The Occupations of a Retired Life. A novel. By E. G

Front matter

THE OCCUPATIONS OF A RETIRED LIFE. VOL. THE OCCUPATIONS OF A RETIRED LIFE. $ Icbxl. By EDWARD GARRETT. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. HI. LONDON : TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND. 1868. [All rights of Translation and Reproduction are reserved.'] LONDON: SAVILL, EDWARDS AND CO., PRINTERS, OHANDOS STREET, COVENT GARDEN. CONTENTS or THE THIRD VOLUME. CHAP. PABB. I. ewen's holidays 1 II. A PROGRAMME 23 III. COMING EVENTS AND SHADOWS BEFORE ... 47 IV. AN ANONYMOUS

LETTER 70

V. A QUESTION ANSWERED 89 VI. A HOUSEHOLD SKELETON 108 VII. EWEN 142 VIII. THE HOUSE BEHIND ST. CROSS 156 IX. PRO AND CON 174 X. THE HISTORY OF THE MYSTERY 196 XI. THE JUSTICE ROOM 222 XII. A WEDDING WITH BELLS 231 XIII. A WEDDING WITHOUT BELLS A RETIRED LIFE.

Chapter I

ewen's holidays. It proved that Ewen's holidays were not only later, but also shorter, than he had ex pected. The exigencies of business would only allow him a few days. So one fine autumn morning shortly after our meeting with Mr. Weston, Alice came very early to our house to say tbat be had arrived at tbe Befuge late the nigbt before. I thought her visit rather odd, as her brother would be sure to announce himself a few hours later. It was the first time we had seen her since 1 VOL. Mr. Weston's tidings, and despite her joy at Ewen's visit, she looked rather pale and grave, and so recalled all my first impres sions of her. When she prepared to go away, Buth followed her from the room, and presently I heard them in the next apart ment, speaking in earnest whispers. At last the hall-door closed, I saw Alice go down the garden path, and then my sister re-appeared.

" Can you guess why she came ?" she inquired. " No," 1 answered, " but I can guess she did not come without an object." " She came to ask us not to name Mr. Weston to Ewen," replied my sister, in that whisper which comes so naturally when any secresy is enjoined. " I can understand all her reasons," I said. " It is a beautiful piece of unselfish ness. But I wish she had forgotten to en join our silence, for then I should have spoken. Now we must decidedly yield to her wishes." " And the poor girl is fretting dreadfully about the change in her brother," Ruth went on. " It makes me quite anxious to see him." " Oh, Alice forgets that he has been living a sedentary town life," I replied ; " and be sides, Ewen's is not the style of face which ever displays robust health, once the first bloom of boyhood is past."

So all the morning I sat at home waiting for him. But he did not come. When dinner time came and passed, without his appearance, I grew a little vexed. And when Ruth broadly took his part, and in vented such good reasons for his nonarrival, I grew vexed with her also. " Tou would not like it if I fidgeted you because Agnes Herbert neglects me," said Ruth, pointedly. " And she has never been here to tea since the night when Alice showed us those pictures." 1—2 I bad no answer to make, but after dinner I went out, saying to myself that if everybody had forgotten the old man, he would at least take care of himself, and get a little fresh air. That is not often my train of thought, and I am very glad of it, for I found it was not at all conducive to happiness, and I went along grumbling to myself at a fine rate.

I took my usual route through the meadows flanking the road to the village. Between their bordering of trees, now lightened of half their wealth of leaves, I caught glimpses of the Great Farm. But in the field immediately facing the house (it was the one behind the Low Meadow), I almost started to see him whose apparent negligence had thus put me out of temper. He stood, leaning against a tree upon a slight elevation. His arms were folded, and he was so wrapt in gloomy reverie, that he did not observe my approach. When he did so, he started, and then stepped forward to meet me. All my pique vanished when I saw bis face. If it struck me as sharpened and wan when I saw him in his twilight garret, after a day spent in crowds of faded London faces, it now seemed tenfold so, as I saw it under the trees, facing the glowing sunset.

