Undine; a romance of modern days: and other stories

Front matter

UNDINE; A ROMANCE OF MODERN DAYS: AND OTHER STORIES. UNDINE; J gnwantt 0s gioimn Dans: AND OTHER STORIES. BY CAROLINE BIRLEY, K Author of " We are Seven ; A Tale for Children :" *^A Heap of Stones ; " Barneys Neiglibour :" &°c. MANCHESTER : John Heywood, Deansgate and Ridgefield; And ii, Paternoster Buildings, LONDON. 1883. DEDICATION. As a child, playing by a stream, casts a careless handful of wild flowers upon its bosom, bidding them glide onward with the current, so do I send forth these idle fancies to float for one brief moment on the sea of life, before they sink into oblivion. And as the child, not quite in incredulity, calls after its frail craft to bear fond messages to dear companions far away, so would I link with these short stories loving remembrances to friends which may not reach them, and thoughts of love and faith in them that they will never know.

Hart Hill, Manchester, September, 1883. CONTENTS. PAGE Undine: a Romance of Modern Days i Yes or No? 33 Davidona 65 Kit; or, a Cat may Look at a King no A Punch and Judy Girl 128 Swift and Bold: a Tale of '54 HMm : & of tJKortrrtt §u\$

Part I

a bud. " A lily thou wast when I saw thee first, A lily-bud not opened quite, That hourly grew more pure and white, By morning, and noontide, and evening nursed : In all of nature thou hadst thy share ; Thou wast waited on By the wind and sun ; The rain and the dew for thee took care ; It seemed thou never could'st be more fair." Song to M. L. — iames russell lowell. HE noontide train from London was speeding through the midland counties one sunny May day, many years ago, passing by orchards white with lovely promise for the time to come, and sheltered homesteads where the apples would be stored and garnered ; dashing through the fields where the lambkins were playing with their mothers, or nestling at their side ; the cattle grazing quietly, or standing in the river to bathe their feet in the cool clear waters, with an expression of calm content ment on their placid features, peculiar to the race ; now skirting the wood where orchises and hyacinths were A springing, which earlier in the season had resounded to the huntsman's cheery horn, or to the glad opening bark of some experienced hound ; now by parks and gardens, where the lime-trees and hawthorns were scenting the air with their fragrance, and the tall horse chestnuts lifted their spiral blooms to heaven.

May, merry May! But, though it was pleasant enough for the first-class passengers to lean back among the cushions, thinking of nothing in particular, with the fresh wind blowing on their faces, and all the bright scenes of pastoral beauty flitting before their eyes, what was their lazy enjoyment, compared to the vivid delight of the third-class travellers, mechanics and artisans going out a-pleasuring — for one sweet holiday to leave the closeness of the streets and alleys, and spend it in the pure country air ? Look ! Pale, haggard faces of weary men and careworn women are crowding at the window ; childish tongues prattling of the daisies and buttercups, which are to them, alas ! poor little ones, more of names than of realities, or fervently appealing to " Mother, mother ! " to look at the white May hedges, Dr the boats on the canal.

Fathers are talking of their childhood, and women remembering their girlish days. Laughter and shouting and singing arises as they get further from the town, and they will be half sorry when the journey is ended, and so much of their brief holiday is over. Not so Captain Mervyn Legh, across whose countenance the least delay brings an impression of impatience strangely at variance with the satisfied and pleasant smile which it wears when the train is again in motion, and, comfortably established with his feet on the opposite seat, and in full enjoyment of his capital cigar, he can, without personal effort, feel that he is hastening towards the attainment of his desires with the utmost possible speed. Smoking just suits his present mood ; it calms his restlessness, but does not prevent UNDINE : A ROMANCE OF MODERN DAYS. 3 him from indulging in the agreeable reflections which fill his mind, and with which his first attempts at reading had inter fered.

