Forestwyk; or, Ten years after

Front matter

FORESTWYK BY THE SAME AUTHOR. Uniform with " Forestwyk." ALFREDA HOLME. A Story of Australian Life. 4th edition. Crown 8vo. Cloth, 3*. 6d. "Daily Chronicle" says: "It is both graceful and pathetic, and is written with exquisite taste and expression." JONATHAN MERLE. A West Country Story of the Times. 6th edition. Crown Svo. Cloth, 3-r. 6d. " The Spectator " says : " Rich in character and incident, and as charming in substance as it is elevated in tone." ZACHARY BROUGH'S VENTURE. Crown 8vo. Cloth, 3*. 6,1. " The Academy " says : " The whole tone of the narrative is of an elevating order, and the style in which it is written is clear and effective." FORESTWYK : or, Ten Years After. Crown 8vo. Cloth, y. 6d. E.C FORESTWYK OR TEN YEARS AFTER BY ELISABETH BOYD BAYLY Author of " Zachary B rough's Venture," "Jonathan Merle," "Alfredo Holme," etc. SANS PEUR. ET SANS REPROCHE LONDON JARROLD & SONS, io & n, WARWICK LANE, [All Rights Reserved]

Preface

. The actors in Forestwyk have already appeared in Zachary Brough's Venture ; but they are introduced fully enough for their story to be quite clear to those who here make their acquaintance for the first time. As before, wherever social subjects are touched, I have drawn only from facts that were either obtained first-hand or could be strictly verified — the former, in nearly all the ex periences put into the mouths of working-men. Yet, on its darker side, the picture can hardly be called a true one, for the half — nay, the hundredth part, has not been told. A few abridgments and additions have been made, since the story appeared in serial form. October, 1896. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. COMING HOME 9 II. FATHER AND SON 19 III. MR. BROUGH 32 IV. TWO HOUSEHOLDS 41 V. ASLAUGA ! 50 VI. A GLANCE THROUGH EIGHT YEARS 55 VII.

MRS. ROHAN'S GARDEN-PARTY 65 VIII. MR. HARDWOOD'S SECRETARY 76 IX. IN THE LEAS AGAIN 86 X. ANOTHER OLD FRIEND 98 XI. MOLLIE 106 XII. THE HEAD OF A FAMILY 114 XIII. AN OLD FIRE LIGHTS UP AGAIN 126 XIV. THE HIND AND THE SONG I36 XV. BESIDE THE REPTILE HOUSE I52 XVI. WOODSIDE AGAIN J66 XVII. THE ZINCALA I73 XVIII. THE PICTURE l87 XIX. THE MATCH J93 CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XX. OUT ON THE DOWN 202 XXI. SATURDAY NIGHT 209 XXII. SUNDAY MORNING 2l8 XXIII. KATIE 229 XXIV. CHRIS TAKES COUNSEL 24t XXV. IN A CIVILISED COUNTRY 250 XXVI. IN THE GREENWOOD 260 XXVII. BEFORE THE JUSTICES 271 XXVIII. JUSTICE WINKING 280 XXIX. WORTH WHILE 293 XXX. BEFORE THE JUDGE 298 XXXI. AFTER THE VERDICT 311 XXXII. A MEETING 322 XXXIII. BY THE OLD GARRET WINDOW 327 XXXIV. FOR EVER AND EVER 337 XXXV. THE FLOOD 347 XXXVI. THE LAST FORESTWYK.

Chapter I. Coming Home

A fellow of this temper, whose face is not worth sun-burning, that never looks in his glass for anything he sees there. — King Henry V. The up-express from Plymouth stopped at the Forestwyk station, and discharged its contingent of passengers— among them a big, heavy-looking young man, six feet one, and broad in proportion, with a round face, small greyish-blue eyes, and a wide mouth. He wore a sandy-brown suit, with conspicuous creased lines down the arms and legs. His hair and moustache and close-cropped whiskers were of a dull light brown, which gave no relief to the fierce red of his complexion, tanned by five years of outdoor life in Australia, with a cold wind coming up Channel to finish the dye. This was Christopher Gundry, whose father was now the largest builder in the ancient, hill girt, West-country town of Forestwyk.

