Glenwood Manor-House. A novel

Chapter I

The place is London, the street Ormond Street, and the immediate scene is a room in one of the smallest of the houses. The furniture, as well as the dresses of those who occupy it, indicate a struggle with circumstances. Seated at a table is a lady with an open letter in her hand ; her age may be about forty ; her face has the expression of long suffering, and just now it is paler than usual. Her two daughters are watching as she reads. The sisters are sure the letter contains something of deep interest, and they wait in earnest expectation to hear what it is. When she had finished reading, Mrs. Maitland paused, she glanced at her daughters, and then read the letter aloud : — " Manor-house, Glenwood. " My good Madam, — After the cessation of intercourse for so many years, taking likewise into consideration the little intercourse there had been before that cessation, it may be matter of surprise that I should write to you at this present time.

But I do not forget the degree of consanguinity in which you stand to myself, you being the great niece of my half sister ; and I wish you to take into your consideration a proposal which I doubt not will be as gladly received by B you as it is kindly intended by me. You have two daughters, and it is about one of these that I write to you. My dear wife's state of health is very precarious, and it is not fitting that she should be left alone, as she is at times necessitated to be, when I am called to the discharge of my magisterial duties. Now I am wishful that she should be provided with an eligible companion, and it seems to me that in no way could I do more to benefit you, while at the same time in accordance with my own wishes, than to offer such a position to one of your daughters. As I have not seen either of them, it is a matter of no choice to me as to which one it may best please you to send, therefore the decision must depend on you.

Whatever may be the expense of suitable equipment shall be by me defrayed. Waiting your answer, and with goodwill to you, as well as to those whom this letter may concern, " I am, my good Madam, " Your well-wisher, " Jonas Kingley." The voice of the mother faltered as she read, and again she glanced at her daughters ; then folded up the letter, but did not speak. " Mother !" said the elder of the girls. " Mother !" said the younger sister. The words were the same, but the tones how greatly different! The first expressed eager entreaty; it said as distinctly as tone could say, "Let me go!" The second was tender apprehensiveness — " Do not send me from you !" They were tones indicative of the character of each ; Mrs. Maitland understood them, for the mother was strong in her heart. Again there was a pause.

Helen, the elder sister, was the first to speak. "Oh, mother, how delighted I am! Mother dear, do say that you will send me !" The gathering tears began to stream as Mrs. Maitland regarded her with reproachful tenderness. " And would you be so glad to leave us, Helen — to go so far away from Edith and from me?" "But I'm sure it would be wrong to throw away an offer such as this. I should not love you nor Edith the less because of being away from you ; besides, I daresay I might come home sometimes — not but that this home would seem duller than ever then. Why do you cry, mother ? I 'm sure there is nothing to cry about in such joj'ful news as this is. And as to Edith going — " " Edith would never wish to leave her mother," interrupted Mrs. Maitland ; " it would be a hard trial to part with either of you ; but if — " " If ! — oh, mother !

I don't think that such an offer admits of an ' if.' " " It grieves me to hear you talk so lightly of a separation that would probably be a very long one ; but, Helen, if you and Edith were known to Mr. Kingley, which do you think he would wish me to send?" " Dear mother," said Edith, " you know that I could never go away from you ; and were it possible that I could wish to do so, is not Helen the oldest?" " Yes," said Helen; " and is not that claim enough with out any other? I'm sure it's only right that — " There was a loud knock at the house-door. Helen started ; she became red and pale in an instant with the effort to sup press her rising passion, but the passion was suppressed, and when "Miss Horton" was announced, she welcomed her with a placid smile. Miss Horton was some years past the meridian of life ; her figure was short, erect, and precise ; her manner decisive and abrupt.

She entered as one having authority, and, casting around a rapid glance of inquiry, darted on to a ehair. " Anything amiss ?" b2 Mrs. Maitland, without speaking, held the letter towards her. Miss Horton took it, and, hastily unfolding it, ex claimed in an accent of surprise — ■ " From Glenwood ! from Mr. Kingley ! ' She read the letter, threw it open on the table, started from her chair, and, rubbing her hands, began to walk lip and down the room. " Well, this is satisfactory ! — this is to the purpose ! — nothing could do better !— such an introduction ! And now," stopping abruptly, " pray tell me how this came about, and what communication you have had with Glenwood." " None for five years ; — none since I wrote to inform Mr. Kingley that I had not, as was supposed, left England. To that letter I never received an answer ; and, being unwil ling to offer explanation, and aware of his strong prejudices, I concluded he did not wish to resume the intercourse."

