'By the World Forgot.'

Front matter

"By the World Forgot." BY E. J. CLAYDEN L qJn DON: FREDERICK WyVRNE & Co., 1890. [All rights reserved.] Sir JOHN BENNETT, Ltd ŒSaatrft mU (Cfivonomtttv iHanufacturcrg, 65 & 64 CHEAPSIDE, LONDON, E.C. SILVER WATCHES, I GOLD WATCHES from £2. I from £5. £5 The CHEAPSIDE S-Plate KEYLESS LEVER WATCH, with Chrono meter Bal ance, and jewelled in thir teen actions, in strong silver case, with crystal glass. The cheapest watch. ever produced. Air, damp, and dust tight. Free and safe per post for ,£5. In return for Post Office Order, free and safe by post, one of BENNETT'S GENTLEMEN'S GOLD KEYLESS LEVEH WATCHES, with Chronometer Bal ance, and jewelled in thirteen actions ; in all respects a thoroughly j*ound, useful watch. buvJSHjfjjSbwNETT, Ltd., 65 eV^Chaapside. -|C>g^ From £5, free and safe per post, one of BENNETT'S LADIES' COLD KEYLESS WATCHES.

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Chapter I. The Eectoey

' Its mountains are not Alps, nor its woods forests ; But all its features are so well combined, And in such just proportion, that the eye, Charmed with the perfect picture, asks no more.' ' A gentleman to see master, if you please, 'm,' said the maid, holding a salver towards her mistress on which lay a card and a note. 'Your master is not at home, Sarah; you knew that,' Mrs. Harvey replied fretfully. She had already been disturbed more than once during the morning, and her temper was not of that equable quality which bears the little worries of domestic life in a philosophical spirit. She took the card, and read ' Allan Aubrey.' ' Did he bring the note, too?' she inquired. Almost before the servant could reply in the affirmative, a girl, sitting in the large bow-window, the centre part of which opened right on to the lawn, cried out : ' Here is papa, coming in now !' Mrs. Harvey gave a sigh of relief. ' Then run and give him these, Mabel,' handing her the note and card.

To toss her sewing down and scamper off across the grass as fast as her long legs could carry her was, for Mabel, the work of a second or two only. The Eector paused, looked at the card, and opened the note. Then bidding the girl go back to her mother, he turned aside to enter the house by the door, instead of coming in at the open window, as had evidently been his previous intention. Mabel came in looking curiously at the card ; her sister caught her by the arm. ' Let me see, Mab;' then she, too, read 'Allan Aubrey.' ' "Who can it be, Nellie ? Papa looked so pleased.' ' It was a tall young man ; I saw him coming up the avenue just before the door-bell rang.' ' If you girls will keep on whispering, how can I finish these clothing-club accounts !' interrupted Mrs. Harvey, in a still more irritated tone of voice. ' Do go on with your sewing, and let me have a quiet half-hour !' After this there was silence for some time.

At length the opening of a door was heard, voices talking cheerfully, footsteps approaching, and then the Rector entered the room, bringing with him a tall, fair, pleasant-looking young man, whom he introduced to his wife as ' Mr. Allan Aubrey — the son of a very old friend.' Mrs. Harvey closed her account-books with a stifled sigh, but there was scarcely a trace of her recent irritation in her manner as she welcomed the visitor, and then presented him to ' My eldest daughter ' and ' Mabel.' ' Mr. Aubrey's father and I, my dear,' said the Rector, ' were at Oxford together, and we were great friends. He also was preparing for the Church at that time, although,' he added, turning to his visitor again — ' although he was so devoted to his painting that I believe he wished even then to adopt it as a profession.' ' His father had a great desire to see him in the Church,' the young man replied, ' but eventually he got his own v ay.' ' Yes ; I believe he had doubts finally as to the orthodoxy of his views.' ' Very grave doubts,' said the stranger, with a slight smile. ' It was a wise determination ; he would have made a poor sort of parson, and the world would have lost some very beautiful pictures.' ' He tells me,' returned Mr. Harvey, ' that he looks forward to a worthy successor in you.' THE RECTORY. 9 ' I hope I shall not disappoint him.

I am down here sketching now. It is my first visit to the " loveliest county in England," and, I must own, great as were my expectations, they have been more than realized.' ' No doubt it is very pretty,' said Mrs. Harvey ; ' but I wish we were not quite so far from town. Living here year after year one is apt to get tired of nothing but scenery ; the society is dreadfully limited.' 'Yes,' put in the Rector; 'we have actually only one family with whom we can visit upon terms of equality.' The visitor smiled again. It was a pleasant smile, and brightened up a face that looked as if it were made for smiles — open, candid, and intelligent. ' I think I know whom you mean. Curiously enough he also is an old friend of my father's, and a very clever interesting man, I believe, but with a sad history.

