The M. F. H.'s Daughter

Front matter

THE M. F. H.'S DAUGHTER VOL. I a THE M.F.H.'S DAUGHTER BY MRS ROBERT JOCELYN, AUTHOR OF '^"100,000 VERSUS GHOSTS,' 'A DISTRACTING GUEST.' * Unmeddled joys here to no man befall, Who least hath some who most hath never all.' Southwell. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: F. V. WHITE & CO., 31 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C. 1890. [All Rights reserved^ EDINBURGH COLSTON AND COMPANY PRINTERS CONTENTS. CHAP. PACE I. Cousin George, i II. Squire Vernon, 24 III. 'Have you forgotten?' ... 43 IV. A Bad Beginning, 60 V. Lady Francis is Suspicious, . . 76 VI. 'I think you like Him, Fanny!' . 88 VII. What does it mean? .... 105 VIII. 'I would not interfere, if I were You,' 117 IX. Lady Francis's Warning, . .128 X. The First Leaf turned, 140 XL 'Never again,' 150 XII. 'I am no fit Guardian for My Little Girl,' 160 XIII.

Vera's Verdict, 166 XIV. Not an Angel, 179 XV. Mrs Graham, 189 XVI. 'I thought it was My Father,'. . 207 XVII. 'Away to the Winds our Cares we throw,' POPULAR NEW NOYELS. Now ready, in One Vol., the Seventh Edition of ARMY SOCIETY; or. Life in a Garrison Town. By John Strange Winter. Author of ' Booties' Baby.' Cloth gilt, 6s. ; also, picture boards, 2s. Also now ready, in cloth gilt, zs. 6d. each. GARRISON GOSSIP, Gathered in Blankhampton. By John Strange Winter. Also, picture boards, 2S. A SIEGE BABY. By the same Author. Also, picture boards, as. BEAUTIFUL JIM. By the same Author. BY WOMAN'S WIT. By Mrs Alexander. Author of 'The Wooing Ot.' Also, picture boards, 2S. MONA'S CHOICE. By the same Author. Also, picture boards, 2S. A LIFE INTEREST. By the same Author. KILLED IN THE OPEN. By Mrs Edward Kennard.

Also, picture boards, 2S. THE GIRL IN THE BROWN HABIT. A Sporting Novel. By the same Author. Also, picture boards, 2S. A REAL GOOD THING. By the same Author. A CRACK COUNTY. By the same Author. STRAIGHT AS A DIE. By the same Author. Also, picture boards. 2S. TWILIGHT TALES. By the same Author. Illustrated. IN A GRASS COUNTRY. By Mrs H. Lovett-Cameron. Also, picture boards, 2s. A DEVOUT LOVER. By the same Author. Also, picture boards, 2: THE COST OF A LIE. By the same Author. THIS WICKED WORLD. By the same Author. A LOST WIFE. By the same Author. THE OUTSIDER. By Hawley Smart. THE MASTER OF RATHKELLY. By the same Author. LONG ODDS. By the same Author. SHE CAME BETWEEN. By Mrs Alexander Fraser. DAUGHTERS OF BELGRAVIA. By the same Author. THE CRUSADE OF 'THE EXCELSIOR.' By Bret Harte. Also, picture boards, 2s. CURB AND SNAFFLE.

Chapter I. Cousin George

' All regt an stregt i' mak and shap, A mould for t' race o' men, A dahuregh, upregt, beng-up chap, Nut mitch unlike mesen.' Natterin Nan. ' Can you tell me the way to Westby ? ' ' Noa.' ' Thank you,' said Miss Vernon, and then rode slowly on. She had not gone many paces, however, before she stopped, and, turning round again, raised her voice and shouted over the hedge top, — ' Can you tell me where this road leads to ? ' VOL. I. A ' Ay ! Mister Scoatt's farm.' ' You mean to say that this is a private road ? ' ' Ay,' agreed the yokel, after a pause, during which he gazed perplexedly in her direction as if not fully understanding her question. ' Then if I go straight on past the farm, shall I get into the Westby high road ? ' ' Noa.' After again thanking the ploughboy for his valuable information, Miss Vernon turned her horse's head and set off at a trot to retrace her steps.

