The Jewel Reputation

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BY MRS. AYLMER GO WING AUTHOR OF "BALLADS AND POEMS FOB RECITATION"," "THE CITHERN," etc., etc. " Good name in man and woman — Is the immediate jewel of their souls." Shakespeare. IN THREE VOLUMES VOL. I. LONDON SPENCER BLACKETT ((gomssor to §. & '§.. JJax'ntU) MILTON HOUSE, ST. BRIDE STREET, LUDGATE CIRCUS, E.C. 1888 \_All rights reserved^ TO 4*lrs. Wiobtvt WLvntttyam, THIS STORY, ENRICHED BY MANY SCOTTISH MEMORIES GATHERED FROM HER LIPS, IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR, Emilia Aylmer Gowing. CONTENTS CHAPTEE I. PAGE BROTHER AND SISTER . . . . . . 1

Chapter I. Brother And Sister

Here awa', there awa', wandering Willie, Now tired with wandering, haud awa' home. Burns. TGS^KLONG the wooded dell, where the S^Pv^ running stream of the North Esk, r&mr^sm after skirting the village of Roslin on the left bank, flows down towards the sea by Musselburgh, sauntered, side by side, a youth and a maiden. Down towards the sea, through the sylvan glories of Hawthornden, deep and low between the wood-crowned steep on either hand, flows the lovely river, by the VOL. I. B romantic site of Lasswade, and on to the noble park of Dalkeith, to wed its bride, the South Esk, and speed on their mingled waters as the River Esk. Many a crowd of human life, passing from time to time, like light winds, along its " banks and braes," has followed its course to the sea by Mussel burgh ; and here the path of waters and men stands still, being bounded by "The Links," a sweep of grass set between town and sea, where Oliver mustered his troops before the march to Dunbar, in the old days when there were giants upon that same earth, where the athletic youth of modern Athens are much addicted to the manly game of golf, volunteer reviewing, and such like wholesome excreises, and where, in August, the more questionable sport of horse-racing takes its ground.

The two young people we have noted, took no heed of those scenes, familiar to them from childhood ; their thoughts were all of themselves. They were not lovers, there was no clinging to each other as they walked, though it was evident a strong bond united them, the rare and beautiful love between brother and sister, that so seldom endures to the days of manhood through the rubs and trials of family life. The boy was a sailor, which perhaps may account for this fast home affection ; a com mon seaman by his dress, with the bold, brave look that well becomes a man, and shows him nobler than his station, too often bound in poverty and misfortune. The girl, though very plainly dressed, could be taken for nothing but a lady born, tall and lithe beyond the common make of woman ; although there was little more than a year between their ages, and the lad was well-grown for his seventeen years, she stood some inch or two higher than her brother.

She had such beauty that it was hard to believe she could ignore her gift, yet it was the simple truth that she did so. Not absolutely fault less in feature, she had the rich red and b fresh white of youth's most delicate bloom, with the light of deep blue eyes, and a smile of indescribable charm to lend the witchery of expression to a combination not to be summed up in words ; a woman to attract the love of any man. Her hair, gathered into a huge coil of burnished gold at the back of her head, and drawn off her brows, seemed cast in a Grecian mould, so obstinate was the irrepressible ripple which no harsh discipline of brush nor cruel tightening string could subdue, as it rolled like bronze enduring the hand of time. In vain, misled by advice of her elders, she had fought against nature with oil, and dimmed the lustre of the gold that crowned her by birthright, a queen among her sisters ; darkened and disguised, her long hair was a glory to her still.

She wore a brown mushroom hat, the headgear most affected by all sorts and conditions of women, from Majesty downwards, in those bright summer days ; a dark tartan shawl was gracefully draped over her bosom and shoulders, for a chill wind swept up the river, even in that June afternoon. From the waist down, the long outlines of her figure were discernible to a degree unusual in those days, when the broad sweep of crinoline superseded the divinity of the female form. Our lassie's shape had no disguise beneath the box-pleats of a dark stuff gown, more than a starched skirt or two, so that she was draped no more, nor less, than the maidens painted by Titian, whom in outline and colour she resembled to the life. There was low music when she broke the charm of silence. "My own Willie, you have made me so happy.

