Esther West : a story

Front matter

Frontispiece. Polly (p. 52). Esther West. 31 SfOCT?. BY ISA CRAIG-KNOX. CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited: LONDON, PARIS Ji NEW YORK. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. — Esther the Queen ...... i II. — A Life's History ..... 8 III. — The Game Begins ...... 16 IV. — Out of the Game ..... 23 V. — Timothy Wiggett . . . . . 32 VI. — The Old Love ...... 40 VII. — The Inevitable . . . . - . .47 VIII. — A Respite ...... 54 IX. — An Unexpected Guest . .... 60 X. — Likes and Dislikes ..... 66 XI. — A Morning Adventure . . . .' . 71 XII. — An Evening at Homf, ..... 76 XIII.— The Truth Comes Out . . . . .83 XIV. — Father and Daughter .... 92 XV. — Third Class ....... 100 XVI. — Connie's Friend ...... 107 XVII.— At Home . . . . . . .113 XVIII. — Vigils ; . . . . . .122 XIX.— Philip— Evangelist. . . . . .128 XX. — Struck Down ...... 137 XXI. — The Broken Ladder ..... 143 XXII. — Prudence and Flirtation .... 151 XXIII. — Night Watches ...... 159 XXIV. — Philip's Story ...... 163 ■ XXV. — A Defeated Life . . . . . .167 XXVI.— A Consoler ...... 174 XXVII. — Esther's Choice ...... 180 XXVIII.— Settled ....... 189 XXIX. — Re-considered ......

CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XXX.— The Friend? . . . . . .204 XXXI.-Esther Dropped . . . . • .211 XXXII.— The Years ...... 219 XXXIII.— At Home . . . . . . .227 XXX IV. —A Bad Business ...... 234 XXXV.— Street Lamps . . . . . .240 XXXVI.— An Accident ...... 245 XXXVII.— Philip's Hurt . . . . . -253 XXXVIII.— In the Hospital ..... 259 XXXIX. — Timothy's Trouble. ..... 265 XL— A Discussion ..... 273 XLI. — Tactics Triumphant ..... 279 XLII. — Snowdrops ...... 284 XLIII.— Drifting Apart ...... 290 XLIV. — Separation ...... 296 XLV. — The Meaning of Poverty .... 303 XLVI. — March Buds ...... 310 XLVII. — No Answer .... . 316 XLVIII. — To Gravesend ...... 323 XLIX. — The Guide-book ...... 330 L.— Too Late ...... 336 LI.— Bad Tidings ....... 344 LI I. — Love and Loss ...... 351 LIII. — Turned Back ...... 358 LIV. — Peace after Storm . . . . . 363 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Polly ....... To/ace Title. "There was a great buying of lace for the brides" „ 200 " Kate had softened even to tears over her little nephew " . . . . . . . ,, 228 "The sound that greeted her was an unmistakable sob" ,,

Chapter I. Esther The Queen

Jjf|$ffji|?URST COMMON was glowing in the golden je nAl yj afternoon. It was thickly set with furze, which J W^J 7) was in full bloom. At a little distance, it seemed ■t&(eP<j»«J a field of black embossed with gold. Through the midst of it ran a broad green path, at one end of which, built upon a yellow sand-hill, stood a lonely house called "The Cedars," while at the other was the village of Hurst. It was only two hours after noon, and the light that lay on the landscape had only gained in vividness from the touch of shade laid on here and there. But the low furze bushes cast no shade on that belt of shining green, soft as velvet, and elastic beneath the pressure of the feet. There was a pool at the village end, flashing like a mirror, and a flock of geese had risen from its margin, and, led by a mother goose of most goose-like solemnity, proceeded up the path, as if out for a constitutional.

From the other end advanced a young girl — a figure on which the light rested lovingly, as it rests on a water-lily. There was something singularly pure and cool about Esther West : and yet she was no slender reed of a girl, but a tall is and stately maiden, of ample proportions and perfect health. Perhaps it was to her proportion of face and figure, and also to a certain proportion of mind — which gave strength and calmness to all she did and said — that she owed her peculiar charm. I will try and describe her, for I do not hold with those who care not to paint the outward form. There was very little colour about her, yet she was not white. Though I never paint her mentally, but always sculpture her, if I may say so, she was not at all a marbly woman. Pure, tender greys predominated in her face ; she had masses of shady hair, that was neither fair nor dark ; long, lovely eyebrows of the same half-dusky hue, and grey eyes that seemed to swim in light, especially when they laughed.

