A Woman's Hand

Preface

. Walking through a very old street in an old cathedral city, I saw a card laid among some goods for sale in a small and dingy shop window, and on the card, in uneven characters, were traced — "A Woman's Hand wanted here." I have ventured to plagiarize so far as to adopt the words for a title to what is written in the leaves of this volume. E. M. E. CONTENTS.

Part I. Chapter Page

I. Mabel's World i II. Which treats of Mabel's Relations III. Morning Studies io 24 IV. "Many a Cloudy Morning turns out a Fine Day" 3* V. Sunshine and Shadow 40 VI. In which we Discover all is not Gold that Glitters 5S VII. A Tangled Web VIII. Morton's Mount 67 77 IX. What can have Happened? X. The Prelude to a Change 9S io6 XI. Good-bye XII. A Visitor "3 125 XIII. Preparing for the Battle XIV. The Conquest 143 i5i XV. Deeper Shadows X CONTENTS.

Part II. Page Chapter

I. Mrs. Wrexhill's Garden Party .. The Ruined Tower ... i83 II 197 III, IV. Missing the Mark 215 The Great Mierte Cave A Tete-a-Tete 223 V, 240 VI. The Yew Walk A Cloudy Day 249 VII. VIII 255 A Star in the Horizon Coming of Age ... 263 IX 268 X. Joleta Corvey A Broken Idol Callers 278 XI. 2S3 XII. 296 XIII. XIV. An Afternoon at the Pines Home Scenes 3°7 320 XV. In the May Twilight Michael's Mother 33° XVI. XVII. XVIII. 338 The Picnic 343 The Sequel to many Chapters Interference 35* XIX. 359 XX. The Wedding Day The Chace 365 XXI. 379 XXII. XXIII. XXIV. Bankrupt 392 Leaving the Manor Hiding 400 4o8 XXV. Before the Curtain Drops 4*9

PART I CHAPTER

I. mabel's world. 'EjJ^jl ORDERING the main road between Norley and K||3| Crassmoor is a belt of pines, and beyond the belt -S-s-S-l the sloping ground is thickly covered with larch and beech trees, with here and there a pine standing straightly up among the lighter green, having apparently deserted from its ranks beside the road. Further down still, a full mile from the high way, and two hundred feet below it, is a deep, moist, always shady hollow, where ferns grow luxuriantly, and long soft, springy moss spreads like a carpet beneath the trees. Almost through the centre, and at the very lowest part of this hollow runs a tiny bubbling stream, here and there broadening so that one could not shake hands across it, now narrow enough for a child to overstep, till at last it finds its home in a lovely miniature lake, a cool heaven reflecting mirror, where, the trees falling away on either side, the sun shines in at noon, and so on bright days the clear gravelly bottom is visible, where the gudgeon swim, always on the watch and eager to seize on every trifle the stream brings down.

There occasionally during some B bitter winter an eider duck might be seen, with its shy wild eyes ; and often the moor-hens swam together through the clear water, nodding their heads and jerking their very short tails after their own approved fashion. They built their nests among the stumps and roots about the water's edge, or in the shelter of the cool green reeds, and many a little moor-hen had its first glimpse of life between the rushes in Crassmoor Hollow. The sun shone, as it will shine in forward Mays at noon, with almost midsummer heat ; the soft western wind played idly among the tree tops, and left the world below to brood undisturbed over its own warm beauty. Old men and women shook their heads wisely and talked of a weather breeder, refusing to don lighter clothing till June should have fairly set in ; but a girl who had not yet seen sixteen May-times, who was all alone, and who sat beside Crass moor Pond in the sunshine, could hardly be expected to follow their example ; certainly she did not, for her short black jacket was hanging from a broken tree branch, her hat was nowhere to be seen, and worse than these indis cretions, quite visible beneath her plain grey dress hung half in, half out of the water, one white naked foot.

Apparently the sight of it was not objectionable to her, for she made the water ripple across and across it, then held it up and let the clear drops fall from it one by one, then plunged it in again over her ankle with a childish delight at the splash and ripple it made. But she was not a child, this radiantly happy being, only so overflowing with joy, and love and life, that she let her self descend sometimes into foolish, childish ways from very sportiveness, as at other times she strove to enclose in her young, tender arms burdens that a man might stagger under. To her then life was a golden, boundless treasure ; she felt the pulse of its mighty heart beating everywhere ; she bowed her head and worshipped the Life-giver, and then she clapped her hands and laughed for very joyousness. Presently she drew her foot from the water, wiped off the first full drops among the rushes, and dried it in a careful dainty fashion with the most absurd little handkerchief in the world ; she drew over it a black stocking, and laced a very substantially made boot, then she began looking about her for the rest of her wearing apparel.

