Rachael Longford; or, Home and its teachings. By the author of 'Sir Evelyn's Charge.'

Chapter I

" Patience, my brother ! In the temple there The Sculptor sees the place He did prepare From all Eternity, For thee to fill : For this He fitteth thee, Working His will." Unknown. " The first sure symptom of a mind in health, Is rest of heart and pleasure felt at home." Young. " Everyone seems to think me plain and common place, so I suppose I am ; at any rate I know I am not beautiful, — I wish I were, for I do admire a beautiful face more than anything in the world. Sylvia, my half-sister, is beautiful, and I do believe it makes her happier ; it must be pleasant to know that people like to look at one ; and somehow she can say and do things that I never can, — she has such a bewitching way, and her temper is so rarely ruffled : there again she has the advantage of me. But she is her mother's pride and pet, and of course B it is only natural that I should have all the tiresome uninteresting things to do that no one else cares to see to.

Well it's a weary world, and I'm sick of it all!" Such were some of the thoughts that passed through the mind of Eachel Longford, as she stood before her looking-glass, surveying disconsolately her undeniably plain features, preparatory to getting ready for church, one fair Sunday morning in June. She had scarcely finished putting on her boots when she heard her eldest brother calling out impatiently, " Come Rachie, we're all waiting. Late again, as usual," he added, as she came hurriedly downstairs. " I couldn't help it, John: I couldn't find my gloves anywhere." " That's nothing new," put in Dick, a provoking school-boy, aged twelve ; whereupon Rachel retorted sharply, and in this amiable mood they started for church. John walked on first, with his step-mother on his arm ; curbing as well as he could his own long strides to her dainty steps.

Next came Sylvia, looking lovely as usual, with her own brother Eustace, a tall slim Oxonian, and last, Rachel, Dick, and Susie, the youngest of the family. The walk to church was not a long one ; and when they are all seated in the old-fashioned square pew we can take a better view of them. No one could call John Longford strictly handsome ; his features were too massive, and yet there was something in his broad shoulders and stalwart height and strength that I used to admire more than the almost effeminate but perfect features of his half-brother Eustace. John is the head of the family now; for his father has been dead several years, and left him the care of his delicate second wife and her four children, and the special charge of his own sister Rachel. In her own corner sits Mrs. Longford, fair and fragile looking, surrounded by fans, smelling-bottles and cushions, evidently in a state of touching invalidism.

Then comes Sylvia with her lustrous eyes and rose and lily tints, and next, as if for a foil to her beauty, sits plain, heavy-featured Rachel, looking rather more forbidding than usual this morning, as she has not yet forgiven Dick the rude speeches he has amused himself with making at intervals, all the way to church. At this moment he is solemnly doing his best to upset the gravity of his little sister, Susan, but as he is in wholesome awe of his elder brothers he contrives to keep his manœuvres pretty well con cealed. The service goes on, and is concluded by a discourse from the old Vicar, of which all that can be said is that it was an excellent moral essay, and that there seemed an evident feeling of relief, both on the part of teacher and taught, when it was ended, and the congregation began to disperse.

The Longfords had hardly reached the old lych gate when they were accosted somewhat noisily by a very fashionably-dressed young lady, who with her father had just preceded them. Mr. and Miss Charrington considered themselves by far the most important personages in the parish of Chelford ; they certainly lived in the newest and most imposing-looking house, built by Mr. Charrington himself, and as magnificent as money and upholstery could make it ; but somehow the simple village folk thought far more of the Longfords, who had been inhabitants of the Manor house for untold generations, and still more, if possible, of the owner of the old Hall. He had been abroad for years, but his -very name was held in loving reverence by all. Many eyes had turned anxiously to the "squire's pew" that morning, for it was generally understood that Mr. Hesketh was coming home now, and might be expected any day ; but it was empty still, as it had been for the long past years.

" Rachel," said Miss Charrington, as they passed through the churchyard gate, " I think I shall come and see you to-morrow. When shall you be sure to be in ? " " I really cannot tell," replied Rachel, rather shortly. She was still in a somewhat ruffled state of temper, and the slightly patronising tone of Miss Charrington jarred upon her. "I may be in by five o'clock, but I cannot answer for myself before." " She has so much to do that she is quite worn to a thread-paper, as you see," put in the irrepressible Dick, glancing provokingly at Rachel's round, dumpy little figure ; " but the odd part is, nobody knows exactly what she does, unless " But at that moment Eustace joined the group, and Dick deemed it prudent to leave the rest unsaid. " When do you go back to Oxford ? " inquired Miss Charrington.

