Reaping the Whirlwind. A novel

Front matter

In 1 vol. Price 12s. ON CHANGE OF CLIMATE, A GUIDE FOK TRAVELLERS IN PURSUIT OF HEALTH. By THOMAS MOKE MADDEN, M.D., M.R.C.S. Eng. Illustrative of the Advantages of the various localities resorted to by Invalids, for the cure or alleviation of chronic diseases, especially consumption. With Observations on Climate, and its Influence on Health and Disease, the result of extensive personal experience of many Southern Climes. SPAIN, PORTUGAL, ALGERIA, MOROCCO, FRANCE, ITALY, THE MEDITERRANEAN ISLANDS, EGYPT, &c. " Dr. Madden has been to most of the places he describes, and his book contains the advantage of a guide, with the personal experience of a traveller. To persons who have determined that they ought to have change of climate, we can recommend Dr. Madden as a guide. — Athenæum." " It contains much valuable information respecting various favorite places of resort, and is evidently the work of a well-informed physician. — Lancet." - " Dr. Madden's book deserves confidence— a most accurate and excel lent work." — Dublin Medical Review.

" It cannot but be of much service to such persons as propose leaving home in search of recreation, or a more benign atmosphere. The Doctor's observations relate to the favourite haunts of English invalids. He criticises each place seriatim in every point of view." — Reader. " We strongly advise all those who are going abroad for health's sake to provide themselves with this book. They will find the author in these pages an agreeable gossiping companion as well as a professional adviser, who anticipates most of their difficulties." — Dublin Evening Mail. " To the medical profession this book will be invaluable, and to those in ill-health it will be even more desirable, for it will be found not merely a guide for change of climate, but a most interesting volume cf travel." — Globe. " Dr. Madden is better qualified to give an opinion as to the salubrity of the places most frequented by invalids than the majority of writers on the subject." — Liverpool Albion.

" There is something, and a great deal too, for almost every reader in this volume, for the physician, for the invalid, for the historian, for the antiquarian, and for the man of letters. Dr. Madden has rendered a necessary service to the profession and to the public upon the subject under notice." — DubhnEvening Post. " Dr. Madden's work is fraught with instruction that must prove useful both to practitioners and patients who study it." — Saunders' News Letter. "Dr. Madden deserves the thanks of all those persons afflicted with that dire disease, consumption — as well as of those who suffer from thromc bronchitis, asthma, <fec. It is tbe best work on change of climate that has ever been presented to the public." — Daily Post. NO HOME COMPLETE WITHOUT A WILLC0X AND GIBBS' NOISELESS FAMILY SEWING MACHINE.

Chapter I. Blabberty Cuetsums

" Lawks, miss, whatever has kept you out so late? Here's Missis getting into a pretty flurry about you, and me and Miss Gertrude has been ever so far down the road to see if you was in sight. Such a pity too, as you was out this evening, for there's been the hand somest and the pleasantest spoken gentleman a calling here as ever you see. I happened VOL. n. B to be standing at the gate just for a breath of air, as I may be doing now ; well, up he comes, and asks with such a free smile and in such a polite voice, if this was called Lindenhurst. ' Yes, it is, sir,' I says to him, thinking to myself, ' I wonder who you are,' ' and the lady,' I says, ' who lives here is Mrs. Beamish, and if you want to speak to her she's at home with the oldest of the young ladies ; the other one, Miss Ethel,' I says, 4 sir, being gone out for a walk this fine even ing, leastways not exactly for a walk, but to make enquiries about a poor lady in the village, who was took very bad last night, sir, after the feet at Beechwood ;' and then, miss, he smiled so pleasant, and said he would come in, and he sent me with a card to Missis, and I fetched him into the drawing-room, and he stayed above an hour ; and after that, Miss Gertrude showed him all round the garden, which, as I was a passing the drawing-room door accidental, I heerd him say he wanted particular to see, though by the looks of him, Miss, I should guess he comes from a much finer place than ours.

And then, as he was a going away at last, and I stood holding open the gate to him, he says, ' good night, Mary,' in such a free and haffable manner, and with the beautifullest of smiles, that I was quite taken aback, and hadn't even the sense to tell him my name wasn't Mary ; but to be sure, miss, it didn't matter what he called me. I only wish you'd been at home, for it's not often that such as this gentleman who's been here to-night comes our way." As the whole of the above was given in one breath, with a total contempt for stops of any kind, and with the speaker's mouth foaming from her vehemence, I had no choice but to listen to the end. At the first pause, I said — " Betsy, if there was the least chance of any other family in England putting up with your incorrigible tongue, I would induce mamma to give you warning to-morrow.