But whilst she was searching for her hat, she stumbled over something which had been hidden beneath a clump of ferns, and stooping to pick it up, brought to light an old brown book, much worn ; it was a translation of some Greek poems. She had not laid it there, certainly ; the quickly flushed cheek, the bright, dilated, and yet softly shining eyes, the tremulous, parted lips told of surprise; she had found what she had not sought, she had forgotten what she had been seeking. One might have believed some charm was hidden in the little volume, so tenderly and carefully it was handled. The girl leaned against a pine tree, and slowly turned the leaves over one by one. By and by she began to sing to herself one of the sweet choruses — Bathed in heaven's ambrosial dew, Here the fair narcissus flowers, Graced each morn with clusters new, Ancient crown of mightiest powers ; Here the golden crocus blows ; Here exhaustless fountains, gushing Where the cool Cephesius flows, Restless o'er the plains are rushing."

At last she closed the book, and glanced cautiously round, for she would not have been seen doing what she was about to do for all the wealth of Egypt ; however, being certain that she was absolutely alone in the beautiful silent wood, she bent her sweet face over the little book, and, as shyly as if it had been her lover's hand, pressed her lips against it for a moment. But now came a difficult question to solve — should she take it back to the owner, or should she return it to the care of the ferns? Modesty, propriety, and timidity suggested the ferns; but inclination, a natural instinct of helpfulness, and also a natural love of interference, bade her follow the former suggestion; she wavered a minute, then yielding to her wish she slowly sauntered up the glen, the book still carefully held between her ungloved, sunburnt little hands.

How the thrushes sang ! How every bush and branch and grass blade appeared instinct with life ! The whole wood seemed to her alive and astir. The birds were darting from tree to tree, or calling to one another between the branches; the great white butterflies were everywhere, now above her head, now fluttering around her, now settling on some flower for a moment, and then, the changeful beauties, making her linger at every step by opening their white wings as if they were about to fly, and closing them again and again, half a dozen times, before that sudden joyous uprising when they floated away into the higher world, and were lost to sight in the green maze. Then a squirrel bounded across her path, and away into a pine tree before she had time to catch her breath, and then she, too — because all her world, the world in which God had given her to grow, was too happy to keep still — began to run along the winding path trying to sing a snatch of her new song as she went.

Now she ought to have run, and she ought to have continued running, because in the old manor house above the hill a luncheon bell had rung out its summons to prepare for the meal, and before long would ring again its announcement that all was ready. But this little Naiad had forgotten about luncheon hours and all things else of a practical nature, (which I am willing to admit is exceedingly trying to every cook and careful housewife,) in the full delight of her existence. It was a beautiful world, and she was gloriously happy in it; yet it was not the mere animal pleasure of existence, it was rather glad ness arising from a fineness of nature which was responsive to every touch it felt; a nature which possessed acutely sensitive perceptions, which would have suffered more than it rejoiced, had it not been for an early development of spiritual consciousness, and a vigorous, healthy, physical organisation.

All at once the song ceased ; the girl's whole attitude changed, reminding one of the sudden silence and fear which falls upon a colony of birds when a hawk is hovering in the air, or of the breathless stillness of nature before the footsteps of a storm. But neither hawk nor storm was approaching, only through the windings of the path, still some distance from her, a figure was dimly discernible. It was the figure of a young man, probably not more than eighteen years of age. He was rather above the average height, of slight build, with a stoop very perceptible in his shoulders. That which was most noticeable in his face was its intense gravity, the long, rather thin lips appeared to be welded together like iron ; the broad delicately-veined brow was shadowed by masses of heavy straight hair, dusky as a blackbird ; and beneath the brow, deeply set, were two large melancholy eyes, looking out into the world with that painful gaze one has often observed in homeless 'children ; non-expectant, joyless, mournful eyes, through which never theless the soul gazes hungrily.

For the rest, he had an aquiline nose, with long finely-cut nostrils, a clear pale complexion, and well-shaped oval face, terminating in a square-cut chin, a trifle too long for beauty. A slight growth of whiskers and moustache gave him the appearance of a more advanced age. He held in his hand an open book, over which he was poring as he walked. For him certainly the wood had no beauty ; he might as well have trodden a deserted street. As he came with slow steps nearer to the spot where the girl stood, the colour deepened in her cheek, and her great sea-blue eyes suddenly grew shy and lustrous. If any one had been watching, they would not have felt surprised had she turned and fled the next moment; but she did not move, and another bend in the path brought the two face to face. " Good morning, Bell."

