Basil Lyndhurst ... New edition

Front matter

BASIL LYNDHURST BASIL LYNDHUKST BY EOSA NOUCHETTE CAREY author OF 'Nellie's memories,' 'not like other girls,' 'ONLY THE GOVERNESS,' ETC. A NEW EDITION LONDON RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, NEAV BURLINGTON STREET in ©.-inarg to 3_..r fRajcstg tfj. ©um. CONTENTS OLGA'S STORY CHAP. PA0E 1. The Proem ....... 1 2. The Ladies at the Hall . . . .10 3. Aunt Catherine ...... 20 4. An Evening at Fircroft . . . . .29 5. ' Shall You let me go, Mother ? ' . . . .39 6. 'The Lady's Walk' ...... 49 7. Unlocking Pandora's Box . . . . .58 8. Virginia's Story . ... . . .68 9. 'He was so Pretty', Olga ! ' ... . . 78 10. A Fairy Godmother and a Prt.nciJ' ..'. . . S7 11. La Maisonnette . . . . .96 12. A Middle-aged Romance ..... 105 13. The Pavilion in the Garden .... 114 14. A Butterfly-Hunt ...... 123 15. A Friend in Need ...... 133 16.

The Little House on the Cliff .... 144 MISS SEFTON'S STORY 17. Catherine Sefton's Retrospect .... 157 18. A Strange Night . . . . . .167 19. 'He is Everything to me ' . . . . 177 20. Looking at the Sunset .... BASIL LYNDHURST VI CHAP. PA0E 21. La Rue d'Eglise . . . . . ■ 197 22. ' The Eric of Hades ' . . . . .208 23. The End of a Summer Idyll .... 218 24. Aline 228 25. ' You are Basil Lyndhurst ! ' . . . • 24° 26. Lizette Dupont ...... 250 27. Good-bye to La Maisonnette .... 261 28. 'Auld Lang Syne' ..... -271 29. 'Welcome Home, my Dear' ..... 281 30. 'Friends for Life' ...... 291 31. ' They asked for the Squire ' . . . ■ 302 32. 'So you have come back!' . . . . .312 OLGA RESUMES HER STORY 33. Jem gives his Opinion ..... 325 34. ' I don't look like a Squire's Lady ' . . . 335 35. The Lady Gwendoline's Room .... 346 36.

Ladybird plays Pranks ..... 357 37. The Dinner-party at the Hall .... 367 38. ' If I WERE ONLY' like you ! ' . . . 377 39. ' You must take care of me, George ! ' . . . 388 40. ' Troubles seldom come singly' ' . . . 398 41. ' Be good to Hubert ' ..... 409 42. Cook spoils the Fish ...... 420 43. An Aftermath ....... 432 44. The New Vicar . . . . . .442 45. A Violet in September ..... 453 46. A New Year's Gift ... . 464 47. ' Is there Anything you have to tell me ? ' . 473 48. The Way opens . . . . . .482 OLGA'S STORY I

Chapter I The Proem

' A man only understands that of which he has already the beginnings in himself. ' — Amiel's Journal. I suppose if one were to look back over one's past life, that special days and hours would glide out of the darkness and stand out with almost mirage-like brightness against the dusky back ground, where all manner of confused childish fancies are hopelessly mingled together ; that in our sober-eyed maturity we should be at times startled by the ghost of our child-life looking at us across the years with a tender pathos and pity that would appeal strongly to our inner consciousness. There is something touching, even to a commonplace mind, in the memory of one's childhood. Once upon a time we lived upon enchanted ground ; we skimmed across our own little plot of earth with irresponsible, bird-like motion ; we were as giddy as insects in the sunshine ; our world was peopled with fairies ; all sorts of delightful miracles took place before our eyes.