I cannot stay to talk to you about your folly now ; but we must either cure you of it soon, B or prevent your ever seeing strangers. Where shall I find mamma and Miss Gertrude?" " They was just gone back to the drawing room, Miss, when I come out. I'm very sorry, I'm sure, that my tongue should run away with me, Miss Ethel, as you say it does, and I can't deny but what I've been called a great chatter-box before now — indeed grandmother, poor dear old soul! who's gone to Heaven a year come next Christmas, used to say I'd talk a cat's hind leg off." Without staying to offer any comment upon this remarkable prophesy, I hastened to show myself indoors, and to convince mamma that nobody had been insane enouge to run away with her precious daughter. " Surely," I said, (when, as is usual in these cases,) they were repeating for the second or third time their wonderings and surmises as to my long absence — " Surely Mr. Kenyon must have mentioned the time at which he met me at the stepping stones, and this ought to have shown you that I had loitered and even strayed out of my road in going to the village.

I could not have possibly done the latter half of my journey faster than I did; indeed I ran nearly all the way home." " That was foolish," said mamma, drawing me nearer the lamp to see if I was much heated — " but, Ethel, Mr. Kenyon never mentioned having met you at all — did he Gertie?" " No, I am sure he did not," my sister answered — " for I was wondering how it was he omitted enquiring after you in any way and of course I should have understood it had he alluded to this meeting. How very odd of him." " Not particularly odd, either," I said, a little indignant nevertheless. " I suppose he considered the circumstance too trivial to be worth mentioning. How did you like him, mamma ? " " Well, I was really excessively pleased with him;" my mother replied quite warmly. " He and I had a long talk together before your sister joined us.

I found him not only full of information on general subjects, but apparently deeply interested in the one most young men shrink from or speak lightly of. It was he, not I, who introduced religion into our conversation, but I must say I have rarely discussed it with a more earnest, humble minded and apparently sincere admirer of its doctrines and precepts. I told him he ought to have been a clergyman*" "And what did you think of him, Gertie?" I asked, turning suddenly to my sister, who was busy with some needlework. " You put this same question to me yesterday, Ethel, if you remember," said the stitcher, looking up for a moment with her quiet smile. " I can still only answer as I did then, that he seemed agreeable and gentle manly. Except that mamma admires him so much, I don't know that there is any need for our forming opinions about Mr. Kenyon at all.

We are not likely to become intimate with him." " Oh, by the bye, what about Mrs. Vivian's gracious invitation. Is it to be accepted? " " Why, yes," mamma answered. " I didn't see how we could reasonably or politely res use it, especially as the offer of the carriage removed every difficulty. Gertie is not en chanted at the prospect, but I hope when once you are there, you will both enjoy it." " I detest parties," Gertie said drawing her thread out with a jerk, which I quite un derstood as indicative of irritation, " and assuredly had it been left to me, I should have declined this one without a moment's hesitation. The very idea of schoolmistresses dressing up and going to dancing parties like idle, flirting girls, is to me ridiculous in the extreme. I hope nobody else will ever invite us."

" I don't quite agree with you in this, my dear," said mamma gently. "While you are young and happy there can be no reason in the world against your mingling in any innocent gaiety, which other young and happy women enjoy. I am sure if I thought the occupation that has been chosen for you (here the fond mother's voice became a little tre mulous) was to disqualify you for the ordinary amusements befitting your age and station, I would rather add to our income by taking in washing, or go and live in the smallest and cheapest cottage in England, than let my dear girls be schoolmistresses." " Mamma," said Gertrude, very gravely and earnestly, "believe me, once for all, when I assure you that I would rather be what I am, or rather what I hope to be, than the richest, the idlest, the most prosperous lady in the land.

If my taste is an uncommon one, it is none the less real. Ethel can do as she likes about mingling the usual recreations of youth with her life's work. There is nothing wrong in it to those who can conscientiously unite the two. I don't think I could, so I only hope our kind friends and neighbours will leave me in peace." As soon as I could get my sister alone, I enquired what she had accomplished with mamma on the subject — becoming a somewhat vexed one by this time — of Guy and Meta. " I am utterly bewildered at mamma's per sistency and infatuation," she said, a little wearily; and then I knew that this matter had ruffled her temper also. " She refuses to hear anything against Meta, has every excuse to offer for her love of admiration, and winds up by begging me to think as kindly and indulgently as I can of one who will cer tainly be our brother's wife some day."

