Clarissa's Tangled Web

Front matter

BY BEATRICE BRISTOWE, .Author of1' Unforgottbn," " Wiwlaimy Hill," &c, &c. ILonticm : JAMES CLAKE.E & CO., 13 & 14, FLEET STEEET. 1885. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. On the Heights 1 II. Clarissa's Early Days ... ... ... ■•• 9 III. Clarissa's Married Life 15 IV. Near the River 26 V. A Meeting 36 VI. Clarissa's Promise ... 48 VII. Clarissa's Letter 61 VIII. Irene at School 77 IX. Delays -, 92 1« X. An Hour of Terror 101 XL Saved! Ill XII. A Tangle ' 123 XIII. A Visit after All 137 XIV. A Brotherly Covenant 147 XV. A Tear and Eight Months Later, and how it had fared with Clarissa ... ... ... 160 XVI. And How with Irene ? 172 XVII. A Retreat 186 XVIII. Lost 200 XIX. Baffled Seeking 210 XX. Found VI CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XXI. A Problem Solved 230 XXII. A Tongue Devising Mischief 242 XXIII. "The Sword Reacheth unto the Soul !" ... 256 XXIV.

Suspense 270 XXV. A Wounded Spirit 283 XXVI. A Just Man ! 299 XXVII. Balm in Gilead 310 XXVIII. A Peaceable Habitation 326 XXIX. The Young Artist 342 XXX. Nearer and Dearer 352 XXXI. A Dream Dispelled 364 XXXII. Nigh unto Death 378 XXXIII. Not " Nunc Dimittis " 390 XXXIV. Disentangled at Last 406 XXXV. Christmas and Midsummer 422 XXXVI. Conclusion

Chapter I. On The Heights

On a brilliant afternoon of a sunshiny July, a lady sat alone writing a letter. The room in which she sat could scarcely fail of pleasantness, for the enlivening sunlight came in freely through the unclosed French window opening on to a verandah, made gay by flowering plants in pots, and by Virginian creeper and nasturtium cover ing the ironwork. But otherwise the chamber had somewhat of that uncomfortable admixture of formality and pretentiousness characteristic of " genteel apartments," let by the week, in places of health resort. The lady's writing-case lay on a gorgeous table cover, and an imposing-looking inkstand held the thick and scanty ink which she was using. The thickness of the ink had not prevented the writing of a somewhat long letter; for three closely-filled sheets of note-paper lay on the table, and the last side of a fourth was rapidly filling.

Then came a few lines of crossed writing, the name was signed, a postscript added ; and the epistle, which ran as follows, was concluded. " Vemon Villa, Clifhampton, Westhaven, "July 28th, 18—. "My dear Sarah, — Elizabeth doubtless re ceived my brief note, telling you of our safe arrival, and that I had obtained fairly comfort able apartments. "I suppose you have both been waiting for a longer letter from me before yourselves writing ; and, indeed, I then purposed writing again very soon. But my time is occupied more than you would think. The children seem to need enter taining and constant attention, even more than when at home, because there is less to amuse them, and they are not content to be out on the Downs any time together without me, though Susan is, as you know, very kind and wholly to be trusted.

They are now with her sitting under the trees : I coaxed them to go without me, pro mising a donkey-ride in the cool of the evening. " I have no doubt that you, too, have heard from Edward. It was a dreadful disappointment to me to find that he will most likely be away so much longer than he expected. I was looking forward to having him again with us very soon after our return home, and now it may not be for weeks. I used to think that I might, perhaps, get a little accustomed to these absences, and mind them less ; but, instead of that, it seems to me I feel them more and more. It is all very well for you to say that it must be a pleasant change sometimes ; — how could you say such a thing? Whatever uneasiness the little pecu liarities of dear Edward's temper may cause now and then is nothing to the trouble of not having On the Heights. 3 him with me, and not knowing sometimes whether what I do and determine on will please him or not.

