The Panelled House. A chronicle of two sisters' lives. (Reprinted from the 'People's Magazine.')

Front matter

THE PANELLED HOUSE, LONDON: Printed bt .Ias. Trcscott and Sow, fcuffolk Lane, City. A WALK IN THE WOOD. Frontispiece. Pagevn. % dpiipitidi; 4 ®m Sfoto*** $w& BY M. BRAMSTON. M She crossed him once, she crossed him twice. That lady was so brave ; The fouler grew his goblin hue, The darker grew the cave. She crossed him thrice, that lady bold. He rose beneath her band The fairest knight on Scottish mould." Scott. PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE COMMITTEE OF GENERAL LITERATURE AND EDUCATION, APPOINTED BY THE SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE. LONDON: SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE , SOLD AT THE DEPOSITORIES : 77 GREAT QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS; 4, ROYAL EXCHANGE ; 48, PICCADILLY ; AND BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. [Reprinted from the " People's Magazine."] CONTENTS.

Part I. Chapter Page

I. Introductory 1 II. In the Beech-wood 11 III. The Manor 18 IV. Nest's Hero 28 V. New-comers 39 VI. Making Friends 48 VII. Mrs. Heydon's Dinner-party 57 VIII. Taming the Savage 65 IX. Bed Cove 73 X. The Southshire Match 92 PAET II. I. Nest in London 103 II. Engaged 112 III. Escott's Counsellor 119 IV. Nest and Winny 127 V. A Confidence 139 VI. Inequalities 148 VII. Coming Events contents. CHAPTER PAGE VIII. Bishop Mornington's Chapel 166 IX. Divided 176 X. Nest's Troubles 184 XI. At the Manor 196 XII. Between two Burdens 204 XIII. Mr. Burnet's Proposal 217 XIV. Divulged 227 XV. Flora's Wedding 236 XVI. An Afternoon's Waiting 245 XVII. The Last Hope 259 XVIII. Too Late 273

Part III

I. The Vacant Chair 284 II. The Grave of the Past 294 III. At Last 304 IV. Recognised 314 V. The Prophecy Fulfilled 323 VI. Conclusion % %orarU of Star Sisters* fines.

Part I. Chapter

I. INTRODUCTORY. " Not wholly in the busy world, nor quite Beyond it, blooms the garden that I love. News from the humming city comes to it In sound of funeral or of marriage bells, And, sitting muffled in dark leaves, you hear The windy clanging of the minster clock." Tennyson. Lyke is an inland village in one of our southern counties, not far from the town of Erconbury, which boasts a cathedral and the remains of an old Koman wall. Erconbury itself is a quiet, sleepy old place, connected with the busy world by the railroad which runs through it, but by nothing else. The great pile of the cathedral sleeps in the sun as though conscious of the many centuries it has stood there, and weary of its long survival of the scenes and ideas of its youth : the rooks circle round its grey spire from their nests in the trees in the Close ; and the houses cluster near it as if seeking its protection, and yet not too close, as if they feared to be presumptuous in approaching too near.

Therefore, if Erconbury is the representative of the world to Lyke, you can imagine how far behind the world Lyke must be. Erconbury lies in a valley, chosen by St. Erkenwin and his monks a thousand years ago for its clear stream and its abundance of fish. Lyke lies almost out of sight of it, on the shoulder of one of the hills which rise from the valley, and looks towards the sea, some six miles off. The southern slope of the hill is rich with spreading beeches and limes, and the vegetation is luxuriant on the banks and hedges, which in their appointed season are yellow with primroses, purple with blue-bells, or crimson with foxgloves. It is a pleasant thing to sit in the hanging beech-woods on a summer afternoon, and to watch the light strike between their dark stems, and over the distance which melts away, range behind range of low golden hills, growing ever fainter and fainter, till the eye seems to lose them in an atmosphere of golden fire.

