In Hiding

Front matter

■ I ■ IN THE SPRING TIME. By Alice Weber. Crown 8 vo., cloth, 6s. i [Now ready. A HOUSETUL OF GIRLS. Ey Sarah Tytler. Crown Svo., cloth, 6s. [Now ready. PEN. Bythe Author of " Tip-Cat," "Laddie," "MissToosey's Mission." Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. " No sketch that it would be possible to give of this dainty novelette with the monosyllabic title ' Pen,' would give any idea of the fascination it possesses. A pleasanter story is seldom to be met with." — Scotsman. " There is unforced fidelity to nature in the studies of the two little girls Pen and Tre." — Saturday Review. " The plot though slight is effective, the pathos is genuine, and rings true." — Athenæum. ANGELA. A Sketch by Alice Weber. 4*0., parchment wrapper, with Illustrations by T. Pym, is. 6d. " A pretty story. Miss Weber paints her stories with a skil ful and delicate hand.

The book is a study, and certainly an interesting one." — Spectator. "A most delightful and entrancing story."— Church Bells. BY M. BRAMSTON, AUTHOR OF "RALPH AND BRUNO," " UNCLE IVAN," " ON CHARACTER," ETC. 'The thorn comes forth with his point forwards.' LONDON: WALTER SMITH AND INNES, 31 & 32, BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, W.C. 1889. [A II rights reserved. Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London & Bungay. CONTENTS.

Part II

I. UNSATISFIED... ... ... ... ... 13S II. FEVER ... ... ... ... ... 14S III. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING ... ... ... 158 IV. BERTHA ... ... ... ... ... 170 V. ON THE TRAIL ... ... ... ... 1S0 VI. ASKING FOR COUNSEL ... ... ... 190 VII. A NAUGHTY CHILD 1 99 VIII. CONFESSION 2IO Contents. VIII CHAP. PAGE IX. REPARATION ... ... ... ... 232 X. CARRIED OFF ... ... ... ... 242 XI. DETRACTION ... ... ... ... 255 XII. HELP ... ... ... ... ... 269 XIII. GOSSIP FLOUTED ... ... ... ... 28 1 XIV. A QUIET END ... ... ... ... 293 XV. REPENTANCE ... ... ... ... 306 XVI. A CHAMPION TO THE RESCUE ... ... 319 XVII. IN LYONNESSE ... ... ... ... 345 XVIII. CONCLUSION ... ... ... ...

PART I CHAPTER

I. 'POCAHONTAS.' HORNBRIDGE is a fairly average English country town, built upon the river Horn, just where it ceases to be a quiet sluggish stream and becomes tidal. It has a large church with a fine perpen dicular tower, whose four pinnacles catch the eye some way down the estuary of the river ; it has its slums, low alike in level and character, huddled down on the left side of the wharf, and its west end residences on the high ground, of which the prettiest and most comfortable at the date of this story were ranged round the Green, a wide expanse of open turf with some fine elm-trees on it, and one or two duck-ponds, picturesque if not lake-like in extent. At the town end of the B Green stood the church and vicarage, and at the country end a tall, dark, red, square-windowed abode- — real Queen Anne — behind a high wall and clipped limes.

This was the Grove, the oldest house on the Green. The others did not date beyond the present century. The Grove was the most imposing house on the Green, but as it was inhabited by a widower in delicate health with one little boy, it did not "live up to" its capacities. Socially, the house by far the most looked up to was the Red House, where a certain old Lady Susan Verney lived with her niece, Miss Hughes. Lady Susan was an invalid, but she was one of those invalids who make a kind of social centre. In the years during which she had lived at Hornbridge it had become a duty in the eyes of everybody in the town of a certain social standing to pay her their regular visits, to send her flowers on her birthday, and fruit and game whenever any little delicacy of that sort was abundant with them.

She was the object of the kindliness and social attention of the little world at Hornbridge, and she kept her modest court like a queen — perhaps inspiring more than she knew of those old world social graces ' POCAHONTAS.' 3 which are so apt to die out without encouragement in these bustling democratic days. Lady Susan's eminence at Hornbridge was social ; that of her niece, Alda Hughes, was intel lectual. Alda Hughes had been slightly deformed from childhood ; she had outgrown her early delicacy so far that she was now able to do much the same as other people, and her misfortune only showed in her being on too short a scale for her frame and features, which were those of a large and tall woman. But she had a very keen, intelligent face, and was, indeed, by far the cleverest woman in Hornbridge.

