The Broken Tryst, a novel

Chapter I

" Sweet Auburn ! loveliest village of the plain, Where health ancl plenty cheer'd the labouring swain, Where smiling Spring its earliest visit paid, And parting Summer's ling'ring blooms delayed ! ' There is a little village on the south coast called Brightdale. It is a sweet little quiet place, full of thatched cot tages bosomed in luxuriant myrtles and surrounded by fragrant old-fashioned gardens. It is sheltered on one side by breezy downs, over which the clouds float lazily, and the winds sweep freely ; and on the other side the land slopes for a pleasant mile down to the sea, where it breaks off in loose cliffs of red sand, cut through by a deep gorge, worn by a small but rapid stream that turns a mill just below the village. Although so near the sea, Brightdale has none of the vulgar characteristics of a sea-side place ; but, un visited and unknown, maintains its pristine peace and simplicity and sleeps calmly on in sunshine and shadow, the abode of many a quiet heart and untroubled conscience.

There is that about the pretty street ol Brightdale that makes one think that the sun is always shining there, and when it rains, as it probably does sometimes, the inhabitants are too glad to think of the benefit to the meadows, or too much occupied with their thousand little busy concerns, to be vexed at it. Entering the village by the high road, you pass by neat farmhouses and low cottages, and under the deep shadow of. some lofty elms, coming from which you see a wide burst of glittering sea ; then you turn from the sea and pass between flowery hedge-rows, broken by clustering dots of cottages. Next you pass the village school, with its gabled roof and latticed windows, whence issues a continuous murmur as from a hive amongst flowers, louder or lower as lessons or play prevail. Among the lowly cottages of the poor there are some, larger and more convenient, but not less pictur esque, the dwellings of gentlefolk.

Ancl in the centre of all, the ancient church rises solemnly from the deep shade of elms, and in the quiet garden which surrounds it the departed rest peacefully, hard by the roadside, where their quaint epitaphs and sacred texts bear silent witness to the passers-by. Two lanes lead from the high road on either side of the churchyard, one through fields to the sea, and the other to the rec tory, which stands modestly behind the church, and thence to the mill. Shadows flicker across these lanes, ancl birds sing in their hedges, and the mere memory of them calls up the murmur of the distant sea and the plash of the mill-stream. A hermit might retreat to Brightdale for its peaceful seclusion, but the warm human influences of the place would make him learn to love and long for his kind ; or a poet might come to dream there, and his dreams would be sweet.

Traditions linger about the place, of saintly bishops, who dwelt long ago at the old-world rectory, ancl paced its closely shaven garden alleys and yew-bordered terraces, meditating holy thoughts and doing holy deeds. The rectory itself is a pattern of its kind. Ivy clings to its irregular chimneys, roses and honey suckle cluster round its latticed bay-windows ; its great hall and dining-room are dark with ancient oak carving, and nectarines and sweet-water grapes ripen on its sunny garden walls. The myrtle-covered cottages of the gentlefolks are few, and their inhabitants are not wealthy. One or two retired professional men, some gentle women who had seen better days, and a half-pay lieutenant, made up the little community at the period of this tale. A little way back behind the down, wdiich rises steeply on the land side of the village, was Wymmering Hall, the seat of Sir John Wymmering, the great man of those parts; and in the ancient rectory lived the Rev. Joseph Selwyn, whose head had grown gray whilst ministering to his flock, and who had reared a numerous family there.

Those young folks of his and their kinspeople at the Hall gave a wonderful dash of life and animation to the quiet place. Their doings were discussed round every stone hearth, and by every trellised porch in the village, lovingly and tenderly discussed for the most part, although one might sometimes discover the trail of the serpent even in the pleasant shades of Brightdale ; and their joys and sorrows were shared by the com munity at large. The lane by the rectory turns off at right angles a little way down and winds under trees, never still, and magic in their effects of light and shade. The o o mill stands picturesquely on one side of the lane, where the ground rises a little, and opposite to it is the dwelling-house, rich in gables and tenderly em braced by all sorts of creeping flowery things.

The sunny garden spreads out before the house, and from its open situation the sea is seen rolling majestically into unknown distances. One sunny day the miller's wife was sitting sewing tranquilly under a great elm on the lawn. Children were playing and laughing about, and a very pretty girl was leaning carelessly against the tree by her side playing with a rose, and smiling. " Auntie," she said, gaily, " you are an old croaker." Mrs. Brackenbury shook her head, let down her work in her lap, and looked up gravely into the joyous face before her. " My dear," she said, " the time will come when you will think of what I have said, and acknowledge how true your old auntie's croakings were." " Oh, no, auntie, I shall never do that, I can tell you. All your sermons go in at one ear and out of the other," she replied, with an amused smile playing round her lips.