There was a great deal of shadow in the face ; it was almost pensive in repose, but it lighted up marvellously when the grey eyes sparkled and the perfect nostrils quivered, and the mouth, neither large nor small, but of a gracious sweetness, opened, and yet hardly showed the pearly teeth. Esther West came across the common in a cool dress of some light, shining stuff of silver grey, lightly trimmed with green. The white feather of her hat rested on the dusky hair. The sunshine streamed about her. She seemed to "walk in glory and in joy." Her eyes shone their brightest, as she looked up at the blue above and down at the wealth of golden blossoms at her feet ; her nostrils quivered as she in haled the rich, sweet scent of the furze ; her lips parted, and her whole face beamed with its brightest illumination.

It was as if her young soul smiled back the smile of the Creator. She came up with the flock of geese, who turned tail at her near approach, and waddled off in their ungainly fashion, and with much unreasonable cackling. At the pond they collected in a closer group, stretched their gossiping goose necks, and hissed insanely as she passed — a feat which she rewarded by a happy little laugh. ESTHER THE QUEEN. 3 At this point she passed into the village, which nowhere lormed what could even by courtesy be called a street. It made rather a sort of right angle, one side fronting the com mon, the other the high road. There was an inn. To the mere on-looker it was a mystery how it existed, the place was so quiet and retired. But the sign of "The Maypole" continued to swing in the wind on the grassy edge of the highway; and its owner did not complain of want of custom.

Hurst was, indeed, more populous than it appeared. There were many little houses hidden away up green lanes and in among orchards and gardens ; for Hurst supplied the London market with fruit and vegetables, and throve in its vocation. It boasted also of a shop — " the shop," which was like wise the post-office of the district, both concerns being under the management of Mrs. Moss, though " old Moss," as her husband was called, still overlooked the transactions by means of a little square pane of glass let into the wall, through which he surveyed the world from his chimney-corner in the back parlour, to which he was confined by " rheumatiz " and increasing years. Out of the sunshine into that dark, low-browed little shop went queenly Esther West, radiant and happy, generous, and gracious, and good.

After a cheerful salutation to Mrs. Moss, she produced a letter. It was for the Australian mail, and there was no need to ask about it, for each Australian mail bore a similar missive from the post-office at Hurst to swell the great stream of colonial correspondence. " There's one a waiLin' for you — that is, for your mamma, Miss Esther. I've hardly had time t&. .look at it yet," said Mrs. Moss, wiping her hands on her apron, and proceeding to look over a little bundle of letters. "Joe is just gettin' ready to take the letters round," she added (Joe was her son, and did the tailoring of the village up in his attic, besa sides his letter-carrying), "but maybe ye may like to carry it yourself. It's got the Australian post-mark on't." And she very naively had her look at it before she handed it over to its rightful owner.

Esther took it, hesitating just a little, and turning her face, as she inspected the writing, towards a little woman who stood in a corner, and who had stood back there since Esther entered the shop, with her sharp eyes fixed on the girl's face, and watching her every movement. "Yes; I will take it," she said, after the momentary hesitation; and, with a kindly inquiry for Mr. Moss, she left the little shop, without having once looked in the direction of the small woman in the corner, partly out of pre occupation, partly from good breeding. There is no knowing what will please or what will offend some people. The little woman in the corner, who appeared to be dressed in every colour — not in the rainbow — was evi dently offended that no notice had been taken of her; for as soon as Esther was out of hearing, she gave utterance to her verdict, with a sniff of her sharp nose and a screw of her shrewish little mouth.

"That's a haughty madam." "No, she aint! " shouted the old man from his chimney corner, causing the little woman to start in an irritable manner. The parlour door was left slightly open, and Mr. Moss not only saw but heard all that went on ; for, unlike most old people, his hearing was preternaturally acute. But Mrs. Wiggett, who was a new-comer, and not aware of this peculiarity, took no notice of the interruption. "Who is she ?" sharply interrogated the little woman. " She's an only daughter," replied meek Mrs. Moss. " She's a beauty !" shouted the old man. "Esther West —Queen Esther I call her." " Esther West," repeated Mrs. Wiggett ; and taking up ESTHER THE QUEEN. the letter, she read, " ' Henry West, Esq.' — that's Harry, isn't it ? Is he any relation ?" " They do say," answered Mrs. Moss, " that he's a cousin of Miss Esther, and that he's a comin' home to wed her."

