Bishop's Cranworth; or Rosamond's Lamp

Front matter

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Chapter I. Kington-on-bream

" Teach my endeavour? so Thy works to read, That learning them, in Thee I may proceed ; Give Thou my reason that instructive flight, Whose weary wings may on Thy hand; still light ; Teach me to soar aloft, yet ever so, When near the sun to stoop again below. Thus shall my humble feathers safely hover, And though near earth more than the heavens discover." Sir Thomas Browne, 1642. 8jjJ®f RS - WORTHINGTON was sitting ja.VMI \ before her writing-table, which was jgs%$&fr covered with letters and bills. Those people who do not receive these troublesome messengers at Christmas are happy. Mrs. Worthington was not of that number. BISHOB'S CRANWORTH. 10 And yet what a hard fight she had made to bring together these "two ends," which, in spite of all her straining and effort, seemed to show a wider gap, year by year.

Mr. Worthington had held the living of King ton-on-Bream for twenty years ; but year by year the value of the living had decreased, and unhappily his necessities had increased in pro portion. Who can have eight children, and find the means which sufficed for two people in the halcyon days of early married life, enough to meet the demands of food, clothing, and education ? There are some people who do manage marvellously, — who can call upon their sixpences to perform the duty of shillings, nay, of florins, in the hands of their less economical neighbours ; but again I must confess, Mrs. Worthington was not amongst these. She was looking at the bills, and singling out those on which it was possible to pay the sum which stood in such uncompromising distinctness, at the head of the lined page : — " Bill delivered."

The lines on her forehead deepened, and there were signs of tears on her eyelashes. She was so absorbed that she had not turned when the door opened and her eldest daughter, Winifred, came KING TON- ON-BREA M. 11 in. Winifred had been born in the happy days when "the waters of Siloah flowed softly" in the pretty rose-covered cottage to which, as a curate, Mr. Worthington had taken his bride. " Mother," Winifred said, "are we to wait dinner for father ? The children are hungry." " No, dear ; you had better order it to be brought up. Your father did not say he should return for certain in the middle of the day, and the train must be in." "Oh, yes ; it is due at 12.40, and it is now half past one. Is anything the matter, mother ? " " Nothing new, Winifred ; only the old story, which must always be new and old — difficulty and trouble."

" About money, you mean ? " " Yes ; but I do not want to weigh down your young shoulders with my cares." " Why not, mother ? I would go out as a lady help to-morrow. I am not sufficiently well edu cated for a governess. Kington is not a place where there are any advantages." " I know it, dear, — I know it ; but it is no use talking about it." " I wish you would talk to me more, mother. I am a woman now, and surely I could sympathize, if I could do nothing else." " You are a great help, Winifred. What should I do without you ? " But Winifred was not satisfied. " I could help much more if I knew all. Is it Charlie again ? Is it " Mrs. Worthington avoided an answer. " Then," said Winifred, taking silence for assent — "then I think it is shameful. He has quite enough salary to pay his way, and it is too bad that he should come to you, to pay his bills."

" You are always hard on Charlie, Winifred ; but let us come to dinner." Then the mass of papers were pushed into the drawer of the writing-table, the key turned in the lock, and Mrs. Worthington followed Winifred to the dining-room. Everything was very shabby in Kington-on-Bream Rectory. The wear and tear of twenty years had told upon the chairs and the carpets. Eight pairs of young feet had scampered up and down the narrow staircase. Eight pairs of small hands had indulged in sundry pencil-marks, and had notched bits out of the legs of the tables, and had, in short, done many deeds of violence, in which well-regulated families do not as a rule indulge. Mrs. Worthington sat down to the table with a troubled, anxious face. Winifred took her father's place, and said grace. KING TON- ON-BREA M. 13 Kathleen, the next sister to Winifred, was read ing in an old leathern arm-chair by the fire, for the January day was bitterly cold, and Kathleen loved warmth.