You unmarried women know nothing at all about it ! Well, I must try to bear it as well as I can — it is no use to fret ; and the joy of meeting will, perhaps, be the greater when it comes ; only, the longer he is away the greater the chances of something or other not going quite right. " I am really quite undecided whether to remain here the whole of the month I purpose being away, or whether to spend a fortnight at Easton-on-the-Sea. Alice wants to stay ; she delights in the open downs, and the seats under the trees, and the band in the evenings playing on the promenade, and the grand shops in Queen Street ; and she has made great friends with two nice little girls, whose mamma, an invalid, is lodging next door for the whole summer. But Bertie wants to go to Easton ; he likes digging in the sand and wading into the water, and sail ing his boat in the pools among the rocks, and walking on the pier and seeing the steamer come in.

So I really do not know what to do. You say that I think too much about pleasing the children ; well, when one wants one thing, and another another, it is awkward. "Last Monday I saw in the paper that there had been two cases of small-pox in Redworth. Redworth is a populous suburb of Westhaven, quite on the other side the city, and the river lies between. Still, seeing this almost determined me to go on to Easton, till a lady who occupies the dining-room here, and who has a sister residing in Easton, told me — it has been kept quiet for the good of the place — there has been lately a case of typhoid fever on the Beach. I wish Edward were here to decide. Well, I need not make up my mind to-day ; I engaged the apartments for a fortnight only, but I told Mrs. Smith that I might possibly remain longer.

She says she hopes I shall remain ; we give so little trouble, and the dear children are so well-behaved. And so they are ; no children could be better. For myself, I should like to stay. On the whole, we are comfortably suited as to lodgings, and the air of the Downs is so invigorating, and the scenery so very fine. " And, indeed, it has been very interesting to me to visit Westhaven again after so many years. The suburbs have extended wonderfully ! In the city some alterations have been begun, and if all that is talked of is carried out, should I come again ten years hence the familiar ways will be familiar no longer. But, as yet, within the city itself, everything is very nearly as it used to be, and, as I walk through the narrow streets, and look up at the clustering church towers, I think I am a girl again.

And, then, to look down, and see the children, and think of Edward, and of you all, and of that life which is so real, so all important now, and was undreamed of then, — it seems so strange ! Pleasant West Leighton is associated with all childish memories. lungs port is the home of my real life — my full life as a woman, a wife, and a mother ; but Westhaven was the home of girlhood, when I stood, as that pretty poem by Longfellow says, — Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet. Gazing with a timid glance, On the brooklet's swift advance, On the river's broad expanse.' I was a romantic maiden in those days, full On the Heights. 5 of hopes and fancies and foolish dreams. Well, Edward is not exactly the ideal of that girl's idle dreaming, but he is the husband of the woman's true, deep love.

How I do wish he were coming home sooner ! " I went to look at the old house in Hanover Square, and it made me think so much of poor, dear papa. The house looked very natural, and the entire square ; yet there was an undefinable difference. I could see that the tide of respectability had moved on a little, and that the square was inhabited by a somewhat different class from formerly. But Mrs. Walton remains in the same house, and she is as good as ever, and was so glad to see me, and so pleased with the children, — and she saw at once the likeness in Bertie to his grandpapa, which hardly any one but myself seems to see. Of course I knew all the turns of expression in dear papa's face, and so can catch the likeness better than other people. Mrs. Walton told me about a number of friends I was glad to hear of; but, you see, we lived in Westhaven only fifteen months, and we did not make many friendships, and, somehow or other, we dropped corresponding with the two or three who did write at first, — even with dear Mrs. Walton ; but I hope, now, the renewed inter course will be continued.

It is partly that I may see more of her that I should like to remain at Clifhampton ; still, if Alice wished for Easton, as well as Bertie, I should decide on going there. " Xow I really think that I must stop. I wrote part of this last night after the children were in bed, and it is now nearly time for the afternooD post. Edward laughs at the length of my letters which he sees me writing, but I dare say he is glad enough to get a long epistle when he is away. I wish his letters were nearly as long ; but then, as he says, men do not know how to spin much out of nothing, as women do. " Write soon with all news of yourselves and of friends generally. Please direct here, unless you hear from me ; if I decide on Easton, after all, I will let you know. " Best love to you and to Elizabeth, and to all friends who ask for me. — I am, dear Sarah, your affectionate sister, « Clarissa Weatherill.

