Cousin Ned

Preface

. In publishing this book a few words of explanation have been thought necessary. Last year a peculiarly pathetic interest was attached to the story of " Little Miss Wardlaw," by the same writer, as people realized, while reading the book, that it was the last the authoress would write ; and that, before the Christmas came for which it was published, she had finished her work on earth and had entered into rest. It is now five years since Miss Gray wrote the story of " Cousin Ned " — and latterly she seemed to have given up the idea of publishing it. The MS., however, she kept — and those with whom it was left do not feel justified now in withholding it longer; especially as they feel sure the many girls who have read Miss Gray's other books and loved her heroines, will recognize in Winnie Maxwell one of themselves, and will welcome her as they did Marian Grant.

VI PltEFACE. In the belief that it is one of the best books Miss Gray wrote, " Cousin Ned " is offered to the public now by her who has been the friend of its authoress from childhood upwards, and to whom she dedicated " Ada and Gerty," her first book and, in loving memory of a debt of gratitude, which far exceeds even the knowledge of the debtor, by one of the two little girls to whom that first story was told before ever it was written. October, 1889.

Chapter I

Often I think of the beautiful town That is seated by the sea ; Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets of that dear old town, And my youth comes back to me. — Lo N GF EL LOW. s~\ PAPA ! See what nice things Winnie has brought home ! " " A present for everybody, papa ! " " Isn't it good of her, papa ? " " Isn't she a good, kind Winnie ? " Four happy little mortals in a high state of excitement were capering round the table by which their elder sister stood smiling, and unrolling parcel after parcel. The father, whose entrance had been hailed by the four eager appeals for sympathy, shut the door behind him rather heavily, and came to the little group in the centre of the room, an open newspaper in his hand. " What are you children doing here with your noise ? " he asked with a sort of good-humoured roughness.

"You ought to be in the nursery, or else out of doors ; this is not a day to be boxed up in the house. — And what's all this nonsense ? — Toys ? — Rubbish ! Tut, tut. They will be all broken in a couple of day's time. Winnie, my girl, A I'm sorry you hadn't more sense than to go and spend your money on such trash." "It was my money, you know," said the girl called Winnie, speaking pleasantly, and yet with a certain distinct decision ; " and I didn't spend very much after all upon these things." She went on with her operations calmly, under the impatient eyes that watched her ; unfastening and examining packages large and small ; wrapping up some again, as not wanted at present, opening others up fully to the view of the children. But the children had shrunk suddenly into themselves, and stood huddled together like sheep, communicating their joy only to each other in whispers.

The outburst with which they had greeted their father had been caused by a brief triumph of the persistent hopefulness of youth over the lessons taught by long experience. Their hopes, as often before, were now utterly quenched, and their small minds were occu pied with much more reasonable fears ; they were in terror lest they should be sent out of the room before Winnie had displayed all her treasures — sent out of the room, perhaps, without their own presents ! Their fears seemed to be shared by their mother, a pretty, small-featured, rather worn-looking little woman, with a nervous, deprecating manner. " Oh, papa," she said, addressing her husband as the children addressed him, " I wish you saw all the useful things Winnie has brought ! They are all upstairs ; we unpacked them there, because we knew you wouldn't like a mess made of the drawing room.

But, indeed, they wouldn't have made a mess of the drawing-room — a most beautiful shawl she got for me in London, and stuff to make frocks for the little girls ; and nice hats — oh, very useful things. So kind of Winnie to get them ; but I know it's such a pleasure to her to do it I don't thank her very much. You know that, don't you, Winnie ? " " Oh, yes, mamma. Don't thank me." " Shawls ? bonnets ? coats ? That's something more like the thing. If you want to give these bairns presents give them something that they can get some good out of. But where's the sense of throwing away your money on a thing like that ? " Here the forefinger of a very broad, large hand was pointed with scorn unutterable at a French jointed doll which the eldest little girl was finger ing with tenderest, almost awe-stricken care.

" Just tell me now, Winnie, as a matter of pure curiosity — of pure curiosity, my girl — how much you paid for that stupid puppet thing, just to make that idle lassie of mine idler than she was before ? " " It cost less than a shawl or a bonnet," said Winnie, while her little sister gasped out in an agony, clasping her doll suddenly in her arms, " I'm not idle now, papa ! I haven't been booby in my class for a week ! " " Keep it up then, Janet. Let me see if you can keep it up," said her father. " I'll give you a different character after a year of good conduct." " Janet will surely be good now that kind, kind Winnie has brought her so many pretty things," put in the depre cating little mother ; and so will Mamie be ; and the boys too. And if to-morrow is a fine day they'll have on their nice new hats, and papa will be pleased to see his little children so tidy and neat on Sunday — " " On Sabbath, if you please, Mrs. Hamilton.

