Old Myddelton's Money

Chapter I

Thousand serfs do call me master — But, O love, I love but thee. E. B. Browning. " TJONOR CRAVEN, ■*--"■ " Come with me to-day to call upon a friend at a distance. Mrs. Disbrowe provokes me beyond endurance by being too ill to make herself useful in any way. I shall be at the station at one o'clock. Mind you are punctual ; I hate unpunctuality, which is only another name for insult. Never mind about your best bonnet, but be sure you have on a clean collar. "Edna Payte." Honor, laughing a little over this letter, went to seek Miss Haughton and beg the holiday. VOL. II. B "If you like to lower yourself by being at the beck and call of every old woman in the village," remarked Jane, with a not very strict adherence to fact, " I have nothing to say against it. Please yourself." " Thank you," said Honor, her very tone be traying how, for her, the chiefest and purest pleasure was won by pleasing others.

" Going with old Mrs. Payte !" exclaimed Phœbe, when she found her cousin dressed to start, and surreptitionsly enjoying bread-and butter beside the kitchen fire. " Well, I do wish you joy, Honor ! And going without your luncheon too !" " Yes ; and without the faintest idea of where I'm going, or whom I am going to see," observed Honor, gravely discussing her mild repast. " How lovely you look !" blurted Phœbe, unable to restrain her admiration. " Good-bye, little Frau." Mrs. Payte was impatiently pacing the station platform when Honor arrived, and she turned sharply on the girl with a reprimand. But somehow the anger left her eyes when they rested on the beautiful face and figure. " I don't know how it is," she mused, half closing her shrewd eyes ; " Theodora Trent dresses more handsomely and expensively, and Phœbe Owen more showily, yet they never look as Honor does ; she is like an exquisite picture."

" Of course you're late," she remarked, aloud. " It's old-fashioned to be punctual. Well, never mind ; next century it will be old fashioned to be late. Now, here's the train. Find me a corner seat, with my back to the engine." "What's the matter?" asked the little old lady, from her corner seat, as the train rolled on. " Is my bonnet all on one side ?" " No, indeed," said Honor, ashamed of being caught in her long gaze ; " I was only thinking how very nice you look." "Ah, I thought something surprised you," observed Mrs. Payte, with a complacent glance into the window beside her, as if it were a mirror. " You miss my brown hat. I left it at home for to-day. It's against my principles to b2 wear a brown hat in Friesland. You know what happened to the traveller who did ?" " No," said Honor, smiling, " I don't indeed."

" Well, then, you ought to know it, though I can't say that I do. At any rate he tried to go through Friesland in a brown hat, and he couldn't ; but whether he escaped with his life or not I really forget." " What do they wear in Friesland, then ?" " Wear I It would take me all our journey to tell you. Knitted caps ; then high silk skull caps ; then metal turbans, and then large flaunt ing bonnets. What's the use of laughing? It's the custom of the country." " Do you know I should have fancied " and then Honor stopped, blushing. "Fancied what?" " That you," resumed Honor, daringly, though the shy blush deepened, " would have been the very one to choose a brown hat for Friesland, just to show the Frieslanders how little you cared for their opinion." " Should you ?" questioned the old lady, very slowly, as she favoured Honor with a long and trying gaze.

" That particularly brilliant idea of yours is founded on the fact of my going to the Abbotsmoor pic-nic in my gardening hat and gown. How very little discrimination children possess ! Now amuse yourself, I want to read the deaths." " Langham Junction ! Change here for- " Oh, my goodness, Honor !" cried Mrs. Payte, rousing herself in great excitement. " Perhaps we have to change too. Guard, guard !" The guard came up to the carriage door, too much accustomed to the frantic excitement of lady passengers even to smile. " Do we change here for Westleigh — West leigh Towers ? I don't think this was the name of the station, and yet I forget." "You can reach Westleigh Towers from here," the guard said, politely, " but it's a very long drive, ma'am. This train stops at West leigh, two stations on ; that's best for you."