" I want to have a garden party this week, and some lawn tennis, if only I can get some people together ; but really there seems no one to ask about here. I do miss all my Brighton friends so ! " Here it may be remarked that the young lady in question professed to consider Rachel Longford her great friend; and on the whole she found it con venient, for the Longfords, of course, mingled in soeiety on terms that she and her father never could attain to, and in this way she occasionally met people who otherwise would probably have ignored her. She was building much upon the hope that when Mr. Hesketh came home, her father would at once call and make himself useful to him, and thus begin at once on a friendly footing. It was partly for this reason that she had arranged her party, for that he would return this week was quite certain.

Another reason that privately weighed with her was, that Sylvia would be away : she was going to London this week ; and though she never, even to herself, acknowledged it, she was extremely jealous of Sylvia's uncommon beauty. Notwithstanding her own reputed fortune and the costly extravagance with which she dressed, she constantly saw, with annoyance, that whenever Sylvia appeared her own star waned. She was particularly anxious to be "first in the field" on this occasion, and fortune seemed to favour her plans. The party was arranged during the walk from church, — a proceeding of which Rachel in her heart disapproved, but she was not brave enough to express her opinion then. When they got home, — during the early dinner that fol lowed, being Sunday, — John happened to remark: — " Hesketh doesn't come back this week, after all ; at least so old Bayliss thinks, as he has heard nothing; but his agent comes to-morrow, so that looks like business."

" I'm glad Mr. Hesketh isn't coming himself ! " exclaimed Sylvia, " for now I can finish my sketch of the old chapel in peace. I do hope he won't pull that down ! " " No fear ! " remarked Eustace. " He surely would not be Goth enough even to think of such a thing." "I wish he would turn it into a nice useful room, where we could have Sunday School for this end of the village," sighed Rachel. " I should not have such a long, hot walk then." " Poor little dear ! " said Dick, aggravatingly. " It is a shame. I don't envy her poor scholars to-day," he added, in an aside to Susie: "she'll be at boiling point by the time she gets there." Rachel vouchsafed no reply, and in a few minutes after rose from the table to go to the school. She was the only so-called " serious " one of the family ; but hitherto Rachel's religion had brought her but little joy.

A certain stern sense of duty prompted her to many acts of genuine self-denial and hard work; but her's was not the service of love, — not the willing obedience of a forgiven soul to Him who has ransomed it : when that is realized the joy will come. As she rose from the table, Mrs. Longford said, fretfully : — " I can't think, Rachel, why you should persist in going to that tiresome school: you would be much better employed at home, and you know how poorly I am to-day." " I must go," said Rachel, decidedly. " But why can't Sylvia attend to you ? She can read aloud quite as well as I can." " Oh, poor child, I could not think of asking her : it ahvays tires her so ! " "Yes. And I must finish my third volume of ' Love's Victory ; ' mustn't I, mammy dear ? " said Sylvia, " because the box has to go back to Mudie's to-morrow."

" How can you spend your Sunday so, Sylvia ! " exclaimed Rachel. " You must know it is not right." " It's better than being cross all day, at any rate," put in Dick. But Rachel, without waiting to hear more, left the room. As she walked through the hot fields to the school, she felt somehow that she had done more harm than good ; and a half-formed wish arose that she could enjoy, without any pricking of con science, such a Sunday afternoon as she knew Sylvia would spend, — either luxuriating in the shade on the mossy lawn, or on the sofa with her book. It chanced that her class was particularly trying that afternoon, and she got impatient ; and then, as usual, felt vexed with herself. When she went to bed that night, in spite of her efforts to do her duties con scientiously, she could not look back upon a happy Sunday.

The next afternoon Rachel rather hurried in from her district, but Miss Charrington did not appear. She waited in vain. " Sweet creature," murmured Dick, " to treat her darling Rachel so ! I only wish she would always keep away. She puts me out of patience, with her fine-lady ways and airs, — and everybody knows who she is." " Well, she's always pleasant to me, at any rate," returned Rachel. "Perhaps her father kept her to-day." " Much more likely that she found something to do that she liked better. I believe I saw her riding with old Mr. Dacre, but I'm not sure." However, the next day she did come. Rachel was sitting in the little room that the girls called their sanctum, when she heard a rather loud voice, saying — " Here I am at last, Rachel. Shall I come in this way ? "Do," said her friend, "by all means."