I have an introduction to him also, but my father has unfortunately mislaid the exact address, though he remembers it is somewhere in your neighbourhood. No doubt, however, you can direct me.' ' We can hardly be meaning the same person, I think,' said Mrs. Harvey stiffly. ' The friends my husband was alluding to are the Champions — Squire Champion and his family ; very nice people, but certainly with nothing sad in their history.' ' Oh !' replied the visitor. ' I meant Mr. Grey, formerly editor of the Daily Bulletin! The two girls had not yet spoken ; but the young man had been watching them with some interest, mixed with a good deal of admiration. At this moment he saw them exchange a significant glance. The Rector cleared his throat before replying : ' Oh — ah — yes ; there is a Mr. Grey living here, but I don't — well, we don't visit, in fact.' Aubrey looked from one to the other somewhat sur prised.

There appeared to be some mystery about Mr. Grey. ' Isn't he one of your parishioners '?' he inquired. ' Yes, certainly.' Here Mrs. Harvey interposed. ' But they don't come to church, Mr. Aubrey — indeed, they go nowhere. I believe both father and daughter are infidels !' ' Oh, there's a daughter, is there ?' he asked, with increased interest. Then the older of the two girls sitting in the window raised her head, and, looking straight at the visitor, said : ' Yes, and a very pretty girl, only she has such a sad expression ; and sometimes she looks a little defiantly at us, as if she thought she was quite as good as we are, and was vexed with us because we won't admit it.' ' My dear Nellie,' said her mother tartly, ' you know nothing whatever of Miss Grey, and I don't suppose she thinks anything of the kind.

Of course,' she continued, turning to the artist — ' of course, if they wanted to know U3 they would come to our church.' ' Hum ! I'm not so sure,' said Aubrey. ' I expect Mr. Grey is rather " advanced " in his views ; but my father thought most highly of him, I know. He tells me he was a man of wonderful energy and splendid abilities, but unfortunately obliged by ill-health to relinquish his post while comparatively young, and after his retirement I understand he sustained serious money losses.' ' I know they are dreadfully poor,' put in Nellie again, and Aubrey thought the tender sympathy in her face made her look even sweeter than the half-saucy smile he had found so charming before. ' The girl might have taught, or something, no doubt, but for their peculiar views,' said Mrs. Harvey, with her nose still higher in the air. ' Of course, as it is, no one visits them, and they take no part in anything that may be going on.' ' It must be like being buried alive !' said young Aubrey. ' I believe Mr. Grey's state of health renders him un equal to seeing any visitors.

I hear his memory is quite gone,' said the clergyman. ' I hope he will see me ; my father will be disappointed if I cannot take him some account of his old friend. I suppose, at any rate, you can tell me how to find him.' ' Certainly.' After this Mr. Harvey changed the subject, asking the THE RECTORY. 11 young man many questions about his work, his parents, his relations, and friends. In this way half an hour slipped quickly away, and when Aubrey rose to take his leave he received a cordial invitation to dine with them next day, and ample directions for finding Mr. Grey's cottage.

Chapter II

A QUIET NOOK. "... Even as if the spot Had been, from eldest time, by wish of theirs So placed, to be shut out from all the world !' Wordsworth. Following the Rector's instructions, Aubrey turned out of the Rectory gates along the road leading away from the village, taking, after a time, a turning to the left — a narrow, shady lane — some distance up which he came to a little white gate — shabby and worn, as if the paint-pot and it had long been strangers — bearing the nearly effaced inscription, ' Yew Tree Cottage.' No sign of any house could be seen from the road ; the thick, high hedges on either side, lovely with wild flowers and ferns, were evidently seldom disturbed by the gardener and his shears. He opened the gate and entered. The path lay for a little way between two high hedges, each a complete bank of ferns.

Suddenly he came upon a sight so quaint and picturesque that he paused, and could hardly re strain an exclamation of surprise and admiration. In front of him was a little garden surrounded by ancient yews, cut, after a barbarous and, happily, almost ex tinct fashion, in different curious, grotesque shapes. One represented a peacock, with outstretched tail, standing on a square pedestal ; another a tortoise ; a third an elephant's head ; other forms were scarcely distinguish able, for the trees themselves being long since dead, they remained only as supports for the ivy and other creepers, with which they were completely covered. There were twelve of these quaint trees, six on each side of the garden, dividing it from fields on the one hand and a kitchen-garden on the other. A smooth, soft lawn lay in front of the house ; the path going round by one row of yews to a rustic porch, covered, like the rest of the cottage, with honeysuckle and lovely clusters of feathery, wild white clematis.