" We are to be met, so pray direct us rightly," observed Mrs. Payte, settling herself in her seat again. " If the carriage from the Towers is to meet you, miss, " the man said, addressing Honor now, "it will be at Westleigh station. It's often there, and they wouldn't be so silly as to send here, unless it was to meet a train that went no further than the junction." " Thank you." " How officious those railway men are I" remarked Mrs. Payte, pulling up the Avindow sharply. " Why didn't he say ' Yes ' or ' No ' at once, and have done with it ? There, don't argue for them, pray. Here are the papers full of arguments — except the deaths. Now look out for our station. What !" she cried, when Honor roused her presently. " Westleigh already? Are you quite sure? Make in quiries." Honor pointed to the name, painted in huge letters on a board above the platform.

" Oh, nonsense ; one can't trust those things," grumbled the old lady, fussily. " Ask a porter." Honor asked the porter, her eyes full of ir repressible laughter. Yes ; that was West leigh, and a carriage was waiting. Honor looked a little curiously at this carriage when she saw it outside the station gate. It was a long barouche, and the coachman on the box, and the footman who held the door, were dressed in a handsome livery of white and green. " I have Where have I seen that livery before ?" thought Honor. " Mrs. Payte, have I ever seen this carriage at your door ?" she asked, as they drove on, the servants being so far before them, in the long carriage, that there was no fear of the conversation being heard. " Never." " Have I seen the servants at your cottage ?" she continued, still puzzled.

" No ; what should bring them to my cottage ? My being met so to-day is no proof that I've a visiting list of aristocrats ; don't imagine it. I know no more of Westleigh Towers at this moment than you do ; but I like the owner of it, and when he asked me to go to-day I said I would. There's no mystery about the thing at all. Where are we turning? Oh, this, I suppose, is the park." " I — I — wish I had not come," Honor faltered, nervously, as she gazed before her. For miles the park stretched around them, wooded and undulated, crossed by its silvery stream, and flecked by its roaming herds of deer ; but almost close to them rose the Towers, built in solid stone, and with the faultless pro portions of the best time of Gothic architecture ; and Honor's eyes were fixed upon one figure, standing then upon the wide steps, waiting for the carriage.

"Mrs. Payte," she said, below her breath, " whom have you — come to see ?" " Mr. Keith, child. Don't you see him ?" " He lives here then, alone ?" " He lives here, certainly," returned the old lady, with a grim little smile. " As for ' alone,' that's a question I can't answer. I have heard something about an old lady who lives with him ; but whether it's true or not, and whether, if it's true, she's any relation or not, I'm sure I cannot say. We may possibly see her to-day." " I wish I had not come." Fortunately Mrs. Payte did not chance to hear that last remark, for she was fussily pre paring to alight ; and now Royden Keith stood beside the carriage-door, and Honor's hand was in his. "I am so glad to see you," he said, with quiet heartiness. " How d'ye do ? You seem to have a house full of visitors," observed Mrs. Payte, in a breath, as she glanced towards the windows.

" Only old friends — whom you have met before." " Oh !" The news seemed to mollify the old lady considerably, and she walked placidly into the midst of these " old friends," more than one of whom had stared, with a feeling deeper and more dangerous than curiosity, to see her driving up in such style, and bringing Honor with her. Theodora Trent turned from the window, with her teeth tight upon her under-lip. " For her to come !" she thought. " How meanly it has been arranged !" " Theo, my dear," whispered her mother, startled, " that horrible little woman's sharp eyes are upon you, and I believe she would tell any thing to either Mr. Keith or Hervey. Don't let her have cause to say you are jealous, my dear. Show your superiority over Honor. She will hardly know how to conduct herself in such a magnificent place as this, while you will show yourself quite at home."

