Bertha

Preface

In submitting these pages to the public, I have been instigated by various motives. First, to record, as accurately as possible, events that have occurred to personal friends and relations at different periods of their lives ; secondly, to prove that truth is often stranger than fiction ; and, thirdly, to produce a book at once truthful and interesting. To my readers who know me, this book will, I trust, not be dull, though in perusing its pages they may remember to have heard some of the facts herein contained from my lips, or from those of him to whom this volume is dedicated. To those to whom I am yet a stranger, I would say that every character here introduced is taken from real life, and it has been my endeavour so to

PREFACE.

. blend the history of each important actor and circumstance as to weave all into one harmonious whole, thus hoping to make my story pleasing. The heroine and her husband are still living — a happy pair — models of conj'ugal fidelity. The little Bertha, now little no longer, is a fine grown young lady. Thus I leave my readers to judge of the merits of the pages now before them, and to say if I have succeeded in interesting them in what to me has been a delightful task — their compilation. ELIZABETH CHEAL. Needham Market. BERTHA

Chapter I

On the morning of December 20th, 1862, the little village of Leyton lay in a covering of hard, crisp snow, which sparkled like diamonds in the morning sun. The air was sharp, but invigorating; the sounds of village industries were hushed for the time being; the blacksmith's forge gave no resounding ring from the hammer wielded by the brawny arm of Joe Baker, a " Diogenes," as he was commonly called by the village lads. The carrier had started on his journey to the nearest town (a distance of eight miles or so), the prints of his horse's feet and van wheels marking his route and the many stoppages for parcels or commissions entrusted to him. He could not wait to witness the ceremony that all were so interested in, and which was to take place that morning in the village church. The trees were covered with hoar-frost, giving the landscape the appearance of fairyland ; icicles hung in fantastic forms from the trees and hedges; the very robins and sparrows, though pinched for food, which the snowy mantle prevented them from procuring, chirped and twittered in a subdued but joyous manner, and seemed to give their greeting to the young girl who, this day, was to unite her fate with one she loved, and with whom she was to leave all known friends and kindred and venture forth to a foreign land where, as yet, all was vague and shadowy as to her special duties and trials.

B BERTHA. 10 Would she have withdrawn, even now, from her promise, had but a tithe of the difficulties she was doomed to en counter and the sorrows to be endured been known to her, is a question : indeed, the knowledge of the future is in mercy withheld from us, or we should fail under the misfortunes which are to be our lot, or our sober senses would be unduly elated at the promise of the coming joys ; the thousand hopes and fears, which give zest to our daily pleasures, would have no place in our hearts, and all wholesome expectancy and excitement would be banished from us. But to my tale. This morning, promising so bright, and so pure in sunshine and clearness, was to see Bertha Woodcote married to Philip Harland. Bertha was but a girl, barely seventeen years old, an orphan with but few friends, and only one distant relative, who took no interest in her.

This relative, to relieve himself of trouble and responsibility, had placed her while very young at a boarding school, set apart a sum of money for investment, the interest only of which was to be used for her until she was twenty-five years of age. The money he placed out himself in Foreign Canal Shares, rather against the advice of his lawyer. This lawyer was cognisant of all particulars relating to Bertha, and out of kindness of heart, rather than let the desolate child remain at school during the vacations, generally invited her to his house in London, where his wife, though not altogether liking the charge, made her welcome. Mr. Seaton, the lawyer, was a man of some fifty years of age ; he had succeeded to the business of his principals, to whom he had been articled, and had, as Whittington is said to have done long before, married the daughter and only child of the younger brother and partner of the firm, Burton & Burton, solicitors.

The elder brother never married ; consequently, on the death of these worthies some twenty years before my story begins, Mr. Seaton was thoroughly established in the practice, and Sophie Burton's fortune was of great help to the rising man. They had one son, Hugh. He had been educated at a good Grammar School, and, gaining a scholarship, was sent to Cambridge, his school companion, Philip Harland entering College at the same time. BERTHA. 11 These two companions had spent the long vacation of the last year of their University career together at this little village of Leytdn, where Mr. Seaton had hired a house, hoping quiet and country air, with the usual delights of country life, might benefit his wife, who had been in weak health for some time past. For the last two years Bertha's holidays had been spent with a late school-fellow in a distant county, so that Hugh Seaton had seen nothing of her for two or three years.

