More Precious than Gold

Front matter

" Ivy, dear, look at me. Come ! U>-&9. MORE PRECIOUS THAN GOLD BY JENNIE CHAPPELL AUTHOR OF "HER SADDEST BLESSING" " 'NEATH AtRIL SKIES " ETC. LONDON S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO. 9 Paternoster Row. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. WHICH INTRODUCES SEVERAL OF OUR CHARAC TERS, 7 II. IVY AND ERIC, 18 III. RETROSPECTIVE AND EXPLANATORY, ... 30 IV. COUSIN CONSTANCE, . . ... . .48 V. IN THE FIR GROVE, 60 VI. "NOT A PENNY YOURS ! " 72 VII. UNDER THE PINES AGAIN, 84 VIII. "SEVEN TIMES HOTTER," 96 IX. THREE SCENES AT WAVERFIELD, .... 109 X. CHIEFLY CONCERNING ERIC, 122 XI. THE ARTIST AND HIS WIFE, 1 34 XII. ERIC, "AUNT AMY," AND IVY DRUCE, . .146 XIII. THE COUSINS, I 59 CONTENTS. VI CHAPTER FAGE XIV. CONSTANCE AND IVY, I71 XV. "IF THINE ENEMY HUNGER, FEED HIM," . .183 XVI. HOW IT CAME ABOUT, 197 XVII. CONCERNING THE HEIRESS, 2IO XVIII.

ALL FOR BABY ! 220 XIX. FRAGMENTS OF TALK, 23 1 XX. FARTHER APART, 244 XXI. A STARTLING ENCOUNTER, 2 56 XXII. IN THE NIGHT WATCHES, 270 XXIII. AT THE COUR-DE-FERME, 282 XXIV. THE SHADOW OF DEATH, 294 XXV. EILEEN ! .

Chapter I. Which Introduces Several Of Our Characters

QUAINT little village was Waverfield upon the Waver — a somewhat straggling collection of tall houses and squatty houses, houses narrow and aspiring, houses wide and low ; some obtruding themselves to the very edge of the footpath, others modestly retiring to the farthest limit of a long front garden, and almost concealed by the tall hollyhocks and standard rose trees, free-growing fruit bushes and broad-disked sun flowers, with which the strip of ground was generally crowded. All jumbled together as they were, in striking contrast of juxtaposition, the chief ambition of each edifice being apparently to present an aspect as different as possible from that of its immediate neighbours, Vane Cottage — the abode of the Misses Sainsbury and Miss Leaf— was usually conceded to be one of the funniest looking domiciles among them.

It derived its name, I may remark, from a weather cock uprising from a gable in the back part of the roof, which, however, being rusty, pointed perpetually due east. "And no vonder!" a Parisian visitor to Waverfield once cuttingly observed, with an expressive shiver and shrug. But Amy Sainsbury always told little Ivy when a child that the bird in question was looking out for the sunrise, and that when he saw the first streak of light he would surely crow. Many a night, therefore, did the little girl go to bed with a fixed determination to wake at dawn and listen for the wondrous chanticleer, but never once had she been able to satisfy her wish. She was always either too early (so at least Aunt Amy told her) or too late, and now for some eight years or so had entirely abandoned the attempt.

This merely en passant. Vane Cottage was an unpretending one-storied building of that rich buff colour one sometimes sees in country houses, with a roof of red tiles that were almost covered by a luxuriant growth of golden green, velvety mosses. Beneath this, two small windows peeped cunningly out, like eyes from under a low browed cap, and a long white curtain to the left of each gave them a grotesque expression as of perpetually trying, but in vain, to peer round the corner into a lane that skirted the house on its corresponding side; the comicality of this effect being enhanced — to those who were able to discern that amusing resemblance to the human visage which many house-fronts exhibit — by a snub nose added below and between them in the form of a gable-topped porch over the door, with the creepers trained thereto from each lower window supplying the fanciful hint of a good-natured, jovial smile.

