Judith: The Money-Lender's Daughter

Front matter

JUDITH Judith: The Money-Lenders Dattghter By E VEL YN E VERE TT GREEN Author of " The Stronger Will," " The Doctors Dozen," etc., etc. Edinburgh and London Oliphant Anderson and Ferrier BOOKS BY EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN "Delightful tales of family life." — Athenæum. 3s. 6d. Large Crown Zvo, illustrated. MRS ROMAINE'S HOUSEHOLD. THE WILFUL WILLOUGHBYS. 2s. 6d. Crown Zz'O, cloth extra, illustrated. THE STRONGER WILL. FALCONER OF FALCONHURST. THE DOCTOR'S DOZEN. MISS URACA. JUDITH : THE MONEY-LENDER'S DAUGHTER. 2S. Crown Svo, cloth extra, illustrated. OLIVER LANGTON'S WARD. DOROTHY'S VOCATION. is. 6d. Cloth extra, illustrated. A PAIR OF PICKLES. WYHOLA. Paper Covers, 15. LITTLE MISS VIXEN. FLATS. Paper Covers, is. gd. HOPE. Fcap. Svo, illustrated. 6d. SYD'S NEW PONY. THE WITCH OF THE QUARRY HUT.

Chapter I

JUDITH!" The call came clear and strong through the stillness which reigned in and about the old mill. There was a note of urgency in the voice that spoke, and yet there was a sound of caution too, as though the speaker did not desire his call to be too universally heard. This was the third repetition of the name, and it had at last the desired effect. A girl's figure appeared at the door of the mill, and Judith Morrison stood looking out, with her hand lifted to shade her eyes from the slanting rays of the afternoon sun, now just beginning to sink in the sky. The clear, strong light fell full upon her as she stood — a picturesque and striking figure, set off by the blackness of the interior of the house against which it was clearly outlined. Tall and commanding of stature, her figure Judith. 6 full of supple grace and instinct with life and strength, Judith would have attracted notice anywhere, even had her face been less attractive and less characteristic.

As it was, there was something in the steady gaze of the dark eyes beneath their level brows, in the mingled strength and sweetness of the regular features, in the turn of the head, and, above all, in the radiance of the rare and rather sudden smile, which could hardly fail to win admiration and notice, and which might have made Judith Morrison a power in any sphere less contracted and circumscribed than her own. Another point that was remarkable about her in those days of fashionable apparel, when the wives and daughters of tradesfolk were aping and imitating their " betters," was that Judith clad herself in long straight gowns of perfect plainness and simplicity, notwithstanding the fact that her father was reputed to be the wealthiest man in Heron Dyke, and had always determined that his daughter should have every advantage and be brought up like a lady.

But Judith was wont to smile when she heard this thing said of her. " I am a miller's daughter," she would reply, holding her beautiful head with an unconscious queenliness ; and when laughed at by the girls of the town for going about " such a guy," she Judith. 7 would quietly reply that working women could not follow absurd fashions as fine ladies might, and that she preferred to be comfortable over her work than fashionable abroad. For Judith abominated idleness, and although there was one old woman servant at the mill, she was too infirm to be of great use, and the girl did everything herself which the other was unable to ac complish. Thus it was no mere figure of speech for her to call herself a working woman, albeit she had not always been one — nor need she now have toiled with her own hands about the house, had she been willing to dismiss aged Betsy in favour of a stronger and more youthful servant.

All the same, Judith's work was generally accomplished in the early part of the day, and by the afternoon she was at leisure. She had changed her working dress for a plain white gown of twilled cotton, which fell about her in long, straight folds, and gave something curiously statuesque to her appearance. He who had thrice called her was a stoutly built, powerful young fellow, with the air of a well-to-do artisan of the better class. He had a head of thick dark-reddish hair, eyes that were ruddy brown in colour, and a sanguine complexion. His features were well enough, though the expression was something over-bold. He was accounted a well-looking man in his Judith. native place, and was doing a brisk trade with his uncle, the wheelwright and carpenter. Women began to wonder how it was that Stephen Blunt did not marry, since he could well afford to do so, and there was no lack of willing maidens to choose from ; but hitherto he had not taken the irrevocable step, and there had been whispers flying about that the fault of this lay with Judith Morrison.

