Norah Grey. A tale

Front matter

SPECIAL NOTICE.— The Newand Revised Edition con tains- Prefatory Remarks by the Right Hon. W. E. GLADSTONE, M.P., who has read and approved the Volume. THE STANDARD WORK ON AUTHORSHIP. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, price 5s. ; Postage, 4Jd. (Fifth Edition, New and Revised.) THE AUTHOR'S MANUAL: A Complete Practical Guide to all Branches of Journalism, Literary Work generally and Book-producing, -vith special advice in reference to L/naginalive Literature. By PERCY RUSSELL. BRIEF EXTRACTS FROM SOME OF THE REVIEWS: — The Spectator says :—" The aspirant to literature may certainly read Mr. Russell's book with profit." The Graphic says: — " Mr. Russell has got up his subject with much care and supplies a great deal of useful information. His advice and suggestions are sound and to the point." St. Stephen's Review says : — " ' The Author's Manual ' is clever to a fault.

It displays much practical knowledge^ it shows a general know ledge of English literature/wfrrr'rri' tfe*£»rie literary man in a hundred can boast." / y " ' \ The Newcastle ChronidleTsifslV €fha work must prove of great service, and will well repay careful beXusal."- The Birmingham Gaze tœ's^y&yi^'Ax is certa'nly a complete and com prehensive volume. Every defafF connected either with newspaper or book literature is explained, and explained, too, with the lucidity of an expert writer and the thoroughness of a practical worker." The Manchester Courier says : — "A handbook that will prove very use ful to all who aspire to write for the press in any of the various branches of literary work." The Literary World says : — " Cordially recommending Mr. Russell's vade mecitm." Notes and Queries says : — " The literary aspirant will find in this volume many useful hints and much valuable information.

What in regard to authorship can be taught, is pleasantly conveyed by Mr. Russell, and his chapters are instructive." Miss M. E. Braddon writes :—" Your counsel, both to the journalist and the imaginative writer, is full of wisdom.'' London: DIGBY, LONG & CO., Publishers, 18, Bouverie Street, Fleet Street, E.C. A Comple'e Catalogue of Novels, Travels, Biographies, Poems, &Zc. free by post on application. & Wt BY L. HARTLEY ILonOon ; DIGBY, LONG & CO., PUBLISHERS, 18, BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STREET, E.C CONTENTS.

Part II. Chapter

I. Six Years' Later ....... 78

CHAPTER II.

He Rides Away . . . . . . . .91

CHAPTER III.

Trehala Hall Contents. II

CHAPTER IV.

page The Discovery .... ... 108

CHAPTER V

The Picture Gallery 117

CHAPTER VI.

Stevie 131

CHAPTER VII.

The Midnight Attempt 143

CHAPTER VIII.

The Meeting 159

Part I. Chapter

I. THE CURATE'S DAUGHTER. The short November day was drawing to a close. It was only four o'clock, but already tlie lamps were beginning to be lighted in the little town of Ancaster, and the blinds in the houses were being pulled down one by one. It had been a dreary, muggy sort of day, half mist, half rain, and the few passengers in the streets hurried along, hardly stopping to cast a look at the many tempting things it Norah Grey. in the shops. There were not many shops, but the few there were, were of unimpeach able respectability : in fact, Ancaster was a town, though small in size, yet large in its own estimation and highly aristocratic in its feelirgs. There was a large abbey church in the centre of the town, standing in a beautiful Green. Half-a-dozen pretty, old-fashioned and quaintly-built houses dotted in amongst trees (which seemed to environ admiringly the picturesque buildings), surrounded and appeared to hem in the church and Green.

At the end of the principal street was another church, or chapel of ease, built in a more modern style, and close beside it and nestling up to it, was a lovely rose porched little cottage-house, in which re sided the poor curate, who worked hard at services from morning to night in the little chapel close by. He did not fare so sumptuously as his rector, who lived by the abbey church, and kept two modern curates to help him. These two exquisites were highly educated men, who lisped and flirted, attended five o'clock teas, played tennis, and on them the fair sex beamed and smiled. They came of good families and had ex pectations ! The Hon. and Rev. Lionel Vernon and the Rev. Algernon Stan well, the aforesaid curates, always smiled condescendingly and gazed approvingly at their own handsome broadcloth, whenever they met the poor curate of the chapel of ease, and whispered derisively to one another " There goes the Methodist."