Mrs. Brackenbury shook her head again ; but as she had just put five pins in her mouth, she could not say anything, and so held her peace impressively. " I can take care of myself, never fear," added the girl. " I am a great deal wiser than you think me." " My dear Ethel," said Mrs. Brackenbury, slowly, and with emphasis, " you are far too pretty to be wise." Ethel's face coloured, and she looked down at the grass at her feet, not at aU displeased. " So take care and be content with us homely folk, and don't be for ever at the HaU," said Mrs. Bracken bury, looking up with a bright pleasant smile on her lips and in her eyes. Ethel's face clouded, and she looked down on the grass at her feet, with her thoughts wandering awaj'. " Well ! " she said, looking up at last with the cloud suddenly vanishing, "I will try to remember what you say, auntie, although how my unfortunate head is to hold all the sermons I hear, I can't think."

" There's plenty of room there, never fear," said Mrs. Brackenbury, looking with a certain maternal pride at the well-carried head leaning against the tree, " room and to spare, I'm thinking." " Oh ! auntie, you think I'm a paragon," exclaimed Ethel, laughing, but with a sort of discontent in her voice. " No, I don't at all think you are a paragon, young lady ; but I think you have quite your share of brains, that's all," said Mrs. Brackenbury, shaking her head as if to lament over the fallibility of human nature in general, and of Ethel's in particular. At this moment there was the sharp ring of horse's hoofs in the lane, and Mrs. Brackenbury peered up over her spectacles to discern the effect of the hoofs on Ethel. " Mr. Brackenbury ? " Ethel asked. The hoofs stopped, the rider leaped to the ground, flung the bridle to a groom, and came whistling up the grass-bordered path.

" No ; Will," she added, smiling ; " nobody else whistles in that extraordinary fashion." And a long, lithe lad of twenty, with bright blue eyes and a shade of down on his lips, came into sight. " What, Ethel ? " he exclaimed, smiling ; " why, where have you been this age ? " "Not very far," replied Ethel, suffering herself to be drawn on to the seat by his side ; " I have been at my usual place of abode, which I should think you ought to know by this time." " Well ! you might have come to see us in all that time," grumbled Will. " Well ! really, WiU, I should think you might exist a week without seeing me, answered Ethel, laughing ; " or if you wanted to see me so very badly, you have legs capable of bringing you to the cottage," she added. Will responded by a species of grunt, and looked very grave, while Mrs. Brackenbury watched them with an amiable smile, like a mother-cat seeing her kittens at play.

" Will, my dear, don't forget what your father told you about the corn to be fetched to-morrow," she said, stitching busily. " No, mother," replied Will, absently, more occupied in gazing at the slender white hand he held in his than in thinking about the corn. " There," added Mrs. Brackenbury, folding up her work and giving it a satisfactory pat, " now we can go in to tea. Susy, my dear, run down to the mill ancl call your father." Susy gave three bounds down the path and one into the lane, with her fair hair flying, and Ethel and Will followed the rest into the honeysuckled porch with its wide seats, thence into a dark, winding passage, and thence into a large low room, with oak panels and a latticed bay-window. They sat down to a table groaning under its heavy load, and the air came sweetly through the roses at the open lattice.

Will had gathered one, and he stuck it into Ethel's hair, slily, but not too softly. Ethel shook it out and looked cross. " Really, Will, you are too great a nuisance," she cried, pettishly. " You needn't be so cross, I'm sure you're not hurt," rejoined Will, throwing the rose out of the window. " No, Will, but my hair is," said Ethel, smiling and re-adjusting the dark braids ; "you men are so stupid about hair, you know," she added more softly. " Always putting our foot in it," said Will, half pleased and half cross. In a few minutes Susy returned out of breath, and her father followed her. " Glad to see you, my lass, always glad to see you," he said, patting Ethel gently on the shoulder in passing as he went to his large arm-chair at the foot of the table. " Have in some ale, missus, it's a mortal dry night," he added, sharpening his carving knife ; " maybe the girl will like some after her walk."