On a certain sunny blue-and-white afternoon in the month of April, about ten years ago, Vane Cottage presented a particularly comical facial expres sion to a young man who approached the little wooden gate with a brisk, eager step, from that end of the village in the direction of which lay the nearest railway station, for one of the bedroom blinds, usually arranged with the greatest precision, had run down almost to the bottom, and an impertinently confi dential wink was the result. Eric Atherton, glancing up as he placed his hand upon the latch, laughed outright — for he was in merry mood — at this phenomenon, to the great scandal of the elder Miss Sainsbury, who was surveying the village street and speculating upon the errands of passers-by, as was her wont, from her seat behind the lace curtains in the tiny " drawing-room."

" Here 's Mr. Atherton ! " she exclaimed, in accents of astonishment to her sister, who was trying over some new music at the other end of the apartment. " The idea of his coming so early. And — he 's actually smiling up at your window ! That forward thing must be " But before she could finish her sentence a cheerful " rat-tat " was performed upon the loose, tinkling door knocker, and the footsteps of the maiden thus uncharitably alluded to, proceeding unmistakably from the back kitchen to answer the same, proved that for once in her life Miss Sainsbury had been guilty of misjudgment. . Fresh, bright, and life-bringing came the visitor into the rather stuffy apartment where the maiden sisters sat in state to receive whoever might chance to call. An extremely pleasant-looking, likeable young man he must have appeared to any one who saw him just then, for he was feeling his happiest and looking his best ; and thus, it is but fair, he should be first presented to the reader.

Tall and well-made as any man of three-and twenty could desire to be, with head and shoulders regally set, and that graceful ease of movement in every limb which is one of the most indubitable signs of good breeding ; a white, finely-formed brow, earnest, dark-brown eyes — eyes in whose depths a threatening flash would instantly gleam at a hint of injustice or falsehood, but which could shine with womanly gentleness upon the weak or oppressed ; hair of a corresponding hue, and a slight moustache a few shades lighter. This last important item, by the way, though decidedly becoming, yet con cealed one of the most expressive features of the wearer's face — the sweet, tender mouth that he had inherited from a lovely mother, as he had his firm, square chin and resolute independence of character from a strong-willed sire.

" Ivy is not at home just now," was the piece of information which, greetings and commonplaces being disposed of, Miss Sainsbury imparted to her wistfully uneasy guest. She was a tall, plainly-dressed, precise appearing woman, of between fifty and sixty years of age, with a remarkably sallow complexion, a some what lugubrious expression of face, and a constitu tional cough, of which latter I am bound to say that — unlike many greater sufferers — she endeavoured to make the most ; so that though it seemed likely at any time to " carry her off" within six months at the latest, it had not grown perceptibly worse during double as many years. Her only sister, whom I may as well introduce at the same time, was a year or two her junior, but totally different both in character and style. Of a slim, girlish figure and jaunty air, Miss Amy Sainsbury, ignoring the faded and wrinkled skin which told its own tale, depended upon those attractions to preserve what might be termed a reputation for perennial juvenility.

Unlike some ladies of uncertain age, she did not aim to be thought much younger than she really was ; her ambition being rather to demonstrate in her own person that advancing years need not, and should not, extinguish that buoyancy of spirit popularly supposed to be a peculiar attribute of early youth. Naturally light-hearted, and fond of being regarded as excellent company, and "the life of the party," she continued to keep up as much as possible the gaiety of manner which had been considered her greatest charm at eighteen, until and beyond the time of which I am about to write. " Ivy has gone to see if she can find some primroses to help in the church decorations for Easter," con tinued the elder Miss Sainsbury, answering the involuntary shadow that had fallen across Eric's face on hearing her previous remark.

" We did not expect you until the five o'clock train, you know, and she was anxious to avail herself of the hour or two of sunshine while it lasted. What very strange weather we have been having lately, haven't we ? " she went on, with out waiting for any response from Mr. Atherton. " When I looked out at that fog on Sunday morning I said to Ivy, 'Why, my love, this is as bad as London ! ' And indeed it was ; you could scarcely see the end fence from the dining-room window. I knew it before I was out of bed. I said to my sister —did I not, Amy ?— ' I know there is a fog about this morning; I can feel it at my chest' I am so extremely sensitive to every change of that kind, you know, Mr. Atherton. I often remark to Amy — don't I, my dear?—' I am really just like a weather-glass ; I am, indeed ! ' " " Not exactly a pleasant condition, I should think," commented Eric.