It is pleasant to walk through them in late autumn, when their leaves glow with scarlet and orange, and the brake fades from green into delicate fawn colour at their feet : when the distant hills and the clouds hanging above them are of the same tint of soft dove-coloured blue. It is pleasant to walk up through the dark, shady, overarched lanes, till you come to the village street, as it is called, although really Lyke village stands built round p green, on one side of which the road passes. The cottages are built of plaster, and their tiles, which are of that rich red brown which can only be attained by age, are diversified with many patches of lichen and house-leek. They are all over roses and honeysuckle in the summer, for the sheltered position and soil of Lyke are most favourable to roses.

There is a pond, with two or three fine elms, on the green, and on the opposite side from that on which the road runs stand the church and parsonage : the former small and neat, though not an architectural gem, as is plain by the one late Perpendicular and two flat-headed Tudor windows INTRODUCTORY. which face the green; the latter square-built, red, and uncompromising, but mercifully hiding its ugliness in a sea of greenery, out of which nothing but its top chimneys emerge. Out of the parsonage every day, as soon as the clock strikes three, issue the parson and the parson's wife arm in-arm. They are both between fifty and sixty, stout and hearty, and happy in each other's society — " whatever bliss is granted or withheld" in their case signifying the child lessness of their home. They go round to the< various cottages, greeting their inmates for the most part with an old-fashioned "Well, Betty, or well Ann, and how are you to-day ?

" Out of Mrs. Heydon's basket comes a covered pot with a piece of rice pudding for Httle Jenny, who is recovering from the measles, or a slice of meat for John Timms, who is recovering from that bad accident in the hay-field ; and Mr. Heydon pats the heads of the clean children and the pinafored shoulders of the dirty ones as they come up and grin in his face, showing their red lips and sparkling eyes to advantage. The old style of things still prevails here, and it is thought outrageous for any one to refuse a bow or a curtsey to the parson. Passing through the village, the road winds round the side of the hill, the beech-wood still spreading upwards to the left, the pastures sloping down to the right as you go on. After a while you come to a red-brick wall, mellowed into purple and orange by kindly old Time.

Green trees wave above it from within, and two stone balls surmount {he gateposts, where the old white gates, somewhat in need of fresh paint, open to disclose a dark grey house with a slated roof, and a green semicircle of turf in front of it. Everything is beautifully neat and trim, so much so, that you would at once suspect that the Panelled House belonged either to one old bachelor or to two old maids. And though, if your supposition was the latter one, you would not be wrong, you might still be puzzled by the b sound of young voices and croquet mallets from the lilac screened lawn. You might enter the house, and see a girl's garden hat hanging up in the entrance-hall, and an open story-book lying on the umbrella stand. You might hear quick steps hurrying up and down the stairs, and young girlish voices singing about the passages.

All this you might have seen and heard if you had entered the Panelled House ten years or so ago ; you would not see these things now. In place of them you would only see blankness and hear silence, and the wind that used to blow so merrily about the happy garden seems to come now with something like a dirge in its song. Memory has taken the place of hope, and life and death clasp hands in the story that she tells. Miss Hermione Eivers and Miss Imogen Eivers were the two maiden ladies who inhabited the Panelled House. They had been born there, and had lived there all their lives ; Lyke had been their world all their days, and they knew of very little beyond. Miss Rivers was a slight, refined woman, in delicate health, very gentle and soft spoken, thoughtful and silent, a woman of considerable cultivation of mind, according to the standard of her day, one whose favourite poet was Cowper, and who still be lieved in traditions of Mrs. Hannah More.

Miss Immy, the younger sister, was not intellectual ; she was active and bustling, short and plump, with a cheek like a winter apple, and two tight little rolls of grey curls. She spoke her mind freely to everybody except her sister Hermy, of whom she stood in more awe than any one who had observed the elder sister's gentleness and the younger one's decision of manner would have thought possible. It was only when you came to know them well that you perceived that Aunt Immy, blunt and decided as she was, was a very impulsive person, and that her impulses were not always overwise. H it had not been for the control which Hermione exercised over her she would probab'y INTRODUCTORY. 5 have been constantly in hot water, as she was apt to be whenever she chose to assert her right of private judgment in opposition to her elder sister.