" Poor mamma ! she believes so fully that Guy's life or reason would desert him were it otherwise that she will not even glance at the possibility of Meta's eventually refusing him. I warned you how small a measure of success to expect, Gertie. You see I have watched this little matter for some time." " It is far from a little matter," sighed my sister, as she folded up her work for the even ing — "but I am tired of thinking about it now, Ethel. Will you have one turn before B supper in the gardens to see what stars are visible. On bright summer nights like these, we must bring the children out and teach them the elements of astronomy ." It seemed clear that from all the minor vexations and annoyances of her daily life, Gertrude would turn for consolation to the profession which was (at any rate in antici pation) hope and joy, and an all satisfying interest to her.

The next day my sister went early to the village, both to gain tidings of Miss Dora and to convey to Jane Norton, as she had under taken to do, Mrs Vivian's invitation for the following Monday. She found the invalid rather better, but still too weak and nervous to see any body except her sister and the doctor. Miss Downing appeared pleased that her niece should have been thought of by the great lady of Fell House, and it was settled that Jane should spend the afternoon of Monday at Lindenhurst, go with us to the party, and sleep at our house that night. " Oh, and I met the vicar as I was coming away," said Gertie, when she had told me all the above. " He was bringing a basket of apricots to Miss Dora, the first ripe ones that had been gathered this season, he told me, and I wondered whether they were from those standard trees which used to produce such a splendid crop in our time.

By the bye, he asked particularly after you, Ethel, and said I was to tell you Maggie was very busy get ting her little stock of books ready. I think you are a favourite with the vicar." " He is always very kind and friendly to me ; but you see he looks on me now, not as Ethel Beamish, but as Margaret Wyke's teacher, and hence any interest out of the common which he may feel in me." " Well, that is natural enough. I hope Maggie will get on with us, but she is such a shy, unapproachable little thing, that I am afraid it will not be very easy to teach her amongst others. I wonder in her case Mr. Wyke should not have preferred a governess at home." "I suppose being a widower, he could only have had an elderly lady to reside in the house, and Maggie does not like elderly ladies at all." "Poor child ! then if her father should marry again, she won't be very fond of her step-mother, I am afraid."

I laughed as I enquired why not. Did Gertie know of any vow Mr. Wyke was under to marry none but an elderly lady. " He is almost too old himself to marry a young one," my sister said, in the rather positive way which was natural to her. " Mr. Wyke must be forty at the least, and of course he would not choose a wife under thirty. It would be ridiculous, especially in a clergyman." " I cannot see that at all," I answered, as positively this time as my sister. " Why, when he first came here, some of us were thinking of Alicia Clarkson for him, and no body ever suggested that such a match would be absurd." " What a set of gossips and match-makers you all are at Graybourne," said Gertrude, laughing now, but mingling a little disdain with her laugh. " I gave you credit for more sense, Ethel, but I suppose two months of village society is enough to inoculate any one with the disease always raging in villages."

" One must have some amusement, you know," I said, " and theoretical match-making at women's tea parties is at least more innocent and blameless than back-biting and scandal. I don't think we are much given to these dangerous vices at Graybourne. Mrs. Arnott might be, but we are, upon the whole, a virtuous little community, take my word for it, Gertie; and you must not, in your superior wisdom, be too hard upon us." " I am only trembling lest I should catch the disease, too," laughed my sister, as Betsy appeared to summon us to dinner ; " so mind you watch me well, Ethel, and sound a friendly note of warning when the first dangerous symptom appears." The next day was Sunday, and after the morning service Gertie and myself went round to call on the Downings, none of their household having been at church.

We found Miss Harriet quite knocked up from her close attendance upon her sister, and Jane Norton acting as nurse to them both. The latter, however, who seemed rather to enjoy her novel duties, took the first opportunity of telling me that Mr. Burns had been to see them the day before, that he had brought a large parcel of books for aunt Harriet, and, better still, a delicious little dormouse for herself. " You know I told him the other day how fond I was of dormice, and that I had not had one for years, but of course I never thought for a moment that he would give me such a thing. I must show it you, Miss Ethel — it is the greatest beauty you ever saw in your life, and so soft, I am wanting to be stroking him all day. I have named it 1 Blabberty Cuetsums' — do you think it a pretty name ?

