The Mill Wheel. A novel, etc

Front matter

In 1 Vol. Price 4s., elegmt. TWILIGHT STORIES. By E. H. D. KAY and EMMA SIMONET, With Frontispiece by Miriam Kearns. " We heartily congratulate the authors of these stories upon the success they have achieved. The tales will be really interesting to children, and each one carries with it an excellent moral. — Civil Service Gazette." " Of all the tales for children recently published there are none so suitable, so interesting, and so moral."— Daily Guardian. SUDDEN MOURNING. Messes. Jay are always provided with, experienced Dress makers and Milliners, ready to travel to any part of the kingdom, free of expense to purchasers, when the emergencies of sudden or unexpected mourning requires the immediate execution of Mourning orders. They take with them Dresses, Bonnets, and Millinery, besides materials at One Shilling per yard, and upwards, from the piece, all marked in plain figures, and at the same price as if purchased at the London Geneeal Mouenino Waeehouse in Regent Street.

Reasonable estimates are also given for Household Mourning, at a great saving to large or small families. — Jay's, The London Geneeal Mouening Wabehouses, 245, 247, 249, and 251, Regent Stbeet. A NOVEL. IN THREE VOLUMES. BY HELEN DICKENS, Author of " Wild Wood," ic. VOL. I. London : T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. 1874. [all rights reserveu.]

Chapter I

Splash ! splash ! and the spray flies up, as round, round goes the water wheel. Never ceasing day or night, it is like the wheel of Life, or the brook which says : — " Men may come and men may go, but I go on for ever." Aye, true! Men have gone, and men have come, joy and sorrow, winter and summer ; those who one day watched as I am watching now will never watch again : all things are changed or silent, but thou, mill wheel, art going still ! VOL. I. B There's the very duck, or one just like it, that wended her way among the rushes years ago, followed by the pretty yellow "bid-bids." " Quack ! quack !" cries the mother, and off they all waddle along the bank, intent on catching flies. And I lean on the rail of the old mill and watch the wheel that turns for ever. Oh, life ! if one could only step on one side and watch the stream rush by, how much we should learn !

But in the contest, every one is taking heed for his own safety, and does not regard the struggles of his sisters or brothers. Here is a stick coming down the river, whirling round and round, there is no stopping it, and it must be drawn under the wheel. How sue: gestive of some poor young life fighting for a footing, but too weak to stand against the current ! And so it is, day after day ; souls are lost, swept down, like that stick, with the tide! The water mill is situated on the banks of a picturesque river that ripples through the estate of Zeigleheath, in the possession of one Sir Bevis Rudkin, Baronet. It is a famous place for hills and glades, like most parts of Sussex, but Moordart is especially beautiful, and in that favoured place gener ations of Rudkins had lived and died. People called them a blessed race, but there is a difference of opinion about that.

They certainly were a comely set, both male and female, but they had a " skeleton in the house," like most other people. Good gifts God had given them, but alas ! the devil, as usual, held out his hand for a share. The land for miles round was theirs, dotted here and there with many a rustic dwelling. The woods were rich in game and in songs ters, the river was full of fish, and the gar dens abounded in fruits and flowers. There is Zeigleheath, a little to your right ; the dining-room window commands a view of the old water mill, which is empty now, and b the quaint old place almost a ruin. The stage at the side is falling, and the planks are divided, but it is still used by fishers, and sometimes by lovers. It is a lonely spot, and the rosy village maids do not generally select it for their moonlight rambles, and, for another reason, it is a good step from the High Street.

The station (a late addition) is three miles off, and a lumbering old coach goes every morning to take passengers to the nine o'clock train, and returns for them at night, or rather in the evening, at half-past five. An apoplectic guard blows a great horn as it drags itself over the stones and upsets the digestion of its inmates. Nevertheless it is considered by tho Moor darters a great convenience and benefit. Moordart has, I regret to say, not improved " with every shining hour," it has stood still in manners and customs, as well as in appearance. But for those who admire nature and antiquity, they cannot do better than pay Moordart a visit this summer. They need not distress themselves about getting any of Houbigant's gloves, or a bonnet from Madame Mouceau — the best accompaniments to a week's rustication at Moordart are some cotton dresses and a big umbrella.