Nay, more, he wore a look of acute pain, no mere fleeting expression, but one which had lasted long enough to fix a hard line about his mouth, which was not even broken by his smile. His face recalled the face of a com panion of my early manhood, who under went a severe surgical operation. The sufferer endured without groan or sigh, but his countenance bore the stamp of that an guish till the day be died, years afterwards. " Alice has told me about the knife which George Wilniot found in this field," he re marked presently. I glanced at him, thinking that perhaps the revival of painful associations had something to do with the look he wore, but, on the contrary, his face seemed to clear as he went on. " I am very glad of its discovery.' " Why so, in particular ?" I asked, quietly. " Every httle detail throws light on the story," he answered, rather dreamily.

" This does not enlighten me at all," I said. " No," he replied, " but any item may tend to disprove or to prove anything that is said." " What is said ?" I inquired, testily. " Oh nothing," he answered, in some confusion. His manner perplexed me. If he had spoken with such embarrassment during our first interview on the hill overlooking the river, I should have doubted bis innocence. Even now, my confidence shook just a little, and we walked side by side in silence. "That is the door of the Great Farm," he said, suddenly turning in its direction as a slight sound met my ear, so trifling and distant that I scarcely noticed it. " You seem to know it well," I observed. " You remember I once worked round the house, sir," he replied, with almost a dash of haughtiness in his manner. " I think Miss Herbert and her dog Griff are coming this way, sir." So we stood still and waited for them.

The great, substantial grey dog, her con stant attendant, came bounding towards us, but instead of paying his usual compli ments to me, he leaped upon Ewen, and overwhelmed him with the most demon strative professions of regard. His mistress came up almost breathless. " Oh, it is you," she said when she saw Ewen, and there was a disappointed sound in her voice which was not at all complimentary to the young man. " Griff seems to recognise you," she added, more graci ously. " He recognises something," he replied, caressing the dog. " Griff, Griff, poor, faithful old fellow !" " And how are you going on in London, my boy ?" I asked presently ; " as well as before, I hope." "Oh, yes, sir," he answered. "I wrote you that my salary was raised at Midsummer." " Yes," I returned, " and I knew it beforehand.

But what are you doing as an artist?" Ewen was on my right hand, and Miss Herbert on my left. She bent a little for ward as I asked this question, and he rather drew back, and replied very precisely — " I succeed better than I hoped. I have illustrated one or two poems in some journals." " I hope they pay you well," I said. " I am satisfied, sir," he answered, with a slight smile. "Beginners often fare badly," I said, shaking my wise head ; " however well they work, they are generally paid only as beginners." " Then there's something to look forward to," replied the young man, with one of those quick turns by which he sometimes reminded me of my sister. " Oh, I find people very kind," he went on ; " and they are more ready to notice things than one would believe. A gentle man whose poem I illustrated, asked about me, and invited me to his house, and then he called on me and looked over all my drawings, and then he asked us to a little party of young artists and authors.

He is a well-born, wealthy gentleman, who can afford to show these kindnesses." A°:nes listened with intense interest. "Does Mr. Ralph illustrate, too?" I asked. " Yes, and he does it beautifully," Ewen answered. "Yet the gentleman did not notice his work," I said, slily, " and so Mr. Ralph had to wait for his invitation till he made his personal acquaintance." I wanted to put the young man on his mettle in defence of his friend, and I did not fail. " His oversight was only an accident," he answered, eagerly. " Did he see Mr. Ralph's drawings when he visited you?" I inquired. " Mr. Ralph did not offer to show them," said Ewen. " Very well, my boy," I returned ; " but whether it was his own fault or not, your invitation was earned and his was only honorary." "The gentleman could see Mr. Ralph was his equal," returned Ewen, with his strange new dignity of manner.