And truly at heart and in his life the Rev. William Dornley was like a Methodist. His whole time was employed either in services or in visiting the poor, the sick and the wretched. He was no longer young, his hair was fast turning white ; sorrow had been busy with him. In one day he had lost his beloved wife and two beautiful boys of seven and eight; and he had been left alone with a baby girl of two. The older people in the little town well remembered the day when the treble funeral passed out from among the roses, followed by a bent and stricken man, who a week before had been hale and hearty. From that day dated his real life and his real ministry. He devoted himself to work ; his house was the home for all in trouble and sorrow, and he himself the one who tried to comfort others. And so in time he became com forted, and though never the same, still he was cheerful and apparently happy.

His little daughter, Rosie, had grown up, and was his right hand and helper in every good work. She was now twenty-two, and had an engagement in the morning as governess to a family living near. The other oc cupant of his house was a nurse-housekeeper, who thoroughly managed for him and his daughter. She had brought up Rose, and watched over her with a irrother's care. From the little rose cottage, the poorer part of the town commenced. There were some dark, dirty streets and houses in Ancaster, and these were left to the poor pastor, as it was simply impossible for the Hon. Lionel and the dainty Algernon to soil their guinea boots and get dust on their fine black coats in these dismal dens of human woe. " He is accustomed to those scenes," they slightingly told the good rector; "he revels in dirt and poverty," they lispingly assured the fair ones, when ever the other curate was mentioned.

And so they lived their lives of frivolity and luxury under the garb of religion, and the good old rector sighed and thought how young men differed from what they were in his day. He had many a chat with his poor curate, and entertained for him the greatest respect, and for his daughter quite a fatherly regard. She was a quiet, sensible girl, not good-looking, but very practical and kind. " Miss Rosie is so slow," lisped the curates, but they were in correct in their statement ; she was not slow, but a kind, motherly, matter-of-fact girl, who had a pleasant word for everyone she met and a helping hand for the helpless and poor. On this afternoon in November she was one of the few passengers who were pass ing swiftly down the muddy street of the little town. She was quite accustomed to being out in all sorts of weather.

En dowed by nature with a vigorous con stitution and splendid health, she was constantly to be met -vvith on days when the finer and more delicate of her sex stayed indoors. Rain, fog, snow and wind made no difference to her; every day she went in and out among the houses of the poor, carrying a little basket of dainties to first one poor old woman or sick child and then another. She was as much beloved by the poor as her father was, and her cheery smile and kind words helped to wile away the time for many poor sick children and old and infirm men and women. She was too wise to help the poor indiscriminately, she always helped them to help themselves, and the rector had such confidence in her judgment that he usually entrusted a good deal of money to her to be expended on their behalf. On this afternoon she had been making several purchases for her poor friends, and, tired and hungry, was hurrying home to the cheerful fireside which awaited her at the Rose Cottage.

Her father would be in from his labours and need a cup of tea before taking the five o'clock service, She was within a few yards of home when she was stopped by a short, brisk, dapper little man of some forty-five years. " Miss Rosie, will you do me a favour ? " " Certainly, Mr Lester," she replied. " "Will you, then, kindly give this letter to Mrs. Grey at once, for it is important. Please apologize to her for my not deliv ering it myself, but I am summoned away by telegram to a client at a distance, and have not a moment to spare." He spoke hurriedly, thrust the letter into her hand, but before she could reply had passed on, and disappeared in the mist and darkness. Rosie walked quickly on, and in a few minutes stopped before a large, roomylooking house of plain and forbidding aspect. It was in the poorer part of the town, and had a high wall built round three sides of it.