His mother was at times a little anxious lest an attachment might spring up between her son and Bertha, for she had high hopes for him; but when naming her fears to her husband, he laughed them away, or in his blunt manner said : " Why not ? If the girl proves herself worthy and useful, with an intelligent mind like hers, her character will develop ; she will become a spur to her husband's intellect ; and I think a young man will be lucky to gain her for a wife." But such fears were groundless : a sterner fate than to be the wife of Hugh Seaton was in store for this orphaned girl. In this season of summer delights — the freedom from restraint — the pleasant surroundings of the home in the quaint village — Bertha was indeed happy. She was helpful to Mrs. Seaton, though, at the best of times, not fond of domestic duties, or skilled, as most girls are at the present day, in the use of the needle ; she did not even condescend to the fancy work of the period.

Her chief enjoyment was in conversation with the male members of the family. Her personal appearance was not striking. She was short in stature, slight in build, and, though far from being a beauty in the common acceptation of the term, she was interesting-looking, having a broad, square forehead, which would not have been amiss on the face of a man ; straight but short nose, rather sharp at the end. The lower part of her face and cheeks generally were small, as also was her mouth ; her teeth were small, white, and regular ; lips thin, marking the determination of her character. Her intellect was most keen ; she was sarcastic and witty to a degree beyond prudence often ; but the kindly beam from her hazel eye took away much from the sharpness of her repartee, and her happy smile spoke of a BERTHA. heart that was full of joy and brightness.

Her complexion was rather sallow, and she never had a colour ; consequently, care was needed in choosing dress to become her. This matter, however, she made little trouble about, being content with Mrs. Seaton's selections. Such was Bertha Woodcote's outward appearance, but of her character, already developed beyond her years, something must now be said. She was idle, as the term is applied to girls generally, and this was a sore point with Mrs. Seaton, who argued — and with good reason too — that a girl with her small and precarious means should endeavour to become generally useful, for she could not tell what her future needs might be, nor whether feminine work of some kind might not be a necessity for her by and by. But she argued in vain ; Bertha could not, or would not, attempt to overcome her repugnance to homely duties or the use of the needle.

She would talk and argue on many subjects with old Mr. Seaton, Hugh, and even Philip Harland, and amuse them all by her witty sallies, till they were fain to take her part against Mrs. Seaton, and let her enjoy her life as it might suit her for the time. But, in this brief season of rest and enjoyment, Philip Harland gave his heart to the young girl, though he kept his love a secret in his own breast. He had no immediate prospect of settlement, and he hesitated in binding her to a promise till there was hope of something to offer her, as he would have to depend for some years entirely on his own efforts for a living ; and, being of a proud and reserved nature, he could not bear the thought of asking Bertha for her hand until there was a home ready for her. Of her partiality for him he at times doubted, anxious though he was to be assured of it ; so he left the home of the Seatons at the end of the vacation in a despondent frame of mind.

In appearance, Philip Harland was a complete contrast to Bertha, being at once striking-looking, tall, well-formed, of graceful carriage and decided colouring. His skin was very white; he had large dark eyes, and black hair that lay in wavy masses on his forehead ; his moustache, whiskers, and eyebrows, too, were perfectly black ; his nose aquiline. The eyes and mouth were the most expressive features of BERTHA. 13 his face. The former were soft and tender in their glance, and spoke of a trusting and affectionate heart ; but the mouth was large and the lips full, with a look of doubt and indecision upon them, thus bespeaking a weakness in his character. He was one that would follow in all integrity the plans of a leader ; but, if left to his own resources, would fail utterly. Though his abilities were of a high order, he had no self-reliance ; and, where all in his character was so good, pure, and noble, his career might be marred irre trievably by want of decision at some critical moment.

Hence, though he felt it would be his greatest happiness to be assured of Bertha returning his love, he left her without a word, and she knew not what to think. She had felt, in their short intercourse, truly happy in his society, and knew not why such a blank seemed to come into her life on his departure. Bertha was to remain with Mrs. Seaton for a short time. Her school life was finished, and plans for her future were in abeyance for the present. About a month after the return of the two young gentle men to Cambridge, a relative procured for Philip the offer of an appointment in a college in India, to be entered upon as soon as possible. This offer brought his fate to a crisis. He determined that if Bertha would become his wife he would accept the mastership, and he wrote at once and placed the decision in her hands.

The letters arrived during the breakfast hour. Mr. Seaton handed Bertha's to her, and then perused the one he had received from Philip, soliciting his interest in his suit with Bertha's only relative. To say Bertha was not surprised would be wrong. She was both surprised and startled ; for, though so young, her depth of thought enabled her to grasp the seriousness of the situation in which she was placed. Her heart beat high with delight at the prospect of becoming the wife of hand some Philip Harland, whose gentle disposition and unob trusive goodness she already had been so attracted by, though never, as yet, having analysed her feelings to think of him, or any one else, in the light of a lover. She was absent and quiet for so long that Mrs. Seaton could not but observe the alteration from her usual liveli ness, and inquired the cause.