True, the grown-up people were a little tiresome — they invented strange laws : to go to bed when one was not sleepy, for example — but perhaps it was their nature to be tiresome. How well I remember a little scene painted on my memory in indelible colours ! I can see it all so vividly — the brown wain scotted parlour, bright with firelight ; outside, the snow falling, a noiseless white shower. The rest of the family had gone to church, grumbling and protesting against the weather, and we two children had been left to amuse each other, Jem proud of being left in charge of his little sister. We were sitting huddled up together on the low window-seat, with Fox's Booh of Martyrs between us, and Jem was gloating over the horribly realistic pictures with the relish of boyish curiosity. 'Jem,' I exclaimed suddenly, ' when I grow up I mean to be a martyr ! ' ' Don't be a goose, Olga !

Look at this fellow on the rack ; he must be a plucky one, I should say.' ' Don't show me any more pictures, please,' I pleaded ; ' they make me feel bad. I am thinking of that poor lady at the stake, and how brave she was. Mother says it is a grand thing to die for one's religion ; I heard her say so to Hubert. When I am quite grown up and as tall as mother I mean to be a martyr.' ' Oh, you silly ! ' and here Jem looked at me with lofty con tempt. ' As though people were burnt now ! ' ' No, not here — not in England ; but among the savages, Jem.' ' Oh, oh ! it is a female missionary you would be ! What a baby you are, Olga ! Why, you cannot bear the least little bit of pain ! You cried wheu your finger was pinched in the door the other day. Hallo ! what are you about V in an astonished voice. 1 Oh, you ninny ! ' But here Jem broke off to watch my proceedings with breath less interest.

Stung by his boyish derision, and elevated by my vague longing for martyrdom, I walked up to the grate and thrust a small finger into the ruddy flame. Shall I ever forget the fierce smart, the hot, throbbing anguish of the next moment 1 ' Oh, Jem, it hurts ! oh, I can't bear it ! ' and, throwing myself on the rug, I burst into heartbroken sobs. It was long before Jem could comfort me ; the smart of my scorched fiDger had entered my childish soul. I had no longer any hope of belonging to the company of celestial maidens who had won their crowns. The desire was there, but the pain was too terrible ; and there was Jem wipiug away my tears, and every now and then breaking into a shout of boyish laughter. ' What a queer little thing you are, Olga ! I don't believe another child would have done it.' ' Don't tell Hubert,' I whispered, for Jem was cuddling me so nicely that I was in a fair way to be comforted.

I did not mind Jem laughing one bit while his eyes looked so kind ; but if Hubert should hear it ! Why did we always say that . and yet there were but three of us — Hubert and Jem and I ! I wonder if the grown-up Olga is so much wiser than the child Olga, who scorched her chubby finger in the desire to prove herself strong enough for martyrdom. Sometimes even now I have had wild dreams of self-sacrifice, and then have shrunk back at the mere thought of testing them. ' Oh, Jem, it hurts ; I cannot bear it ! ' I seem to hear the old childish note of pain ringing in my ears now. 'Olga, you are a dreamer of dreams,'- Hubert has said to me more than once, and has quoted Kingsley's beautiful words, 'Do noble things, not dream them all day long.' Indeed, he recited the whole poem one day to Kitty and me.

Kitty sighed and said it was very true, but I held my peace ; I loved that little poem so. Jem and I knew it by heart ; and Hubert had spoiled it by repeating it in that measured voice. I never liked Hubert to read poetry to me. Jem often told me that I was unjust to Hubert ; that I did not make allowances for a slow, quiet nature. I daresay he was right ; but though I was fond of Hubert as an elder brother, and tried to do my duty to him, and to bear with Kitty for his sake, I could not love him as I did Jem. Hubert was a great deal older than either of us ; he was a full grown man when Jem was a raw schoolboy. Several brothers and sisters had come between us and had died in infancy. On his deathbed my father had made Hubert our guardian ; and when my mother died, and Hubert married Kitty, he brought us to his house.