There was a small and rather untidy-looking garden in front, and as Rosie stood on the dirty doorstep and rang the bell, she sighed. It was at this house she taught in the mornings, and she knew the poverty which existed there. The letter was addressed to the " Hon. Mrs. Grey," but what a farce it seemed for it to be so worded, when she recalled the poor house and poorer appointments of the lady and the house. The bell was answered by a rough, wild looking, untidy child of about ten years of age, who, on seeing Rosie, blushed furiously and rushed away. " Norah," said Miss Dornley But no Norah reappeared, as she was evidently too ashamed of having been Norah Grey. discovered by her governess in such a dirty condition. A few minutes later, a tall, slim girl of fourteen, with long, fair hair, and neat dress, appeared, and shyly took the letter from Miss Dornley.

" Be sure, dear Kathleen, and give this letter to your mother at once, as it is very important." Mr. Lester's message having been given, Miss Dornley was turning away, when two long, lean arms were thrown round her, and kisses were showered on her, with the words, " I love you ! oh, I love you ! " Rosie quietly returned the child's em brace, but Kathleen hastily released her governess from the rough grasp, saying : " Go away, Norah, you naughty child ; you are always dirty and in mischief." The child's black eyes flashed and she clenched her little fist at her sister, but a quiet and sweet " Norah ! " from Rosie seemed to allay her passion, and she ran quickly away. As Rosie walked down the garden path she was fully aware that from the top attic window of that gloomy house two fierce black eyes were watching her with loving looks. Her influence over Norah Grey was most complete and marvellous.

CHAPTER II. THE LETTER.

The room was very small, but it was luxu riously furnished. There was a soft-pile carpet, and hand some curtains on each side of the window. One or two easy-chairs stood about, and on a lounging couch before a cosy fire reclined a beautiful lady of about thirty-six years. She was dressed in a loose-fitting wrapper of stylish make, but rather shabby. There was an elegant writing-table in one corner and a work-basket in the other ; one or two fine oil-paintings embellished the walls : one was of a dark, handsome man, tall and straight, with fierce, black, piercing eyes and a distingue look ; the other was of a lovely, fair girl of about seventeen, dressed in white, The Letter. 13 with a collie dog beside her. It was evi dently the picture of the lady on the couch when she was a girl : several half-sized portraits also hung on the walls.

The lady was on the point of rising when the door was softly opened and Kathleen glided in and stood beside her sofa. " Mother, are jow awake ? for here is an important letter for you from Mr. Lester, left by Miss Dornley." The lady sprang to her feet and in an excited tone said : " Leave the letter here, Kathie, and send Geraldine to me at once, and tell her to bring the lamp." Kathie withdrew, but not before the lady with trembling fingers had torn open the envelope. " Oh, heavens ! " she whispered, " if it should be a refusal I shall die of a broken heart." Norah Grey. Stooping down by the flickering fire-light she read the following words : " 50, Lincoln's Inn Fields. " To the Hon. Mrs. Grey. " Madam, — I am desired by his lordship the Earl of Camberwell to acknowledge the receipt of your letter to him.

He wishes me to say that he hopes you will never address another letter to him ; still, being a just man, he is fully aware of the truth of your remarks, and he is prepared to assist in the education of your son, whom he supposes will be his heir, on these conditions, namely, that you will never allow your son to enter his presence unsolicited, and that neither you nor any of your family ever again address him by letter. He will pay for your son Reginald Charles's education at Eton for six years, from his twelfth birthday until his eighteenth, then he will send him to Cam bridge University for two or three years ; he The Letter. 15 will also pay for his outfit once every year to the extent of twenty-five pounds, which will be sent to you by me every 25th of December. As we are given to understand the young gentleman's birthday is on January 10th, and that on that day he will be twelve years old, arrangements are being made now by his lordship for Reginald Charles Grey to be admitted into Eton after Christmas.

