Storm and Calm on the Downs

Preface

It was with a desire to represent some of the scenery of the South Downs, and to recall some of their associations, that this story was com menced. If some of the sentiments expressed in it should be considered unsuitable to an age of rapidity and progress, they arise from the fear that with all our advance in knowledge, there are some serious errors in the present mode of education, which do not lead to a growth in that true wisdom which is expressed in the words : " And unto man He said, Behold the fear of the Lord that is wisdom, and to depart from evil that is understanding."

Chapter I

A NEW HOME. " And how soon do you expect this little lady to come, Matthew ? " "Well, you know my dear, the train reaches Ashpole at half-past seven, and there is above an hour's drive here after that, so you must expect her a little before nine, I suppose. But whether she is Httle or tall, I cannot say." " But you have seen her." " Yes ; but that was three years ago, when she was between thirteen and fourteen, and a girl alters and grows up so much in such a time." " 0 dear ! I hope she won't be a tall, fashionable young lady, looking down upon her old country cousins, and wanting constant amusement and novelties. I am sure I cannot get on with that." " Nay, my dear, do not condemn her before hand ; she was a nice bright, pleasant looking little thing then, but she may be very plain, or she may B Downs. 2 have grown up into a very fine looking girl.

I daresay she feels very shy at coming here." " Perhaps," said Mrs. Erie, rather sadly, " but I am sure I feel more shy at her coming." " At your age, my dear ! " said her husband, good naturedly. " But do remember she is a friendless girl ; and let us hope she will soon feel the advantage of a home where people are ready to be kind to her, and to make her welcome." " Ah, Matthew ! but even with the best inten tions, that does not make people suit. After all the years we have spent alone together, it seems rather a doubtful kind of experiment to begin now with a third. We've been ' Darby and Joan ' together for such a long piece of our lives." Mrs. Erie did not look as if it had been a very unhappy portion, and her husband answered fondly, " Yes, my Joan, and what better could I wish for ? but the girl seems as if she were put into our hands, as I am her guardian, and she is now left entirely alone.

So I wish to try the experiment, and if she does not like it, and desires to leave us for another kind of life after a year or two, we are but as we were before ; if she takes to us, and likes to stay, there may be the happiness of a young life to brighten our own, when we are getting farther and faster down hill." For the good man looked to the future, "Letty is but weakly, and if I was taken from her, she would be alone, and I should be glad to have some younger, stronger person who would care for her." " Very well, my dear," she said, in rather a plaintive voice, " you settled it in rather a hurry, but of course we must keep to it as you wish. But you know, I have always said, I was afraid a girl would find nothing suitable to her tastes in this out-of-the-way place. There's no amusement to be had, there's not another girl for a companion for miles round, except at Farmer Wray's ; there's nothing for a young person to see or to do, and she'll find it frightfully dull being with two old folks.

Her tastes cannot be Hke ours, you can't expect a young thing to like just what satisfies you and me." " Quite true, Letty, but we must consult her tastes a little ourselves, we must meet half-way ; we must be prepared to give up a little on our side, as well as she on hers." Mr. Erie knew very well that his wife did not like being disturbed in her usual routine of household and parish affairs, so he added, " After all, she needn't be on your hands all day ; if she has any brains, there's the library for her, and she can also read to you sometimes if she likes." Daivns. 4 "Ah, well!" said good Mrs. Erie in rather a despairing tone, " I'm afraid I've no genius with girls." " I like girls," he said, " now if it were the boy, I should have more scruple, for they said he was idle and unmanageable at school, and yet, though he is bent on getting into the army, he will not work for it.

But if he does well at Sandhurst, there won't be any need to trouble much about him, though we must have him sometimes." " What is his name ; as queer as hers ? " '' Oh no ; he is only plain ' John : ' but her name came about as poor Sherbrook being killed at the crossing of the Alma, his poor wife seeking to find a name for the fatherless babe born ten days after the battle, pitched upon this as a standing memorial of her loss." " Dick Sherbrook was but a fooHsh fellow, wasn't he ? " "Oh yes, foolish perhaps in his marriage; and then wild and rash in enlisting afterwards, because he had nothing to live upon ; though he might soon have got up if he had lived, I daresay. But I was very sorry for poor pretty little Kitty Sher brook, who left her two little orphans alone in the world, before she was twentv-five."