She spent her days in gardening and in visiting the poor. These two ladies, however, had a further interest in life than often falls to the lot of elderly maidens : they had the charge of two orphan nieces and a little nephew, the children of their youngest sister, Cordelia, who had married Captain Wil liams, killed by a Sepoy bullet in the siege of Delhi. Nest, Winifred, and Evan Williams had arrived at the Panelled House at the respective ages of six, four, and three ; and they had come to look upon it as their home the more entirely that they could not remember any other. The Misses Pavers, considering that at that time they were middle-aged maiden ladies, settled into their own set ways, had borne the irruption of the three children with great equanimity. They were Cordelia's children, and Cordelia had been the youngest and the pet of the household.

So the best bedroom was turned into the nursery, and the white panels, which lined every room of the Panelled House instead of paper, were covered with pictures of elephants, lions, and faithful dogs saving drowning babies, for the instruction of the youthful mind. Neither Aunt Hermy nor Aunt Immy knew much about the manage ment of children, and they both began their task with peculiar and rather conflicting views. In theory, Aunt Hermy was for governing by persuasion, and Aunt Immy by force ; but practically it was found that Aunt Hermy strengthened her persuasions by commands, and Aunt Immy softened her commands by persuasions ; and the children, who were all sweet-tempered and docile, easily came to obey them both. After a time came the news that Cordelia Williams was dead. The children could not be expected to feel it very much, since they had known so little of their mother for the last few years ; but Nest cried until she was consoled by the glory of a new black frock with long sleeves.

It was rather sad to think that a mother's loss should be so little felt, but we cannot have everything in this life ; and poor Cordelia had had to make that terrible choice be tween husband and children, which falls to the lot of so many Indian mothers. Then, after a somewhat longer interval, came the news of the Indian Mutiny, when Her mione and Imogen could only be thankful that poor Cordelia was safe out of that danger and anxiety in her quiet grave, and was spared the crowning sorrow of widow hood, when Evan Williams fell in the siege of Delhi, and the children were left altogether in their aunts' charge. They were moderately well provided for, and the Misses Eivers, too, were comfortably off, so that there was no pinch of poverty caused by their stay at the Panelled House. The aunts determined to do everything that could be done for the children.

They engaged a good governess, who brought Nest well on with her learning, and did what could be done for stupid little Winny ; they sent Evan to a good school, and had the satisfaction of receiving good reports of his progress. They attended to the manners and behaviour of the children ; and the little Williamses were allowed by all their neighbours to be quiet, well-brought-up children, likely to do their aunts credit. And yet, notwithstanding all this, and without fault on any side, the fact remained — that aunthood could not make up for the want of motherhood, and that Nest and Winny did not run to their aunts, but to one another, for sympathy in their private troubles and pleasures. When this story begins, Nest Williams was just seventeen. Her governess had married the Christmas before, and her aunts did not think it worth while to begin again with another, so that it had been decided that she and Winny were to continue their studies with the help of Erconbury masters.

Nest was not a beauty, but she had INTRODUCTORY. a very sweet, intelligent face, which looked quite pretty at times. She had a short face, broad brow, clear dark eyes, and smooth, colourless skin, and the plaits of dark hair that were coiled at the back of her head shone like satin. She was very neat in her dress, slight and middle sized in figure, and quiet, if not graceful, in her movements. Winifred, or Winny as she was always called, was un deniably very pretty, although if you analysed every feature separately, they were none of them faultless, except perhaps her eyes. She was a tiny little creature under five feet high, and slender in proportion. She had a brown skin, with a bright colour in the cheeks, a short, merry httle face, with a wicked little nose, which some people called snub ; a determined chin, pretty pouting lips, of which the upper one was almost too short, and brown eyes, full of dance and sparkle, with thick dark lashes.