When do you find Sunday mentioned in the Bible ? I'll give any of you children half-a-crown if you show me the chapter and verse." The ever-unsuspicious children became alert and hopeful, and looked at each other with thoughts of Concordances. " And if these bairns are to have new hats to go to church with, I say, let them be as tidy and neat as you like ; the tidier and neater the better ; but I hope I'll see no falals about them, or tags, or bits of finery. I will have none of that sort of non sense about my children." " The hats are very simple," said Mrs. Hamilton, " very very simple, papa. But they are Winnie's choice, you know, and," she added, after a little hesitation and an anxious little laugh, " we can't expect a young girl's tastes to be as sober as her mother's." " Ha ! ha ! ha !

" laughed Mr. Hamilton loudly. " That's good. I'll warrant your tastes are as fine as your daughter's any day, and as extravagant too, if you got the chance, Mrs. Hamilton." And then the father stalked away from the family group, and, seating himself in a large armchair at the other end of the room, began busily to read the news paper. He was not at all in ill humour, as such a term was understood in reference to him ; yet when he informed the children before turning to the leading article, that " if one of them said a loud word they should all tramp out of the room that instant," his listeners had not the slightest doubt his threat would be fulfilled exactly. As soon as Mr. Hamilton's eyes were screened by his paper, his wife looked wistfully at Winnie, who answered her mute inquiry by saying, "Of course you must use my presents just as they are given, or you will be very unkind.

Now, mamma, the feathers are not to be taken out of these hats." Mrs. Hamdton sighed. She was one of the most biddable women in the world, but the contradictory commands of her husband and daughter made obedience sometimes a perplexing task. " Winnie," she said, now in a pleading whisper, " you brought a present for papa, didn't you ? Give it to him now." " Yes, to be sure ; I had forgotten. Where are those carved things ? Ah, here. Dont handle these chalets, children ; they are easily broken. Mr. Hamilton, 1 brought you an inkstand and a paper-knife. I hop*e you will like them. Are they useful enough ? " As Winnie crossed the room with her gifts, smiling as she spoke, her stepfather lowered his paper a little, and looked at her over it. " Mr. Hamilton ? Who's that ? " said he. " Well, papa, then," said Winnie, for the first time with some impatience of look and manner.

" That's better. What are you wanting with me ? " " I have brought you these things as a present from Switzerland ; they are rather neat, I think. It was very difficult to think of anything you would like." Mr. Hamilton, without laying down his newspaper, took one of the pretty bits of carving in his left hand, and turned it over. " Very nice, lassie, but rather gimcrack. So that's the sort of play-work they do in Switzerland. Poor lazy folks ! " Mr. Hamilton and Winnie were both facing an open window which looked into a bit of walled garden at the back of the house. The latch of the gate there clicked at that moment, and Winnie's gifts were forgotten. " Hallo, who's this ? Monstrous that people will insist in coming to the house that way ! Insufferable impertinence I call it !* I will have that garden-door kept permanently locked !

" " It's Mr. Dunbar," said Winnie. " Surely he may come by the garden-door, or any way he likes to — this house." " Mr. Dunbar is it ? " said Mr. Hamilton, who must have perceived the fact before he had finished his last speech, as the person in question was now half across the grass plot on his way to the house. " Well ! I suppose we must make a single exception in favour of Mr. Dunbar. We will feel highly honoured when Mr. Dunbar comes at all, Miss Winnie ; he hasn't crossed the door for months." " Yes ; he came once or twice to see me when Winnie was away," said Mrs. Hamilton. " Papa, he's come to see Winnie, and I know you want to read your paper. Slip quietly away to the study before he comes upstairs." " Come to see Winnie, has he ? By all means let him see Winnie then, if her own mother can't be allowed to look after her for a single day without his help.

