Voice from the Sea : or the Wreck of the 
 
 ' Eglantine.' By Ruth Elliott. 
 
 10 A New Affection. By Mary P. Nicholls. 
 
 11 Mother McCubbin. By Annie M. Young. 
 
 12 May's Captain. By Helen Briston. 
 
 13 Patty Thome's Adventures. By H. B. Paull. 
 
 14 Nina's Burnished Gold. By E. Search-field. 
 
 15 Oakhurst Chronicles : a Tale of the Times of 
 
 Wesley. By Anne E. Keeling. 
 
 16 The Star in the East. By R. Rowe. 
 
 17 The Two Harvests. By A. Rylands. 
 
 18 Sybil's Repentance. By M. S. Haycraft. 
 
 19 Bible Talks with Young Folks. By W. J. 
 
 Forster. 
 
 20 The Happy Valley. By Rev. S. Langdon. 
 
 21 Among the Pimento Groves : a Story of Jamaica 
 
 22 Pilgrim's Progress. By John Bunyan. 
 
 23 Far from the Clamorous World. By Jno. 
 
 Hingeley. 
 
 24 Those Watchful Eyes. By Emilie Searchfield.
 
 20 A SELECTION FROM 
 
 NEW SERIES OF POPULAR 
 BIOGRAPHIES. 
 
 Ittuetrated. Cr. 8vo, doth, gilt lettered, 
 One Shilling each. 
 
 1 John Wyclif : Translator of the Bible, and 
 
 Reformer. By R. Corlett Cowell. 
 
 2 From Cobbler's Bench to President's Chair : 
 
 The Story of Samuel Bradburn. By Rev. 
 Benjamin Gregory, ZXD. 
 
 3 Poacher turned Preacher : The Story of John 
 
 Preston of Yeadon, a remarkable Local 
 Preacher. By Rev. B. Gregory, D.D. 
 
 4 Susanna Wesley and other Eminent Methodist 
 
 Women. By A. E. Keeling. With Portraits. 
 
 5 Bernard Gilpin, the Apostle of the North. 
 
 By Rev. H. Bunting. 
 
 6 Friends of the Slave. Granville Sharp, Thomas 
 
 Clarkson, Wilberforce, Buxton, and others. 
 By Rev. G. Maunder. 
 
 7 Friends of the Prisoner. John Howard, 
 
 Elizabeth Fry, Sarah Martin, and others. 
 By Rev. G. Maunder. 
 
 8 Joseph Garibaldi, Patriot and Soldier. By 
 
 R. Corlett Cowell. 
 
 9 Count Zinzendorf: a Pioneer of Social 
 
 Christianity. 
 
 10 The Scottish Covenanters. By Rev. Thoa. J. 
 Macartney.
 
 CHAS. H. KELLTS PUBLICATIONS. 21 
 
 THE 'IDEAL* LIBRARY 
 FOR BOYS. 
 
 In large Cr. 8vo, cloth, gilt lettered, 
 One Shilling each. 
 
 1 The Four Friends. By W. W. Pocock, B.A. 
 
 2 Jacob Winterton's Inheritance. By E. Search- 
 
 field. 
 
 3 James Daryll. By Ruth Elliott. 
 
 4 The Hand on the Helm. By F. A. Trotter. 
 
 5 John Marriott's Idol : or, The Scarlet Geranium. 
 
 6 The King's Messenger : a Story of Canadian 
 
 Life. By Dr. Withrow. 
 
 7 John Rowan's Trust. By E. M. Edwards. 
 
 8 Lion, the Mastiff. By A. G. Savigny. 
 
 9 The New Headmaster : or Little Speedwell's 
 
 Victory. By M. Haycraft. 
 
 10 Raymond Theed. By Elsie Kendall. 
 
 11 Soldiers of Liberty: a Story of the Siege of 
 
 Leyden. By E. P. Weaver. 
 
