A Prince of Como. A novel

Front matter

JstRROLiDS' 3/6 SERIES Popu lafT Novels By WELL-KNOWN AUTHORS. (Crown S7jo, Cloth.) Uniform with "A Prince of Como." r LOUIS DRAVCOTT. By M«s. Leith Adams. 2nd Edition. 2. GEOFFREV STIRLING. By Mrs. Leith Adams. 5th Edition. 3. BONNIE KATE. By Mrs. Leith Adams. 2nd Edition. 4. A NEW OTHELLO. By Hoi. Iza Dltffus Hardy. 2nd Ed. 5. THE MAID OF LONDON BRIDGE. By Somerville Gibney. 3rd Edition. 6. EVELINE WHLLWOOD. By Major Norris Paul. 2nd Ed. 7. OLD LATTIMER'S LEGACY. By J. S. Fletcher. 2nd Ed. 8. THAT LITTLE GIRL. By Curtis Yorke. 5th Edition. 9. DUDLEY. By Curtis Yorke. 4th Edition. 10. THE WILD RUTHVENS. By Curtis Yorke. 3rd Edition. 11. THE BROW'N PORTMANTEAU, and other Stories. By Curtis Yorke. 2nd Edition. 12. HUSH ! By Curtis Yorke. 3rd Edition. 13. ONCE! By Curtis Yorke. 2nd Edition. 14.

A ROMANCE OF MODERN LONDON. By Curtis Yorke. 3rd Edition. 15. HIS HEART TO WIN. Ry Curtis Yorke. 2nd Edition. 16. DARRELL CHEVASNEY. By Curtis Yorke. 17. BEl'WEEN THE SILENCES. By Curtis Yorke. 18. THE PEYTON ROMANCE. By Mrs. Leith Adams. 3rd Ed. 19. THE GOLDEN MILESTONE. By Scott Graham. 3rd Ed. ao. A RECORD OF DISCORDS. By Curtis Yorke. 2nd Edition 21. "CHERRY RIPE !" By Helen -Mathers. 8th Ed tion 22. STORY OF A SIN. By Helen' Mathers. 5th Edition. 23. EYRES ACQUITTAL. (Sequel.) By Helen Mathers. 4thEd. 24. JOCK O' HAZELGREEN. By Helen Mathers. 4th Ed 25. MY HDY GREEN SLEEVES. By Helen Mathers. 6ih Ed 26. FOUND OUT. By Helen Mathers. 27. THE MEDLICOCTS. By Curtis Yorke. 28. THE HEART OF A MYSTERY. By s. W. Si-eight. 29. MAN PROPOSES. By Mrs. A. Phillips. 3j. THE LAST OF TrtE HA.ODOMS. By Mrs. E. Newman.

Ii. ALLANSON'S LITTLE WOMAN. By Eastwood Ridson. 32. LINDSAY'S GIRL. By Mrs. Herbert -Martin. »: 33. WRONGLY CONDEMNED. By Mrs. Bagot Harte, k Autfa >r of " Bianca," ,\:c. v K 34. THE THIRTEENTH BRYDAIN. By Margaret Moule, 0 Author of "Wingrove's Ways," "Dick's Wife," "Miss S Maidment," &c. 33. THROUGH ANOTHER MANS EYES. By Eleanor Holmes. 36. MRS. WYLDE. By Linda Gardiner. 37. A PRINCE OF COMO. By E. M. Davy. 2nd Edition. 33. RUTH FARMER. By Agnes Marchbank. J OTHERS IN PREPARATION. LOJVDO.V: JARROLD & SO.VS, 10 and it, Warwick Lane. flobcl F\ E. M. DAVY/C Aut/wr of" Under the Rises " Between Man and Wife," " A Daughter of Earths etc., etc. LONDON JARROLD & SONS, 10 & n, WARWICK LANE, E.C. [All rights reserved] CONTENTS. CHAP Fin* i. I am Ten Years old ..... 1 ii. Little Lovers . . . . . .11 in.

Chapter I

I AM TEN TEAKS OLD. The first date that stands out distinctly in my memory is the 4th of June 1860. It was my birthday ; and I awoke on that particular morning in a double sense — I sat up in bed and thought. As nearly as I can recollect to-day, the tenour of my thoughts ran thus : I am ten years old, and I am Nora Annesley— a little girl. I ought to have been a little boy. Yes, there is no doubt about it, I ought to have been a boy ; and so I have been altogether a mistake from the very first. And that is why my mamma is so often cross with me, and perhaps why papa takes no notice of me, and my only sister, Clara, despises me, and nobody ever did, or ever will, love me. I have been a girl for ten years now, I thought, sighing profoundly ; I shall be one always, I suppose, and — I don't like it 1 My sister Clara is four years older than I. She is fast asleep in her little white bed over there.