"Then you think we ought to have had them before ? " " No, Letty ; I don't think it was a question while the grandparents were alive. But now, you see, I am their nearest relation, as well as her guardian, so that I do think it is a duty at least to try with the girl ; and as I said, I Hke girls," he ended, going to the door. After her husband had been called out to speak to a neighbour, Mrs. Erie fussed and fidgetted about putting the room tidy, and wondered if her shabby, quiet gown was nice enough for the young lady fresh from school and full of the newest fashions. They were a quiet elderly couple, who had never had any children, and were all in all to each other. Mrs. Erie rather hung back from the idea of the new inmate, yet she knew what her husband's last remark meant ; how his thoughts had gone back to the one sister of his name, who had died when just entering into womanhood, and she allowed, — " Ah, yes ! if all girls were like poor Sophy, I should have no fear.

" My heart quite jumped," as Mrs. Erie said, when at last the door bell rang, and she looked out into the evening darkness. A pleasant voice and a hearty shake of the hand that met her at the doorway, sounded to Alma Sherbrook like a wel come to her new home. She was tired by the long railway journey, and felt quite dazzled and be wildered as she entered the comfortable little parlour of Ivyton Vicarage. It was, however, a pair of very pleasant-looking eyes that glanced at her, and accompanied the greeting of the cold, quivering hand which Mrs. Erie held out to her ; a few friendly words followed, though in rather a constrained tone, and the next minute the strange young lady was taken to her own room, with an apology for its smallness, as " country vicarages did not contain much spare room."

A slight remark and a gay-sounding laugh from Alma very soon put Mrs. Erie more at her ease ; and as she went downstairs she remarked to her husband, " Well, my dear, I will allow I don't think the child looks at aU fine." A month had passed, and Alma was beginning to get somewhat used to her new home. It was a little dull, to be sure, to be without any of her school companions to laugh and talk with over every trifle, but on the whole she liked the change very well. The elderly couple were very kind to her, and though the breakfast was rather silent, and the early dinner rather stiff and formal, especially on days when Mr. Erie happened to be away, and Mrs. Erie was apt to be somewhat lengthy and prosy in her oft-repeated anecdotes, there was yet some comfort in a more settled life, and in the feeling of a home such as she had not known since her early childhood.

After her mother's death, she had been handed about from one relation to another, till she was old enough to go to school ; when her holidays had often been spent with her grandparents, who indulged and petted the little orphan for their own pleasure, while she ran about half wild with her brother and other boys : unless when some distant relation kindly took compassion on her, and took her for a long visit. The change to a free country life, from one which had been spent mainly at school in a large town, was naturally delightful to a girl with good health and a flow of cheerful spirits. It was all like a new world to Alma Sherbrook ; for it was like a voyage of discovery when first she made her way up to the breezy downs, and gazed with a beating heart at the distant stripe of silver sea trembling in the sunshine, when she wandered along the open green roadways winding at the foot of a slope, or between the thick tangled hedges, rich with blossom and berry.

The noise of rooks when she opened her window in the early morning, the swallows darting to and fro, and chasing the insects round the fir trees, the butterflies, the dragonflies, the hum of bees in the limes, — the dewy gossamers woven among the clumps of gorse, the distant tinkle of sheep bells, — all gave to her a feeling of rest and home-life such as she had never before experienced. Almost as far back as she could remember, her life had been spent so much at school that there was no place to which she was especially attached. Nor had she many friends with whom she was ever really intimate. There was one person whom she loved above all others, and that was her brother. They had not been much together, but those occasions had made bright and happy spots in the monotony of the years, and in her eyes he was almost a hero, with his mischievous pranks and merry ways.

How Alma should like her new relations, her old-fashioned cousins, was a question upon which she had many anxious reflections. They were very kind, but everything was different from what she had been used to. After a few days of acquaint ance, the title of ' Miss Sherbrook ' was dropped by mutual consent, and Mr. Erie suggested that as he and his wife were such old cousins, they should be addressed as ' Uncle and Aunt.' Alma coloured, and made no answer ; however, Mr. Erie carried his point, though he thought the girl did not like it. ' It recognizes a position of more authority over her,' he thought, ' and it binds the child to us all the more. He then said to her, in a very friendly way, " we hope you have come to pay us a very long visit, and that you may be very happy here with us ; at the end of that time we may see if we want to talk of any other plans."

