The Troubles of an Heiresss. A novel

Front matter

VOL. II. a EDINBURGH COLSTON AND COMPANY PRINTERS A NOVEL. BY CECIL LUCAS. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL II. LONDON: F. V. WHITE & CO., 31 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C. 1887. [All Rights reserved.] CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. An Interlude, . . . . i II. A New Chapter Opened, . . 15 III. More Love Passages, . . .32 IV. The Frasers at Home, . . .42 V. First Flashes of the Storm, . 62 VI. Suitors Young and Old, . . 79 VII. Entertainments, . . . -96 VIII. Captain Hope, . . . .124 IX. Another Proposal, . . .137 X. A Round of the Guns, . . .158 XI. Visits,. . ■ • ■ .176 XII. Crakeil, . - . • .204 POPULAR NEW NOYELS. Naw 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. GARRISON GOSSIP, Gathered in Blankhampton.

By the same Author. Cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. THE OUTSIDER. A Spirting Novel. By Hawley Smart. New Edition. In 1 vol. THE GIRL IN THE BROWN HABIT. A Sporting Novel. By Mrs Edward Kennard. Cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. STRAIGHT AS A DIE. By the same Author. Cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. BY WOMAN'S WIT. By Mrs Alexander. Author of ' The Wooing O't.' Cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. KILLED IN THE OPEN. By Mrs Edward Kennard. Author of 'The Right Sort.' Cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. IN A GRASS COUNTRY. By Mrs H. Lovett-Cameeon. Author of ' A North Country Maid,' etc. (Sixth Edition.) Cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. THE BOND OF WEDLOCK. By Mrs Campbell Praed. Author of ' Nadine.' Cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. F. Y. WHITE & Co., 31 Southampton Street, Strand, London, W.C.

Chapter I. An Interlude

AVENDISH SQUARE was Frances' destination ; and long after, she remembered the Holy Week she spent with the Percivals as one of the peculiarly restful times of her life. There was no great outward demonstration that they intended to spend the week differently from any other week ; but in the most quiet, un obtrusive way every arrangement was made with reference to the season. There were no extra guests at dinner ; and Lady VOL. II. A Mary seemed to have put aside her shopping, her calls, her social duties. ' We are going to take you to-morrow to the Passion Music at St Paul's, Frances,' said Mary, after dinner the first day. ' Will you not like that ? ' ' Oh, Mary ! I should think so ! How delightful ! What time is it ? ' ' At seven ; we have four tickets for the choir ; and you, mother, and I are going.

Is Gerald to have the other ticket, mother? ' ' He can't go, dear. He has to preach at the Mission room, and I think I might as well send the ticket to George Car michael, since your father can't go, and Sophy does not care to. I asked him the other day if he would like it.' ' Yes, do, mother ; and tell him he had better be there early.' ' He can come in to tea, and go with us,' replied Lady Mary, as she wrote a note. ' Gerald is taking the mid-day service at St Paul's these four days,' said Mary. * You must come and hear him, Frances.' So the next day Mary and Frances An Lnterlude. 3 walked down to St Paul's with Lady Mary, in time for the mid-day service. The Cathedral was rather full, the congregation mainly composed of men, for the most part clerks or business men, with here and there a stray person in fustian.

Groups of ladies, too, and a few Sisters. At one-fifteen Gerald Percival and one of the minor Canons came in, Gerald going straight to the pulpit. He began to speak of the teaching of that week, — Watching by the Cross, — what it meant. His words were simple and yet earnest, spoken without a note — spoken as it were straight from the young preacher's heart. For a few minutes a handful of worshippers had gathered together from the din and toil of the great city, to watch by the Cross : only a few moments, and they would all go back to their round of labour. Could they take back to that work any sanctify inginfluence from the Cross of Christ ? Gerald asked. There is something in the influence of Holy Week most dear to a mourner's heart, and Frances did not miss the sooth ing of those quiet hours.