How good of you to come for mother's sake ! What she has suffered for you, oh, if you only knew ! " " You have told her nothing yet ? " asked the boy, hanging his head. " Not a word. Till you should see me, you wrote, I was to keep your secret even from mother; but Willie, dearie, may I tell her now l. " We shall see about that, before we say good-bye. Wait till you have heard everything I have to tell you, Annie, and I will tell vou what no other human being should drag out of me. But mind I don't bring you into trouble. Nobody saw you receive my letter ? " " Nobody, dear. I was coming out of the school, when your messenger gave it to me ; he made believe to beg at first, and asked me my name, to make sure, he said, before he gave it." " Sharp lad ! Well, it has brought you here to meet me."

"And you will come back home? But," she added, with an involuntary look at his common sailor's garb, " not like that." "Best stop away, now that I have dropped out of the circle at home ; I was the one too many. I have no other clothes." " Willie, dear, if you meant to leave us, you might have written ; but to steal away like that, without a word for a whole twelve month — you have nearly broken mother's heart." " I am not worth that, but I am sorry. Father was too hard, and that drove me to do it. I felt I was in the way, and had no chance but to go to sea." " But why did you not write % " I felt ashamed at first, and then — as time went on — I suppose one forgets what one has left behind." " Oh, Willie ! " " Well, no. Perhaps I felt too much, and could not trust myself; I wished to keep my resolution never to return."

" But why ? Father would not have forced you into the ministry, if you felt you had no call. Why did you not say so, and ask to be put to some business " "There was the whole sting of it. I was all for the Church, from a boy ; but they told me I had a hesitation of speech, that I TEE JEWEB REPUTATION 8 could never be a preacher, I was only fit to teach children in the schools, and that I hated, so I spoke to father about it, and asked him if there were not doctors, or teachers, who could cure stammering ; but he said that was a delusion, and got angry with me for wanting to attempt it. He said I was rebelling against Providence, and then I answered him, and we had some words. I cannot help it now." " But you are sorry, are you not ? " I am not sorry." " You should be, Willie ; it was a great it Sill.

" Well, I was not altogether wrong ; I speak better than I did. I know I could be cured." " Well, perhaps, Willie ; if you will come to us, I am sure everything will be done to try and help you." "Not till I have helped myself first," smiled the boy. " I think I have found a way, and then " " If all goes well, you will be a minister, and may yet have a charge like our father's, and be as good a man." " Not as good, I am afraid ; not like him, I am sure. No, I might serve God in another way — out in the world, as a missionary, for instance, that would suit me better." " You will never stop at home again ? " " Scarcely, after sailing half round the world. If the Free Kirk will not have me on those conditions, there are lots of societies that will take a young fellow like me for the asking, only I must get over my infirmity of speech."

" I understand you plain enough." " I am not nervous talking to you, but I must be taught before I can preach to others." " But I don't see what is to be done ! " " Listen to me, Annie. There is a lady lives within a few miles of this in the summer-time, a worthy lady and a clever one, who can do kind things, I'm told, though TEE JEWEB REPUTATION she's hard in business. I believe she's the only one in Edinburgh town that can teach me what I want to learn." " Is she an Edinburgh lady ? " "Not born; she came from the South. She lives in Edinburgh through the winter, and as I tell you, she is now in her country house, on the Musselburgh Road." "And how is she to be induced to teach you ? " " That's just it ; I don't dare to go up and ask her myself, but if mother and you were to go, I don't think she would say ' no,' so long as you told her every particular."

"And so we will!" cried the sister joy fully. " I'll take mother to see her to-morrow, or the next day ; mother must take her time. But you have not told me the lady's name." " Mrs. Headly." "Mrs. Headly. I seem to have heard of her " — the girl paused, thinking. " Why, that's the same name as Mrs. Headly, the actress, that the people in Edinburgh have so many arguments about, only of course 'tis quite a different lady you speak of, a real lady." " Mrs. Headly, the actress, the manageress of the ' Prince's,' that is the lady I mean." " Willie, you could not mean it ? What ! Ask her to teach you to preach ? " "Well, not quite that, but to read the Bible with effect, and to speak so as to be clearly heard at a distance." " Willie, you must be mad ! Do you sup pose your father would ever consent ?