Christopher had not lived at home for seven years. At eighteen he had been sent to works connected with a mine in Wales. His father cut off his own right hand in parting from him, but he wanted the boy to learn something beyond mere house-building. After two years there, Christopher went to Queensland, and thence to Wallaboo, one of the dreariest mining districts in Australia, where he superintended the making of reservoirs on the hills, to hold the water supply for growing townships on the plain below. The well-water there FORESTWYK. 10 was brackish, and human life and health depended on the conservation of rain-water, in a land of frequent droughts. The nature of the soil, and the fury of the rain when it fell, rendered the task exceptionally difficult. Tanks made at enormous cost in a neighbouring district, had leaked after all, and failed.

A spirited young engineer then came forward with a new scheme for Wallaboo. "I believe I can guarantee success," he said, "if you can find me a man to guarantee every inch ofthe work." " I know your man," answered one of the promoters, " but you can't get him till the Railway is done. He is tunnelling there now, and the men call him ' Never-say die.'" This was no other than Chris, as he was commonly called. He went to Wallaboo : the work was carried through tri umphantly, and Chris came home with his pockets well lined, after having to refuse as many offers as a Baltimore belle before he left Australian shores. He was throwing up fine prospects ; but home-sickness had seized on him, and his father wrote that he was wanted at home to see after the others, "especially Joe," his younger brother.

After that, all the gold in the colony would not have kept him away. It was near the middle of April in a late spring. The trees were still brown, save for a faint flush of green or pale bronze here and there, in sheltered places. Chris walked slowly up the well-remembered VVyk road. Shadows floated over the great green hills before him, and swept along the street, leaving gleams of sunlight on the spring flowers and bits of lawn in little front gardens. Oh, the green grass ! He was obliged to stop and feast his eyes on it, after three years on the bare hills of Wallaboo. Then fear would seize him, and hasten him on. His last news from home was three months old ; his first news in Australia had been of the death of his youngest brother, and the recollection made this hour one of keen suspense.

He FORESTWYK. 11 resolved to go first to the building-yard in Friar's Combe Road, and hear tidings there. The house beside the yard, which had been the family home for many years, was now handed over to Deacon, the foreman. Gundry had stayed in it long after most men would have thought they could afford to move. As long as they were all happy there, he said, " Let well alone "; but a time came when the young ones wanted a larger and finer nest ; and a picturesque old gabled house at the top of the low hill opposite becoming vacant, he took it, and moved into it about two years before his eldest son's return. Chris hurried on, half hoping to find his father at the yard. Deacon, now a grey-headed man, was standing at the office door. "Why, Master Chris!" he exclaimed, shaking his hand violently, in the warmth of his heart.

" Well, to be sure ! And there's your father and Master Joe gone up to London to meet you ! " "Oh!" Christopher's countenance fell. It was a bitter disappointment, when he was wrought up for meeting them within ten minutes. " Wire 'em, sir. They'll be back by the evening express," said Deacon, and dived into the office for a telegraph form. " Is all right, Deacon ? " asked Chris. " All right, sir. All well, and got a beautiful place, as you know, and a deal of money laid out on it— everything up to date. And you should see the young ladies ! You won't know them, nor Master Joe either." " I suppose not," said Chris, and with rather a sinking heart he crossed the road to a wooden door in the stone wall opposite, which Deacon unlocked for him. He was positively afraid of his own womankind. He had scarcely spoken to a lady all thc time he was at Wallaboo.

He had come home first class, by his father's express wish, Gundry thinking that he would " want polishing up." Instead of being polished, hi FORESTWYK. 12 learned the flavour of disdain, and the taste was in his mouth still. He had never lived at home since Emma, his eldest sister, was sixteen, and Mollie and Dolly were little trots of nine and seven. He had gore on thinking of them as they were when he saw them last. What if they had grown as smart as the ladies on board ship ? Rather slowly, he climbed the steep path through the orchard, up to Greenway House— a fitting name — and passed under branching trees to the kitchen-garden. A wicket in a high hedge admitted him to the flower-garden. Along the side of the house, French windows opened on a verandah with a lawn in front of it, and as Chris paused, wondering where to look for the front dcor, a voice from one of them cried " Chris !