The young man just lifted his eyes from the book and nodded to her ; he would have passed on without another word, but she stopped him. "Good morning! Are you going to the Pond, Michael?" It was a pleasure to hear Bell speak, even when she had little to say. Her voice was full and flexible, possessed of those rare musical tones which we hear occasionally among the many harsh, mumbling, inanimate, whining, or monoto nous sounds which break from the lips in speech ; whatever she said had an air and charm about it; she generally spoke in a bright, eager, rather impetuous manner, with little flashing smiles coming and going, and provoking dimples which never stayed long enough to be looked at. " Yes, I am going down to the Pond ; do you want any thing ? " the young man replied, in answer to her question.

Now Bell began to wish most devoutly that she had left the book where she found it, and vowed to herself that she would not touch her neighbours' possessions for the future ; but as it was clasped between her hands, and Michael was far too abstracted to see that or anything else, she was obliged to make her confession. " I don't want anything ; only I have just come from the Hollow, and I found this book. I thought you had forgotten it perhaps. Shall I leave it at the Chalet for you ? I can easily go home that way." "No thank you, I will take it." He put out his hand for it, and pushed the little volume into his coat pocket; then he nodded to her again, and went on his way through the wood. She stood and watched him. Watched till he was out of sight, till she was quite sure he would not come back ; then she let the tears which had been slowly welling up in her eyes fall one after another down her cheeks.

She was not hurt that he had been so abstracted, so unobservant of her ; it was not for that she had been troubled : but she knew well enough the weight which now pressed ceaselessly on his heart was heavier to-day than usual ; she saw it in his mournful eyes. She did not feel the least resentment that he had shown no pleasure at meeting her, though as he had been absent for a week (a great event to Bell), she might naturally have expected some warmer greeting. But it did not disquiet her at all ; she knew there had been other days when he had taken her with him through the wood, when he had gathered nuts for her from the hazel trees, and car ried her over the stream (but that was long ago) where it was too wide for her to cross ; there had been days, too, when he had liked her to sit beside him at the Pond, and when he had poured out some of the trouble of his soul, little thinking probably how she had listened and hoarded every word in the treasure-house of her memory.

He had hinted once, and she had never forgotten it, of that para lysing shadow of doubt which was hiding from him God and heaven, and since then she had prayed for him so con stantly and so earnestly that she confidently believed the shadow would be dispelled. But now she began to be aware of the probable lateness of the hour, and hastening through the wood she soon reached a small latched gate which she unfastened, and went out into a lane. It was one of those pleasant, oldfashioned lanes, shaded by high uneven hedges on either side, where, in the lower places, the cows looked over com placently at her, and a horse whinnied as she passed. She went on by sweet cottage gardens, where the hum of bees was beginning to be heard, and the scent of lilac blossoms was filling all the air, past a lodge seemingly built of honeysuckle, and up a long winding drive between beech and elm trees, till she left the gravelled way and ran across a lawn, and so up some terrace steps, and into the house through an open French window, "Mabel, is that you?" a voice called from an adjoining room — a cold, calm, inflexible voice, which let the words drop slowly one after another, like small metallic weights, into the soul of the listener.

"Yes, mamma," Bell replied, and she crossed an ante room, and pushed open the drawing-room door. It was a spacious room, full of rich fragrance and subdued light. The colouring of the walls was white and gold, with delicately tinted ornamentation, not too lavishly used. Parian marbles, Venetian glass, and painted porcelains filled the room with beauty ; at the further end, within the light of a bay window, the mistress was reclining in a low rocking chair ; she was a tall, grandly-formed woman, with black sunless eyes and resolute mouth. She was dressed in a superbly-fitting silver-grey costume, with delicate lace at her throat and wrists, and little knots of cherry-coloured ribbon here and there. One large firm white hand lay idly in her lap, and upon one finger shone a row of brilliant diamonds.

I find it difficult in describing Mrs. Wrexhill to omit the description of her surroundings, or her dress; the one seems to include the other. There are people who through all their lives demand and receive respect and attention purely on account of their surroundings, with whom the personal me is completely merged in the less inscrutable mine. It is curious to speculate on the probable aspect of such if they were stripped of their social positions, of their houses, and their adornments ; it is not merely that we doubt if we should know them, would they know them selves? When Dame Fortune acts the part of the pedlar, and that in which they lived is " cut round about," they are likely to be reduced to the state of mind in which the poor woman found herself when she exclaimed, " I know 'tisn't I ; " and if any should be rash enough to attempt a proof of identity by returning to the old haunts on the plea of " I've got a little dog at home, and he'll know me," alas for the experiment ! for she of the shortened petticoats will not fail to hear the bark of alienation.