" P.S. — Alice and Bertie send their love, and Alice wants to know whether her canary is happy without her, and how Tibby gets on." Then the sheets were hastily folded and placed in an envelope, and Mrs. Weatherill, equipping herself with hat, gloves, and parasol, lying in readiness on the sofa, tripped lightly down the stairs, opened the glass door of the little vestibule, passed out into the warm yet breezy afternoon, and deposited her letter in the pillar-post on the Down Parade just three minutes before the time of clearing. Walking more leisurely, she stepped on to the short, soft turf of the Down, and took her way towards the shaded seats where she knew her children would be. Soon she found them, and they bounded forward to meet her, and begged her to come and stay a little while with them under the trees ; and she sat with them awhile, and let Bertie have her parasol to use as a hobby horse, and listened to Alice's glowing descrip tion of a wonderful wax doll she had seen in the hands of a little girl, and of its superb attire, yet how she loved her own old doll better than she should love one like that, because "it was her own."

When presently she proposed On the Heights. 7 returning to the house, the children would have begged to stay yet a little longer but for a re minder of the donkey-riding in the evening, and a whisper from Susan of something very nice at tea. So each child took a hand of their mamma's, leaping and springing as they went — a mode of progression easier for them than for her. But she did not mind ; it was pleasant to clasp their little fingers, and to feel as well as see their young joyfulness. When Vernon Villa was reached, the children ran eagerly upstairs, and there the snowy cloth was laid, and everything in readiness for the cheerful afternoon meal. " Strawberries ! strawberries ! oh, strawberries ! " exclaimed Bertie, who first reached the drawing-room, and saw in the centre of the table a basket lined with fresh green leaves, and heaped high with ripe, red fruit.

Alice smiled brightly at the pleasant sight, and when their mother was seated, and the tea poured out, and Alice had been told to " say grace," and had folded her hands and repeated the accustomed words with more deliberation than Bertie considered at all necessary, the meal began, and fruit and bread-and-butter were discussed with the keen enjoyment of childish appetite, quickened by a pure and bracing air. After tea came the donkey-ride. Over the Downs the children went — Bertie, anxious to show the mettle of his gallant steed, brandishing, though, by his mother's order, not using, his little whip, and urging to trot and canter ; Alice caressing gently the long grey ears of the patient animal she rode, and quite content with its slow pacing. So they crossed the Downs until they reached a low wall, and there they halted, looking on the river below, winding onwards until it fell into the sea, or rather into a wide estuary.

Gloriously the evening sunshine lighted up the river, the varied banks, the glittering stretch of water beyond, a wooded promontory where white houses gleamed among the trees, the ships lying out in the roadstead, the high enfolding hills on the opposite coast. Up the river was coming a stately ship, towed by a brisk little steam-tug, which Bertie said looked no bigger than the packets in the toyshop windows ; and the children laughed to see how little the people, the horses, and the carriages looked, moving slowly down below along the road beside the river. Alice would have liked to have stayed a long time, but Bertie became impatient for the ride back again, and their mother thought how the hour of bedtime would be past ere they reached home. So they turned, and the light grew more golden, more perfect in beauty on the heathery turf and the many trees, and on the round observatory tower, on the cliffs, and on the woods ; and miles away beyond the river valley, on a wide hill range, mapped out in fertile fields, and on the dim, shadowy blue line of yet more distant and higher hills.

Nor was the sunset glory faded from the sky as the little children knelt beside their mother's knee, saying their evening prayers, and laid their heads on the soft pillows, and quickly sank into the untroubled sleep of healthy, happy childhood. And the mother, passing from one little bed to the other, looking on the sweet, still faces, thought that surely no mother, the wide world over, could be blessed with children dearer, better, lovelier, than was she. Thus passed with Clarissa that July evening, on Clifhampton heights.

