Mary Bittleston

Front matter

BY WM. JONES JOHN HEYWOOD, Deaksgate and Ridgefield, Manchester. 2, AMEN CORNER, LONDON, E.C. CONTENTS. CHAPTEB. PA0E. I. MAPLE DENHAM ... ... ... ... 1 II. A CONFIDENTIAL SERVANT 22 III. DIFFIDENCE ... ... ... ... ... 30 IV. THE SMITHS ... ... 40 V. JOINERY ... ... ... ... ... 50 VI. WORKING PEOPLE ... ... ... ... 62 VII. A VISION OF ARCADY 73 VIII. TRUST ... 89 IX. A MEMORABLE MORNING 108 X. A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT ... ... ... 113 XI. AN INVITATION 124 XII. A DAY DREAM ENDED . . ... ... ... 134 XIII. HOME ... ... 140 XIV. SEVERING OLD TIES ... ... ... ... 157 XV. DRIFTING ... ... 174 XVI. PECULIAR NOTIONS ... ... ... ... 182 XVII. THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE ... ... ... 208 XVIII. WORSE LUCK STILL ... ... ... ... 224 XIX. A CALL OF DUTY 238 XX. A REVELATION ... ... ... ... ... 246 XXI. KINDNESS ... ... ..- 271 XXII. FRIENDS OLD AND NEW ... 279 XXIII. AN IMPORTANT VISITOR

Chapter I. Maple Denham

If any reader happens to find his way to Bednal, he can be gratified with one of the most charming walks in the whole of Oxfordshire. Leaving the little town by the East Herland road we soon come to a church on the left, and entering the churchyard by a wicket gate, we pass between the gravestones of the country people who lie there, and presently come out upon a carriage drive. This fine road is nearly four miles long, and although private, is freely used by the surrounding tenantry and those having business with them, while all pedestrians are quite unrestricted. It thus serves to a great extent the purpose of a highway in bearing the principal traffic of the district. Following this road, the way for the first two miles lies between closely wooded slopes on the one side, and steep banks running down to the edge of a stream on the other ; then it dives into a deep hollow called the Warren, and re-appears among open meadows.

The drive now lies through the park proper, and soon leads to a wide avenue of fine elms. It is the greater part of a mile in length, and at the furthermost end lies the old Hall, appearing long and low in the distance, the white stone dressings of its gables glinting in the bright morning sun. Besides its look of comfort, the house seen from here has an air of dignity, as if the old place knew that it had been armed and held for the King. The road curves sharply at the avenue, and con tinues parallel with it until another sharp curve leads to a lawn of velvet, where the drive widens out under the windows of the house. This is Maple Denham Hall. The village, church, and rectory lie beyond, and are reached by continuing along the side of the house instead of turning in upon the lawn. Sir Henry Bittleston is the present lord of the manor.

About five years ago his wife died, leaving an only child, Mary, then sixteen, and now a young woman of twenty-one. She has not been very long at home ; for after his wife's death Sir Henry decided to have her grow up to womanhood among com panions of her own station rather than let her •character be formed surrounded only by dependents. Perhaps he was right. Certainly, to judge from appearances he cannot have been far wrong. Still, it has had its disadvantages. He has learnt to do without her. A small party of friends is staying with Sir Henry at present, and Mary, who has come down early, is standing at the breakfast-room window, ready to welcome the next to put in an appearance. She has not long to wait ; for a young fellow of her own age enters in a few minutes, carrying in his hand a small bunch of wild flowers, which judging by his boots as well as by the flowers, must have been just fresh from the woods.

He brought the flowers to Miss Bittleston, who accepted them, at first with a look of surprise, followed immediately, however, by a flash of com prehension. " I know why you have been out for these," she said, thanking him. " I remember now talking about them, I am very sorry. You have been to a good deal of trouble." " The trouble was nothing at all, Miss Bittleston," replied the young man : " the only thing was looking rather absurd. I seemed to be prowling about after nothing, you see." She smiled assent. He added, " Latham was up there. I saw him put his gun down and have a good look to make sure it was me. Then he came up and says, ' Hast lost summat, Mester Lebel ? ' I cut him short. He went off in a pet I fancy." " I hope he does not feel hurt," she said. They were here joined by a young girl about seventeen, Katie Winton, the daughter of Mr. and Lady Winton, also staying in the house.