" She will neither marry him herself, nor let any other have him," irate mothers of marriage able daughters had been known to say. Certain it was that, until a year or more back, public opinion had decidedly been in favour of the match between Michael Morrison's daughter and Andrew Wheeler's nephew. Judith was then a gay, laughing, almost reckless, girl, though always something different from her companions. But she had been fond of pleasure, fond of such society as the place and her position entitled her to, and had been constantly seen with Stephen, who was obviously paying court to her. But a sudden check to Judith's gay career had been put by the illness and death of her mother, which took place about Christmas-time, the year but one before the opening of this history. Judith had nursed her with a devotion which had excited wonder and admiration ; and, as her youthful friends put it, "she had never been Judith. 9 the same since."

They none of them seemed able to say exactly what it was that constituted the change ; but that there was some change all agreed, and none more emphatically than Stephen Blunt, who began to resent the fact that he could make no impression — no way with Judith now. And yet he could not exactly find reasonable ground for complaint with the fashion in which she treated him. He did not very often come to the mill itself. Somehow or another, nobody seemed particularly fond of approaching the desolate-looking house where Michael Morrison and his daughter lived. The mill was no longer working now. The Morrisons were said to have made a tidy fortune by their trade, but the present owner had declared that it did not pay, so he had gradually ceased business, and now the great water wheel stood slowly rotting with disuse.

All the same for that, it was whispered abroad that Michael was making money faster than he ever did in trade ; and if men did look rather askance at him, as one whose methods were not understood, yet they showed him all due respect when he appeared amongst them, for he was popularly believed to be amassing a large fortune, and to have secret hoards of gold laid by in his house, which is not a small Judith. 10 distinction in a small community, even though some might whisper that the devil himself had helped in the amassing of it. Stephen, however, was not troubled by any fears of this sort. He thought none the worse of Michael for carrying on in semi-secrecy the trade of money-lender. If he could make it pay, so much the wiser he to take to what he found more lucrative than a miller's trade.

He rejoiced in the rumours of Michael's wealth, for, if he could only succeed in winning Judith's hand, he would probably have the ultimate fingering of that golden hoard. All the same for that — perhaps on that very account — he was none too fond of Michael's company, or the sharpness of his tongue ; and when he made his visits to the mill he generally rowed himself up in one of his own boats, for he and his uncle included boat-buildings in their thriving business, and called or whistled till he attracted Judith's attention. He was standing up in his boat now, in the mill-pool just below the fall. Judith saw him, and advanced slowly. There was no look of particular pleasure or welcome on her face, though her calm, grave eyes smiled slightly in response to his eager greeting. "Judith," he began in a quick, impetuous way, " have you forgotten Harrington Heath Judith. 11 fair ?

It's to-morrow and next day, and folks say it'll be grander than ever, and there'll be fireworks and no end of shows, and some play actors have come and will give a real play — a good one. You'll not go with nobody else, Judith? You'll keep yourself for me?" He was looking at her eagerly, intently, as a man who feels that much depends upon the answer. There was suppressed excitement in his look and tone : the ruddy gleam in his eyes bespoke a quick temper and a passionate nature. Judith looked at him with the grave directness which seemed characteristic of her. There was no answering gleam in her large, luminous eyes ; her calm face did not change in expression. She spoke after a brief pause, during which she seemed to be weighing her words beforehand, and her voice was exceedingly pleasant to the ear — low-toned and musical, and refined in accent.

" I will certainly go with nobody else, Stephen. I shall not go at all," she said. He looked less surprised than mutinous, restive, prepared for a sharp tussle, but resolved on victory. "Not go, Judith!" he repeated. "Come, you only say that to tease me. You have always been before." " I did not go last year," she answered quietly. Judith. 12 " No ; but that was different. Your mother had not been six months dead. You had been ill. You were out of heart and spirits. You were not yourself in many ways. But all that is past and gone. Judith, my girl, it is time you put an end to this sort of thing ; it has been going on too long as it is. It is time you woke up and were yourself again. I've not hurried you ; I've taken it all quietly, as you know. But it can't go on always like this ; you must see it for yourself.

Come, be a reasonable girl, and go with me to the fair to-morrow. It'll be a sort of beginning for you ; and, once you get back amongst old friends and old ways, you'll be yourself again. You've been down in the dumps long enough ; you must be happy again now." A sudden vivid smile crossed Judith's face, shining out of her glorious eyes, and illuminating them with extraordinary brilliancy. Then her whole face softened in a marvellous fashion, and, although the smile had died away, it seemed as though its radiance lingered yet about her. " Oh, Steve ! " she said, using the old familiar name, as it were unconsciously, "do you really think that I was happier in the old days of fairs and shows than I am now ? " He looked at her in that mutinous amaze which her words often occasioned him now. He felt as though a gulf had gradually opened Judith. 15 between them, and that every month it grew wider and wider.