" " An uncommon one, undoubtedly, Jane, and I should imagine requiring some ingenuity in its invention. Did it take you long ? " " Oh dear no ; I thought of it almost at once — but wasn't it kind of Mr. Burns to bring me such a nice present ? I do like him so much." " I suppose he only paid you a short visit yesterday ? " " No — he would not stay ten minutes when he heard of aunt Dora's illness, but he is to come to tea one evening next week." Both Gertie and myself offered to remain at the cottage for the afternoon if we could be of any use to the sick inmates, but Miss Downing would not hear of our giving up our Sunday, and was quite sure she should be strong and well again by the evening. Jane had proved herself a very skilful little nurse, and could continue doing for them all that was required.

" And about to-morrow evening? " I asked, really anxious that poor Jane should not be disappointed of her party at the Vivian's. " If you are not better, Miss Harriet, may I take your niece's place for a few hours while she is at Fell House. The entertainment will probably be more in her way than ours." " Oh," said Gertrude eagerly — " you know how I want to get out of this tiresome party, Ethel. If Miss Downing will accept either of us in lieu of Jane, do let it be me." " My dears, it shall be neither of you," replied Miss Downing positively. " I shall be quite myself after a night's rest, and even were it to be otherwise I would not detain that poor child at home for the world." So it was no use urging the matter further, and after a peep at Jane's dormouse, and a few more ecstasies on that young lady's part concerning both it and its donor, we said good bye and went home by the meadow road I had taken two nights ago when the dreaming fit had come upon me.

Chapter II. Twilight And The Vicar

I struggled the whole of Monday morning against a desperate headache which had at tacked me on getting out of bed, and con tinued to grow worse and worse with every remedy I tried to subdue it. Nevertheless, as I knew how seriously annoyed Gertrude would be if she had to go to the Vivians without me, I would not entirely give up hope of conquering the enemy, or even acknowledge how sick and helpless I really felt, until Jane Norton arrived in the afternoon. By this time I was suffering intensely, and on Jane's exclaiming how pale I looked, I found sudden courage to say to my sister : — " Gertie, it is no good. I have done my best, but you see it is all useless. The pain is becoming sharper every minute, and I must abandon all idea of the party, and go to bed instead." I believe I have hinted before that if this dear sister of mine had a fault visible to those around her, it was a little quickness of temper, on what often appeared to me and others very slight occasions.

As I spoke now, she looked up abruptly from her work ; her face flushed, her brow contracted, and she said, in rather a hard tone, at least it sounded hard to me, with my poor head throbbing as it did : — " I never knew anything so provoking and unfortunate in my life, Ethel. Strange that you, who don't get a headache once in six months, should get one for this particular evening." " Dear," I replied, wearily (I was too ill to be indignant), "you don't, I hope, question its reality. Even if I were hypocrite enough to feign illness at any time, the motive would be lacking in this case. I rather liked the idea of going to Fell House than otherwise." " More than I do," retorted Gertrude, still in the same pitiless voice, " if your headache were a hundred times worse than it is, and would leave you for me, I should only be too thankful."

With this she gathered up her work, and, not condescending to bestow another glance upon me, walked, in a dignified manner, out of the parlour. And I, finding mamma, and gaining abundance of sympathy and kind words from her, went dejectedly to my own room, asking Jane, who I saw was burning with indignation against my sister, to bring me a cup of tea when the family had theirs at five o'clock. Soon after getting into bed I fell asleep, and was awakened two hours later by the pressure of a soft, cool hand upon my forehead. I started up with a vague impression that it must be Jane Norton who had come to bring me my tea, but instead of Jane, my sister stood beside me, no longer angry or doubting, but kind, gentle, affectionate, as was her wont to be. " Are you better, dear ? has your sleep refreshed you ?

Will you have some tea now, or shall I bathe your forehead a little first? Poor Ethel — I wish I could bear the pain for you." And I was sure she did, quite apart now from a desire to escape going to the Vivians. Gertie's irritation never lasted long, and though she was not in the habit of acknow ledging her fault in words, being of a reserved and very proud nature, she always showed by her manner that she was sincerely grieved on account of it, and willing to make any atonement in her power. " I will have some tea, Gertie, please," I replied, holding out my hand to her, " my head is still aching miserably, but I am better here than down stairs. Let me see both yourself and Jane when you are dressed, will you?" "Certainly, dear child. We must begin that unpleasant business, I suppose, as soon as tea is over."