I question whether the natives would understand a parasol, in all probability they would take it for a dried butterfly or a spider's web. But Zeigleheath is appealing to my con science now, it says : — " Am / not worthy of notice ?" Yes, indeed ! more than worthy. Its majestic bearing and solidity command notice. A fine old place is Zeigleheath ! the only fear I have is lest I should not be able to do it justice. The House was erected by one of the first Rudkins who fought on British soil. They came over with William the Conqueror, so tradition says, and rode by his side in the fight. They were father and son, pure Nor mans, who left their native land to follow their liege lord, and were the means of founding here, on our shores, a mighty, kingly race. Of the two who came over, but one survived the struggle at Hastings — the son, Wilde brand, and to him the Conqueror gave Moor dart, then a poor fishing hamlet between the hills.

There, in sight of the sea, whose billows had tossed him and his father on the Sussex shore, Wildebrand erected himself a house, and called it Zeigleheath, and there he reigned as a monarch among; his vassals. He did not go back to Normandy for his wife : if he had a love he left her there. Any-way, he married one Mildred, a lady of supreme beauty and high rank, the only child of a powerful Saxon Thane, whose estate and title it had pleased William to spare. So when his tried friend and faithful servant Wildebrand Rudkin fell in love with the beautiful Lady Mildred, the Conqueror swept down all obstacles, made him a rich man, and graced the nuptials with his presence. It was a case of the lion and the lamb, or the eagle and the dove. The gentle Mildred, with her milk-white skin and golden hair, was no fit mate for the iron-limbed, eagle-eyed, heavy browed Norman.

And she shrank from him, and feared him when she reached her lonely home. The wind was too strong for the gentle creature ; so after a brief span of wedded life, only three short years, her oft repeated sighs mingled with the song of the restless sea, and she slept the sleep of the weary. But she left something behind her, a lovely boy, who, as he grew old enough, spent his time swinging from rock to rock bird nesting. Legend informs us that the Lady Mildred threw herself into the silvery sea one moon light night, because she had not married her love, and Sir Wildebrand was harsh and cruel to the poor young thing. The fishermen always said the Lady Mildred's spirit appeared to them before a storm, and whenever the White Lady was said to have stood on the Eagle's Cliff, no boats put to sea, however calm the day.

It was the Rudkin curse, and, strange to say, it clung to them. Each knight married a Saxon woman as fair as fair could be ; none fancied a dark woman — it seemed their fate — and in each family there were always a dark and a fair one. It was a queer coincidence, but a true one. We need not follow the doings of every holder of Zeigleheath. They died off, each at his time ; some met their end by violence, others according to age or disease. It will answer our purpose to skip over many, many years, and resume the thread of the story in the decline of the last baronet's time— Sir Alexander. He, like his predecessors, was a handsome man (that was part of the Rudkin inheritance, and inevitably fell to the lot of them all), and wedded a fair lady of noble birth, by whom he had three children, two sons and a daughter — Sir Bevis, the present baronet ; Denis Roger, in the army ; and Clorinda.

Zeigleheath, the original house built by Sir Wildebrand, had never been touched, but it had been added to according to the taste and requirements of its many owners till now it had reached a great size, without much form or regularity ; in fact, it could be called no particular style or design, but a variety of ideas bunched together. Nevertheless, it was a remarkably fine massive building and de cidedly unique. So for once that old adage, " Too many cooks spoil the broth," proved untrue. Sir Wildebrand's house is called " Sir Wildebrand's Tower." It is a most appro priate name, for it looks like a lighthouse with a round tower fixed on the top. It is the highest portion of the building, and commands a fine view of the sea. The sea seems to be necessary to the peace and happiness of the b Rudkins ; they are amphibious animals, and derive great nourishment from sniffing the salt breeze.

Sir Alexander and Lady Dorothy lived to a good old age, and made many improvements at Zeisrleheath, which had also been continued by their son, Sir Bevis. He did not evince any desire to marry, but his younger brother, Denis Roger, married, pretty early, a lovely sweet creature with eyes like a gazelle's, and smooth hair. She was but a poor governess, of good family but straitened circumstances. He met her at the house of one of his brother officers, whose sisters she was teaching, and her amiability and loveliness won the young soldier's heart. Lilian Lafone proved indeed a treasure, though she had neither money nor grand relations to recommend her, but she possessed a cultivated mind, high principles, and a tender, loving heart, which, in my opinion, are things more to be desired than any other.

Denis Rudkin idolised his young wife, and it was a hard struggle to let her go, and say " Thy will be done," when Death stretched out his icy hand. For days Colonel Rudkin would not see the wee speci men of humanity that had robbed him of his love, and its feeble cries were uttered un heeded by him. It was a senseless, unjust sort of revenge ; but men are seldom just in any acute sorrow — they lack the simple, clinging trust that is God's gift to woman. It takes time to soften a man's heart, and so it was with Colonel Rudkin. His heart was still hard when the time for christening baby arrived, and when the old nurse ven tured to carry the forlorn little spark of life into his presence, she found him sitting moodily before the fire, with his eldest child Adeline, a pretty little dimpled fairy of six summers, playing with his dark hair.