To-day he had come resolved to bridge that gulf — to draw Judith by very force across it, to stand at his side once more. He had felt confident of accomplishing his object until he found himself standing face to face with her. Now he suddenly felt himself assailed by a number of unwelcome doubts. There was some thing in the stately pose of the girl's figure, in the curious radiance of her upward glance, even in the very gentleness and softness of her voice, which bespoke a reserve of power inexplicable to him. If she had feared the battle she would have been on the defensive — alert and de fiant ; but there was no touch defiance or hostility in the face turned towards him, yet there was not one iota of yielding either. "At least you were a very different girl then," he answered. " Always laughing and joking, and up to any fun.

Now there's no making you out. You've turned your back on old friends and old ways. It may be woman's fashion to do that, but it don't seem like you, Judith ! " She held out her hand to him with a sudden gesture of friendship, and yet as he took it — half reluctantly — he was aware that it was given in a spirit very different from the one he wished to arouse. Jtidith. 16 " Not on old friends," she said in her deep low tones, "only on old ways that were not good ways — not good for me : I judge for none besides. Steve, there are better things we have to live for than fairs, and shows, and amusements such as you and I used to share together. I hope some day that you will find this out, as I have done. Mother always told me how it would be, but I could not believe her until I felt it for myself.

When that great, beautiful happiness comes into your life, you want none of those other things : indeed, you feel that you are better without them — at least I do — for in going there we hear and see much that is evil " "Oh, of course there are rowdy, disreput able persons everywhere," interrupted Stephen roughly and impatiently. " But I should keep you safe from all annoyance, Judith. You surely know that ? " " Yes, Steve, you are very good," she answered quietly. " You take great care of me ; but you cannot help my hearing the Holy Name blasphemed, and God's laws broken in many ways. I should not be happy. I could not bear it now. If you must go, Stephen, you must find some other companion ; I cannot go with you."

Chapter II

" \]{ J ELL, I don't advise you to tell your * * father, Leonard. He's not in the mood to hear of anything else." "Anything else?" repeated Leonard Ham mond, stopping still to look at his companion. " Why, what has he been hearing before ? " " Nothing about you, my boy. Don't be alarmed ; he regards you as the best of virtuous sons. I heard him tell Fred so more than once. It's Fred that has been bothering him for money. He's been getting into debt tremendously. I knew how it would be when he was put into a crack regiment — indeed, I told your father so. But Fred would have his way, and there's been a sine row, I can tell you. I don't advise your going to your father for money just yet. You'll not get it if you do, and you'll find things unpleasant at home to boot." Leonard stood kicking the gravel about with his heel, and biting his lips in vexation and perplexity.

He was a handsome young fellow of five-and-twenty, with the good features which belonged to the Hammond family, a pair »7 B Judith. 18 of really beautiful dark blue eyes, and silky fair hair of a tawny golden colour which looked brown In shadow, but could light up mar vellously in a strong light. He had a good figure, and carried himself with ease and grace. At present his face was considerably tanned, as though he had been travelling — as, indeed, was the case — but the brown was rather becoming to him, and gave him an additional air of manliness. For in spite of his good figure and handsome face, there was a suspicion of weakness in Leonard's expression, which might lead a close observer to suspect some corresponding weakness of character. It was an attractive and open countenance, and yet there was a lack in it which always made itself felt in time.

Leonard Hammond was the second son of the Squire of Heron Hall, and had passed a rather successful career at school and college. But he had had the misfortune to be heir to a small fortune, which just kept him from the necessity of working for a living, without being a really adequate provision for his future. Moreover, he could only draw the interest of this fortune — the capital was beyond his control ; and, though he had been enabled to travel round the world, and enjoy himself very much for the past three years, it had not helped Judith. 19 him to anything permanent, nor had he any prospects to speak of. But things might have gone well enough for him had he not let himself be led into debt by the companions he made on his travels. Unfortunately for himself, he had visited many fashionable places in Europe, had played heavily, and had almost uniformly lost.

