Honor

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HONOR A NINETEENTH CENTURY HEROINE SHE OBSERVED .. BOAT EMEROE I'ROM Till'. DEEP SHADOW OP THE OVERHANQINO TREES WITH A SOLITARY MAN THEREIN." [p. 32. HONOR A NINETEENTH CENTURY HEROINE BY ELIZABETH M. ALFORD AUTHOR OF THE FAIR MAID OF TAUNTON. "STANHURST FTC. FRONTISPIECE BY E. LUCAS LONDON S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO. 8 & 9 PATERNOSTER ROW CONTENTS. CHAP. pAGE I. The Strange Girl, .... 7 II. Musings, ... . . 18 III. Sunday at Hatheely, . . . .24 IV. The Picnic, . . . . . .33 V. An Early Tryst, . . . . .43 VI. Love or Money, . . . . .51 VII. Victoria's "At Home," . . . .60 VIII. Honor's Conquest, . . . . .72 IX. Visitors, . . . . . .80 X. A Compact, ...... 90 XI. Up the River, . . . . .98 XII. A Crisis, . . . . . .112 XIII. A New Start, . . . . .126 XIV. "New Every Morning is the Love," . . 140 XV.

Public Opinion, ..... 152 XVI. The Tide Turned, . . . . .166 XVII. Old Friends, 185 XVIII. By the Arbour, . . . . .197 v VI CONTENTS. PAS XIX. At Odds • 206 XX. Sir Philip at Hatherly, . • .215 XXI. A Friend in Need, . • • .228 XXII. New Parishioners, . 236 XXIII. Autumn Sunshine, . . ■ .256 XXIV. A Fright, 267 XXV. At the Garden Gate, . . . .279 XXVI. A Climax, 289 XXVII. Conclusion, HONOR

Chapter I. The Stkange Girl

One of those picturesque old red brick houses, so rich in colour, and contrasting so charmingly with the deep green foliage that surrounded it — such was Hatherly Hall. A quaint old house it was, with its many odd corners and cupboards, its long passages upstairs, and the fine entrance hall below, with polished oak floor, and large stained glass window. But the house is quiet now, for it is a delicious, still, glowing summer afternoon, and the family are all out of doors. Old Mr Armstrong — the squire, as he is called — is reading his Times in the rose-scented arbour at the end of yonder pretty green glade, while his good wife sits by him, knitting in hand, ready to hear any bits of news he may see fit to impart to her. Such a courteous old English gentleman is the squire, Tory and Protestant to the backbone ; and never betrayed into anything hke strong speaking, unless when touched upon either of these points, or moved to indignation by un worthy conduct in a man calling himself a gentleman.

His wife believes in him entirely. She is one of those true womanly women, growing rarer, we fear, nowadays, who never thinks of asserting herself, and hence, with her H0N0E, gentle, self-forgetful, loving ways, is reverenced by husband and children as a personification of all the virtues. Many sons had this good woman sent out into the world, who, as they fought manfully in the great battle of life, looked ever to that dear old home, and to that low-voiced mother, as their loadstars. Even when they made homes for themselves, and children grew up around them, the old love never waned, and the grandchildren too were brought up to look upon the red brick house, and its master and mistress, as amid the dearest joys of their lives. And so it comes to pass that through the summer holidays the old place resounds with children's voices, and Aunt Grace's hands are full, as tribe after tribe arrive in quick succession.

A word about this same Aunt Grace. She is the youngest of the family, and the only girl besides, and has grown up in a happy atmosphere of love, petted delight fully by both father and brothers. And Grace is a good specimen of such training. There is a sweet serenity in her face, a loving light in her eyes, and a fearless, con fiding tone in her whole manner, which bespeaks a spirit unclouded by suspicion of its fellows, untainted by any contagion with the falsities of life. As soon as she was able to toddle she had gone on Httle errands for her big brothers, and been rewarded by a frolic or caress. For years she had been her father's constant companion, trotting by his side through meadows, hop gardens, and woods, as he inspected his property around. Then had come school and school friendships, and with them a httle clouding sometimes of her clear blue sky by the discovery that every one was not so perfect as she thought, herself among the rest, when tried by crosses and disagreeables.