After the short address came the unaccompanied hymn, ' When I survey,' and a few Psalms and Prayers. How calm, how quiet. No excitement, no noise, and yet did not the lessons of Holy Week come home to many weary hearts of those who came together that day ? Frances was deeply impressed. ' What a glorious place St Paul's is,' she said, as she walked down the steps with Mary. ' It is like a great heart, all throb bing with life.' ' Yes, I wish all the rabid Dissenters who talk about the Church beings the church of the rich only, could be made to come here on a day like this, or when some of the great preachers are here. I wonder, Frances, sometimes, at the sneers at our Church which some writers are so fond of uttering.' 'Well, I suppose there are clergy with great faults and small minds ; and I have known foolish people who were not very worthy specimens of their profession, even in my small world.' ' Oh, yes.

Last summer we were stay ing at Lord Courton's, and the Episcopal clergyman came to dine and sleep. (Cour ton Castle is in Perthshire). Afterwards Lord Courton told us he had pointed out father to this man, a Canon of some Scotch cathedral, and had said he was a very distinguished Fellow of the Royal Society. "Ah," said the Canon, " and what is the Royal Society ? " ' Oh, Mary ! Is that really true ? ' Yes, quite true ; and after that father and he 2sot into a talk, and he found father had read a paper on the bearings of Science on Religion, at a Church Congress where he professed to have been present ; but apparently he had never even heard the name of Percival. Father talked about the German school of criticism, and the man had never so much as heard of that — fancying father meant about Baalam's ass, and Joshua and the sun, and so on.

Now, what a terrible state of ignorance that was ; and this Canon was really most awfully conceited, and told mother afterwards that he was quite satisfied with Professor Percival's views.' ' Oh, Mary ! ' ' Mother looked rather surprised, and said so was she. She had always con sidered her husband the best theologian she knew personally, and had never found it necessary to consult any one else. Many people, however, connect the ideas of science and infidelity together, and he did not know my father went in for defence of Christianity, and all that. Mother, we had better take a hansom now, hadn't we ? We are to have tea to-night, and sup when we come home. Put on something warm, Frances, for coming out, the wind is so cold.' Frances spent the afternoon in the schoolroom, reading, writing to Mrs Matthews, and listening to Mary, who played her a good deal of the Passion Music they were going to hear.

Tea was spread in the dining-room, and they were all sitting round when a ring was heard and a minute after George Carmichael walked in. 'Ah, Carmichael ! here is tea for you,' said the Professor. ' So you are going to St Paul's ? Can you give him some tea, Mary ? It is too dark to see where it is.' ' Well, dear, we can find the proverbial way to our mouths, I daresay,' Mary replied, passing up a cup. ' Here's the friendly muffin.' ' I did not know you were here,' said George to Frances. ' I am always having such slices of good fortune.' ' I am staying here for Easter. I am so glad we are going to this. Do you know it ? ' ' Pretty well. I heard it twice in Ger many.' ' Now let us go,' interposed Lady Mary. ' We four can pack into papa's carriage, which he has graciously put at our disposal.' ' Poor Dad !

He has to listen to dreary papers to-night,' said Mary. ' Good-bye, dear.' They got to St Paul's about a quarter past six, and were admitted by a little door and a winding staircase, which led straight into the choir. There were not many people seated as yet, so they got chairs close to the choir stalls. The nave was packed from end to end. Very soon the choir itself was filled, and the organ played soft voluntaries. Men bearing violins, 'cellos, and other instruments, and singing men and boys in surplices, took their places. Then seven boomed out, and the regular choir, followed by a long procession of clergy, took their places. Solemnly rang out the Miserere ; next followed a few Collects, and then the congregation seated themselves while the first notes of that in describably glorious music filled their ears.