Mary passed over with her flowers to where her father would sit, and placed them fresh and covered with dew beside his plate. George, that was his name, watched this per formance with something like consternation; then broke out, "You don't mean to say you are not going to wear them ? " Mary's eyes opened a little, and looking at him she said frankly, " No, George. I did not want them for myself." " Oh," he said shortly, and walked off" to the window. The silence seemed slightly awkward. It was broken by Mary saying in an apologetic strain, "You would not believe how much my father thinks of wild flowers." " 0, bother the wild flowers, Miss Bittleston," he said, all right again, however. " Let us talk about the breakfast." But he noted that she did not think of giving in to his humour by keeping the flowers herself.

They were soon joined by a younger brother of George's named Frank, and by Mr. and Lady Winton. It was easy to see that the latter was a general favourite. Lady Winton was a good specimen of what culture and experience of life can do for a naturally fine and sympathetic nature. She was without doubt a woman of the world ; but everything about Maple Denham appealed to her tenderest side. She and Lady Bittleston had been rare and constant friends ; Mary had grown up with her own daughter, and sometimes seemed as if she were her own : the house itself was full of associations, both happy and sad, and she knew every corner of it. Sir Henry himself was the last to appear. He was a man about fifty years of age, of middle height, but of heavy, powerful build, with broad shoulders, and a massive head.

There was not much indication upon his face of gentleness : nor did he seem a man easily moved to smiles and laughter. Yet there was nothing petty about him, nothing sour : his face was severe, but serene. His firm set features might mean justice, but scarcely mercy : the dark, kindling eyes, steady and piercing even in repose, would be terrible in anger, and such as no one could calmly face. His hair was still raven black, bearing no trace of time, and as luxuriant as it was in his youth. Those about him were wont to say that after all the years they had known him, they could perceive no change in him: as they expressed it, "he has always looked the same." He was followed into the room by his valet, a tall, dark young man about thirty years of age, called Eichard. He was bringing in letters and papers, some for the people staying in the house but most of them for his master.

The latter had not yet taken his seat, and when the man came to his master's place, he quietly pushed Mary's flowers among the others in the centre of the table, as if to find room for the papers. Mary just caught the action as her flowers were disappearing. Her lips sprang open ; but she did not speak. She looked steadily at the man's impassive face ; then continued her breakfast as before. The conversation of Sir Henry and Mr. Winton gradually drifted towards subjects which had little or no interest for most of those present, until at last they were holding a conversation all to themselves, undisturbed by the clatter and occasional laughter around them. One of the subjects they reached was the position of municipal affairs at the neighbouring town of Bednal, which appeared to interest them very much.

It seemed that the Bednal Town Council had just made application for an extension of the borough boundary; and while Mr. Winton was opposed to this extension, Sir Henry was in favour of it, much to the other's surprise. "You are the last man I should have thought favourable to it," he said. "Your land is much nearer Bednal than mine." " That may be," replied Sir Henry ; " but consider how the requirements of the place have altered in the past twenty-five years. I remember when I rode in as a young man, and could see the whole of the town before I left the carriage road. Bednal was then only a small collection of streets around the old church." Meanwhile, Sir Henry's daughter had gradually detached herself from the light talk around the table, and had given her serious attention to this Bednal topic, uncongenial though it must have been to her.

As her father finished speaking, she spoke. " Even I," she said, " can remember when the Bednal road as far as Friarsgate lay entirely through fields." Both gentlemen turned at this unexpected contri bution. No specific notice, however, was taken of her remark, her father immediately resuming, "All these people coming close together, necessitates expensive provision for their health and safety. But their present boundary prevents them from rating a number of people who ought to assist them." " Still," Mr. Winton said meditatively, " I cannot think that they ought to be able to follow a man with a fresh boundary ; because people must be at liberty to leave the town if they so choose." " Ah, if they leave it altogether, yes. But they cannot leave it altogether; and there's the rub. Their living is in the town.

Therefore, they are reasonably called townspeople, and I think ought to pay town's rates." " You must not forget," said Mr. Winton, " that if a man comes to live out of the town he has to put up with some disadvantages. If he has only a very moderate income, the mere cost of going backwards and forwards will be a consideration: and there must be other drawbacks. Now if a man is willing to put up with these on purpose to live out of the town, I cannot see that he ought to be followed up with a heavier town's rate." "They come out for advantages," returned Sir Henry, "not disadvantages, you can depend upon it; and in practice it amounts to this, they get the benefits of both town and country without paying the penalties of either. My telegrams cost me five shillings each ; coal twenty shillings a ton over my own road ; the gas plant my father put down I don't use, for the nuisance and risk are more than the gas is worth, so we have lamps ; and I've known it take a man four hours to get to Bednal on a good horse after a heavy fall of snow.

