An Old Chronicle of Leighton

Front matter

Just ready, uniform with 'AN OLD CHRONICLE OF LEIGHTON.' Extra crown Zvo, cloth extra, Illustrated, price y. 6d., NORMAN REID, M.A. By Jessie Patrick Findlay, A utkor of ' The Lost Tide, ' By the Author of 'AN OLD CHRONICLE OF LEIGHTON.' o4»o Crown Svo, cloth extra, with Frontispiece^ price 3^. 6d, BARBARA LEYBOURNE: 31 Storg of Eifrijtg gears "ago. ' Few readers ivill lay down this fascinating story without finishing //.'—British Weekly. ----- LE IGHTO N Frontispiece. By SARAH SE LIN A HAMER Author of 'Barbara Leybourne,' etc. etc. Oliphant Anderson and Ferrier Edinburgh And 24 Old Bailey London iSgo. Printed by Morrison and Gibb. Edinburgh for OLIPHANT ANDERSON &> FERRIER EDINBURGH AND LONDON MY OLD FRIENDS AT 'LEIGHTON' AND TO THE DEAR MEMORY OF HER WHO WAS IN SOME MEASURE THE PROTOTYPE OF ' FA CHEL RA WS THORN E ' I DEDICATE THIS VOLUME

Chapter I

' Alas, that love, whose view is muffled, still should, without eyes, see pathways to his will.' <Mg SJkHE little town of Leighton was a very different j)ES_ ;S_£ P^ace> in early part of the present century, from Itssc©;! what it is in this year of grace 1890. Like many other towns, especially in the North of England, it has in the interval grown in wealth, population, and importance ; it has also grown in ugliness. Huge mills and long rows of cottages, anything but æsthetic, now occupy the ground where then stood an old ancestral hall and fine far-spreading trees. For, more like the strong castles of mediæval times than the later homes of the landed gentry, Leighton Hall, with its small park, was quite near the very heart of the town, and could be reached in a few minutes from the Market Place.

Glimpses of its trees and lawns could then be obtained by the vendors of produce in that place of trade, where now vistas of another kind — smoke-begrimed streets — open out to their successors. And while to the ears of the latter penetrate LELGHTON. 10 the hum and buzz of a thousand wheels, those delicate little organs of their forefathers might have heard the hum of insects and the song of birds from the adjoining park and Throstle Hill beyond. Not that there were no sounds of industry in Leighton at that time, to mingle with those of insects, birds, and waving trees ; but the ' tickety-tack ' of the handlooms which issued from the scattered cottages scarcely reached the Market Place. This Market Place, then as now, took the form of an irregular triangle, and from each corner of it branched a road.

One of these led to the Hall and Throstle Hill, and also communicated with a long, straggling part of the town, known as ' Th' Bottom o' th' Churchfields.' Another — at its beginning roughly parallel with the one mentioned — was the high road to Waverdale, a town five or six miles away. Immediately, it led by the Rectory and an old hostelry called the Saracen's Head, both on the left hand, towards the church, finely elevated on the right, a field's length from the road. The latter was a turreted structure, grey, venerable, and commanding in appearance. The third road from the Market Place was the high road to Changeford, the great town of the district; a fourth, close to it at its commencement, had recently been made, leading to the same place by a more direct route. Regarding the beginning of the Old Changeford Road as the vertex of the triangle, the base of it was chiefly occupied by the Leighton Arms, an old-world inn, the sign of which had been so long painted that an ambassador from the Heraldry Office itself would have had some difficulty in deciphering the said ' Arms.' It was the afternoon of an August day, early in this century.

The sun blazed, without the interposition of a merciful cloud, full upon the Market Place at Leighton and down the Waverdale Road. Scarcely any one was in sight, for most of those who could do so, preferred to keep in the shade. But youth is proverbially adventurous, and heat or cold is little noted by it; so amongst the few who did venture to run the gauntlet of the sun that hot afternoon, was Godfrey Leighton, the eldest son of the Squire, and heir to Leighton Hall. It is his fine young figure we see crossing the Market Place, turning the corner by the Leighton Arms, and going up the Waverdale Road, his destination being evidently the Rectory. Let us follow him thither. When young Squire Leighton entered the Rectory grounds, a very few of his long strides brought him to the door of the Rectory itself.