" and out flew a beautiful dark-eyed girl in a light dress, and threw her arms round his neck. Chris bent his face down to hers, of course, but with an awful sensation of having to kiss a strange young lady. "You are Chris, aren't you?" she said, drawing back, half frightened at the moderation of his response. " Yes." " Don't you know me ? I'm Mollie." "Are you?" he said, and gazed — stared at her, to tell the truth. From the moment of landing, he had been struck by the beauty of his countrymen and women, but Mollie fairly took away his breath. Such eyes, with long curled lashes, looking out ofthe lovely rose-leaf tints of her dimpled face ; such little teeth within the coral lips ! But he looked in vain for his very own Mollie " that was." She gazed back, with a touch of dismay, on the likeness of a red full moon in a fog (only ten times redder than ever moon appeared), which she had just been kissing.

A dreadful presentiment seized her that Chris was going to be a disappointment. " I've knocked your hat off," he said gravely, and turned to pick it up. She was before him. Her movements were as FORESTWYK. 13 quick and pretty as a kitten's, her little black shoes twinkling in and out of the folds of her cream-coloured dress. Chris stood still, appraising her, and marvelled. " Where is mother ? " he asked, clutching at the one love unchangeable. " Indoors. Come," said Mollie, and hurried before him through the window, across the drawing-room and hall to another room ; and there was his mother sewing buttons on a flannel shirt. Then he knew that he had come home. She met him with a silent, long embrace, and in her turn drew back to look at him, with the pretty pink flush in her cheeks that he remembered so well, but quite calm.

It was not her way to put herself in a fluster over meetings and partings. " And you have really come safely home ! " she said, holding his hand. " Yes, mother," said Chris ; and by this time Emma, a fair, pretty, blue-eyed girl, came running in too, very little changed since he went away, except for the better, as he thought. " Are we altered, Chris ? " asked Mollie. "You are ; not the others, much," said Chris, not thinking, stupid fellow, to say what was in his mind, "You have all grown so handsome ! " The girls filled up the awkward pause with laments that their father and Joe had gone ; and then his mother con vinced herself that he wanted a meal straightway; he was escorted to his room, and came down to do his best to eat and drink under three pairs of women's eyes. Mrs. Gundry and Emma had work in their hands, but it made small progress.

Mollie chattered, and plied him with questions. " Don't you like this house, Chris ? " " It's very pretty," he answered, and she racked her brain to think what to say next. The grand event which the family had talked about for five years had taken place— Chris had come home ; and it was all falling as flat as Holland. Poor FORESTWYK. 14 Mollie could have exclaimed with Miss Yonge's little heroine, "Nothing interesting and like a book ever does happen, now adays ! " Chris tried to think of proper inquiries after his relations. Emma had become engaged in his absence. With a bright thought, he turned to her and asked, " How is Bentleigh ? " She coloured painfully, and her lip quivered as she answered, "I believe he is well." Mollie looked danger-signals at him, but Chris did not see. " Has he gone away ?

" he asked. " From me," said Emma, and bursting into tears she rushed out of the room. Chris started to his feet, but stood irresolute, afraid to follow her. " Don't go, dear ; I will," said his mother, gathering up her work. " Sit down and eat your pudding." "Is it broken off?" asked Chris. " Yes, two months ago," she answered. " And his doing? " asked the brother, his mild brow darken ing ominously. " Entirely," said Mrs. Gundry, with emphasis ; " but your father agreed to it, and will never have him blamed." Christopher's solid caution forbade his asking any more questions after that. He sat down and stared at his piece of pudding. The moment the door closed upon his mother, Mollie broke forth — " Chris, he was a horror. It's the greatest relief not to have him coming into the family, if only Emma would think so.