It was impossible. There was nothing in the paper, though it was the Times; and as for his novel — it was like all the rest of them, vapid, stupid, worthless, slow. Is it not often so with us ? There is but one novel that we really care for — the story of our lives ; only sometimes we catch dim echoes of it written by other hands, and then we say the book is true, and clever, and lifelike, and do not pause to think why we have called it so. Perhaps we say it is suggestive — we mean, it has brought back to us the golden hour of hope, the days when we were young, the friends we loved, the love and faith we've lost. We read a page. In fancy we are sitting again beneath the trees, and the face which is the only face on earth to us is smiling, the low sweet voice is speaking just the words we wish to hear.

Yes, that face may be cold and proud to us now, or it may be colder and not proud — we may have lost by separation or by death ; but we have had the happy hour back again, and say what you will, the book which has recalled it, is true and beautiful to us, although it raise no echo in the hearts of others. They may find it in some other volume. Captain Legh, however, was not thinking of the past ; he was thinking of the future, and his cousin Mabel Wynter, whom he was travelling down to see. Ashworth Rectory was his home as well as hers ; for he and his brother Tom (a lieutenant in the navy) were orphans, and since their parents' death, their aunt had acted a mother's part to them. Her own children were much younger. Mervyn was ten years older than her elder daughter Mabel, a beautiful girl of twenty, whom he had long made up his mind to marry as soon as he was in a suitable position to ask her to become his wife ; and now that time had come.

Fortune had most unexpectedly befriended him in the death of an old relative of his father's, who, having quarrelled with his own near rela tions a little while before, avenged himself by leaving all his property to Mervyn Legh, whom he remembered as a dark eyed little fellow of eight years old, standing by his mother's knee ; and so he was a rich man now, and free to ask the girl he loved. There was little doubt of the result of this wooing. Mabel and he had always been such friends, and she loved and admired and looked up to him so much, that who could fear ? There was no rival that he knew of in the field, and never lover looked forward to the future with a surer prospect of success and happiness than did Captain Legh this day. Tom, too, who had returned a week ago from a two years' voyage, would be there to share his joy, and welcome Mabel as a sister ; and in fancy Mervyn already heard his warm congratulations, and thought how pleasant it was to be again within reach of that frank hearty nature, without whose sympathy something seemed always wanting.

He had seen his brother for one night in London, but what was that after such a separation ? Dear old Ashworth ! How countrified the village street looked with the little gardens and the rural post-office ; the children trooping out of school and curtsying to " the Captain " with rosy cheeks, and fingers in their mouths to typify the shyness which was clearly not expressed in the staring recognition of the round black eyes ! How familiar was the old church tower peeping through the trees ! and how pretty the Rectory garden, with the sunshine flooding it as he drove up to the door, when, seeing figures on the lawn, he ordered his luggage to be sent in and started off in search of them, first encountering two boys of ten and twelve ! " Oh, Mervyn ! how d'ye do ? We're so glad you've come ! " " Thank you.

Where are the others ? " UNDINE : A ROMANCE OF MODERN DAYS. 5 Then came a duet which sounded like a chorus. " Mamma and Lily are out walking, taking soup somewhere : didn't you meet them ? " " Papa's writing his sermon : you mustn't disturb him." " Willie's at Oxford." "You know Jim's at Sandhurst; have you seen him?" "Mab and Tom are in the arbour ; they've been there such an age ! " " That'll do — I don't want deafening. Run away with you," said Mervyn, laughing good-humouredly at their fund of information. " Well, what is it, Hugh ? " "Have you brought Oscar with you?" The great St. Bernard dog, to which the boys were devotedly attached. "Of course I have — for Lily to ride on." Lily was the darling of the family, six years old, and a dreadful tyrant. She and Mabel were the only girls ; the boys it seemed impossible to count.