" No, thank you, Mr. Brackenbury," replied Ethel, looking unaturally demure in her desire to repress a titter at the idea of her drinking the miller's heady ale in that sort of promiscuous way. Will saw the titter, and a wrathful red tinged his cheek. " This is the sort of stuff women like," he said loftily, as he handed her some tea. " And what news have you brought ? " asked Mrs. Brackenbury, beaming over the teapot at her guest. " Not much," said Ethel ; " I daresay you heard about old Reuben Delves and the apples ? " " No, we haven't heard that. What — has the old man found the thieves ? " " Yes ; I wonder you didn't hear. The whole of Brightdale is laughing at the poor old fellow. He watched for the thieves, and they for him. He hid under the hedge till they had filled their sack, thinking to catch them red-handed, and then he pounced upon them, thinking to scare them out of their wits, whereupon they calmly turned round, pinioned him, tied his feet, hoisted him into the apple-tree, and ran off with their spoils, leaving him using very naughty words in his exalted situation."

Mr. Brackenbury leaned back in his chair, turned purple, and laughed all over. His wide waistcoat heaved convulsively and the tears stood in his eyes. The others laughed too, with the exception of Will, the corners of whose mouth twitched, while he looked demurely into his plate. " For goodness' sake, father, don't laugh like that, and at tea-time too ; you'll be having a fit or some thing," cried Mrs. Brackenbury, herself crimson with laughing at poor Reuben's discomfiture. " Ho ! ho ! ho ! " shouted the miller, subsiding a little from want of breath." To think of old Reub hoisted into his apple tree ! How the cantankerous old rascal would have sworn ! Aud the boys cutting off with the apples ! Lord, what a joke ! " " And did Reub stay there all night ! " enquired little Nellie with deep interest.

" Not quite," replied Ethel, gazing with amused eyes at her exhausted host, whose occasional bursts still made the teacups ring. " The rectory gardener happened to be going down to shut up some glasses he had forgotten quite late in the night, when he heard a continuous grumbling sound over the hedge, and climbing up he saw poor old Reuben in the moonlight ever so high up, alternately groaning and swearing, and so got over and took him down." " I allow the old fellow did swear," ejaculated Mr. Brackenbury, going off again at the thought, to the great terror of his wife. " I say, it was really an awful shame, though ! " cried Will ; " he might have got his death of rheumatism." " But the boys must have been mortal strong, to have swung old Delves up into the tree," said Mr. Brackenbury. Will laughed to himself.

"The old fellow is as light as a feather," he said ; " he is nothing but bones and crabbedness." "Ah, that's all very fine," said Ethel; "but we don't believe in boys doing it. They think it was the Selwyn boys. They have not forgiven him for set ting that gin for their dogs." " Mr. Selwyn would be very angry if he knew of it," said Mrs. Brackenbury, "and rightly too, for it's too bad to play an old man like that such a trick, for all he is so cross and tyrannical. But how was it you didn't teU us all about it, Will ? You must have heard of it." " Yes," said Will, slowly, and looking very hard at the ceiling ; " I heard of it before." " I tell j'ou what, mother," exclaimed Mr. Bracken bury, resting on his knife and fork, " after all, it's hard on the old chap to be done out of his apples. You look him out a nice cheese and send him down."

" What a bright idea ! " cried Will, " and, I say, father, you know that damaged meal — why not send him a sack for his pig ? " " All right," returned Mr. Brackenbury ; "send him some and give some to Ben Jones. Why hadn't we had the sense to think of it before ? " " Poor old man ! The apples really were a serious loss to him," said Ethel ; " he has never been known to have been in such a rage before, and has done nothing but stalk about all day, vowing that he will have the law of the ' young varmint ' or else twist their necks. But he has one comfort, he says, and that is, that he shall have the digging of their graves some day." " As if his wretched old carcase wouldn't have been mouldering away for years before those young things wanted to be buried ! " cried Mr. Brackenbury, indignantly.

" Well, well ! we never know whose turn it may be next." "No," said Will, speaking from the bottom of his chest. "Holloa! Will! Why, what's got to the lad?" exclaimed the miller; "he's been in the dumps this day or two. Nothing wrong with the books, is there ? " " No," replied Will, gruffly, " why should the books be wrong ? " " Is there anything wrong with your conscience, Will ? " said Ethel, with a wicked look. " No," replied Will. Ancl he looked so severe that Ethel did not care to teaze him, and began discussing the garden party that was coming off at Wymmer ing Hall.

Chapter II

" Shall I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair ? ,; After the tea was over and they had strolled round the garden, to admire all the fresh things that were sprouting, or blooming, or bearing fruit, Ethel bid the family at the mUl good-bye, and set off to return to her home. " May I see you home ? " asked Will, meekly, when she bid him good-night. " Well, really Will," exclaimed Ethel, laughing ; " one would think you had never done it before in your life. Pray come if you like ; only do be a little more sociable." " Ethel," said WiU, after walking silently along the lane by her side for a little way, " I can't make you out." Ethel laughed, but her face suddenly became sad. " Nobody can," she said. " How pretty the ships look ! " she added, stopping at a gate and gazing at the sea where two or three yellow-winged vessels were sailing over a path of liquid gold.