" I am not inclined to envy you your barometrical susceptibility." An expression as of mild martyrdom, not un tempered by amusement, had crept into his eyes, as Miss Sainsbury began dilating upon the weather and her own feelings in connection therewith ; and he now, as though anxious to turn her thoughts into another channel, hastened to remark upon the beauty of a branch of pink flowering almond that stood in a jar upon the table. Hereupon Miss Amy tripped lightly forward. "Yes, isn't it lovely?" she rejoined, rather gushingly. "Such a sweet colour! Just the tint we used to like our bonnets lined with when I was a girl ; don't you remember, Harriett? You and I each had a new Dunstable straw for William's wedding, and you chose a blue lining and I a pink, and William said that mine " "I beg your pardon, Amy, I did not have blue!" interrupted Miss Sainsbury, with great decision.

" I never wore anything but white, pure white ; mine was one of the few complexions that would bear it." "Oh, Harriett, dearest, how can you say so?" remonstrated Amy. " I distinctly remember, that you selected sky blue for William's wedding, and I know I said at the time that it was not quite the thing for you, because- " " There now, Amy, that will do, I 'm sure ! Mr. Atherton does not want to hear about the bonnet linings we indulged in thirty years ago." Eric laughed good-naturedly, but, afraid to let slip the present opportunity of escape, he at this juncture rose on his feet, saying : " I think, if you will kindly excuse me, I TI go and meet Ivy, and bring her back. I suppose she has gone to the coppice over the Mossdale Bridge ? " "Yes, she has," returned Harriett. "You are sure to see her if you go that way ; she must be returning by this time, I should think."

"Ah, yes!" said Amy, with an arch smile, "we must not detain you, Eric. But we are apt some times to forget the years that have marched over our heads, and the fact that the society of old ladies is scarcely so attractive as that of young ones." She was hoping that Mr. Atherton would make answer : " Your company, Miss Amy, is as interesting as that of any young girl ; you are so vivacious." But being a man who always said what he meant, and only that, he obstinately didn't ; and merely observing, apologetically, " I hope you won't think me very rude to leave you," made for the door. Miss Harriett accompanied him into the hall. "Don't keep Ivy out long, please Mr. Atherton," she begged. "A raw mist begins to rise from the river quite early these spring afternoons. Amy and I went as far as the old mill yesterday, and though we were back by tea time I feel sure I caught a chill, for I shivered repeatedly during the evening, and sneezed no less than nine times between half-past eight and the time we retired for the night."

" Really, that is very bad," responded Eric, pausing reluctantly upon the threshold. " I trust it will not prove so serious as you fear. Hot water and tallow, you know, Miss Sainsbury, is most efficacious," he added, rather mischievously ; " or is it tallow in gruel ? I almost forget which; but either is good, I don't doubt." " I am sure sister is exaggerating when she speaks of sneezing nine times," put in Amy, who had' followed them out, and was bent upon a bit of retaliation for having had her bonnet linings, metaphorically speaking, " sat upon." " It was not quite so bad as that ! " " Indeed, then, Amy, I am certain I am correct ! " retorted the elder lady with some asperity, for nothing was calculated to give her greater offence than to hint at any time that her cherished " symptoms " were less grave than she asserted.

" There was twice while I was holding that wool for you to wind, and three times during supper (you counted them yourself!), and once while Keziah was clearing away (you didn't notice that, but she said : ' Dear me, miss, I do hope and trust you haven't caught another cold ! '), and then there were three times more — I 'm not sure it was not four — while we were preparing for bed." "Then let me beg of you not to stand in the draught now, Miss Sainsbury," implored Eric, with unimpeachable earnestness, dreading that he might lose his walk with Ivy by the appearance of that young lady round the corner of the lane even as he spoke. " Pray make haste indoors, and keep your self warm by the fire ; there 's nothing like that for a cold." And raising his hat to the irrepressible sisters, before either of them had time to say more, Mr. Atherton hurried down the thrift-bordered path, and passed out by the little garden gate with a feeling of the utmost relief.