 12 Ste : or, the Lad of Lovelyn. By ' Old Cornish.' 
 
 13 Sprattie and the Dwarf : a Story of East 
 
 London. By Nellie Cormoall. 
 
 14 Castle Mailing. By A. E. Keeling. 
 
 15 Cecil Wilford: a Soldier's Son. By E. M. 
 
 Edwards. 
 
 16 Courtenay Harrison's Early Struggles. By M. 
 
 E. Crowther. 
 
 17 Elbert's Return. By Dr. Wise. 
 
 18 'Gainst Friend and Foe. By Alan a Dale. 
 
 19 At the Leap of San Juan. A Sark Story. 
 
 By E. Gailieune Robin.
 
 A SELECTION FROM 
 
 LARGE TYPE SERIES FOR 
 YOUNG CHILDREN. 
 
 Crown 4to, doth, ink lettered, numerous Illustrations, 
 One Shilling each. 
 
 1 In Distant Lands. By W. J. Forster. 
 
 2 Our Blest Redeemer: The Story of the Life 
 
 of Christ. Told for Children. By Kate 
 T. Sizer. 
 
 3 Pictures and Stories from the Old Testament. 
 
 By Kate T. Sizer. 
 
 4 New Fables for Boys and Girls. By W. J. 
 
 Forster. 
 
 5 Some Famous Britons. By W. J. Forster. 
 
 6 Florrie's Strange Guest. By Harry Norton. 
 
 7 Some English Rivers. By W. J. Forster. 
 
 8 There and Back. By W. J. Forster. 
 
 9 Those Three. By May Lewis Smith. 
 
 10 Those Tiresome Pigs. By Harry Norton. 
 
 11 Romance and Heroism of Early Methodism. 
 
 By J. A. Clapperton, M.A. 
 
 THE 'SPEEDWELL* LIBRARY 
 OF BOYS* BOOKS. 
 
 Cr. 8vo, cloth, gilt lettered, about 192 pages, 
 One Shilling each. 
 
 1 Tim's Friend. By Annie E. Barton. 
 
 2 Ludwig's Treasure. By Kate T. Sizer. 
 
 3 Uncle Ray's Choice. By Jennie Chappell. 
 
 4 The Boys of Northcote. By H. R. Baldwin. 
 
 5 Mark Harvey, the Engine Driver. By W. Jago.
 
 CHAS. H. KELLY'S PUBLICATIONS. 23 
 
 THE 'SPEEDWELL' LIBRARY 
 OF GIRLS' BOOKS. 
 
 Cr. Svo, cloth, gilt lettered, about 192 pages, 
 One Shilling each. 
 
 1 A-Fa : The Story of a Slave Girl in China. 
 
 2 Dolly and Syb. By E. M. Bryant. 
 
 3 Lisbeth's Choice. By Mrs. Haycraft. 
 
 4 Open Flowers. By Margaret Haycraft. 
 
 5 Miss Dorn well's Domestic. By S. Moorland. 
 
 6 The Boer's Daughter : A Tale of Majuba Hill. 
 
 7 Muriel, the Sister Mother. By Dorothy Hooton. 
 
 UNCLE FRANK'S LIBRARY 
 FOR BOYS. 
 
 In Small Cr. Svo, cloth, ink lettered, 
 Ninepence each. 
 
 1 Kenooshao : a Red Indian Tragedy. By Rev. 
 
 G. Barnley. 
 
 2 King Alfred's Last Christmas. By F. S. 
 
 Hollings. 
 
 3 Knight's Move. By W. J. Forster. 
 
 4 Land of the Ganges : Life in Northern India. 
 
 By J. Marrat. 
 
 5 Left to Take Care of Themselves. By A. 
 
 Rylands. 
 