Will stopped and looked at the sun-lit sea, feeling his heart strangely moved by it, he could not tell why. Then he turned and looked at Ethel, and remembered a fairy tale they had read together long ago, seated on the white sacks in the cloudy rooms at the mill, and lulled by the sound of the ever-moving wheel. White as the snow, red as the blood, and black as the ebony, was the heroine ; and Ethel was like her. " I wonder why you always call my mother auntie ? " said Will, as they went on. " Oh ! I forget. Because it was so stiff to say Mrs. Brackenbury, I suppose. Besides, as I haven't any leal friends and relations, I may as well invent some. Will walked on, grave and absorbed in thought, and Ethel was so struck by his unwonted gravity that she concluded he must have the toothache, to her one of the most serious of mortal iUs.

" Let us go down by the sea," said Will, when they came to the bend in the lane. And they went down accordingly, drinking in the fresh evening breeze, and walking lightly over the springy turf. They came at last to the edge of the cliff, and Ethel sat down on the grass and looked over with serious eyes into the bay. There, deep down in some sunless cave, lay her unknown mother ; and there, but for the strong arm and fearless heart of a fisher, she herself would have been lying even now, beneath the golden glories of that evening sun. The waves sighed here more sorrowfully, and moved more solemnly to Ethel's fancy ; and it was to her a sacred spot, holding as it did that silent form and the dim mystery of her birth. Here she had dreamed by the hour until every shadow of the cliffs was peopled, and every rock haunted; and soon, as she looked upon its sunny waves, she was entirely lost to the presence of the long, lithe figure stretched on the turf at her feet.

The sun sank lower, the sky glowed redder, aud Ethel gazed on dreamily at the calm sea, and Will at the turf on which he lay, while he busied himself with plucking up little bits of grass and throwing them away. " Ethel," he said, at last, looking up into the rapt face bent so earnestly on the quiet waves, " which of all the men in Scott's novels do you like best ? " Ethel woke up and turned an animated face towards him. "Oh! I don't know. I must think before 1 tell you," she answered. "There are so many delightful people, you know, it is hard to say which is nicest- And yet I have a very decided weakness for the Master of Ravenswood. Perhaps because he was so unfortunate." " I should like to know," said Will very slowly and gravely, " what your idea of a man is." " Far too exalted to be put into words," said Ethel, laughing, and idly dropping a stone over the cliff.

" How solemn you are to-night, Will ! " " What sort of a man you would choose for a husband, for instance," he said, turning very red. " Really Will, how improper you are ! " she ex claimed, laughing merrily; " as if ladies might choose. But one thing is certain," she added, " and that is, that I should choose no one but a soldier." " Like Claude Wymmering, for instance ! " " How dare you say that to me, Will ! " cried Ethel, flushing, and turning a passionate glance upon him. " Why should I not ? " rejoined Will, sullenly ; " is it strange that a man like Claude Wymmering should please you ? " " What is Claude Wymmering to me 1" said Ethel, with a trembling lip, " and why do you make hints at me, Will? It is a mean thing, a mean, cowardly tiling." Will turned pale and rose upon one elbow, fronting her with kindling eyes.

" Why is it mean to mention a man's name ? " he said, with the quietness of anger. " You spoke of soldiers, and I named the first that came into my head, and then you flew into a passion and called me mean, mean," he repeated, with an accent of intense re proach. " But you did it — you know why," said Ethel, with the tears rushing into her eyes. " You know that people tease me about Claude Wymmering, and say unkind things to mama about him. And it was mean of you to take advantage." " You must be very far gone if you can't bear the sound of a man's name," said WiU, his wrath tempered with remorse. "You are always talking about soldiers, and Claude Wymmering is the only one you have any notion of." " He is not the only soldier in the world," said Ethel, keeping back her tears and looking out upon the sea.

" What is the sense of admiring a man because he happens to have a red coat on his back ? " Will said contemptuously ; " as if that could alter him ! " " A red coat does not make a soldier," said Ethel. " As if you knew anything about soldiers,'' con tinued WiU ; " Wymmering is the only one you know, except the fellows you may have seen from the garrison. I am sure if you admire the conceited young asses who walk about sucking their canes and staring at the girls in the streets at Rockton, I pity your taste." Ethel laughed and made no remark, but looked away at the fading sea, and there was something in the laugh that made Will angry and vexed. " Do you remember how we used to play at the mill together ? " he said,fafter a little period of plucking up the turf. " I should think I did," replied Ethel ; " but why do you speak of it in that dismal tone, as if you were going to make your last will and testament ?