So Alma was introduced into her new life by Mr. Erie ; he began by taking her many long and pleasant walks round the scattered set of cottages that made up the small country parish of Ivyton, in the course of which they became more acquainted with each other. She was also introduced to the old and young women, to the babies and innumerable small children that swarmed in all directions. " You must learn to know them, and help me with them, my dear ; a young person is such a valuable assistant to us old ones," said Mr. Erie, good naturedly. Alma said she liked children, though she did not know how she could manage teaching them. " And so you are come to pay us a long visit, miss," said a poor old woman who lived near the farthest end of the parish. " It will be nice for the parson and his lady to have a young miss to live with them.

I always thought they seemed a little lonesome like, and I hope yon'll stop for good and'all." " Thank you ; I don't know. Do you live by yourself? " " Yes, miss. I've got this little bit of a room, and as much as I can do it is to keep that tidy, for I've to muddle about on my knees, I'm that lame. The neighbours on both sides are very kind to me, and bring my things, else I'd starve ; for I've nobody belonging to me." " How do you live then ? " " A bit from the parish, and a bit from my garden ; and the farmer lets me stop, as I worked for him and his father nigh on fifty years. I shall like to see your face, young miss," she said, with an attempt at a curtsey, as Alma left the room. Mr. Erie went to the door of another cottage. " Well Mrs. Bates, how are you and your young folks. Are you getting strong again ?

" " Yes, thank ye, sir," said a lean worn-looking woman, surrounded by a number of young children," only baby's teething, and Nelly's had fits." " Are they better now ? " Yes, sir, quite well now." " Then why haven't you sent any of the children to school for so many weeks ? " " Oh ! I beg pardon, sir, but they've no shoes fit to go in." Mr. Erie looked down at a number of little feet ; it was truly the case that some of them were nearly shoeless. " But the weather has been very dry, Mrs. Bates, you might have sent those who could come. Besides, I am sure at least half your money for the shoe club ought to have been paid up by this time, and if you had mentioned it perhaps Mrs. Bates rocked the crying baby backwards and forwards, and said uneasily, " Well, a Httle, sir ; but you see my husband is not in full work."

" Yes, I know he has been laid up for a week or two with rheumatism, which he caught in doing what he ought not. Why is he out looking after Farmer Wray's rabbits so many of these nights, eh?" Mrs. Bates curtsied and see-sawed the baby about still harder, and at last stammered out, " You see, sir, we've so many mouths." " Yes, I do see ; but isn't that all the more reason your husband should work honestly to pro vide for them. If he would leave off poachiug, he might be in constant work. But who will care to employ a dishonest man ? However, send up the three biggest children to the Vicarage tomorrow, and Mrs. Erie will see to their shoes. Only send them to school, and you must pay when you can. Good morning." Mrs. Bates was profuse in thanks and curtsies, as the Vicar walked out of the door.

" If only she will send the children," said he. " But she is not a very trustworthy person. I think I shall have to put the little ones under your charge, Alma, to see that they come to school," said he, turning to her pleasantly. The next cottage contained a poor old couple, who Hved on their parish pay, and upon such addi tions as they could get from hop-picking and harvesting ; but they were very cheerful, and tho old man toddled off with his two sticks into his garden, to tell the parson the history of all his plants, and of his bees, and of the pig which Farmer Wray would sell for him at market, and which he hoped would bring him in a pound or two. Alma thought they were very poor rough people, and very ignorant; no doubt they were in some ways ; but there might be something to do amongst them.

He brought her out to a hollow near the top of the downs, and led the way to a seat cut in the turf. "Now, look round, and see if you don't think this worth something." " Indeed, it is," said Alma, as she looked down the smooth shaven slope, curving into a deep green cup, in the bottom of which were nestled a few cottages, surrounded by elm trees in their spring beauty, rejoicing in tbe sunshine of April ; while high above the bare shoulder of down rose against the clear blue sky, and the rooks and a stray kite hovered overhead, as if basking in the warmth and sunshine. " I used often to come up here with Aunt Letty, to refresh ourselves with tbe beauty of a day like this." "Was she fond of coming up here?" asked Alma. " Yes, very ; for even Aunt Letty and I were young once," he said, with a half-amused smile.