Happily the Rev. William Wynter was not by any means a poor man : his father, a country gentleman, had been tolerably well off, and he was the only son ; and then his wife had brought him two or three hundred a year. "There was no anxiety respecting the future of his numerous boys : one wTould be a clergyman, another a soldier (that was Mervyn's doing), a third was now at Winchester, and two were still at home. They were strong, hardy fellows, bright and active, and would make their own way in the world as they grew up. Meanwhile the Rectory was large enough for all — a pleasant modern-looking house, whitewashed and gabled, with a good deal of land and garden attached. It was Mr. Wynter's own, and did not go with the living ; but the old Rectory had tumbled down, and the name had somehow been transferred.

The garden was particularly charming, full of quiet little nooks and shady corners, fit for the game of " hide-and-seek," which grown-ups sometimes play, though the children often turned it to "I spy, I spy ! " One part of the lawn was visible from the hall door; but from the side door you commanded the full extent of gently sloping turf, covered with brilliant flower-beds, and dotted up and down with rhododendron clusters, and lilacs, and laburnums with their drooping golden showers. Towards the further end of this, and on the right hand, lay the pond, half on a side lawn, half in a field, where gigantic oaks and elm-trees shaded it, and the water-lilies spread their smooth, glossy leaves ; both kinds, white and yellow, grew there, but they were not yet in season. And here was the arbour, a beautiful weeping-beech, carefully trained and tended, with branches sweeping to the ground, excepting where they were pushed back and bound to iron rods to form the door, made wide on purpose lo let in plenty both of air and light ; and in another place there was a partial opening looking on the pond, across the field, to where a terrace-walk, facing the valley, bounded the Rectory demesne.

The arbour was furnished with a few rustic chairs and a little iron table, on which was lying a great mass of flowers — early roses, annuals, hawthorn — gathered for sweetness and brightness, and forming a dazzling heap of blue, pink, yellow, scarlet, green, in lovely disorder, with which no arrangement could compete. Mabel Wynter held two or three of them in her hand as she sat there talking with her cousin Tom, who lay on the grass at her feet, looking up at her with his bright, merry blue eyes, and running his fingers through his curly, light-brown hair. He was tall, broad shouldered, rather good-looking, and a faint family likeness might be traced between him and his fair companion, for he took after his mother's people, while Mervyn was a thorough Legh. Mabel was very pretty, there was no doubt of that — slight, delicate-looking, with a fair oval face shaded with masses of sunny hair, and beautiful soft blue-grey eyes, serene and UNDINE : A ROMANCE OF MODERN DAYS. 7 smiling.

Perhaps a little expression and animation were wanting, but it was a face to be admired, dreamt of, idealized ; and if you ever found it did not light up as you expected when you spoke of noble thoughts, heroic deeds, or dreams of future glory, you were unreasonable, exacting. Those ideal faces seldom do. It was she who first saw Mervyn half-way across the lawn ; and as Tom sprang up to meet him, her face flushed with pleasure, and she also rose and watched the tall slight figure coming towards her with the light active tread she knew so well. He was not a handsome man, with his dark com plexion deepened by foreign service, and his close-cut black hair; but his eyebrows, thick and clearly marked, shaded a wonderful pair of dark-brown eyes, soft and liquid in repose, but with a latent fire in them which warned one that beneath his calm exterior there were depths of passionate feeling in the heart of Mervyn Legh.

His expression was grave and thoughtful, and his voice singularly rich and sweet. " Oh, Mervyn, wrhat a welcome!" she exclaimed, regretfully. " I am so sorry we did not know that it was you. We would have gone to meet you in the avenue, but we thought it was some stupid caller. You are earlier than we expected." " Too early, perhaps. What a delicious day ! " he said, pulling forward a seat : he had not Tom's preference for the ground. " Hugh and Bertie met me, and told me you were here. They gave me a graphic sketch of the movements of the family, until I sent them off to Oscar." " Oh, those boys ! You have not seen papa? " " No, they told me he was busy with his sermon : we shall reap the benefit to-morrow," he answered, with a look not lost on Tom, with whom the Rector's sermons were a favourite subject of diversion.