She is very pretty ; has smooth silky dark hair, and dark eyes like mamma. But I do not love Clara. No, I am quite sure I do not love her. That does not matter to her in B the least, however, for she is everybody's favourite, and never gets a cross word or look, and no one ever says or hints that she ought to have been a boy ! Our mamma is very handsome and clever, and I wonder how she came to marry our papa ? For he is quite old-looking, and not at all handsome. He is very silent, writes a great deal, and reads lots of books, and sits continually in his library, which has a kind of musty smell. We live at Marshpool, a town in the north of England. Mamma always is displeased, I can see, when any one says we live in the town ; so I suppose it is thought better to live, as we do, just outside.

We don't know many people. I wish we did, but mamma seems to think there are very few " nice " people in the world. It seems strange — such a big world as it must be, too. (Here I looked out of the window ; but there was not much of the world visible from that). We have three women-servants : a cook, a house maid, and a maid — mamma's maid. Her name is Jessie — we are told to call her Tomkins ; I don't know why, for it is an ugly name, and Jessie such a pretty one. But when Clara or I call her Jessie, mamma is quite angry. She says a maid should be called Tomkins. I wonder if every lady's-maid is called Tomkins, and why ? 0, what a lot of things I should hke to know about ! I ought to know them, now that I am ten years old. Our house stands in a garden off the road. We have a coach-house and stable, and there is a room over them where Stanton sleeps.

Stanton is something — I don't quite know what to call him ; but he takes care of the horse and carriage and the garden, and sometimes comes in to wait at table. There is something else he some times does — he kisses Jessie. I caught him once, and he looked so red and so ashamed that I pretended I had not seen. I don't believe he quite knows whether I saw or not. Perhaps I shall find that out some day. I AM TEN YEARS OLD. 3 My thoughts were here brought to an abrupt termina tion by Jessie, who came in to call us. "Now then, young ladies," she cried, "jump up quick ! Surely you haven't forgotten your new governess is coming this morning?" I had forgotten it, and it was anything but pleasant to be reminded of the fact. When we had breakfasted, and mamma brought the new governess into the schoolroom, saying, " My dears, this is Miss Grainger," I made up my mind at once to hate her ; and I think that, on the whole, I pretty well succeeded.

She was little and old and ugly. Her skin reminded me of some queer paper I had seen with faded writing on it in my papa's library, and which he called parchment. She wore an ugly dress — all squares, made horribly — and thick starched linen cuffs and collar. In front of the latter was stuck an immense brooch of coloured pebbles. She was very proud of that brooch, I discovered afterwards ; for her dear Lady Compton brought it for her all the way from Scotland. I hated Scotland after that. When Clara's lessons were over — for Miss Grainger took little or no notice of me, and I had nothing to do but to sit still and watch them both — mamma came in again, and then Miss Grainger said, " Miss Annesley is really very well advanced, considering." Mamma smiled, as she always did when pleased, and said she was very glad, and Clara looked delighted too.

This irritated me to such a degree that I could not help questioning, " Considering what?" But I felt terribly frightened the next moment, when mamma said, " That child must be kept down, Miss Grainger. Keep her down in every way. You understand ?" " Dear child ! I will do my duty by her, madam, never fear." Her duty, of course, was to obey mamma, and keep me down. 0, how I wished I had not spoken ! How I wished I were a boy ! Most of my childish troubles at this time rose from speaking out my mind far too im petuously. It seemed to me that my sister gave herself quite the airs of a grown-up young lady when we had got Miss Grainger. "Dear Miss Grainger," said Clara one day after lessons, " I mean to work so hard. I wish to be your favourite pupil." I forget the answer, but I know Clara next inquired the names of the young ladies Miss Grainger had taught before ; and when told they were Jane and Margaret, she exclaimed, "What common names!

But which did you like best — Lady Jane or Lady Margaret ?'' " Jane and Margaret Compton were both good girls, and clever.'' " But I thought you would call them by their titles," persisted Clara. " How nice that they would allow you to speak of them by their Christian names !" " They had no titles, my love," said Miss Grainger quietly. " No titles !" exclaimed Clara, putting on quite an injured air. " Why, mamma said you had lived in a titled family ! Then they were no better than ourselves. I thought they were real ladies — " " I'm sure I hope they will turn out to be shop keepers, or people of that sort ; it would be such fun !" It was I who said this, you may be sure. And both Miss Grainger and Clara looked at me as though they would like to kill me. I was dreadfully frightened, as usual, after I had spoken, and went to stand in a corner with my face turned to the wall, as I was bidden.