" I used to bring my books, and she would bring her work, and we spent many an hour up here. Then sometimes I would make my sermon, walking up and down on this little terrace ; it always seemed to me, out in the open air, and watching their work in the fields below, and looking into something of the life they led, I could speak more truly to the hearts and feelings of the people I met in church every Sunday, helped by having taken in so much of the beauty, and purity, and won drousness of the earth, with which they were so familiar." Then he turned round, and pointed out the distant rising town on the sea shore, adding, " At that time it was only a fishing village, and I suppose I knew by sight most of the families who came to the seaside houses. I have known them come up to the downs summer after summer, some on ponies, and some on donkeys — ladies, gentlemen, and children — spending the whole afternoon strol ling about, or sketching, or simply enjoying the lovely scene ; while the children played about, or hunted for nests in the furze bushes, or gathered bunches of the wild flowers that grew up here.

There was one set so familiar to me, that I felt as if I must take off my hat to them, though I did not even know their names. That was the way in which people enjoyed the sea in those quiet times." " And don't they now?" said Alma. "It is a fashionable crowded place, with its swarms of visitors, its smart parades, and noisy bands, aud all that. People are too busy to think about the downs, though, to be sure, they have their large expensive picnics, with all manner of luxuries, and their vans driving to the top, when a horn is blown in half-an-hour's time to collect the visitors. But that is not what I should call enjoyment, or seeing the downs either." ( "5 )

Chapter II. Down To The Gap

" A note for Miss Sherbrook," said Mrs. Erie, as she met them one afternoon on their return, and held it out to Alma. "Annette Wray has been here since you went out," said she, turning to her hus band," and she wanted to know if our young lady would like to drive with them down to the Gap, as they are going to take a cousin there for the after noon, making a little picnic of it, in short." " I wonder how they would go, they have nothing but their pony cart ? " " I daresay they would pack four in that. Well, Alma, what do you say ? " " I forget who Annette Wray is, who invites me to join their party, though I know you told me." " Her father has the largest farm about here, and she is the eldest daughter ; she is a very good girl, and a great favourite of mine." Damns. 16 Alma's look of eagerness seconded her words.

" I should indeed like to go very much ; I'm so fond of the sea, and I have only seen it yet from a distance; if," she added, doubtfully, "there is no objection." " Not in the least," said Mrs. Erie, "I only did not know if you would consider them good enough to make companions of." Alma felt her cheeks burn, but she did not know what to say. Did Mrs. Erie think her so very proud then ? Mr. Erie presently said, " Well, I am very fond of Annette Wray, and her father has been a most valuable help to me since first I came. Hadn't you better write and accept it ? " " Thank you, I should Hke to do so." As Alma left the room to write her answer, she thought, " What two different people they are ! " Tuesday came, and Alma soon found herself seated in the pony cart beside a pleasant sensible looking young woman.

Annette Wray was several years older than herself, hardly so well educated, but so unpretending and simple, and so entirely without any effort to be above her natural position in society, that every one Hked and respected her. She began at once, in a friendly way, " I hope you will excuse me, Miss Sherbrook, for not having called to ask you, but I have been more than usually Down to the Gap. 17 busy, as my mother has not been well, so every thing depends upon me ; but Mr. Erie said before you came, that he thought you were fond of the sea, and would like going down to it some day, so I thought I might ask you when we were taking our cousin." " Thank you. I am sure it was very kind of you, and I do like going very much. I have never had much enjoyment of the sea, for I have only seen it from a town."

" That is not like where we are going now ; it's just sea and green, and one or two cottages, and nothing else." " That must be nice ; do you often go there ? " " Not often, for I am generally too busy to spare a day for it. You see a farm furnishes a great deal to do, and to see to." " What ! do you look after the dairy, or the poultry ? " " Both ; and a great deal besides ; and when my brothers are at home, there is all the more to do, for we have four big boys and two little ones." " And how many sisters to look after them ? " " Oh ! it mostly falls on me," said Annette. laughing; "for Lydia is only just come home, — and there are two tiny girls in addition." c " What a nice pony ! do you often drive him far ? " " I usually drive my mother into the town for shopping about once a week." " Miss Sherbrook !