"Will you come into the house?" said Mabel, with a vague idea of suggesting sherry and biscuits. " Not if you give me my choice. It is all very well for you, who have been idling here all day, to talk of going in ; but think of me, boxed up in a railway carriage. Of course I would rather stay out." " How did the inspection go off yesterday? " said Tom. "All right: I was glad when it was over. How does Will like Oxford, Mab ? " " Very much : he and the Mr. Travers you spoke of are such friends." And a long conversation followed, putting Mervyn in possession of the numerous little bits of local history which letters are powerless to relate. And thus the afternoon passed, oh, how quickly ! — Mrs. Wynter, his Aunt Mary, a pleasant, sensible-looking woman, joining them ; and though he had not the satisfaction of one minute alone with Mabel, he was at least within her presence, reading her welcome in a hundred looks and tones.

He must try for an opportunity to-morrow of telling her his love. The interval before dinner was a little trying to his patience, for Lilias was in the drawing-room, and insisted upon amusing herself by counting the buttons on her sister's dress, with a view to seeing whom she would marry. "Soldier, sailor, tinker, tailor, gentleman, apothecary, plough-boy, thief." Mabel attempted a faint remonstrance. "Whisper the answer, dear," she said; but, in her excitement, Lily forgot the injunction, and shouted "Sailor!" in quite triumphant tones. Tom's glance met Mabel's, and she coloured; Mervyn looked up, but her head was turned away. "You are right to choose a sailor, Mabel," Tom said gravely. " You know the difference between us and soldiers. The sailor says — ' I'm so fond of that girl ; ' the soldier says — ' That girl's so fond of me.' " "What a pity you don't know French, Lily," said the UNDINE : A ROMANCE OF MODERN DAYS. 9 Rector, laughing, " or you might find out how much he'll love her, un peu, beaucoup, passionnement, pas du tout."

" I'll do it," said Bertie ; but his mother, pitying Mabel's embarrassment, and thinking, perhaps, one enfant terrible was enough, called him to order ; and dinner being announced, there was a general movement. Mervyn took in Mrs. Wynter, and sat with his back to the window, and as that side of the table was unpopular, he had it to himself. Mabel was opposite, but she was distraite, and Tom, who was next her, tried in vain to make her talk. As soon as dessert was brought in, she and her mother went away, Mervyn opening the door. "May I come with you, Mab?" he whispered, as she passed. " Papa ! " she said, rebukingly. So, in obedience to command, he began to make himself agreeable to the Rector, a quiet, gentlemanly man, rather indolent by nature, and with a certain want of point about him to strangers, though in his own house his authority was absolute, and " Papa says " was a judgment from which there was no appeal.

The villagers liked him, he was so patient ; Tom had a great regard for him, but Mervyn was always rather bored. He sat down again now with resignation on his face. Politics were discussed and army regulations ; and then when their uncle made a move, Tom beguiled his brother into the garden to smoke a pipe or two. " Would Mabel come?" suggested Mervyn; but Tom thought she was rather tired ; and when they went in again, they found it so. A headache had come on, and she had gone to bed, leaving a message for Mervyn that she was sorry to be absent his first evening, as she had wanted to sing him her new songs. The next day, Whit-Sunday, was warm and bright as its predecessor. Mabel's headache had vanished, and she walked with Mervyn from morning church, asking and hearing a good deal about his doings since they had met at Christmas, and then branching off to talk of books which he had recommended her to read.

She always followed his advice, she respected him so much ; he was so good and wise and kind, and took such pains to teach her; and though she often did not understand him, she was aware of the immense advantage of coming into contact with his cultivated mind. On Sunday the Rectory hours were as follows : — Dinner at one o'clock, afternoon service at three, tea at six, supper at nine. The Leghs seldom went to the second service ; they used to saunter about together till the others came back ; but on this occasion, on Mabel an nouncing her intention of going straight from church to read to a poor old woman, Tom volunteered to accompany her ; and Mervyn, who had committed himself by the mention of letters to write, could only determine that she should linger with him in the garden after her return.