Com ing to England with empty pockets, he had tried to recover his losses by play in London. He had fallen in with Colonel Loftus — a friend and neighbour of the Hammond family — and had been led by him into the worst possible sort of society for a young man of not much moral backbone. As a natural result of this, he had plunged more deeply than ever into debt. The Colonel had made him some advances, but these had quickly become exhausted, and he had re turned home with the burden of a heavy amount of debt upon him, hoping that his father might be persuaded to assist him to clear himself. But he had not had courage to mention the matter at once. Leonard hated what was disagreeable ; and to tell of follies and debts was infinitely unpleasant ; nor was Squire Hammond's temper of the best. Leonard was in favour at home now, because he had been away, and had given no trouble or anxiety as yet to his parents ; but he was not the favourite.

Judith. 20 Fred, the dashing soldier son — the heir to the property, who was always in trouble and debt — he was, despite all this, the favourite at home ; his mother's idol and his father's pride. If the Squire stormed and raved at his extra vagance, he always found money by hook or by crook to pay off his debts. It was rather resented in the family that Leonard, and not Fred, had succeeded to the small property before alluded to. However, his father had made excuse of this to stop his allowance, and make it over to Fred, who was able to absorb any amount of money. Leonard had not resented this. He was fond of his brother, being an affectionate and well-disposed youth by nature, and quite satisfied with his own share of the good things of the world when first he found himself master of a small independent fortune.

Now, however, he began to regard matters somewhat differently ; and, as he heard the Colonel's last words, he made answer : " Well I call that rather hard ! I've not had a penny-piece from the governor all these years ; and, if I ask for a paltry two hundred at the end of the time, I can't see why he should cut up rough ! " " Well, he will, whether you see it or not," answered Loftus ; " he's none too much money himself, land not being what it was once, and Judith. 21 Fred taking such a lot, and Julia's wedding to think of. Of course I can't marry your sister without some sort of proper provision. All those things have to be considered, my boy." "It seems to me that everybody is con sidered but me," returned Leonard, a little bitterly for one of his sunny temperament ; " if I'd known that this beggarly income was going to cut me out of everything for the future, I'd have handed it over to Fred then and there.

It seems to me I should have been much better off without it." " Oh well, things will pull round somehow, I dare say," answered the Colonel ; " other men have been in worse scrapes before now. I'll do what I can for you, and turn things over in my mind. Perhaps we'll hit on something or other soon. I suppose I'm the biggest of your creditors, and I'll not be hard on you." Leonard did not look particularly grateful for this promise. He had become rather suspicious of Loftus, and had begun to dislike him as much as it was in his easy-going nature to dislike anyone who ranked as a family friend. As the future husband of his sister, he must keep on good terms with him ; but he had made up his mind to have no more to do with his friend or his methods, though, unfortunately for him, Leonard's mind was frequently made Judith. 22 up on the right side, only to veer round under temptation and persuasion.

" You're a bit down on your luck now, youngster," said Loftus with familiar geniality ; "but that'll turn some day soon. I shall be having some fellows of the right sort down before long. You shall come and stay with me then, and see if you can't get your revenge on some of them." " Thanks ! " answered Leonard, rather curtly; "but I think I've had about enough of your friends for the present;" and then he walked oft with his hands in his pockets, and his brow fur rowed in perplexed thought, while Loftus looked after him with a curious gleam in his eyes. " I think he'll be the man for that job now," he said half aloud ; "but he'll need a good bit of careful management. He's got grit in him, and he could turn round and be very stubborn, but I think I know how to play such fish as he." Leonard strolled homewards with an ab stracted air.

He had been only two days at his father's house, after an absence of nearly three years, and he felt a complete stranger there, knowing far less of recent occurrences than did Colonel Loftus, who lived only a mile away; and in capacity of Julia's suitor was constantly backwards and forwards. Leonard had been singularly little at home all his life. Judith. 23 He had always been a favourite with his school and college friends, and had received numerous invitations to spend holidays or vacation at their houses. His parents had seldom objected to this arrangement, and save at Christmas-time he had seldom been at Heron Hall since he first left it for Harrow. He had grown altogether out of the family life, and felt like an outsider. Moreover, his three years of foreign travel had loosened the boyish ties he had made with former associates.