" " He need not be asked to consent. Let my defect be cured before I ask him to re ceive me, and then, this one more crime can be added to the rest ; when I am a trained speaker, he will be more ready, per haps, to forgive all." " Not if you deliberately resort to sinful means. " You provoke me, Annie ; what sin is there in asking help of a good woman because she happens to be on the stage ? Why, our strictest preacher, Mr. Curse himself, admits that there have been many noble-minded men and women actors and actresses." "But it is a sin to act in a theatre." "So the editor of The Latter-Day Neivs says — Mr. Hater — but he takes Mrs. Headly's money to advertise the performances. I say he is inconsistent in touching the accursed thing at all." " But we've got nothing to do with that, only to answer for ourselves.

I suppose it is his living to advertise in his paper." " Then be as charitable to me, when I act for myself, and get my living as I can. It is no sin to be taught by an actress in private, when I'm getting my bread by doing her work for the public." " How, Willie, whatever do you mean to tell me ? " asked the girl, with open eyes of wonder. " I did not mean to tell you at all — but, well — yes, you had better know. I won't be a sneak for fear of what you and mother will say, and remember father's not to hear a mention of my name until after this business is done with ; mind, you must pass me your solemn word." " I do, Willie " I've got a berth these last few days, to earn a few shillings by helping that same sharp lad, George M'Kay, who brought you my letter ; we were mates at school long ago, and I've stood his friend in a quarrel more than once, because I'm bigger than he is, so now he has done me a good turn.

He and his father are check-takers, and the old man has been ill these past two weeks, so I've got his place at the theatre." " Oh, Willie ! a check-taker ! How did you come to that '( " " What do you suppose it means, then — something prodigiously wicked ? " " How am I to tell ? But at the theatre -your father- " Yes, he'd be ashamed of that. He need never be told, for your sake, but I don't mind. I've been a cabin-boy for a twelvemonth." "But, Willie, didn't they pay you? Have you got no money ? " " I hadn't a groat in my pocket when George M'Kay gave me a meal ; I was hungry too. Believe me, Annie, I've been badly off; I was in a lodging at Leith, where I was plundered of every penny in one night." " How could they — who were they that did that ? " " The companions I fell in with ; but don't let us speak of it any more."

"Why not, Willie? Don't you remember ever since we were children you've told me all your troubles, because I was your elder sister ? " " Oh, ay, those were a boy's troubles ; I am a man now. I don't care to tell all my faults to you." " I am sorry to hear you say so ; I am afraid you have done something worse than I can imagine, but your mother, I know, will help you, if you'll only come back to us." " That is my wish, but it must be brought about in my way, not in yours, Annie. I am tired enough, God knows, of a bad life." " You'll never be safe from bad com panions while you go about like that. I've heard father say a sailor on shore is ex posed to every temptation. We must get you some decent clothes." " Don't trouble about that, I shall earn money to buy clothes ; but about paying the lady for her teaching — I don't know — mother and you might explain to her.

I'll pay her when I can earn the money." " Will it be very much ? I know mother would rather find it " " I would rather she did not ; it is better for me to work for it, and that Mrs. Headly will understand." "We will go and see her to-morrow. And, Willie, I know mother will want to see you : you'll come to her soon, you'll promise me ? " "Yes, anywhere but at home. Father must know nothing, or if he does, I'm off to sea, and you'll never see me again while I live. And now I'll say good-bye, for it's growing late, and I must be back to my duty to-night." " Where shall we write to you ? "No need to write. I'm at the theatre, the ' Prince's ; ' Mrs. Headly knows where to find me. Good-bye, God bless you, Annie." And so they parted with a brotherly kiss, and the girl went home with a joyful heart, though promise-bound to hold her peace.

She did not dare to share the good news that night with her sick mother, almost dying for want of that darling boy, who had wounded her with so cruel a blow. Another unhappy night ; morning meal and morning prayer had to be gone through, and many more duties had to be done, before the daughter could speak her heart out alone with the mother, and they comforted one another with hope of the lost. VOL. I. c

Chapter II

a mother's obedience. WILL do it, and the dear boy is right," said his mother, as soon as all was explained. " Yes, he is right ; your father must have nothing to say to it till we succeed, and when the thing is past and gone, he will forgive us. I do not believe that it is wrong, so that God should be displeased with us." " We should not do it if we believed SO. " This is the only chance for my poor boy. It cannot be a sin to save him. Your father was too hard, I told him so. A MOTEER'S OBEBIENGE 19 He is the best man that ever lived him self, a saint on earth, but others cannot have the same measure of grace ; he does not see that, and so the poor child was driven away." " Don't cry, mother, he is found again." " Yes, for us, [but we dare not tell his father ; we have to work for him by stealth."