All this I can describe ; but I cannot describe the arch expression, the rippling soft laughter, and the gleeful voice, which were so characteristic of Winny. There seemed to be an exuberance of life about her. Whether she were at home or away from it, she became naturally the centre of attraction. It seemed to be a pleasure to every one to look at the happy little face, and to hear the merry voice, which always seemed to have a laugh in its tones, just as some voices are said to have tears in them. I must confess that the gay voice seldom gave utterance to speeches worth repeating. Winny had nothing intellectual about her, and her lessons had hitherto been the sorest burden of her life ; but yet she was very bewitching ; she was so full of exultant life that she threw her whole soul into everything that she did, and could no more help amusing people, and making herself agreeable, than a bird can help singing.

She knew she was pretty, and delighted in the fact in her childish way. She liked bright ribbons and flowers, and since the Misses Eivors did not approve of artificial flowers, Winny generally wore real ones. There were usually plenty to be found in the sheltered garden at the Panelled House ; and Winny knew what suited her, as most girls do who have the natural instinct of adornment. It was curious to see the contrast between the two sisters ; not only in dress, but in everything. Nest had no love of dress, and liked to be attired in Quaker-like greys and browns, choosing a new dress as like the old as pos sible. Winny would have liked to make herself as gay as a little humming-bird ; but as this would not have been allowed, she enlivened her sombre dresses with bright bows and knots of ribbon, such as would have charmed an artist's eye.

When they went together to see old women in the village, Nest did her duty decorously, asked after their rheumatism and the ailments of their grandchildren, and said everything that a kindly-disposed girl would say ; while Winny laughed and chattered about the flowers in the garden, or the china dogs on the mantel-piece, or something equally wise, and won all hearts by her happy nonsense. " Miss Nest's a kind young lady, and wonder ful sensible for her years," the village gossips used to say; "but Miss Winny, — bless her Httle heart !" and then they laughed. Every one laughed when they thought of Winny. So when the two sisters went to drink tea among the old ladies in St. Erkenwin's Almshouse in the cathedral town, — six elderly clergymen's daughters, who lived together, not always on the best of terms, — where Nest behaved properly and was bored, Winny contrived to amuse herself and everybody else.

Once she gave all the six a lesson in tatting, and, I am sorry to say, reproduced the scene in her own room to Nest afterwards, imitating the various voices so well, that Aunt Immy came in to see what stranger lady was in the girl's room. When she went to the Eectory, and Mr. and Mrs. INTRODUCTORY. 9 Heydon were deep in parish talk with Aunt Immy, the naughty child used to sit demurely by Mrs. Heydon's side, and whisper little comments on the circumstances men tioned, till the worthy lady was fain to explode in appa rently causeless laughter. "I can't help it; you know Aunt Hermy says there is always a fool in every tragedy," quoth the young lady on being reproved for her levity. Winny, of course, was very fond of Evan : much fonder, Mrs. Heydon thought, than she need have been. He was a quiet, sensible boy, extremely worthy, extremely steady, extremely uninteresting.

From being brought up entirely among women until he went to school, he had arrived at a truly boyish depreciation of them ; and all Winny's devotion to him in seeing after his poultry and in feeding his pet caterpiUars went for nothing with him, and was accepted as a matter of course. Since he is not a prominent character in this story, we need not dweU upon him much more minutely. Perhaps the disadvan tages of his orphaned home came more heavily upon him than upon the girls, and prevented him from becoming less self-satisfied and more humanised. Winny's chief devotion, however, was given to her sister Nest. She admired Nest with all her heart, and thought her the best and cleverest girl in the world. Nest was clever in her way ; but hers was a sort of slow cleverness that made no show. She had got on well with her books, because her governess had come to understand her, and had taken pains not to hurry her : her strength was in the accuracy of her reflective powers, not in quickness of memory, and at a competitive examination she would not have shone at all.