BERTHA. " I have had a letter from Mr. Harland," said Bertha. " What has he had to write to you about ?" said Mrs. Seaton. " Oh ! he has the offer of an appointment in India." " But how can that concern you ? " "He has asked my opinion, and other things," said Bertha, hesitatingly. "What can a child like you have to say on such a matter? It is a most absurd proceeding on his part, I think," said Mrs. Seaton. " He says he will go if I wish," replied Bertha. " If you wish ! " said Mrs. Seaton. " Surely Philip must have taken leave of his senses ! It is a ridiculous thing for him to write to you on the matter ; it can be no concern of yours." "But he wishes it to be my concern," said Bertha. " He says he wishes to marry me." " What ! Marry a child like you ! What can induce him to entertain such an idea ?

Why does he wish to marry you ? " asked Mrs. Seaton. " Because — because — " replied Bertha, now completely overcome. "He says he loves me, and I can make him happy if I will marry him : and if I will go with him he will accept this appointment." Tears came to relieve her excitement ; and Mrs. Seaton, not being altogether hard-hearted when she gave herself time to think, was moved with pity, and a tenderness till now unfelt for the lonely girl seemed to enter her bosom. Her callousness had been the result of thoughtless selfishness — a not uncommon failing with those who have been brought up in an atmosphere of indulgence, and who have, as Mrs. Seaton had, been shielded from all trouble and difficulty through childhood, girlhood, and thus far into mature life. Mrs. Seaton left Bertha to talk with her husband.

He had much faith in Bertha, and looked favourably upon the affair, providing she herself felt happy in the prospect opening before her ; and Mrs. Seaton was brought to look upon the marriage in a far different light, before leaving her hus band's study, from the view she had taken of it when the news was first communicated to her. So, in the after interview with Bertha, she was able to point out, what her BERTHA. 15 husband believed, her special suitability for Indian life, providing her affections were in harmony with it all. Her decision of character would be a help to Philip, and her common sense and general liveliness and intelligence render her an agreeable companion where so much would depend upon her. Her objection to domestic duties would not be a draw back, where all had to be done, as in India, by servants of various castes ; and her almost desolate condition would enable her to leave England with but few regrets.

Thus, then, matters were speedily settled, and as the marriage must take place as soon as possible, Dora Mars field, Bertha's only friend, was invited to Leyton to help in the preparations for such an important affair. Dora was to be Bertha's bridesmaid, and, of couise, Philip must have Hugh Seaton for his best man on the occasion. There was to be as little fuss as possible, and the bride decided to be married in a sober travelling dress. That chosen was a pale grey cashmere, with bonnet of the same shade, composed of velvet and feathers. Dora wore a dress of brown cloth, with bonnet of the same colour, relieved by a scarlet wing. Weddings were not frequent in this village, therefore it was not surprising that the little church was full of people all eager to witness the ceremony, and to be able to talk afterwards of the appearance of each individual amongst the group around the altar rails.

Most of those present had heard ofthe long, long journey in store for the bride and bridegroom, and were the more deeply interested in consequence. Now the bells rung out a merry peal and all was over, the names signed in the vestry, and Bertha, leaning on her husband's arm, quitted the church. Rice and sugar-plums were plentifully showered upon her by the bystanders ; the rice being an emblem of plenty, and the sugar-plums of happiness, so the villagers said. We must now leave Bertha for a time. She and her husband were to start for London within an hour, whence, after a brief stay, they would go to Southampton, and then embark on the vessel that was to take them to Egypt. Mr. Seaton, in bidding Bertha good-bye, said : "You are now a very important personage ; you are to be guide and counsellor to Philip, who will most assuredly be influenced BERTHA. by your judgment.

Be earnest, then, and don't hesitate to give your opinion when you are consulted. There will be much to bear, much to learn, and many difficulties to over come, but a brave heart and steadfast purpose will do much to lessen each. You will have opportunities, in the society in which you will no doubt mix, of influencing others ; always let that influence be for good, and never, if possible, make an enemy. This is but worldly counsel to give you, but you will do well to follow it." Bertha thanked him heartily for all his kindness to her, and for his good advice. She was much overcome, and the leave-taking had to be hurried. The horses were impatient to start, and as the train would not wait for them, no further delay could be allowed. " Well ! " said Hugh, " I have lost my friend, and shall miss him sadly, but cannot blame him."

