They Twain

Chapter I

:' Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where most it promises." All's well thai ends well. It was a cold drizzling afternoon, early in February; the hour half-past four,when the down train was due at Bogchurch. The little railway station which lay on the outskirts of the straggling village looked dreary enough in the dim light of the winter's day, and the wind blew so keenly through the cutting, that the few passengers who were waiting to take the train were huddled together under a shed, called by courtesy a waiting-room, and the platform was deserted. Several minutes elapsed, the time was now 4.39, and the train already over due, when a faint click told the listeners that it was signalled. No one seemed annoyed or surprised, in fact, the trains were usually over due at Bogchurch, but as the inhabitants were seldom in a hurry, B no one was troubled by the unpunctuality, though to a stranger, it was commented on as a remarkable coincidence.

Suddenly a bell rang, the passengers, labouring men, emerged from the shelter of the afore mentioned shed, and the down train rumbled slowly into the station. The solitary porter chanted " Bogchurch ! Bogchurch ! " but nothing followed for a few seconds, and the guard seemed about to give the signal to start again, when a first-class carriage door was violently burst open, and a tall man descended, followed by a short woman. The porter was quite startled at such an un usual sight, but his surprise became pleasure, as the gentleman addressed him by name. " Back again, you see, Tim ! Is the cart there?" " Yes, sir. Any luggage, sir 1 * " Two portmanteaux, that's all;" then turning to his companion, he said, " now, Rosamond, we shall soon be home. The train was unaccount ably late to-day, but the mare will take us along at a good pace, and the tea-cake will not be cold by the time we reach the farm."

Rosamond made no reply, but followed her husband across the line, and stood silent while he spoke to the boy who held the horse, to the station master who came up to greet him, and finally, the mare herself, talking in as cheery a voice as if it were the loveliest of June evenings, and he had just come out for a stroll ; while she felt keenly the influence of the weather, and the fatigue of the long journey. " There ! that will balance all right ! Jump np, Rosamond. Why, httle woman, your feet are yards off the ground ; you must have the rugs for a hassock. Now wrap the cloak well round you, and never mind the umbrella, it will be no good in this wind. There ! All right? Let her go, Ephraim," and off they drove. The cheery traveller was James Marsh, of Hogmarsh Farm, who at the age of eight and twenty had just married, and was bringing his bride home after a brief honeymoon, spent in the south of France.

His heart was burning within him in the orthodox manner, as he returned from " wan dering on a foreign strand," where, truth to tell, b z he had felt very British and uncomfortable, and his love for the little wife at his side was true and deep, and rendered him impervious to de pressions of atmosphere. Of course, neither weather nor landscape, such as the present, were new to him ; his family had lived for generations at Hogmarsh, all his childhood and holiday life had been spent there, and it was with feelings of pride that he now for the first time brought his wife to the place that was so dear to him. To Rosamond, however, everything was strange, and she thought unpleasant, ever since she had set foot on the steamboat at Calais. She was the second daughter of a large family, had felt very flattered when she received an offer of marriage before her elder sister, and in the bustle of her short engagement and subse quent marriage, had had little time to think of the realities of life.

During the honeymoon she had thoroughly enjoyed the importance of being Mrs. Marsh, of Hogmarsh (Farm suppressed), and in a rapid intimacy made with inmates of the Hotel where they were staying, she had indulged in various imaginary accounts of her new home and sur roundings, till, by constant repetition, she had come to believe them. Imagine then her feelings of disappointment when she alighted at Bogchurch, to find that the decorated station, obsequious officials, and pretty pony carriage driven by a liveried groom, which graced her imaginary arrival, were ex changed for the greetings of one rustic porter, and a wayside station, unadorned save by several new mud puddles. Poor Rosamond ! She was tired and cold, and the dreariness of the scene added so greatly to her feelings and discomfort, that she could not refrain from assisting the prevailing dampness, by shedding a few tears as she was swept along through the fast gathering darkness by Jim's fast-trotting mare.