I remembered how Jem and I begged to be allowed to live together, and how Hubert pooh-poohed the notion in that grand way of his. ' Who ever heard of a couple of children keeping house together ! Please don't cry about it, Olga. Kitty and I hope to make you very comfortable ; and there is the baby to amuse you when Jem goes to Oxford.' I am sure now that Hubert meant to be kind, and that in his heart he was very sorry for us. Neither then nor afterwards did he complain of his added responsibilities ; he made every possible arrangement for our comfort, and I am bound to say that Kitty seconded him. They both welcomed us in the kindest manner, and took pains to show us that we were not in the way ; indeed, Kitty tried very hard to be a sister to me. Six years had passed since Jem and I said good-bye to our dear old home and went to live at Fircroft.

Things had changed much since then. Kitty had ceased to be the Kitty of old ; the dark eyed, high-spirited girl who had welcomed us with girlish good nature had developed into a pale, fretful Kitty, who had lost all her kittenish roundness, and the bright winning ways that had first won Hubert's heart. Perhaps the cares of motherhood oppressed her, or the children came too fast for her strength, or the monotonous routine of domestic life hardly suited her pleasure-loving nature; but as the years went on Kitty grew careworn and peevish. Her very love for her husband and children developed into fretful anxiety for their well-being. She toiled early and late in their service, with no thought for her own comfort, taking all her husband's kindly attentions with a martyr like meekness which at once puzzled and distressed him.

Ever since his marriage Hubert had added private tuition to his curate's work. He had three or four pupils living with him — young men who were backward, or in delicate health, or who wanted the services of a private tutor. Jem stepped into one of these vacancies, and worked under Hubert until he went up to Oxford. We were not utterly dependent on Hubert, which made things easier for us ; but, with a generosity for which we would not have given him credit, Hubert only repaid himself for our bare maintenance, and so made it possible for Jem to realise his ambition of going to Oxford. The Rector of Brookfield was in bad health, and compelled to five abroad for a year or two, so Hubert was practically curate -in -charge, and his parochial duties, combined with his pupils, kept him fully employed.

I was very happy at Fircroft when Jem was with me, for he was always ready to listen to my grievances, and sympathise with my disappointments ; but his first term at Oxford was a severe ordeal for me. The pupils did not interest me. Kitty was too much engrossed with her domestic duties, and too over-weighted altogether to be a companion to a girl of nineteen ; and if it had not been for the ladies at the Hall — and especially Aunt Catherine, as Jem and I called her — I should have had rather a dull life ; and yet I tried to do my duty to Kitty and the children, and kept all my discontent to myself. Why is it, I wonder, that we are so dependent on our environ ment . that we are so clogged by circumstance ? that we are unable to rise above the low level of everyday life? Why did Hubert's commonplaces and dry matter-of-fact reduce me to indignant silence, while Jem's mockery and masculine disdain of sentiment only stimulated and amused me?

Why did Kitty's plaintive goodness try me more than downright selfishness would have done ? Why was I so critical of my belongings, so observant of their shortcomings ? Why, indeed ! One day I read a passage in a book of Aunt Catherine's that struck me greatly. It was written by a man who had let all his opportunities slip, and whose life was a failure. And yet this Amiel was a kindly, gifted creature, with noble impulses and a warm heart, and a lofty intellect ; but intense timidity and distrust, and an unwholesome habit of introspection and subtle self criticism spoiled his life-work. ' The man who insists upon seeing with perfect clearness before he decides, never decides,' as he him self truly says ; 'accept life, and you accept regret.' But the passage that touched me most was this : ' Recognise your place; let the living live; and you, gather together your thoughts ; leave behind you a legacy of feelings and ideas.

You will be most useful so. Renounce yourself; accept the cup given you, with its honey and its gall, as it comes.' ' Gather together your thoughts ; leave behind you a legacy of feelings and ideas. You will be most useful so.' I cannot tell why the words haunted me. Could a girl's thoughts and feelings benefit any human being 1 Is there anything in my small experience that could interest or encourage a fellow - creature ? That is what I want to know ; that is why I am ransacking the past in the hope of finding a stray pearl or two of wisdom. The child Olga scorched her finger in the presumptuous search for martyrdom. Perhaps, after all, the girl Olga was no wiser. I was sitting in the garden one afternoon overlooking the children at their play. Kitty was mending, as usual, in the great empty dining-room ; her head ached, and her voice had been more plaintive than usual, as she reluctantly yielded to my request for work. ' There is no need for you to slave too, Olga,' she said, with a certain thinness and acerbity of tone that she always used when she was cross, poor little soul ! ' Of course it is my duty ; but, as Jem said yesterday, you were not to be made a drudge.' So that speech had rankled.