But even this delicate maternal compliment could not soothe Theodora's ruffled feelings, and she had great difficulty in regaining her calm and gracious bearing. She felt baffled and angry, as she had never felt before in all her life. For weeks she had been looking forward to this day ; and so strongly had she hinted to Mr. Keith that she should have more pleasure in her visit if she did not meet her own relations at his house, that she felt quite sure she should not be subjected to the mortification of seeing Honor there. Yet now, just when the pleasure of the day was beginning, that odious old woman — with whom Miss Trent never had had, and never could have, a moment's patience — had been received as an esteemed guest, and had brought Honor. What a day it was ! When Honor described it that night to wondering, envious little Phœbe, the description read like a page from the Ara bian Nights.

" I really cannot tell why it seemed so beautiful, and bright, and pleasant. It was Mr. Keith's doing, I suppose ; for, after all, the lovely rooms, and pictures, and flowers, and silver, and china, and the lots of servants and space, were not the real cause. The laughter and enjoyment were quite real. Everybody did exactly what they liked, and had exactly what they liked; and in the park a band played spendidly all the time. Yes, it was very pleasant, and — I suppose Mr. Keith made it so." Honor was right. The real pleasure of the day was owing far more to the host than to the beauty or the luxury of his house ; yet few of the guests could have defined — any more distinctly than Honor did — how this could be. " Keith," said Sir Philip Somerson, shading his eyes with his hand, as he stood upon the steps before the chief entrance to the Towers, and looked across to a distant wooded spot in the park, " there is a string of people passing — quite a crowd.

What does it mean ?" " They are the mill-hands," said Royden, "going home." " What ! making a thoroughfare of your park?" " Yes ; it saves then quite a mile, and is a pleasant walk." " By Jove, you are a reckless fellow to allow it !" exclaimed the Baronet, though he watched the passing figures with a good deal of interest. " They will take all kinds of liberties presently, and expect you, I should not wonder, to throw the whole park open to them — perhaps you do ?" "Now and then, in summer-time," said Royden, laughing at the abrupt question. " To see their enjoyment of that day is worth something, I cau assure you." " Bad precedent," observed Sir Philip, vexed to find that his words would not sound so sharp as he meant them to do. " I once threw open Somerson Park for an excursion, and the snobs cut off five hundred of my young trees for walking-sticks.

I have kept my grounds to myself since then." "The cases are different, Sir Philip. They were strangers to you, and most probably not the poor." "I suppose you mean to insinuate," laughed the Baronet, "that these poor fellows, with their overworked wives, and children, and sweet hearts, would scorn to take advantage of a patron they were fond of? Wait and see." He strolled away then, with the rest of the company, enjoying a little desultory chat here, and music there ; now a game, at which he would laugh as heartily as a boy, and now a grave discussion on a work of art or scientific specimen. " Mr. Keith," called Lady Somerson, from one of the mullioned windows, " that sandy bay would be a favourite resort of mine, if I lived here." " I fancy not," said Royden, joining her, " for you would soon learn its treachery.

There are times when the tide comes sweeping into that bay with an almost sudden rush. It is two miles in width ; and, unless you can be quite sure of the tide, and have a fleet horse, it is dangerous to venture there. I once rode home that way from the junction, when the train did not come on to Westleigh, but my horse was fresh and the tide on the ebb." " You will surely never do that again, Mr. Keith," put in Mrs. Payte. " Just fancy any one standing at this window, and watching you start to cross those sands. You know that a couple of miles is not accomplished in a breath, however fleet your horse may be ; and a year's agony might be condensed into five minutes, for anyone watching you from here — anyone who cared for you." "There is no fear," said Royden, laughing. "No fear of your riding home along the coast again," smiled Theodora, " or no fear of anyone being frightened to see it ?"