" Blame him," replied his father, " certainly not. It is the very best step he could take, and he has shown wisdom in his proceedings. I am confident he will do well if his health will but keep good." " As for Bertha," said Mrs. Seaton, " she will be able to order her servants, and plan work for others to do. The people she is going amongst will not mind that, and she can also help Philip in many ways that few other girls could." Thus, then, did they talk of the pair who had so lately left them. Dora felt sad and lost ; but she had other ties, and was soon to return to her home, where Bertha had so often been a favourite and welcome guest.

Chapter II

May Mahon, about whom this chapter will speak, was a high-spirited, dashing girl, who had been sent from Ireland with a younger sister (Grace) to a finishing school at the favourite town of West Harborough in the North of England.. May was a very beautiful girl, tall and fair, with the most perfect features and graceful carriage : her head was well set upon her shoulders, giving her a proud and imperious air. She was wilful, thoughtless, and daring ; not from a desire to do wrong, but from a love of fun, excitement, and adventure ; ?uch a character that, in a boy or a man, would have inspired to noble deeds of valour, in a girl is apt to le?.d into errors, unless well restrained. She was a leading character amongst others, and one whose example would have effect in a school for good, when she allowed her better nature to triumph, as she was never guilty of a mean or underhanded action, being noble and generous in help ing others when in difficulties ; but her impatience of con trol, her imperious manner when under reproof, and her hasty passion, prevented her being the example to her younger schoolfellows that her age and position warranted.

The school at which she and her sister had been placed was conducted by a Miss Silverton, a lady of talent and experience. Possessing a kind heart, with tacl and judg ment, she had been most successful in the conducting of her school, and her pupils deservedly loved and reverenced her. BERTHA About a year before my story begins a Mr. Wilkinson, an M.A. of repute, had established a school for the prepara tion of youths for the army examinations in the same town of West Harborough where Miss Silverton's school was situated, and had for some of his pupils brothers and rela tives of the girls attending that school. Mr. Wilkinson's school was called by some "a coaching school," by others "a cramming school;" but whatever coaching or cramming was done, it occupied but little of their time, for they were out walking or riding about at all hours of the day.

At this time Mr. Wilkinson had five youths — the Hon. George Villiers, son and heir of Lord G. Rivers ; the Hon. Hamilton Ashbrook ; David Stone, son of General Stone, at that time in India; Herbert Granville; and John Trevor, nephew of Lord Trevor. These choice spirits (at once venturesome and careless as to consequences to themselves or to others) determined upon a course of extravagant tricks, which should astonish their staid and scholarly preceptor, shock his prim and sanctimonious wife, and terrify the meek and submissive tutor, Mr. Norburn, whom Mr. Wilkinson had engaged to be in charge of them when not under his own eye. One evening, while Mr. Norburn was supposed to be off duty, and enjoying the luxury of a quiet half-hour before retiring to rest, one of his charges went to his room, and abstracted three pairs of trousers, which had been carefully laid away with the rest of each suit of clothes.

After he had retired for the night, he heard a knock at his door, and on replying to it, Stone begged for admittance, as he had something to say to him. Villiers followed him into the room. " I say, Norburn ! will you beg for a holiday for us to morrow? We want to go fishing," said Stone. Now, any one who knew anything of Mr. Wilkinson would have understood that such a request coming from a tutor would be looked upon as a mad venture. Mr. Norburn, who, when aroused from his bed, had enveloped himself in a dressing wrapper, stood looking at the intruders in amazement; then, after a while, he said — "I don't know — I think not. Mr. Wilkinson would BERTHA. 19 not like it. Don't you think you had better ask him your selves?" Stone, anxious for Villiers to catch up the pair of trousers lying on the chair, and escape from the room unseen, drew Mr. Norburn aside as if to whisper something in his ear; but when he found Villiers was safely off, said — " There ! never mind, old fellow, we'll ask him ourselves in the morning," and hastened off.

The next morning, to the surprise of Mr. Wilkinson and all those not in the secret, Mr. Norburn was ab sent from his place at morning study. Time passed, the breakfast hour approached, still Mr. Norburn did not appear. At last Mr. Wilkinson sent the servant to inquire if that gentleman was ill. Old George, the man-servant, hearing Mr. Norburn's tale of the loss of every pair of trousers, which prevented him leaving bed, at once suspected that a trick had been played upon him. He searched the young gentlemen's rooms, and soon found the missing garments, so that before the meal was completed Mr. Norburn was able to join the party at table. Mrs. Wilkinson looked severe, but Mr. Wilkinson was fortunately occupied with his Times, and so did not notice the entrance of the tutor, nor the titter amongst his pupils as he took his seat at table.