Chapter II

Clarissa's early days. Clarissa Weatherill first saw the light in Birmingham, and there the two first years of her life were passed. Then her family removed to West Leighton, in the sunny South-west ; and so great was the contrast between the dim, smoky atmosphere, the discordant noises, the gloomy monotony of a central situation in that great manufacturing city, and the clear blue sky and bright shining of the sun, the clean white streets, gay gardens and surrounding fields, the unsullied stream, the soft quietness, and the pleasant sounds of Leighton, that Clarissa, through all after life, maintained that, babe as she was, she had a distinct recollec tion of this removal — not of the removal itself but of the change, as of a kind of new birth into a brighter world. The family of the Mortons (Morton was Mrs. Weatherill's maiden name) had been settled in West Leighton scarcely three years when Mrs. Morton died.

Clarissa wondered in after years, and almost with a feeling of self-reproach, that such an event as the death of a mother should have made no very powerful impression on her feelings or on her memory. Her chief recollec tion was of a time when the sunlight was shut out of the house by closely drawn blinds, and of a day when she and her still younger sister Bessie were dressed in new clothes, all black, and sent very early in the morning to the house of a friend, and how the next day all the blinds were drawn up again, and they were not any longer told to play quietly. But Mrs. Morton had been for some years a great invalid, and the care of the children had devolved almost entirely on the nurse and on their much older sister, Mary ; they had, in fact, seen very little of their mother, so that their manner of life was not greatly altered nor their happiness deeply affected by her removal.

Bright and pleasant was Clarissa's childhood spent in West Leighton. She, with her sister Bessie, attended a day school, where the studies were by no means severe, and where they enjoyed merry games in the spacious playground, and found pleasant companions with whom to play in the fields in summer, and to meet in Christmas parties in the winter time. It was her first real sorrow when, just as she had passed her four teenth birthday, their father left Leighton for a small dull town many miles distant, and which afforded the pleasures neither of country nor of city life. But their residence in Northallerton was not of very long continuance, and the next removal was to the city of Westhaven. Mr. Morton was a gentleman of probity, in dustry, and general intelligence ; but being sanguine, easily imposed upon, and incautious, he was not a successful man of business, and his undertaking in Northallerton had proved so far a failure that, though the dishonour of insolvency was escaped, he left the town a considerably poorer man than he had been on his arrival.

It was, therefore, a satisfaction to many of Mr. Morton's friends that at Westhaven he would not encounter the risks of business on his own Clarissa's Early Days. 11 account, but was to hold an important and not unlucrative position as superintendent of a large factory there. Clarissa rejoiced in the removal from Northal lerton. She was at once attracted by the pictur esqueness of the fine old city in which she had come to dwell, and by the varied beauty of the surrounding scenery, and, somewhat over seven teen, she was in the sweet prime of girlhood, when all things are seen under the glamour of romantic feeling, of anticipations vague yet bright. The friendships formed in their new home were not many, nor were any lasting, save that with Mrs. Walton, a near neighbour in the quiet square where the Mortons resided.

This friendship was the most intimate, and was destined to be renewed in after years. But when only a few months had been passed in Westhaven there came into Clarissa's life a new experience ; she knew for the first time what it was to be loved and wooed, and by one pos sessing many qualities likely to captivate a young girl's fancy. Her father, however, wholly disap proved, and forbade, not only any engagement, but any further intercourse whatever ; nor did her sister Mary differ in opinion from their father. Clarissa was a dutiful child, and, though not without severe pain, she yielded instant, implicit obedience. Indeed, her own judgment told her that her father's objections were not wholly groundless ; and while her imagination and feel ings were strongly fascinated, her deepest affections had not, perhaps, been really engaged.