Everybody hated him — at least, Joe and I did," said honest Mollie, correcting herself with an effort. " What's the matter with him ? " asked Chris. " He is perfectly detestably good — and sits upon everybody that isn't just the same." " Oh ! " The glimmer of a smile appeared on Christopher's sedate mouth. FORESTWYK. 15 "If you had had him doing good to you, you wouldn't laugh," said Mollie indignantly. "It's no laughing matter for poor Emma," said Chris gravely. " Why should she fret after him, when he doesn't care for her? I can hardly have patience with her," said Mollie. "One would think it was the greatest possible misfortune to lose a lover, and I am sure many worse things might happen to her." These words came out of Mollie's rosy lips with such an air of vast experience that Chris fairly smiled.

" You think there are plenty more where he came from ? " he asked. " No, I wasn't thinking of that," said Mollie disdainfully. " She could make herself just as happy without one, if she would." Chris leaned back, looking at her in admiring amusement. " How old are you, Mollie ? " he asked. "Sixteen," she answered, slightly displeased. She had been taken for eighteen, and did not care to tell her age. " And left school already ? " " Oh yes. Only this week," explained Mollie, with another pinch of honesty. " All the girls I had worked with were leaving, and I had come out with the top ones, so it was no use my staying on. I shall go on with my Greek and mathe matics, and music and singing lessons." She looked to see if he was astonished. Not at all. He was surprised at nothing in English young ladies, and only thought what a dolt he was by comparison.

But from the moment when he learned Emma's trouble, the dreadful feeling of being the hero of the hour and quite unequal to it, had given place to the old instinct for taking care of them all. He wanted Mollie to go on talking, that he might watch the play of her face. Its mould was not statuesque. She had, though in a refined copy, her father's blunt features and straight FORESTWYK. eyebrows ; but every movement made a line of beauty, and her face was always in motion — sparkling and changing like the deep sea. It made him think of a never-to-be-forgotten day in the South-east trades, when the foam on every deep blue wave caught the light at an angle which flung back a rainbow. A dance of rainbows — that was Mollie. His big heart swelled with an intense yearning to hush the gales, and keep those rainbows always playing; but he knew that in her young independence she would only laugh merrily at him for wanting to try.

" Were the other girls older than you ? " he asked. "Oh yes, eighteen or nineteen. Nearly all my friends are older than I am," said Mollie. " My great friend, Alcie Lang dale, is twenty-one." " She didn't go to the High School, did she? " said Chris. " Oh no, and she left Miss Bradbury's when I was twelve." Mollie had left two years later, to go to the famous Forestwyk High School, where her triumphs had been greater than her own account implied ; she had come out first in all but two subjects at the Christmas examinations. " She was always supposed to be Emma's friend," she continued, " but when Emma became swallowed up in James, Alcie was left for me ; and I had much the best ofthe bargain." Chris smiled. " You will want to go and see Mr. Langdale, won't you?" said Mollie. " Yes." "But we can't go to-day," Mollie added, "for they will be gone to the cemetery.

It is the day her mother died." " I know," answered Chris, to her surprise. Another pause. " Don't you want to go over the house ? " said Mollie, by way of reviving the conversation. " Yes," said Chris, reverting to his pudding first, however. He was brought up never to leave anything on his plate. FORESTWYK. 17 The house was beautiful of its kind, with oak rafters and mullioned windows, and curious picturesque turns and recesses ; and, as far as the builders' work extended, its fittings were perfectly in keeping with its character. But when it came to furnishing, Mrs. Gundry's first care had been to bring over all her dear old belongings, regardless of appearance, as though it had been impious to leave a hoof behind. And instead of putting them all together in certain rooms, she mixed the old with the new, giving an effect, as some one said of a famous lady's coiffure, of being "not <?/</-fashioned, which would have given a touch of sentiment, but strangely out of fashion."