"That's it," laughed Sir Philip. "Keith knows that only a wife would be frightened, so, to save her fear, he will not bring a wife here at all. He says, like Benedick, ' One wo man is fair, yet I am well ; another is wise, yet I am well ; another virtuous, yet I am well ; but, till all graces be in one woman, one wo man shall not come in my grace.' Is not that it, Keith?" "Yes." " But shall you ever find such a one ?" in quired Mrs. Trent, with an effort at motherly interest, and a struggling effort, too, to dis criminate between the jesting and the earnest." " Such a one as whom ?" " I mean — '" began Mrs. Trent, in reply, but then halted. " We all mean," interposed Mrs. Payte, without any hesitation at all, " that we are dying with curiosity to know what sort of a wife you intend to bring to this matchless home."

" ' Rich she shall be,' " quoted Royden, his eyes full of laughter as he looked down into the little lady's eager face ; " what comes next ? Oh, I know — ' wise, or I'll none ; virtuous, fair, mild, noble, of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it please God.' " " She is to be rich to begin with, is she, Mr. Keith?" smiled Theodora, feeling herself, in that respect, at least, the only eligible person present. " Yes, rich first of all. It is a word with a wide meaning, Miss Trent. That gong is sum moning us to tea ; will you come ?" They saw again that he wished to put a stop to the conversation, and so they sauntered on, talking of other things. At the far, dim end of the picture-gallery, Honor stood alone, gazing in rapt admiration on a marble statue of Leda, bending over the water's brink, and looking down with wondering earnestness upon the graceful swan which bore to her the spirit of the monarch of the gods.

A light and faultless figure, with hands clasped and head bent forward, pausing among the flowers on the water's brim, listening, yet starting back a little, hesitating, yet smiling coyly ; pleased almost as if the Olympian deity had wooed her in his own form. Honor stood with her back to the window ; and, through the stained glass above her, fell a richly-tinted light upon the chiselled figure ; so beautiful, she thought, so passing beautiful! But some one, advancing along the carpeted gallery, saw the rich warm light lie on the living figure too, and gave no thought to the beauty of the lifeless one. " Miss Honor, why did yon creep away from us while we stood talking a few minutes ago ?" " I wanted to look once more at that," she said, daintily leading Royden's eyes from her face, where she felt the colour rising, hard as she strove to prevent it.

" And you were weary of our talk," he said, with gentleness ; "it shall never weary you again. Of my own will I would not have mentioned that subject to-day. Since you and I walked into Kinbury together that afternoon, even a thought of marriage has never entered my heart. It never can again. You know the answer to all their jesting ques tions. You know whom I love, and whom alone I could ever ask to be my wife, and live with me in this solitary home. You have told me, Honor, that this longing of mine is never likely to be fulfilled, and, knowing this, you understand what a lonely life mine will be. Is it not so ?" Oh, why had he come to her ? Why had he come just then, when her thoughts were full of him, as they used to be before Theodora repeated those words of his ? Why had he spoken of this again — here, in his own home, where, with all his power, he was so gentle and so kind ?

Why, above all, would her heart beat even now at the slightest tone of his voice ? Slowly and emphatically did Honor insist on repeating to herself his speech to Theodora, but even then the old spirit of anger was scarcely invoked with strength enough for armour. "Where is everybody gone?" she asked, looking down the long gallery with apparent VOL. II. C unconcern, as she moved away from before the statue. " Honor, I will never speak to you of this after to-night. Only let me ask you the ques tion once more, now in all earnestness. If you think you might care for me at some future time, tell me to wait, and I will ask you again. Seven years' waiting would be nothing to me, if, at the end of the seven years, you could lay your hand in mine, and say you loved me then aud would be my wife. Waiting !

How could I think waiting hard," said Royden, drawing his hand wearily across his brow, " when, if you say ' No ' to me to-night, all the years I have to live will be but waiting years ?" " She does very well for an hour's amusement, but no man could bestow on her a strong affection." The unforgotten words started out clearly and distinctly before Honor's mental eyes. He to speak so of her, and then to mock her with this question ! "I wonder where Mrs. Payte can be," she said, with the greatest nonchalance. " Don't let us talk on this subject any more, please, Mr. Keith. Where are we going now ? " " Downstairs, where they are having tea — if you like." "Yes; I like anywhere where other people are. I'm tired of being alone." " And with me." Honor's heart beat with a strange, sudden pain ; born of the consciousness that all real weariness would lie on the paths he did not tread with her.