" Come, Kathleen ! " Winifred said sharply. Kathleen, hearing her name, awoke as from a dream, and leaving the book face downward on the chair, came to her place slowly and languidly. Two little girls of eight and ten were on either side of their mother. A small boy — " the baby " — was next Winifred, and the two Kington Gram mar School boys, with ravenous appetites, made up the family party. Charlie, who came between Winifred and Kathleen, was in a large merchant's office in Liverpool, and was the only one of the Worthingtons absent, except the Rector, who had gone for two days to the cathedral town of Brychester, to attend a diocesan conference, and to be the guest of the Archdeacon. Presently Winifred said, — " Did father know the living of Bishop's Cran worth was vacant ? It is in the Kington Gazette to-day."

" He will see it in the papers, I dare say," Mrs. Worthington said indifferently. " It is in Lord Cranworth's gift," Winifred said. " Well, what difference can that make ? Lord Cranworth has long ceased to take any notice of your father. The past is forgotten." " What had father to do with Lord Cranworth, mother ? " asked Hal, the youngest Grammar School boy. " Your grandfather was his private tutor fifty years ago." " I shall be private tutor to a nobleman, I think," said Paul ; " that is to say, when I have taken my degree." " Your degree ! " exclaimed Kathleen, with more interest than she usually showed about her brothers' concerns. " How are you to get to Oxford ? Though I know the boys have everything and the girls nothing in this family." " I shall get to Oxford with the Shaw scholarship," said Paul decidedly.

" And take first class in ' Mods.' and the Final Schools, I suppose." Paul nodded. " Who is to prevent me ? ' Paul had a resolute, almost stern face, unusual in a boy of sixteen. He was one of those dogged, persevering workers who carry all before them by the sheer force of will. Indeed it may be said that the mental force of the eight children lay between Paul and Winifred. Charlie had the fatal KINGTON-ON-BREAM. 15 gift of easy good-temper and infirmity of purpose, which brought him and those connected with him into trouble. Hal was like him, and would be " a second Charlie," Winifred prophesied. The two little girls, Ruth and Rhoda, commonly called the " two R's," were inseparable ; and the weaker, who was the elder, took the colour of Rhoda, who was the stronger and the younger. Then there was Baby, the king of all hearts, one of those blue-eyed, Saxon-haired boys who invariably rule by their peculiar fascination and engaging ways, — tyrants indeed, but binding their votaries with silken cords.

When the schoolboys were gone, Winifred said, — " It is your turn to walk with the children to-day, Kathleen. Are you not going to get ready ? " " I shall be ready as soon as they are," Kathleen said, making no attempt to leave the old chair, into which she had again leaned back with her book. " It makes the children cross to keep them waiting," Winifred said again, as Kathleen still sat with her book. " I am going to finish this chapter," she said, in a provokingly indifferent tone. " I am going to please myself," Winifred said, in a low voice which reached Kathleen's ear, and had the effect of sending her out of the room at last, sharply banging the door as she went. Baby always stayed till he was summoned by the old nurse to get ready for a walk. He was in a meditative mood to-day, and did not attempt to get down from his high chair, but leaned back, surveying the empty plates and dishes, at last saying, — " I wish it was Sunday."

" Why do you wish it was Sunday, Sinbad ? " Now Baby's real name was Francis Ambrose Worthington ; but from the proud moment, now some months ago, when he had donned his sailor suit for the first time, Baby was called Sinbad. In answer to Winifred's question, Baby turned his blue eyes, shaded with long lashes, towards Winifred, and said, in a confidential whisper, — " Because we have oranges, Sundays." " I think there is an orange on the side board," Mrs. Worthington said. " Get it for him, Winifred." " I shall divide it with the two R's," Winifred said, " if there is only one." But all thoughts of the orange were driven away by the rapid passing by the window of a little telegraph boy. KINGTON-ONBREAM. 17 Winifred watched breathlessly. Was the tele gram for them ? Yes. There was a sharp ring, and Ruth and Rhoda, who had been waiting for Kathleen in the hall, rushed in with the well-known orange-coloured envelope.

