Her Guardian Ever. Being the story of a young girl's life

Front matter

THIS WORK, AND ALL THE PUBLICATIONS OF THE ROXBURGHE PRESS, LIMITED, CAN BE OBTAINED THROUGH ANY BOOKSELLER. BEING 1 l]e oDtory of a Young (girl's Life HY GERTRUDE BEACH THE ROXBURGHE PRESS LIMITED Fifteen, Victoria Street Westminster CONTENTS Chapter Page I. A Glimpse of my Home and a Letter . 7 II. I am Startled during a Thunderstorm 25 III. Mrs. Davenport of Darlington Welcomes her Niece . . . . 43 IV. I am Lectured and don't like it . -59 V. Making Peace and Sorting Books . . 73 VI. I Lose my Guardian and miss Him . . 84 VII. The Shadow of a Coming Trouble . . 92 VIII. Our Darling goes to his Last Bright Home . . ... 105 IX. Only a Withered Bunch of Roses . .110 X. Alice finds Charley good Company . 121 XI. Bob, the Objectionable . . . 131 XII. A Quiet Year . . . . 142 XIII. Good Tidings and New Hopes end in Despair . . . . . 158 XIV. Confidences . . ... 174 XV. Happy at Last . . . . 182 B

Chapter I

A GLIMPSE OF MY HOME AND A LETTER. ' ' The earth is covered thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, Rider and horse — friend, foe — in one red burial blent." Byron. " Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining, Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day, Tremulous leaves with soft and silver lining, Buds that open only to decay. " Brilliant hopes all woven in gorgeous tissues — Flaunting gaily in the golden light ; Large desires with most uncertain issues, Tender wishes blossoming at night ! " — Longfellow. " r I "ELL us what you did when you were -»- little, mother ? " This request had been so frequently asked by small people sitting round my knee in the evening time that I seriously began to think how troublesome it might become when my daughters were old enough to wonder under what circumstances I first met their father ; so in order to save myself much talking, and at the same time to satisfy their curiosity, I resolved to put into book form the principal events in my life's history, reserving to myself the right of writing as of a stranger sometimes.

What a long, long time ago it seems ! I remember one afternoon I was in the garden at the old home with my sister Alice. I was little more than sixteen, and had no trouble just then but the heat. It was a decidedly hot day. We had tried every place of which we could think to rest in the cool, but no, it was hot everywhere. Hot in the house and hot out of doors, hot with windows open and hot with them shut. Alice had tried lying on her back on the floor with the blinds down, but had given it up after getting a headache. At last I suggested the back garden. Yes, the inevitable back garden. Why should the grandees turn up their noses at the words? Alice used to say that I should be thought an associate of the vulgar if I used such expressions. I loved teasing Alice, however, and not being so proud as that young lady, continued to use the expression, and what was still more to the purpose, into the back garden we went.

It was a pleasant spot and dearly loved. I think I can see it now. We sat working under a large cherry tree ; at least, I may as well explain that I was doing the work, whilst Alice was lazy and gave the heat as an excuse. In front of us was the house, a pretty, old-fashioned place that would have delighted the eye of an artist. Built of red brick, it had become picturesquely covered with ivy that had clung there for years. At the open French window sat our mother reading. The window above her belonged to my room, and I am afraid anyone could easily see how untidy I was as a child. One curtain seemed gone altogether, and in its place, half resting on the sill and half in air, was a drawing-board. I was a born artist (as I thought) and was always scribbling in pencil or daubing in paint, and it was a fond idea of mine that the air would hurry the drying of colours, which consummation my patience would not wait for.

The other window in a line to that and next it belonged to Alice. Very proper it was and very pretty. Alice loved colours, and had tied her curtains with pale pink ribbons. We were allowed to do as we liked, for the windows were not seen from the road. Mother's window and that of the spare room looked over a more genteel neighbourhood, a stretch of park belonging to Squire Burton, and as much of Eggleton Road as could be seen from the house. The best place from which to view the garden was the library, where mother was sitting. If you could have only been there, my reader, and have slipped through the open window you would have come on to a lawn so smooth that it looked like green velvet. On the right ran a long straight walk bordered with flowers. This would lead you into a vegetable garden, which was divided from the lawn by a high and thick-set laurel hedge.