Before he reached it, however, he cast an eager glance through a large low window he passed. It was only met, however, by green blinds, drawn down to exclude the sun. ' Is Mr. Theo in, Jenkins ? ' he asked, when the man-servant opened the door. ' No, sir, he went out a short time ago,' was the answer. ' How is Mr. Drayton to-day ? ' next asked the young Squire. ' Gout's a bit better, sir. Will you come in, sir ?' said Jenkins. ' I think I will. Is Mr. Drayton— ? ' ' I think he's lying down in the library, sir. Miss Darrington is in the drawing-room.' Jenkins opened the door, and Godfrey walked into the drawing-room — the man omitting to announce him ; he was a very frequent visitor. At first it seemed as though Jenkins had been mistaken, and that Godfrey was the only occupant of the room; for the transition from the glare outside to the shade within was so great, that his eyes had to become accustomed to the altered light before he could perfectly descry anything.

Even in summer, on entering a room, an Englishman generally steers towards the hearth, and Godfrey Leighton did so, wondering meantime that no voice greeted him. He understood it, however, when he reached the sacred spot ; for curled up there, in a large chair, fast asleep, was the figure from whom he expected the greeting. It was that of a beautiful young girl. One lily hand drooped over the arm of the chair, whose upholstery was amber damask, which formed a fitting background for the mass of dark curls resting against it. Long dark eyelashes drooped over a face that looked, in the dim light, like chiselled marble. The delicately curved lips were slightly apart, and the girl's gentle, regular breathing told of a peaceful, dreamless sleep. The new-comer stood perfectly still, and looked down upon the beautiful sleeper.

Though the good people of Leighton had, as we shall see anon, already begun to couple their names together, such a thought, as that he, Godfrey Leighton, and the young girl before him should or would 'make a match,' had never distinctly formulated itself. Playmates in their childhood, and friends since, a strong affection had grown with their growth and strengthened with their strength ; but hitherto passion had slumbered. It was a curious circumstance, and an odd kind of antithesis, that the gazing for the first time upon the object of it sleeping, should rouse that dormant feeling into life. As he looked down upon the unconscious girl, a great wave of tenderness rose in the young man's soul, and his heart began to throb fast with a new, strange emotion. All Godfrey Leighton's feelings and impulses were strong ones, and this incoming tide of passion and illumination was characteristic in its strength.

How young, how childlike, how innocent she looked ! For a sew short minutes Godfrey drank great draughts of delight, as he gazed at the form he for the first time recognised as for him ' the fairest under heaven.' Then he began to doubt his right thus to gaze, and was reluctantly turning away to steal out of the room, when the girl suddenly opened her eyes, and, in amazement, sprang to her feet. ' Mr. Godfrey ! ' she exclaimed, a rich colour flushing her cheek. ' Do forgive me ! ' said the young fellow, stretching out his hand and grasping hers. 'I assure you I would not have intruded, had I known you were ' — There Godfrey paused. He was only young ; but he knew already, what you and I know, namely, that, as a rule, one might as well charge one's fellow-creatures with a crime, as with having been asleep out of proper sleeping hours.

People have been known to say that they ' haven't slept a wink,' when they have lain snugly in the arms of Morpheus for an hour or more ; and have considered themselves quite insulted by the communication of that fact. In this case, however, the discoverer need not have been so scrupulous about bringing his impeachment. When Godfrey stopped short, Constance Darrington laughed and blushed again as she said, — ' It is my own fault. The drawing-room is no place to sleep in. I had no idea of doing so, either. I read to uncle for a little while after luncheon, and then he thought he could sleep a little, so I left him and came here, and curled myself up and began to — to think,' — here the girl released her hand, which, somehow, had remained in Godfrey's grasp, — ' and I remember feeling very hot and drowsy ; and — the next thing I knew was that— you were here.' The girl raised her beautiful dark eyes to the young man's face as she finished her true confession, and she met a look there that she had never seen before — one which brought the lids tremblingly down again ; and in some confusion she said, — for all this time they had been standing on the hearth, — ' Will you not sit down, Mr. Godfrey ? ' At the same time she resumed her own seat. 'Thank you, yes,' said Godfrey, taking the chair nearest to Constance's. ' Theo has gone to the church,' she said. ' To play the organ, I suppose ? ' ' Yes, of course.