The clothes philosophy is a very subtle one after all. Bell stood at the drawing-room door in her plain attire, thick-laced boots, and broad-brimmed garden hat. The contrast was very marked. Mrs. Wrexhill turned her head with the slightest possible movement towards her daughter, and a shade of annoyance gathered on her brow. "Where can you have been, Mabel?" she asked, with languid disapproval. " In the wood, mamma." " The wood ! " echoed her mother disdainfully, " what a strange fascination that place has for you ! I can't comprehend it at all." "It was lovely there today. Oh, mamma, if you could have seen the larches — " "Yes, yes, I've no doubt. Pray don't be enthusiastic, Mabel, I have such an objection to it." Mrs. Wrexhill rose from her chair, and gathered together some silks with which she had been working. She looked languid and depressed, and one might have heard her sigh heavily as she left the room.

Chapter II

which treats of mabel's relations. HE twilight hour was approaching. The sun had passed westward through pearly gates, and the moon, full-orbed, was already visible in the southern sky. All the air was soft and steamy, as if nature had been plunged into a vast bath, and the vapour was ascending on every side. Some fleecy clouds floated south ward on the still air like a flight of heavenly birds, appearing in their passage across the moon to brood over it with fair soft bosoms, as over some golden nest, bathed for a moment in a flood of opal-tinted light, then spread their white wings again, and drifted far away into the fathomless night. It was the hour when once God walked with man on earth ; the hour for high thought and pure resolve ; the hour when heaven comes near to us, and death loses its terror.

Mr. Wrexhill was leaning back in his dog-cart, smoking his cigar ; his arms were crossed over his breast, and his head inclined carelessly to one side It was a large head, and it seemed quite natural that it should droop a little as he rested ; a large head, with a narrow, flat, rather shelving forehead, small, shrewd eyes of a cold grey tint, shaded by bushy eyebrows; a voluminous nose, and leaden coloured, flabby cheeks. His upper lip was thin, the under one loosely hung ; and beneath all was a large, smoothlyshaven, square chin. Not the man, one would fancy, over whom romantic dreams or passionate love would be lavished, and yet — The door of the manor house is softly opened, and a girlish figure in white evening dress, with a shawl wrapped about her shoulders, steals quietly out, and closes the door behind her.

Once free of the house, she bounds down the terrace steps and away over the lawn, dress and sash and hair floating out behind her in the warm air ; till she has gained the drive, and steals down it among the great trees like one of the long-forgotten elves. She came here every evening at the same hour, while the dog-cart was travelling between Norley and Crassmoor, and every evening she went through the same ceremony. At a certain bend in the drive stood a beech tree, of such ac commodating nature that Bell found no difficulty in en sconcing herself among the lower branches. Here, almost hidden by the leaves, she lay, curled up like a dormouse, her elbows resting on a bough, and her soft round cheek comfortably cushioned on the palm of her hand. Minute after minute passed slowly away. Scarcely a leaf moved in the heavy air ; once a sleepless bird flew by, and was lost in the dusk ; a few long quivering notes came from a nightingale in the low damp meadows beyond the river ; the night moths spread their soft downy wings, and began to prepare for their dark voyage ; and far away, a star shone in the pale sky, as if it too were keeping watch with the small white figure among the shadows.

At last the lodge gates swung back — heavy iron gates which were given to groaning as they moved — and then up the drive came the clear ringing sound of a horse's hoofs, nearer and nearer to the haunted beech tree, still nearer, till the dog cart passed beneath it. The supreme moment had arrived. Still leaning back, with folded arms, the remnant of a cigar held between his lips, Mr. Wrexhill sat, quite uncon scious that just above his head two dark, loving eyes were shining down upon him, and a hand, a little sunburnt hand, was throwing him kisses by the dozen. The horse, impatient for his oats, hurried onwards, and as the dog-cart passed, a voice that no one heard whispered among the dewy beech leaves, " Papa, dearest papa. God bless you, papa ! " Then all was over once more ; Bell descended from her throne, and slipped back among the shadows to the house.

Miss Lee, Mabel's governess, had gone to spend the evening in the village ; several guests were expected at Wrexhill Manor to dinner, and Bell knew that she would not be sent for till a late hour. She amused herself for a time by standing on the corridor, and watching the arrivals over the balustrade. That entertainment over, and the business of dinner commenced, she went back to the school room to learn her lessons for the next day ; not a difficult task, for Miss Lee was seldom given to taxing her own or her pupil's brains. Had Bell depended upon her for education, I fear she must have fared but badly. Happily, it was otherwise. Of book knowledge, I am free to confess, she had only a scanty share ; but is that of such vital consequence where all things teach? The woods, the birds, the running waters, the simple cottagers, with their homely words of experimental wisdom, the storms and the sunshine all combined to teach her, and Michael Dorne, with his grave sad spirit, opened for her depths which no German grammar or Greek lexicon can fathom ; above all, she had much leisure in which to listen to the still small voice of God.