" His presence at his house would not need the expla nation that he had drawn this, or written that." "And how is Mr. Ralph?" I inquired presently. " He is much better, sir, and he sent his most dutiful regards to you," he replied, re turning to his old simple manner. " I'm afraid Miss Herbert thinks us rather rude," I said ; " our conversation must be a riddle to her. Let me explain, my dear, that Mr. Ralph is a young artist who lives with our friend here, and who seems to have seen a great deal of trouble." "Indeed!" said Agnes. "Griff, Griff, come away, sir. You are quite troublesome to Mr. M'Callum. Really, sir," she added, bending forward and addressing Ewen, " he seems as if he thought you had seen some friend of his, and so leaped up to whisper in quiries in your ear. See, up he goes again !

Griff, Griff, come away !" Her wordswere simple and natural enough, though she seldom said as much to a com parative stranger ; but she spoke with a sin gular formality and emphasis, and presently as if she thought she had not shown suffi cient interest in my explanation, she re marked — " ' Ralph ' sounds odd for a surname. It is much more natural as a Christian one." "Yes, certainly it is," replied Ewen, with a warmth of assent quite beyond tbe sub ject. "And how do you like London?" she asked in a few minutes, and without waiting for a reply, added another question. " Have you ever met any one you knew before ?" I answered for him. " I know he has met one, for he had some old acquaintance with this very Mr. Ralph." "Yes, I knew Ralph before," he assented, for the first time naming his friend without the prefix "Mr." " Ralph thinks of going abroad next spring," he stated presently.

" Going abroad !" exclaimed Agnes, so sharply that I started. " Does he think he will find more scope in a new country?" I inquired. Ewen shook his head. " I fear he will go only because be is weary of tbe old country," he replied. " Poor fellow, I own he acted foolishly in some things, but he has been punished as if folly were a sin, and the shadow of all he has lost hangs constantly over him. He fancies he will escape it. I think it will go with him. But, as he says, at any rate Australia or Canada will be as home-like as England is now, and there is not one who will suffer by his departure." " But suppose he is mistaken in all this !" exclaimed Agnes, in a voice full of tears. Poor girl, I knew her sympathetic and emo tional nature ! " I tell him he is mistaken," said Ewen, THE OCCUPATIONS OP with earnest solemnity, " but I only wish I could prove it to him."

And then we wandered on in silence, till I broke the spell by claiming Ewen's com pany for my sister's tea-table, and informing Miss Herbert that Ruth made certain com ments about her long absence from our house. Agnes replied that she should come to see us in a day or two, and she would come oftener only she feared to be trouble some. She made this answer with a bright, eager look on her sweet face, and then she turned to Ewen, and said in that pretty peti tioning tone which women use when they have some dear little trifling request to make — " Mr. M'Callum, I have long wished to write to a dear friend in London, but I do not know the exact address. If I direct it as well as I can, and send it to the Refuge under cover to you, will you, if possible, supply the omissions of my super scription ?

I think you will be able." " Certainly I will do what I can," he an swered, as if he sincerely felt the commonplace commission to be an honour and a pleasure. Then they shook hands, — a regular hearty, honest shake. And she turned away, calling the reluctant Griff to follow her. It was nearly tea-time when Ruth welcomed our young guest. We partook of the meal in the twilight, for it was a very fine evening, without that autumnal murk and chill which makes artificial light and artificial heat alike grateful. The young man seemed to have recovered his spirits, and consequently his face had lost that hag gard hunger which had so startled me at our first meeting. Nevertheless, when tbe lamp was at last brought in, and Ruth took up her knitting, I saw she stole many a glance at him, as we sat conversing about his promotions, and the cheerful prospect before him.