Clara was not so polite to Miss Grainger after that / AM TEN YEARS OLD. 5 day. Perhaps Miss Grainger did not quite know why ; but I did. Our schoolroom was not to be called a schoolroom any more, but a study. Lady Compton's was called a study : that was the reason of the change of name, I think. Our morning lessons lasted from nine till half past twelve. Shall I ever forget how wearied I used to be of sitting still and listening to the reading and the talk on subjects I did not understand, and of which I dared not ask an explanation ? Miss Grainger's system seems to have been to impart instruction direct to Clara, leaving me to pick up what stray crumbs of knowledge I could gather. Sometimes I forgot where I was, and fell half -asleep, and had to pinch my fingers and step on my own toes in my vain efforts to rouse myself.

One warm summer's day I remember becoming terribly tired of listening to the reading, and my attention wandered to a poor little fly buzzing on the window pane. It kept knocking its poor head against the glass, and seemed crying and moaning to be let out into the air and sunshine. At last I really fancied it said, " Please, please open the window for me." It appeared to address itself solely to me ; so I whispered softly, as I thought no one else could hear me, " I will — indeed I will, as soon as ever I dare.'' But Miss Grainger heard me, for she asked sharply, "What are you saying, Nora?'' " I — I wasn't speaking, please." " That is an untruth, Nora. Tell me instantly what you were saying !" commanded our governess very crossly. " I wasn't speaking to anybody, indeed I wasn't. Only just the fly."

" The luhat f" cried Clara ; and 0, how she laughed ! It seemed I must give some explanation then, and so I said, " You ought not to laugh. You had no business to notice what was said when it was not said to you. Nor you, Miss Grainger ; for I have heard you tell us this often. That fly on the window-pane was asking some one to let it out into the garden, and no one seemed to understand but me. So I told it I would when I dare. That is all." " And plenty too Alas, poor me ! She gave me a loDg punishment lasson to learn, and told me that in future she would rap my knuckles every ten minutes, to make me attend to what was going on. And Clara walked across to the window, took her handkerchief, and squeezed the fly quite dead. Then I began to cry and sob, and at last was ordered up-stairs to bed, where I quite forgot what happened next, for I cried myself to sleep.

Miss Grainger had been with us quite three weeks, and I hated lessons worse than ever. Nine times she had rapped my knuckles for " thinking about something else," and twice she had shaken me : " If she shakes me anymore I shall kick her; I know I shall," I said to myself many a time, burning with rage and indignation. But I may as well add here, though sorely tempted, I never put that threat into execution. Surely the petty griefs of childhood are very hard to bear ! Clara did not suffer from them. She had always been happier far than I. When she was only ten years old was she doomed to sit and listen to another Clara taking her essons? Then why should I be ? It was quite hot summer weather, and the end of June, and Clara and I went to church one Sunday morning in some new fashionable frocks and hats mamma had sent for from London for us.

Clara liked hers but I did not like mine. The skirts were so short ; and I could not coax my stockings to keep up anyhow. Mamma saw some wrinkles in my best long silk stock- / AM TEN YEARS OLD. 7 ings, and said it really shocked her. Jessie observed, " she more need " be shocked at seeing Clara's legs now that she had grown such a tall big girl. I liked Jessie more than ever when she said this ; she seemed so kind and sensible. Then my hat did not fit my head properly, and would slide back, and it was impossible to attend to the prayers and find my places when there was so much to feel anxious about in my new clothes. What "alone succeeded in diverting my attention successfully at last was the presence of a boy I had never seen before, sitting in the seat in front of us. He was not much bigger than I. He had the prettiest curly light hair imaginable, and he seemed to laugh at me with his big blue eyes.

He had taken some marbles to church ; for I saw them. He gave me a peep at first one and then another out of his pocket. He had some bonbons too ; yet the lady with him was not at all angry. Ah, how much nicer it was to be a boy ! No one spoke to me all dinner-time. We dined at one o'clock on Sundays with papa and mamma. I was in disgrace for behaving so badly in church ; and when dinner was over, papa asked if any one would go and walk with him. He always asked this every Sunday, but no one ever went. However, on this particular day mamma said that I must go ; and I know she said it to punish me ; and so, very sulkily, I mounted the stairs to dress. I put on my old hat and an old frock ; for I knew anything would be thought good enough to go out in with papa. He made a few remarks to me when we had left the house ; but I did not feel inclined to speak.