"What a time of it the poor darling must have with those egotistical old sillies ! " he commented to himself as he turned up by the side of the privet hedge, watched as far as possible by the peering eyes, now wide open — for Keziah had rectified the fallen blind — of the house he had just left. ■' It is a marvel how such a sweet little flower could have blossomed amid such surroundings. But I '11 soon get her out of it now, please God ! Five months longer, and then ! — " A smile of tender hopefulness broke over Eric's face at the picture which his fancy here called up, to the exclusion of the daisy-sprinkled meadows, the emerald budding hedges, and the young, fairy like foliage of the elm trees that skirted both sides of the way, whose lightly clothed branches spread a net work of daintiest verdure between his gaze and the sweet pale blue of the April sky beyond.

" She shall be happy then, my precious Ivy ! " he murmured, "if love can do it. The poor old souls do the best they know for her, I truly believe, and for her sake I have endless reason to be grateful to them ; but her higher nature must be simply starved." If those knowing window eyes could actually have seen round the corner, and about twenty yards up the lane, they would have detected that the young man's hovering smile was suddenly extinguished, and his reverie broken in upon, by the approach of another masculine figure from the opposite direction. The latter was somewhat smaller and less stately of bearing than Atherton himself, but of equally personable appearance, and also a gentleman. Indeed, it was an unprecedented occurrence for two such extremely good-looking men, both non-residents in the place, to be favouring the village of Waverfield with their presence on the same day — a conjunction of luminaries which in the celestial (and why not the terrestrial ?) sphere ought certainly to be the forerunner of some important disturbance of the elements.

The stranger's physiognomy was, in some respects, even more striking than that of Eric Atherton, for his eyes were of that remarkable light china-blue so seldom seen, and his hirsute adornments — even his hair, which was long enough to fall curling upon the velvet collar of his coat — were of that bright, reddish gold colour equally rare in a grown person. He carried a camp-stool and what was evidently an artist's colour-box in his hands ; and, as he stepped gingerly along the muddy, deeply-rutted path with obvious regard to his trim cloth-topped boots, almost forcing Eric into the nearest ditch, he shot at him in passing, a momentary, half-suspicious glance from those quickly-moving orbs of his, which the other met with a curious and not exactly pleasant sensation thrilling his nerves as he did so ; perhaps (if we may not believe in presentiments, and the involuntary attraction or repulsion experienced on first comino in contact with those who are destined to strongly influence our future life) because each pedestrian simultaneously and uncharitably wondered who the " other fellow " might be, and what his business was at Waverfield.

A moment later and they had passed from one another's sight, not to cross paths again until — ah, far enough from the present conception of either were the circumstances that should precede and attend that next, long-distant meeting ! B

Chapter II Ivy And Eric

iHE River Waver, where it passes by our quaint little village, is among the most picturesque of the smaller streams of Eng land. The terraced banks rise on either shore to a considerable height, and being luxuriantly clothed with various species of fir trees, oak, birch, alder, and mountain ash, the interstices filled with plumy brake-ferns and trailing bramble, lend the scene almost the semblance of a bosky ravine. From no point, moreover, can a better view of its beauties be obtained than the top of that single Gothic arch of stone known as Mossdale Bridge. On the afternoon of which I am writing a stiff breeze from the lower and less sheltered side of the stream blew the water along in waves, adding greatly to the life and beauty of its appearance ; while the colours which it displayed — partly reflected from the wooded banks, partly shining up through limpid ripples from the illumined river-bed — were of almost inconceivable richness.