" Suppose we told him all, and asked his leave ? " " You forget, my child, your promise to your brother ; that must be kept sacred." " Yes, yes, I do remember ; Heaven help me, my mind is confused, mother, by your grief." "I must get over it, and let us set to work at once. Your father will be out till dinner-time ; leave your school work for to-day, but send word you have business, and come with me to Mussel burgh till we see what can be done. I'll c borrow Mrs. Kirkland's pony-chaise to take us." So it was resolved, and carried out within half an hour, with feminine haste and zeal, such as suffer no grass to grow beneath the swift and willing feet of helpfulness. Down they drove towards Musselburgh and the sea, Annie's deft hands holding the reins, while her mother leaned back, faint from her long suspense, and sighed as she came near a place burdened with sad associations for her.

Here it was that her son had been used to spend his Saturday evenings, away from the family psalm-singing, at the game of golf, being, from a lad, an enthusiast at that sport, against which his father had an unaccountable prejudice, and out of this disobedience had grown the first serious difference between her husband and her boy. Truly the bitter root had borne sad fruit, in mutual distrust, widening the breach, until the rash youth slipped from the family chain. What would his father say now to the part she was about to play on the boy's behalf ? Her love for both was in battle against itself, and her conscience smote her with a sense of wrong doing ; for even if the means to be used might be excused, the necessity of conceal ment bore its own condemnation. If not the act, the deceit going with it was a sin, whence she feared no good could come of it, yet she persevered in obedience to a child's wishes, for whom she was ready to sacrifice herself to the uttermost ; scarcely would she have refused to give her soul for her son.

Her heart misgave her, and she would have turned back from the gates set in a high, blank wall that bounded Mrs. Headly's summer domain, but that Annie, jumping down, gave her the reins to hold, with an energetic charge to keep them fast, while she rang, and inquired whether Mrs. Headly was at home. Mrs. Headly was so, but whether ready to receive visitors the deponent would not undertake to vouch for, until the name was taken in. "Mrs. Bell, the minister's lady," said Annie, with quick presence of mind, before her mother's half-spoken re monstrance could interrupt her. " Why did you say that ? It might be any Mrs. Bell ; what is the good of compromising me ? " she pleaded, while the operation of inquiry was proceeding, but after a brief agony, word was brought, " Mrs. Headly will be most happy to see you, ma'am," and the servant spoke with the hearty grin that ushers in an approved guest.

Neither did Mrs. Headly consider it stood with her dignity to impose any long proba tion in the ante-chamber between her presence and her visitors ; two minutes, and a quick, firm step brought her into her pleasant drawing-room, through a window opening from the garden. Without preparation or apology, she showed herself in the plainest of black stuff gowns, and with smooth, tight hair, not unbecoming a Sunday School teacher. Altogether Mrs. Headly was en tirely unlike any preconceived notions her visitors had formed of her. She was a woman such as in any station must have made her mark in the world. Broad-browed and broad-chested, a power to command was stamped upon her from crown to toe ; an eye that would not take " no " for an answer ; a fine person, though she was scarcely to be reckoned tall, certainly not stout.

To beauty she did not pretend, although sufficiently personable to satisfy the eye in any charac ter suitable to her talents, with an audience not educated to sacrifice all other artistic requirements for the mere accident of looking the part, and here was not the woman to play the fool under any temptation. With a face and form convertible to suit many exigencies, she knew that she could depend upon herself to supply the place of any leading lady who might disappoint the public through accident, or of any recalcitrant star who at the last moment would refuse to appear excepting on conditions of managerial surrender, to which Mrs. Headly was never known to succumb, nor yet, through holding out, to close her theatre. It was her un qualified boast, that her faith with the public had never yet been broken.

" You'll excuse me, ladies " — she opened the conversation without more ado — " I receive you just as I am, at work among my flowers. The minister's lady, I believe ? I know your good husband by report." " Everybody knows him, everybody re spects him," essayed Mrs. Bell, at once at home with the stranger. "May I ask to what I owe the honour of your visit ? I only do so, that I may meet your views ; I'm sure I am most happy to make your acquaintance." " We are very homely, quiet people ; we don't go into the world," pleaded the minis ter's wife, somewhat taken aback by the offer of an intimacy which was not what she came for. " Well, that's much my own position," was the amazing reply. " The fact is, dear Mrs. Bell, I've got no time to throw away. I'm a busy woman in my way, at least as busy as you can be.