But the old home grew only more perfect by contrast ; and when at last school was left, and Grace came to live in the red brick house with her father and THE STRANGE GIEL. 9 mother again, she never found it dull; for though the brothers had gone, there was the idolised father to cheer and amuse, the gentle, frail mother to cherish and care for, the troops of little ones to work for and play with ; and, above all, there was Ralph, her youngest brother, still left to her — still her own, though he lived in town, and only paid flying visits frequently to the red brick house. But then these visits were delightful. He would come down laden with new books for Grace to read ; come down full of delightful talk and quiet drolleries, and leave again on Monday morning, a greater hero each time in his sister's estimation.

If Ralph Armstrong were rather selfish, rather self-indulgent, Grace did not see it. She thought him the cleverest, the most perfect of men, and clever he certainly was. He is paying one of these visits now, and is lying this brilliant Saturday afternoon on the sloping piece of lawn at the western side of the house, enjoying the delicious quiet to the full, after the bustle and confusion of London streets. A queer figure he is lying there, a battered old wide awake hat drawn half over his eyes, the inevitable meerschaum in his mouth. Ralph would be generally con sidered a plain man, I suppose, — seen in his correct London costume, decidedly so ; but there is something interesting about his appearance when he adopts this neglige attire. He has the air of a philosopher, above the conventionalities of life.

The grey eyes gaze out thoughtfully from under the old hat, and seem to look you through and through. The square jaw, the ponderous forehead, and the pe culiarly expressive mouth are so out of the common, so in keeping with the man himself and his present surroundings, that you could not pass him over as plain : grotesque, almost ugly, he may be ; but, if so, it is a clever, rugged sort of ugliness, more attractive to many than the faultless features of a less original face. Grace has a schoolfellow staying with her just now — HONOR. rather an annoyance to Ralph, who comes home to enjoy himself, he says, and not to have to do the polite. " I wouldn't have come down had I known a strange girl was here ; " so had the spoiled brother grumbled as Grace carefully broke the news to him on his arrival this morning.

" Oh, you won't mind Honor, Ralph ; she isn't a bit like most girls." " All the worse," growled he ; " strong-minded, I suppose, nineteenth century, etc. However, she may give me an idea for an article perhaps, so I'll study her, Gracie." Grace laughed quietly as she said, " You will find it a harder study than you think, I can tell you. I have been at it for five years myself, and am not much the wiser yet." So whilst Ralph is lying at a respectful distance, smoking in calm content, he is listening at the same time to the two girls, as they sit under the. shade of an old mulberry tree near, talking over their work. Away down at the foot of the pretty green meadow before them a lake sparkles in the sunshine, and a little boat is moored to the farther side, while the happy children, its late occupants, are lost in the thick wood beyond.

Grace is busy trimming a small pinafore, while Honor Rowe, her friend, is making a daisy-chain out of a great heap of ox eyed daisies lying in her lap. " Don't trouble yourself about that chain, Honor," says Grace, looking up. " Maudie is a little tyrant to you, I'm afraid." " Poor Maudie, I wouldn't disappoint her for anything. Let her have daisy-chains while they amuse her ; it won't be for long," with a sigh. " How droll you are ! " says her friend, laughing. " When she tires of them there'll be something else. I don't see anything to sigh about." "Don't you? Ah, but you don't know the world. You live in a sort of earthly paradise, and fancy, perhaps, that the waste beyond your gates is like the garden within them. I know better, unfortunately. The daisy-chains wither and are thrown away, and others take their place, and so on to utter weariness."