 6 Mattie and Bessie. By A. E. Courtenay. 
 1 Michael the Tailor. By M. Gallienne. 
 
 8 Narrow Escape. By W. J. Forster. 
 
 9 One Too Many. By E. M. Edwards. 
 
 10 Rooksnest Abbey. By Jennie Chappell. 
 
 11 Sinclair's Museum. By W. J. Forster. 
 
 12 Skipper George Netman : a story of New- 
 
 foundland. By G. J. Bond. 
 
 13 Tom Fletcher's Fortunes. By Mrs. H. B. 
 
 Paull
 
 24 A SELECTION FROM 
 
 Uncle Frank's Library for Boys 
 
 continued. 
 
 14 When His Years were Few. By Edith Com forth. 
 
 15 With Sword and Shield. By W. J. Forater. 
 1 The Young Bankrupt. By J. Cohcell. 
 
 17 Under the Juniper Tree. By W. J. Forster. 
 
 18 Tom O'Jack's Lad. By Uncle Jacob. 
 
 AUNT DOROTHY'S LIBRARY 
 FOR GIRLS. 
 
 In Sm ill Or. 8vo, cloth, ink lettered, 
 Ninepence each. 
 
 1 The Basket of Flowers. By C. Von Schmid. 
 
 2 Brookside School. By Margaret Haycraft. 
 
 3 Elizabeth Gaunt. A Tale of Monmouth's 
 
 Rebellion. By F. S. Rollings. 
 
 4 Foundation Scholar. By Jennie Perrett. 
 
 5 Heartsease and Morning Glories. By Jennie 
 
 Chappell. 
 
 6 High Ridge Farm. By S. Moorland. 
 
 7 Miss Grahame's Memorial. 
 
 8 Nell, the Clown's Wife. By E. Gradidge. 
 
 9 Pictures and Stories about the Early Christians. 
 
 By Annie F. Perram. 
 
 10 Sara's Choice ; or, No Vain Sacrifice. By 
 
 Annie F. Perram. 
 
 11 Scenes from the Wonderful Life. By W. J. 
 
 Forster. 
 
 12 Sketches of Early Methodism in the Black 
 
 Country. 
 
 13 Within Thy Gates : Bible Talks with Children. 
 
 By W. J. Forster. 
 
 14 Thorns and Flowers. By A. Rylands.
 
 CHA8. H. KELLY'S PUBLICATIONS. 25 
 THE 'IMPERIAL' SERIES. 
 
 In Imperial 16mo, ornamental cloth, with 
 illustrations, 
 
 Elghtpence each. 
 
 1 Alphabet's Quarrel, and other Stories. By W. 
 
 J. Forster. 
 
 2 Capitals of Europe. By W. J. Forster. 
 
 3 Caught in the Snow, and other Stories. By 
 
 W. J. Forster. 
 
 4 Charley's Year at the Farm. By W. J. Forster. 
 
 5 Early Joe, and other Stories. By W. J. Forster. 
 
 6 Herbert's Prize, and other Stories. By W. J. 
 
 Forster. 
 
 7 Hermit for a Day, and other Stories. By W. J. 
 
 Forster. 
 
 8 Man in the Moon, and other Stories. By W. J. 
 
 Forster. 
 
 9 Stolen Keys, and other Stories. By W. J. 
 
 Forster. 
 
 10 Street Lamp's Story, and other Stories. By 
 
 W. J. Forster. 
 
 11 Two Dragons, and other Stories. By W. J. 
 
 Forster. 
 
 WONDERFUL LAMP* SERIES 
 FOR GIRLS. 
 
 In Small Cr. 8vo, cloth, ink lettered, 
 Sixpence each. 
 
 1 The Wonderful Lamp. By Eubh Elliott. 
 
 2 The Chat in the Meadow. By Lillie Montfort. 
 
 3 Dots and Gwinnie.
 
 26 A SELECTION FROM 
 
 'Wonderful Lamp' Series for 
 Girls eontd. 
 