He is welcome to see Winnie when he chooses, but he can scarcely expect me to clear out of the room. No, I'm not going to the study." Mrs. Hamilton shook her head with a helpless pathetic look at her daughter, which remained unanswered. Winnie's face wore the expression that always made her mother uneasy ; the firmness of her mouth aud chin was unsoftened now by the usual steady kindly light in her eyes. The light came back again, however, as she greeted her visitor, a thin tall man, with hair and beard slightly touched with grey, and an almost oddly quiet and gentle manner, which yet carried no impression of shyness. Mr. Hamilton addressed him with great apparent cordiality, but in a loud voice as if he thought him dull of hearing or comprehension. In his heart he regarded the friend of Winnie's father and Winnie's childhood, as not only offensive in these relations, but as one in his own person thoroughly foolish and pitiable.

Mr. Dunbar was per fectly aware of these sentiments of his host's ; so was Winnie ; so more vaguely was Mrs. Hamilton, who would otherwise have liked Mr. Dunbar, for the sake of old days, and because her daughter liked him, and because he was always gentle to herself. Naturally, in this state of affairs, and after the words which had been exchanged while the visitor passed through the garden, the conversation which followed Mr. Dunbar's entrance was not perfectly unconstrained. Children are sometimes invaluable on such occasions ; and the little Hamiltons, who knew well they were safe in taking liberties in this case, clustered round Mr. Dunbar, and prattled to him, and squabbled about a place on his knee. He submitted to rather than encouraged their caresses and twitchings, however. Mr. Dunbar had a very strong partiality for pretty children ; and these four were not pretty, nor even engaging in their ways.

They had little colourless old-young faces very like each other, lank hair which the girls wore nearly as short as the boys, and forms which had an uncanny way of wriggling and letting their bones be felt under a friendly and playful clasp. The children were ugly little copies of their mother : she too had something of that old-young look, though in her case it was the youthfulness of it that was now most remarkable. Perhaps the children too might grow more youthful in appearance as time went on ; at present the best that could be said was that they were not at all like their father. As for Winnie, she was to everyone's eyes, and especially to Mr. Dunbar's eyes, utterly different from them all. " Well, how do you think Miss Maxwell is looking after her travels ? " asked Mr. Hamilton in his loud en couraging voice, when the inevitable commonplaces about the weather had been exhausted.

Mr. Dunbar had a habit that was very irritating to some people of making a pause as if for earnest thought before answering an apparently insignificant question. He took several seconds now to regard Winnie in perfect silence before he said quietly and with a half-smile, " I think she is looking well." The room was a long, pleasant, low-roofed one, with walls painted in palest green, and hung with old-fashioned prints, which were somewhat dim and undistinguishable as to subject, except to closest inspection ; the pretty chintz old-fashioned too, and considerably washed-out and faded, though there came no glare of sunlight into that room all the summer long, for the front windows were shadowed by great old trees which stretched their branches close to the house, and the light came unhind ered only through the single window that looked upon the garden.

And Winnie, still standing at the table over her treasures, was the one bit of bright and decided colouring to be seen — Winnie, with russet hair and a glowing com plexion of crimson and brown ; a tall, strong, young figure in a seaside dress of dark blue, making a picture of beauty in her youth and health. " She always looks well," said Winnie with her smiling eyes. " At school, at home, abroad — it is always the same. ' What a very healthy-looking girl Miss Maxwell is !' ' It is easy to see that you are well, Winnie ! No need of asking.' That is the way I have been remarked upon all my life, and now I shouldn't object to a little change. To be called ' delicate' or 'interesting-looking' only for once would be pleasing ; I would be grateful even to hear I was ' rather pale.' " " I can't conscientiously call you delicate-looking, how ever much I might wish to please you," said Mr. Dunbar, " but I never said you were uninteresting."

" Be thankful for your health while you've got it, girl ; you may lose it soon enough," said Mr. Hamilton. And then, changing his tone of severity to one of jocularity meant to be friendly, and chiefly produced by a remembrance that his step-daughter had only returned that morning after an absence of some months, he added ; " I daresay we'll find somebody before then to admire your red cheeks, though you don't seem to have lighted upon him in Italy or Switzerland. Better stay at home now for a while, where you'll have the field clear. Your friend, Mrs. Johnstone, has three daughters of her own to provide for. Ha ! ha ! ha ! " Winnie treated her stepfather to a look which would have been decidedly unpleasant to a person of a more sensitive nature, but of which he appeared perfectly un conscious.