" But I can't fancy everyone feels like you, Honor. I am sure there are numbers of happy people in the world. You always were odd at school, you know, unlike all the rest." " Ah, but I only half guessed at it then ; I know it 7. now. " What do you know ? " " That all is vanity and vexation of spirit." " And that there is nothing new under the sun," put in Ralph. Honor looked up and flushed as she said, " Of course I did not suppose I had made any new discovery. But I found it out for myself." " Ah ! then you may lay some claim to the idea. As Wendell Holmes says, ' A thought is often original, though you have uttered it a hundred times. It has come to you over a new route, by a fresh and express train of associa tions.' If an idea strikes you as new, I suppose it must be new to you, even though it may have been a well-worn thought in the time of the patriarchs."

Honor laughed one of her rare laughs. " What a quaint idea ! " she said. " I like that. So I may be having the same thoughts that Rachel thought while she tended her sheep, and yet they may be as new to me as they were to her ! " " Yes ; and many poets who have sung the delights of calm contemplation have but echoed Isaac's sentiments probably, when he ' went out to meditate in the field at eventide ' and was met by his lovely bride." "Oh, how I wish I had lived in those happy days!" exclaimed Honor. HONOR, " What base ingratitude ! " said Ralph, who had thrown aside his pipe by this time, and drawn nearer the mulberry tree. " You, ' the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time ' ! I am shocked at you, Miss Rowe." " Yes," said Honor, with a scornful laugh, " heir of all the ages, in truth !

Heir of all the falseness, and unreality, and double-dealing, and cruelty, that have been working their way so gradually all along, till at last they have come to be taken as matters of course ; some of the inevitables of your grand nineteenth century." The girl had spoken vehemently, out of the long pent-up feelings of her heart, so that Ralph's quiet sneer stung her doubly. " Truly, Miss Rowe, your oratory does credit to your sex. I shall look forward at no distant date to hearing you in public ; and shall be reconciled to the scorn that will doubtless be hurled at myself and fellow - men by the fairness of the lips that will utter it." Grace glanced at her friend, and seeing the hot flush on her cheeks, looked reproachfully at her brother, as she said, — " Ralph, what has come over you 1 You are making yourself quite disagreeable.

I can't think why people should quarrel on such a perfect day." Ralph raised himself on his elbow, and turning to Honor, said, — " You must forgive my bearish behaviour, Miss Rowe, and make allowance for a grumpy old bachelor, who is dieted on law and London smoke for six days out of the seven." Honor looked straight into the searching grey eyes with her frank blue ones, and answered, — " It is pride, I suppose ; but I hate being laughed at, especially when I'm saying what I feel much." " I can hardly believe," said Ralph, looking at the fair face beside him, " that Miss Rowe can have had any personal experience of the falsity and cruelty she condemns." "No, I daresay not. You are not a young lady who has been two seasons out," answered Honor, bitterly. " No, I am thankful to say. I should hardly be a beUe in society," said Ralph, with a low laugh.

" Hardly," said Grace, laughing merrily ; " it would require a fairy godmother, at the very least, to make you at all presentable. Now I'm going to make tea, and you may come and fetch the cups." So Grace rose and walked to the open drawing-room window and disappeared within it. But Ralph seemed in no hurry to follow. He was watching Honor, as she was mechanically going on with her daisy-rings, her large dreamy eyes resting on the peaceful scene before her, while now and again an impatient frown would ruffle her fair brow. " Ralph, you lazy good-for-nothing ! " called Grace from the window, " come and do your duty." " Heighho ! " sighed Ralph, rising lazily ; " ' so men must work and women must weep,' you see, Miss Honor, even on a Saturday afternoon." ' ' Happy men ! " exclaimed the girl, eagerly.

