Dorothy's Daughters

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DOROTHY'S DAUGHTERS. " Violet had her arms round her mother as she sat in an arm-chair." — Page 21. DOROTHY'S DAUGHTERS. BV EMMA MARSHALL, AUTHOR OF "LIFE'S AFTERMATH," "MRS. MAIN' WARING's JOURNAL," ETC. " Sweetly and statelily And with all grace of womanhood." Tennyson. " Happy he With such a mother! faith in womankind Beats with his blood— and trust in all things high Comes easy to him." The Princess. SEELEY, JACKSON, & HALLIDAY, 54, FLEET STREET, LONDON. MDCCCLXXXI. The Right of Translation is Reserved. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. MADGE ------ I II. MAX ------ 24 III. THE DINNER ----- 6l IV. A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT - - - 90 V. CLOSER FRIENDSHIP - - - IIj VI. KENTON'S mission - - - - 144 VII. AN OLD STORY - - - - - 1 70 VIII. THE MESSENGER - - - - 1 99 IX. WHAT A YEAR BROUGHT FORTH - - 228 X. THE COTTAGE ----- 254 XI. THE PROPOSAL DEFERRED - - - 28 1 XII. GOLDEN DAYS ----- 306 XIII. SIR HENRY'S ILLNESS - - - - 323 XIV. THE HEIR IN POSSESSION ...

Chapter I. Madge

' We have no new experiences ; it is always the new people who go through the old ones.' — Rahel von Ensc. ' Well, if we are to call upon them at all, it must be done at once. I knew her when I was a girl, and there is just enough family connection to make it marked if we don't call. Dorothy Singleton may be a year or two my senior, but we were young together, and I cannot live so near her without calling upon her. It can end there if you find the girls obtrusive, but we are too far out of Fordham to feel it, if they are inclined to be pushing. Don't you think I ought to call, Kenton ?' The young man thus addressed looked up from the morning paper, and said : I ' Call ! on whom ? I beg your pardon, but I was not listening.' ' It is the Singletons again, Ken. Mother cannot leave them alone.

I really do not see why we should bother ourselves about our hundred and fiftieth cousins, especially when they live in Rodney Street, and would far rather we left them in peace, I dare say. Besides, Mother, you always say you don't call on people in Fordham. Why begin now ? Leave Mrs. Singleton and her three daughters to take care of the poor, and take tea with the curate ; that is more in their line.' ' My dear Madge, I never expect you to take any trouble for anyone. I have given up all idea that you would put yourself out of the way to please me,' was the reply. ' Now, Mother, it would not please you to go and call on the Singletons. You' would not have thought of it if Lady Coninghame had not asked you about them in that letter yesterday, and you know you think it is a bother. I am going to ride this morning, Ken ; will you come ?

What time will suit you ?' * Twelve o'clock,' he said. ' It is nearly eleven now, and I have to write some letters. I will be ready at twelve.' MADGE. 3 He rose to open the door for his sister. As she passed him she whispered : ' Extinguish the Singleton idea, Ken : it will be a dreadful bore — just the people I should hate.' Kenton Bromhead shrugged his shoulders, and then, at a call from Mrs. Bromhead, went back to the breakfast-table. ' You know who I mean by the Singletons, Kenton,' she said. ' Dorothy was the only child of poor old Canon Scobell, who was the Rector of my father's parish. My poor father was his cousin, and got the living for him. Dorothy married before I did, and went out to India. Her husband was in the civil service, and died when comparatively young. Then she came home and afterwards lived in Germany, where the girls and the one boy were educated.

They have been living in Fordham for some months, but I did not call on them before I went to London, and I have put it off so long, I feel half ashamed to do so now. Madge is so odd ; if she takes a thing into her head no one can shake it out, and she calls the Singletons " dowdys," and " stupid," and " blue," and all that kind of thing. Really,' said Mrs. Bromhead, pathetically, ' girls in these days are most trying An only daughter ought to be such a comfort to a mother, and I cannot say I find Madge a comfort to me.' i — ' Madge is spoiled,' said Kenton, suddenly. ' She is very pretty, and she has been told so. She is sharp and clever, and she has heard that too often. In fact,' he said, ' she has been made too much of, and has got some absurd notions into her head. You must excuse me, but I think it is out of the question for you to consult her, about calling •on these people, for instance.