Mrs. Worthington put her hand to her side. " Open it, Winifred ; I can't. Is it from, or about, Charlie ? " " It is from father. Oh, mother ! such news ! — ' Lord Cranworth has offered me the living of Bishop's Cranworth. I go to the Castle to-night — return to-morrow.'" How strangely near are the fountains of joy and sorrow ! " The living of Bishop's Cranworth ! Can it be true ? " Mrs. Worthington exclaimed. "Yes, dear mother; read it for yourself. Oh, mother ! " for Mrs. Worthington, who had been over-wrought and anxious all day, burst into a fit of weeping. Ruth and Rhoda caught the news, and flew with it to Kathleen, who was coming down-stairs at a leisurely pace. Nurse — or Nana as she was called in the house — coming in for her Baby, heard it also. Like an electric shock it went through the house B But Sinbad was clinging to his mother's neck, and telling her not to mind what naughty people said ; for poor Sinbad naturally concluded it must be very bad news.

" Oh, my Baby ! " Mrs. Worthington struggled to say ; " it is good people, who have given father a beautiful living." "Yes, yes; but run away, children," Winifred said, "and you, mother, come into the drawing room. The fire here is so low. Come, mother," she said cheerfully, " the bright days are coming." Mrs. Worthington turned and kissed Winifred. " I am very ungrateful, very thankless, Winifred. I am ashamed of myself. I have been so terribly perplexed all the morning, and now — now there is a prospect of relief, I am quite unnerved. It has been such a long strain — such a long struggle, Winifred." " I know it, mother — I know it ; and now there shall be rest for you, if for no one else." "Get the Clergy List, and find the value of the living. I think it is eight hundred a year." Winifred went to the library and looked up the value of the living of Bishop's Cranworth Patron : The Earl Cranworth, of Castle Cranworth.

Yes ; it was even more than her mother thought : it was £850 a year, with a house. KING TON- ON- B RE A M. 19 It was a change aster Kington-on-Bream, value a year, without a house. It seemed hard to realize. " And it is such a beautiful place," Mrs. Worth ington said. " I was there once, before I married. The castle stands above the village, and is a grand old house. The church and rectory are just out side the park-gates ; and then it is not more than ten miles from Brychester. I dare say there is a branch line now, if not a coach or omnibus. But oh ! Winifred, think of the removal — the leaving all the people here — and then the expense of furnishing, and the difficulties about what money may be owing here ! The tradespeople are very considerate, but " Winifred saw that her mother was turning to the dark side of the picture again, and hastened to say,— " When once the removal is over, we shall get on very well.

Take heart, mother ; and now, while you rest, I think I shall go out and see two of the old people in the almshouse. Now take a nice story-book, or a Christmas number of something or other, and read yourself to sleep. Stories are so useful as sedatives ! " B

Chapter II Prospects Inifred

was soon ready for her walk She was strong and vigorous, tall and stately ; but though her admirers called her a fine young woman, others suggested she was on too large a scale. The January afternoon was cold, — the sky had cleared as the sun was sinking in the west, and a sharp frost had set in. The ground was hard as iron, and Winifred's quick, light steps soon carried her along the banks of the Bream, to the almshouse. Her presence was always welcome to the old people. " She brings a smile with her that warms one's heart," they would say. " And there's no pride in her ; she is too good to be proud." Having satisfied herself as to the condition of PROSPECTS. 21 two of the old people who had been ill, Winifred retraced her steps, and crossing an old stone bridge, went along the other side of the Bream till she came to a red brick house, standing in its own garden, where some of her friends lived.

There was not much choice of friends at King ton-on-Bream. The circle was narrow, and those engaged in the trade of the place were the rich people. Those who had any pretensions to superi ority were the poorest, as a rule. Doctors and lawyers must be everywhere, and Kington had its full share of those indispensable people. For that time will be slow in coming when there are no broken bones to set and no fevers and inflammation of the lungs to grapple with ; no legal questions to be settled ; no quarrels which must be decided by the verdict of a jury in a Nisi Prius court ; no wills to be made or disputed ; no marriage settle ments to be drawn out. The red house at which Winifred stopped was considered one of the most aristocratic dwellings in Kington. It had a tennis court at the side and a flower garden in front : and Mrs. Bolton, who lived there, was the widow of the younger son of a baronet — so that Kington regarded her with favour and sought her good-will.