" Gracie," said the brother, as he stood by her little table awaiting the pretty china cups assigned for the father, mother, and guest, " your friend is a rara avis, — a study even worth the attention of such a master mind as mine ! " " But you must not laugh at her, Ralph. It is cruel. She was always so intensely in earnest, even at school, that we girls never liked to make a joke of what she said." " Trust me ; if I hurt I will heal too. I want to pro voke her a little to bring her out. You see I am making a study from the Hfe now, and it's more difficult by far than drawing from one's own imagination." " Do you mean to put Honor into your novel, then ? " HONOR, " I don't know yet ; nous verrons." " Do you think her pretty, Ralph 1 " " Pretty ? What a preposterous idea ! She is grand, stately, noble ; but pretty 1 No ; there is nothing winning in that cold, intellectual face, with its scornful mouth, its ample forehead, and its great dreamy eyes.

One might put her on a pedestal and do homage to her, but nothing more — nor less." " So you are amused by the ' strange girl ' after all," said Grace, triumphantly, " and won't rush back to town by the night train ? Now take these two cups to the arbour first, and then come back for Honor's and your own. And Ralph did as he was bid, ever ready, as aU their children had been, to wait with willing feet on the dear old couple, who were enjoying together so peacefuHy this sweet, still afternoon, in their rose-scented bower. When Ralph returned to the mulberry tree Grace was saying, " But they can't all be idiots, you know, Honor ; surely some talk better than others 1 " " Yes, of course. But they don't talk their best j it isn't worth while to women, you know. And so we go hungering on." " Hungering for what, Miss Rowe ?

" asked Ralph, giving her the tea ; " would a macaroon be any help 1 " offering her some. " No, thank you," rephed Honor, smiHng in spite of herself. " You find me grumbling stiU. It was food for thought I was speaking of, and the lack of it in society. I assure you I have listened to a repetition of the same remarks, and made similar rejoinders, to so many partners sometimes during an evening, that I have felt half dazed and foolish at the end of it ! " " Poor partners ! " said Ralph, in a tone of pity. " Yes, you may well say that, for I never help them a bit. But I have no smaU talk, and can't get up an interest on any subject that I don't care two straws about, just on the spur of the moment. I know I am dishked, but I am afraid I don't much care." " Don't care about being liked ! " exclaimed Ralph, with an incredulous raising of his eyebrows.

" Who ever heard of a young lady yet not wishing to be popular 1 " " Now don't you sneer at women, sir, for that," put in Grace, playfully ; " you know very well that men care about it quite as much in their own way, and enjoy the leaders on their grand speeches in the Times." " Oh, no ! " cried Honor, almost entreatingly ; " please don't make me believe that. It would be dreadful to think that the reformers of society were false too, as well as the society they try to reform." The girl looked at Ralph so earnestly, as she pleaded for his denial of the charge, that he was shaken out of his cool imperturbability, and said deprecatingly, — ' ' You can't expect pure gold in such vessels of clay, Miss Honor, but I really believe there is genuine ore amid the dross. Perhaps you can hardly understand the tempta tion of having a mighty nation hanging on your words ; and yet that is the goal to which many a young writer or orator aspires in his own heart, and to which he may attain if he can but rivet the popular ear."

Honor's dreamy eyes Ht up for a moment, as she said, "I can picture the fascination of being enabled to utter great truths, and, in uttering, to feel you are carrying the world with you. But surely it would be the triumph of truth, not your own petty exaltation, that would enrapture you?" " A little of both, I suspect," answered Ralph, with a covert glance of admiration at the girl's kindling face. ' You will find, as you know more of the world, that people are great mixtures for the most part, neither so HONOR. utterly bad nor so perfectly good as dreamers are apt to imagine." " Ah ! here come the children," cried Grace. " Suppose we leave off our discussion of men and manners, and go and have a row on the lake 1 " The suggestion was adopted, and the three stroUed down across the sloping meadows to the sparkling lake, meeting the delighted children on the bank.