Your suburban gentleman knows nothing about that. Our rates might well be low." Mr. Winton only replied to this with a prolonged " H'm." Mary again interposed. " When Maud Parsons — that's a girl in the village — was coming home one Christmas-time, the train was so late that she had to stay in Bednal station all night, and her mother did not know what had become of her till the morning." Mr. Winton did not mean to let Mary go again un noticed, and replied to her at once himself. " A sad state her mother would be in ! " said he. " But, Mary, I understand what it is quite well. On the whole, I fancy I am even worse off at my place than you are here." Sir Henry replied. " You certainly are, for that matter," he said to Mr. Winton ; " but the question of boundary really appears to me a matter superior to one merely of con venience or of rates.

I think the suburban residents of a town ought to be within the borough, and take an interest in it, impracticable for them unless they feel that they are townsmen. A townsman's proper sphere of interest lies among his townsmen. The distinction between classes should not be accentuated in the town by an imaginary line." " Don't you think you are over-estimating the im portance of a mere boundary line ? " said Mr. Winton. " It is really impossible to tell," urged Sir Henry, "what subtle, far-reaching effects this division has got to answer for. I think a town should not be a huge factory and nothing more, as many of them are, which men forsake as soon as they have made their money." " You are undoubtedly quite right there." " Yet men of wealth and leisure are just the very men who ought to stay, most useful and most wanted.

Why should not the boundary of a town be fixed in anticipation, and so enable its authorities to do what they like to improve the district, and induce people of leisure to stay and identify themselves with the place ? " Mr. Winton did not answer. Sir Henry continued, " As it is, they suddenly turn up in the country — literally spring up in a night or two — where they are no use to anybody. They were not brought up like you and me, who were made to feel we had duties in the place. They could not stop a carter to look at his team without betraying their inexperience and risking a repulse. So they stop and speak to nobody ; and know nobody ; and it's just as well they don't. They should stay among the people who work their machines, and carry their merchandise ; as we live among the people who till our land."

Mr. Winton reflected in silence ; and for a while neither spoke. They resumed conversation on kin dred topics ; but Mary ceased to follow it. " I'm glad you're going to give us some share of your notice, Miss Bittleston," George Lebel said to her as she turned towards them. " I never knew before what an interest you took in the county rates." Mary seemed uncomfortable under this sally. " 0, but everyone has a right to choose what sub ject shall interest them most," Lady Winton inter posed. " I should think so indeed," said Mary, recovered, "and besides, it was not about the county rates." " I don't believe you know what it was about," he returned, not desirous, however, to continue this subject. " As you're going to be an engineer, and think your self a man, I should have thought you would take an interest in such things yourself," came from Katie Winton.

" He won't care about the rates, not he," the younger brother chimed out, " so long as they raise the wind enough to pay him with." " Oh, hark, Katie ! they are going to pay him in wind ! " " No," burst forth Frank, " I'm sure I never did say that " " He will never be worth anything else A light peal of laughter followed this broad joke at George's expense. Lady Winton was much amused at Frank's confused figure of speech, and was as near an outbreak of laughter as it was possible for her to be. George said to his brother meekly, " You're a nice fellow with your raising the wind. Don't be so poetical, don't." " Talking of poetry," said Katie, " Edith Lismore writes poetry." She added suddenly, " O, no one has told Mary the news ! " " Good news ? " she asked. " I have heard to-day, Mary," said Lady Winton, " that Edith Lismore and Mr. Salis are engaged to be married on the fifteenth of next month."

" That is good news. You know them, don't you, George ? " " I know Salis very well," he replied ; " but not Miss Lismore. Is she a geologist, and well up in the igneous rocks ? " " Rocks ? No," said Mary. " How should she be?" " You see, dear," Lady Winton explained, " Mr. Salis is a geologist — rather an enthusiastic one, too, I think." " Yes, very," said George. ' ' But I must admit it's the only weakness he has. I remember him telling me one night what an enjoyable day he had had. And where do you think he'd been ? He'd been to the British Museum all day." " I like a man for doing something and having a hobby : don't you, Lady Winton ? " said Mary. " So do I," said George quickly, and with sudden earnestness. " I would not give up my profession, Miss Bittleston — no, not for anything. At the same time, I can't stand fossils."