It was only one of Jem's foolish blunders. Jem had been put out because I stayed to help Kitty in the nursery, instead of going down to the Hall garden with him to hear the nightingales. It was just a fit of boyish impatience that meant nothing. But Kitty had fretted over it in tearful fashion all the evening, and here it was turning up again, as such ill-favoured weeds of speech have a knack of doing. ' Please let me have Wilfred's tunic to finish,' I returned quickly, ' for I never care to be idle ; ' and I stretched out my hand for the work — for it was no use arguing with Kitty when she was in this mood — and carried it off in triumph. But before I was half-way down the lawn my conscience began to prick me : why could I not have said something kind to cheer her for the rest of the afternoon ?

Kitty always looked happier if Jem or I said a kind word to her. And here again a speech of my favourite Amiel seemed to prick me with fine needle-like sharpness, for it was so true : ' Oh ! let us not wait to be just, or pitiful, or demonstrative towards those we love until they or we are struck down by illness or threatened with death ! Life is short, and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are travelling the dark journey with us. Oh, be swift to love ; make haste to be kind ! ' With a sudden impulse I went back through the dining-room window just as Hubert entered it by the door. ' My dear, are you very busy ? ' with a rueful glance at his wife's overflowing work-basket. ' I am always busy, Hubert,' returned Kitty rather severely ; ' but of course if you want me ' ' It is only those letters ; they must be answered before post time, and I have to go down to the schools ; but you seem rather overwhelmed, so perhaps Olga might help me,' looking at me rather beseechingly. 'No, no,' replied Kitty hastily ; 'give them to me, Hubert.

It was only last night that Jem complained that we had turned Olga into a perfect drudge, and that she never had time for anything. I would rather slave night and day than hear Jem say that again.' ' My dear, what can you mean ? ' and Hubert looked at us both in solemn disapproval. Kitty's sharp little speeches always took him by surprise ; he had a habit of laboriously picking them to pieces to find out their meaning, which was just going on the wrong tack with Kitty, for when people say more than they mean, it is never well to take them literally ; but Hubert was literal and exact by nature. ' Kitty is talking nonsense,' I interposed. ' Jem meant nothing by his speech ; he does not really think I am put upon, for he knows I like to be useful. If you want me to write your letters, Hubert, you must say so quickly, as the children are waiting for me in the garden.' ' I always write Hubert's letters,' replied Kitty with dignity, for she was not above jealousy, and on certain occasions would stand on her wifely rights. ' Put them down beside me, Hubert, and they shall be ready by post-time.

And you may say what you like, Olga, for you always take Jem's part, but he really meant what he said — that we take advantage of you. It is not the first time Jem has made these speeches.' 'Well, well, have your own way, Kitty,' I said wearily, for I found the discussion fatiguing. I left Hubert to hear the remainder, and to groan in spirit over Jem's selfishness. Somehow my after noon's enjoyment was spoiled — human misunderstanding had thrown a shadow over the sunshine. But I was rather taken aback when I heard Hubert's footsteps following me. ' You are too quick, Olga,' he said reproachfully. ' I wanted to ask you a question. Is it Kitty's fancy, or does Jem really think we put upon you ? ' ' You had better ask him,' I returned scornfully. And then I relented at the sight of his evident perplexity. ' Oh no, Hubert ; Jem never meant it at all.