A girl of nineteen should do as you tell her.' Now Mrs. Bromhead stood somewhat, or, I should say, very much in awe of her step-son, Mr. Bromhead's son by his first wife ; and he often ex pressed himself freely, as no one else dared to do, on the subject of Madge. Mr. Bromhead was a gouty invalid, who lived very much in his library and bedroom, and perhaps did not receive any great amount of attention from his wife and daughter. ' Poor papa is a dreadful invalid,' Madge would say, ' but he likes us to enjoy ourselves, and so does Ken.' Kenton Bromhead was a barrister, and often absent on circuit, or in his chambers in London ; but he frequently came down, all unawares, to Cressingham, and when he was there was deferred to as the master of the house. Mr. Kenton was regarded as the recognised MADGE. 5 authority by the servants, and any question of im portance in the stables or the garden was referred to him, while Mrs. Bromhead consulted him on social matters, as we have seen. ' Yes,' Mrs. Bromhead said, with a sigh, ' girls of nineteen ought to do as their parents wish ; but few mothers find it easy to manage them.

How ever, I shall go to the Singletons this very after noon, and I hope I shall find them at home, poor things ! One ought to feel for people who are con demned to live in a street in a provincial town. How do you think your father is, Kenton ?' ' He was in a good deal of pain last night ; but, on the whole, better than the last time I was here. I am staying over Sunday,' he added, ' and I have asked a friend of mine here on Saturday. You have heard me mention him I dare say. He is a cousin of Sir Henry Fairfax, at Salcombe. I thought I would ask Sir Henry to dinner on Satur day evening, to meet him.' ' Oh ! I shall be delighted. Is there any lady you wish me to ask ?' ' I leave the ladies to you,' said Kenton, gaily. ' One of the Miss Singletons, perhaps !' and laugh ing, he left the room.

Madge and her brother rode down the drive together about twelve o'clock, on two well-bred, pretty horses, which they managed with perfect ease. Kenton did not seem inclined to talk at first, and Madge, finding her efforts at conversation but faintly responded to,hummed snatchesof songs as they went through the bowery lanes, where the dew was yet sparkling on the crimson leaves of the maples and hanging in diamond wreaths on the gossamer threads stretching across the long sprays of the briony. The autumn morning was bright with the sub dued and chastened light of the waning year, and so calm that every step of the horses' hoofs sounded on the loose soil of the Somersetshire lane. When they came into the open, a wide expanse of down stretched before them, from whence there was a view of the sea at some ten miles' distance, of a grand coast-line of North Devon cliffs in the direc tion of Lynton, and inland the spire and tower of Fordham Abbey deep in the valley, out of which the lane had gently led them. ' Now for a canter, Madge,' Kenton said, giving a quick glance at her horse's reins and saddle. ' Keep her head well to the right, the ground is so broken towards Parker's Hole.' They were off now at a swift, even pace, the breeze heightening the colour in Madge's cheek and playing with a long tress of golden-brown hair MADGE, 7 which had escaped from under her hat.

There are so many different opinions about beauty, and the point of vision differs so much in different people, that I am afraid to dogmatise in this matter. But, undoubtedly, Magdalene Bromhead would lay claim to be thought beautiful by many people. Her hair, which was abundant, was cut low on her forehead, and lay there in a mass of curls and waves, which might or might not be natural. From under this, a pair of very bright expressive eyes looked out upon the world, and rosy lips parted to display a set of white teeth when she smiled. Madge did not always smile, and there were times when the corners of those rosy lips had a downward droop, and the finely-cut nostrils above them a somewhat scornful curve. But that was when Madge was not pleased, — when, as she expressed it, ' things went wrong, and everyone conspired to help them to do so.' This morning, however, she was all smiles and good temper.