She had already ridden several miles out of her way, and she felt sure it would be some little time before she found herself in a country that she knew again. She was completely out of her beat, and nearly twenty miles from home. Those twenty miles had to be ridden in the face of a drizzling rain on a horse who, at his best, was a very indifferent hack, and it may therefore seem that this is an unpropitious moment in which to introduce Dolly Vernon to you. And yet the one thing which could not have failed to have struck you was the childishly - happy, well-contented expres sion upon that fresh young face of hers, as she jogged slowly homewards in the face of that drizzling rain. You could see it on her lips, in her eyes, in every movement as she rode along. She seemed utterly indifferent to east wind, drizzling rain, and the fact that Topper could hardly be coaxed out of a jog, tripped unpleasantly every few hundred yards, and obligingly rested the whole weight of his head on her hands.

It is said that one great trouble swal lows up all lesser ones ; and so it is with happiness. One great cause of joy ab sorbs all other feelings, and makes the sun shine through every adverse cloud which comes across it. Vera— or, more familiarly, Dolly — Vernon was so very happy just then that she forgot to feel either lonely, lost, or cold. The long ride home was nothing to her, and she would not have changed places with any one in the whole wide world. Every gust of wind that met her, every drop of rain, were but accompaniments to her own happy thoughts ; and as to Topper's blunders, why, they but woke her from a dream of bliss to know that it was not a dream. This girl, who, in spite of adverse circumstances, was so extremely well con tented with her lot, was Squire Vernon's second daughter.

She had one sister, several years her senior, and no brothers. The sister had married about five years before this story commences. She had been a very beautiful young lady ; and very charming when well pleased ; but unfor tunately life at Wyndeane, in the very heart of the hunting country in Mudshire, had never pleased Miss Vernon, and she had pined and drooped and lamented her fate there until she had nearly worried the Squire to distraction ; and so he had not very deeply lamented the day she married young Frederick Areley, a man of good family, the owner of a fine property in the south of England, and an income of over forty thousand a year. That marriage had not turned out quite as well as it might have done. Mr Frederick Areley was not a very satis factory husband, and perhaps he had not a wholly satisfactory wife.

But if at Areley Court there was some times war, at Wyndeane there reigned a a perfect state of peace. No two people ever more thoroughly understood each other than the Squire and his second daughter. Dolly, with her sunny face and winning ways had wormed her way into the very warmest place in her father's heart, and to say that he worshipped the very ground she trod upon, is by no means going too far. At seventeen Dolly Vernon had suc ceeded in worming her way into the hearts of most of the Muddletonites. There was not a man who hunted with the Muddle ton who was not pleased to see her out with them ; and as to women, they adored her ; which, considering her pretty face, may be said to guarantee that Miss Dolly Vernon was a really nice, lovable girl, and that she had a disposition and manner little short of being angelic.

We must now follow her on her home ward ride. After she had ridden a mile or two, a voice in the distance woke her from her dreams more effectually than any of ' Topper's ' numerous trips had previously succeeded in doing. ' Why, Dolly, where are you going to ? ' it said, in a tone of great surprise and still greater satisfaction. ' I am by no means sure ! ' was the laughingly-given reply. ' One thing is certain though, I have very recently been going in the wrong direction.' She turned her horse into the high road as she spoke, and in so doing came face to face with her cousin. ' Lost, Dolly ? Why, I thought you knew every yard of our county, and could have found your way about it blindfold ! ' ' To tell you the truth,' she replied naively, ' I had that same opinion until an hour ago. Where are we ? ' ' About eighteen miles from home,' he replied. ' And a wretched afternoon it is too!' 'Well, never mind the weather,' she returned lightly. ' We English people ougsht to be indifferent to it if we wish to live fairly happy lives.