We walked a long way, during which I neither attempted to answer him nor did I attend to' what he said. We went my favourite walk, too, across the fields to Farmer Dixon's, and when we came to the httle wood beyond, papa sat down beneath the trees, and presently I dropped on to the grass beside him ; but neither of us spoke a word. At last I got quite tired of this dull silence, and of watching the butterflies and bees. Then I looked round at papa for the first time. WTiat an old-looking man, and how ugly and shrivelled. I thought, to be the husband of mamma ! And then I began to wonder to myself what he could have been like as a little boy, and if mamma had known and loved him then— for most surely she did not seem to love him now that he was a man. At last, as I watched his face a strange dark shadow seemed to settle there.

He put one hand up to his eyes, and passed it quickly across them, and when I looked at that hand afterwards I saw there was wet upon it. Could it be possible that he was crying ? No ; for none but children ever cried ; and yet somehow I felt frightened, and longed to get up quite quietly and run away. But before determining to go, I thought I would look again, and then I was quite sure that he was crying, and something came over me — the strangest feehng I had ever known — compelling me to stay. It not only made me stay, but I crept near, curling myself close up to him, and slipped my hand in his. Then this feehng, which I could not explain, caused me to lay my head upon his breast and cry. And when he clasped me more tightly in his arms, and said, in such a trembling voice, "My own little Nonie!"

I think I cried still more. At last he took his handkerchief and wiped my eyes, and smiled. He said I had done him good, and he hoped I would be a dear httle girl, and a comfort to him always. How gentle his voice sounded ! How tenderly he stroked my face ! I never knew before papa had such nice kind eyes and loving ways. "Papa," cried I impetuously, "I am sometimes, 0 so unhappy too ! May we sometimes have a good cry we two together?" / AM TEN YEARS OLD. 9 " No," he answered, kissing me once more, "for I am not unhappy now — now that I know my little daughter loves me." O, the gleam of happiness that shone through me as he said those words ! I felt changed in one short mo ment from the most miserable to the happiest little girl in all the wide, wide world. Why did not people care for my papa ?

He should be a new papa to me from that day, and I would care for none but him through all my hfe. As we walked home through the fields everything seemed transformed to fairyland ; but, alas, when we once more reentered the house, the charm was gone. Papa quite suddenly became as sad and silent as he had ever been. A few days after this, watching carefully my oppor tunity so that no one should observe me, I crept steal thily into my father's library, and when I had closed the door carefully behind me I advanced boldly to the table, before which he was seated writing. " Papa," I said, laying my hand upon the open book in which he wrote, " papa, I want you to give me a big book like this, to be my very own." "Like this?" he asked, looking up surprised and flurried. " Yes, yes, you shall have a book, any book you wish, but not this.

A picture-book you mean. Go away now, my dear — " " I won't stay a minute to disturb you, papa, if you will give me a book — a big thick book. I don't want a child's picture-book,'' I added scornfully, " I want a book to write in — one like that." He pointed, a little impatiently, to a large bulky volume lying near. " You can have this, child ; only — take it away, and don't come here any more when I am busy. What do you want to write in it, little woman ?" he asked, patting my cheek, as, catching up my treasure eagerly, I kissed him hastily on the forehead, and was about to rush from the room. "It's a great secret, and nobody in the world must ever know," I stammered, feeling my face burn scarlet, as I went on to make my confession. "It's nothing bad, and so I'll tell just you. I want to write down in it everything that ever happens to myself and you and everybody here.

And when I'm grown up quite big it will be like a story-book, perhaps. But— you won't tell ? Promise !" Of course he promised. He was only too glad to do or promise anything, no doubt, to be rid of me, that he might resume his work. To this entirely I attribute the fact that he never afterwards spoke to me of what was such an important incident in my life, namely, giving me that book. What to do with it ? — that was my next thought ; and as I ran from the room and was about to mount the stairs, I caught sight of Clara half-way up. This determined me not to keep my treasure in the house. The front door stood open : I ran out, down to the summer house at the bottom of the garden. There was matting nailed all round the walls of our summer-house, reaching up a yard and more. It was old and worn, and in some places torn away.

My book would push down behind quite easily in one of these torn places. I tried, and it was hidden beautifully ; not a soul need know that it was there. And all I had to do was to come when I could, alone, and write down all I had to say. What a wonderful amount of pleasure and of pain seemed mixed up with the possession of that book ! Sometimes, when the summer days were more than usually close and warm, Miss Grainger gave us our lessons in the summer-house. Then I used to be in fear and trembling lest by any unlucky chance a glimpse of my treasure hidden behind the matting should be perceptible. And whenever a tall spider came running out — there were myriads of them there — I wondered if he* lived between the pages of my book. Sometimes the queer creatures would stand still, perch themselves on their long legs, and look at me as though they were going to speak.