On the left of the lawn stood the cherry tree. It was old and had grown in such a fashion as to form quite an arbour, the boughs being low and thickly leaved. The fruit hung in rich clusters, and made a pretty contrast against the green. Flowers there were in abundance, and on this day of which I am writing there were butterflies too ; but the heat gave a lazy look to everything. The very gnats buzzed as if it were a trouble. The only things indeed that seemed to have any life left in them were the bees, who went buzzing about from one flower to another, now sucking up the honey from a grand garden beauty, and then on to a modest little daisy that lived on the lawn. On, on, from one to another. It was all the same to them. " Work and be busy," they seemed to say — " work and be busy while you may."

I was drawing diligently, and therefore felt that I was duteously copying the bees, but though I told Alice she ought to be ashamed of herself, it made no difference, and there she lay full length on the grass, a cushion under her head and a cap at her side full of cherries. She was a pretty, graceful girl, and was more constituted to enjoy herself than anything else ; and as I look back at the things which happened for both of us in those years, I cannot help acknowledging that all was ordered as it should be. I had no brothers and only one sister, so we were a small family. We seldom visited, and were not great lovers of society. Alice used to go with mother sometimes when "calling," but I always contrived to stay at home ; for, as a child, ■* I had a horror of strangers, and was very sensitive and shy.

I don't know what made me so, but the unfortunate fact cost me a very fair amount of teasing, which, if anything, only made me worse. I used to envy Alice. She could talk with perfect ease to anyone, and keep herself meanwhile as collected and cool as a cucumber. But then I was so different to my sister. She was of medium height, and possessed a good figure, having, more over, a wealth of dark hair and merry laughing eyes. In fact, Alice had all the graces a girl needs to become a favourite in society. Besides, she was good company ; could sing like a bird and play well. I was a quiet " nobody " ; my one ideal in those days being father. Poor old daddy, how I loved him ! And he was equally fond of me, always the same to his little Meg — his baby. We did not see much of him just at this time.

Being in the army he had been ordered to Egypt, and we were all feeling the want of him and longing for him to be home again. It was rather an anxious time for us, for we never knew what dreadful news any day might bring. Poor mother used to go about with a very sad face, but I suppose Alice and I were too young to take things very soberly. All I know is that we used to enjoy ourselves just the same, and certainly had a happy time on the whole. I will not say that we never fretted, for there were times when we, too, did our share of looking gloomy. It was on Sunday evenings that I used to miss him most ; and many a night, after church was over, I would plead headache and go to bed, saying I was not hungry and couldn't eat supper. Then I used to fall asleep dreaming of daddy, and Alice has come in to find my pillow wet with tears.

How anxiously we looked for letters, and how eagerly we both listened while mother read us bits of them, when they came ! But I must return to the afternoon when we were sitting under the cherry tree. We had a favourite game, we often played when we were children, with cherry stones. It was supposed to tell whom we were going to marry. First we said " somebody," then " anybody," then came the person's initials, and then "nobody." Taking a handful of stones we used to count them off, and whichever word it ended with such was our fate to be. Now an aunt of ours, of whom we had seen very little, had suddenly, upon daddy's going away, become friendly. She was a widow with one son, and was very rich. She was father's sister, but through family quarrels, of which Alice and I knew nothing, had been alienated from him for some time.

This lady made a great fuss of Alice, and it had been decided that she was to adopt her. However, that was not to be just yet, so very little was said about the matter, Aunt Bertha declaring she should not of course take Alice till her brother George came home from abroad. She thought a little better of him, poor fellow ! now that he was in such danger, though she really had little patience with him for ever joining the army. She was a little queer, but a very good-natured soul at heart, and we grew really fond of her. I often told Alice that I was sure she would fall in love with Cousin Charley, and many a bit of fun have we had over him. We had been talking of him on this particular afternoon, and I suppose she had decided to try her fate, for looking up with merry eyes and a lapful of stones, she exclaimed — " There !

I told you so, and as it 's the third time it is sure to come true. Just listen, will you, Meg ? Somebody — anybody — C.D. Nobody. Somebody — anybody — C. D. You needn't laugh. It's quite right. I 'm playing fair. You count them and see if it does not come right. I shouldn't wonder though, really," she went on, finding I was too busy to say much. " But what if he should hear me say such a thing ? Oh ! Meg," and off she went into a ripple of laughter. " Why, he 'd be shocked, Alice," I answered. " Shocked, you old maid ! Well, is that tree to your mind yet? I hate drawing. You look so awfully busy and grave." " Never mind," I said calmly ; " I set you a good example. Here is mother at last." We could tell she had news, and we wondered if it were a letter. She looked anxious and worried, but smiled as she said, " Who is C. D., my dears ?