The Earl desires no thanks, he wishes to remind you that you were the cause of his son's disobedience and of his death, and he never intends to have any thing to do with any of your children or yourself ; his son Henry disobeyed him and you were the prompter. " Yours faithfully, " Clinton and Jones, Solicitors. The letter dropped from Mrs. Grey's thin hands, and as the tears fell on it she murmured " Thank God ! but oh that my darling had never seen me ; I have brought him nothing but misfortune. My crimes were beauty and poverty ; I have bitterly reaped the fruits of my sin." As she uttered these words the door was opened and a tall, elegant young lady entered the room, bearing a shaded lamp. She was followed by the wild-looking child Norah, who, on seeing her mother kneeling on the floor and weeping, sprang eagerly forward and, throwing her arms around the lady, begged her in excited tones to tell her who was so unkind as to make her cry.

Mrs. Grey querulously pushed the child away and rising, said to the elder girl : " Geraldine, read this and promise me never to write a line to your unnatural grandfather." Geraldine took the letter and read it in silence. Suddenly Mrs. Grey started up. " Read it aloud to me, though it is so cruel The Letter. 17 and it's hard to accept anything at his hands." Geraldine once more read the letter, this time aloud, not noticing the crouching figure of Norah, nor her flashing eyes as the closing sentences were read. As Geraldine finished, Norah sprang forward, cheeks red with anger, towards her mother, and stamping her foot, said in a rage : " Oh, I hate him ! I hate him ! the wicked old man to speak of you like that." Mrs. Grey turned quickly round. " Norah, you dreadful child, how can you be so wicked ?

You are a little fury, almost as bad as " here she stopped short and petulantly exclaimed to her eldest daughter, who stood in amazed silence beside her : " Take away the child and don't let her violent passions disturb me again." "Kiss me, mother; do, before I go," pleaded Norah, " for I love you so much, so very much." c But Mrs. Grey was upset, and though not an unkind mother, she did not like trouble, and Norah was troublesome with her wild, tempestuous disposition. Sho did not un derstand such an erratic and impulsive char acter, so said decidedly : " Go away, child, I am busy now ; and do try and control yourself better." Norah went without another word, and tearing upstairs to her little attic bed-room, flung herself on the hard mattress and sobbed as though her heart was broken. Presently, tired out, she fell asleep, where she was found two hours later by Kathleen, who roused her up and told her to come down to supper.

Norah obeyed meekly, and five minutes later entered the barely-furnished school-room, where her sisters and mother were already assembled. CHAPTER in. THH GREY FAMILY. They were all handsome children except Norah, and she was the youngest girl. There were eight of them. Geraldine, the eldest, was just seventeen, tall, stately and queen-like, with a fine oval face and golden hair. She was rather thin, and had a tired and anxious expression at times, having had very early in life to devote herself to the care of her younger sisters and brothers, and to the ailing and often fretful mother. Gradually, everything fell into the hands of the thoughtful and steady eldest daughter. She entirely super intended the cooking of the frugal dinners, and all the scanty wardrobes of the little Greys. The marketing, too, devolved upon Norah Grey. 20 her, and eking out the small income of three hundred pounds a-year so that seven grow ing girls and boys, herself, mother and one little maid should be well fed and decently clothed.

She had no time for pleasure, her whole morning was employed in household duties ; then in the afternoon she helped her sisters and brothers to prepare their lessons for Miss Dornley, and in the evening she mended their clothes and did her shopping. She always bought everything in the poor people's street and shops ; her purse was so scantily filled she could not venture into the better shops, as the prices would be too high for her pocket. Mrs. Grey depended upon Geraldine for everything, and she in her turn petted her mother and spared her all trouble. Rose Dornley was Geraldine's adviser and friend, and the only relaxation that Geraldine allowed herself was a weekly walk with Rose on Saturday afternoons to Glaston, a village two miles away from Ancaster, where Rose gave music lessons for two hours to the children at the Hall.

While Rose was busy with her lessons Geraldine always strayed into the lovely park and, while waiting for her friend, usually sketched the trees and pretty little pieces of scenery about her. This half-holiday was balm to her wearied spirit and tired fingers, and on her return to her duties she entered into them with a new zest. The next girl in age was Kathleen, who was just fourteen, pretty, tall, and slim, with long, fair hair, pink and white com plexion, blue eyes and sweet mouth. She was an amiable, thoughtful girl, fond of study and devoted to Geraldine and the beautiful mother. Twins of thirteen came next, who were named Mabel and Dorothy, and were tall, Nvrah Grey. lanky girls, giving promise of great beauty, but at present rather too angular to be graceful. They had the same brilliant com plexion as Kathleen, but their eyes were brown and soft like their elder sister's, their hair was brown, tinted with golden hues.