So that I think this only daughter of the house, about whom some people whispered of neglect, fared not badly after all. The lessons learnt, and the books put away with a sigh of relief, she was free to do what she would; and freedom was the very soul of life to Bell. She went out into the corridor again, along the soft-carpeted floor, till she came near a room where the door stood slightly ajar ; this room was the one spot in the universe that Mabel feared. She stole up to it on tip-toe, gathering the folds of her dress about her, lest the extreme edge of flounce or sash should touch a panel of the door, or brush against the sides of the wall. Very slowly, step by step, she crept on till she was safely past it ; then she stole down three steps, and turning into a side passage, she opened the door of a large spare bedroom.

It was called the drab room, from the colour of its hangings and furniture, which were all of the same dull shade. It was a room that was occupied only when the house was very full of guests, and had all the dreary, de serted appearance of a chamber that is seldom used. A week's dust lay on the mirrors ; a spider had spun its web from the locked wardrobe to the mantel-piece ; a mouse squeaked behind the wainscot. No one, except the under housemaid, had entered the room for months, save this little silent visitor ; and nothing could have persuaded Bell to go to sleep without making nightly pilgrimage to the drab bedroom. She drew up the window blind, and proceeded to un fasten and open the window; having done this, she brought forward a stool, and kneeling upon it, planted her elbows on the high sill, and looked out into the night.

It was a favourable evening for her purpose. The moon, that "saint sister" of the earth, was shining in a cloudless sky; no breath of wind was stirring; the trees stood like sentinels about the house ; and far away, beyond the trees, and be yond the level meadows, a trained ear might have faintly discerned the slow rise and fall of waves upon the beach. On stormy nights the rush and drag of the pebbles was distinctly audible ; but on calm summer evenings there was no sound, save this low-toned murmur, as of wind among the trees. One star, one large, clear, tremulous star, shone like a celestial lighthouse, above a belt of fir trees; and within the shadow of the trees, not yet reached by the moon beams, another light gleamed out, smaller, dimmer, more tremulous, from a still uncurtained window.

Upon this lower light all Bell's attention was fixed ; she knelt in the silence and loneliness of the dark drab room, watching, as one might imagine a guardian-angel to watch, out of the sombre shadows of the night. And she did not appear less satisfied with her station than we imagine the ministering spirits to be. She was not conscious of any restless desire to be nearer ; she rather thought how fortunate a thing it was that one of the windows of the manor looked westward, and that it should chance to be an unused room, where she could go so easily each evening. She thought how pleasant a thing it was that the little chalet among the trees should be occupied by those she loved, and how nice that Michael Dorne had chosen for his study a room which faced that window; and though she knew very little herself, she liked to think as she knelt there in the dark, how much he was learning night after night, how clever he was growing, how great he would be one day.

The waves rose and fell upon the beach, the trees stood up tall and straight beneath the moon, the celestial light house glowed and trembled in its blue depths, and the little figure in white still knelt at the dark window, sending a thousand sweet and tender thoughts across the night to Michael. Do all such gentle influences fall short of the object we would reach? I am not sure. By and by Bell got up, and closed and re-fastened the window, then she drew down the curtain, and placed the stool in its accustomed niche against the wall. Shutting the door softly behind her, she went back into the lighted corridor, past the dreaded room which she managed more easily now, the door being closed, and so hastened on till she reached her own bedroom, where she found a servant waiting for her, busying herself in re-arranging some lace till her little mistress should arrive.

The girl lifted her face from the work as Bell entered ; it was as sweet and pleasant as an apple blossom — a Suffolk geniting apple blossom — with the rosy flush pre dominating. " Miss Mabel dear, you should have come before. I've been thinking every moment you'd be sent for, and then not ready." " Oh, they'll be a long time at dinner to-night ; there's quite a party, Doxey." "Lawk, bless you, miss ! me and Bessie watched them go in. Mrs. De Lacey was dressed just lovely; there's no mistaking." " I know ; I saw them over the balusters. Oh, Doxey, you're not going to do my hair all over again? " " Indeed, and I am, miss. Why, your curls are tangled one in another, as if I'd never got them out into ringlets. I shall be fine and sorry when you put your hair up though; I'd like to see the young lady as could hold a candle to your head.