 4 Mary Ashton. 
 
 5 Minnie Neilson'a Summer Holidays. 
 
 6 Mona Bell. 
 
 7 Rosa's Christmas Invitations. By Lfllie 
 
 Montfort. 
 
 8 The Message of the Flowers. By Mrs. W. 0. 
 
 Mathews. 
 
 9 Noll's Wonderings : Peeps into Astronomy 
 
 and Geology. By K. T. Sizer. 
 
 10 A Posy of Pinks. 
 
 11 Trixie, Jack, and Baby Belle. 
 
 12 Laura Merton and Her Friends. 
 
 13 Letty Lacey. 
 
 14 Little Miss Crosspatch. 
 
 15 Little Spangles ; or Trust in God. 
 
 16 Mayflower Pilgrims. By K. T. Sizer. 
 
 17 Eva's Mission. By A. P. Perram. 
 
 18 Faithful Rigmor and Her Grandmother. By 
 
 Nellie Cornwall. 
 
 19 Fanny Lawson. 
 
 20 Golden Jerusalem. By Jennie Perrett. 
 
 21 How Katie Kept House. By A. F. Perram. 
 
 22 Captives by the Nile : A Story of the Hebrew 
 
 Exodus. 
 
 23 Burden Bearers and Travelling by Land and 
 
 Water. 
 
 24 Cecily Mordaunt. 
 
 25 Celestine and Sallie. 
 
 26 The Children of Kinlochbervie. By A. F. 
 
 Perram. 
 
 27 Christine's Sacrifice. By K. T. Sizer.
 
 CEAS. H. KELLY'S PUBLICATIONS. 27 
 
 'Wonderful Lamp* Series for 
 Girls eontd. 
 
 28 Daddy Longlegs and His Wliite Heath Flower. 
 
 By Nellie Cormcall. 
 
 29 Deborah's Trials and Triumphs. By E. 
 
 Searchfield. 
 
 30 The Haunted Life. By Rev. J. Eaigh. 
 
 31 In the Eventide: A Tale of Home and the 
 
 World. 
 
 32 Joyce Maxwell's Mistakes : A Story of the 
 
 Mission Field. By Lena Tyack. 
 
 33 The Adventures of Peggy. 
 
 34 Ephraim Wragge's Recollections. 
 
 35 How People Dress at Home and Abroad. 
 
 36 The Story of Lydia Muttulakshmi. 
 
 WONDERFUL LAMP* SERIES 
 FOR BOYS. 
 
 In Small Gr. 8vo, cloth, ink lettered, 
 Sixpence each. 
 
 1 After Many Days. 
 
 2 John's Teachers. By Lillie Mont fort. 
 
 3 Johnnie's Work : and How He Did It. 
 
 4 Ragged Jim's Last Song : and other Ballads. 
 
 5 Short Sermona for Little People. By T. 
 
 Champnesa. 
 
 6 Story of an Apprenticeship. 
 
 7 The Wreck of the 'Maria' Mail Boat 
 
 8 Northward Ho ! By K. T. Sizer. 
 
 9 The Peace Boy. By E. M. Bryant. 
 
 10 Ronald's Self Denial. By W. J. Forster. 
 
 11 Sir John Franklin. 
 
 12 The Story of Our English Bible. By H. A. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 13 Three Friends and Some Little People.
 
 28 
 
 'Wonderful Lamp' Series fop 
 
 Boys contd. 
 
 14 Little Phil's Christmas Gifts. 
 
 15 The Man in Armour. 
 
 16 Enrico's School Days. By K. T Sizer. 
 
 17 For Basil's Sake. 
 
 18 Bernard Palissy, the Huguenot Potter. By A. 
 
 E. Keeling. 
 
 19 David Field and Harry GiU. 
 
 20 Soon and Safe. 
 
 21 That Half-Crown : Whose Was Tt? 
 
 22 Ancass, the Slave Preacher. 
 
 23 Hugh's Ancestors ; or, English T?oys and Girls 
 
 in Far-off Times. By K. T. Sizer. 
 