He had enjoyed his journeyings much ; but he began to think now that it had all been a mistake. He was back in his native country now, a friendless creature, strange to all that should be familiar to him. He had no pursuits or interests as yet, and hardly knew how to make them. He shrank with dislike and distaste from the thought of the companionship which had latterly been his ; but how was he to better this ? The hall door stood wide open as he ap proached the house. Nobody was about, but there were fishing rods and all the needful appliances handy for the sport which had been dear to him in boyhood, and he felt an awaken ing of his old desire for the quiet pastime which would keep him out of mischief and give him leisure for thought. Selecting a rod and fly-book, he started out, Judith. 24 and was soon gently whipping the stream with a real sense of pleasure in feeling his old skill returning to him, though he had seldom fished in these waters, having been so little at home in the right season.

In fact, he knew very little about the course of the stream or where it would lead him, except that in time it must lead past the small town which had grown up round the original tiny village of Heron Dyke. He was rather curious to know what track the stream would take, and walked on and on beside its many bends till he heard the sound of falling water, and remarked to himself: " Some mill, I suppose." In a few moments more he came in sight of it — a picturesque, red-roofed building, with stonecrop growing over the mellow tiles, and lichen coating the ancient walls. " Seems an uninhabited sort of place ; no business going on, anyway," he remarked to himself. " It would make a pretty picture. I'll go nearer and have a look at it. Perhaps I'll sketch it some day." For Leonard was something of an artist in his own line, and had acquired considerable facility with brush and pencil during his years of solitary travel.

He walked past the fall, looking critically Judith. 27 and admiringly at the old disused wheel, with its coating of green moss. Then his attention as an angler was attracted by the quiet depths of the mill-pool beyond ; and he was just pre paring to throw his line when a sudden move ment close at hand arrested him, and he snatched off his cap, a look of wondering admiration in his eyes. For he suddenly found himself face to face with a beautiful girl, so utterly different from any woman he had ever met before that he was half-disposed to ask himself whether she were not some water-nymph risen suddenly from the stream to confront him. Her long white dress, the coronal of waving dark hair crowning her head, her quiet self-possession and dignity, all served to impress him with a keen sense of wonder.

Who was she ? and whence could she have come ? and what could she be doing here ? These were the questions which rapidly passed through his mind : but all he said, as he stood cap in hand before her, was : " I trust I am not trespassing." " I do not know, sir," answered the girl in a voice that struck Leonard's sensitive ear as being wonderfully sweet. " The fishing belongs to Squire Hammond. If you are his guest, you have a right to be here." Judith. "I am his son," answered Leonard briefly. " Will that do as well ? " A smile shone out of the girl's dark eyes. " I hope you will have good sport, sir," she answered simply. " The pool has been very little fished this season." " Are you the guardian of the pool ? " asked Leonard, his curiosity getting the better of all other considerations. " I am the miller's daughter," answered Judith, with grave dignity.

"I live over yonder ; but I often cross in the punt to this copse here. I will return now, sir, before you begin to fish, else I shall disturb your sport." He would fain have detained her, but there was a quiet, simple stateliness about this girl which deterred him. He only went to the water's edge with her, and held the punt as she stepped lightly in. " I thought the mill was empty and shut up," he remarked, as she bent her head in a respect ful farewell. "It does not work now, but we live there still," answered Judith ; and the next minute the punt was half-way across the pool, propelled by her strong arms, whilst Leonard stood watching her graceful movements with a great wonder in his eyes.

Chapter III. Judith

moored her punt to its ring, and went slowly into the house. As she did so she passed the windows of her father's private room — a room he was wont to speak of as his "office" — and she heard proceeding thence the sound of voices : the cool, dry tones of her father's voice, and mingling with those, and often drowning them, the wailing, plaintive tones of a woman in some deep excitement or distress. An expression of the keenest repugnance and sorrow clouded Judith's face as she stood for a single moment listening to these sounds. Then she passed on rapidly into the house place of the mill, and commenced mechanically laying the table for tea. But the cloud still rested upon her brow, and from time to time she heaved a long sigh, as though some heavy weight lay upon her heart. Nor was this far from the truth.

For many years the methods employed by Michael Mor rison for the making of that fortune he was 2& Judith. 30 reported to be rapidly amassing had been a source of distress, first to his wife, and now to his daughter. Judith knew little enough of the details of this mysterious business of money lending — for that was, in fact, her father's sole business since he had shut up the mill ; but her common-sense and the rumours afloat in the town alike convinced her that the traffic was an unholy, if not a legally dishonest, one ; whilst the expressions too often to be seen upon the faces of those coming to or leaving the office would have been enough to convince her that there was something very evil in this form of money-getting ; and that it was too often simply trading upon the misfortunes of others, if not actually leading and tempting them to their ruin.