A ride with Kenton was always a pleasure, and when he was in a ' good mood ' there were few things that she liked better. The horses were reined in after a time, and they rode gently towards the other side of the down. ' You are taking the round by Salcombe, then ?' Madge said. ' Yes. If I happen to meet Sir Henry Fairfax it will save the trouble of writing a note. I want him to dine and sleep at Cressingham on Saturday, to meet Maxwell Fairfax, who is coming for Sunday.' ' That is your particular friend, is it not, Kenton ?' ' Yes,' said her brother, ' my very particular friend I am proud to say.' ' What is he ? I mean, what does he do ?; ' He is in a lawyer's office in Lincoln's Inn, working for his living.' 'Oh,' said Madge, 'is that all? I don't like lawyers : and besides, are they not always, — rather, I mean people don't care much about lawyers' clerks.' Kenton laughed, his low satirical laugh, which Madge never liked to hear. ' I care very much for this particular lawyer's clerk,' said Kenton. ' Maxwell Fairfax is about one of the best fellows that ever lived, and I owe him a good deal.' ' You !

Why, Kenton, I thought barristers always took a very superior position to lawyers, attorneys, or solicitors.' ' You are not always right in your thoughts ; but it would take too long now to tell you what sort of debt mine is to Max. It's the sort of debt a blind man owes to a great oculist who makes him see the MADGE. 9 light of heaven again after years of darkness ; or like the debt of one man to another who pulls him out of a dreary mine, where he has been shut up in the dark for many days. Now there is the very person I wanted, I declare ; that is fortunate.' And as he spoke they came upon a young man in a shooting-coat and knickerbockers, who had a game-bag slung over his shoulder, and his gun in his hand. ' Lie down Vixen !' he called to his dog, as Madge's horse curvetted and pranced a little as the dog bounded towards them. ' Good-morning,' Sir Henry Fairfax said, raising his hat. ' I am glad I met you !' Kenton exclaimed. ' I hope you can come in to dinner on Saturday, at seven o'clock, and stay till Monday.' ' Thanks ; yes !

I shall be very glad ; it is awfully dull down there,' pointing to the drive which led to Salcombe. ' However, you know something of invalids, Miss Bromhead. I wonder how you con trive to look so brilliant and as if nothing could depress you. I can't stand it. As soon as I have had a little shooting I shall be off again, to the other end of the world. What are you going to do, Brom head ? This is not the time of year for work, even for you.' ' My time for work is all the year round,' Kenton said. ' I have a good many irons in the fire. Max well Fairfax will be with us on Saturday.' ' Oh, poor fellow ! that's kind of you to give him a breath of fresh air. I can't act the good relation to him if I wished, and I don't know that I do wish. Hasn't he taken up some queer notions ? Something like my mother's and aunt's, eh ?' ' I am not answerable for Lady Fairfax's notions, or Miss Susan's either,' Kenton said ; ' but it would be a fine thing for us all if we had notions like Maxwell's.' 'Well, don't set him up to preach at me on Saturday, or I shall have a fit of indigestion, mind/ ' Hallo !' and in a moment Kenton was off his horse and had leaped over a hedge into an adjoin ing field. ' What is it ?' said Sir Henry, who being on foot, and having taken the reins of Kenton's horse, could not see over the high hedge. ' What are they yelling for ?' For a scream of terror and the barking of a dog now rang through the still autumn air, and Madge from her horse could discern the figures of two girls running with wonderful swift ness towards a gate at the farther end of the field, while a bull was in hot pursuit from an opposite direction. 'It is a bull running at two girls,' said Madge, MADGE, 11 from her post of observation. ' Oh !