 24 Two Little Wanderers. By R. F. Hardy. 
 
 25 Pictures of Early Methodists. By S. Ellen 
 
 Gregory. 
 
 26 Little Jim : a Young Christian Hero. 
 
 27 How Book are Made. By T. G. Heath. 
 
 28 Fire and Water, etc. By T. C. Heath. 
 
 29 Old Sefanaia; the Fijian Herald. 
 
 30 Village Chimes. 
 
 WON OVER* SERIES. 
 
 Foolscap 8vo, cloth boards. 
 Sixpence each. 
 
 1 Afterward. By E. Search field. 
 
 2 Becky and Rubie, the Little Street Singers. 
 
 By M. E. Goulding. 
 
 3 Davy's Friend, and other Stories. By Jennie 
 
 Perrett. 
 
 4 Gilbert Guestling ; or, the Story of a Hymn Book 
 
 5 Guy Sylvester's Golden Year. 
 
 6 The Little Disciple. The Story of His Life 
 
 for Young Children. 
 
 7 Poppy's Life Service. By E. Searchfield. 
 
 8 Won Over. By Miss Hellis.
 
 CHAS. E. KELLY'S PUBLICATIONS. 29 
 THE 'NOBLE LIFE* SERIES. 
 
 Royal 16mo, illustrated, cloth, ink lettered, 
 Sixpence each. 
 
 1 Ancient Egypt : its Monuments, Worship and 
 
 People. By Rev. E. Lightwood. 
 
 2 Babes in the Basket : or, Daph and her Charge. 
 
 3 Fiji and the Friendly Isles. 
 
 4 First Year of my Life in China. 
 
 5 Giants, and How to Fight Them. By Dr. R. 
 
 Newton. 
 
 6 ' I'll Try : ' or, How a Farmer's Son became a 
 
 Captain. 
 
 7 Insect Lights and Sounds. 
 
 8 Jane Hudson, the American Girl. 
 
 9 Jew and his Tenants. By A. D. Walker. 
 
 10 History of Joseph. By T. Champness. 
 
 11 Lessons from Noble Lives, and other Stories. 
 
 12 Margery's Christmas Box. By Ruth Elliott. 
 
 13 No Gains without Pains : a True Life for Boys. 
 
 14 Peeps into the Far North : Iceland, Lapland 
 
 and Greenland. 
 
 15 Railway Pioneers : the Story of the Stephensons. 
 
 16 Robert Dawson : or, The Brave Spirit. 
 
 17 Stories of Love and Duty. For Boys and Girls. 
 
 18 Story of a Pillow. Told for Children. 
 
 19 Tarnside Evangel (The). By M. A. H. 
 
 20 Tiny Tim: a Story of London Life. By 
 
 Francis Homer. 
 
 21 Unwelcome Baby (John Todd) and other 
 
 Stories of Noble Lives early Consecrated. 
 
 22 Vignettes from English History. Norman 
 
 Conquest to Henry IV.
 
 30 A SELECTION FROM 
 
 THE 'LITTLE GUIDE' SERIES. 
 
 Imperial 32mo, cloth, boards, ink lettered. 
 Fourpence each. 
 
 1 Fragments for Young People. 
 
 2 Freddie Cleminson. 
 
 3 Jesus, History of. For Children. 
 
 4 Martin Luther, The Story of. 
 
 5 Moses, History of. 
 
 6 Precious Seed and Little Sowers. 
 
 7 Bernard, the Little Guide. 
 
 8 Fatherly Guide, Rhoda, and Fire in the Soul. 
 
 9 Kingly Breaker, Concerning Play, and Sowing 
 
 the Seed. 
 