" There might be two Wests, but there can't be two Esthers, and two Harrys, and two Australias," said Mrs. Wiggett, showing herself a great inductive philosopher, and adding, triumphantly, " I know all about them." " Do ye now!" exclaimed Mrs. Moss, with genuine ad miration and curiosity; for not much was known about the Wests in the village, nor did there appear much to be known about a widow lady of good means and good manners, who had led a quiet life there for so many years. Mrs. Moss waited open-mouthed for further information; but it is doubtful if it would have been vouchsafed but for the interference of Mr. Moss, who once more lifted up his voice with, " I'm thinking, missus, ye've little to say about them ; and nothing agin them." Mr. Moss was one of those men who can never help making a fight for the veriest morsel of opinion, and who was always taking sides for or against every one who passed in review before the little square pane through which he contemplated the world.

Little as he had seen of Mrs. Wig gett, he had made up his mind against her. " I'm agin that goody," he had said to his wife : " she's a little wiper, she is. His tone of contradictoriness exasperated Mrs. Wiggett, and she burst out with, "That's all you know; but I come fro' the same place, and know all about them ; and I can tell you " — and her voice rose as her irritation carried her away — " that Miss Esther, as you call her, hasn't any right to the name o' West, no more nor I have." A " Ha ! — ha !" from the back parlour still further excited Mrs. Wiggett ; while Mrs. Moss exclaimed, credulously, " You don't mean for to say that Mrs. West isn't an honest woman ?" " I do mean to say that she could be gaoled or trans ported any day for stealing of an honest man's child. Esther West is no more Esther West than I am ; she's Esther Potter — Martin Potter's first — first often, and two of them twins ; I knew her mother, Mary Potter, as well as I know I." "Take care what you say, missis," was growled from the back parlour; and Mrs. Wiggett's excitement cooled down in a moment.

"You needn't repeat it," she said to Mrs. Moss, in a calmer tone, as she took up several small packets and de parted, bestowing a deprecatory nod on Mr. Moss through the pane. Mr. Moss had suffered a defeat, and was silent, ruminat ing on the strange communication, which somehow carried the stamp of truth. Mrs. Moss had lost all presence of mind to ask the ins and outs of the story, and was speculat ing wildly. As for Mrs. Wiggett, she went up the village shaking in her shoes, and wishing she had bitten her tongue off, rather than have given the reins to that unruly member as she had done. She had reasons of her own, sufficiently strong ones too, for wishing to remain incognito. In the meantime, unconscious Esther, after hesitating another moment outside the shop door- — as if drawn two ways at once — went on in the direction opposite from home, and towards a house on the other side of the village called Redhurst, where she was expected to join in a croquet party that sunny afternoon.

While she was still at some distance from the house, through the wicket-gate which opened into its shrubbery came Constance Vaughan to meet her friend. She had on a hat, but neither cloak nor shawl, and her light dress flut tered as she advanced, with her own eager motion, rather ESTHER THE QUEEN. 7 than with the breeze. The girls met, and kissed each other, and then paused in the midst of the path. " I hardly know whether to go back to mamma, or on to your house," said Esther. " Here is a letter I have just got for her, and I don't like to keep her waiting for it. I knew you were all waiting for me, and I came on with the intention of asking you to begin without me, and going back to her. Will you carry a message for me ? Tell them I shall not be long in going and returning, and explain my absence.

You might take my mallet for a while." They were eager players, and the delay of the game was quite a serious affair. " Couldn't we send a servant over with the letter ? " said Constance. " It's from cousin Harry," said Esther; which seemed quite sufficient to make it understood that it was too sacred to admit of its being entrusted to a servant's hands. " Let's both go together," said eager Constance. " It is not far to ' The Cedars,' and they are sure to begin without us." The girls stood where through the trees, and over the sloping shrubbery, they could be seen by the group assem bled on the elevated lawn of Redhurst, and Constance in sisted on making some telegraphic signals, by holding up the letter, and pointing in the direction of " The Cedars." The trees which gave their name to the house, could be seen from where they stood, stretching their dark, level boughs on the golden sky, the very symbols of rooted calm.

The signals were quite intelligible and satisfactory to her self, and utterly incomprehensible to those to whom they were addressed ; but a white handkerchief waved in reply was taken for a signal of comprehension ; upon which they turned back deliberately, Constance linking her arm in Esther's, and fluttering gaily by her side.

Chapter II

A life's history. HILE they are thus on their way, it may be as well to anticipate any further revelation through the medium of village gossip, and tell the story of Mrs. West's life in a clearer way — a story which, but for one great false step, might have been recorded in fewer words than most. She was an orphan, remembering neither father nor mother, and married in early life to a manufacturer in the north of England. A woman who must have been made timid by the repression of natural affection in childhood and youth, for it was not in her husband's home that she learnt to distrust her power to win and retain the love of others. Her husband idolised her, childless wife as she was. She had more than the ordinary share of intellect, but her Affections were stronger still, quite preponderating over the powers of her mind.