But she had a graceful fancy, and some power of composition ; and the little fairy tales she produced, which were read over first to Winny, and then communicated to Aunt Hermy, were looked upon by Winny as masterpieces, infinitely superior to Hans Andersen and Fouque. It was curious, however, to notice the difference between Nest's cleverness and Winny's ; for Winny was practicaUy, though not intellectually, clever. Nest was slow in weigh ing anything that was said to her, and in giving her opinion ; she had no power of repartee, and was quite ignorant of the science of light domestic chaff. Winny had an opinion on every subject, and an answer for every one ; it is true that the opinion was not always profound, nor the answer relevant ; but there was generaUy enough point in it for piquancy, and Winny's instinct often proved to be more correct than Nest's reasonableness.

These are the two sisters whose Hves are here chro nicled : simple country maidens, weU nurtured, weU cared for, weU sheltered from the world in their quiet home. How the lessons of life came to them, — how they rejoiced and how they suffered, — the sequel of this chronicle will show to those who care to follow it. among the beeches. Page 11. CHAPTEE II. IN THE BEECH-WOOD. " A rosebud set with little wilful thorns, And sweet as English air could make her, she." Tennyson. A summer afternoon, sunny and bright. Nest is sitting in the beech-wood trying to paint the lovely view, and signaUy failing. Aunt Hermy is beside her on a rug, with a book in her hand, which she is not reading. Winny is lying on the ground with her hat off, a jay's feather stuck into the scarlet ribbon that ties back her wavy dark hair, chattering to the other two while she plucks Httle bits of grass, and tries in vain to plait them, owing to their shortness.

They were now in the middle of a discussion, as it appeared. "I don't care," Winny was saying. "I don't beheve there is such another place as Lyke in the world, and I would not Hve anywhere else for a hundred pounds. If anybody were to ask me to marry him, I would not do it, unless he promised to live here always." " Winny, my dear," said Aunt Hermy, " you are getting too old to talk in that way now. I should not like any one to hear you speak so ; it sounds so unmaidenly." " Why, Aunt Hermy ? What is the harm ? " "I know you mean no harm, my dear," said Aunt Hermy, a little uneasily ; ' ' but marriage and such sub jects are so grave, that I think they should not be alluded to Hghtly. There is nothing that we should both of us more dislike than to hear you and Nest talking about gentlemen in the way that some girls do, and fancying things that have no foundation."

"I am sure I never did, Aunt Hermy," said Winny, with a little pout, while Nest blushed at the very idea. The spinster instinct for reticence upon matrimonial subjects prevented the perception of tbe more obvious peril , that a mother might have desired to guard against, — the peril lest reticence might be encouraged at the price of confidence. There was a little awkward pause, during which all three looked uncomfortable, and Aunt Hermy almost guilty. She was so kind-hearted that she did not like to find fault, even in as mild a manner as this. Winny was the first to recover her equanimity. " WeU, talking of Lyke, I am sure I would much rather Hve here than at Erconbury. I don't mean that I should mind going away for a visit ; but for anything else (I am not going to mention particulars this time, Aunt Hermy)," she added, with a roguish smile; "would you, Nest?"

" No," said Nest, at first ; then going on thinking aloud, as she sometimes did, "I don't know. I should Hke to see more of the world than one can see here, I think." " Fancy you of aU people wanting to spread your wings and fly away ! " said Aunt Hermy, a little sadly. "I don't exactly," said Nest. "But I think I want something more heroic than the people about here. It would be so nice to see some one really heroic ! Did you ever see a hero, Aunt Hermy ? " " My dear, I never even saw Garibaldi when your Aunt Immy did," said Miss Eivers, a Httle ruefully. "And Aunt Immy would not shake hands with him, because she disapproved of his revolutionary views ! " said Nest. " Trust Aunt Immy for being consistent," said Winny, mischievously. " WeU, Nest, I don't wonder much. I think compassion for him would have prevented me from IN THE BEECH-WOOD. boring him superfluously, except that I dare say he Hked it."