He was only cross for the moment because I could not attend to him. Why will Kitty make a fuss over every little word ? ' ' She is very sensitive. Jem knows that, and ought to be more careful.' ' You cannot expect a young man always to measure his words, Hubert. Jem is far too kind-hearted to give pain consciously. Kitty is too exacting.' ' You must not find fault with her to her husband, Olga ; ' and I knew by Hubert's voice that he was much displeased. ' Kitty has far too much to do, and she is not as strong as she ought to be. I think you and Jem might make allowances for slight irritability, if not for Kitty's, at least for my sake.' I liked Hubert all the better for standing up for his wife. If I had a husband I would not allow any one to find fault with him, I am quite sure of that. But, all the same, I was bound to defend Jem, and it seemed to me as though Hubert was attacking me personally. ' I am always ready to help Kitty,' I returned in an injured tone ; ' neither you nor she has any cause to complain of my conduct.

It is not quite fair to speak to me in that way.' Hubert looked a little taken aback by this ; he was a quiet, even-tempered man, and was for peace at any price. ' Well, well, don't put yourself out, Olga. Of course, Kitty and I know we have no right to turn you into a household drudge, and, of course, we are very grateful for your assistance. You have always acted kindly by us, but as Kitty felt herself aggrieved by Jem's unlucky speech, I thought I must put matters right. I am not the least offended with you.' ' I would much rather you were offended with me than with Jem.' ' How you do spoil that boy ! ' And here Hubert looked at me reproachfully. ' Nothing Jem says or does is wrong.' ' Nonsense, Hubert ! ' But all the same he was right. I never could blame the dear fellow. I was a little touched when Hubert looked at me in that melancholy fashion, and stroked his coat sleeve penitently.

I believe he had a fatherly fondness for us both. Could it be possible that he was just a trifle jealous of Jem ?— that he thought his only sister should be more to him — was that the reason of his sad look? 'Don't talk any more, Hubert,' I said, dismissing him with a smile ; ' I want to finish Wilfred's tunic. Go back to Kitty, and cheer her up a little. ' No ; I must go to the schools.' But he took my hint, and walked off. I watched him across the lawn. Many people admired Hubert ; Kitty did with all her heart. He was a fair, gentlemanly-looking man, and his beard and spectacles were imposing. He was slightly bald, too, which gave him a patriarchal appearance ; but to me his face was like his sermons — heavy, sensible, and wanting in animation. Hubert had one very tiresome fault — he could not understand a joke.

Jem and I puzzled him dreadfully at times. He woidd look at us_ and shake his head, and then go on with some learned disquisition intended for our edification. I am afraid the pupils took advantage of this want of humour, Mr. Vivian especially. The children were playing under the big mulberry-tree, Hugh in charge of the twins as usual, and Girlie — as baby called herself — toddling over the grass, hand in hand with Wilfred. She screamed with delight and dropped Wilfred's hand at the sight of me. Her big white sun-bonnet had tumbled off, and the rough yellowish curls shone like gold in the sunlight, as she stumped up to me on her little fat legs, and emptied her pinafore into my lap with the lavish generosity of infancy flinging its all with both hands. ' Oo's dot 'em now,' she said, looking lovingly at the cropped daisies and languishing buttercups.

How easy to forget one's grievances in the sunshine ! As I sat with the children playing round me, I felt that it was a lovely world after all. The white butterflies were skimming over the flower-beds, and the great brown bees were humming secrets among the hives. Hugh's fantail pigeons were strutting about the roof, and the deep cawing of rooks sounded from the Hall grounds. Some thrushes were singing in the shrubbery, and a pair of linnets were twittering in their nest above us. The freshness and sweetness of early summer were over everything. They would soon be making hay in the Hall meadows. Fircroft was a rambling old house without any pretension to beauty, but the garden was delightful. A tennis-lawn lay before the drawing-room windows, closed round by shrubberies. This led to the Surprise, as the children called a small inner lawn, with a mulberry-tree and a medlar, and surrounded by beds of old-fashioned flowers which bloomed in their season : bushes of spiky lavender and tall gleaming lilies, and lady's lilies and St. John's, spicy carnations and humbler pinks, lupins and hollyhocks, and quaint old monk's -hood; even the much despised London-pride and sweet-william kept company with sweet peas and nasturtiums — a veritable wilderness of sweets, very different from the stiff beds of geraniums and verbena which were Hubert's special pride.