Had she been able to see much of the country, it would not have raised her spirits, though it possessed the charm of novelty to her eyes. It was flat, very flat ; field after field stretched away its level surface, broken by very few trees, till it became one vast plain of marsh, and at last dissolved into the river. How the wind whistled across those unshel tered fields ! The road wound in and out, and one seemed to travel a needless number of miles to reach a point that appeared quite close at first. Fortunately Rosamond could not see this ; she drew her cloak round her, and made only inarticulate replies to Jim's remarks, which reached her in jerks, or were blown away into the darkness by gusts of wind. Once or twice they passed a labourer trudging through the mud, but no houses were visible, and on they drove for endless miles, till Rosamond felt she should never be able to return to civilized life again.

At last Jim shouted — " Here we are ! Do you see the farm, wife ? " " Wife " saw nothing but a mass of increasing blackness, however, till on turning an apparently awkward corner, the cart came to a standstill before an open doorway in which stood a stout, elderly woman, who at once addressed them— " Well, I am pleased to see you again, Mr. Jim ; things never go so well without the master, and it's been lonely, too." " I am very glad to see you, Mary Ann, and my own home," returned Jim. " Mind, Rosie, I'll lift you down. Here is Mrs. Marsh, Mary Ann ; and this is my old nursemaid, Rosamond." Mary Ann dropped an old-fashioned curtsey, saying — "You're welcome, ma'am, I'm sure, for Mr. James' sake," and then held out her hand and shook that of her new mistress, who did not feel prepared for such conduct, and took it rather frigidly.

" The mare brought us beautifully — only forty minutes from Bogchurch, and she's as fresh as paint. Take her round, Ephraim, and then bring in the trunks the back way. Hullo, Mary Ann! what have you done to the hall ? " was the master's exclamation, as he led his wife in, and found boxes filling the greater part of the space. " It's the mistress's things, sir, and that, but I didn't like to unpack nothing till Mrs. James come herself." " All right ! That'll be a nice amusement for you to-morrow, Rosie. Come up now and get your things off. Is tea nearly ready ? " " It's only waitin' for you to give the word, Mr. Jim ; I thought you'd like it early to-night." "Early," thought Rosamond, "it must be nearly six o'clock." Jim took her upstairs, along a short passage, then down a step, and she found herself in her bedroom.

How often she had pictured to herself the elegant lounges and chairs covered with " art cretonne," the handsome brass bedstead, and the Queen Anne tables. Was she again doomed to disappointment ? It was a large, low room, with a long, low window set in an alcove that was almost large enough for a small room itself. The fireplace, with a brightly-burning fire to the right, and a large mahogany bed to the left. The curtains to bed and window, and the cover to one large armchair near the chimney, were (alack, poor Rosamond !) of white dimity, and the dressing table wore a petticoat of the same. Two sd houettes, and (framed in black) a large sampler hung over the high chimney-piece, but the white walls were otherwise bare of anything pictorial. " Now this does look like home," cried Jim. •"Welcome, dear, to Hogmarsh," and putting his arms round his wife, he kissed her fondly.

" In this room your husband was born, my love, and his father and grandfather before him. But I will not begin family histories now, for you must be starving with hunger. Take off your things and come down." Rosamond was glad he did not ask her to admire the ancestral apartment, but she returned his embrace, and hastily throwing off her out door clothing, she said — " Well, I shall -be glad of a cup of tea, I own, to freshen me before dinner." " Dinner, wife ! We have done with your foreign dinners. High tea at Hogmarsh of the good old English kind ; no kickshaws for me." " One need not have foreign dishes," replied Rosamond, " but gentlefolks always dine late." " Then I fear the Marshes have not been gentlefolks for many generations, my dear ; and if you are only half as hungry as I, you will be very glad to join in their vulgarity for this evening, and come down to a substantial tea."