But it was better so ; besides, it was too late now ; and he had said those ter rible things of her to Theodora. Despite these thoughts — perhaps, indeed, owing to these thoughts — Honor was one of the merriest of Mr. Keith's guests during that sociable and luxurious tea ; and Theodora's eye brows were so constantly raised in supercilious astonishment that Mrs. Payte whispered to Honor a serious doubt as to whether they could ever again assume their original position. " She has a hundred extra airs and graces on to-night. She would have no objection to reign as mistress in such a place as this, Honor ; but I hope he will not choose her. Come, are you ready ? We have stayed late enough." C2 " I am ready — quite ready," the girl said, almost eagerly. "I have enjoyed this day very much," observed the old lady while she put on her bonnet, and Honor stood waiting for her in the warm and beautiful chamber.

" Mr. Keith has made it very pleasant, but then of course any wealthy man could. I] argent fait tout." " Hardly," said Honor, staunchly enough now. " Everyone could not have done it, even with the argent." " Don't argue, child. I'm generalising. 11 y a fagots et fagots. I know that : but I'm accustomed to say what I mean. Even if Captain Trent had been our wealthy host to-day, wouldn't he have made us all happy ?" Honor laughed merrily. "At any rate he would not have made us unhappy," she said, her thoughts flying from him, to the one who had the greater power. " No ; and I can tell you he chooses a good safe part. It's far easier not to act at all, than to act well ; and he's pretty safe. Now come down." The maid-servant, who had lingered at the door when Mrs. Payte declined her services, led them downstairs again to the great hall, and then disappeared.

One moment afterwards Honor missed her handkerchief; and, turning unobserved, she ran lightly up the stairs again. She could easily, she fancied, find her way to the room she had just quitted ; but, when she reached the gallery from which the chamber door opened, she paused, forgetting whether the maid had led them towards the right or left. " I think I remember," she said to herself, presently, and hurried noiselessly to the right. " Certainly this was the outer door." It was a red cloth door, and moved on a noiseless spring. Stepping through, Honor found herself in a small ante-room, and, opposite her, another door stood open. For a few breathless seconds Honor stood rooted to the spot, gazing fixedly through this door into the room beyond; an elegantly and luxuriously furnished room, with books and music and ornaments in profusion, with soft beautiful work scattered about, and flowers in a perfect wealth of loveliness.

But Honor's eyes dwelt only upon a figure which stood within her sight upon the hearth, dressed in girlish white. A lady, young and very pale aud fragile-looking, but with the light of some happy, tender thought upon her face. " It is — her home," felt Honor, gliding from the room with her hands locked in an agony of which she was just then unconscious ; " and she is thinking of — him. What a long, loving, happy thought it — was !" Swiftly and lightly retracing her steps, Honor saw her handkerchief at last, and stooped to pick it up. Then she joined Mrs. Payte once more, and no one guessed what pain lay at the girl's heart. " Good-bye," said Royden, as he stood at the carriage door in the gathering darkness. " Good-bye," she said, with one long glance into his face, reading it with piteous earnestness, there in the fading light, and finding no shade of sin or shame upon it.

" Good-bye." " Well, I must say," observed Mrs. Payte, breaking in upon Honor's silence as they drove to the station, " I expected the old aunt, or great-aunt, or grandmother, or whatever she may be, would have shown herself to-day, to do the honours to lady-guests. She can surely have no reason for keeping herself hidden, like that wife of Mr. Rochester in Charlotte Bronte's novel. What made you start, child ?" " It is cold," said Honor, drawing her shawl about her, and shrinking a little in her corner of the carriage. " Humph, you're not generally a cold subject," retorted the old lady, brusquely. But she said nothing more till they were in the railway carriage, when she promptly and kindly fell asleep.