Suddenly she said — " Don't let the bustle of London life make you an old man before your time Ewen." He laughed, a little constrainedly. " Do you see any symptoms, ma'am ?" he queried, lightly. " Yes," answered my candid sister. " You are nearly ten years older since this time last year. Now I should not speak of this, if it were anything you could not help, but I believe it can be helped. Nobody has any right to be spendthrift in his energies and emotions." " But, Ruth," I said, " business some times compels " " I don't say any one is not to be ' diligent in business,' ' she interrupted. " But I believe the methodical exercise energy gets in business proves only strengthening de velopment, at least while energy is young and fresh. And besides, if it be spent for any adequate return, it is well spent.

If a clock wear out in keeping time, it has done its work. But if it be worn out, by the hands whirling round the dial sixty times a day, then it is wasted. And so is all energy expended in emotion." " Ruth," I exclaimed, " do you mean that one may prevent himself suffering ?" " Yes, I do," she answered ■ " at least to a certain degree. Mental pain is subject to the same conditions as bodily pain, which any one can either alleviate or aggravate. If a man unbinds a wound, and thinks about it, and reads about his disease, and twists the hurt limb to test the extent of the injury, he suffers for it. So if a man sets up a sorrow as a shrine where he may worship, and walks round it to survey it from all sides, and draws all his life about it, and reads fiction and poetry to see what others say of the same, then he also suffers for it."

" But sorrow should scarcely be shunned like a sin," I said. .1 VOL. "And it should not be courted like a virtue," she returned. " God-sent sorrow is an angel in mourning. But any sorrow which we may rightfully escape, is not God sent. Sometimes, in old days, I've wished to cry, but couldn't, because I had to go into the shop. And by the time the shop was closed I was braver, and did not want to cry." " But the tears would have been a relief," I said, " and you certainly suffered no less because they might not come." " But I was stronger for the self-control," she answered, " and you remember — ' Not enjoyment and not sorrow Is our destined end or way : But to act, that each to-morrow Finds us farther than to-day.' But though I quote poetry," she added, turning to Ewen with a smile, " I don't advise you to read it.

It's not that you want now. Build with granite before you clothe with creepers. Bead Bacon, and Mon taigne, and Rollin, and Shakspeare. He's a poet, you say? Yes, my dear, but he's a dramatist. He does not tell us how bitterly he feared Anne Hathaway would reject him. He says nothing about himself. He was above it, he had better things to say. So he don't make us, his readers, think of our selves, rather he lifts us out of self. But leave all other poets till you are growing bald, then you will want them to remind you of what you were. If they moisten your eyes then, it will do you good. Why, Mr. M'Callum," she said, pointing to our book case, "there are books on those shelves which I have never dared to read since I was eighteen until — not very long ago !" My dear, enduring sister ! Ewen stayed with us that night until nine o'clock, and we saw him two or three times afterwards during his brief holidays.

But that visit was the only lengthened one 2-3 which he paid us. For I would not give him a set invitation, as I knew his puncti lious conscientiousness would accept it, however much he might prefer the society of his grandfather and sister. But I met him in my walks, and one day, as we were strolling down a lane, rather silently, it occurred to me to inquire if Miss Herbert bad forwarded her promised letter. " Yes," he answered, so briskly that I thought he was about to make some further remark, but he did not. " And I hope you can help her with the address ?" I said. " The letter has reached its destination by this time," he replied. " I am glad of it," I observed, just for the sake of politeness. " So am I," he responded, rather drily " Miss Herbert is a very lovely girl," I went on in my prim old-fashioned way, " but having spent so much of her life in London, I almost think she suffers from the mono tony of country existence."

" Perhaps she does," said Ewen, " but though one can see when something is wrong, it is hard to guess rightly what it is. Now, I see there is something amiss with Alice, and yet I supposed Alice was so happy !" " And so she is," I answered, " only, as the healthiest are sometimes ailing, so the happiest are sometimes sad. Life, like a portrait, must have its shadows. But the good are never miserable, though they may suffer very keenly through the sins of others, or for their sakes." " Ay, and how far may that suffering ex tend ?" he asked, rather bitterly. "Never farther than the valley of the shadow of death," I answered. That was the last time I saw Ewen before he returned to London. On the day of his departure, I proposed that we should take a walk towards the station, and so have a chance of seeing the last of him. But Ruth said " No, leave him to his own rela tions. Partings are long remembered, and so they may like to remember they had it all to themselves.''