I've heard of your going about doing good, and if you want my help in any cause in which you are interested, I'm at your service, and my theatre as well." " Since you are so kind, I do not want anything, but — I've come to speak to you for my son. I believe he is in your employ ment." " How ! your son ! Is it possible ? Oh, then, I'll see he gets brought to the front." " His father would never consent — never forgive him, I'm afraid, if he knew " Here Mrs. Bell's voice choked in her throat ; she felt quite unable to finish her sentence without offence. " I understand," quoth the managerial dame, bridling up. " You object to our profession, you wish him to do something better. Well, why do you come to me ? You had better look to him yourselves, or he may do something worse." "No, no; I didn't intend to say — he is not placed as you are ; he is doing the work of a common gate-keeper, taking checks ; you would not let your son do that !

" "I would, rather than see him idle. Do you know, my good lady, St. Paul is rather hard upon idleness ? He says, ' If a man will not work, neither shall he eat.' I say so too ; mind you don't bring up your son to be a scourge to you when you're old." Here Annie interposed, her mother being evidently unequal to the emergency. " My brother is willing to work in his father's calling — the ministry — but he cannot be a preacher unless he can get over a trouble with his speech. He says you can cure him, and teach him to speak plainly ; if you will, and say nothing to anybody, we will do anything in the world to repay you, my mother and I." " Is that all ? " said Mrs. Headly, half piqued at the condition of secrecy, altogether tempted by the situation of reading mistress to a family so nearly allied to the redoubtable Free Kirk.

" Let him come to my room to-morrow after rehearsal, and I'll see what I can do for him." " You think he can be taught to get over it ? " asked the mother. " We will try. I know what you w*ant. I'll just show you," and Mrs. Headly took a large, handsomely-bound Bible from a book-shelf, spread it open at the parable of "the Prodigal Son," and read. Did she fall upon the passage by design, to touch an unresisting chord in the mother's heart ? She kept that to herself, but, before she brought her voice to a pause, her small audience was quite overcome ; mother and daughter, with washed eyes and bosoms shaken with sobs, were clasped in each other's arms. " Oh, if my boy could only read like that!" said the mother. "But you have a special gift ; 'tis wonderful, I do not know what to say." " You have given me the highest tribute, your tears, dear Mrs. Bell.

Your boy shall read with as much pathos as there is in his nature ; I cannot give him that, but I can draw it out, in time. Remember, I have worked hard all my life ; I know where to make my effects." What this had to do with the matter was an inexplicable marvel to Mrs. Bell, who could not see that there was an art at all in the power that moved her ; but once moved, she showed herself hard to be comforted. " I made sure he was dead," she moaned, " when I never heard from him for a whole twelvemonth. No mother ever had such sorrow as he has brought to me." "You may think so, but 'tis the too common return they make us. I had a young brother who served us the same way, five years ago, but I do not set him down as dead." " That is very different from my case ; his father has never been the same man since Willie left us."

" But my child," Mrs. Headly said, though looking much the younger woman of the two, " you make him worse by always pitying him, and nursing his trouble, I'll answer for you ; why, you are all feeling, nothing but a mere bundle of nerves. You should put on a spirit, if you have not got it, to keep your husband up. I've had to do that many a time with our papa ; he's a strong fellow, six feet high, and so, whenever there's any trouble, he always leaves me to fight it out by myself. You take a wrinkle from me, my dear, and do the like." "My mother is worn out by the care of us six children," put in Annie, on behalf of the discomposed "bundle of nerves," that could not pull itself together at anybody's bidding. "I've had nine — seven now living," was Mrs. Headly's sharp, unanswerable reply. "I've had to work hard, and fight my way through all sorts of troubles, while I was having my family.

I know what can be done. You take my advice : I'll look after your boy." "But I do not know how to explain to you — your — your remuneration," faltered the minister's wife. " Oh, we must think about that ; I have never done anything of this kind before." " We cannot afford much at once, but if you will give us time, we will pay you what ever is right ; and this must be in confidence between us. His father does not know that Willie has come back, and I have promised to keep the boy's secret — until he mends his position." " Oh, I see," said Mrs. Headly, with a world of meaning in a couple of words, sollowed by a pause, in which she thought out in brief her course in the matter. " Suppose I trust you, I make no doubt you would keep your word. We live by our credit. Five years ago we were burnt out.