Chapter II

Ha ! ha ! It will speed, it will speed, it will speed ; Resistance is vain — we are sure to succeed. Carillon National of the French Revolution. TTONOR found her guardian waiting for her at ■*-*■ the Kinbury Station, although Mrs. Payte had left word that they would drive home from there, as the train did not stop at Statton. At East Cottage, Honor waited to hear tidings of Mrs. Disbrowe. Then she walked on with Law rence in the quiet moonlight, her heart still so heavy that she could scarcely follow his words. But when she was again with Jane and Phœbe in the commonplace rooms atTheLarches, these sad and dreamy thoughts were necessarily dispelled, and then she longed to put away, with them, all mention of Royden's name. But this she found impossible. Phœbe asked a hundred questions about him and his home; Lawrence brought the subject forward again and again, contemptuously, and yet as if with some purpose ; while Jane spoke of him with surly inuen does, hardest of all to bear.

At last Honor, having kept silence as long as she could, turned defiantly upon them. " You don't any of you know him better than I do, if so well. Then how dare you speak of him so ?" Jane fixed her eyes upon the girl, in stolid astonishment ; but Lawrence rose, and paced the room in wrath. " Your ideas are utterly childish, Honor," he said, trying in vain to suppress the anger of his tones. " He has deceived you just as he has deceived every one else." " That is a falsehood, Lawrence," she affirmed quietly. " It is not a falsehood," he returned, losing all control over himself. " He is here under false pretences. You are credulous, and fancy him the honourable man he would appear to be. I know him to be the very reverse." " I know him as an honourable man," the girl said, steadily ; but she knew full well in what a different tone she would have asserted this before that night.

" You will see," muttered Lawrence, savagely. " I shall have evidence to prove it soon, and I can assert it anywhere." "You ought not to have asserted it even here, to us, unless you had evidence to prove it," she remarked ; but the unconcern now was an effort to her. " I will have my proof before I tell every thing, even to you," said Mr. Haughton, pausing before her. " My news will stagger you, I dare say, but you will know then, as I do, that he is not an honourable man." " I hope," observed Honor, smiling coldly, " that in this search for proof of a man's dis honour you have the inestimable advantage of Mr. Slimp's assistance." " By Heaven " " Hush, Lawrence !" pleaded the girl, grave and gentle again. " When you utter that word so heedlessly, I am afraid to think how heed less your thought of it must be."

" What do you think, Honor," put in Phœbe, hastening to drown this speech, lest it should offend her guardian. " Mr. Stafford brought us definite news to-day ; we are to meet Lady Lawrence in her London house on the first of December. Don't you feel excited, Honor?" " This fuss will hinder me in collecting my proofs," observed Mr. Haughton, " but the short delay will not signify." " Did you walk over and see Mrs. Disbrowe this afternoon, Phœbe ?" "No." " Oh I — and you promised me ! She has been alone almost all day." "And if she has," remarked Jane, "it does not oblige you both to become her slaves. Phœbe is idle enough, Honor, without your teaching her to be more so. How is that? You have two handkerchiefs in your hand. What silly extravagance to carry two at a time !" "I did not know I had two," said Honor, good-humouredly.

" Have I taken up one of yours since I came in?" " Mrs. Payte gave you one when we stopped at the cottage," remarked Lawrence. " She said she found it at Westleigh Towers, and it had your name upon it ; don't you recollect her saying so ?" " Then the other, I suppose " began Honor. But then she stopped suddenly, with a burning colour in her cheeks. The handkerchief she held was the one she had picked up in the gallery at Westleigh, just after leaving that room where she had seen a lady standing alone beside the fire ; and now her eyes had fallen upon a name embroidered daintily across one corner — " Alice." " I have brought this one by mistake," she said, putting it back into her pocket ; while the colour faded from her cheeks, and left her face, for one moment, white even to the lips. " I was very careless."