" A most fortunate circumstance that he has resumed it ; there's no telling what may be the consequence. Why, Helen, I'm surprised to see you take it so quietly." Helen glanced at Edith, and there was an expression of self-sacrifice in the glance. Miss Horton understood it. "Oh! as to Edith, that's quite out of the question; that would never do — quite impossible." Helen looked amiable resignation. " Why," continued Miss Horton, provoked at her silence, " you don't mean to say that you would not like to go ! " Then, turning to Mrs. Maitland, " Surely you will not lose an opportunity such as this?" Mrs. Maitland had been struggling to restrain her tears ; she did not trust herself to speak. " My mother," said Helen, " has been excited ; indeed, this is altogether so unexpected, that — " "Very extraordinary!" exclaimed Miss Horton, looking puzzled ; " can't understand it at all."

She turned interrogatively to Edith, but Edith remained silent. " Very extraordinary ! " she repeated, as she rose to depart; then passing Edith with a look of stern displeasure, and a very abrupt " Good morning !" she darted towards the door, but, before leaving the room, she turned again, and said em phatically, " The letter must be answered." The next day the letter was answered, and Helen is happy, for she is going to Glenwood.

Chapter II

The scene changes to an old manor-house in Glenwood Forest. The forest occupies an extensive district in the East Riding of Yorkshire ; and though now intersected by a public road, the more retired parts present every variety of forest scenery. The Manor-house is a quarter of a mile from the high road leading to the town of Merton, from which it is at the distance of two miles. It is an ancient irregular structure, and of very considerable extent. There is a stone, on which the characters, almost effaced by time, can still be traced, testifying it to have been built in the reign of Elizabeth, and given by her to an ancestor of the present proprietor, in ac knowledgment of services rendered in war. Large as were its original dimensions, it had continued to receive additions from the successive occupiers, which, being made in accordance with their own especial requirements rather than with reference to the external structure of the building, its claims to uniformity are lost.

Yet until the Manor-house came into possession of its present owner, in each of the successive additions some regard had been paid to the style of the original structure, in so far as related to its architecture. But in the more recent erections, including a spacious dining and drawing-room, this adaptation was totally disregarded, and these rooms were built in all re spects in conformity with modern taste. Such furniture as had escaped the dilapidation of time was in character with the antiquity of the room in which it stood. In the carving of the massive cabinets and cumbrous chairs it would be almost possible to trace the progress in the art of carving, from some of the earlier specimens, down to the latest period of the elaboration of such workmanship, before it was replaced by the more showy but less substantial ornaments of recent times.

In the furnishing of the modern part there was great scope for the exercise of taste, and the result was the production of two rooms as magnificently furnished as any in the county. Mr. Kingley, or, as he was usually called, Mr. Justice Kingley, the present proprietor of the Manor-house, was what would be called a member of the old school; who, though now very considerably advanced in years, would unwillingly have renounced the beauship by which that school was characterised. In early life he had been in the army. His favourite theme was still the King of Prussia, telling when, as a child, he had once sat upon the King of Prussia's knee ; and how this same King of Prussia had given a wonderful snuff-box to some great man ; how that great man had afterwards be queathed it to the Earl of M ; and how the Earl of M had presented it to his brother, Colonel Kingley, till, at last, it had become his own.

Yes, this wonderful snuff box really did now belong to Mr. Justice Kingley ! There it stood, with its silver rims and graven letters, proclaiming how it had been handed about, each additional rim, as it had been added by the successive donors, tending to disfigure the original shape ; — there it stood to tell its own history. In height Mr. Justice Kingley was somewhat below the middle stature ; yes, he was decidedly short, and there was no subject on which he was more tenacious. His complexion inclined a little to the florid, his nose a little to the snub, and his mouth, though capable of expressing kindly feeling, which it very often did express, was yet a peculiar mouth, and indicated no disinclination to be the recipient of any of the good things that the table might present. His eyes were small and inexpressive ; the colour a colourless grey.