They would have got me into dreadful trouble if they had, for at this time I began to have a secret — a great secret — shared only with my book. I used to write about it when I could escape alone to the summer-house, and felt sure no one would see what I wrote except the spiders, and they, poor things ! could never tell.

Chapter II. Little Lovers

My secret was this : I had met the little boy who had laughed at me in church, and we had become great friends. We went to a party — Clara and I — a real party. The lady who gave it called herself to invite us, and mamma sent for us into the drawing-room. When Clara was told of the invitation, she looked down and smiled, and said she would like very much to go, if mamma did not object. Then the lady turned to me, and asked if I would like to go, and I said I did not know. Mamma, thinking I could not have heard rightly, repeated what the lady said. I answered the same again. It was the truth. How could I know ? I thought most probably I should not like it at all. I should have to wear my best clothes, and something unfortunate was sure to happen to them. Besides, whatever I said, was it not generally wrong ?

It seemed quite a long time since now that I had decided to say in reply to everything, " I do not know." I was wrong again ; mamma was angry with me, and I determined to be as provoking as possible all that and the following day, in hopes that, as a punishment, I should not be permitted to go to this garden-party. But no, it was fated that I was to go; and then I was sure they must be very nice people indeed who gave it, that mamma should be so anxious for us to be there. There was tea on the lawn at four o'clock, and we played at games ; but somehow my frock got crumpled and torn at once, while Clara's kept quite nice and fresh all through the evening. There were a good many boys at the party. Now, we had never been allowed to associate with boys on any account, and this made me the more astonished mamma had permitted us to go.

The boy I had seen in church was there. I knew him instantly, and he knew me. He came to me, and said he knew I did not like going to church, and asked what I liked best of anything. I answered promptly, "Marbles." He laughed and looked delighted, and said I ought to have been a boy. Then I laughed too, most heartily, and told him I knew quite well I ought, and was very sorry it was not so. He said it did not much matter, as far as he was concerned, for I was the nicest girl there, the rest being all poor silly things, who thought only about their smart dresses, and I must go away with him, and we two would play apart. Then I discovered that his name was Harry, that he had no father or mother, and, therefore, that he was an orphan. Up to this time I had always thought people felt very sorry for orphans, and pitied them deeply — that they were invariably poor and wretched and in rags.

But when I told Harry this he laughed, and said I was quite mistaken, for he found it the jolliest thing in the world to be an orphan, and being one, he ought to know. And so what I wrote most about in my precious book, hidden away in the summer-house, was of my meetings with Harry, for our holidays had begun, and I had a great deal of time at my own disposal. If mamma wanted to make calls she took Clara, and I was allowed to run about pretty much as I liked, so that I was in at meal-times and kept out of everybody's way. Farmer Dixon's tall grass field was our favourite rendezvous. Harry and I would lie hidden among the grass and tell each other stories for hours together, and wonder what we should do when we grew quite old. Great was my distress when I went one day as usual to the trysting place, and found all the beautiful high grass cut down, the poor flowers shrivelled and withering in the burning sun.

It reminded me of a certain passage in the Psalms, and I sat down and cried till my eyes were red for hours afterwards. But a few days more brought happiness again. The dead grass and flowers all turned to hay, and then we revelled in it once more. One long afternoon we had lain covered up in it, hidden away from the heat of the July sun. Harry had been telling me some of his ambitions, of which I had grown rather weary of hearing. To put an end to the subject, I jumped up, and, shaking the loose pieces of hay off me, cried out suddenly, " Measure !" " What is the use of me telling you what I mean to do when I am a man if you interrupt like that ?" Harry asked, apparently much vexed. " I have been attending closely — indeed I have, Harry, and that is why I want to measure," I answered, straightening myself.

" Measure what?" " You and me." " What has that to do with it ?" " A great deal. You are such a very little bit bigger than I am now that I was thinking if you don't grow very quickly, I'll be a woman long before you are a man." " Perhaps I mayn't be a tall man." " O!" "I don't think I shall. Our family are not tall people. Tall people are only for show, you know. Now, a little man — " " Isn't worth looking at," I laughed. " Little men have the biggest minds," he said, coming and standing back to back with me a moment ; but there was no one to measure us, so it was of no use. " If you notice what you read, Nonie, you'll find most of the men who have done the biggest deeds in the world have been httle men. Why, there was Nelson, Napoleon — " " 0, but I don't care about men doing big deeds !