I hope Kenton won't be hurt ; he has turned it now. No, the bull has turned on him. Oh, Sir Henry ! pray give me the reins and go, pray do. Oh, Kenton ! and he is not running, and there is a dreadful little dog yapping at the bull. Do go !' ' I can't leave you with two horses fidgeting like this,' for Kenton's horse was restless and excited, and Madge's caught the infection. ' You must, you must. Ah ! now he is safe. He only walked up to the bull, and it never touched him, and he has got the dog by the neck. How brave and quiet he was ! Now he has gone to the girls.' ' They ought to be ashamed of themselves,' said Sir Henry, ' for taking a yelping cur through a field where there are cattle. No bull will stand that ; but it is bad management to leave this bull in a field where there are likely to be passers-by.

Just like everything else about our place : it's all going to rack and ruin.' ' There is Kenton waving his hand to me; he wants me to turn and go to the gate of the farther field round the corner ; that is what he means.' ' Then I will lead his horse there. He is quite right not to irritate the bull again with his presence. I will leave my gun and game-bag here, under Vixen's care, and ride with you.' Vixen obeyed his master, and lay down by the bag and gun at a word from him. ' On guard, Vixen,' he said ; and then, springing into the saddle, he rode off with Madge. ' How pretty she is !' he thought. ' If it were not too much trouble I could almost fall in love with her.' Then aloud : ' It's a long time since we met, Miss Bromhead ; not since you came out' ' I dare say not,' Madge said. ' After I left school we were at Homburg with papa, and then at Aix les Bains ; now he has given up trying any thing, and stays at home.

Rheumatic gout is never cured.' ' I wish my poor mother's was rheumatic gout, but it's nothing but nerves. You can't think how horribly quiet our place is. She fidgets if there is a sound, and Aunt Sue is worse. That eternal doctor comes every day, and his bill is enough to frighten anyone, and all for what? — Nerves and religion.' ' Religion !' said Madge, laughing. ' Ah ! it is no laughing matter, I assure you. There's nothing but tracts and sermons in our house, and boxes with little slits in them, where the poor servants are obliged to drop their spare sixpences ; MADGE, 13 and then they wonder a young fellow like me tries to get away, and hates the place.' ' It must be very dull,' said Madge, sympa thetically. ' We are bad enough ; but Mother does see a few people, and Papa is good-natured, and likes me to enjoy myself ; that is why we were in London for six weeks this year.

I really am sorry for you,' she repeated. ' When Kenton is at home you should come and see him oftener.' ' Yes ; but he is so awfully good. Do you know, Miss Bromhead, I am quite afraid of meeting him and Maxwell Fairfax on Saturday. I shall look to you to protect me.' ' Very well,' she said, laughing. ' Oh, here comes Kenton and the two girls. Who can they be ? — Kenton,' she exclaimed, ' I saw it all from my horse. I was so frightened. How coolly you walked up to the bull.' ' These two young ladies had lost their way,' Kenton said, ' and took a short cut over the field with a dog who had not learned manners as regards bulls.' ' No, indeed,' said the younger of the two girls, ' it was very naughty of Puff,' — giving the little shaggy Skye-terrier in her arms a warning pat — ' very naughty, and he must be beaten when we get home.' The elder girl now spoke.

She was still pale and trembling, and her voice faltered as she turned to Kenton. ' Will you please tell us the shortest way to Ford ham ? We are so late as it is, and my mother will be uneasy about us. I don't know how to thank you enough,' she continued, ' but I shall never forget that your courage saved us. The bull ' she stopped. ' Do not go over it again,' Kenton said. ' You look anything but fit to walk four miles into Ford ham ; we are scarcely nearer our house, or I would ask you to come in and rest.' 'Come in to Salcombe,' said Sir Henry, 'and I'll get the dog-cart ready, and drive you in to Ford ham.' ' Oh no, thank you ; we must not stay. I am a very good walker. Is that the road ?' ' Yes,' said Kenton, walking a few steps with her. ' You must keep on straight ahead till you come to the church, and then turn sharp to the left, and you will soon see Fordham Abbey before you.