They were inseparable and took very little notice of any one else but Reggie, the next in age to them. He was verging on twelve. Then came Isabel, a sparkling brunette with soft Irish, grey eyes, red cheeks, rosy lips, very small and dainty looking, just one year younger than Peggie, a striking contrast in every way to Norah, who was nearly ten years old, and who was rough, plain and uncouth - looking. Her hair curled naturally, and fell below her shoulders in ringlets, and as she seldom brushed it much, it presented generally a tangled, miserable appearance, more like the mane of a wild Shetland pony than the hair of a little lady. She was an odd child, something quite different from any of the others ; all her fingers seemed thumbs, and she always said and did the wrong things in the wrong place.

No one loved her much, they could not, she was so fierce and passionate if at all pro voked. They did not understand her, and then she was so plain, " not at all a Grey," her mother said. Her sisters usually left her a good deal to herself; she seemed one apart from all the rest. She loved to perch herself in one large stunted oak tree which grew near the end of the long, bare garden. From there the lonely child could watch the play of other children in the road close by. Seated in the oak tree, hugging closely an old wooden doll, shabby, dirty, untidy Norah would dream dreams of future greatness. Her one heroine was Rose Dornley, and she also adored her mother, who had apparently very little love for her queer little daughter. Norah was not at all unhappy, she didn't mind being alone ; with her day dreams and her doll she passed away the hours, either in the tree or wandering about the town, or when wet, in her shabby little attic bed-room.

The youngest of the Grey family was Claude, just seven years old. He was loved by all the family ; with his cherub face and blue eyes no one could help it. Mrs. Grey doted on him, and he and Isabel spent all their time in her little boudoir. That was the only room in the house where there was any nice furniture. All the pretty things were reserved for the mother, and, blessed by her children's adoring love, Mrs. Grey strove to forget her troubles. Hers had been a hard life. She was not her husband's social equal, she was the daughter of a small Irish farmer, and had been brought up by a father who never withheld anything from her. Her .father's brother lived with them, and she had one brother, Ben, as he was always called, a bluff, good-natured and thorough Irishman. It was a quiet life in this little far-away village by the sea.

Emmeline Macartney was well educated, for in the village of Corraghee, where she lived, was an educated lady who had lived in France and who spoke German. To this lady the little Emmeline went every day for, at first, four hours, then six, to learn everything. At the age of twelve, Emme line's mother died. Her instructress then took up her abode at Farmer Macartney's house, and became governess to Emmie, and housekeeper to the farmer and his brother. After four years, Mrs. Stewart died, leaving Emmeline sole housekeeper and companion to her father, uncle and brother. The girl was very lovely indeed, and was known by everyone as the Cor raghee lily. She was adored by all around her. Everything went on well until one fair, sunny day, the little village was electrified by the entrance of a company of English soldiers.

They were com manded by two English officers, Major Ingleton and Captain Henry Grey, younger son of the Earl of Camberwell. There was only one house in the whole village where the two officers could possibly lodge, and that was the farmer's. They were received very graciously by him, and timidly wel comed by his lovely daughter. Time passed on, the soldiers left, but Emmeline Macartney's heart went too. Captain Grey and she were lovers, and engaged, without her father's knowledge. He was desperately smitten, and, too much in love to think of consequences, induced her to marry him secretly. She fled away from her home, was married to him, and the same week they set sail for India. Farmer Macartney refused to forgive her, and the Earl of Camberwell, incensed with his son for marrying beneath him, swore never to see him again.