" I first knew about his geology," George went on, " by his coming to me with a fossil, and asking me what I thought about it. It looked exactly like the outside of an oyster shell : in fact, that's what I took it for." There was a low laugh, and some one said, " I should not tell that to everyone, George, if I were you." " Frank and I went with him one day to find specimens." " You must have been very useful to him ! Two bright assistants surely ! " " It was his own fault. He persuaded us to go ; made us believe it would be excessively interesting." " And you never saw such a place that it was we got to," said Frank. " However, there was nothing for it but to stay ; so we entered properly into the fun of the thing." "Trust you!" said Katie. "But how about the specimens — did you obtain any ?

" " We cracked a lot of rock." " And George broke his hammer." " Yes, I was placed hors de combat trying to break a large piece of rock first time. However, Salis collected some things to bring back ; only Frank happened to overturn the bag, and the pieces went flying all about the slope." " Shame ! " " 0, that was purely accidental though. Salis wasn't there, so we picked the things out again as well as we could; but I must say it seemed to me there were more stones in the bag after the spill than there were before." The girls were anxious to know what Salis had to say about the specimens when he got home; but George said he did not hear anything at all about them, and he assumed therefore that they were satisfactory. He admitted, however, that Salis never asked him or Frank to go with him again.

When breakfast was over, the young men left the room to ride into Bednal. And after a while, the girls also left the house, and went together for a ramble. They followed for a short distance the road that has been described, but instead of continuing in the direction of Bednal, they went to the left towards the village till they reached a rustic staircase mounting a high bank. Ascending, and gaining the path at the top, they began to climb a long, steep slope. And here the sylvan beauties of the spot like nymphs on every side gradually revealed themselves. The girls stood still for a few moments' rest, drinking in the exhilarating nectar of the beautiful spring morning, listening to the sweet tranquillity below, and the exuberant carolling above them. Then with merry incitements to each other they push on towards the extensive wood, only part seen, which crowns the hill.

They go through a gate : and they have reached their goal. They have come to a long, broad walk, broad enough for a carriage and pair, and as level as a plane. It extends along the edge of the wood, with the park like a great wave of emerald lying below. The walk has a moss-bordered carpet of beech nuts and fir cones, which has taken many years to pro duce, and winter after winter has subdued and softened it for dainty feet. This is the Terrace Walk. They gaze down with the satisfaction of climbers upon the way they have come, and look across at the peeping chimneys of the Hall. The road lies with its sinuous length exposed, shining in the sun ; and along it a covered cart slowly comes into view, scarcely appearing to move as seen from this distance. "See, Katie," said Mary, drawing the other's attention to it, " there is Jim the carrier's cart."

"Useful, I suppose," remarked Katie; "but scarcely an elegant turn-out — is it, dear ? " " He starts from Chirgrove at eight o'clock in the morning," continued Mary, " comes through Kelmton and Gorsby Common to Maple Denham, and on to Bednal : then the same way back. He does not get home till nine o'clock at night, and sometimes ten and eleven." " Quite a revolving institution — eh, Mary ? Like the moon," said the other. " Almost as regular. But tell me, Katie, what do you think of his new horse ? " Mary asked. " New horse !" exclaimed Katie, directing her gaze to the distant quadruped. " Well, dear, I should say that at all events he matches the cart." " I hope it will not die soon," said Mary. " I'm sure I also wish it a — what shall I say ? — useful career ? " " The last horse he had died a few weeks ago," said Mary ; " and I lent him a few pounds to help him to buy this one."

Katie wheeled round at this, and gazing intently at her companion, cried, " 0, Mary ! What a remarkable thing." " Yes it is rather remarkable. But if no one had helped him I don't know what he would have done ; for he could not go on without a horse. He could not have earned his living." "Why?" said Katie, looking at the distant cart with greater interest. " I don't know what else he could do now. And horses are expensive. He had not money enough of his own to pay for one." Katie looked after the retreating cart with interest ; then said seriously, "Could I lend him some, Mary ?" " No, dear : he does not want any now." Mary's eyes had left the carrier's cart; and she was looking over the well-known country before her. " I can tell you," she said, " something about every chimney we can see : I know them all.

Perhaps you heard George mention Latham this morning ? I can show you where he lives. Over that great lime-tree yonder, you see a chimney peeping o ut ? That's his house." " Before you came," continued Mary, " his son enlisted. I watched them from the window starting to walk to Bednal, the young fellow and his father side by side. Poor old Latham, he would insist on carrying his son's bag. I felt very sorry for them both." " Did you know him very well, Mary ? " " Oh, no ; but it was very sad : they may never see each other again. His mother is fretting after him." " I don't suppose he is fretting much," said Katie. " I hope not, poor fellow," replied the other. " But, Mary," said Katie, " he must have gone away because he liked it best." " You see, dear," she replied, " when the boys grow up they want to be something better than plough men ; and then they leave.