Bach's Passion Music can never be for gotten, especially when it has been heard with that perfect musical rendering and solemn reverence which are found side by side in St Paul's. No one can feel alto gether unmoved by the almost awful silence which falls when the pause is made after the recitative, ' Then He fell on His face;' by the wild cry ' Barabbas ; ' by the solemn chorales and beautiful airs which follow one another in harmonious succession. To a nature like Frances', at once devo tional and musical, the experience was almost overwhelming ; and when the last notes died away, and the solemn words of blessing were pronounced, she remained kneeling in her place, longing to stay on, and to keep with her the impressions of that evening;. It seemed hard to g-o back to the work-a-day atmosphere outside, even to people like her friends.

Mary did not speak to her at all ; but as they went down the narrow stair she contrived to grasp her hand, and gave it a warm pressure. Mr Carmichael did not come back with them, and the drive was very quiet. ' I shall never forget this. You have given me a happy evening,' said Frances, as she bade good-night to Lady Mary. 'It is glorious, indeed, dear, and makes one enter into the spirit of this week more than anything else I know.' Good Friday was a peaceful, quiet day. There was a great deal of church going, and Frances had her first experience of a three hours' service. ' I must say, Mary,' she remarked, as they walked home from an evening service, at the close of which the ' Story of the Cross ' had been sung, ' I must say it seems to me that it is easier to be good in London than in other places.

People talk of the excitements and whirl and temptations of London, but, on the other hand, it has surely more help to devotion* more incentives to goodness.' ' Yes ; but I do think life is a whirl to a great many people in London. In the season, for instance, just figure to yourself the life that many really good people lead. I always admire my mother. Do you know, Frances, she goes so much into society, and has so much to do in every way, and yet from the days I can just remember she always found time to teach me, and Gerald too, before he went to school, some of our lessons, and nearly always she was in at six or thereabouts, and heard us our prayers when we were little, and as we grew older, read with us. And she goes to church often in the week, and to early service, and she reads so much, and does so much parish work — G.F.S. and so on — and yet she never seems in a whirl.' ' How does she manage ? ' ' Well, she has quiet little rules.

She manages to escape very late parties, and, just for the sake of a rest, she never goes out on a Saturday. Of course next season poor mother will have harder work, as I come out ; but I must try and not be too unreasonable in the way of balls. Dear mother ! She is an ideal mother.' ' Oh, Mary ! you are a happy girl.' ' Yes, Frances, I am. But perhaps I ought not to rave about my people.' ' I like it — oh so much, Mary ! You don't know what a pleasure it is to hear about them. I think you are an ideal family, like the people in story books.' ' Not large enough, Frances. There is too small a number. Miss Yonge ranges from six to thirteen. Here we are at home.' ' Frances/ said Lady Mary, who had not been out again, ' there is rather a sur prise for you. Your cousins have landed dear ; and Sir Alexander has been here.

Don't be frightened. Why, my child, how you tremble ! He is gone now.' ' What is he like ? ' asked Frances. ' Oh ! very tall and stout ; very Scotch ; a little rough, perhaps, but good-natured, I should think. It appears they landed on Thursday, and went straight to Onslow Gardens. They sent a note to Fairbairn Place ; but Miss Grey, of course, is away, and none of the students or servants seemed to know where you were. Miss Fraser went yesterday to hunt you up, and at last discovered to-day, in some way or other, that you were here. I have pro mised to take you to call to-morrow ; but I explained to Sir Alexander that you were staying with me, and were going on to Bournemouth ; and he said he supposed his sisters would be more settled in another week or so. He would not stay. He seemed in a great hurry to get home.

Now, come and eat some supper, and we must send you early to bed. I am sure you are tired.' Frances indeed was tired, and glad to be by herself in the quiet little room. She wanted to think over the day's lessons. Somehow it seemed to her that this week was a time of quiet and rest before beginning a new life. It seemed less hard to bear loneliness and bereavement, less frightening to go into the world, after these days' watching by the Cross. What child's play was any trial of hers in comparison with what He had borne for her. It is so true that times of sorrow bring us nearer to Him. Frances' whole spiritual life had changed and deepened during the past year, together with her character. From a very childish girl, she had grown into a thought ful maiden — almost too grave for her nine teen years.