For the little Kingtons of the world are like the large Brychesters. There are always people everywhere, who persist in valuing their neighbours for what they have, and for shadowy connections with titles, rather than for what they are. Winifred Worthington was certainly not one of those misguided folks. Her friendship with the Boltons was of long standing, and placed on firmer foundation than those of the aspiring people, who think the hem of the garments of those they regard as their " superiors " and " worth cultivating " may be useful in dragging them a step higher up the social ladder ! Winifred had not to wait at the door a moment ; it was opened by a girl of her own age, who ex claimed, — " Come in, Winifred. How glad I am to see you ! Mother is gone out with Stephen, to please him, not herself.

I think he wanted to make her call at the Rectory. If he had such a visit in view, won't he be disappointed ! " " Maude," Winifred said, " I have got some news to tell you." "Not that you are going to be married? not that you are thinking of " " Nonsense ! Just as if all news meant that sort of news. No; it is that Lord Cranworth has given my father the living of Bishop's Cranworth." PROSPECTS. 23 "Oh, Winifred!" Maude said. " Then— then you will go away. Oh, what news ! I ought to be glad ; but I can't be glad." " If you love me, you will be glad. The pinch ing and trouble about money increases with us ; we are crippled in every way. We cannot do half that ought to be done with the poor, and I believe, if it had gone on much longer, my mother would have quite broken down." Maude had seated herself on a footstool before the fire, and looked straight into it.

But the tears blinded her, and she could only see a blurred mass of flames, all indistinct and visionary. Winifred leaned over her and put her arm round her neck. " We can love each other just the same," she said ; " and you will come and see us, and we shall be very happy when you do." " When I come ! " Maude exclaimed, in a de spairing tone. "That when is far off; but I am horribly selfish. I will be glad for your sake." " There are two sides to every picture," Winifred said. " It is pain to think of leaving poor old Kington. All the people know us, and we have had great kindness here. We are going to a strange village, within ten miles of Brychester, and under the shadow of the Castle. I dread that part of it. It will be bad for Kathleen if there are any daughters at the Castle. She is sure " But Winifred broke off abruptly, and went to the window.

The path by the river on the opposite side was visible, and surely she was not mistaken. There were the "two R's" walking together far in front of two loitering people — Kathleen and a young man, who had made his friendship with Charlie the excuse for coming to the Rectory, and paying attentions to Kathleen. He had tried Winifred first, but met with so decided a repulse that he had desisted, and turned his easily diverted attentions in another direction. Maude followed the glance of Winifred's eyes and said, — " Stephen does not like Horace Crosse. He says he is so idle and lounges about, screwing every penny he can out of his aunt, who is so foolish she would let him have the moon, if he asked for it." " I am dreadfully sorry to see Kathleen walking with him, or, rather, allowing him to walk with her.

The children might fall into the river, or a hundred things might happen. I think I must speak to her again. But she resents anything I say, and is angry at the least provocation." " You are far too kind to Kathleen. You should PROSPECTS. 25 hear Stephen on the subject. Why should you give up everything to her ? You are the eldest of the whole family, and ought to be treated with respect." Winifred laughed. " Respect ! I certainly do not win respect. The children are good, — that is, the boys ; but Rhoda will be as pert as possible if I give her the least encouragement." " Well," Maude said cheerfully, " brighter days are coming for you. You will be able to have a governess, or send the children to school ; and then you will have nice neighbours at the Castle." " I dread that part of it. We shall be patron ized and expected to do exactly as they like.

I don't know what the ' they ' consists of." " I have heard Uncle Gerald talk about Cran worth Castle, and I think the old earl is a widower and has two daughters. If so, they will be old maids." " And sure to interfere as well as patronize. That is not a pleasant prospect. You see, we have not been used to that here." " No, indeed," Maude said earnestly. " Every one has looked on you all as people above the rest. I am sure every one loves you, and I don't know what will become of the place without you." " Changes are often for the better, and I think father has gone on so long in this groove with a disappointed feeling that he ought to have pro motion, and that he was fitted to fill a higher place in the Church ; so, perhaps better times are coming for Kington, as well as for us. We have not moved with the times.