And the girls have to leave too. I can show you from here a house a girl has lately gone from. Can you see that end of a house to the right of Latham's chimney ? I procured her the situation, and she has written to me and says she is comfortable there. But it is very sad : I do not like their leaving so." Katie's eyes also were wandering over the landscape. " The old church tower stands quite still among the moving foliage," she said ; " and you do have a wedding there sometimes, Mary, if they are all leaving the village." " Very few," replied Mary ; " but we cannot expect many, can we ? We had one not long ago. The bells rang very nice ; and I shook hands with the bride and bridegroom." c " And who were they ? " " Only a couple out of the village : you would not know them. I can show you her father's cottage, right over yonder; but you cannot see from here where the young couple have gone to."

" I wonder when the next wedding will be," said Katie. " Perhaps it will be yours." " Oh," said Mary, breaking into a laugh, " I do hope we shall have another before then." " Still,'' resumed Katie, " yours will come some day ; and it cannot be long ? " "It may come, perhaps, sometime," said Mary, meditatively. "Ah, my Mary," said the younger girl, "you will be a great and beautiful lady." Mary laughed, not displeased. "The first's improbable, Katie," she said; "but I'm afraid the second's impossible." " No, Mary," Katie went on, twining her arm round Mary's shoulders, and looking intently into her face. " You are so graceful, yet not too tall ; and although you write to nursery-maids, cry for soldiers, and lend to carriers, you're just what a duchess ought to be." "Katie, what possesses you to talk like this?" returned the other, now puzzled rather than pleased.

" And you are an heiress too ? " said Katie. "And so are you." "Remember," Katie proceeded, "you have not yet been presented : you have not had your first season. All the world will be at your feet — I know it will. You will have all the world to choose from." " Well, dear, I shall only choose one." " Tell me, Mary, just for fun, what sort you would like that one to be." " Tell you ? Well, I think I should like him to be four things, worthy, strong, brave, and useful. I'm afraid," she added half regretfully, " I should never respect him properly unless I thought him of some use. "But," said Katie ruefully, "young men never are of any use to anybody ; and you wouldn't have an old one. Even when they become great afterwards, they are all nobodies when they're young." " 0, I did not mean great, There are very few great men.

And, indeed, from all accounts, I should be very sorry to have to marry some of them." As they stood, the small bouquet which Katie was wearing became a conspicuous object to her com panion, who noticed it particularly. "Why, Katie," she exclaimed, "you are wearing the flowers George Lebel brought in this morning ! " The unexpected introduction of this name brought a quickly spreading blush to Katie's face. She let her arm drop from Mary's neck, and gently drew back until they were again side by side. " I thought I might just as well take them," she replied with a guilty laugh, " as leave them for that Richard to throw away." A shade of seriousness came over Mary's face " So you noticed how he pushed them aside ? " she asked. " Yes, Mary, I did," Katie replied. There was a slight pause. " I wish I could like that man," said Mary ; " but I never could."

Katie evidently did not know what to say, for she remained silent. "You see, Katie, after being away from home so long, when I came back there was no place empty for me. And I have not yet got quite in touch even with my father's ways, though I have tried. But he and this servant of his have been thrown together day after day for years. And I'm sure my father confides in him to some extent. Really, in one sense, they understand each other better than my father and I seem to. Richard knows this quite well. 0, he knows it as well as possible, I'm certain : and he is young, and somehow he makes me feel it. However, I should be very sorry to try to oust a servant. He is perfectly secure so far as I am concerned." She added, " I hope, Katie, you do not mind my troubling you with this. I would not if I had anyone else to speak to."

" Of course not, Mary : do not think of such a thing," was the reply. " But I cannot understand how this man ever dared to make an enemy of you : you are the mistress of the house." "There is no mistress. The place has done with out one now for years — and done very well too — that's the worst of it. I daresay Richard concludes that I could not move him if I tried. And I quite believe he is right." Katie listened in sympathetic silence, not knowing what to say. "Not that I am likely to try," Mary added, her lip slightly curling. " He has nothing to fear from me. I should be very sorry indeed to breathe a single syllable to interrupt the favour he enjoys." Katie still remained in silence. She did not try to minimize Mary's case ; but after a while she said, " Well, let us not think about him, Mary.