There is one comfort, we have met each other ; let us be thankful for it.' ' I am extremely thankful for it, I assure you,' was the quiet answer. ' Far more so than you can possibly be.' 'Impossible, my dear boy!' was the decided reply. ' I really was never half so pleased to see you before ! I was lost ; quite lost ! ' ' And I was in the very lowest of spirits over the prospect of my long solitary ride.' ' Oh, I should not have minded the ride,' she replied rather absently. ' My spirits were not suffering ; only you see I did not know my way.' ' But still it will be cheerier if we ride to gether ; wont it, Dolly ? ' he asked wistfully. His question seemed to rouse her out of a reverie. With a sudden smile she turned her grey eyes towards him, and glanced up into his face from under her long, dark, curling lashes. ' Much cheerier, of course, George ! ' she replied warmly. ' I am very glad indeed that we came across each other in such a lucky manner.' George simply coloured with pleasure ; it never even crossed his mind, that had she loved him ever so little even, such a frank avowal as this would never have passed her lips.

In his happiness he felt just a little awkward. ' Are you any the worse for your fall ? ' he inquired, by way of changing the subject. ' Not a bit,' she replied laughingly; ' but do look at my habit ! ' ' Never mind the habit,' returned her cousin stolidly. ' It is a mercy you are all right.' ' That is all very well, my dear boy,' she replied rather brusquely, ' but one is obliged to think of one's habit now-a-days, I can assure you. You can have no idea how often one has to go to Busvine or Holne before one can get a tidy new one.' ' I wish you would think of that fact, Dolly, before trying to do impossible things. If you would, I, for one, should owe a deep debt of gratitude to Messrs Busvine & Co.,' returned George quietly. ' Any outsider, listening to your conver sation, would certainly glean from it that I was one of those reckless young women who, blessed with more pluck than discre tion, are such a decided nuisance in the hunting field,' was the dry reply. ' My dear Dolly, you must excuse my saying that you are talking nonsense.

You do not want me to tell you you can ride, or to flatter you by saying that any outsider, unless he was a very ignorant outsider in deed, would have known that fact long before he had had the pleasure of seeing you ; but all that is apart from the question.' ' The question of my trying to do im possible things ?' inquired Dolly, laughing as she spoke. ' Yes,' was the seriously-given reply. You knew old Topper could not jump that Picley drain ; no horse could jump it from the Granton side at the part where the hounds crossed it to-day. You knew that as well as anyone, Dolly. Why did you try to do it ? ' Again Dolly laughed. ' Do you suppose I did it because I love to be immersed nearly up to the neck in muddy water ? ' she inquired jestingly. ' If you do, you are wrong. I managed it very badly, I grant ; but then I did get Topper out fairly cleverly, did I not ? and I believe I gave him the satisfaction of knowing that only one other horse except himself was in the run at all after that.' ' You extricated yourself out of a difficult position admirably, as usual, Dolly,' returned George. ' Only, why did you place yourself in it knowing you must have a fall ? ' ' Ask Captain Dasher why he did so, George.

His answer will do for us both.' 'Oh, Dasher!' exclaimed George, rather impatiently. ' Your dearest friend,' put in Dolly, with a smile. ' Dasher is a man.' 'Is he?' laughed Dolly. 'My dear George, you surprise me. I really had no idea of it ! ' George, evidently against his will, gave a half-amused laugh. He was very much in earnest, but the expression upon Dolly's face was too much for him. ' And a lady ought not to ride for a fall,' he protested. ' And yet I have ridden for several falls in my time, George, and have not broken any bones yet ; whereas Captain Dasher smashes about two a season.' ' You never think what it would be to the Squire and me if you ever have a really nasty accident, Dolly ; do you ? ' Dolly shook her head. ' No, I do not,' she replied decisively. ' I never think of unpleasant things unless I am obliged to do so.