 10 Will Brown ; or, Saved at the Eleventh Hour. 
 
 11 Little Pilgrims : Glimpses of Child Life. By 
 
 A. M. Young. 
 
 12 Muriel ; or, the Sister Mother. 
 
 13 Nature's Whispers. 
 
 14 Passages from the Life of Heinrich Stilling. 
 
 15 Wren's Nest at Wrenthorpe. 
 
 THE 'CROWN' SERIES. 
 
 16mo, cloth boards, ink lettered, Illustrated, 
 Threepence each. 
 
 1 Louis Henrie ; or, The Sister's Promise. 
 
 2 The Giants, and How to Fight Them. 
 
 3 Robert Dawson ; or, The Brave Spirit. 
 
 4 Jane Hudson, the American Girl. 
 
 5 The Jewish Twins. By Aunt Friendly. 
 
 6 The Book of Beasts. 35 Illustrations. 
 
 7 The Book of Birds. 40 Illustrations.
 
 CHAS. H. KELLY'S PUBLICATIONS. 31 
 The 'Crown* Series contd. 
 
 
 
 8 Proud in Spirit. 
 
 9 Gertrude's Bible Lesson. 
 
 10 The Rose in the Desert. 
 
 11 The Little Black Hen. 
 
 12 Martha's Hymn. 
 
 13 Nettie Mathieson. 
 
 14 The Prince in Disguise. 
 
 15 The Children on the Plains. 
 
 16 The Babes in the Basket. 
 
 17 Richard Harvey ; or, Taking a Stand. 
 
 18 Kitty King. Lessons for Little Girls. 
 
 19 Nettie's Mission. 
 
 20 Little Margery. 
 
 21 Margery's City Home. 
 
 22 The Crossing Sweeper. 
 
 23 Rose Conroy's Lessons. 
 
 24 Ned Dolan's Garret. 
 
 25 Little Henry and his Bearer. 
 
 26 Little Woodman and his Dog. 
 
 27 Johnny. Lessons for Little Boys. 
 
 28 Pictures and Stories for the Little Ones. 
 
 29 A Story of the Sea, and other Incidents. 
 
 30 Aunt Lizzie's Talks about Remarkable Fishes. 
 
 31 Three Little Folks : the Ant, the Bee, and the 
 
 Spider. 
 
 32 The Dairyman's Daughter.
 
 32 THE 'FLORAL* SERIES. 
 
 Imperial 32mo clolh, boards, ink lettered, 3d. 
 Also in cloth limp, price 2d. 
 
 1 African Girls. 
 
 2 Archie and Nellie : What They Saw and What 
 
 They Said. 
 
 3 Ants and Conies. 
 
 4 Bunyan, John. 
 
 5 Cecil Lawrence. 
 
 6 Celestine, the Blind Woman of the Pastures. 
 
 7 Kingly Breaker. 
 
 8 Crown with Gems. 
 
 9 Deserted Nestlings (The). 
 
 10 Duty Called. 
 
 11 Fifth of November (The). 
 
 12 Locusts and Spiders. 
 
 13 Happy. 
 
 14 Harry's Errand. 
 
 15 Hattie and Nancy. 
 
 16 Held Down. 
 
 17 In a Minute. By Faith Chiltern. 
 
 19 Joseph Peters, the Negro Slave. 
 
 20 Little Nan's Victory. 
 
 21 Luther, Story of. 
 
 22 Massimo of Piedmont. 
 
 24 Michael Faraday. 
 
 25 Mrs. Chester's Story. 
 
 26 Nunks ; or, Aunt Mary the Nursemaid. 
 
 27 Over the Sea and Far Away. 
 
 28 Shirley Children. 
 
 29 Sorrow on the Sea. 
 
 30 Spoiling the Vines. By 7?cy. W. W. Newton. 
 
 31 Story about Apple Trees. 
 
 33 Walter at Home and at School. 
 
 34 Will Brown ; or, Saved at the Eleventh Hour. 
 
 35 Moses, History of.
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed. 
 
 OCT 10
 
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