She wrote in magazines, and Hornbridge was proud to think it possessed a live authoress, and looked curiously about the room in hope of catching sight of those mysterious things to the uninitiated — proof-sheets. The social eminence of the Red House was just a little galling to the Vicar, Mr. Bruton, and his wife — worthy people, but without the touch of breeding and culture which is now a less frequent concomitant of the clerical office than was the case in former days. Perhaps it was for this reason that when a rumour was spread abroad at Hornbridge that the White House — next to the Grove, B and belonging to the aristocratic preserve of the Green — was let to an American lady, they both went about publicly lamenting the misfortune. " An American is certain to be vulgar," said Mrs. Bruton.

" Oh yes, I know there are plenty of Americans who have married into the peerage ; but still, you know, to me, nothing makes up for the want of the real tiling." "Well, Mrs. Bruton," said Lady Susan, "I am quite looking forward to seeing a person who will most likely be a little different to our other friends ; it will be a pleasant change." " Oh, Lady Susan ! but that horrible accent ! I am sure she will excruciate all our ears ! " Alda Hughes smiled a little, for Mrs. Bruton's own was not sans reproche ; but Lady Susan only said, in her sweet old lady's voice — " Perhaps our own ' good communications ' may amend ' evil manners.' I confess I am curious to see her." Mrs. Bruton was not the only person exercised in mind with regard to the new-comers. Little Denzil Enderby, in the intervals of a game at trap-bat with Lady Susan's little Indian grandchildren, Horace and Tommy, communicated the news to them. ' POCAHONTAS.' 5 " I say !

Do you know there's going to be a real American woman at the White House ? Isn't it fun ? " " What — a savage ? " said Tommy. " I'm afraid she must have been converted," said Denzil, regretfully ; " but I do hope she'll wear her native dress sometimes ! " " Was she ever a cannibal, do you suppose ? " said Horace, with widening eyes. " N — no. I suppose there are no cannibals on the mainland, only in the islands. But" (with joy) " perhaps she'll put on her wampum and feathers some time to show us — and wouldn't it be jolly if she would teach us a war-dance ? " " What is a war-dance ? " said the more ignorant Tommy. " What the warriors dance before they go to battle." " But you said she was a woman." " Perhaps her husband used to dance them once, so that she could show us. I've made up a name for her — Pocahontas.

That's a real Red Indian name, you know." Pocahontas, alias Mrs. Maynard, the new tenant of the White House, stood in the sunny window of her breakfast-room a few days after this. She had got into the house sooner than it is usually possible for a new-comer to do, because there was a certain amount of furniture which the incoming tenant had the option of buying ; and it was more convenient to her to put in her servants, her nurse, and her little girl, and then to go up to London, if necessary, to get whatever necessaries of life could not be procured at Hornbridge. The child, who was about nine years old, was a merry, rosy, high-spirited little creature, with fair hair, dark eyes, and straight-marked eyebrows, and was frisking about the sunny lawn with a skipping rope, followed by a Persian kitten with a blue ribbon round its neck.

Bessie Maynard bore very small resemblance to the squaw whom her small neighbour at the Grove had desired to see. She was tall, slight, upright, with a rich complexion, straight features, and abundant gray hair, which gave the effect of powder rather than of age, and made her look not unlike a marquise of the Ancien Regime. Yet it was not a happy face, though its owner was evidently in the prime of matured womanhood and in vigorous health. There was an anxious, harassed look in the finely ' Pocahontas.' 7 curved mouth and in the clear dark-brown eyes, which only seemed to vanish when a sudden flashing smile lighted up the face at little Elys's pranks. And there was no touch of Americanism in the clear refined intonation in which she cried — " Elys, little one ! make haste and come in to breakfast.

You will have all day to explore the garden in." " Mother," said Elys, " I do hope there are lots of children here for me to play with ! Oh, I wish Kitty and Josis and Minnie and all the children at Boston could come and see what a lovely garden I've got here!" " We shall see," said Bessie, " when we have been here a little longer. I shall find out what children will be nice for you to play with." " What will their names be, mother ? " " My dear, I don't know. I don't know the name of a single person in Hornbridge yet ; but I dare say I soon shall." And in fact Mrs. Maynard's first acquaintance in Hornbridge was made no later than that very day, and through the medium of Elys. It happened thus. The furniture was being put into its place in the drawing-room, and Elys had been sent out to play in the garden ; the fact of having a garden in which she could run and shout without having to be called to order for making every one stare at her, was simply bliss to the child after the constrained life of the Boston boarding-house.