Before I say good-bye, let me know to whom I have the honour of speaking ?' ' Dora Singleton,' was the reply, ' and this is my sister Violet. Good-bye, and once more, thank you.' ' Who did she say she was, Kenton ? Do tell me.' MADGE, 15 Kenton laughed. ' Your particular aversions have turned up, Madge. Those two pretty girls are your " dowdy " Singletons.' ' Impossible !' Madge exclaimed. ' Well, they are dowdy, and I did not see they were very pretty. I wonder I did not know them again, for they were pointed out to me at a bazaar as the young ladies in grey.' ' I did not see what they wore,' said Kenton : ' I only saw what they were.' ' So stupid to run away from a bull ; and just fancy, having a dog that would not mind when they called it. I have another grudge against them,' Madge said, ' for giving me such a fright about you, Kenton.' * Thanks for your kind consideration for me,' he said, laughing ; ' but really, Sir Henry, you should speak to your bailiff about that bull — a dangerous fellow, and I confess I have no wish to see his fierce eyes glaring at me again.

He ought not to be loose in a field which is a thorough fare.' ' My dear fellow,' said Sir Henry, ' everything is where it ought not to be, and vice versd, at Salcombe. I wish the place were at the bottom of the Red Sea, What's the good of it ? The returns from the estate are less every year. However, I trouble myself as little as I can about anything.' ' Well,' said Madge, ' you have troubled yourself for me, I am sure, to-day ; holding Ken's horse for him, and leaving your game-bag to its fate in the hedge.' Sir Henry's face brightened at this acknowledg ment of what he had done ; and as he patted the arched neck of Madge's horse, he said : ' Vixen will see to my property, and nothing is a trouble that is done for you.' The latter part of the speech was in a lower tone, and only Madge heard it.

Well, good-bye till Saturday then,' said Kenton. This little adventure has made us late, and we must get home as fast as we can.' As they were drawing near Cressingham, Kenton said : ' Go with your mother to call on the Singletons, Madge. They are worth knowing, depend upon it. It is refreshing,' he went on to say, 'to find girls natural in their manners, and simple, and — I know you'll be angry with me now— with smooth shinin° hair, instead of a rough crop.' ' That's a hit at me, Ken, of course ; but I should look a perfect guy dressed like a Quaker, with my wig stretched back and scraped as smooth as a tur- MADGE, 17 nip. Come now, confess, Kenton, that would not be my style.' Kenton looked gravely at his sister. She was so bright and pretty and picturesque he did not wonder that she was satisfied with her own appearance ; and yet it seemed to him that he, as her elder brother, had done hitherto so little for her — treated her too much as a pet and plaything : helped to do what he had accused her mother of doing — spoil her.

It was perhaps one of the things which now he saw, and had not seen before— one of the results of his friendship with the man who had, as he told Madge, lifted the veil from his eyes. All the deep significance of life, all the beauty and glory of that life when hid with Christ in God, all the zest of work which was no longer a dull drudgery, but the out come of a true and loyal devotion to One whose service is freedom — this had come to Kenton of late as a revelation. Just as the beams of the sun bring out the beauty of the mountain and stream which have been lost in the darkness of a long night, so did the light of Him with whom is no darkness at all, bring out the character of Kenton Bromhead, and made him no longer the slave of the low aims of the world, but the champion and defender of all that was pure and lovely and of good report.

In the little house in Rodney Street there was some anxiety that morning at the prolonged absence of Dora and Violet Singleton. The timepiece chimed half-past one, and the neat maid-servant came to inquire if she should take in dinner. ' We will wait another ten minutes,' was Mrs, Singleton's reply. ' I say,' exclaimed a boy of eighteen, ' that is too bad, Mother. I shall be late at the Bank if you wait any longer. It's rather hard on a fellow to have to choke down his dinner because his sisters are late.' ' Very well, then,' said Mrs. Singleton. ' Go down, Maude, and tell Phœbe we are ready.' ' Maude was engrossed in some writing at a little side-table, and moved rather slowly. ' I cannot imagine why they are so late,' Mrs. Singleton said anxiously. ' It is a mistake to take such very long walks, but Violet is so full of enjoyment in the country.