Music is half Theo's life.' ' Your uncle is better, Jenkins tells me.' ' Yes, thank you — very much better.' After this short conversation a great shyness stole over the two. Godfrey's look, on their first greeting, still haunted Constance ; indeed, she was conscious that there was some thing unusual about his manner altogether, — his voice, for one thing, seemed to have a slight tremble in it. She herself, too, was actually trembling — and how absurd it was ! For, after all, though it was awkward enough, there was nothing so very, very dreadful in having been caught asleep by an old friend such as Mr. Godfrey was. At any rate, it could not be helped now ; and she must break away somehow from this embarrassment, In pursuance of this object, Constance cast about in her mind for something to say, at the same time wondering at her companion's unwonted silence.

At length she hit upon the very original remark, or rather question, — ' Don't you think this weather insufferably hot, Mr. Godfrey?' ' I do, indeed, Miss Constance.' Another pause. I wonder if there is a cool spot to be found anywhere ? ' persevered Constance. ' I should say the cellar is as cool as anywhere,' said Godfrey. And with this, the two broke simultaneously into a merry laugh. 'The church will be the next best place,' said Godfrey presently. ' I am serious now,' he added ; ' let us go there, and listen to Theo for a while.' ' I think that is a good idea,' said Constance, rising ; ' but I will go, first, and see if uncle is all right.' Constance, therefore, left the room ; and Godfrey, notwithstanding the heat, walked up and down in it, looking into his heart and wondering at himself, and at this bright, beautiful flower of love, which had so suddenly sprung up there. ' It has been growing all along, no doubt,' he said to himself, ' only I did not know it — and now the bud has suddenly expanded.' The thought and the question arose, too, in his mind : — ' Has the feeling been growing in her heart also ? ' The bare thought of a possible negative wrung the young Squire's heart.

The revelation had been sudden, but it had been complete. He knew that henceforth life would have no charm unless Constance loved him. A few moments more, and the girl came back arrayed in hat and scarf, and looking so lovely, that it was all the young fellow could do to resist clasping her in his arms, there and then, and confessing his love. But he would not be premature, he told himself. He must teach her to love him before he spoke of his feelings. And they were both very young ; at any rate, he must wait until he came of age next spring ; even then Constance would be only nineteen. And so, with his mind busy with these thoughts, and his heart thrilling with its first young, ardent passion, the young Squire crossed the Waverdale Road with the object of it. Leighton Church, dedicated to St. Alban, is a very ancient AN OLD CHRONLCLE OF LEIGHTON. structure; it is so old, in fact, that its early annals have perished.

It is rich in stained glass windows, and has a fine carved screen dividing the nave from the chancel. From the vestry, lying north of the latter, two doors open— one into the body of the church itself, the other into the chancel. The latter happened to be the one Theo Drayton, the Rector's son, had used and left open ; and by this door Godfrey and Constance entered. ' Let us stay here a few minutes,' suggested Godfrey ; ' it would be a pity to interrupt Theo just now.' He spoke in a low tone, and he looked at her with the new look ; and again the eyes of Constance fell before Godfrey's. The music of a sweet voluntary, by Sebastian Bach, was stealing along the aisles and reverberating in the old oak roof. The girl was strangely moved ; she took a few steps toward the altar, away from Godfrey, in order to hide her confusion ; but he immediately joined her. ' How beautiful the window looks this afternoon ! ' he half whispered. ' Yes ; the strong light brings out the colours well,' she said, in an equally low tone.

Now the great east window in Leighton Church consists chiefly of the coats of arms of the old families in the neigh bourhood ; some still flourishing, others long since, root and branch, dead and gone. Amongst the former, the arms of the Fairhursts of Fairhurst then held and still hold a con spicuous place, their shields, crests, etc., being next in import ance, in fact, to those of the Leightons of Leighton. As Constance spoke, Godfrey's eye happened to rest upon the Fairhursts' shield, and the sight of it brought a great fear, and the fear brought a new impulse. In a month's time he should be away from Leighton — back at Oxford. Frank Fairhurst, on the other hand, who, when at home, was a very frequent visitor at the Rectory, had just completed his college course, and would be at liberty to go thither as often as he liked.