Fortune favoured him at last. He met them on the terrace-walk, as they were coming homeward through the fields, and Tom, remarking — "I'll come out again, old fellow; but I must just dash off a few lines first," passed on into the house ; while Mabel, lightly disclaiming all notion of fatigue, readily acceded to his suggestion of pacing up and down ; it was so very pleasant in the sunshine. At length they stopped and gazed upon the view. Shall I tell you what they saw there ? for neither ever forgot the simple scene, with the lights and shadows of this peaceful Sunday. A range of the Stoneshire hills opposite, green and rounded, with slender spires of village churches standing against the sky ; sloping fields down to the great shining river ; tumble down cottages, uncomfortable and picturesque, clustered together, with a background of beautiful trees ; an unfinished bridge, with the huge rough blocks of stone lying about the grass, and little children playing amongst them ; gnarled old UNDINE : A ROMANCE OF MODERN DAYS. 11 oaks ; and boys birdnesting among the hawthorn.

It only wanted a pair of lovers to complete this picture of rural felicity, and Mervyn did not intend that this feature should be wanting long. " I never see a view I like better than this," he said ; " it is so calm and quiet. I don't think you half understand how fond I am of this dear old place ; it has always been like home to me." Did she understand him? Did she know why his voice was lower, and not quite so steady as it sometimes was? Did she know that this was the moment he had been looking to for years ? Let us hope not- He stood with his kind eyes fixed on her, and she looked up with frank affection in her gaze. " I have often wondered," she answered. " It has seemed such a lonely thing for you to have no real home, and I am very glad that you should feel this so — you and Tom." She lingered on the name.

" Has Tom told you nothing?" she asked a little wistfully, with a most becoming blush. "Nothing," he answered. "What do you ?" He broke off suddenly ; he could not put the question. He waited for her to speak. Her right hand clasped a ring upon her finger, rather nervously, perhaps ; but Mabel was always calm. " I asked him not, I wanted to tell you myself," she continued. " But he would not promise. Mervyn," looking up sweetly and shyly, " will you have me for a sister ? I know I am not good enough, but Tom will have it, and I never could refuse him anything he asked." In the first moments of a great calamity we do not realize the full extent of our misfortune. We know that it will overwhelm us presently, but for the minute we are strong. Legh only answered quietly, " Is it so, dear Mabel ?

I was very blind never to have guessed it. God bless you both. You will make him very happy. How stupid T have been ! " He held her hand, she half expecting a brotherly caress ; but there was nothing of the sort. He only looked at her with a strange pathos in his wondrous eyes. How fair she was ! —how gracious ! He would never forget her, though she was lost to him. " Aren't you glad, Mervyn ? I hoped you would have been," she asked him sadly, after a little pause. " Why are you so grave ? Is it because you think I am too young, too stupid, not good enough for him ? Would it be better for Tom if I told him that this could never be ? I think," she added, quickly, " I could give him up now at once, if I knew it would be best for him, but not after I have realized it. Oh, no ! not after I have had time to be happy."

So then he roused himself. " Best for Tom to give him up?" he repeated, rallyingly. "What are you dreaming of? It is a nice thing to play fast and loose with a man like that. My dear, do you think I am not glad of my brother's happiness ? He is a lucky fellow, and I must go and tell him so. Tell me, how long has this been going on ? " " I don't know ; ask Tom," said Mabel. " It was only settled yesterday, but he says he has been meaning it for years. Look ! you need not go : there he is, coming towards us." Then Mervyn kissed her. With his brother in sight he could trust himself, could speak playfully to them both for a few minutes even, could grasp Tom's hand and say " Dear old fellow, I wish you joy !" Then the two strolled off again to the old orchard, and he was left alone. His heart was not broken, but it was very sad and sore.