Meg, mind you don't sit at that picture too long and make your head ache. The sun is very strong, you know." " I 'm all right, thank you, mammy," I answered ; " but you look tired. Is anything the matter? " " Come in with me to the house and I will tell you ; or stay, it is cool here. Give me your stool, Meggy. Thank you, dear. Now, which shall it be first, good or bad news? — for I have both." Alice wanted the good, but mother gave way to me when I said " bad," and quite agreed that sweets were pleasanter after physic. Alice was still on the grass, and I took her example and sat at mother's feet, watching her face while she talked. We always used to pride ourselves that our mother was different to anyone else's. She invariably laughed when we told her so, but that never altered our opinion in the least.

" She is so much nicer, you know," we used to say. I remember telling daddy once, when quite a little mite, that I was sure the angels' faces must be like mother's. He only smiled, then looked across at her, but I wondered in my childish way what made him afterwards (looking sad) get up and kiss her. When I asked nurse, she said " little girls shouldn't talk about things they do not under stand." So I made Alice my confidante after that, and she always agreed with me perfectly. Mother looked older now than she did in those days. Her hair was just tinting grey here and there, but she seemed as sweet as ever, and we of course liked it, and said it was aristocratic. She had soft brown eyes like Alice, and a very love of a mouth. I watched her all the while as I sat there listening to her voice.

She told us (and it seemed to our imagination a dreadful thing) that we had suddenly become very poor, and must give up many of our luxuries. She would not tell us how this was, as we could not understand, she said, and so we had to be content with the bare fact. We talked and planned for a long time as to how we should manage and what we were to do, almost forgetting in our surprise the other news, till mother, getting up, said it would be tea-time. We remembered it then, and did not let her go till she told us that father was coming home in a month's time ; might even be on his way now. That was enough for us, and being young, the thought of the trouble was gone for the moment, and nothing but pleasure seemed before us. Mother smiled and said that in the evening she would read us daddy's letter, and with that we left the garden, I picking up my easel and going before Alice into the house and straight to my bedroom.

I wanted to be alone, to think over all mother had said. I sat down by my dear old-fashioned window, and looked round my sanctum. Well, I should not have to give it up, and that was one blessing. Doubtless I was a curious girl in many ways. The untidy look of all about me showed that I had a number of ideas which rarely came to anything. Most girls have, I fancy, at one time or another. On my sofa lay a heap of sewing and on the table a pile of sketches, but they were all unfinished. On the mantelpiece was an odd mixture of articles. In the centre was my Bible open, at one end a collection of china mice, frogs, and reptiles, and at the other end an old silver mug full of sweet peas. At my feet lay Sir Walter Scott's Peveril of the Peak, with the back broken. Altogether the room was in a most dreadful state of disorder, but I did not feel in the humour to put it tidy, and so merely sat thinking.

I was wondering what would be in store for us, and understanding how unequally the trouble would be felt by each. Mother had known what it was to be poor, but it was hard, after having years of plenty and comfort, to return to it again. Alice would have gone to aunt's in any case and been provided for, so the loss of our money mattered little to her. Father would be in the army as usual, and only have the annoying thought of those at home doing with less ; but as for me, what should I feel ? I was in a dreadfully low humour that afternoon, and in my selfishness thought of none but myself. Ambitious ideas floated in my mind of doing some glorious thing to help at this crisis, work of some kind, so that mother might have all she was used to and that father's mind might be eased. I would secure some remunerative orders for paint ing, or take a daily situation.

Something I must do, and I firmly believe for the next few minutes I honestly felt I was equal to anything, such was my ignorance of the world in general ! This brave conclusion cheered me for a time, till I began to consider what would be the best of all the numerous things I might do. Then the galling truth looked me in the face that I could really do nothing, was not in fact equal to it, and all owing to my silly shyness. It was no use struggling against the feeling. I had tried, and it would still remain. I was " nobody " at home — "little Miss Nobody" — and I imagined everyone else thought the same. To those who never have been shy this may sound ridiculous, but let me assure them that it is true, and those who are shy alone know how true. The uncomfortable sensation that all eyes are upon you — that you dare not speak for fear of saying the wrong thing — and that you know posi tively you are in everyone's way.