So that when her lover left the city, and she saw him and heard of him no more, although his image did not pass from her memory, her tranquillity ere long returned, and all was remembered rather as a brief, bright dream, suddenly dispelled, than as a lastingly heart-breaking reality. Fifteen months had sped rapidly away in Westhaven, when Mr. Morton suddenly an nounced that he had entered into partnership with a gentleman carrying on business in Kings port ; and with a rapidity rather discomforting to his family, he underlet the house they occu pied, relinquished to a successor his good situa tion, and effected the removal to Kingsport. To Clarissa this change of residence was at first scarcely less grievous than once had been that from West Leighton ; but Kingsport was found a much more agreeable place than Northallerton had proved, and she was soon not unreconciled.

Kingsport was a place of important mercantile activity, but the docks, warehouses, and the sea faring population congregated at one extremity of the town, and many streets, broad and long, where were fine shops and public buildings and busy traffic, lay between that dingy quarter and Snow Hill, the best end of the town, which looked, in its old-world quiet, quite unaware of stress and toil and anxious venture. Snow Hill went up and up, a gently winding ascent, houses on each side of the broad way, until at last the summit was reached ; and there on the right was a venerable church, surrounded by a churchyard, green and beautiful with many trees, and on the left a large building, standing in wide and pleasant grounds, which was the union work house, but so sightly and cheerful in aspect that it suggested far happier associations.

There was singular variety in the houses on the long ascent of Snow Hill. Some few fell back in trim gar dens, the greater number faced the smooth, wide Clarissa's Early Days. 13 pavement, only area railings intervening. Here were dwellings that seemed to speak of moderate competence possessed by their occupants ; there residences, large and stately, telling of wealth ; and close by, unabashed, abodes small and poor. But nowhere was seen the vulgarity of newness ; in every house " men had lived and died." And the poorest had the greatest dignity of age ; in these arched doorway and latticed window told of past generations — of the former days, which, if not better, were assuredly more picturesque than these. It was not in any house of the main ascent of Snow Hill that the Mortons found a resting-place on their removal from Westhaven, but in Cran brook Terrace, a row of new residences built on the East Road, the only opening which, on the left-hand side, broke the long continuity of build ings from the commencement of Snow Hill to its summit.

Miss Morton regarded with envy the substantial building and commodiousness of the older houses, and did not find much compensation in the modern elegances of marble mantel-pieces, plaster cornices, and gilt-touched satin wall-paper. She especially complained that the comfort and convenience of the house generally had been ruthlessly sacrificed to secure increased size and better appearance to the drawing-room ; and she also considered that the unwisdom of the builder was being imitated by the new occupiers, and that the inevitable expenses of the removal were being needlessly added to by an unduly lavish expenditure on this particular room. But Clarissa and Bessie were well pleased with the house, and were unanimous in contending that such and such articles of furniture or of adornment were really necessary, and must be bought ; and Mr. Morton, who was sanguine of large success in his new undertaking, was not unwilling, in this matter, to gratify his younger daughters.

And before very long the prettily-furnished drawing-room was in frequent requisition. Mr. Morton's partner had introduced the girls to several Kingsport families, by whom they were cordially received ; and there were occasional parties in the winter, and much coming and going of young friends all the year round. Bessie was universally allowed to be a beautiful girl ; and though Clarissa was never called "beautiful," some said that she was very pretty ; and her gentleness, ready sympathy, and eager desire to give pleasure made her in very general estimation at least as attractive as her sister. Before Bessie was quite twenty years of age she was married to a gentleman in very good position, met whilst she was on a visit to friends in London. The pleasure which might otherwise have been felt by her father and sisters in this social advancement was neutralised by the prospect of far distant separation, her husband having been appointed to an important post in the Indian Civil Service.

Happily, they did not realise how entire the separation would be ; how new relationships, a total change in surroundings and habits, and an ever widening difference in social rank, would, yet more than mere distance, form a barrier between the East Indian lady and the relatives, friends, and old associations of her younger days. This was hidden from them ; yet it was with many tears they parted from the beautiful bride, and Clarissa wondered how life was to go on for her at all without her sister Bessie.