The general expression of the countenance was not that of intel lect — it was, indeed, far otherwise ; yet, fenced up in the paraphernalia of self-created state, he was unapproachable on this point. He had a way peculiarly his own of blunting every probe that attempted to fathom the shallows. In the exemplification of self-evident truths he was an unrivalled master, and as, fortunately for him, the subjects are so numerous as to be inexhaustible, there was no danger of his con versation coming to an end. In Mr. Justice Kingley the powder -tax had one of its last supporters. One hour before the ringing of the dinner-bell, punctual to the instant, came the hairdresser, with all necessary preparations for making a presentable head. Dressing the hair and fixing the tail was a very long operation indeed ; and there was one particular curl that would always prove refractory, and which took more time to fix than did the powdering, and frizzling, and perfuming of the whole.

It must be placed, and it must be trained to remain stationary over the slight blemish of an inglorious wart, to remove which all measures had proved ineffectual. The operation over, and still in dressing-gown attire, Mr. Justice Kingley would proceed towards the kitchen. The fish-sauce must be tasted — he had an exquisite taste in sauces of every description, but about fish-sauce, oh ! he was very particular indeed — so difficult it was to get it up to the exact point ! At last it is right, and he returns to finish his toilet. The style of his costume is original, uniting what is obso lete to certain peculiarities in his own taste best calculated to display those points in his figure of which he is apt to be a little vain. He is rather proud of his calves, and, in total disregard to the fashion of the day, in order to display them to the best advantage, he is never seen in anything but what he calls tights.

And then his waistcoats ! He persisted that he had one which, if not actually worn by the King of Prussia, was made after the exact pattern of one the King of Prussia had worn. It was very short and very shining, but he liked short waistcoats. His favourite colour for coats was blue — a little too bright perhaps to suit modern taste ; and he was fanciful about buttons — in this respect very hard to please indeed. It was whispered that on one occasion he had actually taken a journey to London, with no other object than to procure some particular kind of button for some par ticular coat — and this, too, at a time when the metropolis was by no means so easy of access as it is at present. The shirt frill was a matter of great research ; it was deep and full, and stiffened to a nicety, so that it never failed to retain its standing out position.

In fact, when Mr. Justice Kingley stood before his mirror, it reflected a composite costume unlike anything in this or in any former century. Thus equipped, and shaking a cambric handkerchief, redolent of a perfume that had been in high favour with the King of Prussia, he would descend to the drawing-room precisely five minutes before the announcement of dinner ; to which, whether there was company or whether they were alone, he conducted his lady with ceremonious politeness. He chose to do this as a public testimony of the admiration which he retained for her beauty. Mr. Justice Kingley enjoyed a good dinner, as who does not ? He certainly was — yes, it must be confessed — he cer tainly was an epicure ; but so thoroughly unselfish was his epicurean propensity, that perhaps he never appeared to greater advantage than when seated at the head of his own table.

Often would he push his plate pettishly away, though he might just have been helped to his favourite dish, and, striking the table with the handles 'of his knife and fork, would exclaim to some one of his guests, " Why ! you don't seem up to the mark !" Port was the only wine in which the Justice indulged, and he prided himself on having the best port in the county ; indeed, as he sat after dinner, glass in hand, holding it up to the light, and expatiating on its rare qualities, one might have thought that it was not only the best port in the county, but that it was the product of some especial vintage of which he had the monopoly. He never, on any occasion, exceeded his bottle a day, but that he invariably took ; and so fearful was he of increasing or diminishing the precise measure, that, his peculiarity in this respect being known, whether at home or abroad his bottle remained stationary.

The only books which the Justice had been seen to open during the course of many years were the " Court Guide," and a volume of the " British Essayists." His pronunciation of the latter word was somewhat peculiar — he would persist in laying a strong emphasis on the second vowel, though, by so doing, he gave unconsciously to his favourite work a signi fication totally differing from his idea of it's merits ; for, in his opinion, so far from being essayists, the writers of those volumes had accomplished what no writers since their time had ever done — they were deserving of the veneration of posterity. Indeed, in a literary fervour he was once known to assert, forgetful of the presence of a living author, that every writer who had attained eminence since the time of the " British Essayists " had taken his notions from those great originals — that such writers had only polluted the fountain, and that all others had written trash.

The Justice's notion of the intellectual capacity of women had by no means kept pace with the progress of the age. He divided all womankind into two distinct classes, but in respect to their mental powers they were essentially the same. The first class were butterflies, born to sport in a sunbeam, to flap their brilliant wings with no other object in life than to fascinate the lord and master — man ; and when that object should be accomplished, their remaining duty was to keep their wings untarnished, and to emit their rays only at his bidding. The other class were drudges ; no matter what their station in society, if they did not possess beauty, that first requisite of woman, they were fit for nothing but to administer to the wants and comforts of those who did — the shade, and not the sunshine, must be their lot.