Poor Mr. Norburn was on thorns ; he avoided the severe eye of Mrs. Wilkinson, and he dreaded to look the principal in the face, and to be obliged to explain the cause of his lateness. " Won't you take an egg, sir?" said Villiers, handing him the dish ; and as if to make up for his share in the trick played upon him, Stone was most assiduous in his attentions to the shrinking little man. "It's no fun to play tricks on him, he's too tame," said Trevor ; " let's try it on the old girl, and see what she'll do ? " At first this suggestion was not acted upon, but after a while agreed to. Mrs. Wilkinson was to be dealt with severely, for they all hated and despised her. (She had no children of her own, and this was a source of grief to her.) A package containing boxes of toys was directed to her, BERTHA. each box being ticketed to an imaginary young Wilkinson, and an extra large parcel, containing a well-dressed doll, labelled " For the darling Hippy."

Mrs. Wilkinson's name was Hypatia, but her husband called her Hippy, a name that seemed entirely out of place for a gaunt-looking Welsh woman as she was. Prim and starchy in appearance and deportment she seemed to think it almost a sin to laugh or pass a joke, and as for any fun or games they were looked upon as frivolities which ought not to be indulged in. The servants called her " a bitter bill " and dreaded offending her, as did all over whom she had control, for to them she used her lash of severity unmercifully ; but to her husband's pupils it was very different. To them she was almost servile. She feared to offend them, and they knew this. They paid her husband well and consequently she had to wink at many of their reckless and daring proceedings, suffer her furniture to be injured and her servants worried and caused unnecessary work.

Mrs. Wilkinson therefore was not likely to be a favourite with such youths as David Stone and his companions; they called her the "Arch- Hypocrite." When old George was asked what Mrs. Wilkinson's name was he replied, " Well ! I expect it must be Hypperkrite, for a regular hypperkrite she is — a going prayin' and pretendin' she's so mighty good. It's my opinion prayers don't go a great way towards heaven, when those who say 'em act contrairy." And so from that day forth the name Hypperkrite stuck to Mrs. Wilkinson through all the sets of pupils her husband received. The tricks of these youths, however, reached the climax when they made a public exhibition of themselves in the town, riding decorated bicycles, smoking cigars, and disturb ing the residents of the houses near by playing a banjo and other instruments at late hours, to do which they had to leave the house by stealth.

For this David Stone and George Villiers, the two ringleaders in the games, were ex pelled from Mr. Wilkinson's establishment. This Spring holiday May was to spend at the home of Blanche, at Richmond. Maude Evered, Blanche's eldest sister, was engaged to the Rev. George Ruddock, and they BERTHA. 21 were to be married very soon. Mr. Ruddock had been acting as tutor to a Mr. Bentley, who had a school at East Moulsey, where Charles Evered was placed ; but a family living in Yorkshire had fallen in, and, to Mr Ruddock's delight, he had now a home to offer Maude ; so they were to be married as soon as all matters could be arranged and the rectory put into thorough repair fox them. Mr. Ruddock had been for two years with Mr. Bentley, and had endeared himself to both principal and pupils, and it was a source of regret to Mr. Bentley that he was about to lose so valuable an assistant.

Charles Evered, too, though he would have him for a brother, would miss him sadly, as he had yet another year before him ere he could go to Sandhurst, for which place he was being prepared. The expulsion of Villiers and Stone from Mr. Wilkinson's happened at an unfortunate time for them. It was necessary that they should be ready for a coming examination, there fore they had to be transferred without delay to some other school, or tutor, and their holiday given up. Lord Rivers being recommended to send his son to Mr. Bentley's for the brief time that must elapse before he went up for his examination, arranged for David Stone to accom pany him, as General Stone's absence in India prevented his being consulted at the moment; thus the two incorrigibles went together from Mr. Wilkinson's to East Moulsey.

At the time they arrived there the majority of Mr. Bentley's pupils had dispersed for the Spring vacation, but Mr. Ruddock, Maude Evered's future husband, remained, and was introduced to the two fresh pupils, George Villiers and David Stone ; but he was not made aware of the cause for their leaving Bridgeton Wells. With the family of the Evereds, boating was a great amusement. Their house was near the river, the garden sloping down to the water's edge. They had a well-filled boat-house, and the inmates could go from the garden on to the river at their pleasure. Maude and Blanche rowed well. May Mahon, however, was almost a stranger to oars ; her forte was on horseback ; still, being of a fearless nature, and delighting in all kinds of out-door exercise, she entered with zest into all plans formed for their general amusement.