To this Mrs. Marsh made no reply, as she knew it was true, but as she followed Jim, she resolved to have late dinner in future, and to make her husband dress for it in evening clothes, instead of the loose coat and carpet slippers, which were the only alterations he had made in his morning dress. Rosamond could not but own that the dining room looked very cosy. It was long and low, hke all the other rooms, with creamy white walls and ceiling, from which the black rafters pro jected. The furniture and chimney piece were also black and old enough to be " stylish " in the young mistress's eyes ; but the cases of stuffed birds and animals over the doors and sideboard were sadly rustic, and she felt must soon make way for more " artistic " decorations. Jim led her to the head of the table, placed her in the armchair there, and then, regardless of Mary Ann's presence, gave her a hearty kiss, saying — " Do you feel at home, Mrs. Marsh ?

" Rosamond felt very far from home, but she smiled and nodded, and began to pour out tea,. while Jim went to his seat to carve a large joint of hot roast beef (" The Sunday joint as I kept, this being Monday," Mary Ann informed them). There were buttered muffins to be eaten with the beef, and the table was further graced with a large cake, two sorts of preserve, and a dish of custard, prepared expressly to do honour to the bride. Everything was different from what Rosamond had imagined, but she was too hungry to cavil at the food, and enjoyed her tea, in spite of the unsophisticated manners of their waitress, who pressed her to partake of this and that, and freely talked to Jim about the farm doings, telling him of all that had taken place during his absence, both on the homestead and in the parish.

Tea over, Jim said — " Now come and see your parlour, Rosamond," and as soon as the door closed after them, he added — " Mary Ann is more a friend than a servant now-a-days, so you must not be shocked at her freedom with us ; it comes from love, not disrespect." " I certainly was surprised that you allowed her to talk while waiting,"! said Rosamond, "but I dare say she is a very nice woman, though she cannot be my parlourmaid," she added mentally. The parlour, as Jim called it, was another of Rosamond's disappointments, as far as she could see it in the light of the candle Jim held. She caught sight of a stiff arrangement of chairs encircling a round table, and then not wishing to make Jim feel she thought it hideous, when he was showing it with such pride, she said, vaguely — " Yes, [ see ; but it is very cold.

We are not going to sit here this evening, I suppose ? " " No ; my den is ready for us. Come along, you can look at all this to-morrow, and arrange your presents ; we can unpack a case now, if you like." They returned to the hall, pushed past the boxes, and stepped down into Jim's den, which was just within the front door — a small brown room, nearly filled with books, with a solid looking desk and revolving chair in the window, and two easy ones by the fireplace. " Now, I will just fetch a hammer, and then undo whatever case you choose. What do you want first % " " I don't know which is which," said Rosamond ; " you'd better attack the first that comes to hand." Jim obeyed, and the next three hours was spent in fitting the httle room with knick-knacks of every kind, most of them wedding presents.

When the hall " grandfather's clock " struck ten, Jim ceased work, saying — " It's just prayer time. I will clear up this straw and paper, and you must wait till to morrow to put up the things." " Oh ! wait a minute ; I do so want to see if my lovely plush frames are in the next box ! " But as she spoke, Mary Ann appeared, and announced " prayers, sir," as if it were a fresh meal, and throwing down his boots, Jim marched off to their dining room, reluctantly followed by his wife, who was unaccustomed to this cere mony in her old home A mighty Bible, bound in brown leather, lay on the table, and a small red prayer-book beside it. Jim seated himself before them, Rosamond took a chair near the fire, and the four maids filed in. A chapter in the Old Testament was read, then three or four prayers, and the grace ; after which all rose, and with a respectful "good night, ma'am, good-night, sir," the servants vanished, all except Mary Ann, who stayed to remove the books, and ask if breakfast would be at the usual hour.