" Oh, Miss Honor, my daisy-chain ! " exclaimed Maud, nearly faUing into the water in her eagerness to receive it from Honor's hands. " Are you going in the boat, Uncle Ralph 1 Oh, let me come too, please ! " Pretty, brown-eyed, rosy-cheeked Maudie knew how to get over most people — grave, funny Uncle Ralph in especial — so she had her own way. And " Me too," " Me too," coming piteously from Claud and Ethel, all three children tumbled into the boat again, and were soon skimming the surface of the water in high dehght, propelled by Ralph's strong arms. If Ralph had wanted to appear to advantage in the eyes of his sister's friend, he had not chosen badly. He was a well-built, athletic man, and the ease with which he puUed his long strokes, and sent the somewhat heavy boat-load rapidly over the water, impressed an onlooker with a sense of quiet power in the man.

Power was the predominant impression Ralph made when seen thus at his ease — power of mind and body; and Honor, who appreciated power, gazed admiringly at the strongly marked, grotesque face, and easy movements of the rower. Presently they slackened speed, and Grace said, laughing, — " That was a little show-off of Ralph's. You perceive he is not above love of applause. But as we are not running a race, suppose we take it easily awhile, and look about us." So Ralph lay on his oars and they drifted — drifted in under the wooded banks, where alder branches dipped their tips in the refreshing water, and luxuriant mosses carpeted the bank ; then out again from the shadow into the sun- Hght, where Maudie and Ethel clapped their hands in delight at the sight of a large water-lily, and Claud nearly toppled over the side of the boat in his efforts at hand-fishing.

And so they spent a happy hour, not talking much, save for the merry chatter of the children ; just letting sweet Nature pour her delicious draughts of beauty into their hearts, as she will if we only allow her. To Honor this calm raising of the spirit in harmony with the beauty of earth and sky was a revelation. She seemed carried beyond herself, — beyond her world of disappointment and disgust.- She felt a vague aspiration after the highest and best, an elevation of heart which was the more intense to her, from its contrast to her usual mood of dissatisfied longing. Grace looked at her calm, stiU face, and never guessed at the enthusiasm within. Maudie was afraid Miss Honor was tired, because she was so quiet. Ralph stretched out his arm as they passed a corner blue with bright-eyed water forget-me-nots, and gathering a handful, threw them, dripping, into Honor's lap.

She smiled her thanks, and he was satisfied. Just then the first dinner-bell rang, and there was a hurrying to the meadow-bank, and a hastening back to the red brick house, to make a hurried toilet for dinner. But Honor found time to dry and press some of the forget-me nots, and to lay them in a book, writing this inscription underneath, — " ' The world is beautiful, God is over all, And His image is not utterly defaced in man.' In memoria-m. Hatherly Lake, June 2, 18 — ." Then she fastened the rest of the bunch into a braid of her "olden hair, and went down to dinner. B

Chapter II. Musings

The early household has retired. Punctually as the clock strikes ten the squire reads the short family prayers with which each day is closed. Then the servants withdraw to their slumbers, and the various members of the family scatter, if not to bed, yet to their own private sanctums. Ralph Armstrong has a den downstairs, where he is permitted to smoke ad libitum, and to sit up if he choose till morning. There he is now, lounging in his armchair, in a rough old coat and gorgeous smoking-cap, the latter Grace's handiwork. His beloved meerschaum is between his lips, and on the table before him stand writing materials and a lamp. He rouses himself presently, draws towards him a manuscript book of the journal order, and begins writing vigorously. "June 2nd, Hatlierly. — Wonders will never cease.

I have met with a superior woman to-day, and am interested. Not superior in the sense that the sweet mother and Gracie are so, but in a much more troublesome way. A woman with a noble intellect, high aspirations, and scornful in tolerance of shams. And yet one who, I suspect, lives in an atmosphere of petty shams and sordid schemes. What wonder if such a nature in such unhealthy atriiosphere should grow to a monstrosity, and develop into one of MUSINGS. 19 those unwomanly, self-asserting women, of whom the world is growing weary ? " Marriage might help her — marriage with an equal or superior ; but from what I guess of her surroundings, that is little likely to happen. The frequenters of balls would hardly satisfy such a woman. Moreover, hers is not a susceptible nature, I imagine. There are depths of enthu siasm and passion perchance beneath the calm exterior, but it is an intellectual enthusiasm — a passion for justice and truth.