" Mrs. Johnstone is always kind and well bred," said she, addressing herself pointedly to Mr. Dunbar ; " she has the knack of making one feel welcome and at home with her. That is one reason why this trip has been so pleasant. But my letters must have told you how nice it all was." " That is always the way with Winnie ! You are always delighted with new people, Winnie ! " said her mother querulously. " Am I ? Perhaps. But, as it happens, the John scones and I were friends at school for years, and their mother has been kind to me ever since I knew them." The convenient children filled up the pause that fol lowed. "Mr. Dunbar, Winnie has brought such lots of things home." " These are only a very few of the things." " She has brought presents for all of us." " She has brought two presents for papa."

" She has brought nothing for you, Mr. Dunbar." " Hasn't she ? What has she brought for herself ? " " A great many things for myself. These little Roman lamps — aren't they pretty ? — they are for my den ; and so are some of these bits of china. — I am not sure which ; some are to be left down here. And I've got photographs, — lots of photographs I must show you. And books ! I have decided to have a new book-case for my den ; I know exactly the kind I want. The whole room is to be put in order, that is to be my first business ; I have set my heart on making my den into a comfortable lurking place." " I hope you will give her a word on extravagance, Mr. Dunbar. She needs it." " You needn't try to make Mr. Dunbar scold me, papa. He won't. Besides, most of these things cost almost nothing, and photographs are wonderfully cheap abroad.

I have only got one big one, which is for you, if you ad mire my taste ; but my photographs are not unpacked yet. I didn't expect you to come to-day ; I meant to walk along in the evening to see you and Mary Hunter, and take you my gifts. My books are not unpacked yet, either. They did cost a good deal, I confess ; but one doesn't grudge money spent on good books." " Toots, nonsense," said Mr. Hamilton. " I'll undertake to provide you with as much good reading for a penny or two as will keep you a-going for a while." " Thank you very much, papa. But if the good read ing is to be reports of societies and anti-Popery pamphlets, I think you needn't trouble yourself to give it to me." Mr. Dunbar was smiling ; Mr. Hamilton waxed honestly indignant. " It would say a great deal more for your intelligence if you were interested in those things, Miss Winnie !

Are the crying evils of the day, the dan gers of your country, the concerns of your church, nothing to you ? " " Not when they are described in pamphlets," said Winnie, with unabated calm and cheerfulness. Mr. Hamilton burst into a loud laugh of contempt. " There's a regular young lady's answer for you ! She doesn't like pamphlets ! It's only the outside of books she cares for, unless the inside happens to be some trash of poetry, or trash of a novel." " Mr, Dunbar, do I read many novels ? " " Not unless you are very much changed since you left." " There, papa ; you hear. And Mrs. Johnstone used to hold me up as an example to the girls because I read so few. They read six to my one." " Don't tell me of other silly lassies ; — there are plenty of them in the world. And you'll find people enough, my girl, to flatter you to your face, and laugh at you behind your back for being so foolish as to believe them.

Be thankful that you have friends who care for your real good, and tell you your faults. — Get on your clothes, children, and out to the garden, every one of you ! This moment, Johnny, do you hear ? Not one word, Janet. This is not a day for anyone to be sitting in the house." The children were hurried out of the room, one moment ary lingerer getting a knock on the back from the paternal knuckles that sent him away whimpering. Mr. Dunbar rose and took up his hat. " Are you going straight home ?" said Winnie. "Wait one moment, and I will walk with you along the beach." She had got her hat, and was on her way downstairs before Mrs. Hamilton had finished complaining that she would not come home in time for tea ; she certainly would not ; that was always the way with Winnie when she went to walk on the beach.

Her daughter called back on promise of punctuality as she went, but she deliberately chose the longest route for her walk by passing the garden door and following the narrow flagged passage which led to the front of the rambling old house. The street in which it stood was old-fashioned too, and quaint and still ; more like a German than a Scottish street ; with great sycamore trees spreading a canopy over the side-walk, and sheltering the doors of the high, red-tiled, picturesque dwellings. The vista at one end was closed by the largest of these old houses, distinguished from the rest by separa tion within its own garden-gates : at the other end the street went down to the little harbour and the work-a-day world of the town. There was life and bustle enough in St. Baldred's, as known to most people, for it was one of the favourite summer sea-side resorts, and had its big hotels and villa residences, and lodgings at high prices, near the railway station and the links which golf-players loved.