She was thoroughly happy in exploring the kitchen-garden ; the flower-garden she thought dull, and felt to be conventional ; but the kitchen-garden was absolute bliss. She explored a very dusty tool-house, and out of the recesses picked up the saucer of a flower-pot, with only a little piece chipped out of the brim, and a very aged hoe, of which the handle was broken, so that she felt that by its length it was providentially destined for her. Then she found a few late gooseberries, and two or three bunches of red currants, still hanging on the neglected bushes, and ate them with much joy. Then she walked in among some tall Jerusalem artichokes, and among the delicate feathers of an old asparagus bed, imagining to herself that it was a tropical forest ; for Elys had just been reading one of Mayne Reid's books, and had been much impressed by the scenery.

Then she began to carry on her imaginary drama till she ' Pocahontas.' 9 almost thought she saw a lion glaring at her out of the lilac-bushes which shut off the flower garden, probably a reminiscence of the picture in Agatlios ; the tropical jungle lost its charm, and to break the spell, she thought she would climb the wall, and see whether there was as nice a jungle in the next garden ; and also be safe from the imaginary lion in this, which had not sufficient substance to be able to climb the wall after her, though it might hurry her steps in passing the lilac-bushes. There was a heap of rubbish against the wall, which made it quite easy to climb ; and Elys climbed it and sat astride on it, with a slim little leg in a black stocking hanging down on each side. She looked into the next garden, which in some ways corresponded with the garden of the White House ; she saw there a neatly kept kitchen garden, with smooth gravel walks, and laden espalier apple-trees fringing the garden beds.

But what interested her more than anything else was that in the distance she saw a little boy in knicker bockers, with his back turned towards her, doing something mysterious to the bark of a great elm tree at the end of the long path up which she looked. This drove the lion quite out of Elys's head. The chance of a playfellow of her own age opened up limitless possibilities of delight. She was not quite bold enough to get over the wall into a garden that belonged to some one else, but at the same time she was determined to make the little boy know she was there ; so, sitting on the wall, she sang out in a clear shrill childish voice — " I had a little nut-tree, nothing would it bear But a silver nutmeg and a golden pear ; The King of Spain's daughter came to visit me, And all for the sake of my little nut-tree."

The song was successful. Elys was quite conscious that the little boy turned round instantly, left his occupation, and gradually made his way up towards the wall where she was sitting ; but she pretended to see nothing, and went on singing till she suddenly turned round and faced him, and they stared at each other. Then Elys, who, having been a considerable traveller for her years, was naturally less shy than the little Hornbridge boy, said quite calmly — " Do you ever sit on this wall like me ? " " No, I never did," said the boy. ' Pocahontas.' 11 " Come and get up here," said Elys. " It's a very jolly place." The little fellow, though small and slight, was very nimble and active, and he swung himself up without much difficulty, though there was no friendly rubbish-heap on his side of the wall, and sat astride, facing Elys.

" What is your name ? " was the next question " Denzil Enderby. What's yours ? " " Elys Maynard. We've just come to the house in here," and she waved her hand in its direction. Whether Denzil were disappointed or not that Elys did not wear feathers and wampum, he was too much of a gentleman to betray it. She went on — " I say, what do you think happened when they picked the silver nutmeg and the golden pear? and did they let the King of Spain's daughter have it?" This necessitated a repetition of the song, and the children had varying views on the point. Denzil said he did not believe any good came out of the silver nutmeg and golden pear, and if the King of Spain's daughter picked it, it turned to ashes, like apples of Sodom. Elys had never heard of apples of Sodom, and accepted them, on Denzil's authority, as a fact in natural history ; but she was sure there was something lovely in the silver nutmeg and golden pear, and that something very nice came out ; perhaps a little crown and sceptre that got bigger till you were able to put them on, or perhaps a fairy that granted you three wishes.

" Father says," said Denzil, " that if we had three wishes we shouldn't know what would really make us happy, and that the things that have made him happiest are things that he would most have wished should not happen at all." " He mightn't know," said Elys, tossing her head; "but I should." Then as Denzil seemed rather shocked at the audacity of this remark, she changed the subject by asking what Denzil had been doing with the tree at the end of the garden. " It's — it's — will you promise truly not to tell anybody if I tell you ? " "Yes, quite truly," said Elys " Well, it's an invention of mine. It's to make a turning-lathe, so that I can turn things for father, But you must never tell anybody — never. Especially the Verneys." ' Pocahontas.' 13 " Who are the Verneys ? " " The boys that live in the Red House."