And she came in by the open French window. "Well, and how are all things going on at Chel ford ? " she began, as she settled herself back in an easy chair, and surveyed complacently the shining folds of her costly dress, as they fell round her. " I have hardly seen you since we came back from Brighton. The old place is dead-alive I suppose, as usual?" "Well I certainly have not heard of anything very striking," returned Rachel ; " at any rate we have been all going on much the same." " You poor child ! I wish you could have been with me at Brighton : I can't tell you the fun I had. Such riding parties and picnics, and I have made such charming friends ! " Rachel listened to the animated description of gay life that followed, with an involuntary thought of the contrast that her own had afforded during the last few months.

About five o'clock they went into the drawing-room for tea, which Mrs. Longford always dispensed herself in dainty fashion. She had not yet come in however, but Sylvia was there, trying over a new song that had just arrived. Her fresh, clear, young voice rang through the room, and Sylvia's singing was beautiful, like herself. This was another sore point with Miss Charrington, carefully as she concealed it : her greatest ambition was to sing, but it was a hopeless case, and she knew it, though the best masters had lavished their skill upon her voice. However, she never gave up the idea that it was one of her accomplishments, and in consequence sent for every new song that came out. " What is that ? " she inquired, as she entered the room. "Oh, I see! I did not recognise it at first: we have been hearing it so magnificently sung at Brighton."

" You had better give me a lesson then," laughed Sylvia, twirling round on the music-stool; "for this is the first time I have tried it : but I think it quite beautiful." "I could, of course," returned the young lady; " but there is no time now." At that moment Mrs. Longford came in, and she went to meet her with great empressement, for she always thought it wise policy to keep in well with her. And then followed tea: very old was the china, very delicate the eatables, and Mrs. Longford, with her languid graceful movements, suited the occasion well. When Sylvia had finished, she exclaimed, — " I really think, as it is such a lovely evening, I shall go and finish my sketch of the old chapel : I shall not have many more chances now. Rachie dear, if little Joe Lakin comes for his singing lesson, you'll hear him for me, won't you ? he is only learning his notes."

And Sylvia danced from the room as she spoke, without even waiting for a reply. " But I want you to walk back with me, Rachel," said Miss Charrington, rather imperiously. " I have a great deal to talk to you about, and some of my beautiful new dresses to show you." " I can't to-night, Teresa, thank you. There are two of my district women coming for calico, and I promised to cut it out for them ; and Jane Bates is coming for a reading lesson, — and then there is Sylvia's boy." "Why don't you let Sylvia attend to her own affairs ? " said Miss Charrington, impatiently. " I don't at all see why you should have all the work, and she nothing but pleasure." She would hardly have made the last remark if Mrs. Longford had not already left the room. " Oh, I'm used to it," replied Rachel, — not without an inward feeling of discontent, which she would not on any account have shown to Miss Charrington.

"Well, walk to the end of the field with me, at any rate ; surely you can do that ? " Rachel consented, and as they walked together the garden party was fully discussed. " Papa is going to call at the Hall," said Teresa, " to-day or to-morrow. I do hope he will be able to get Mr. Hesketh to come." " I'm afraid not ; for John heard that he was not coming this week. His agent has arrived I believe, so that looks like business." "How very provoking! well he can but try. I should like to introduce you to him, Rachel," she added, patronisingly. " Why John will call upon him directly," returned Rachel, chafing again : " his father and ours were very old friends." " Indeed ! " said her companion, in a tone that implied a good deal. " Well, you and your brother Eustace will see him, at any rate, unless Mr. Long ford condescends to look in in the evening."

" I'm afraid he will hardly be able ; but I will tell him he has been formally invited," said Rachel, laughing. " Sylvia won't be in London after all, for she has been asked to put off going for a week." " She must come too, then, I suppose. What a number of ladies we shall be." They had reached the end of the field now ; and here they parted, — the one to return to her luxurious home, the other to cut out her calico and teach her children. Meanwhile Sylvia had gone to finish her sketch of the ruined chapel. She passed through the little lichen-covered door that opened from the road into the park, of which John Longford had the old privilege of a key; thinking with sorrow that this might be the last time she should be able to come free and undisturbed. Through the tangled fern and brushwood she wandered on till she came to her favourite nooF, from whence through an opening of the trees she had a good view of the lonely ruin.