It is horrible ! How could I teach ? I should be shy lest my pupils were laughing at me ; and how was I to get any work if I were too shy to find it. Besides (I have often thought of it since), how very young I was ; far too young to be of any use was my conclusion that day, and so I felt truly miserable. I always seemed to get the worst side of a trouble, and on this occasion I felt myself to be a poor blighted being. Why had aunt decided to adopt Alice ? She was far more suited to earn a living with her talents than I was — but no, it was to be. She to live an easy life, and I to be the drudge. I had sat moping for some time with my face in my hands when I heard a bird whistling in the garden. It's shrill little pipe seemed strangely to echo the word duty, and I listened. Du-tee, du-tee !

There it was whistling so plainly the word. Then it stopped, and looking out, my eyes rested on the old cherry tree. This reminded me of father's letter and that he was coming home. Du-tee — du-tee — there it was, the dear little thing on the top branch of all. It seemed almost as if the bird knew I was glad that daddy was coming. I suppose it was my imagination, but when it sang again, the note was changed from duty to daddy — dad-dy — dad-dy. I grew quite interested, and sat listening for a long time ; and what with that music, the scent from the roses, the blue sky, and all the bright things around me, I felt wonderfully cheered. Hearing Alice call I rose hurriedly and went to the dressing-table to brush my hair, deciding at the same time that good temper was the best thing after all ; and if I could not be the help I wanted to be, I would at least show myself cheerful, and so not worry the others as well as myself.

That night little work was done of any sort, whilst a great deal of talking was accomplished. We wanted dearly-loved mother to tell us tales, and when she began one about her young days when she was poor, we made her go on to others, which naturally led to father's coming home and the strange guest he was to bring — for he had said in his letter that an officer had saved his life in battle c and was wounded whilst doing so. He did not know how to be grateful enough, and so was bringing him home to be nursed. Great was our curiosity at hearing this, and we plagued mother sadly to tell us all she knew of him. She began by reading daddy's letter, bits of which we especially prized. It gave a long description of a terrible battle just won ; and I could picture to my self the dreadful scenes, and felt very thankful that daddy had emerged unscathed.

He told us how near death he had been ; and had not his friend come to the rescue he was afraid he would never have lived to write the letter we were reading. How it had all happened he could not distinctly remember, but he had found afterwards that Major Carlton (our expected guest) was badly hurt, and was then lying very ill, though it was hoped he would recover. His left arm was broken and much bruised by falling from his horse. The letter ran thus : " He is a noble fellow, and I hope to bring him home with me if I can persuade him to come. He will probably have to leave the army, though he does not know it yet himself, and I feel I can never do enough for him. I want you and the girls to be as good to him as you can. He has few friends and fewer relations, and strange to say will make his home in Drayton, as he owns a house in Kennington Road — that pretty one Meg always admired so.

His mother lived there some time ago, but died before we came into the neighbourhood. I have known him for some time and always thought him a good sort of fellow, but I feel myself doubly indebted to him now for your sakes." He then told us how poor we were and why, but looking back to the time when his letter came, I can remember no more of it than this one sentence — " Try not to worry yourselves, but leave all money matters for me to arrange. I shall do my best, and I know my little girls won't grudge a few less goodies and a few more hours' real work. Kiss them both for me, and tell them father often wonders what sort of women his little maids are making." Mother remembered seeing, the Major some years ago, but had almost forgotten what he was like. We lived very quietly at home (unlike many army people), and so of course saw little of father's fellow-officers.

She said he would be quite thirty five years old by now, though when she saw him he was comparatively young. He was tall, she thought, and not bad-looking, but we should have ample time to satisfy our curiosity when he came, and as the clock was striking eleven we put aside any further questions and said " Good-night." Not long after I was curled up in bed between the sheets fast asleep, and dreaming that father had come into an immense fortune and had brought a Red Indian home with him as a guest.