" All right. I don't know them ; but I won't tell." " Well — I don't know that I can explain so well as I can show you. Can you jump off the wall ? " In a moment Elys was down ; and in another moment she and Denzil were bending over a miscellaneous collection, comprising a torn towel, a wooden ribbon-roller, a large nail and some tacks, an old blade of a knife without any handle, a ball of string, and a hammer. " That's my invention," said Denzil, proudly. " You see, all that has to be done is to fix the blade into the roller, and fasten the string on, and tie the string to the roller, and then fix the roller to the tree on this nail, and wind it round and round. You know turning-lathes cut things by going round very fast, don't you ? Well, then somebody will hold the thing that is to be turned against the blade, and I shall take the end of the string and run as hard as ever I can down the path ; that will make the roller go round, and the blade will cut what you hold against it.

I don't see why it shouldn't be really as good as a real turning-lathe ! " " But what is the towel for ? " said Elys. " Why, I don't want anybody to see it till it's done, you know ; so I thought if I nailed up this bit of towel against the tree it would cover it up." " We might nail that up now," said Elys. " I never hammered anything ; do let me ! Then it will be ready when you have fixed the blade upon the roller ! " They were proceeding to carry out this provi dent arrangement, and had actually driven a tack through one end of the towel into the bark, when steps were heard, and Denzil said, " There's father ; let's come and meet him. I don't want him to see my turning-lathe till it's done." And throwing down his hammer he took Elys's hand and led her up to the flower-garden, where a tall slight man with a long grayish beard was slowly pacing towards them.

Why, Denzil, whom have we got here ? " he said. " Elys Maynard," he said ; and the little girl said with sudden compunction, " I got over the wall ; please, do you mind ? " "Not at all," he said, laughing; "but how are you to get back again ? " ' Pocahontas.' 15 " Oh, round by the gate," said Elys, calmly, " And so you are the little American girl. Do you find England very small after America ? " " No !" said Elys with decision ; "America is a poky hole. There was no room to play. This is much bigger." This novel conception entertained Dr. Enderby very much ; and it was not until some minutes had gone by that he said, " By the way, little lady, if you got over the wall and no one knows you are here, they will be looking for you. I will take you round home." " Oh, and, father," said Denzil, " do ask them to let her come and play with rne again !

" So Dr. Enderby went round to the front-door of the White House, where Mrs. Maynard herself happened to be in the passage. Her handsome face and princess-like carriage struck Dr. Enderby much, and so did also the pure tones of her voice and her easy and self-possessed manner. She on her part was also agreeably surprised with his high bred gentlemanly tone ; in fact, Dr. Enderby had perhaps expected something of the typical Yankee, while Bessie had put down her neighbour as a mere country doctor — a class which she somewhat despised. She acceded at once to his request that Elys should come the next day and spend the afternoon with his little boy. " Denzil is an only child, and has few playfellows ; he is not at all rough," said his father, " and it will be a great pleasure to him to have a companion.

He was very delicate as a little child, and though he is now growing fairly strong, I think he is more fit to play with girls than boys, and enjoys their society more." So before the Maynards were well settled in the White House, Elys and Denzil were established as daily companions. A day or two later two more visitors appeared in Bessie's drawing-room. The first was little Mrs. Bruton, in whom Bessie saw an active little woman, who had once been pretty, but whom cares, many children, and parish work combined, had worn down to age before her time, and who combined cheerfulness and tartness in her countenance. She had not many ideas, poor woman, beyond Sunday schools and district visiting, and the difficulty of keeping the coal and clothing club accounts straight ; though when once at her ease, she had an extremely fluent flow of conversation on the ' Pocahontas.' 17 subject of her neighbours.

Bessie asked the names and ages of her children, and endeavoured to be polite and amiable, but the result was not very successful. " She was civil enough," said Mrs. Bruton to her husband ; " but I feel certain she thinks a great deal of herself. It wasn't that she said anything exactly that you could take hold of, but I felt as if she was talking down to me, and I think it's nothing but impertinence in an American and a foreigner !" " Perhaps she has considered herself a great lady in America," said Mr. Bruton. "Well, she won't find that kind of behaviour go down here," said his wife, tartly. The next visitor was Miss Hughes, from the other side of the Green, whose experience of Bessie Maynard was not that of condescension, intentional or unintentional. It was impossible for Bessie to look at that keen face, with its penetrating eyes, and not to feel that she was in the presence of a powerful woman in spite of her short stature ; and her manner became at once reserved and stately.