It was a tiny cottage of two stories only. The quaintly latticed case ments were all open ; flowers standing inside on the broad window-sills ; but there was no sign or sound of any inhabitant. He walked up to the flowery porch ; he could see neither bell nor knocker ; the door, too, stood wide open ; it led straight into the parlour. It was impossible to resist the temptation to look inside. A threadbare carpet, from which the pattern had long since vanished ; two or three large easy-chairs in light cotton covers, well washed and much mended, bearing only a faint suspicion of the gay colours that had once enlivened them ; a book case filled with substantial volumes, and a small round table covered with a faded cloth, on which stood an open basket filled to overflowing with work, the thimble and scissors, apparently only just laid aside by the industrious fingers of their owner ; and flowers — everywhere !

Roses of all hues in a huge bowl on the table, mignonette in bunches on the narrow, high mantel-shelf, musk and lilies, and gaudy geraniums in pots on the deep window seat and filling the little old-fashioned grate. Aubrey walked away again. Yes, there was a path along the side of the cottage, leading probably to a back door. He was right ; it also stood open. A steep stone step led down into a tiny kitchen ; a bright fire burned in the grate, and a girl stood at the table with sleeves turned up and hands plunged well into a basin containing some floury mixture. He raised his hat as he stood outside, bending his tall head to look in at the little low doorway, and said quietly : ' I beg your pardon ; but does Mr. Grey live here ?' The girl started and stared at him for a moment in evident astonishment, not unmixed with alarm ; then, still keeping her eyes fixed upon him, she moved quickly towards an open door behind her, and cried out in clear, decided tones : ' Patty !

Patty !' ' Pray don't be frightened,' said the young man, with the pleasant smile that had so often won him friends before. ' My father knew Mr. Grey very intimately many years ago; here is a note for Mr. Grey from him. I am an artist and have come down here on a sketching tour. My father, Mr. Aubrey — Henry Aubrey, the artist, you know — wished me not to leave this neighbourhood without making his old friend's acquaintance. ' ' Put it down on the dresser,' said the girl rather shortly ; ' I can't take it, my hands are all over flour. Oh, Patty,' she continued, as a small rosy-cheeked maiden appeared in answer to her previous summons, ' take that note to your master and wait for the answer.' Then she went on mixing her pudding, or whatever it was, while the artist stood watching her. The curtness of her behaviour amused him and excited his curiosity. ' I shall just make her talk and be friends,' he said to himself, adding aloud : ' Then you, I suppose, are Mr. Grey's daughter?' As this elicited nothing more than a slight bend of the head, he continued : ' I heard about you at the Rectory just now.' She glanced up quickly, and her lips parted as if to speak, but she closed them again instantly and said nothing.

They were rather thin lips, and when firmly shut, as now, the mouth was stern, but indicating determination and quiet indomitable pride rather than ill temper. The eyes were remarkable — a clear, light gray — surprising one at their first glance, as, from the darkness of the long lashes and delicately marked eyebrows, one half expected the eyes themselves to be dark also. A low, white forehead, dark hair, turned up in pretty waves and coiled simply about a small, well-shaped head, completed the picture which met the artist's e} e. He noticed also just that slightly-defiant expression which blooming, bonny, golden-haired Nellie of the Rectory had alluded to. ' I am immensely struck by your yew-t'^es,' said he ; ' I never saw such queer things before. I suppose they are very old ?' ' Yes,' was the answer. ' I can't altogether admire them.

They are more comical than beautiful, and yet I like them. Is the cottage very old, too?' he asked, seeing that an answer was only to be obtained by a direct question. ' About two hundred years old, I believe,' she replied. ■ And have you lived here long ?' ' All my life,' said the girl, looking up at him again. How pathetic those wonderful eyes could look, and how the slight touch of emotion seemed to expand and darken them ! ' Good heavens ! All your life here in this cottage, in this village. But perhaps you have been away to school ?' She watched him attentively while he spoke, and it seemed as if the result of the inspection proved satisfac tory, for she became a little more communicative. 'No,' she replied; 'I was born here and have re mained here ever since, never going beyond walking distance from this house, and I shall die here, I dare say, unless it falls to pieces about our ears, as I am always ex pecting it will.' ' I should think you hoped it would, if that is your only chance of escape.