Chapter III. Clarissa's Married Life

Three years after Bessie's departure from Eng land Clarissa was married to Edward Weatherill, junior partner in the firm of " Locke and Weatherill, corn factors, Kingsport ; " and in (me of the old-fashioned houses near the summit of Snow Hill the new home was established ; and Mr. Morton and Mary were left alone in Cranbrook Terrace. It was said by many — both by men and women — that Clarissa Morton, in marrying Edward Weatherill, showed no mean amount of courage ; yet, truth to tell, more than one lady would have proved herself equally courageous had the same opportunity been afforded her. Very differing estimates of Edward Weatherill would have been expressed by his fellow-towns men ; but friend and enemy would alike have acknowledged that he was not a commonplace man — was unmistakably marked by strong indi viduality.

His physique was peculiar. He was below the average size, spare and small, yet well proportioned and firmly knit. His complexion was fair, as was his smooth, straight hair ; his clear cut features were small and delicate as a woman's, but the compression of the thin lips spoke unconquerable determination ; and the steady gaze of the light, grey eyes seem to betoken a perpetual weighing in the balance of each person and thing, and with the general result of finding it "wanting." He was not a man of narrow views and aims. He attended to his own business concerns with energy and dispatch, but it was on questions of public con cernment he bestowed his most eager thought and endeavour. A keen politician on the Liberal side ; an even intemperate advocate of the Tem perance cause ; earnest for all social reforms ; interested in all philanthropic enterprises, with a clear mental vision, a firm grasp on ideas, and a manner of speech direct, incisive, well-nigh perfect in the precision with which words were chosen, and the quiet emphasis with which they were spoken, Edward Weatherill, although at the time of his marriage little past thirty, had been for years recognised in Kingsport as in some sort a public man, a leader of thought and action ; and his influence would have been very powerful had it not been lessened by an impracticable temper — captious, self-willed, resentful of any personal disrespect, real or supposed.

At public meeting, council board, and committee, his presence was desired as an accession of strength, his clear voice and convincing speech always commanding attention, his advocacy of a cause being generally potent; yet dreaded, as a too probable occasion of weakness, through divided councils and awakened ill-feeling. It was strange to what degree this irate temper would sometimes becloud WeatheriU's usual clear-sightedness, and prevent his right apprehension of facts ; while it never for a moment disturbed his self-possession. If in a dispute which he had originated faces became flushed, voices raised, and there was con fusion and clamour, he sat, pale and cold, with folded arms, waiting for silence, and then there came, in few apt words, some biting sarcasm, unkind truth, or fact shown through distorting medium, but ever spoken in unraised, measured tones.

Among those who shared Weatherill's political and social views, and were thus brought into fre quent association with him, were not a few he had utterly offended, and who viewed him with settled dislike ; others there were who, fascinated, followed his lead through right and through wrong ; but the most regarded him with a per plexed admixture of admiration, liking, and vexed annoyance, and quoted one to another a very old proverb concerning " dead flies," and the apothecary's precious " ointment ! " It was not in the ordinary intercourse of social life, but as fellowworkers in charitable endeavour, that Edward Weatherill and Clarissa Morton first became acquainted. The closing of some ex tensive works through the failure of the firm, paralysing local industry in many directions, and throwing a large number of men out of employment in the midst of a winter of exceptional severity, had caused such distress in Kingsport that a Relief Fund had been opened . by the Mayor, and a committee of gentlemen formed for its management.

Of this committee Weatherill was a prominent member, and Clarissa, who sought in many kindly activities some relief from the sense of vacancy Bessie's absence caused in her life, was one of many ladies who assisted in the distribution of the fund by weekly visitations from house to house. Stringent rules as to the amount and manner of bestowment were imposed on these distribu tors ; but Clarissa had been tempted in one case, which seemed to her of special hardness, to in fringe these regulations ; and, in giving in her report, she had to confess the irregularity. It so happened that Weatherill was the member of the Committee receiving the reports ; to him she timidly made her confession, which was met by a sharp rebuke, and a brief but strong enforce ment of the duty of acting within prescription.