Bessie had her reasons for wishing to avoid powerful people. But Alda Hughes, who had always been a vivid observer, was not in any way daunted by Bessie's manner. She took in the stateliness of her carriage and her unusual beauty, and was certainly surprised to see the American lady turn out so very like a high-bred Englishwoman, and she was determined to find out as far as she could what Bessie's history was. She discovered that Bessie had been living first at a village called Bakersville, then that she had been educated in England, and that Elys was English by birth ; and gave in her turn sundry bits of information about Hornbridge and Hornbridge people. No one could be pleasanter or more friendly than Alda Hughes when she chose ; and at last she said, " My aunt, Lady Susan Verney, who is an invalid, charged me to say she hoped you would come and see her one day soon.

She never leaves her sofa, and a new face is really a treat to her." Now, Bessie Maynard perceptibly started, though only for a single moment. " Has she a truly American reverence of a title ? " thought Alda to herself sarcastically. But Bessie only said, " Thank you, it will give me great pleasure. Is — is she the same Lady Susan Verney, I wonder, whom some ' Pocahontas.' 19 friends of mine knew once, and who had a son who went to India ? " " The very same, probably," said Alda. " Both her sons are in India, and the little boys who live with us are her grandchildren. Their poor mother has never got over the parting, and I don't believe she ever will." It did not escape her that Mrs. Maynard locked her hands very tightly into one another — so tightly that Alda thought to herself, " She has parted with children of her own," as she said, " Was not she a Miss Farquhar ?

" " No ; a Miss Walters. My cousin met her out in India. It was the other brother who had so much to do with Sir John Farquhar, you know — if you have heard about them before?" There was a distinct mark of interrogation in Alda's voice. " I have heard the name — a long time ago," said Bessie, "when I was in England — before my marriage." " Well, Russell Verney is now Governor of Parandabad. We are all very proud of such a distinguished relation," said Alda, " for he has won his position entirely by his own merits. He was C in quite a subordinate position with Sir John Farquhar, and when Sir John fell ill, he managed the whole province throughout his illness, and got hold of the hearts of the natives, so that once when he was at Calcutta on business, and a rising was threatened, every one agreed that Verney was the only man who could stop a rising in Parandabad, and he went off at once and stopped it.

When Sir John resigned he told Lord , who was then Viceroy, that the only chance of keeping Paran dabad quiet was to let Major Verney take his place ; and in spite of all the worries about etiquette, and superseding older men and all that, he has held the post ever since." " I dare say you are very proud of your cousin," said Bessie, in an impassive tone. " Does he ever come to England?" " Yes ; he is coming, we hope, in the summer. Well, Mrs. Maynard, I must be going. I hope I have not bored you with my family histories. You must tell me yours next time we meet. I want to know so much how you heard of this little old town of ours." " I — I have nothing to tell," said Bessie, colour ing scarlet ; then with an evident effort, " Indeed, ' Pocahontas.' 21 I have nothing that is pleasant to me to talk of My married life was a very painful one — and I have come here hoping to put past memories behind me."

She spoke with constraint, and as if putting a force upon herself. "I quite understand," said Alda, "and we won't question you." " As for my coming here," said Bessie, " I wanted to come to England for Elys's sake ; and I saw the advertisement of this house in the Times and answered it. I don't think I had ever heard of Hornbridge before." " Well," said Alda, pleasantly, " I hope you will like it now that you are here." And soon after wards she departed. "She is not the least American in ways or manners," was Alda's report to her aunt, "but she is curiously reticent about herself. I can't help thinking there is a mystery somewhere about her." " My dear Alda, I hope not," said Lady Susan. " Of all things I hate mysteries." " I think she is quite proper, and well-bred and all that. Oh, I don't suppose we shall find she is an adventuress who has run away in debt.

No ; I should think really it was more likely she might have a bad husband whom she wanted to escape from." " Well, I hope she will come here," said Lady Susan, " and then I shall be able to judge how much of that seems likely in my eyes, my dear, and how much is out of the plot of your next novel."

Chapter II. The Doctor

" WELL, Dr. Enderby," said Lady Susan one day when he came to see her, smiling up at him, " we have had the American lady here. And I confess she puzzles me with her extreme reticence. A fine-looking woman she is, no doubt, and a thorough lady ; but Alda and I both agree that there is a mystery about her, and when we have nothing else to do we throw out suggestions as to what it may be." "As far as I can judge," said Dr. Enderby, "it is not a disgraceful mystery. I mean as concerns herself." " All mysteries are a little disgraceful," said Lady Susan ; "but I agree with you that she is — well, an extremely proper person. Alda and I are sure she has not run away from her husband, or got into debt, or had anything disreputable in her history such as we should all have to cut her for. But we think the husband is not really dead, and she is in hiding from him."