With notions like these, it may be supposed that Mrs. Justice Kingley was selected from the former class. She was one to do honour to such choice. She was indeed supremely beautiful. Her life had been an exemplification of her husband's notions of what a beautiful woman's life ought to be — it had been a sacrifice to the Graces, her game the game of hearts. She had sported with hearts as children sport with foot-balls, her own remaining cold and insensible to everything but worldly grandeur. And this angelic creature is Mr. Kingley's wife. No matter how many years it is since that happy day when first he called her so, it is long enough to have enabled him to judge if his theory with respect to woman is calculated to contribute to the happiness of domestic life. In what degree experience may have altered his views never can be known.

He had a high sense of conjugal obli gation. Marriage he considered the great event of life, and his notions of the duties it imposes were conscientiously and rigidly severe. He married " for better and for worse," and, whatever the consequences, he would endure until the end. The lady of his choice, her mission being accomplished, and the game of hearts ended, had no further object in life. The continued adoration and adulation of the one was in sufficient to gratify the vain craving for admiration from the many. Her mind became a vacuum, her temper imperious and tyrannical, but still he endured. He thought of her as of the same beautiful creature she had once been — he almost believed that she was so. He regarded her proudly and doatingly, for was she not his — hit wife?

Chapter III

It is an evening in October ; the fire is burning brightly in the old oak dining-room ; and Mr. Kingley has come to a pause in the Morning Post. He has taken off his spectacles. Mrs. Kingley, who has been walking about the room with a step bordering on impatience, stops when the newspaper is put down, and resumes her chair near the fire. " Well, my love ?" said Mr. Kingley, looking at her kindly. "Well!" said Mrs. Kingley; "I wish it were well; I wish it may turn out to be well !" "My dear !" (in a tone at once conciliatory and expostu latory- — it was very expressive). " It does not signify, Mr. Kingley, I will have my own way : I wont submit to it !" " Submit to what, my love ?" "I say I wont submit to have a girl, coming from nobody knows where, forced upon me in this manner. Mr. Kingley, I will have my own way !"

" And so you have, my dear ; it was your own way that this young lady should be invited. I am sure, my love, it was your wish that — " " Yes, it was my wish to have some one to come when she's called, to speak when she's spoken to, and to be sent off when she 's not wanted ; that was my wish. But to have a girl who expects to sit at my table, mix with my company, to be a perpetual hanger-on, and a perpetual nuisance — that is what I do not wish Mr. Kingley ; and I wont submit to it ! " "My dear!" (in a conciliatory tone) "Miss Helen Mait land is a distant connexion of mine; and how can it be otherwise than that any connexion of mine" (here his man ner was very dignified) " should be treated otherwise than as a connexion?" " Very well, Mr. Kingley, do as you please — do as you please !" Let it be told to the infinite credit of the really kind man, though somewhat inexorable magistrate, that kindness to his relations was a point in which he would admit no interfer ence — the only one he had persisted in opposing to the will of Mrs. Kingley.

Her heart was impervious to the sweet charities of life ; had her maternal affections been called into play it might have been otherwise, but Heaven had never blessed her with a child. There was silence for some moments ; it was broken by the beating of Mrs. Kingley's hand on the table, and by a quick, short catching in her breathing. Apprehensive of coming hysterics, for they were ever at command, and often put into requisition when any point was to be gained, Mr. Kingley once more attempted to still the gathering storm. " Indeed, my dear, if I had been aware of such objections — but really, my love, I thought — " " You thought, Mr. Kingley ! — very wTell, very well ; you may think as you please, but I will not submit to it ! " She had thrown off the spasmodic affection. "Take the consequences — take the consequences!"

Notwithstanding the doating indulgence with which Mr. Kingley had habituated himself to bear, there was a certain point beyond which he would not bear ; this point was approaching, and Mrs. Kingley marked the gathering stern ness. He left the room, and " It does not signify, I wont — " remained a fragmental sentence. It was unusual for Mr. Kingley to leave the room ; he never did so, unless under momentary irritation, till he had come to the end of his daily task — the Morning Post, which he read regularly through, advertisements inclusive ; nor did he ever swerve from this usual routine, however important " the latest intelligence " might be — he liked to take things in their course. "When he approached the door, Mrs. Kingley became conscious that she had gone too far. Half an hour passed, and still the Morning Post lay on the table.