Chapter II

/ AM STARTLED DURING A THUNDERSTORM. " Wiser it were to welcome and make ours Whate'er of good, though small, the present brings, Kind greetings, sunshine, song of birds and flowers, With a child's pure delight in little things ; And of the griefs unborn, to rest secure, Knowing that mercy ever will endure." — Trench. ALICE was sitting sewing at the drawing-room window, which overlooked the road, and she was watching the vehicles go by as well. Aunt used to say no one could do two things together, but Alice could. She certainly did a great deal of work that afternoon, and I am sure she knew each individual who passed the gate. She criticised them too, and kept me in a perpetual fit of laughter. " There goes ' Dot and Carry One,' " she cried. I looked out and found it was poor old Sammy, the watercress man, who was lame, one leg being so -5 much shorter than the other that it gave people the idea that he was carrying one foot.

He came up, and doffing his cap asked if we would take any cresses. " No thanks," said Alice ; " not to-day. Come next week, Sammy, and I '11 give you a big order." " Thank-ye, missy," he answered ; " 't aint often as I get a big un. Good-day to ye both." " You wouldn't get one now," said Alice, " only we shall have friends " ; and then she got up, and hopping round the room imitated the poor old man so well that she nearly sent me into con vulsions, and I told her she was meant for the stage. She soon went back to her work, and between the two of us there was a great deal done by tea-time, for we had no cause to be idle. It was all arranged for Alice to go to " Darlington " (aunt's house), and we had work before us to get her toilettes ready. She was to wait till father came (we were expecting him on the morrow), and then would be off, and I should be alone.

Nothing very particular had occurred since we had received daddy's letter. The days had passed, as all such days will do, far too slowly for us. Except for being minus a maid, the house vvas the / AM STARTLED. 27 same, for mother would change nothing without father's sanction ; only one thing we missed very much, and that was our dear old horse, but it had to go, and we began to feel poor — at least, Alice did ; but mother smiled and said she shouldn't till the larder was empty. Aunt came for a day or two just to arrange about Alice, but did not stay long, as Cousin Charley was preparing to go abroad. We were all very busy, and I think that helped us to keep away the thoughts of losing our pet. Probably I felt it worse than anyone, for what I should do without a sister I didn't know. Alice laughed, and told me I should find it beautiful, but mother said she knew it was only Alice's way of putting it to hide her deeper feelings.

We were always together, and made numerous plans for the future, some of which I am afraid we soon broke. We were all now looking forward to the next day which would bring daddy, and with him his friend, Major Carlton. The only thing that marred the pleasure for me was this visitor. I should not see so much of father, and oh ! how I hated strangers. I fairly dreaded this fresh arrival, but, nevertheless, did my share of help in preparing for him, and much amused mother by putting flowers in the spare bedroom, as if a man would care for such things. She let them remain, however; but didn't I wish afterwards that she had moved them. We had just finished tea, and were planning how we would spend the evening, when we were startled by hearing wheels and the door bell ringing violently. We all hurried into the hall, and the next thing I can remember was finding myself in daddy's arms.

Yes ! It was daddy himself, come home earlier than he expected. It was long before he could explain, lor, as he said, we set upon him like a pack of wolves and nearly devoured him. No one seemed to think of Major Carlton till father mentioned his coming alone. " I wanted to surprise you all," he said, " and as Carlton could not come so soon, I left him in London ; but he will be down here in two days at the latest." We seemed as if we could not leave him — our dear old daddy. No, not for one moment ; and it was some time before I secured him all to myself. It was getting late, and mother left the room, taking Alice with her, to see to some little / AM STARTLED. 29 domestic arrangement for the traveller's welfare. I was soon on his knee, and hearing him say "how his big baby had grown." " Yes," I said, " almost too big to be a baby ; but never too big to be here, daddy."

" No, my Meggy. And so you are glad to see me?" " And so glad you came by yourself," I answered, kissing him. " So glad to have you first alone." " What ? my little woman. Haven't you out grown your silly habit yet ? " And then seeing me look abashed, he added, " Ah, but you will soon like Major Carlton, especially when you have heard how noble he has been." " But he is a stranger, daddy," I said. " He 's not a stranger, baby, but a very valuable friend ; and remember this, little woman, that I want you to overcome this shyness and be nice to him for father's sake. If it had not been for him I should not be here now." That was sufficient for me, and I promised I would do my best to like him. Never a thought of what gleamed in the future had I that day ; but it seems wonderful now I look back to it all.