What might not happen ? Nay — what was sure to happen ? In company with all young enthusiasts, Godfrey Leighton thought that the object of his worship must be the shrine before which all other men must bow, had they the oppor tunity. His nature was essentially an impulsive one, and he was under the influence of a new, strong feeling. Constance, who wore a dress of snowy muslin, made half low, as was the fashion of the period, had unconsciously allowed her scarf to slip away from her shoulders. So she stood there in the chancel, a pure white figure, her hands lightly clasped before her, her eyes raised to the window, looking, as Godfrey said to himself, 'like a beautiful saint' He was standing close to her right hand, before the altar, exactly in the orthodox position for the marriage ceremony.

An overmastering impulse seized the young fellow, and, almost before he was conscious of resolve, his arm stole round the waist of Constance, and, turning to her with a world of love in his eyes and of tenderness in his voice, he said, — ' Constance, will you stand here with me some day, and promise to be my wife ? Constance, I love you dearly ! ' The girl trembled, and vainly tried to speak or look up. ' Put your hand into mine, darling, if I may hope,' whispered Godfrey. Slowly but surely the little white hand began to move up wards. It was caught half-way, firmly grasped, and fervently kissed. ' Constance, I love you better than the whole world — more than my life ! ' F. And though the harmonies from the organ, away up in the west gallery, rose and fell, and flooded the whole edifice with melody, it was not half such sweet music to Constance as were these utterances of Godfrey's; for her newly awakened heart echoed every word, though, as yet, she had found no voice. 'Let us kneel!' said Godfrey the next moment.

The two young creatures were close to the communion rail — it only needed the slightest movement — what impulse more natural ? How beautiful they and their surroundings looked, as they thus knelt, is more easily imagined than described. Godfrey's fair hair was tossed back, his fine face was flushed, his eyes luminous with tenderness. Constance's dark lashes rested on her cheeks, her colour came and went, and her hand trembled in Godfrey's. Behind them was the richly carved oaken screen, before them the finely coloured east window, below that, the communion table covered with a rich velvet cloth. Through an open arch to the right, glimpses could be had of the marble tablets, tombs, and recumbent figures of departed Leightons — this being the family's private chapel. And slanting in from the south-west came the broad sun beams, brilliant with the varied tints they had borrowed from the stained windows in passing through, and, resting upon the bowed heads of youth and maiden, crowned them with many-hued light. ' We will be true to each other until death,' said Godfrey, in an earnest, passionate undertone. 'Until death!' echoed Constance softly, speaking for the first time.

They knelt silently tor a few moments, and then the young Squire gently raised his betrothed and solemnly kissed her. ' Let us go into the chapel,' he said. Hand in hand they passed under the dividing arch, and Godfrey placed Constance in a capacious carved oaken chair, which his father was accustomed to occupy on Sundays. This seat of honour was placed at the foot of the tomb of an old Crusader, whose recumbent, cross-legged effigy had lost several toes and fingers in the gentle but resistless warfare of time, since he himself had lain down for his last sleep, at the siege of Ascalon. Constance seated, Godfrey brought from its place his Aunt Barbara's footstool, and seating himself upon it, at her feet, held the girl's hand. And gradually the strangeness of it all passed into the background, and the beauty and joy of it came to the front. ' Can you not speak to me now, darling ?

I want to hear you say that you love me,' pleaded Godfrey by and by. Constance opened her beautiful eyes fully upon him, dropped them again, and said simply, ' I love you, Godfrey — as — us you said.' ' What ? — better than all the world ? ' In his great joy, he rapturously kissed the hand he held, again and again. But soon a very sobering thought came into the minds of both. 'What — what will your father say?' asked Constance timidly. ' He'll say we're very young to — to be engaged, I daresay ; but'— 'You know that I am poor — entirely dependent upon my uncle, I believe.' It was a matter upon which she had hitherto thought little or nothing. 'Oh, it is not money my father cares for,' said Godfrey. ' Good blood and stainless honour, and all that kind of thing, are what he thinks about. You don't know,' he added laughingly, 'that your grandfather or great-grandfather ever did anything disgraceful, or deserved hanging in any way ? ' Constance laughed too, at this question — the sweetest, lightest-hearted laughter it was.