He had no idea what the child was doing, and she was enjoying herself after real baby fashion. The old woman rather hesitated : her master's bronzed face had the Rudkin frown, and his mouth was stiffly set under the thick moustache. But he came to the rescue with a not unkindly — "Well, nurse?" " If you please, sir, what name do you wish given to baby" (here a faint cry emanated from the bundle of pink flannel lying across nurse's arm) ? " To-morrow is the day to christen her." He glanced at the bundle and then at the holder in a mystified manner; then he pushed little Adeline off immediately, and answered — " What you like ; fix it amongst your selves." It was now nurse's turn to feel puzzled. "But, sir, you must be pleased to have a fancy ; we might give it a name you would disapprove." " Not at all ; call it anything you like ; it is a girl, you say ?"

" Yes, sir, a little girl. If I might make so bold, sir, may it be called after its mother ?" Up jumped the big man, uttering what sounded extremely like an oath. " No, it may not be called after its mother, there will never be another Lilian, and I will not have her name bandied about; who can tell whether the child will grow like its mother ? No, no, call it Jane !" Tears were standing in the old servant's eyes. " Oh, Mr. Denis ! don't be so hard; it was the Lord's doing, not this poor lamb's. It will never grow like my dear mistress, for it has not her face ; it is just your image, sir — just what you was at its age. Indeed, I might have you in my arms again. Look at it, sir, you have not seen it yet." The nurse advanced a step or two, and pulled the bit of pink flannel off the babe's face.

The father could not longer refuse to see his child, and he bent over the small creature. Nurse was perfectly correct ; the little face, so still and passive, was a curious and wonderful reproduction of the handsome man's of thirty-four. There was the same intelli gent dark-grey eye, gazing up in astonish ment at its newly-found father ; the same broad brow, the same well-shaped nose and mouth, the same clear, dark skin. It was a thin, wiry child, with rather an old face — it could not be called a beautiful child, much less a pretty one — yet there was something attractive about it, something that prevented its being overlooked. Colonel Rudkin stroked the funny little brown hands that were rolled up like walnuts ; nurse told him they were always like that, it was born so. He smiled, and murmured softly — " Poor little thing ! poor little thing !

How pleased Lilian would have been with the baby just like me ! That was her only grief when Adeline came, that she could trace no likeness in her to me. And this little one just my image, and she not here to see it." " She knows all about it, Mr. Denis, bless you !" sobbed nurse, " I only hope it's not hurt her, seeing as how you've never looked at it before. Ah, me ! Well, will you name it, please, sir?" '.' Yes, but not ' Lilian,' there is no resem blance to my angel wife in that little pinched, brown face. Call it ' Renie Dorothy' — ' Renie,' after Charles Renie, for it was at his house I found its mother, and ' Dorothy' after my mother." He turned away, heaved a great sigh, and old nurse left the room, taking pretty Adeline with her. What a contrast between the two children ? the one a sweet little creature like its mother, the other a brown, old-fashioned baby, not wanted, nor really loved ; in fact, regarded by its father as the means of his bereavement and sorrow.

" Has master named it, Nurse ?" asked a pretty girl with black ribbons in her cap. " Yes, Mary, he has, thank goodness. But such a queer name, at least the first part of it." " Why, what ?" " Renie Dorothy.' " Good gracious ! Why I never heard such a name. Renie !" " Yes, that's it sure enough. I have made no mistake, which maybe you are thinking, Mary ; but it's after the Renies, of Polsden, where master met my dear young mistress. And ' Dorothy' is after its grandmother, Lady Rudkin. Well, well, I do wish as it would get fatter, poor motherless little lamb. It is no manner of use asking master to let me get it a wet nurse, he won't hear of it. I heard him say to Sir Bevis when he was over, only yesterday, that his child should not have a foster mother, come what would, so we must just do as well as we can."

" I'll tell you what it is, Nurse, it's my belief that master would not take on over much if it died." " For shame ! Mary Barber ; how can you bring yourself to say such a thing to me of my dear master, as I nursed, like this ?' Pretty Mary only tossed her dainty head, and did not seem in the least abashed. " Oh ! I daresay it's all very well for you ; but as I didn't nurse him I am not troubled with those feelings, and I just uses my senses, that's all. Here's this poor little innocent as is to be christened to-morrow, and have such a heathenish name. Why couldn't he have given it a name fit for a Christian. Arabeller Berlinder, or Sophiar Amander. He has never seen it till to-day, never come near the nursery, and it crying fit to burst, many a time. I don't believe he would ever have remembered Miss Adeline if I had not got her ready and sent her down.