There ought to be more done in the parish ; but we have been so terribly hampered for money." Maude had never known what the want of this very important factor in life meant. She had lived with a mother who, having ample means for her position in life, never talked of, or I may say thought of, expense. Mrs. Bolton was not extra vagant, but she spent her income liberally. A tour every year, or a month on the Devonshire moors, with a few weeks in London, came naturally into her life, just as they were unattainable to many of her acquaintances. Stephen had taken his degree at Oxford, but he had no very definite plans for the future. His mother did not hasten him to any decision. There was no need to do so, and she was well contented to keep him with her, till he expressed some definite wish about his pro fession ; and this he had not as yet done.

Chapter III. Brothers And Sisters

s Winifred was leaving the house she met Mrs. Bolton and Stephen. They looked the comfortable, well-to-do, and perfectly well satisfied mother and son which they undoubtedly were. Mrs. Bolton's beautiful plush mantle, with its deep border of sable, and her fashionable bonnet, tied under her chin with velvet strings, were very becoming. She had rather a loud voice, and greeted Wini fred from a little distance : — " Well, my dear, we have called at the Rectory and heard the good news. It is good news ; let me give you a kiss of congratulation. Now come back to tea." "Thanks very much, Mrs. Bolton," Winifred said. " Maude has given me tea, and I must make haste home. It is getting dark." " My dear, I am delighted," Mrs. Bolton said. " Of course we Kington people are the losers, but we must not be selfish."

" I should think we are the losers," Stephen said sharply. " If you really must go, Miss Worth ington, let me walk home with you." " Oh, no, thanks. Besides, I have a poor child to see as I return— a grandchild of old Betty Carr, in the almshouse. Good-bye." " Well, good-bye," exclaimed Mrs. Bolton, in the same ringing voice. " I am sure this change will add years to your poor mother's life. It has been such a struggle for her ! " Yes, it had been a struggle ; but Winifred did not quite like to hear it openly proclaimed to the servant who stood at the door, and to the gar dener's boy, who was scattering sawdust on the paths, which were coated with ice. " I must not keep you standing in the cold, my dear," and the velvet and sables disappeared within the house, while Winifred's swift steps had carried her already some way towards the town.

She stopped at the cottage where the little grandchild of old Betty Carr had scalded herself by pulling the saucepan of broth over her, in attempting with her puny strength to lift it from the fire. It was not a very serious scald, but the mother, a poor slatternly woman, made the worst of it, and whined about her poverty, and hoped Miss Worthington would remember her, with the added expense of illness. Winifred gave out the last shilling from her slenderly stocked purse, and having skilfully ban daged the child's arm, and excluded the air with cotton wool, she told the mother not to remove it till she came again. Mrs. Carr was not very grateful, and said, " Good evening, miss," in a deplorable voice, and added, " the hard winter was starvation to poor folks." Winifred was glad to turn away.

A sense of her own incapacity to meet the needs of the people often oppressed her, and she knew so much more ought to be done, not by the encouragement of begging, like Mrs. Carr's, but by well-organized efforts in the establishment of coffee-houses and the remodelling the clothing and coal clubs, which were on a very old-fashioned basis. When she turned out of the narrow court between two rows of houses, she saw a tall figure awaiting her, and Stephen Bolton said, — " I tried to overtake you, but you were too quick for me. I say, this is very bad news for us ! " "What news?" Winifred tried to ask indif ferently. "Oh, you mean our promotion to Cranworth. I think it is good news." " For you I suppose it is, but not for us, and not for me!' " You can come and see us, with Maude, when we are settled," Winifred said, still in the same indifferent tone.

" That will not be the same thing at all," he said, " and you must know it." " But I suppose," Winifred went on, keeping up her swift pace, which was not altogether favourable to sentiment — " I suppose you will soon be leaving Kington, so it will make less difference to you now " " What do you mean ? " he asked, rather sharply. " I mean, of course, you are going to settle on a profession, and not live here and do nothing much longer. Are you not going to read for the bar or the church ? " " Decidedly not the last," Stephen said ; "and I don't know that I care about the first. There is no hurry, unless you will choose for me, and say that if I succeed and work, you will give me my reward." But Winifred evaded a direct reply, and said, " You ought to be working at something. A man with no profession is so sorely to be pitied."