During this interval her hand had resumed its beatings. At length, taking up a novel, which a servant had placed beside her, she began at the third volume ; but though her eyes were on the book, and she turned over the leaves, the occasional exclamation, " It does not signify," proved that her thoughts were on the wander. It was a characteristic of Mr. Kingley's kindly nature that it was he who had sent in the books, which he had chanced to see on the hall table when in progress to the justice-room. This "justice-room," or, as it was originally called, this " justice's-room," was Mr. Kingley's sanctum ; retired within its precincts, here he admitted of no interruption but on business exclusively magisterial ; and being very tenacious as to the impartiality of his decrees, he had rather favoured the different signification given by the omission of the apos trophetic " s." This room was the largest in the more ancient part of the house, and belonged to the original building.

The wainscot was of oak, and it contained several massive pieces of furniture carved in the same material. There was GLENWOOD MANOR HOUSE. a large Noah's ark chest, the depository for title-deeds, wills, and incomprehensible parchments that had been accumu lating for generations. There was a cabinet in the same kind of carving ; and there were large cumbersome chairs looking very much like specimens of antediluvian workman ship. Mixed with these were numerous articles of splendid modern furniture, so out of keeping that they tended to give the room a character somewhat approaching the grotesque. It was an hour later than usual when Mr. and Mrs. Kingley met at the tea-table. A glance sufficed to convince Mr. Kingley that his reproof had had favourable results, and had silenced further outward demonstrations of opposition ; but the feeling against "the connexion" continued to work on Mrs. Kingley's mind.

Meantime, that relation, elate with expectation, is in pro gress to the Manor-house. On parting with her mother and sister, " some natural tears she shed, but wiped them soon." During the first part of the journey, she continued to be oppressed by a sadness she had never felt before. Then the memory of many kindnesses rushed to her mind — those little daily kindnesses that affection only can demonstrate. They were unappreciated at the time, and now she is going far beyond their reach. She dwelt on her mother's last sorrowing look — on her sister's tearful eyes as the coach hurried her away ; she was softened and subdued. Gra dually those impressions faded away, the past was forgotten, and the future only occupied her thoughts. She was about to enter the portal which she trusted would lead to that world so long the object of her ambition, but to which she had anticipated no means of access.

The carriage has been sent to meet her at Merton, and now it is progressing among the old forest-trees, now it enters the gate leading to the long avenue, and now it stops at the door. At the sound of carriage-wheels Mr. Kingley went into the hall ; he intended that his reception should be an impressive one — it was to combine the dignity of the magistrate with the good wishes of a relation. He must not be too gracious, that might raise false expectations; he wished his manner to convey a great deal — indeed, he wished it to express, " Though I have the kindness to receive you into my house, you must not presume, you must remember the wide difference between your position and mine. I am willing to acknowledge you as a relation, but you must receive the acknowledgment with due propriety, and, above all, you must never forget that I am a magistrate."

Difficult as was the task he had imposed on himself, he was on the whole tolerably successful in its execution, for Helen did receive very much such an impression as he intended, and she adapted herself accordingly ; — indeed, one of the most striking traits in her character was a certain facility of adaptation, and tact to perceive just the kind of adaptation that circumstances required. " And now," continued the Justice, " let me present you to Mrs. Kingley;" he pronounced the name with due emphasis, and he led the w-ay. Mrs. Kingley w7as in the drawing-room ; she was walking up and down in a state of subdued excitement. For some time she had been pondering as to what would be her most imposing mode of reception ; but by no means would she have admitted, even to herself, that it was of " any consequence."

It so chanced that they were going that evening to a dinner-party at Forest Hall, but Mrs. Kingley still suffering from the effects of the preceding night's agitation, had gone to her toilet with unusual disinclination ; yet she went, not withstanding, an hour earlier than the wonted time, in order that it might be satisfactorily completed before Helen's arrival. She was vexed that the coming of "this girl" should have power in any way to influence her actions ; but she could not but be conscious that it had power when, instead of putting on the black-satin dress which her maid had placed in readiness, she ordered her to bring the crimson velvet and the pearl tiara. The maid looked surprised, for she knew "Missis" was only going to a " dowager -party," but she did her bidding. Thus arrayed in a costume that set off her magnificent figure to the best advantage, she certainly did " look a queen."