Untying her hat, she let it fall on the grass beside her, and eagerly began her work ; and as she sat there alone in this sylvan spot, with the sunlight on her golden-brown hair; she might well have been taken for the nymph of the woods. Suddenly, without any warning, a large dog rushed through the bushes, and, seizing her hat, began tossing it about in most puppy-like fashion. In another moment a voice had called him sharply off; and the owner thereof came up quickly, and, rescuing the hat, approached the startled Sylvia. He stood for an instant, as if bewildered by the beautiful vision before him ; but then he came forward, saying, ruefully, as he looked at the dishevelled feather : — " I am afraid it is quite spoiled." " Oh, no," she replied, smiling : " it will soon be straightened ! " and her skilful fingers speedily restored it to something like its pristine shape again.

Then she looked up, saying, half shyly, "Do you think I may finish my sketch here ? " " Pardon me, I do not quite understand you." " Why, when Mr. Hesketh himself comes, I know I must hot come in and out of the park as I have been used to do ; and I do want to finish this. He is coming this week, isn't he ? " " Very possibly," returned her companion, with a somewhat amused look. " But if this place, as you say, belongs to him, — why should you ask me ? " " Because," said Sylvia, simply, " I heard that his agent had come already, so I knew directly who you must be. No strangers ever get in here. I only come because my brother has a key." " I am sure I may give you permission to come whenever you like still," replied the stranger, smiling. " Will you allow me to look at your drawing ? " Sylvia gave it to him, saying, as she did so, — " I know it is full of faults, but there are some of those trees behind the south wall that I think I never shall do."

He looked at it, evidently with the eye of a connoisseur, and then very deferentially pointed out several mistakes, — putting in a few bold strokes himself that astonished Sylvia, they were done in such a masterly style. Just then the bell from the Manor house pealed forth, and she started up. " Why there is the dressing bell," she exclaimed. " I had no idea it was so late." He smiled as he helped her to collect her things together, and then walked with her to the door by which she had entered. Sylvia returned, quite pleased with her adventure; for she felt she had gained more instruction in those few minutes than in a dozen of the lessons she took weekly in the neighbouring city of Eastminster. They always dined late at the Manor; for John Longford was away at his business from about ten every morning to six at night.

He had succeeded his father as head of some ironworks about a mile from Chelford, and as they were likely to increase in value, he never neglected his duties there. Though not rich, the Longfords lived in an easy sort of way ; and the house and its belongings had an air of old-fashioned comfort and plenty, that more pretentious-looking places often lack. As Sylvia entered the pretty, long, low, drawing-room before dinner, in her fresh white dress, there was a flush on her cheek, and a sparkle in her eye that attracted even John's attention. " Why Sylvia, you look as fresh as a daisy, — not a bit knocked down by the heat as we all are. What have you been doing to yourself ? " he added, as he drew her down on his knee in most fatherly fashion, and passed his hand over her fair brow. John was very proud and fond of his young sister, though he did not often show it.

" Oh John, I've had an adventure ! " she answered, laughing. "I was sketching in the park, just after tea, and Mr. Hesketh's agent all on a sudden appeared on the scene. His dog had got hold of my hat, so he got it away from him, and gave it back to me, and afterwards he looked at my drawing : do you know I think he must have been a drawing master, some time or other, he seemed to know so much about it. " What sort of a person was he ? " inquired John, rather gravely. " I don't much like this sort of adventure." "Well, I could not help this, at any rate," she replied, with a merry laugh : " he came upon me so unexpectedly, and I hardly looked at him, I was thinking so much more of my sketch. I only know he was a great big creature like you. Look John ! " she added, darting off to the other side of the room for her drawing : " don't you think it will be some thing like ?

" " Very good indeed. I must see about your having some good lessons in London. But I'm afraid you're a sad idle child about other things, — eh Rachie: what do you say ? " and he turned towards his sister, who was standing in the window. " What has she done to help you to-day ? " " Oh, it does not signify ! " returned Rachel in a rather constrained voice. It was always a trial to her to see John petting anybody. He was hers, — her own ; the only being in the world who belonged to her, and jealous feelings were in her heart now. John noticed the cloud on her brow, and half guessed the cause ; but before he could speak again, Mrs. Longford came in, and he went, according to his invariable custom, to lead her to the sofa. Very pretty she looked in her clouds of soft white shawl, though the expression of her counten ance was one of weariness and discontent.