" Well, not to-morrow ; the mistress is tired after her journey ; we'll put it late for once, eh, Rosie ? Very well, half-past eight to-morrow." " Why, Jim," with dismay, as Mary Ann went away, " what is your usual hour ? " " Eight in winter, and half-past seven in summer ; you see I have to go out early, and it makes me hungry. But if you are too tired, dear, don't you get up at all ; I'll bring up yours." Rosamond declined her husband's offer, but as she undressed for the first time in her new home, she thought that her marriage would be no existence of luxurious importance as she had pictured, but a life full of petty disagreeables, with apparently nothing to look forward to but the approbation and comfort of a very un romantic, unambitious, commonplace husband.

Chapter II

"What's in a Name." Romeo <L- Juliet. It was no wonder that Rosamond was de pressed and disappointed at her introduction to her new life. From her earliest recollection she had hved within a few mdes of London, one of a large famdy, and surrounded by many neighbours. Her father, a hard-working man, was occupied in town all day, while her no less hard-working mother tried to bring up her ten children, and make both ends of the scanty income meet at home. Mr. and Mrs. Bosworth had striven to give the two elder girls, Maud and Rosamond, a good education, but Maud was too useful in the nursery, and Rosamond too fond of pleasure to profit by ■ the somewhat fitful instruction im parted by a dafly governess. Of late years a High School had been established in the neighbourhood, which the younger girls attended, but it was no light task to provide the necessary fees and books, and when the rector's nephew began to make frequent visits, and finally proposed marriage to their pretty Rosamond, the parents experienced an actual sense of relief in having one of ten taken off their hands.

Rosamond received no motherly counsel about her future, only congratulations for having secured a home. The engagement was cut as short as the provision of a very modest home made outfit would allow, and in less than four months from the proposal, James and Rosamond were man and wife. After the honeymoon Mrs. Marsh hoped to pay a visit to her parents, and enjoy the impor tance of wifehood ; but James was anxious to get back to his farm, and Mrs. Bosworth wrote, that " as all the chddren were back at school, and Maud very busy with their underclothes, perhaps dear Rosamond had better postpone her visit till the Spring." So that was her first disappointment, and she was cut off from the old life, while the new was yet untried and unknown. Still Rosamond Marsh was only twenty-one, and though "heaviness may endure for a night, joy cometh in the morning," at that age, she was full of happiness as she went down to breakfast the morning after her arrival at Hogmarsh.

Jim had gone out at 7-30, and Rosamond walked to the window to watch for his return. It was dull weather, but the rain had ceased, and one could see a long stretch of landscape ; flat meadows divided by ditches, and with little gates placed apparently at random across them. To the left, and close to the house, lay the farm buildings full in view ; indeed, the gate of the fold yard was at right angles to the window, and it was with great disgust that Rosamond saw within a large party of pigs enjoying their breakfast, which, oh horror ! Jim himself appeared to be superintending. A very different view, this, to the neat little garden, about three yards square, opening on the suburban road in front of " Laburnum Lodge," which had met Rosamond's gaze almost every morning untd now. c With a httle shrug, she turned away to the fireplace, and was trying to decipher the legend carved in old English letters over the chimney piece, when Jim entered.

" So you were not too tired to get up ? Feel rested ? Let's have prayers at once, for I want my breakfast," and he rang the bell. " We never had prayers at home, Jim," said his wife, in a tone of mild remonstrance. " Didn't you ? Well, dear, you see you could go to church whenever you liked, but here we have to do most of it at home. I shouldn't know myself without the old prayers." Rosamond could not but feel proud of her stalwart young husband as he sat reading aloud the chapter, much as she disliked his costume — an old suit of dittos, concluded by brown leather gaiters, and big, hob-nailed boots — not at all fit for a gentleman, nevertheless becoming, and she could not but see that the close-cropped fair head, and ruddy, clean-shaven face had never looked to better advantage, even when it surmounted a well-fitting dress suit, and patent leather pumps.