"But, Aunt Hermy, don't you wish you had seen a hero ?" proceeded Nest. " One reads people's names in a newspaper, but one never comes nearer them. I should like to know one weU." " Well, Nest," said Aunt Hermy, " I do know one man whom I think heroic ; but I don't think I ever saw his name in the newspaper." " I know a man whom I don't think heroic, whose name I have seen in the newspaper," said Winny, gravely. " Old Jeremy Nutt, who stole the barley, is in the Ercon bury paper this week." "Don't talk such nonsense, Winny," said Nest. "I want to hear what Aunt Hermy says." Winny subsided with a face of mock penitence. " I once knew somebody, Nest, when he was a lad, and long after I heard a very fine story about him," said Aunt Hermy. " His name was Hugh Armyn — Colonel Armyn he is now — he was a friend of your dear father's. I used to think that if he had been a little older he would have done to marry your mother ; but he was about seventeen when she was twenty-three, so that, of course, it was out of the question.

Only Cordelia was so pretty, and I am sure he admired her, though it might have been in a boyish way." "WeU?" said Winny, eagerly. " This story has nothing to do with her. Your father came in the way and married your mother, and Hugh Armyn went off as a cadet to India, and married out there — not very satisfactorily, I am afraid. But I heard a story about him in the Indian Mutiny, which made me proud to think that I had known him. Major Tate told me of it as a proof of his eccentricity, once when I was talking about Hugh Armyn to him. ' Such a Quixotic feUow,' he said, 'I never came across. To give you an instance : he very nearly sacrificed his life in the Indian Mutiny. He and another officer feU into the hands of some natives, who were willing to try to save them, if they would pass themselves off as Mohammedans and repeat the Mohammedan Creed.

Will you beheve it ? Hugh Armyn flatly refused. Just as if it mattered what one said to those niggers,' remarked Major Tate. The other officer, Major Tate said, did everything he could to per suade him, but it was of no use. First he declared, ' I am not going to give up my opinions to please any one ; ' and when the other man tried to persuade him that there was no giving up of opinions in the case, and that he was no more degraded by it than he would be by putting on a turban, he said, ' WeU, then, I am not ashamed of my Christianity.' And so the other officer left him, as it seemed, to certain death ; but, to every one's surprise, Hugh turned up some weeks after, safe and sound. Major Tate was once raUying him about it, he told me, and said he was sure he could not have got out of it without turning Mohammedan after all ; and Hugh Armyn got quite angry, and said at last, ' You might just as weU say I turned Sepoy at once.

I assure you I would quite as soon break my faith in that way as in the other.' So there was nothing more to be said. But I was proud, Nest, to think that I had known Hugh Armyn." " I should think so ! " said Nest, with glistening eyes. " I like that," said Winny at the same moment. " But, Aunt Hermy, what did you say about his marriage not being satisfactory ? Was not his wife a nice person ?" asked Nest. Aunt Hermy was proceeding to answer, when a smaU, short, quickstepping figure, basket in one hand and um breUa in the other, appeared in the shaded path among the beech-stems. Aunt Immy wore a large round hat, so utterly unfashionable that no one could accuse her of IN THE BEECH-WOOD. 15 attempting to look youthful; a short dress, before the happy days of short dresses had come in, and a pair of spectacles.

She was a quaint figure enough, but the quaintness was too familiar to her sister and her nieces to strike them, and she trotted up to them and sat down. "Winny, my dear, why don't you try to draw, as Nest is doing ? It would be much better than wasting your time doing nothing." "Aunt Immy, I am trying to be like the girl in those verses that Aunt Hermy made me learn last week," said Winny, demurely. " ' Hers the silence and the calm of mute insensate things,' you know." And Winny laid back her head upon the short grass and closed her eyes. " Silence and calm, indeed ! I should Hke to see you silent for five minutes, or calm either," said Aunt Immy; while Nest laughed heartily. "Besides, Aunt Immy, I am not wasting my time. Aunt Hermy is improving our minds with moral anec dotes," said Winny, sleepily.