Why, you are like an enchanted princess waiting for your castle to fall into ruins and set you free ! Some fairy-godmother ought to come along and carry you off and show you all the wonders of the world ! I quite envy you, Miss Grey,' he added more seriously ; ' you have everything still to see.' But all this time the tart, for such it was, had been progressing rapidly, and was now transferred to the oven. The girl rose, flushed into new life and beauty by the heat of the fire, just as Patty returned, saying : ' Master will see the gentleman at once, and will Miss Helen please come as soon as she can.' The young man followed his little conductress through the dining-room, or ' middle-room,' as it was called, into the small front parlour, which he had already inspected on the sly, and Helen washed her hands, turned down her sleeves, laid a^side her apron and followed him.

When she entered the room Mr. Grey and his visitor had already made friends. The old man sat in a large easy-chair, the young one standing before him. ' Come here, Nell,' said her father ; ' come here, my dear, and shake hands with the son of one of my oldest and best friends.' She complied at once. How slight she was, how pale, and how fragile ! What a tiny, nervous hand, too 1 Aubrey had noticed the beauty and delicacy of these little hands, as they deftly rolled and turned and cut the pastry while he was watching her in the kitchen. Mr. Grey went on : ' So your father called you " Allan," did he? I had forgotten that. Yet I remember you well, a blue-eyed, sunny-haired, mischievous youngster of about five, I suppose how old are you, eh ?' ' Five-and-twenty,' Aubrey replied. ' Five-and-twenty.

Ah yes — twenty years since ! So they called you " Allan." Why was that ? Your father's name is " Henry "? ' ' I don't know,' said the young man, smihng again. ' I think it was my mother's fancy.' ' Well, and where are you staying, eh ? Can't offer to take you in. No — cottage too small. We're poor folks, you know — very poor. There was a time, many years ago — well, nevermind, never mind ; that's all over long ago.' ' I'm putting up at the inn ; it's a poor place, but delightfully clean, and they make me comfortable. I have an introduction to the Rector also.' ' The Rector !' The old man began to show a little more animation ; he raised himself, sat up, and looked at his visitor with keen gray eyes from beneath shaggy eyebrows, white as snow. ' Yes ; my father and he were old college chums. ' ' Ha, ha !

Old college chums, were they ? Not much in common between them, I should say.' ' Not very much now ; but my father has not forgotten his early liking.' ' No, no, of course. So they were friends, were they ? Ah! I've heard him preach— once — twice — many times — years ago. A poor tool, sir ; a good man, but narrow minded ; a kind heart, but a pigmy's intellect ! Their brains must not outgrow their hats, sir, and these they tell me are worn very flat nowadays. Ha, ha, ha !' and he gave a little senile chuckle at his own poor attempt at wit. Then, relapsing into his former dreamy manner, he went on : 'Ah well, five-and-twenty years — five-and twenty years ! — I knew your father before he married. We were young men then in the pride of youth and strength and hope. He had a first-rate education — was intended for the Church — yes, yes, I remember — re ligious scruples — enthusiasm for art — I remember.

So he's a great man now, making fame and money — while I Well, well, never mind. — This is my daughter Helen ; she was born here after all those troubles were over. She's a good girl — a good girl. And you're sketch ing, are you ? Well, you have chosen wisely — the loveliest village in England. Nell can show you some of the beauties of the neighbourhood. I stay at home. I'm too old now — too old and tired. I want rest — only rest — and quiet.' The girl made a sign to Aubrey, and they passed out of the shady7 room together into the brilliant sunshine which flooded the garden — dancing through the bright green boughs as they quivered gently in the soft summer breeze, illuminating even their shadows with bright little flecks of light. 'What a lovely spot!' exclaimed the artist. 'How peaceful, how cosy, how secluded !

After a life of hard work, what more delightful nest could a man find in which to pass the remnant of his days ! Here he might rest, " The world forgetting ' "By the world forgot," 'she interrupted, with that slight thrill of bitterness he had noticed before in her voice. ' You are right. Twenty years ago my father was known and honoured by all the foremost men of his time. Who now thinks of his living grave ?' She looked back through the open doorway. The old man had sunk down again into his chair, his long white hair lying over the cushions ; then she turned to her companion : her eyes were glistening with tears. ' You see,' she said, ' how he is. At times he remem bers quite well; he had not forgotten your father; he even recollected you as a child ; but yet, after his sleep, perhaps he won't know anything about your visit.