" broke in a high clear voice behind her ; " You're just come from school, aren't you?" " Yes ; how did you know ? " " Mr. Erie told us so ; and so am I. I wonder if you were as glad as I was to leave it ? " " I'm sure I don't know," said Alma, looking amused. " But why were you so glad to leave it?" " Oh ! I was never so delighted as when Father came to take me home. To have done with lessons, grammar and history, and poetry, which I would never learn ; and not to see a French governess at every corner, but, instead, to roam about and have as much fun as I liked — oh ! it was delightful. But you don't mean to say you were sorry. Didn't you hate the regular lessons ? " " No, not at all," said Alma, laughing," and I was very sorry to leave off being taught some of the things in which I was very much interested."

" You are not like me then. But I'm sure you must find it terrible dull living with two old people, now don't you ? Mr. Erie is all very well, for he Dozen to the Gap. 19 does joke sometimes, but to see Mrs. Erie sitting opposite you all day long, looking at you over her spectacles in this way," and she threw up her head and poked out her chin, " and taking you all in, Miss Sherbrook ! " " Now, Lydia," said her sister, reprovingly, " do stop talking ; you know, as well as I do, you are very fond of Mrs. Erie. The only excuse for her, Miss Sherbrook, is, that she is quite wild at having just come home." " Quite wild ! not a bit ; its only what I mean always to be, when good Mrs. Erie is not in sight ; " and she made the same face again. Alma laughed in spite of herself. " There, now," said Lydia, " I'm so glad I've made you laugh ; I've been trying to see your face in church, Miss Sherbrook, but though I have peeped a great many times, I have never managed to catch your eye ; yet I can see now you are fond of mischief."

" Come, Lydia," said the cousin, who now spoke for the first time, " do leave off your nonsense, and let us look about and see how pretty it all is ; I don't think I ever saw anything like it before." So Alma thought too, as they turned into a lane where rich overhanging woods climbed up and down the high banks, that shut it in on both sides, while a little water course was heard plashing among the rank weeds at the bottom of the deep valley they had just entered. The road wound in and out amongst the downs, past many a smooth, shining slope, over whose grassy sides sunlight and shadow flitted by turns, with little farmsteads asleep in the hollows that sheltered them from the keen east winds. "I can see you care for the country," said Annette, " but I suppose you have never lived in it before."

" No, never ; but I have often wished for it." "Some people think our little village very dull and sleepy. You must find the Vicarage very quiet after being used to many companions. But then, Mr. Erie is so delightful in himself, I think it must be so nice to live with them." Alma did not respond at once, she only said rather doubtfully, "you see I haven't had much time to make acquaintance." " No, I suppose not. Mr. Erie is so cultivated and so fond of his books, I often wonder how it is we have so learned a gentleman here : he must be very much at a loss for company I often think, for there's not another such gentleman for miles round. He is so nice to Father too (though of course Father Dozen to the Gap. 21 does not think about books), and he has done such a deal of good in the parish."

" Has he ? " said Alma, rousing up, " I should like to hear about that." " But that's just what I can't tell you," said Annette, " at least, not how he has done it all. But the people are much better behaved altogether than they used to be when first he came to Ivyton. Do you know, they would actually go and write silly and bad things inside the church porch, which was all whitewashed, so that everybody saw them as they went into church. It was quite a disgrace." " Did Mr. Erie get them to leave off doing that ? how could he ? " " He went first and had all the whitewash and plaster picked off, and had it fresh done over on a Saturday night ; but as they came again and adorned it in the week, he went to work afresh, and asked some of the big lads whom he suspected of the worst mischief, to come and help him, saying he was sure they would like to see how neat and nice the porch looked, and would help him to keep it in order like sensible grown-up men."

" And how did they take it ? " " Oh ! some of them laughed, and some said " Oy ! " but they didn't meddle with it again. The people he finds it most difficult to deal with are the ' foresters,' as they used to be called ; people who move from place to place, and who live a great deal by poaching. They are in one parish one week, and then off to another, and nobody knows where to find them." "How ever do they live then ? But, oh ! what a pretty village, and what a fine, old church tower, close by the large pond." " We will get out here, and leave the pony cart at this Httle inn, and walk the rest. Come, girls, bring out the basket with you. I am afraid you will be disappointed, Miss Sherbrook, in your first view of the sea." They passed through a farmyard gate, and then walking along on the smooth, fresh turf, with the downs on either side sloping down towards the shore, and ending in a dip down to the beach, right before them rose the sea.