Years passed away quickly, the Earl never forgave his son and never saw him again. Henry Grey sold out of the army, as a large family obliged him to be very careful of his expenditure. He never ceased to love his wife devotedly ; it was a happy marriage, but he grieved over his father's hard heartedness and died early in life. He had been dead now five years, and Mrs. Grey had lived at Ancaster all the time in great retirement, for they were very poor. No one visited them except the Dornleys, who were both very kind to Mrs. Grey. Mr. Dornley was her friend and adviser and Rose instructed her children, for a very small remuneration. Mrs. Grey had written repeatedly to her own friends, but had heard nothing of them, except that Ben had married a thrifty wife, who looked well after him, that her father was dead, her uncle still alive, but that they had left Corraghee and gone away no one knew whither.

Mrs. Grey rarely permitted any of the children to go out (only Geraldine to shop), except Norah, who oddly enough was allowed more liberty than the others. She could not be bound by rules, so came in and went out as she liked. Dressed in a plain serge dress (rather shabby), a short jacket, large hat and strong boots, she trudged along, fearless and alone, through the poor streets and the fine streets of Ancaster, unnoticed by anyone. She knew everyone by sight, and they all figured in her day-dreams. She was a shrewd, clever child in her own old-fashioned way, and took her gauge of most that went on around her. Miss Dornley smiled sadly to herself as she passed and re-passed the solitary child and said : " Poor Nor ah ! dear, loving Norah, what a pity no one understands t) you. The two elegant curates were well-known to Norah, who was very fond of sitting in a dark corner of the abbey church and listening to the music.

She used to watch the rector's stylish daughters also, as they passed to and fro across the green, and smiled grimly in her odd, unchildish way at the simpering glances thrown in their direction by these two gentlemen. Maud and Constance Vivian ( the rector's daughters ) were very regular in their attendance at their father's services ; there were others also Norah knew by sight in the abbey church. Mrs. Alleyne, her daughter Violet, and her two sons, Clement and Guy, were familiar figures to the little girl, and the Trelawneys, Hugh and Horace, boys of fifteen and fourteen, were objects of great interest to Norah. They lived with an old gentleman, their father, Sir Hugh Trelawney, Bart., in the largest house of the six which surrounded the green. The name of their house was Hinchcombe, and it was most beautifully furnished and situated.

Sir Hugh was reported to be immensely wealthy : he had one large estate in Ireland, another in "Wales, besides one in Scotland and an hotel in Paris. But his favourite residence was at Ancaster, where he had lived now for some years. All about the different families Norah had picked up from an old apple and potato woman, who had her stall close against one of the lych gates on the church green. Norah was very fond of sitting close to the little potato stall and listening to Betty Lane's long tales, who, on her side, was delighted to have such a regular customer and so good a listener.

CHAPTER IV. THE UNKNOWN FRIEND.

Norah took her place without a word, and proceeded to eat her piece of bread and butter and drink her glass of milk. Milk was cheap at Ancaster, so Geraldine always gave Isabel, Norah and Claude a glass each for supper, the others drank cocoa or tea. Mrs. Grey had a dainty little supper served in her own room at eight, which Kathleen attended to, for Geraldine always went out at eight to make her purchases for the next day. She took the little maid with her to carry home all she bought. The shops were close at hand, and she was seldom absent more than half-an-hour Meanwhile Kathleen put Claude to bed The Unknown Friend. and attended to her mother ; then, on Geraldine's return, retired to rest herself. She shared a large room with the twins ; Geraldine and Isabel slept together; Mrs. Grey had Claude in her room and Reggie in her dressing-room.

All these rooms were on the same floor, but above were a large, long play-room and two front attics, one for Norah and the other for the maid. No notice was taken of Norah beyond passing her a second piece of bread and butter, but the conversation went on briskly. She had sharp ears and a still tongue. She seldom spoke at table, but listened attentively to all the others said. She had a most reten tive memory, for which no one gave her credit. She was so mouse-like and apparently uncon scious that Mrs. Grey and Geraldine often discussed family matters before her without in the least perceiving her presence. Norah gathered from the remarks her sisters let fall D that her mother had told Reggie he was to go to school. " Just fancy, to Eton, Kathie," he was saying. "I thought only swells went there; and we are so poor, we cannot be swells."