Eustace followed, and they went in to dinner. All was going on smoothly, when the door burst open and Dick rushed in, panting and breathless, so that for the moment he could not speak. " Dick, how often have I told you that I will not have you come in in this way while we are at dinner ? " said John, severely. " What do you mean by it, sir ? " " Oh, John," he exclaimed, as soon as he could speak, " there's been an accident, and they sent me to tell you ! Mr. Austin has been thrown from his horse, and he's lying close by our gate." John started off, leaving his stepmother in hysterics, and followed closely by Eustace and old Mason the butler. By the time they reached the gate a little knot of passers-by had assembled ; but they all made way respectfully as John Longford approached. " I'm afraid he's very bad, sir," said one of the men who had raised the old Vicar's head on his knee.

" I can't help thinking his horse must ha' kicked him : he's spoken ne'er a word since we found him lyin' here." "Here's the doctor," exclaimed another, as a carriage was seen coming rapidly along. " Jem must ha' met him then : that's lucky." The moment the doctor came he said, gravely, " This is serious : the sooner we get him home the better. I think if we could manage to carry him to the Vicarage, it will be better than the jolting of a carriage." Willing hands soon accomplished this, for the old man was beloved by his people, notwithstanding his dry old sermons. He had neither wife nor child to look after him ; only an old housekeeper, and a grandchild who lived with him. His one son had married, sorely against his will, a beautiful Spanish girl ; but both had been dead for years, and ever since he had had the care of their only little one.

She was a wild, weird-looking child, whom nobody ever saw, except on rare occasions. She made friends with no one, but lived in the quaint old house alone with her grandfather, — the only sunshine of his lonely life. Her alarm may be imagined when he was brought in, for he was still quite unconscious ; but after a while he opened his eyes, and by degrees began somewhat to revive, though for days after wards his life seemed to hang by a thread. c

Chapter II

"Trifles light as air Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong As proofs of Holy Writ ! " Shakespeare. The day after Sylvia's "adventure," it happened that as she was returning from a walk, she was overtaken by Miss Charrington, and as their way lay in the same direction, they walked on in company. Just as they turned a corner rather sharply, they were met by Sylvia's hero of the evening before, who raised his hat to her as he passed, with a look of unequivocal admiration, not even noticing her com panion by a glance. " Who is that ? " inquired Teresa, sharply ; " and how does he know you ? " " Its Mr. Hesketh's Agent," returned Sylvia. " He came upon me yesterday when I was drawing in the park : he did startle me," she added, laughing, " for I have never seen a soul there before ; but his dog nearly spoiled my hat, so he rescued it for me."

"An Agent indeed!" said Miss Charrington; "then I think he ought to know his place better, and not go strutting and staring about as if the whole place belonged to him." " Why some of the most perfect gentlemen I know are Agents," returned Sylvia. "Look at Mr. De Courcy 's son." But she was too much accustomed to these little ebullitions to say more, and directly afterwards they separated. Mr. Charrington having to go up to London the next morning, delayed his call on Mr. Hesketh till the very day of the party, and even then his daughter had some difficulty in urging him to encounter the heat and go. He did not, however, return to luncheon, and she felt quite sure he had stayed at the Hall, and augured well from this as to the future terms of intimacy on which they would stand. About three o'clock the guests began to arrive, and she in most elaborate toilette was on the lawn to receive them.

Still Mr. Charrington did not come, and she began to get inrpatient ; not only for him, but for the guest he was to bring with him. At last he came through a small side door, and was accompanied, — not by Mr. Hesketh, but by the Agent whom Sylvia had told her of the evening before. Her mortification and dismay may be imagined. " How could papa think of such a thing ? " she exclaimed to one of her friends. " How could he bring that man here ? it really is too provoking ! " And she turned away, as she felt pretty sure that her father would bring him to her, and she had no fancy for an introduction in that quarter ! At that moment, however, one of Mr. Cbarrington's grooms hurried towards him, apparently with some very urgent message, for he left the grounds immediately, without a word to anyone, leaving the stranger standing where he was.

"Let us make upour set now,"said Miss Charrington, " and then we need not admit anyone that we don't know," and she glanced superciliously in the direction of the new comer. Just then he caught sight of Sylvia, standing not far off with her brother Eustace. As she saw him she came forward with the free, graceful manner that accorded so well with her beauty, and shook hands. " And how does the drawing progress ? " he asked, as Eustace turned to speak to some new comer. " Have you finished it ? " "Not quite: but I have worked hard at it, and I do think it will be something like ; but it will be all thanks to you," she added, her colour rising a little. " I never could manage the touch of those trees till you showed me." He smiled. " You ought to have some really good lessons, for you certainly have the 'gift,' and without that, drawing is hopeless work."