You are certainly in a most cheer ful humour to-day. I congratulate you upon it ; but if it continues much longer I shall wish we had never met. Pray do not fuss about me any more. Nought never comes to any harm, they say ; and that is a most consoling thought for you.' ' Nought ? ' repeated young Lord Vent nor, turning his blue eyes wistfully upon her. ' Nought, Dolly ? ' ' Yes, nought ; less than nought,' she replied lightly. ' And now, like a sensible boy, do try and put aside this dreary humour. The state of the weather is quite bad enough without your trying to make matters worse than they already are. Do you want to make me regret that I met you.' George certainly did not wish to do that, and so, like a wise young man, he turned the subject when next he spoke. Dolly and he had been dearest friends since childhood.

She had never felt the absence of a brother, because she had ever had one in him ; and, as to him, from the day he first went over to Wyndeane to be introduced to the ' new cousin ' there, and that same new cousin had clutched his dark hair in her chubby little hand and pulled it ruthlessly, he had been little better than her slave. He had been a schoolboy in those days, and she a baby. Now he was a man, and she was no longer a child ; and all the difference the intervening years had brought was this, — he was still in her eyes a brother, but in his she was a saint, an angel, what you will, so long as it is not a sister. Only Dolly had no suspicion of this ; none at all. That was a cause of much thankfulness on his part. That she would perhaps marry him some day in a far-off future was the ideal dream of his life ; but his great love for her, and his natural humility made this but a shadowy dream, altogether too good to be probable ; almost too good to be even within the limits of possibility.

He could see nothing in himself to merit so much happiness. He was a really good hearted young fellow ; he had no touch of self-conceit in his composition ; and he knew quite well that the fact that he was a rich man, and the sixteenth Earl of Ventnor, would not weigh an ounce in the balance of the fors and againsts of his chance with his cousin Dolly Vernon. But what he did not suspect, was the possibility that there might be some other man in the question. He was a very per fect young man, as young men go, but had such a horrible possibility as this presented itself to him, it would certainly have been as wholly distasteful to him as it would have been to any other less per fect man. George, sixteenth Earl of Ventnor, was as honest and as straightforward a young fellow as he well could be.

He was not handsome — far from it ; but there was something so pleasant about his face, and such a kind-hearted, genial, frank expres sion in his eyes, that one never noticed that the owner of them was undeniably plain. His mouth, which was his best feature, told of a strong, firm character under its dark moustache, and when he smiled, he displayed a set of perfect white teeth, which would have caused many a beauty to break the tenth command ment. For a young man he had a really won derfully courteous and polished manner ; without having the slightest touch of prigishness about him, he always seemed to have the power to say the right thing just at the right moment Added to this, he had the happy knack of never for getting either the face or name of any fellow-creature he had ever seen before, and whether it had been the day before yesterday or the year before last since he had previously met that person, he was certain to remember all his pet hobbies and to be delighted to see him again.

That, under all these circumstances, he was a very popular young man goes with out saying ; friends, tenants, servants, they all were enthusiastic in his praise ; and as to Squire Vernon, he was the most enthusiastic of them all — he looked upon him already in the light of a son, and the dearest wish of his life was that he might some day be his son-in-law. Not that the Squire would have said one word upon the subject to Dolly — she must choose her future husband of her own free will, and no word of his should ever influence her either one way or the other ; only, seeing George's devotion, the Squire vol. 1. B saw no possible reason why it should not be returned. She liked him so sincerely ; and were there so very many steps between sincere liking and sincere love ? So many that Dolly, having sincerely liked her cousin since her babyhood, looked upon him no more in the light of being a lover than if he had in truth been her brother ; and quite unaware of the tumult which was raginoin his honest breast she rode along beside him, chatter ing gaily as she went along.