But as for this poor little thing, it might have been dead and buried twenty times for any thing he knew or cared. Now, if you call that naturalness, I've done." " And a good job you have. How's a young, inexperienced thing like you to know about naturalness, I should like to know ? Take my advice, Mary Barber, and talk about things as you do understand, and leave them alone as you don't." " Thank you, Nurse ; but I've got my feelings, like most other young women, I suppose, and my thoughts too, and you can't prevent me using 'em neither. If / had a husband, I shouldn't like to think as he'd slight and neglect my baby when I was stiff and cold." And Mary thought of a certain athletic young carpenter, Jem Muggins by name, who was cutting laths at that very in stant in the tool-house. But her softened feelings were destined to be of short duration, they vanished like chaff before the rage that burst from Nurse, as she defended Colonel Rudkin' s conduct.

Mary felt the smart cap lift from her head, and ventured to " hope as Nurse was not offended by her free speaking." " Offended ! No, Mary, but I cannot listen to such talk. You know nothing about it, and don't understand men's natures. The master is a hard, stern man, and missis's death is like pulling his heart out ; he is not accustomed to it yet, poor fellow ! Wait till you get a husband, and then, perhaps, you'll be better able to pass your opinion ; mean while, keep your tongue quiet about master and his affairs. I never knew much good come of either free speaking or free thinking. Those who speak before they think are fools. Just see if that milk's warm, and if so, give me the feeding bottle." The morrow arrived, and the baby was duly christened " Renie Dorothy." It lived and grew, and also, in answer to nurse's oft repeated prayer, got a trifle plumper.

When it was three years old, a healthy, intelligent child, Colonel Rudkin accepted an appointment as Governor of one of our Colonies, and went, leaving it and Adeline (a pretty child of nine), to the care of their uncle, Sir Bevis, and a governess. Sir Bevis was sorely grieved at his brother's going, and also that he would not allow him to have Adeline and Renie at Zeigleheath. Sir Bevis was a bachelor, and had taken a great liking to his two little nieces, especially Renie, whom he called " the little papoose." When asked, "Who are you ?" she frequently replied, " Nutle's papoose." But Colonel Rudkin was firm. " No, Bevis, my children must remain in my house while I have one. Dove Park is so close to Zeigleheath that a day need never pass without you seeing the little things. I have left you their sole guardian, and if any thing happens to me, you will be a father to them, Bevis ?"

" I will, Denis, so help me God ! I have got neither chick nor child of my own, and it is almost too late to think about it now, so your children shall be mine ; but keep a brave heart, and God speed you home soon."

Chapter II

Colonel Rudkin sailed, and his girls lived at Dove Park with their governess, Miss Webb, a good, sensible Christian gentlewoman, who strove to do her duty piously to the very letter, and cultivated the good seed sown in their hearts as if they had been her own children. Miss Webb was not particularly old ; Colonel Rudkin did not desire his daughters' com panion and friend to be a stiff, rigid woman, with every crease ironed out. He sought for a clever, reasonable lady, one who, remembering her own young days, could make allow ances for the innocent frolics of his children ; not a woman who regarded every bit of non sense and mischief as a deadly sin, and punished it as such. Their education was just as well looked after, and their moral training quite as effective as if a code of rules and a birch rod had adorned the mantel-piece in the school-room.

Their uncle rarely allowed a day to pass without seeing them, and their home was as much Zeigleheath as Dove Park, they were the children of both places. Miss Webb had a pleasant time of it ; she was respected, loved by her pupils, and well treated. How different from the lot of most poor governesses ! I don't know a class more to be pitied. They are engaged on the lowest terms, and expected to dress well, and to know everything — English, French, music, German, drawing, &c, &c, &c, all of which they, poor suffering mortals ! are to impart to blocks of girls for the exorbitant sum of thirty pounds a year. Is it to be marvelled at that there are so many incompetent governesses ? Do you think any draper would sell silk velvet at the price of cotton ? Does knowledge cost nothing to acquire ? or is there so much of it going that it can be had for next to nothing ?

The nursery governess, or, more properly, the nursery drudge, slaves her life away for fifteen pounds a-year, and often not that. I have named the highest figures for both. There are some exceptions, I grant, but they are few and far between. I wonder what the world would do without governesses ? What would become of the many fine helpless mothers if they could not get someone to take charge of the little Turks and be answerable for every bruise on the ill-behaved little wretches? Because, you know, it is the proper thing to talk of " our governess," after a certain time ; " nurse" cannot be with them for ever. Besides for thirty pounds you get all your family educated, whether the unfortunate creature undertook to do it or not, and the cost would be considerably more to send them to school.