The Surprise was the children's play ground ; here on summer afternoons the twins sat in the low branches of the medlar-tree with their favourite dolls, and the black and white kitten, Smut, while Hugh and Wilfred worked in their gardens, and I sat reading or working with dear old Rollo at my feet. Rollo was my dog. Mr. Vivian had given him to me when he was only a puppy; he was a splendid black retriever with a beautiful head, and was my constant friend and companion. When Jem went to Oxford, Rollo quite seemed to understand that I was in need of sympathy. I have seen him look at me — well, not with actual tears in his eyes, though I do believe dogs cry sometimes, but with such a pathetic expression in them, as though he were sorry for me, and wanted to comfort me in his doggish fashion.

Chapter II The Ladies At The Hall

' What deep interest there would be in the most commonplace society il we could associate with human beings in this wondering, inquiring way, exactly as the chemist interrogates every new subject by innumerable tests, until he has discovered its properties and affinities.' — Rev. Frederick Robertson. An hour afterwards a light, springy step sounded on the gravel path behind me, and a rough tweed coat-sleeve was interposed between me and my work. ' No, Jem, I am not a bit startled ! ' I returned, coolly keeping the big brown hand prisoner ; and then I drew him down beside me with a welcoming smile. I am afraid it would not be right to call Jem handsome. He was very big, and strong, and brown ; but he had not a fine profile like Hubert, and his features were blunt and irregular. But I liked his honest eyes, and his bright smile, and the merry laugh that always seemed to lighten one's heart, and I think I was even more proud than Jem himself of the dear little budding moustache that looked so fine and silky. ' As though it matters whether a man is handsome or not,' as I would say to Kitty, when she vaunted of Hubert's good looks, and wondered why Jem was so different from his brother.

In my heart I admired Jem excessively, and thought I had never seen a finer young fellow. I liked his strength and his skill in athletic sports. He was a splendid cricketer and a good oarsman, and he could swim, aud shoot, aud ride, so it was no wonder that he did not work quite as hard as other men ; besides which, he was so popular at Oxford that one need not be surprised if he were just a little bit spoilt. ' What have you been doing all the afternoon, Jem ? ' ' Oh, Vivian and Campbell and I started for Drayton, but there was something, wrong with my bicycle, so I had to come THE LADIES AT THE HALL 11 back— and a precious long walk I had ; and just by the Hall I met Aunt Catherine, and she asked if you would come up to tea, and so I said I would bring you : but it seems that would not do — Mrs. Lyndhurst is not so well as usual, and poor Aunt Catherine looked a bit worried.' ' Do you really think she wants me, Jem ? ' ' I suppose so,' flinging up his straw hat and catching it again, for Jem could not be still a moment. ' She said, "Olga has not been here for a week, and I am sure Virginia misses her ; " the meaning of that is pretty evident.' 'Yes,' hesitating a little; 'but I don't want to tell Aunt Catherine why I kept away.

I think Kitty is a little hurt that they never ask her now — she says it is such a slight, and she complained to Hubert about it : but how can I help it if they like me best ? ' ' Kitty is a humbug,' returned Jem, in a disgusted tone ; ' as though she, and Hubert too, do not know what you and Auut Catherine are to each other ! ' ' Yes, indeed. I have always loved her so,' with tears in my voice. ' I can never forget how kind she was to us both when we first came to Fircroft : she made our life ever so much happier.' ' Of course, she is a trump ; I always told you so. I wish she were our real aunt — don't you, Olga? I should not mind being her favourite nephew.' ' You mercenary boy ! but there is Mrs. Lyndhurst to consider — the Hall really belongs to her. Aunt Catherine is not such a rich woman, after all ; at least, her sister seems to have the lion's share.' ' Then you are wrong ; they are co-heiresses.