Both her hands were im prisoned in Godfrey's, and each was looking at the other, as the most precious thing in life, as a merry ' No ' escaped her lips. 'And as for good blood, you know,' went on Godfrey, 'the Draytons are quite equal to the Leightons.' ' I am not a Drayton,' said Constance simply. ' But your mother was, and you are a Darrington, which is better still,' said Godfrey. 'I heard my father once say to some one that yours was a very old family — though he said he had never known any of the Darringtons personally, except, of course, you, my darling.' 'I know next to nothing about my father's family,' said Constance ; ' my uncle never mentions them at alL I suppose he thinks I shall take no interest in them, as my father died when I was a baby.' The girl paused, and then, with the humility of true love impelling her from within, and the many tokens of buried greatness around her, spurring her from without, she said with a sigh, — 'I am afraid your father will think you ought to have chosen better.' I will leave to the imagination of my readers the loving words and arguments which Godfrey poured forth, showing the utter impossibility of such a thing. ' So do not look so serious, my darling,' he ended. ' We have nothing to fear.

He may think we are too young ; but we shall overcome that difficulty. And if he thought even more than he does — though that would hardly be possible, I think,' laughed Godfrey — 'about family, and a spotless pedigree, and all that, he must be satisfied with my choice.' We mortals are not, as a rule, difficult to convince on any point, when our wishes take sides with our opponent in argument, and Constance found the process of being defeated very delightful. The shadow had quite passed away from her face when she remarked, — 'Your father has so much here to remind him of his ancestors ; and you, Godfr — Mr. Godfrey, are you ' — ' No, no ! Godfrey ! ' interrupted the happy young lover. 'Well, then, Godfrey,' repeated Constance, looking shyly happy. ' Are you not also proud of your name and of your forefathers ? ' By a slight movement of her head, Constance indicated the kneeling figure of a certain ' Godefrey Leighetone,' who had distinguished himself under the Black Prince, in the French wars of that period.

Godfrey acknowledged to a certain amount of pride in his ancestor's prowess ; but you may be sure that he took occasion to tell Constance that he was far prouder of having won her love. There were other 'Godefreys' lying in that little chapel, besides the follower of the Black Prince, and there were 'Johannems' and 'Bernardvms' many; with their befrilled dames and ' filias ' kneeling in neat rows behind them. One of the Leightones, his tombstone informed all readers, had lought for the Earl of Richmond at Bosworth field, and had been rewarded with ' certain lands and hereditaments,' though not in large measure; for, as everybody who reads history knows, Henry the Seventh was too fond of money himself ever to be very liberal to others. Then, best of all, there was the wonderful Crusader, with his feet crossed over a very peculiar kind of dog ; and his beautiful lady, with the stiff folds of her marble dress enveloping her. ' Let us go ! ' said Constance somewhat suddenly, but still smiling gaily. 'I shall get frightened again, if we stay here longer.' 'Just a minute, darling,' said Godfrey, rising, and thus permitting Constance to do so. ' I shall speak to my father the first opportunity, — to-night, I hope, — and then I must see your uncle.

Isn't that the proper course?' Constance blushed, Godfrey fondly kissed her, and then together they left the chapel. 'See,' said Constance, walking across a portion of the chancel to a stone forming part of the pavement, 'this is my mother's grave. It was a large slab inlaid with a small brass plate, upon which the two read an inscription in Latin. Translated, it ran thus : ' Sacred to the memory of Dorothy Darrington, the dearly beloved sister of the Rev. Francis Theophilus Drayton, Rector of this parish.' Then followed the date, some fifteen years before. ' Dear mamma ! I just remember her ! ' said Constance. ' Your father was not buried here, it seems,' said Godfrey. ' I suppose not' The thought just crossed Godfrey's mind that the wording of the inscription was a little odd; but it passed without leaving any impression ; and Constance merely thought, — ' I shall ask uncle more about papa.' And then they stood together for a minute, hand in hand under the arch in the oaken screen, giving entrance to the body of the church, and the sun kissed them with its warmth and brightness, and the sweet music flooded their souls ; and their love made them very happy.