She knelt down by the writing-table in the window, and prayed earnestly that the impressions of Holy Week might never pass away from her ; that no distractions and pleasures might ever hide the Shadow of the Cross. And then she lay down, and slept as peacefully as a little child.

Chapter II

A NEW CHAPTER OPENED. HE Percivals went to church at eight a.m. on Easter Eve, as they had done all the week ; and after breakfast Lady Mary said she supposed Mary and Sophy would go over to St Peter's about the decora tions, as usual, ' while Frances and I make our way to Onslow Gardens ; and as I can get there about eleven, I should think that will suit the Frasers.' ' Thank you for coming with me.' ' As if we should let you go to make your new guardians' acquaintance all by yourself! ' said Mary. ' Mother is still going to look after you, little one.' ' I feel as if a visit to the dentist was in prospect ; I want to stretch my arms and yawn continually,' said Frances, laughing. ' I will go and finish my letter to Mrs Matthews ; it must go to-day.' ' There, dear ! I will order the brougham for half-past ten.

Poor little dear ! She does dislike going to these people so much,' said Lady Mary, when Frances had left the room. ' I can't say I am much im pressed by the Baronet's mind or manners ; he is more like a rough merchant captain than a Scottish gentleman. However, we must hope for the best.' No. 235 Onslow Gardens was a large house, and the gardens were looking green and fresh in early spring beauty. The house was evidently in confusion ; but they were shown up by a man-servant into a large drawing-room, partly furnished, in which a fire was burning ; and, almost as soon as they were in, another door opened, and a very stout but not very tall woman advanced. She was peculiarly odd looking. One eye was partly closed, which gave her face a slightly unpleasant expression. Her mouth was large and coarse, her com plexion ruined by smallpox.

Her hair, arranged in a rather elaborate way, was yellow, and frizzed round her forehead in most wonderful twists. She wore a rich black silk dress, and a large diamond ring. Frances took in these details in a moment ; she had not time to speak before she was caught in Miss Fraser's arms and kissed. 'So! Here you are!' in a loud voice, and very broadest of Scotch vernacular. ' Delighted to see you, my dear. Mrs Percival, I believe,' in a rather con descendingtone. ' Miss Fraser, Lady Mary Percival/ said Frances. ' Lady Mary was kind enough to bring me over.' ' I wished to make your acquaintance very much,' said Lady Mary. ' My husband and I are so fond of little Frances, that we hope you will allow us to call formally as soon as you are settled.' ' Most kind of you,' said Miss Fraser, VOL. II.

B with an indescribable bow, in which con fusion, respect, and curiosity were all mingled together. ' This is my sister Anne,' as a very tall woman with black hair, high cheek bones, but somewhat better features than herself, came in. 1 So glad to see ye, my dear ! Eliza and I are so pleased to have a young girl to live with us. We shall just spoil ye, and make a great pet of ye, I am thinking.' Frances kissed her and said, — 'You are very kind.' ' Introduce Anne to Lady , I did not quite catch the name,' said Miss Fraser, Avith a gracious smile. Frances again made the introduction. 'You must have a good deal to do,' said Lady Mary ; ' I hope you will like town, and this part of it.' ' Oh, yes ! We are quite pleased,' returned Miss Fraser. ' Anne and I, you see, Lady Mary, only went out to Rio some ten years ago, and I remember, as we passed through London, we liked Kensington fine.