Chapter II

A PROGRAMME. That year we enjoyed a singularly fine autumn, with but little mist or moisture ; consequently it was a healthy season, and the resources of our little hospital were not prematurely tried. Also, it furthered the speedy and satisfactory completion of the Refuge Orphan rooms, which were at last put in perfect readiness for any who might need them during the coming months. Over these things Ruth and I had many a quiet chat in the dusky twilight of our par lour, and we thanked God we had not quite done with the world, however the world had done with us. When I say " world," reader, I do not mean that narrow crust of society which is often implied thereby. I mean God's whole creation, "the earth and the fulness thereof." Nevertheless we were rather lonely that autumn. We saw nothing of Mr. Weston after our memorable interview in the meadows.

He did not come again to St. Cross, but in the course of some incidental conversation, I heard with regret that he had been seen at the Puseyite church at Hopleigh. But it was still early in October when Mr. Marten paid us an afternoon call, and promptly accepted our invitation to tea. And though he stated he had a little difficulty which he wished to discuss with us, he looked so flourishing and content, that it was very plain the " difficulty" gave him noundue disturbance. Indeed, it proved to be only a feeling on his part that it was the duty of the leaders in the parish in some way to direct their juniors' evening occupations and amusements during the coming winter. " In short," he went on, " if St. Cross is to maintain its ground, we must certainly do something. Tbe Hopleigh people are very energetic in this matter.

They have esta blished a series of lectures, penny readings, &c, varied with entertainments, and soirees, and concerts. Besides these, they have opened classes, presenting a very attractive course of study for almost nominal fees." Just then I happened to glance at Buth behind the tea-urn, and I saw a storm ga thering in her face. When Mr. Marten ceased, there was an ominous pause. Then Ruth said, grimly — " If you give children sugar-plums every day, they are never a treat, and they spoil their teeth into the bargain. That's a figure of speech for you, Mr. Marten." " Why, Miss Garrett," exclaimed the rector, " surely you don't disapprove of innocent and improving recreations ?" " I disapprove of ' gadding about,' " she answered, severely. "I disapprove of everything which makes folks at home when they are out, and strangers when they are at home.

In short, I disapprove of dissipation, what ever mask it may wear." " I hope you don't see things in this light, sir," said Mr. Marten, turning to me. "Not altogether," I replied, " but I am a slow person, and I weigh matters very leisurely." " I wonder what had become of my business if I had taken to lectures, and classes, and so forth !" exclaimed my sister. " Ruth, Ruth," I said, gently, " remember that we must not carry our personalities too far in these affairs." " Well, it's one way of getting at a bit of truth," she returned, " and I always fear to advise others to do what I never did mvself. It's like holding out a cup and saying, ' I know that would poison me, but I think it will be good medicine for you.' ' " You must remember, Miss Garrett," said the rector, " that some homes are not very attractive.

Think of the many one-roomed homes, with few books and no intelligent conversation." " Mr. Marten, Mr. Marten," I repeated warningly, " has that good song gone out of fashion, — Be it ever so homely, There's no place like home ?' But at the same time I willingly grant that home is often all the dearer for short ab sences, even as such short absences are more enjoyable for the sake of the dear home where they will end." " And again," Mr. Marten went on, in clining his head in acknowledgment of my words, " there are many young people who are utterly homeless." "That is true," said Buth, "but for the sake of the future they should be encouraged as much as possible to form homely habits. If bachelors or spinsters cannot settle to books or work in their lonely rooms, I fear they will fret at the stay-at-home ways of comfortable matrimony, when once its no velty has worn off."