But suddenly the sun was obscured by a cloud, and the music changed from a major into a minor key, and became a kind of wail. Constance shivered, and said, — ■ ' Take me home now, Godfrey. We will not speak to Theo, I think' ' Is anything the matter, darling ? Why, you are positively shivering ! The church is too cold for you.' ' I feel, Godfrey, as if — as if' — ' What, darling ? Tell me.' ' As if this happiness were too great to last.' ' Oh, you must not say that ! ' exclaimed Godfrey, and he drew her once more into the chancel, and they kissed each other tenderly. But, in some subtle way, the increasing darkness and the wail in the music, still more Constance's words, affected Godfrey too, and they left the church with the sweet rose of love in full bloom in their hearts, but with the little accompanying thorn of anxiety making itself felt also.

And Theophilus Drayton, junior, up in the organ gallery, and absorbed in his music, was entirely unaware that he had had any audience, or that he had helped both to brighten and sadden two susceptible young hearts, or that to his accompaniment his cousin and the young Squire had pledged themselves, in the old, old duet of love, to be ' True unto death.' -^gp-

Chapter II

' It is in vain, I see, to argue 'gainst the grain, For, when disputes are wearied out, 'Tis interest still resolves the doubt. Butler's Hudibras, we before remarked, few people ventured out of Vy|™W doors that hot August afternoon already spoken &xj$LX£) of. But now and then, a thirsty weaver would cross the Market Place, or turn the corner from 'Th' Bottom o' th' Churchfields,' in order to assuage his thirst at the Leighton Arms. Quite a little company, in fact, had assembled in the right-hand parlour of that hostelry, for, once there, it was a temptation to remain there — in the shade. And as the men smoked and drank their beer, they talked, with more or less energy, and in their strong northern dialect, of many things, including, of course, as became true Britons, the weather, which they all prophesied would soon ' break down.' But the chief topics of conversation were the bad state of trade, politics, and the war. 'There never will be no more thrade i' this counthry,' remarked one man, ' wi' all this cursed new machinery.' ' Yigh, Sammy,' said another man near to him, setting down on the table, with an emphatic thump, the tankard he had just emptied, ' there'll be plenty o' thrade for th' maisters, an' I dar' say they'll mak' a sight o' money.

But it's poor folk like us 'at thou'rt thinkin' abeawt, as are havin' th' bread takken eawt o' their mouths while they're doin' it.' ' Ay, sure,' responded the man addressed as Sammy. ' Things '11 work reawnd i' time, yo'll see,' came from a high pitched voice in the corner. The speech was followed by several very vigorous puffs from a long clay ' churchwarden,' which seemed to give point and emphasis to the sentiment. ' Work reawnd ! ' echoed the first speaker, but in a tone of scorn. ' A dyel o' good that'll do us, if we're clemmed * to t' death first. Curse th' machines, I say ! ' ' It's peace 'at we wanten,' growled a short, thick-set man. ' It's peace an' retrenchment' ' Ay, an' reform,' added another voice. The national cry for more equal representation in the House of Commons had not yet become strong, but it was beginning to be faintly sounded.

How speedily it gathered strength, and how it was stifled and crushed, and for long years allowed to go unsatisfied, are now matters of history. ' Why,' said the man with the highly-pitched voice, whose name was Jonathan Fielding, and who had a round, good natured lace, ' we'st be worse off nor we are now, when peace is made ; yo'll see that' ' Heaw does ta make that eawt?' asked the thick-set man. ' Why, look at th' army — what providin' they needen, wi' a' sorts o' things. An' look what a rook o' felleys 'ould be at a lose end, if th' feightin' were o'er.' The 'churchwarden,' which had been elevated in the air during the delivery of this speech, was returned to Jonathan's * ' Clemmed ' = starved. mouth, and puff, puff came the smoke, curling up to the ceiling in divers and wondrous gyrations and curves. 'Then yo' thinken war better for th' country nor peace, Jonathan, dun yo'?' asked a fellow-smoker. ' Nay, I never said so,' said Jonathan. ' Peace is th' best, of coorse, but things '11 hae to work reawnd a bit, afore we han th' benefit on it' ' What's th' use o' talkin' abeawt peace, while that Boney's knockin' abeawt i' th' world ? ' growded the man who had first suggested its desirability. 'Well, he's takken a longish journey this time,' said one. ' Who knows ? 'Appen he's gwon a step too far.' 'The devil's wi' him, as wherever he is,' said the short man, with another growl. ' Ay, an' he'll ruin him yet, yo'll see,' said Jonathan, ' aither i' Rooshia or somewhere else.