So we just got a friend to take us a house about here. There is a good deal of furniture in it, and we are going to take it all at a valuation.' ' You see, Lady Mary Percival,' struck in the younger sister, ' Alick, he likes a grand big house, big rooms. He said he is a big man, and likes to fling him self about.' ' Quite so,' said Lady Mary ; 'and these are charming houses.' ' Let me show you over this,' said Miss Fraser. 'I have got a suite for Frances. Is that what you are called every day ? or shall we begin with Fanny ? ' ' Oh, please keep to the first, Miss Fraser,' replied Frances, smiling ; ' but why did you provide me with a suite of rooms, one would have been enough.' ' Tut ! tut ! There's plenty o' rooms. Come awa the noo. You see we have two grand big rooms here, and there is a boudoir behind, which I am just going to make a nice bedroom.

We don't give big parties, being old people. Then up here there's a big bedroom for Alick, and another for Anne and me. And here, Frances,' as they reached the next floor, ' is a bedroom and boudoir for you. Anne's just set her heart on a little snuggery for you ; and I daresay you'll let her in. I hate the stairs, any way. I've had the things that were sent here of yours put in there, and by the time you come to us, it'll be nice and snug.' ' Oh, that is delightful ! ' said Frances. ' You must not take so much trouble on my account.' ' Oh, tuts ! I am just going to give you all that's proper for a young lady in your position. Now we'll go and see the rest of the house. I shall be glad of your advice, Lady Mary Percival, about it.' And into every room and cranny of that bran new house in Onslow Gardens the party penetrated, Miss Fraser showing it off with childish pride and exultation.

She had brought one or two servants over with her, and had engaged one or two more already, being evidently energetic and determined to settle down speedily. Both the sisters talked at the top of their voices, and gave Lady Mary all the information possible about themselves, their upbringing in a quiet Scotch village, life in Rio, their brother's money, their intentions as to their future life, etc., etc. Frances was utterly wearied, repelled by their vulgarity, and yet touched by the good-nature of both, as well as by their apparent pleasure in her coming to live with them. At last Lady Mary said she must go. ' Well, we are not altogether ready for Frances yet ; and if she is on a visit to you, I am sure we will be pleased for her to continue it.' ' She has arranged to go to Bournemouth on Tuesday, to pay a visit to some very old friends,' said Lady Mary ; ' do you not think it will be best for her to make a stay of a fortnight or so, and then come to you ? ' ' Very well, very well ; I suppose that will be best.

Now, won't you stay and have lunch, Lady Percival ? Sir Alexander will be in the noo ; and although we are not just settled, you will excuse. I have a first-rate cook, and a very good butler.' ' Thank you ; but I am afraid I must really go home ; my husband will be at home, and it is Saturday ; and naturally there are a good many things to do.' 'Oh, to be sure!' said Miss Fraser. ' Well, Frances, we'll let you away, and you must write me down your address, and I will let you know when we shall expect you. And I have a maid engaged to wait on us three. I need little attention, and I think one will be enough.' ' Oh, yes ! I need very little indeed, thank you.' ' You will be requiring dress and things, no doubt ; but we'll leave all this at pre sent. We'll just call Alick to see you, though. Alick, come up the stair.' Sir Alexander came up at this call to the drawing-room.

He somewhat resembled his elder sister. His features were larae, his whiskers bushy, and his head covered with a profusion of iron-grey hair. He was tall, very stout, and had a good-natured expression, marred by a rather sly look in his small grey eyes. ' Well, Alick, here's Frances ! You know Lady Percival,' said Miss Fraser, who seemed unable to grasp Lady Mary's proper title. Her new guardian shook hands not unkindly with Frances and Lady Mary, and remarked that it was a fine day. ' We have just been admiring your new house,' said Lady Mary. ' Oh ! Eliza's just like a great child. She's been taking you all over it, I suppose, and prating away. I heard her tongue going like the clapper of a mill.' ' Tut, Alick, tut ! I wanted to show Frances her future home.' ' Well, yours isn't the only house in London.' ' Indeed, it was very kind,' said Lady Mary. ' Now, I must say good-bye.' ' Take Lady Mary Percival to the brougham, Alick.