" Well, I'm sorry to find you see another side to this matter," observed the rector ; "for to me, these evening lectures and classes seemed such a splendid means for mental improvement and moral eleva tion." " Can you give us any details of the Hop leigh programme ?" I inquired ; " for until one knows all, one may differ about theories rather than facts." " Oh, I can tell you all about it," he re sponded, briskly tugging at his pocket. " See ! I came armed with all necessary do cuments !" and he produced sundry printed bills, and spread them out on the table. " Take one by one, and read each aloud, please," requested Ruth, suddenly shifting her knitting needles and beginning another row. I have a strange notion that my sister's knitting is to her strength of mind, some thing like Samson's hair to his bodily prowess.

Whenever we two are in argument, I have a wild wish to snatch that mysterious web from her agile fingers. Besides, its very continuance daunts one with the reproach — " Behold, in spite of all your idle clatter, these needles go on, and so does the world !" "Which shall I take first ?" queried the rector. " There are a prospectus of the classes, a programme of the lectures, and a list of the discussions." " Read whichever you like," said I. " Then I'll read the paper of the classes," he answered ; and so began the sheet with its very heading : — " Hopleigh College. Under this name, it is proposed to establish a course of evening classes. The subjects chosen, with the names of the gentlemen who have kindly undertaken to teach them, will recommend themselves. Monday, Latin and English Composition (by Mr. SeneccaMoon); Tuesday, French (by M. Vert) ; Wednesday, Ele mentary Singing ; Thursday, Writing and Arithmetic (by Mr. Senecca Moon) ; Friday, Beading and Elocution (by Mr. O'Toole) ; Saturday, Advanced Singing.

Hours from eight to ten o'clock. Fee for one class, two shillings each month • for the whole course, eight shillings. Entrance fee, one shilling. Intending members are invited to enrol as soon as possible. Under the especial pa tronage of the Rev. Ambrose Angelo, Rector of S. Cyprian, Hopleigh." " You see, Miss Garrett," the rector com mented, when he had finished, "this is not even innocent recreation, but improving study." " I doubt whether it is either ' improving" or 'study,' " she answered, taking up his words a little tartly. " I suppose girls are included in these classes. I wonder if the clergyman would like his own daughter to run through the streets after nightfall in that way." " A distinction must be made between certain ranks, madam," returned Mr. Marten, rather stiffly. " That is what I always say," assented Ruth.

" But let the distinction be in ac quirements rather than in manners or morals !" " But some of these classes go to the very rudiments of education," pursued the rector : " reading, for instance, and writing and arithmetic. If by some evil chance these were neglected in childhood, would you suffer the girl or boy to go on in ignorance, Miss Garrett ?" She answered thoughtfully, " No : reading and writing are almost like two extra senses. They are worth some sacrifice. But what poor servant girl, sensible in spite of her ignorance, would venture to ' Hopleigh College ?' And would she study A B C in the first hour, and then learn how to spout ' My name is Norval' during the remainder of the time ? And would she be much at ease in the society of the smart shop-girls, who would come to practise rant, and who would attend the French and Latin classes on the other evenings ?"

" But I think these institutions are really for the benefit of a higher class than common servants or ploughboys," said Mr. Marten, " and for such how serviceable is French, and how useful the power of writing a cor rect letter !" " Thorough French is a valuable acquire ment," returned Ruth, " and a good letter is a sure sign of a sound education. But mere ' lingo' is ridiculous, and a ' phrase' epistle is an abomination. Perhaps you will add, that even superficial French may be useful in business ; but if poor M. Vert is willing to teach it for two shillings a month, can the scholars expect to make it more profitable than the master ?" " But M. Vert, who is a working professor, would not teach at that rate, except for a consolation-fee from the committee," ex claimed the rector. " I hate that false method of cheapening good things," answered my sister.