Gundry noticed it, but said nothing, hoping that either she would see it herself in time, or the things would " wear more together." Exactly the opposite happened, since after a certain age the process of growing shabby goes on at increased speed. Chris saw it, and had a fellow-feeling for his old friends, now so evidently not up to their position. They did not even serve to set off the new things, for in their company these had an upstart look, quite saucily smart and new. Mrs. Gundry came out of Emma's room, and told him not to go in : Emma must be kept quiet. He obeyed, not without pain. In old times, whoever in the house was sick or sorry, the first medicine cried for was " Christie." His mother next displayed her guest-chamber, and he saw himself full length in the wardrobe mirror, and Mollie at his side, in her dainty, cream-coloured dress, with tartan ribbon at the neck and wrists ; her dark, wavy hair tossed back from her forehead and knotted behind in some mysterious way that was not very tidy, but entirely becoming ; her little nimble tongue running musically on, and keeping up the bewitching changes in her bonnie face.

Chris turned away, and saw, belated among the bright modern furniture, the heavy mahog any arm-chair, with much-rubbed leather, where he used to curl up for comfort in his own childish griefs. The room B FORESTWYK. would look much better without it now, though no one liked to say so. His mind went back to an evening — one of many — when he had come home late, and was hurried upstairs because the baby of the period refused to go to sleep without having said good-night to " Tith." This time it was the youngest — little Robbie. Chris could feel now the tight clinging of that soft, tiny hand round his finger, and hear the coo of content with which the little one settled down to sleep. And that perfect trust was gone ! If the little fellow had lived, it would still be gone. That was the worst of it.

He went submissively over the house, but quite failed to put in the notes of admiration which ought to have studded the progress ; he scarcely spoke a word. It was trying, and Mollie thought so.

Chapter II. Father And Son

How dost thou fare ? My other life ! King Henry VI. Ten years before, to the very day, Chris had held the pony in the VVyk road, outside a warren of poor houses called the Riverside Leas, while his father went down one of the lanes to see about some repairs. A child's distress led Gundry to step inside a house, and there he found the woman whom in his youth he had passionately loved in vain, dying in want of all things, and her husband, Claude Langdale — a high-born, gifted artist who won her from her lowly home — lying drunk upon the floor. The place was let over their heads, the people coming in that night. In this extremity, Mr. Brough, one of the town council, came by, and at Gundry's entreaty allowed the woman to be taken to an empty garret at the top of his warehouse, there to die in peace.

The place had been fitted up for a caretaker, but at this time the only way of entrance to it left open was across a loft which connected the warehouse with Mr. Brough's own house adjoining. Chris drove the mother and child there in the pony cart, and saw his father and Mr. Brough carry the dying woman in. He was waiting outside the house when the wretched husband — led by Laurence Ryan, son of the woman with whom he lodged — came to the door. With infinite difficulty, Chris managed to get him up the long, interminable stairs, in time to receive his wife's last parting word of love. FORESTWYK. 20 Unseen himself, the boy saw his father break down, and guessed the secret of his heart. Only a little later, he saw the lady lying in the triumphant calm of death, and the worship of his young life began : she was enshrined, for ever, the lady of his heart.

With her dying looks, when speech was past, she had commended to Gundry's care her child — and then her husband. " I will," he answered, stifling a mortal throe, though he would fain have spurned the wretch out of his sight ; and faith fully he kept his word. He wished, his wife consenting, to bring up the child with their own ; but she overheard the offer, and went down the long stairs to Mr. Brough, to ask if she and her father might remain as they were, locked up in the garrets, away from temptation. Langdale had been working for Mr. Constable, an artistic house decorator, who, when consulted, was willing to give him one more trial. Mr. Brough made him the offer of twelve months' confinement, without money. All he earned was to be in his gaoler's hands, to be spent or saved for him ; and he was never to go out alone.