Prayers concluded, Mr. and Mrs. Marsh began their breakfast. " We will arrange our things to-day, won't we, Jim ? " said Rosamond, giving him his first cup. " Oh ! I leave all that to you, dear. I am very busy to-day, and I am sure to like your arrangement." " But there is no fun in doing it alone." " Mary Ann will help you, and she wdl enjoy seeing all our presents. Yes, you have Mary Ann ; she'U do all you want." " But I can't discuss plans with a servant, and I want your opinion." " Well, I shall come in for dinner, and then I wdl tell you what I think of your morning's work ; I can do it much better than if I heard your plans beforehand." " Dinner, Jim ! luncheon you mean. We must dine late to-day." " I know you fancy folks cannot exist without late dinner, but I think, dear wife, we'll try high tea for a month, and then if you still wish for late dinner, of course we will have it, but I expect you will prefer tea."

Jim said this very pleasantly, but Rosamond saw she could not work this desirable change c for the present. She changed the subject. " I suppose this house is very old ? What is its name ? " " Yes, it is one of Stephen Langton's manors. There is a notion that Odo of Bayeux lived here, but that is impossible." " Why ? " " Because it is obviously thirteenth century work." " I don't see what that matters." " Well, nor do I, dear, except that Odo had turned up his toes to the daisies rather before that date. Oh ! Rosie ! what would your small sister Clara say if she heard you 1 " " She's always very pert to her elders," returned Rosamond sharply, for she had just discovered that Jim was laughing at some blunder she had made, though she did not know what it was, " What is this house called, did you say ?

" she added quickly, to get on safe ground. " Hogmarsh Farm ; surely you have heard that before % " " I thought Hogmarsh was the parish. It is a hideous name, and sounds as if you are all pigs here." " Why, didn't you know," said Jim gravely, " that it took its name from the fine hogs raised on my farm % " " No, did it, really ? How horrid ! Then lets change it at once. I never mean to live in a hogmarsh." " My poor dear, you have married a hog, and have therefore become a sow yourself, and it is too late to think of a change." " Jim," exclaimed Rosamond crossly, " you say horrid vulgar things. Be a hog if you hke it ; I won't, and I shall change the name ! " Jim looked at his wife's flushed face for a minute, then rose, and without speaking, left the room. " Now," thought Rosamond, " he's cross ; well, he shouldn't say nasty things — he can't expect me to bear them."

She had not time to rise before her husband returned, bringing a large book bound in calf. Placing it open before her, he kissed her, saying — " Poor little wife, it was a shame to tease her, Read this," and he pointed to the exposed page, where Rosamond read : — ' The Parish of Hogmarsh, or Houghmarish, originally part of the vast estate granted to Odo Bishop, of Bayeux, was anciently known as Hohmersc (Saxon hoh, a heel, and mersc, a marsh or fen) and by this name is mentioned in the Doomsday Book, where it is stated that one farm alone was valued at the large sum, etc., etc' " So you see," said Jim, "that the terrible name is most respectable, not to say reverend, from its antiquity, and must be respected accordingly." " No doubt it is very old, but it is also A-ery ugly, and sounds like pigs, whether it means heels or not," returned Rosamond, witn a pout.

Jim laughed, kissed her again, and then hastily finishing his toast, " supposed he must be off." " Take care of yourself, wife, make the rooms look very pretty, and order a nice dinner," he said, and departed.

Chapter III

'' No neighbours, but a few simple clowns, Honest and true, and a well-meaning priest." (Row's Jane Shore.) Left to herself, Rosamond prepared to examine her domain, with a view to improvements, but this intention was frustrated by Mary Ann, who requested her to take the keys and hsts of the store, linen closets, and give orders to the cook. Mrs. Marsh longed to tell the faithful servant that she might continue housekeeper, but she knew her mother and Maud had always at tended to these matters, and the desire to play the mistress overcame her reluctance to face strangers. She followed Mary Ann into the large kitchen, which opened into the larger scudery, and this again into larder, dairy, store room, etc. Rosamond felt quite bewildered in such spacious offices, was shy in talking to the two maids, who were hard at work in them, and when they asked for orders, found herself so ignorant, that Mary Ann's kindly suggestions were most welcome, and she at once decided mentally that she should not part with the old friend quite as soon as she had meant.