And how are these ladies treated (for many of them are ladies born and bred, vastly superior to the vulgar dame whose children they are trying to knock something into) ? Disgracefully, shamefully, put to sleep in a cold, barelyfurnished apartment, left to drag out the evenings in a dark, cheerless, schoolroom, with a handful of fire in the grate, or, more probably, none at all, correcting carelessly executed exercises till eleven and twelve. If not there, she is in the drawing-room, in attendance on the young ladies. There she is regarded as a newly-discovered specimen of something with which they are not acquainted by the females, and through their eye-glasses by the males. She is commanded to sing, and she is commanded to play, and will perhaps have the pleasure of hearing some brainless fool of a Sir Somebody Something, with his face all vol. I. c askew, or his legs at cross-purposes, call her a "doosed putty garl," after which she is permitted to sit down, whereupon the female next to her, with wonderful delicacy of feeling, commences a very animated discourse at the top of her voice on the qualities and short comings of " our last governess," and her experience of them in general.

She is subjected to all manner of insults and slights, from the mistress of the house to her youngest pupil. She is treated by the butler with pompous indifference, and by the rest of the servants with open disdain. She is reduced to the level of a servant herself ; the most to be pitied of them all. She is worked harder, worse paid and treated than any lady's maid. And yet she is a gentlewoman, and well educated ! How is this evil to be remedied ? By the lady of the house (I had nearly written " woman") ; it is she who must set a better example, and then her servants will copy it. She ought to treat her daughters' governess with courtesy and respect; does she not trust their morals to her keeping ? then she must repose confidence in her, and deem her worthy. One would, doubtless, suppose it was so, but it is my painful duty to say that such is not the case, and I will show you why.

Not one half the women who hold rank as ladies ever think about it at all ; being decidedly hazy in that region them selves, they don't feel equal to taking any one else to task. They have accomplished the one grand end and aim of life, namely, matrimony, and, having done that, they con sider it their bounden duty to set upon every one else who is a shade or two lower in position than themselves. The idea of giving precedence to ability never for a moment occurs to them, they look upon a governess as a machine, reported by last owner to do its work well, to be had for so much money, and quite as necessary in an c establishment where there are children as a patent knife-cleaner. If they paid a visit to the school-room during the lessons, they would be no wiser ; did the governess tell the children that Jericho was situated on the coast of France, or that Belle Island was one of the Hebrides !

Ignorance is the mainspring of the evil, they cannot test their powers like a maid's, so they institute a series of snubbings to keep the young person in her proper place, and prevent their own deficiencies from becoming palpable. An educated woman and a lady is not afraid of meeting one of her own sex on any ground, or any terms. But when you see a woman behave towards another as if she thought her red hot, you may be very sure there is something amiss. It is like a baby that is kept an unusual time in long clothes — there is something the matter with that child, it has either no feet or too many toes. A life of toil, privation and insult, is the lot of nearly every governess; shame be it to every Englishman and woman ! We have members of Parliament who hold meeting's and speechify by the hour, even incite their listeners to riot, so enthusiastic and earnest are they in their cause.

But none has yet taken the cause of the poor governess by the hand ; why don't they use their eloquence to befriend her ? True, there are homes for governesses, for which they must pay ; and, then, what are they ? Go and see them ; picture your own child a governess, friend less and lonely, with nothing to turn to but a " Home." When a girl is left alone (as many are, or nearly so) in the wide world, what is she to do ? There are but three reputable callings — -those of a governess, a companion, and a situation in a shop, unless she has some special talent ; and, even if she has, before her work is accomplished she may die of starvation, for no one will take an unknown light by the hand. So the governess or com panion is the safest. She commences the struggle, and toils on, seldom able to save a penny, and praying day and night not to be afflicted with any sickness.

If she does not find a gentleman generous enough to take a poor wife, and one who has been a governess (and I am free to confess they are few, and the word " governess " sticks in their throat like a plum), we again see her toiling on with silvered hair, no richer, no poorer, nothing to show for her years of work but that she — lives. My God! is it for that babies are born and dragged up ? I have just one wish : may everyone who can afford to keep a governess, and who treats her unkindly, lose all their money at one stroke, and may their daughters be turned adrift on the world to get their own bread, after being brought up to work at nothing. May they suffer every slight and insult ; may they walk far and meet with rudeness and disappointment ; may they go to bed each night with a wet pillow and a sad heart, and may every day seem longer than the last !