But this little bit of it was a remnant of by-gone days, an " anachronism," as it was called by Winnie Maxwell, who delighted in it nevertheless, and, young radical though she was, felt proud of its atmosphere of old-world gentility, and the titled names (quite unconnected with those -of the present residents) which still lingered about the rooms of the house where she had been born. She stood still now for a moment or two at the door, looking round the familiar scene with satisfied eyes, which rested finally on the white house behind the gateway at the upper end of the street. " The Ramsays have taken the Lodge this summer again, I hear," she said, " and I suppose they will have all sorts of queer people to stay with them. Have they had any meetings yet?" " I don't know ; I know nothing about them.

I have only been at one of Mr. Ramsay's meetings — last summer," said Mr. Dunbar. " He is a good man, I have no doubt, but I want to talk of something else just now ; of your self, Winnie." " That is always an interesting subject. Do go on ; I am awfully curious." They had turned, and were walking quickly in the direction of the harbour ; Mr. Dunbar, a tall, stooping figure, with looks bent absently on the ground, or fixed absently before him ; Winnie, straight and alert, and watchful, keen in her interest in all around, walking as if the mere motion of every step was a pleasure. No pair of companions could well have been more at home with each other, for they had been wont to walk out thus to gether since Winnie was a sturdy little child with a very short frock, and bright thick hair tumbling over her shoulders.

And as, in those days when all agreeable en tertainment had necessarily been story-telling, she used to wait in cheerful faith through periods of silence, sure that her friend's thoughts were all for her benefit, and that patience would be rewarded with something interesting at last, so they waited now till they were almost at the end of the" street, when Mr. Dunbar said abruptly : " Winnie, do you think that coming back to St. Baldred's now was the wisest thing you could do ? " " Mr Dunbar," said Winnie, "lam a St. Baldred's woman, and I have my feelings ! I've been homesick for this place in a gondola at Venice, and I've shut my eyes from a view of Mont Blanc and thought of it. This morning in the train, when I looked out and saw my own sea and my own rocks in the dawn, I laughed — really laughed to myself for joy ; I daresay the other passengers thought I was a little mad.— I am not the least deluded about it, though.

I know the country inland is ugly, and I know the town is being over-built ; and there is a great want of shade about it, and except this little old bit here it is very unromantic ; and there are swarms of visitors everywhere in summer, and it is east-windy for about three hundred and sixty days in the year. But I love it, I love it ; and nothing will make me change my mind." " Very good. But you needn't fly out on me ; I meant no disrespect to St. Baldred's. I was thinking rather of the people you had come back to than of the place." Mr. Dunbar paused a moment, and Winnie was silent. " If this Mrs. Johnstone is all you say she is, and you like her girls so much, could not some arrangement be made by which you would remain with her most of your time ? Your mother would surely see the advantages for you if they were put before her of having companions ot your own age, and living in town.

Besides, you are your own mistress now, and can choose to live where you like. It's all very nice to have feelings about your own old home, but I think you will be able to cultivate them better away from it for the present. You can scarcely feel com fortable in your father's house as it is now." " I know you don't like Mr. Hamilton," said Winnie, composedly. "Now, I do." Her companion was sur prised into glancing round at her for a moment, then he looked sea-ward again with a slight smile, plainly expres sive of incredulity. " I do," said Winnie, provoked into repetition by his look. " I don't pretend to love him dearly, of course ; and I haven't the least bit of daughterly feeling to him ; but I am fond of him with a sort of affection that has come with being accustomed to him. You see," she went on, softening and half laughing, " you are the most sympathetic person I know, but in this you sympathize with me more than I can honestly sympathize with mvself.

You remember my father here — I wish I could ! — and you think of everything still in connection with him. I am glad some one feels so, but I can't. I can scarcely remember the house without Mr. Hamilton's loud voice in it, and his heavy feet tramping about. And though it has taken years to make me do it, I can honestly say I respect Mr. Hamilton now. I really do ; in a way." " I admire your qualification, Winnie ; and I am not going to deny that you are a sensible girl. Still — still " — . Mr Dunbar paused ; thinking not of what he had been saying, nor of Winnie's last words, but realizing with something of remorseful wonder how vague and slight were now to him the associations which the girl at his side believed in, as making her old home sacred to her father's friend. Henry Maxwell had been in his grave for more than twenty years, and the child loved first for his sake had been long ago loved for her own : the image of the living daughter had effaced the image of the dead father, which had dwelt with such distinctness in his old companion's mind in the days when Mr Dunbar still wanted a chum to drop in for a chat in the evenings, and when his visits to the quiet street in St. Baldred's were paid to a tearful little widow clad in deepest weeds of woe.