Poor Mervyn ! He had never anticipated failure — had never dreamed that anyone could rob him of his Mabel ; and that his own brother should be his supplanter made it doubly UNDINE : A ROMANCE OF MODERN DAYS. 13 hard. From the sight of a stranger's happiness he could escape, but not from Tom's. He must endure, day by day, to see her lavish upon another the thousand tokens of affection he himself had hoped to win. His love, though in its nature rare, was very strong. It is not often that calm cousinly affection ripens into love, but when it does it is more mighty, more enduring, than one of mushroom growth ; there are so many ties — of kindred, association, intimacy — to strengthen it, and it is hard that in one moment these should ruthlessly be set aside. Can you not feel for Mervyn Legh, on whom the blow fell suddenly, without an instant's warning — without a ray of hope ?

Passing by the beech-tree arbour, a curious impulse sent him in, and sitting down upon the very chair which he had taken yesterday, the whole scene came before him with a bitter sense of all that he had lost — Mabel looking so beautiful, so sweet, so tender, with the kindly welcome in her soft grey eyes. He who had loved her so long could never forget that charming vision. Yet even then she had been Tom's— Tom, who had never cared for her till lately, who must have spoken upon impulse, whose love could not be half so true as his. Did he not grudge the victory ? Did he not wish his brother the grief and pain which he was suffering now ? He did; but not for long. The noblest natures suffer most, but there is a mighty system of compensation even in this world, and he was spared the meaner jealousies of little minds.

One thing was dearer to him than his own happiness, and that was Mabel's. He ought to be thankful, though it was purchased at so great a cost. The flowers she had gathered were still upon the table — dead and faded ; they were like his life — blighted, worthless ; all the beauty and the glory gone ! He buried his face in his hands and almost groaned aloud. UNDINE ; AND OTHER STORIES, A low voice roused him. "Those are dead flowers," it said, in grave remonstrance. It came from near the pond. He turned, and through the branches saw a lovely white-robed figure with a tiny sash of green, and with floating clouds of gold about her head and neck, standing in contemplation, and with a look of pity, sorrow, and amazement in her deep blue earnest eyes. He looked at her in wonder. We do not always know the faces that we live with ; we cannot tell of what they may be capable until some great emotion has transfigured them — compassion, love, or noble indignation, brought out new beauties which we never even guessed.

And thus it was with Mervyn. He knew his cousin Lily to be a pretty child, an engaging one, a general favourite ; but he had never troubled himself about her until now, like a little water-spirit, she came to him from the pond, and he saw anew the beauty of the childish countenance. She was almost always laughing, the joyous little one ! He never remembered her so grave before, and thus he had not noticed the perfection of her features, nor the wonderful resemblance to his own lost love. "Well, dear?" he said encouragingly, in his melodious tones. " I will give you these," she answered softly, and a tiny hand was put in through the leafy screen, holding out a bunch of violets, cowslips, and cuckoo-flowers, which she thought might comfort him for the loss of those beside him, those with which his fingers had been toying when she caught sight of him.

What could have made him so sorry ? Touched by the sight of his distress, her sympathy had conquered shyness, and kept her from her play. Mervyn has that sweet spontaneous love-gift still. " Come here ! I will kiss you for them," he said; but with a merry shout Lily dashed away across the lawn to a natural UNDINE : A ROMANCE OF MODERN DAYS. 15 arbour of a weeping-ash, which she always'called her own, and thither he pursued her and caught her in his arms, while a sudden inspiration lighted up his face. " Lily, fairy, darling " — in his eagerness calling her by every endearing name that he could think of — " will you promise to love me ahvays ? " " Yes," she answered, rather awed and frightened by his manner, but too much of a coquette by nature to endeavour to escape. " You little beauty ! " he said, looking earnestly at her ; and with startling apprehension of the point of his remark, Lily answered — " I'se going to have my picture taken ; s'all I ask mamma to give it you ?