If the terms were violated, he was to give up his child. Langdale accepted ; it was a last hope of deliverance from the sin he loathed — inherited through two generations on the mother's side. Chris became his body-guard out of doors, and once had to master him by force ; at all other times the boy was his humble, adoring slave, ready to lay down his "life for him, for that lady's sake as well as for his own. Chris never knew what she was to him — so little did he analyse his own feelings — until, one day, lie heard the story of Aslauga's Knight — Fouqu(£'s story of the noble knight, Sir Frode, who loved the Lady Aslauga with the golden hair, dead since a hundred years. Frode knew her only in the olden poem and in rare visions ; but while other knights went riding far and wide to seek fair ladies, he could sing : FORESTWYK. 21 " I have found her here, in the light of song.

I have found her, tender, wise, and fair, Brave deeds will I do to honour her." When the builder's boy heard that story, he knew that he, too, had found his dream-lady, in the light of her love and sorrow. But his Aslauga had raven hair, and dark, yearning eyes that went on loving to the last — the last ! He was her servitor in serving the man she loved; and when that task was over, because Langdale, clothed and in his right mind, was a free man once more, still, year by year, Chris had gone on trying to do — not brave deeds, for it seemed to him that nothing worth calling bravery came in his way, but faithful ones, in her honour. He had no helmet in which to wear her favour: the homage he rendered lay hidden in his heart. He hoped that the lady would know of it herself in heaven, — perhaps, one day, might stoop to take it from his hand, there.

This was the inner story of those two splendidly competent, solid, matter-of-fact captains of industry, Joseph Gundry and his son Chris. Langdale and Alcie had been to lay a wreath on the beloved grave. Years had made little change in him, save to smooth away some of the marks of former care and grief. His hair, so early silvered, was no greyer. He looked his age — no more ; and with his lithe, tall figure, his courtly bearing, and a certain delicate precision which had come into his attire, he was noted, even by passing strangers, as a man of distinction. His daughter Alcie had grown up so tall and slight that the two constant companions were named " The Langdale Pikes." Her face was strangely little altered since her childish days. It had been long and pale then — it was so still, but that suited the woman better than the child ; so did the lines of thought about her small, firm mouth.

Her large dark eyes — so dark as to look quite black in shadow — were fringed, as of old, by long, straight, heavy lashes. The lower line of her brow was FORESTWYK. 22 beautiful, her eyebrows finely pencilled, but the wide forehead was over-full, as though pressed out by the weight of thought behind. At present this could not be seen, under her shady black hat. Her straight, slim figure was too thin for her height, and showed to advantage in her walking dress, chosen, as was all she wore, according to her father's eye for grace of form. Her movements were apt to be hurried — almost jerky. Not symmetry, but intensity, characterised her supremely. Alcie had the world in her heart, and it weighed there : but she still kept a great deal of her old childish power of throwing off the load. At the turn towards their field-path, on the way home, Langdale paused.

" Shall we go round by the road," he said, " and look in at Greenway to see if anything has been heard of Chris ? " Alcie agreed gladly. They went in by the front gate, but hearing voices on the lawn, Langdale peeped round the house, and suddenly waved his hat and shouted, " Aha, aha, there he is ! " Then came something like a meeting! Such handshakes, such giving of joy all round, and turning back again to the dear mother to hold her two hands and congratulate her in particular ; such happy laughter over little jokes, as if they were something quite superior ! " We're glad to see you," said Langdale, laying his hand on Chris's shoulder. Chris did not even try to speak. "You've not dwindled away," Langdale continued, and they all laughed again, in the gladness of their hearts. Emma had come down, and stood beside Langdale.

He asked questions which compelled Chris to find his tongue a little. Mollie began to feel that something had happened, after all. She was standing with her hand on Alcie's arm. Chris glanced furtively at them when Langdale turned again towards his mother and Emma. He could hardly look at Alcie — the FORESTWYK. 23 scene of their first meeting came back too vividly ; and yet he could hardly keep his eyes away from her. Exercise, and the stir ofthe moment, had brought colour to her cheek : her face was all lit up with sympathetic joy ; but there was a look in her eyes that appealed to him, as her child-face had done all those years ago, and made him long to find something — any thing, to do for her. Yet she repelled him. That indefinable air of the great world, so marked in her father, was hers also now.