Leaving the cook to cut up and dispose of a freshly kdled sheep and pig as she thought best, Rosamond hastened to overlook the linen and china lists, heard with thankfulness that " Mr. Marsh always kept his sdver and cellar himself," and meekly gave out what stores Mary Ann requested. It was half-past ten when she was at last set free, and then she ran into the drawing room, and banging the door behind her, executed a pas seul among the stiffly arranged chairs and tables, to give vent to her feelings of relief that housekeeping was over for that day at least. This revolution of herself over, the mistress caused another to commence among the furniture. The place of every article was altered many times, then the wedding knick-knacks were brought in, and placed in every available spot, till the room looked hke a fancy fair, and the shades of the prim foremothers of Hogmarsh Farm must have shuddered at the sight.

It was a long process, but the dressing-bell found Rosamond flushed and triumphant over her improvements, and she toiled up to her bedroom laden with pictures, brackets and ornaments, preparatory to effecting similar alterations there in the course of the afternoon. As soon as Jim's step was heard, down ran his wife to show him what she had done ; but he was beforehand with her, and she found him standing in the drawing-room doorway, silently regarding her handiwork. " Well, Jim, aren't you pleased ? Haven't I done a lot ? and the room looks four times as well. I just want you to nad up the black bracket, and two little mirrors, and then it will be done." Jim turned, and putting his arm round her waist, walked forward with her in the room. " Yes, dear, you have done a great deal ; I should hardly know the old room.

I don't know that it is quite my taste, but if you like it I am content. What have you done with mother's old work table ? Over by the window ? Yes ; I should be very sorry to miss that." " Why, Jim, it's very old-fashioned, and the silk bag is quite faded. I poked it away and put my nice basket near the fire instead." " Quite right, Rosie ; only I didn't like to miss my old friend, though I have a new one. It wdl look very jolly to see you in mother's chair, working by the new basket." Jim turned away to " brush up " for dinner, and Rosamond felt that though he had not said one word of disapproval, he was not quite as pleased with her alterations as was his wife. After dinner, he put up the mirrors for her, and made one or two suggestions about orna ments, which Rosamond graciously accepted, and then walked out again, leaving her to continue her labours in the bedroom.

Rosamond took down the sampler and silhouettes, and then the wads being clear, hung up her own photographs of sacred subjects, and placed her other home trifles on chimney piece and brackets. It was quicker work than the drawing-room and did not afford her so much satisfaction ; but Jim praised it highly — said the room had always needed pictures, that as his dressing-room was bare, he would take pity on the discarded portraits, and carried away both silhouettes and sampler. Mrs. Marsh felt she had spent a profitable day as she sat down to that obnoxious high tea, and she chattered gaily during the meal. " You see, Jim, I was anxious to get the drawing-room ready for visitors. I suppose people will call directly, won't they ? " " Directly they have seen you in church they will come, but till then they wiU not know we have come home, unless the postman should tell them."

" Who will there be, Jim 1 Any one par ticularly nice ? " " Oh, yes ; they are all nice folks in Hog marsh. Let me see, the vicar, Dr. Prothero. He's a clever old chap — always writing books and poking after insects. I'm fond of him." " That's not what I call nice at all," cried Rosamond, dismayed. " Has he no wife or children ? " " No ; he's a widower. There's one daughter, rather a silly girl ; but then she's an only daughter, and spoilt. She is very fond of going about, and does not attend much to the parish. I fancy, though, I have seen her at the school treat with the Ladies Marshland." " Who are the Ladies Marshland ? Will they call 1 " asked Rosamond, fluttering with pleasure at the prospect of titled acquaintance. " They are Lord Barthorpe's daughters — only little girls. He lives at Hogland Park, and is our Lord of the Manor, when he's at home, which he seldom is, for Lady Barthorpe likes London.