The dark-tufted branches of rude Scotch pine contrasted strikingly with the vivid verdure of many a delicately-tasselled larch, and these, with the silver-white image of numerous birch stems, the crisped brown last year's leaves upon the late-budding oak, the feathery fronds of bracken, and here and there a tawny-gleaming patch of bare sand, were all thrown back in soft and broken picture from that surface of undulating glass — an exquisite mingling of bronze-green, golden-green, burnished olive, and golden-brown ; with deep, vel vety shadows, and brilliant touches of azure light where the crest of every wavelet mirrored the blue overhead, and flashes of dazzling glory as it caught the sun. Such was the vision that had charmed the artist soul of Lionel Druce, causing him to wade through a tolerable amount of that, to him, abhorrent mixture, mud, to find a suitable situation whence to immortal ise the gem of colouring upon his canvas ; and such, too, was the scene that lay spread before the gaze of Ivy Leaf, as, with her arms resting on the moss grown coping of the bridge, and her basket of pale, sweet primroses on the ground at her side, she stood waiting and thinking.

She was gazing down intently at the ever-gliding water below her feet, of which each lucid purl was touched with a gem-like glint of yellow topaz or rarest emerald, as it flowed over a patch of sunlit weeds and pebbles that lay beneath. But her mind was absorbed with its own dreamings, and in these the glory of the spring afternoon and the beauty of the river just then had no part. Catching a glimpse of the bent face, profile-wise, one could not but be struck with its delicate loveliness of outline, the small, straight nose and sweetly-pouting mouth, the clearly pencilled eyebrows and long, dark lashes ; but not until she glanced up and afforded a peep at the eyes themselves might one rightly judge of the fascination which, willing or not, she exerted over nine-tenths of the people, women and men alike, with whom she came in contact.

I cannot tell you the colour of those wondrous orbs — grey, violet, or brown, either by turns they seemed, and sometimes a combination of all three ; for their hue was lost in the unusual radiance that burned or sparkled, flashed or melted in their luminous depths. The lustre of many a dancing eye is merely surface brilliance, and depends, like most other shining things, upon the brightness of its surroundings ; but the fire in Ivy's eyes came from within, and shone — at least, so some persons averred — in darkness as well as in light. These were the eyes that had drawn out the heart's love of wealthy Eric Atherton with a promise of a rare, if sleeping, soul within, and the half delirious admiration of the artist, Lionel Druce, by their strange, intrinsic charm. Presently, as if the action rose out of her meditation, Ivy draws off the loose and not very fine cloth glove from her left hand— such a white, smooth, pretty little hand !— and thoughtfully watches the prismatic scintillation of a gem-studded ring that encircles the third finger.

Fifty pounds sterling she knows to be the money value of that tiny zone of diamonds. Fifty pounds ! No girl for miles round, not even the baronet's daughter, possesses one to equal it — only to think of that ! — and it is hers ! Yet, singular to relate, it is with a very grave face and a half sigh that she replaces her glove, and, picking up the basket of primroses, turns slowly away from the bridge and towards the village. Carefully she picks her way among the ruts while consciously seeing them not, for her spirit is hovering around a handsome, grand-looking house in one of the most pleasant suburbs of London — a mansion built by her own imagination from designs supplied by another — having a green lawn in front, with fine trees, a broad carriage sweep, a stately portico guarded on each side by an aristocratically hideous griffin (Ivy is very particular about the griffins), and a spacious conservatory and well kept garden in the rear.

Entering, she finds the inside furnished on a scale quite in harmony with the exterior ; blue satin and gilt in the drawing-room — her own choice, and claret velvet in the dining-room ; valuable pictures, graceful statuary, and exotic plants everywhere ; and, finally, amid all this visionary splendour, she beholds her own dainty little figure, arrayed in the most elegant costume which her somewhat inexperienced fancy — drawing partly from the gorgeous dresses that rich Miss Mottle, the soap-boiler's niece, exhibits at church, and partly from the fashion journal which Aunt Amy orders twice a-year from town — is able to conceive. She also sees in shadowy form various old friends, inhabitants of Waverfield, circling about her as satellites around a blazing star, and beholding her magnificence with that scarce concealed mingling of admiration and envy which is the sweetest flattery some female minds can receive; Miss Mottle is among them, and eclipsed !