I hope Dora won't be knocked up.' The little bell tingled in the small lobby below, MADGE, 19 and Mrs. Singleton and Guy went down to the dining-room. The mutton cutlets were already a little burned and the vegetables overdone. ' They will be here directly, I dare say,' the mother said. ' But I should like to keep their dinner hot ; so we will send it down to the kitchen, Phœbe.' ' Such nonsense,' said Guy Singleton, gruffly, ' What are they about ?' ' They were going to try to get as far as Cres singham Down,' Maude said. ' If they have done so, no wonder they are late.' ' I hope they may not have fallen into Parker's Hole,' said Guy, who had not forgotten the offence of being kept waiting for his dinner. ' Guy !' exclaimed Maude, reprovingly, ' how can you talk such nonsense !' and she glanced at her mother, who was only, she saw, pretending to eat her dinner.

The cutlets were removed, and the apple-tart was brought, and still no one appeared. At two o'clock Guy went off to the Bank, and Maude and her mother were alone. ' I am so anxious, Maude. What has become of them ?' ' They must have missed their way,' Maude said. 2 — ' But I do wonder that Dora should be so incon siderate as to keep you in anxiety like this.' Mrs. Singleton replied by rising, and going to the dining-room window for the hundredth time. ' How strange it is,' she said, ' that we always look for those we expect ; as if it would bring them any the sooner. But Dora is so punctual and reliable. I think something must be wrong. Is there not a deep chasm on Cressingham Down, Maude?' ' Yes ; but, my dear Mother, people don't walk into holes in the daylight. If it were evening and twilight I should not wonder at your being frightened.' Mrs. Singleton was silent, and stood quietly by the window.

About half-past two the well-known steps were heard on the pavement of the little quiet street, and the two girls looked up and smiled at her. ' Here they are !' she exclaimed, and Maude, who had been reading a book taken from one of the shelves which filled a recess on either side of the fire, sprang towards the door. ' Mother, I am so sorry we are late. Have you been very anxious ? We have so much to tell you,' said Dora. ' Take your hats off, and sit down like reasonable people,' said Maude. ' Your dinner has been kept hot for you, which is more than you deserve.' MADGE. 21 By this time Violet had her arms round her mother as she sat in an arm-chair. ' Have you been frightened, darling Mother ? I am so sorry ; it was all my fault. I wanted to get to the top of Cressingham Down, and made Dora come on.

Then we gathered such heaps of black berries — we must go again with a basket ; and look at all these ferns, Mother ! Then we had a rest, and then we took a wrong turn and a short cut, and were run at by a dreadful bull that wicked little Puff rushed after ; and a man came over the hedge and turned it back. He was on horseback with a pretty girl, and another man was walking by their side.' ' My dear child !' for Violet poured forth this history in a rapid stream, ' you quite bewilder me. Tell me more quietly, Dora.' ' We were very much frightened,' Dora said, ' and we owe a great deal to the courage of the man who turned the bull from following us ; and we ought to be thankful for our preservation.' Dora Singleton spoke quietly and deliberately, but her face was still quivering with emotion.

She was very tired, and after making several attempts to eat her dinner, gave it up in despair, and said : ' Mother, may I go and lie down a little while ?' As she left the room, Maude was following her, when Mrs. Singleton said : 1 No, let me go,' and very soon Dora was lying in her own little bed, with her mother standing over her and bathing her forehead with eau de cologne. ' It was foolish to attempt such an expedition, Mother ; but the child's heart was set on it.' 'We must not treat Violet as an unreasonable child, dear,' Mrs. Singleton said. ' We forget how time passes, and we perhaps keep her too much of a child — and spoil her.' ' No, Mother, nothing would spoil Violet,' Dora said earnestly. ' It was really a great escape to day,' she continued, after a pause. ' We must not forget to give God thanks.