I thought her looking very lovely when at length she came and stood in her pure white dress at the foot of my bed and enquired laughingly (she was determined to show no more naughty tempers on the subject of the party) whether she should " do." Encouraged by her apparent cheerfulness, and in good spirits from feeling a little easier since tea, I replied jestingly: — " You do so beautifully, Gertie, that I am afraid somebody's heart will be quite done for to-night. Mr. Walter Kenyon may have remained invulnerable hitherto, but — " I was warned in time. I saw the red mounting into her cheek, the frown gathering on her smooth, white blow. How stupid of me to forget that my sister's tastes had ever been violently opposed to every species of jesting on these kind of topics. Still, I should have expected only a little impatient shrug of the shoulders, not the anger which, had I finished my foolish speech, it would certainly have provoked.

Poor dear Gertie ! she had been put out so much already to-day. As I paused abruptly, and bit my lips to keep them quiet, Gertie stooped down and kissed me. " Good night, Ethel dear. Try to go to sleep again, and to be quite well by the morn ing. Jane shall sleep with me for fear of disturbing you." Then Jane came in, fresh from mamma's and Betsy's hands, and looking very nice and attractive too. She promised me a full, genuine, and particular account of the party and everybody at it, expressed a thousand regrets at my being obliged to stay at home, kissed and wished me good night, and followed Gertrude down stairs. Then a few minutes later came the carriage from Fell House and took them away, the willing and the unwilling guest, to the scene of gaiety. It was still early (for Mrs. Vivian's party being ostensibly a juvenile one, she had chosen a very moderate hour for the assem bling of her friends), and when mamma came up to me on the departure of my sister and her companion, I said I would dress myself in a loose wrapper, and get down to the sofa in the drawing-room.

" Do, dear," mamma replied, " for it is a cool, lovely evening, and I think you will enjoy lying by the open window and breath ing the fresh air. I shall be busy with Betsy for another hour or so, as she is going to make some jam to-night, but with your headache you will perhaps be better alone." To which I assented, and, refusing mamma's offer of assistance, quickly slipped on a dressing gown, and went down to the sofa and the open window, and the delicious quiet of our large, cool drawing-room. Here, as was natural, the sweet spirit of sleep very soon came and breathed a gentle blessing over me again. Languid both from the pain I had endured, and the influence of the soft summer air, I could not keep awake, and I did not care to do so. They are generally pleasant dreams that visit us in the snatches of sleep into which we are lulled by stillness and a July atmosphere.

I dreamt now of green, shady forests and babbling streams, and wild flowers that were springing up thickly and luxuriantly beneath my feet ; and then suddenly, in the very centre of the fair, smiling scene, in which I had been revelling alone, appeared a dark, stagnant lake, and by this lake sat a woman with her head bowed down between her hands, apparently weeping. I went up to her and asked her why she cried ; I touched her on the shoulder and she seemed to quiver under my touch. " Who are you," I said — " and what is this lake by which you sit and weep so bitterly ? " Then a voice I did not know, answered — " I VOL. II. c weep for the lake which was once clear and bright and flowing, but has been poisoned and made dark and stagnant as you see — it was done in wantonness, in sport, and in reck lessness of what might be the result, but it is done for ever."

With these last words, uttered in an indescribably pathetic tone, which seemed to wring my own heart, and brought tears to my own eyes, the speaker looked round at me slowly, and revealed to my horror, rather than to my surprise or mystification — for one is never either surprised or mystified in a dream — the face of Gertrude and Meta in one. Impossible to have said which it most resembled, for it exactly re sembled them both, and impi'essed me with the idea that it teas both, incomprehensibly but none the less surely united in a single counten ance. The strangeness and the horror of the thing awoke me suddenly with real tears in my cheeks — awoke me at the very moment when Betsy, ignorant that I had come down stairs, was ushering Mr. Wyke into the drawing room, and explaining to him, with her usual volubility and communicativeness, the whole proceedings of the family during the day.

I was at first too drowsy and confused either to get up or to speak a word. I had a vague hope that Betsy would see me and take our visitor elsewhere before he could discover my presence ; but that incorrigible individual, wholly engrossed with her own absurb chat tering, did not see even glance towards the end of the room where my sofa was placed. She would probably have hovered some minutes round the poor vicar, buzzing her gratuitous and unasked for information into his ear, had he not suddenly, and in a tone of quiet dignity that I thought sufficient to rebuke a dozen Betsys, said — " Thank you, I will trouble you now to let your mistress know that I am here." Then, very unwillingly, and no doubt re senting this abrupt dismissal, Betsy vanished ; and as Mr. Wyke was taking a chair she had set for him much nearer to the door than to me, c I managed to rise and to walk slowly (for I was giddy now as well as in pain) towards his end of the room.