By-and-by her flow of chatter ceased, and she lapsed into a long silence — a silence which at last her cousin broke. ' A penny for your thoughts, Dolly ! ' he remarked quietly, after having watched the smile which those same thoughts had O brought upon her lips, for a long time surreptitiously in silence. A soft blush sprang up into her cheeks. ' They would not interest you, Georo-e,' she replied quietly. For several seconds George studied her face in silence. Why had she blushed like that ? Never in his life had he seen her blush before, and he knew full well that that blush in no way belonged to him. ' I want you to come and dine with us to-night, George,' said Dolly, presently. ' We heard yesterday from Jack Denham, and he is coming to us to-day.' ' I shall be delighted,' returned George. ' To tell you the truth, I was hoping you would take pity upon me this evening.

The little mother is away, and, as you know, I have no liking for my own company. So Jack Denham is coming to Wyndeane to-day, is he ! I am glad of that. I like Jack Denham very much ; don't you, Dolly ? ' ' Yes,' was the very quiet reply. ' I like him very much.' ' You do ? ' persisted George questioningly, as if he half doubted her words. The Al. F. His Daughter. 20 'Certainly I do ! Why do you ask ? ' was the reply, given more quietly than ever. ' I wondered whether you did like him or not, Dolly,' said George, thoughtfully. ' I should hardly have thought you would have liked him much.' ' And why, pray ? ' she inquired rather curtly. 'Oh,' I can hardly say,' murmured George, half apologetically. ' Of course he is a very good fellow in some ways, and extremely amusing, and all that, but there is something I cannot quite understand — ' ' And, of course, if you cannot under stand it, it must be bad indeed,' put in Miss Vernon, drily. ' Are you not being a little hard upon me, Dolly ? ' was the quiet reply. 'Why should you abuse Jack Denham, then, George ?' she asked petulantly, ' I am not abusing him.

I have no wish to do so, for personally I like him very much.' ' But does he not appear to you to be rather exceptionally nice ? ' suggested Dolly, quickly. ' Yes, he does, and so he is.' George glanced at her in a surprised, troubled manner. In some ways he was a rather dense young man, but it struck him that Dolly was considerably out of temper ; more so than such a trivial matter seemed in any way to necessitate. ' What is the matter, Dolly ? ' he asked uneasily. ' I dislike hearing you say unkind things of people behind their backs ; you ought to have known I should dislike it,' she replied in a rather cold tone of voice. ' But my dear girl, I really said no thing — ' ' That is the worst of it ! You really had absolutely nothing to say against him.' ' Well, Dolly, if it comes to that, I cannot say I think he behaved very well to Miss Erstone.' The M. F. His Daughter. 22 Dolly laughed.

It was not a very happy laugh ; but it was full of satire. ' Well, do not be so angry with me about it,' he pleaded gently. ' Horrid girl !' ' But she was very much in earnest, and Jack Denham knew it,' put in George, firmly. ' You really could hardly expect him to ■ — marry Miss Erstone, could you ? ' was the cutting rejoinder. ' Even if he did happen to know that the young lady would not object to such an arrangement ? ' ' I think he flirted abominably with her,' was the quiet answer. ' You are such a boy, George ! ' returned Miss Vernon, witheringly. ' He only acted as nine men out of ten would have done,' ' Then boy or not, I flatter myself I am the tenth,' said George, with great composure. For a few seconds Dolly said nothing. Her face had become very grave, and her manner thoughtful. ' Yes, George,' she agreed at last.

I grant that.' ' You are the tenth. ' Thank you for turned softly ; and be looking his way something strange his eyes. that, Dolly ! ' he re had she chanced to she might have read in the expression of But she did not look his way ; her large eyes were fixed straight ahead of her over Topper's ears, and her thoughts had wandered back into dreamland.

Chapter II. Squire Vernon

' We have scores of good fellows hang out in the shire, But the best of them all is the galloping squire.' Whyte Melville. A brightly-blazing fire lit up the old hall at Wyndeane. The rain battered against the stained glass windows at every gust of wind, but that was the only sign by which the man who sat in a large easy-chair, with his feet upon the fender, could tell that it was a bleak, cheerless day in Novem ber. Inside that quaint old hall everything was warm and bright, — the light of that huge log fire ; the crimson velvet cushions, which made those dark oak chairs look so inviting ; the hot-house flowers, so taste fully and profusely arranged in every available corner ; the sleepy collie on the hearth ; the favourite greyhound curled up in one of the most comfortable arm chairs, — they all seemed to set at com plete defiance the damp chilly atmosphere without.