But suddenly comes a change, and there rises up before her mental view the semblance of a room — only one, she does not think of more — also " somewhere " in London ; a chamber littered with drawings, sketches, and all the various materials familiar to a painter's hand ; containing, moreover, piles of music, a piano, flute, and violin. The central figure in this picture, however, is not herself, but a handsome, fair haired man, with bright blue eyes, and " love-locks " falling gracefully upon a black velvet coat. "And she is his, And he is hers, And they are one together ! " Squash ! Down goes Ivy's neatly-shod foot into a small gulf of mud, and, with difficulty drawing it out, she finds that her golosh is left behind. This is an extremely prosaic termination to a pretty day-dream ; but if a young lady will traverse a country road in early spring with her thoughts as far away as were our heroine's at that unlucky moment, such a catastrophe as the foregoing is only what might be expected.

Leaving, at all risks, the article in question to its ignominious fate, she looks about her for the first time since passing the bridge, and finds herself almost opposite a turning which, like the lane itself, inclines towards Waverfield, and after a brief inde cision her mind is made up. " It is not much farther round," she says to her self, " and it may be better for me to come into the village by way of The Poplars, as he has gone up the lane. The least thing, and less than that, sets some people suspecting." Before she reaches the corner, however, even while the above reflection is passing through her mind, the crown of a " deer-stalker " hat appears above the top of the hedge, round a bend in the way, and the next minute she is confronted by the comely form of Eric Atherton. Ivy stands motionless for several seconds, with a startled, almost frightened look upon her face ; then a crimson flush, though scarcely the rosy dye of a glad surprise, surges up over those lovely features, and she falters : " Oh, Eric !

" As the words leave her lips Atherton reaches her side, and greets her — there being no onlookers but a mild-eyed cow in the field hard by — in the style that pleases him best. But the girl's manner is somewhat shy and con strained, and her lover is quick to feel it. " Why, Ivy, have you nothing to say to me after six weeks' separation?" he queries, in tender reproach fulness, his dark eyes searching her downcast face hungrily for that which, somehow, he fails to find. "You came upon me so suddenly," she answers. " I wasn't expecting you ; and I 've lost my golosh ! " Surely there never hobbled a lamer excuse than this ! But as Ivy extricates herself from his embrace, Eric in wistful silence lets her go ; then having rescued and cleansed the missing article, kneels on the road-side grass to replace it on the little foot — Ivy's feet are small and shapely as her hands — while the girl, supporting herself by a gate post, looks troublously over his head down the winding way, wondering whether " they " can have passed one another, and thinking, too, with another swift hot blush, which Eric does not see, how very, very dread ful it would have been had she done as " he " asked her, and walked with him to near the end of the lane !

The somewhat refractory golosh at length con quered, Eric takes from Ivy's care the basket of primroses, possesses himself of her hand, and they proceed together towards the village. " How is Mr. Atherton ? " the girl asks presently, in the same constrained fashion. " Better, very much better, now. Dr. Roberts says he may not have another stroke for years. He has recovered his speech almost entirely." " I am very glad of that. Then it really was paralysis, I suppose ? " said Ivy. " Yes ; I fear that there is no question about that," returned Eric, gravely ; adding, after a short pause : " He went for a drive two or three times last week — those nice warm days, you know — and he enjoyed it so much. He had not been able to get out once all the winter, and it was quite a pleasure to see the good it was doing him.

That put a new idea into my head, Ivy. Something else that you and I will do, my darling, in the beautiful time that is coming soon." " Another new plan ? Oh Eric, we shall never be able to carry them all out ! " "But this one won't be any trouble — at least not much to us. Now listen, Ivy, and see if it isn't just the sort of thing to commend itself to your dear little compassionate heart. Think how many poor souls there must be — feeble and helpless as my father is, but much worse off, because they are living in miser able, dull, comfortless homes — to whom an hour's easy bowling through the open air, and amid pleasant sights and sounds, would be nothing short of elysian, I am sure. Why, I heard of one poor fellow, only yesterday, who had been out of the house but twice in five years — just imagine it, Ivy!