Her tenderness was of the kind which even borders on pain in its intensity. After many years of married life, there came to her the promise of a child, and, even by anticipation, the love of the mother sprang up in her heart, with all the power of loving which charac terised her. Close to the gate of the grounds which separated her large and lonely house from the outer world, stood a pretty cottage, the home of a recently-married pair, which she had often looked at wistfully as she saw the young mother fondle her first-born. When the little thing began to totter about in the porch, or on the small grass-plot in front of the house, the lady would stop to speak to the child and its mother over the low garden gate. But now she lingered longer, and almost trembled with joy to hold the yearling in her arms ; and, seeing her daily, the little mouth was held up freely for kisses, and a very lovely little mouth it was.

The mother of this child had been the village schoolmis tress, and, herself remarkably handsome, had married the handsomest man in the parish, though he was only a brick layer. Neighbours said she might have looked higher, their shades of high and low being of the finest; but Martin Potter was intelligent and ambitious, and they changed their opinion in time. He was a student in his way, and a saver, and when he married he became a small master, and, with his wife still mistress of the school, they seemed prospering exceedingly. Then came the baby, and the mother's health failed for a time, and the school had to be given up, and the schoolhouse with it. But Martin built a pretty cottage for his wife and child, and worked harder for them, and seemed to love them more than ever. A great disappointment awaited Mrs. West: her baby was only born to die.

The little pale blossom fell from the tree of life fruitless, unexpanded. Very slowly the childless mother came back to life and health. When she began once more to pass the gate of her domain, there was little Esther, lovelier than ever, playing in the porch, and her (in Mrs. West's eyes) most happy mother with one infant in her lap and another in a wicker cradle at her feet : Mr. Potter had been presented with twin daughters. At first Mrs. West had to be driven past her humble neighbour's door, with bent head, and clasped hands, and heart aching heavily. She could not have trusted herself to speak; though she blamed herself for every throb of what seemed so like envy, and doubled her pain by being pained because of it. But at length she had the courage to stop her pony-carriage, and step into the cottage ; and, with tears falling into the bosom of the little white bundle in her lap, pour out her sorrow to a sympathising listener.

Mary Potter was beginning to have her troubles too, and expressed a very sincere wish, concerning the twins, that one of them had been Mrs. West's instead of her own. " Not that I would like to part with one now," she corrected ; "but Martin thinks it hard to have two at a time. He thinks he'll never get on at this rate." Thus poor Mary bared her secret hurt. After that, Mrs. West would stop at the cottage door, and take little Esther up for a drive. And from that she got to having her at the house, where she was made much of, amused, and, what is even pleasante.r to a very young child, instructed ; the instruction being confined, however, to the simple use of words. She was not two years old ; and the twins had left no room for her in the mother's arms — had "put her little nose out of joint," to use the common phrase ; therefore it was no wonder that she clung more and more to the gentle lady, who gave her a mother's care, and all the love that she was ready to have lavished on her own.

More and more the unconscious little one was weaned from her mother and her home ; till one day, Martin Potter being employed on some repairs at " The House," Mrs. West made him a proposal to keep the child altogether, and to bring it up in her own home. "You are likely to have a large family "—Martin Potter thought it more than likely— "and you would never miss her; while she would be amply provided for. I have consulted my husband, and I want you to consult your wife before you answer me." " Oh, Martin ! it is hard to part with our own flesh and blood to a stranger, even if she were an angel from heaven," pleaded poor Mary, hugging her twins. Her husband briefly pointed out the advantages to the child herself, and to the whole family. Mr. and Mrs. West might die. They were neither young nor strong, and they would certainly leave a fortune to their adopted child.

But the more advantageous it seemed, the more it seemed to the mother to separate her from h~r child. She was weak and irritable, and not inclined to be reasonable about it. " She's our first," she sobbed ; " and you've never taken to the twins 'as you took to her." She appealed to the father's joy in his first-born. The first and strongest link between them seemed about to be broken ; but when Mary Potter found that nothing prevailed against her husband's resolution, she calmed herself, and said, " Take your own way, Martin ; but, mind, it's against my will." " Take your own way ! " Sad and fatal words for either husband or wife to utter; the way that leads to many a dreary separation. Those whom God hath joined together have no longer right to a way of their own. Slowly but surely, Mary and Martin Potter diverged from that day.