He seldom quite loses the memory of the past. He lives in that ; but he has no present. Sometimes past and present are both gone ; it is as if his brain got tired and refused to act.' ' Is he well? — in health I mean,' Aubrey inquired. ' Quite, at present ; but in the winter he suffers badly from chronic bronchitis. You see, we can have no visitors, he is not strong enough. A few years ago it would have been different ; but now, seeing you for even this short time has been so great an effort to him that he will probably be quite tired out, and unable to think or do anything more for the rest of the day.' ' But you — what friends and companions have you?' ' None,' was the quick rejoinder, with that same sharp close of the lips. He was filled with compassion for this young fragile creature, living a life so isolated from all healthy, happy, youthful companionship.

He wanted to ask fifty questions, but knew not how to begin ; then, a happy thought striking him suddenly, he asked if he might make a little sketch of the cottage and the quaint old trees which gave it its name : ' For,' said he, ' my father will be so interested in the place where his old friend lives.' Seeing that she hesi tated, he added : ' I could come and sit quietly in the garden without disturbing Mr. Grey, surely ?' After some further persuasion she gave a reluctant consent. ' What a lovely village this is !' he went on enthusias tically ; ' the Rectory is beautiful, too — a perfect picture of comfort and repose. The grandeur of the surrounding scenery ought to make up in a great measure for the monotony of your lives.' ' It isn't always summer, though,' said the girl with the nearest approach to a smile he had yet seen on her face.

He laughed in return ; he was pleased to see how much more friendly she was gradually becoming. ' No, and it rains a good deal down here, I believe ; that is the other side of the picture. Think how different it would be to live in a dusty, grimy, street, with tall, straight, ugly houses in front of, and, indeed, all around you — all exactly alike, only differing in their various degrees of dirtiness or the colour of the blinds in the windows ; houses all stairs inside, the rooms piled one on top of the other. Behind them is generally something called by courtesy " a garden" — perhaps there is a tall tree, making the back rooms extra dark and dull, and there is sure to be a bit of straggling ivy, and, perhaps, a few common ferns ; but beware of touching them. The sweep is the only person who may venture to do that with impunity.' ' What I should like,' she said, ' would be to get out of sight of a tree, to walk on something different from grass or red mud, to see the people, the crowds of people — men, women, and children, too busy thinking of themselves and their own affairs to care to pry into yours.

I should like to talk to them, to find out if they really are as different as they look. Here all the people are just alike ; they talk about the same things and do the same things, and think in the same way about everything — they are all of one pattern ! But in the great, wide world, surely there must be many pat terns.' He could hardly help smiling at her eagerness. ' Perhaps,' she continued, without waiting for a reply, ' strictly speaking, I ought to say we have two patterns. One is a large, stiffly-drawn, strictly conventional design — the well-to-do, the well-educated. " We know every thing — we must be right ; anything we don't know must be wrong, somehow. We will be very kind to the inferior order; but it must bow down to us, must own our immense superiority, and be duly grateful for our con descension in recognising and directing its existence."

And then the other pattern is small and undecided ; it dare not assume any particular individuality lest its superiors may think it presumptuous — it is content to grovel, and in everything to aceept the dictates of the higher power. The passion with which she gave vent to her long pent-up bitterness astonished the young artist. ' Yet up there at the Rectory I saw something I thought looked far from conventional, but more like a beautiful English rose — full, sweet, and blooming.' ' Ah ! they are doing their best to prune and pull even that into the orthodox design. It grows too freely in its youthful vigour ; it will soon learn to restrain itself.' ' I wonder,' he said, with some diffidence, after a short pause, during which they had reached the garden gate — ' I wonder that you two girls are not great friends.

You must be just about the same age, you are called by almost the same name. Living so near to each other, and in such a small circle of acquaintances, it seems to me you ought to be as thick as — anything.' ' We are not in the same circle, Mr. Aubrey; my father and I cannot conform ourselves to either pattern, you see. We haven't the same name either, really ; she is "Eleanor," and I am "Helen."' After a moment she added more gently : ' I believe Nellie Harvey did want to make friends with me at one time ; that was one of the generous impulses that had to be pruned off.' Aubrey was outside the gate now, and she had closed it between them, but he still lingered. There was a sudden clatter of horses' hoofs, and a man and a girl, both on horseback, trotted sharply past. The girl shook the hand in which she held her riding-whip gaily towards the pair standing by the little shabby gate ; there was no mistaking the Rector's beautiful daughter.