Alick's just been looking at a pair of bays — pretty creatures they are. Are they at the door now ? ' A pair of fine-looking horses were, in fact, at the door, harnessed in a break. ' What beautiful horses ! ' said Frances, lighting up for the first time. ' Do you like horses ? ' asked her cousin. ' Oh, so much ! I was wondering if you would allow me to ride.' 'To be sure; I'll look out a nice lady's horse for ye, at once. Can you ride ? ' ' Oh, yes ; pretty well, I think. I had such a nice mare at home. Do you — would you be so very kind as to allow me to make inquiries about her ? She was sold ; but I think she might be got back again.' ' Yes ; but you'd better let me have a look at her, to see if it is worth while. You want a stylish - looking horse in London, you know. You'll ride in the Row, and we'll have you properly turned out.

However, let me know where the mare is, and I will see about it.' ' Thank you,' said Frances. Sir Alexander looked at her admiringly, as he shook hands, and handed Lady Mary in, rather awkwardly. ' Well, Frances, I think they will be kind enough,' said Lady Mary. 'Oh, yes ! but—' ' Oh, cheer up, dear. Perhaps they are not quite the kind of people you have been used to meet ; but I think they mean to pet and make much of you. How pleased Sir Alexander looked when you praised the horses. Really, I think you may be very happy.' But Lady Mary looked rather grave, when, after lunch, her daughter pursued her into her little boudoir, and begged to know her impressions of Frances' guardians. ' Well, Mary, I don't know what to say. They are not refined, nor even educated people, in any way ; and although they seem good - natured, there was a look about all three — especially the two elder ones — which betokens tolerably hot tempers.

No — but remember this is only to you — -I am not favourably impressed ; and I only wish our little castles in the air would come true, and poor little Frances was safe in a home of her own.' Frances herself had not much to say. She spent the afternoon in helping Mary and Sophy at St Peter's, and was grave and quiet all the evening. Easter Day was fine and warm ; and the services at the beautiful London church bright and devotional. If, therefore, unbidden tears rushed to Frances' eyes sometimes at the thoughts of Easter in the little church at home, they were not bitter ones. Gerald came over on Easter Monday, looking white and tired after Holy Week ; but, in spite of weariness, full of jokes and merriment. Frances found herself alone with him for a little while after lunch. ' How glad you must be to get away from the East End a little.' ' Well, I am.

Easter is a very happy time ; but I sometimes wish we clergy had an Easter all to ourselves, — a time when we could listen and be taught, in stead of teaching.' Frances was silent a moment. ' Have you heard from the Bishop and Mrs Matthews ? ' asked Gerald. ' Only a line from Brindisi. They were very well, both good sailors. I wish they were not so far away.' ' Yes, you must miss them. ' Oh, I do ! It is strange to be going to people whom one does not know at all.' ' It is, indeed. I suppose you and Mary are coming out ; you and Mary will have pleasant times together.' ' Oh, I hope so. But — you won't think me foolish ? ' ' No, indeed.' ' I know I am silly ; but the truth is, I feel frightened and perplexed altogether about society, and amusements, and pleasure.' ' Perhaps,' said Gerald kindly, ' you have been entering into the spirit of Lent a little, and you do not want to lose those impressions ; is that it ? ' ' Yes, I think so.

But also I am afraid of making mistakes, — of not doing what I ought. It seems so easy to go gently down the stream, and let things slide. I think I have suddenly wakened up to this from a course of Pusey's Sermons.' ' I can quite understand that, and it is always well to watch one's self ; but there is another side to this. If you turn away from other books sometimes, and only look, at the face of our Lord in the Gos pels, His face is so intelligible, so signi ficant, so sympathetic, that one has only to realise that it is indeed the face of God ; and then at least one is sure He understands us, and makes allowances for us. Do excuse me, Miss Kenyon. I don't know if I have any business to be advising.' ' Oh, indeed, I am so glad ! It is very kind of you. I think one gets stupid sometimes.' ' Yes, indeed.