There had come " The little rift within the lute, Which by-and-by shall make the music mute. And, ever widening, slowly silence all." Mary had a little soreness against Mrs. West, but that in time wore away, while the soreness against her husband increased. Mrs. West was very good to Mary, especially when another baby came ; she was good in a way which would have won harder hearts than this young mother's. It was a deprecating way she had. Anybody might have patronised Mrs. West, but she could not have patronised the poorest or feeblest. It was delicate, too. She did not present her humble friend with stout flannel petticoats or serviceable gowns ; all her presents were such as one lady might give to another. She worked for the twins, with her own delicate fingers, dresses of simple material, but dainty form and ornament, such as she would have had her own child wear, and such as she provided for little Esther ; and she contrived, above all, that the mother should see her child every day, except when she was taken away for a few months at a time when they went to the sea for the benefit of Mr. West's health.

They took little Esther away, and they brought her back again more beautiful and blooming than ever, while the twins were weak, and fretful, and ailing. Another daughter had been add'ed to Martin Potter, who felt more aggrieved than ever at the Providence which assigned him the encumbrance of four of the weaker sex. Indeed, he could hardly be got to look upon the face of his fourth daughter. Esther seemed, therefore, wholly given up to her adopted parents; indeed, such had been the com pact between them and Martin Potter, with the proviso that he should see her from time to time, and that he might claim her again if he chose. Another winter drew near, and Mr. West was ordered to the south before it should set in. Mary Potter, expecting another baby, bade good-bye to little Esther without much concern, while Martin, keeping still better to his bargain, hardly noticed the child at all ; but then he had borrowed money from Mr. West lately, who had said to his wife on the occasion, " My darling, I fear that man will be a trouble to us some day."

They stayed throughout the winter and the long, cold spring at Ventnor; but before the latter season was over Mr. West was too ill to be moved. Periodically Mrs. West wrote to the Potters concerning their child, and received at equal intervals a letter from Mary. Number five had turned out a boy; " but," wrote poor Mary, " nothing will please him (her husband), for the business seems going wrong." And Mrs. West sent the boy a handsome sum of money as a gift from his sister Esther, in answer to the intimation. Just before the summer, Mr. West died, leaving all that he possessed to his wife, and after his wife to the son of an only brother in Australia. The will had been made, according to their mutual wish, years before the adoption of Esther, and had remained unaltered. "You will take care of the little one," the dying man had said, for he had come to be as fond of Esther as his wife was.

I fear you will find it a hard task to keep her, and I don't quite like Martin Potter, but it would be cruel to give her up now." Give her up ! Mrs. West would have given up most things in this life — after her husband's death, life itself — - rather than have given up the clasp of those chubby arms, the kiss of those pretty lips, the love of that warm little heart. Then came the great temptation to which she yielded. The Potters left the place where they had lived so many years for a neighbouring town, where small building specu lations were rife. Mrs. West sold her house and furniture through an agent, and thus broke the tie with it at the same time. Still she remained at Ventnor, but poor Mary grew remiss in writing, and after a longer interval than usual, the fatal step was taken — fatal, at least, to the peace of poor Mrs. West.

She removed from the Isle of Wight, and came into the neighbourhood of London, without communi cating to the Potters her change of address. Her late husband's nephew and heir had been sent to England for education, and she gave to herself the reason that she desired to make a home for him during his stay. By this, also, she accounted to herself for her frequent changes of residence. She was always finding out a better school for Harry. After three years, the young Australian was re called, having spent a year at three different schools. He was a bright, handsome, fair-haired, restless boy, and, to do Mrs. West justice, the frequent changes were as much his fault as hers. He needed a discipline far firmer than any she could enforce to repress his erratic tendencies ; but he learnt so rapidly and retentively, that what would have hindered the progress of most lads only seemed to favour his, and everybody seemed satisfied with the result.

Little Esther was Harry's playfellow, or rather plaything, during those years. He alternately loved her and broke her child heart by his neglect ; but then he was her senior by six years, and it was not to be expected that a boy could make a companion of a mere baby of a girl. So the only memories cherished of Harry by Mrs. West and Esther were pleasant and happy ones. Finally, Mrs. West — all trace of the Potters lost — had settled at Hurst, and Esther had grown up, knowing no thing of her origin, and loving her whom she called mother with an undivided love. Her memory carried her back to Harry, and to many a little incident of his stay with them, and especially to the day of his departure. It had been a tradition of her childish days that he was to come back and marry her when he grew a man ; and though it was a long time since any one had reminded her of it, she still remembered the promise and the day when it was made : the great ship, and being lifted down into a little boat, and stretching out her arms towards Harry, standing waving his cap round his sunny head, and laughing at her tears and terrors.