And yet, what a grand woman she would be, could aU the reserves of her untouched heart be drawn out in a great love ! " Heighho ! Ralph Armstrong, shut up, wUl you ? What rhapsodical nonsense would you like to write next 1 You'll be walking dehberately into the grand passion yourself if you don't look alive, and ruin your prospects for life, to say the least of it. " Love, indeed ! I thought you had put away all such rubbish from your mind long ago ; that you were married to fame, and meant to win your way to the top of the ladder, no matter what inclinations had to be crushed en route. You'd best tumble into bed as fast as you can, and get back to town by the first train on Monday morning. I had no idea you were such a sentimental idiot." With which pohte language Ralph shut his book, shook the ashes out of his pipe, and betook himself to his chamber.

Grace and Honor meantime had been having their talk, though in a more audible manner. Grace had come to Honor's room, equipped in her pretty pink dressing-gown, and had found her friend still in her white evening-dress, seated at the open window. " You look Hke a statue of Minerva, Honor, as you sit there, with your stately head resting on your hand," said Grace, in her pleasant, playful way. " Do you remember how frightened I was at school once, when the girls made HONOR. a tableau of you, and pretended you had really turned into stone ? I remember how tremblingly I went near to touch you, and how you threw y6ur arms round my neck to re assure me, when you saw I was ready to cry." " Did I, Gracie ?" said Honor. " You were always my true little friend. I can never talk to any one as I do to you, and it is such a relief."

The two girls put out their lights, and sat opposite each other at the low open casement. There was stiU a pale light in the western sky, which would hardly fade quite away till a warmer tint should flush in the east, heralding the quick-returning sun. The stars looked faintly on the dimly lit earth from out the great vault overhead. A fragrant scent compounded from many sleepless flowers came in at the open window, borne on the soft night air. A delicious calm seemed to have faUen upon everything, — on the spirits of the girls themselves above alL They sat silent for a time, each thinking her own thoughts. At last Grace spoke : — " I feel half frightened sometimes at my happiness," she said ; " half afraid that I am having my good things in this world. Life is so beautiful." Honor looked at the girl's sweet face, its bright eyes glistening with starting tears, and said, — " I think life is beautiful to you because you are good, and I suppose it is beautiful to be good.

Perhaps," she added, sadly, " it may be my fault that life looks so deformed to me." " Ah, but our lots are different, Honor. I know your home, and I know mine. I don't think I coidd live in a house without love." " Certainly your people are unlike any I ever met with before ; but taking the general run, I don't suppose our home is below the average in amiability," said Honor. " Mamma is considered a pattern mother, for she introduces MUSINGS. 21 her daughters well, and does her best to get 'them settled. If they won't settle it isn't her fault, you see ; and with two dowerless daughters still on hand, it must be rather aggravating." " But Blanch made a grand match," said Grace. " Ah, yes, poor Blanch ! she sacrificed herself with due pomp and splendour," said Honor, bitterly. " Oh, Grace, you should see her now.

You remember her at school, so witty and bright, so sparkling in her beauty. The wit is turned into satire now, the brightness into gloom, the sparkling beauty to statue-like indifference. She could never love Sir John ! how could she ? A weak-minded, cross-grained stripling, who had set his obstinate Httle mind on carrying off the belle of the season. Poor Blanch, she held out as long as she could, but mamma was too much for her. Oh, how I hate that word ' duty,' as I have heard it used ! Duty, to degrade your whole life, to warp aU the faculties God has given you ! Why can't we work if we are poor 1 — any honest work. I'd rather crack stones than marry a Sir John Rodney myself, with all his thousands a year. But no, we mustn't work ; that would be unlady- Hke. We may seU ourselves, but we mustn't seU anything else.