" Will gave an impatient jerk and moved away. " We always got on well enough then together," he said. " Yes ; and you always took my part when I quar relled with the others." " Then why should you make yourself disagreeable now, and laugh at everything I say ? " he said in a vexed voice. " Oh, come, Will, that is too much," cried Ethel, laughing ; " I think we had better come away, or we shall certainly quarrel. The sea makes you dismal and cross." " No, no," cried Will, jumping up as she did, and taking her hands to stop her, " now I have got you I am not going to let you go so quickly. Now listen, Ethel, we might marry." " What an absurd idea ! " cried Ethel, suddenly turning pale, as she caught the light of passion in his eyes. " Why absurd ? " said Will, earnestly ; we have known each other all our lives, and I have got fonder of you every day."

" But what a bad reason ! " said Ethel quickly. " Those sort of people never do marry, you know. You don't know what you are talking about, Will. We are far too good friends to think of such things. Let us go home." " If we are good friends, we might be better," pleaded Will, who was worked up to far too high a pitch to cool down all of a sudden. "And I woula be a good husband to you, though I don't wear a red coat." " There," said Ethel lightly, " you know I am never going to marry anybody out of a red coat, so what is the good of wrangling about it ? Let us go home in peace." Will dropped her hands, and turned away with a passionate gesture. " Very well," he said ; " you decline me because my coat is not red. That is enough. But I asked you to marry me, and not my coat." And he walked away, scarcely knowing what he did.

Ethel followed him and slid her hand softly into his arm. "Don't be cross, Will," she said in a coaxing tone, " and please don't talk in such a ridiculous way again." " Ridiculous ! " ejaculated the poor lad, stamping his foot and flinging the little flattering hand from his arm, " anything that concerns me is ridiculous to you it seems." "Nonsense," said Ethel, taking courage from his wrath ; " do bo rational, Will, and give up those sort of fancies and let us be pleasant together, as we were before." Will said nothing, but walked on biting his lips and feeling very much inclined to burst into tears, which he did not do, as he would rather have died first. But Ethel, who was deeply concerned at heart, kept up a light banter all the way home, thinking it better not to treat Will's little romance too seriously.

In this she made a great mistake, and thus succeeded in wounding the poor fellow to the very quick. It was quite dusk when they reached the cottage opposite the church where Ethel lived, so that they could barely discern each other's faces. Will swung the wicket open and held out his hand silently. " But you are not going home ? " said Ethel. " Oh, now, that is too shabby of you. Papa will be wanting to tell poor old Reuben's tale to you and talk over the news. There he is, under the verandah, pulling the roses to pieces in a most disconsolate manner. Do come in." " I can't come in," he burst out in desperation ; "good-night." " Well, good-night, then, if you won't come in. But remember how long it is since you have been, and don't quite renounce us altogether." , Will kept Ethel's hand in his as if he could not bear to let it go, and looked doubtfully at her while he swung the gate with his other hand.

" I am sure I don't want to renounce you," he said, quietly. Then he turned and walked across the dusty road and passed through the churchyard gate under the shadow of the elms, quite swallowed up in their shade. And instead of going home, he leaned against a toinb stone, with his arms crossed on his breast, with his face towards the cottage, and looked down at the heaving turf at his feet, ruefully chewing the cud of his disappointment. Ethel took two of her light steps up the path, and then turned towards Will's retreating figure, and stood there full of thought, long after he had been swallowed up in the darkness of the churchyard, and wondered at him. Why had he been so cross, when he was always so good-tempered ? Why had he chosen to fancy himself in love with her ? And was he deeply grieved ?

People in love were hard to understand. Then she went up to the myrtle-covered cottage, walking slowly, with a troubled face. A little active old man, with snow-white hair and a merry rosy face, was pacing up and down with a rolling gait, smoking a short pipe, and looking out watchfully at the sea, as if he expected to see some thing on it. "What, Brightie, my dear!" he exclaimed, looking quickly and cheerily round without taking his pipe from his mouth; " we thought you were going to make a night of it, my pretty." " Why, papa," said Ethel, going up and taking the little old man's arm, and joining his walk, "am I late?" " No, my dear," said a little mild voice from the open window. "It is only Oliver's foolishness. The moment you are out of the house he begins to worry, and there is no peace till you come back again."