The walls were ornamented with hunting trophies of every description. Over the mantelshelf hung a large picture sur rounded by foxes' heads and brushes. The picture was a portrait of Vera's mother, and the remembrances of the hunting-field which surrounded it bore little plates tell ing of some famous Mudshire runs ; runs in which the owner of Wyndeane had shown himself well to the front, in that quiet masterly way which Bob Vernon always displayed when the fences were biggest, and the hounds running straight. Dolly not only adored her father, she was very proud of him as well ; and these, as well as all his other sporting trophies, were amongst her dearest treasures. It was Dolly who arranged them round her mother's picture, explaining as she did so, that she ' would like to have them there.' Why did I call the middle-aged grey headed man, whose face was lined by a life that had battled with all weathers, all climates, and many troubles, for the last five-and-fifty years, ' Bob ' Vernon ?

The people within twenty miles of Wyndeane called him The Squire : Society knew him as Colonel Vernon ; and Dolly always spoke of him as Dads. It was eighteen years since he was handsome, penniless Bob Vernon in the Border Guards ; eighteen years since he began to lose the nickname of ' Pretty Bob ' — a nickname which he assuredly had never merited ; although he had been handsome, as many penniless young Guardsmen are wont to be, and he still was handsome as he sat in his pink coat by his comfortable fire, no longer penniless and no longer young. There had never been any sign of prettiness or dandyism about the Squire, and perhaps that was why his brother officers had nick named him Pretty Bob. He had been extremely popular in his regiment, and a universal favourite, al though he had been penniless beyond the pennilessness of most young Guards men.

His father had put him into a crack regiment and had then died, leaving him very little, except his blessing. He had had a hard struggle with poverty and against debt, but he had kept out of the latter, and in spite of the former, his laugh had ever been the heartiest, as well as his face the handsomest, of any round the mess table of the Border Guards. Robert Vernon in those days could only with difficulty muster three hunters of his own, but luckily for him, in spite of this, he had never known what it was to miss a day's hunting for lack of a horse to ride ; partly, it is true, because he improved young horses, did not mind what sort of animal he rode, and let it be the biggest brute that ever was shod, it was certain to be ' somewhere handy ' if Bob Vernon was on its back. And in this way he had succeeded in defying circumstances, and in living a very fairly pleasant life during his early years in Her Majesty's service.

He had been devoted to his profession and to his regi ment, and so things had gone on, happily enough, until young Jack Coningham joined the Border Guards ; from that day the whole course of Robert Vernon's life underwent a change. He took a strong liking to the young man the first day they met, and very soon these two became fast friends. Then it so happened that Bob Vernon found himself in a position which enabled him to save young Lord Coninor ham's life — not, however, without consider ably endangering his own. Naturally after this, when he went to stay at Coningham Park, he was made a hero of there ; and although he had innate within him an Englishman's strong dislike to hearing his good deeds mentioned, still he could not wholly object to the manner in which young Jack Coningham's mother and sisters showed their gratitude.

To a man who had had many acquaint ances, but few real friends, and fewer relations, — a man who had lived a some what rough-and-ready kind of life, and who had not known what the words ' Home ' and 'Sympathy' meant, — Jack Coningham's home, and the women who inhabited it, were alike novel and charming experiences. Lady Ventnor loved her son, as a mother and a mother only can love a favourite child ; and her gratitude towards the man who had saved her darling's life knew no bounds. Nor was the old Earl behindhand in his gratitude ; although he said less about it than his women folk. The AL F. His Daughter. 30 Not only was Lord Ventnor very deeply indebted to Bob Vernon, but he very soon began to like him ex tremely as a man ; and he urged and persuaded him to come to Coningham Park whenever it was in his power to do so.