'Bonnie Lesley,' etc

Front matter

■ ■ BONNIE LESLEY, Frontispiece. MR. FIELDING SHOWED HIS SISTER-IN-LAW INTO LESLEY'S TRESENCE. Fage 259. "BONNIE LESLEY" BY Mrs. HERBERT MARTIN, author of 'cast adrift,' etc. Illustrate, bp. fHiss _. ■ To see her is to love her, And love but her for ever ; For nature made her what she is, And ne'er made sic anither.' — Burns. GRIFFITH AND FARRAN, SUCCESSORS TO NEWBERY AND HARRIS, WEST CORNER OF ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. MDCCCLXXVIII. The Rights of Translation and of Reproduction are reserved. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAQE I. WHAT'S TO BE DONE NEXT ? 7 II. HEADS IN COUNCIL, 20 III. A WOMAN OF OUR LATTER DAYS, .... 32 IV. ON THE THRESHOLD OF A NEW LIFE, ... 44 V. POOR AND PROUD, 60 VI. HELEN THORNELY, VII. 'TO SEE HER WAS TO LOVE HER,' . . . . VIII. A FRIENDLY HINT, IX. LESLEY'S FIRST APPEARANCE IN PUBLIC, .

X. TO THE SOUTH COAST XI. AN IMPRUDENT FIT OF TEMPER, . . . . XII. ' 'TIS WELL TO BE OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE,' 'SHE IS A WOMAN, THEREFORE TO BE WON,' XIII. XIV. GLAMOUR, XV. CUT DOWN BEFORE BLOSSOMING XVI. ' NO, IT CANNOT BE,' . . . XVII. GOOD-BYE, Contents. PAGE CHAP. XVIII. WANTED A SECRETARY XIX. QUIET DAYS, XX. DRIFTING, ........ XXI. A REPRESENTATIVE OF MRS. GRUNDY, xxir. Margery's occupation gone, . XXIII. AFTER MANY YEARS, XXIV. 'TWO IS COMPANY, BUT THREE IS TRUMrERY,' XXV. A CHILLING TOUCH OF COMMON SENSE, . . XXVI. A FRIENDSHIP SPOILT, XXVII. THE SECRETARY DISMISSED, XXVIII. A NEW SITUATION, XXIX. LESLEY FIELDING, XXX. A MEET'lNG'OF' OLD FRIENDS, . 'BONNIE LESLEY.'

Chapter I. What's To Be Done

NEXT? There's no friend like a sister In calm or stormy weather. ' C. ROSSETTI. WELL, Margery, what's to be done ? Things are beginning to assume a serious aspect, aren't they ? I know I feel at my wits' end almost ; the problem is too difficult for my poor shallow brain to solve ! ' These words were uttered in a tone half jocular and half bitter ; and the speaker of them was a young woman of four or five and twenty, by name Lesley Blythe, who was sitting with her only sister, one November evening a Cew years ago, in the some what shabbily furnished but cosy drawing-room of Harrowby Vicarage — a home that had been theirs now for sixteen years, but was soon to be their home no more. ' Bonnie Lesley! 8 ' The question is a very prosaic and sordid one, but it must be answered, — how are two badly educated young women, of moderate abilities, no resources, and very few friends, to earn themselves a livelihood in these pushing times, when every one is either born wonderfully clever, it seems, or becomes so by dint of incessant learning, which we never had the power to get?

It is plain enough we can't live upon thirty pounds a year each, and _furfd in hand — no, there isn't that, it has sunk considerably — of a hundred and fifty. It is equally plain that literature is "no go" for me. I have launched half a dozen MSS. boldly into the hands of I won't say how many publishers, and each has come back again at various intervals, like a bad shilling ; with notes, polite or the reverse, but all agreeing on one point, that they have no opening for my literary efforts, and requesting postage stamps to the amount of, etc., when the MS. will be duly returned to its unfortunate owner. " Cast your MSS. on the water, and they will return to you after many days ! " ' ' Lesley ! don't be profane, dear ! ' ' Margery ! I'm in the mood to be anylliing that's bad. What is to be done with you and me ?

Nobody wants us. — Oh, you need not look like that ! I am quite aware of the fact that there is one young man in the world waiting with longing eagerness for the day when he can call you his, but that day seems about as remote as the rest of our chances. You cannot marry on one hundred pounds a year, — at least, if you do, you will repent it in sackcloth and ashes ; and I see no prospect of Frank getting ? 9 anything else. Have you any plan in your Iiead, Margery ? ' ' No, dear ; no definite one. I am afraid we do not know enough to be governesses.' ' My good girl, that question is finally settled. Haven't we tried ? Haven't we inquired, answered advertisements, done everything ? People do not see the good of engaging a young person who could possibly read and translate a page of Telemaque with a vile accent, but who can't speak a word of colloquial French ; who is profoundly ignorant of German, Latin, astronomy, science, and drawing ; who can play an Irish jig, and sing a ballad, just add up a column of accounts, and whose only other accomplish ment is writing a good hand, and Who has read a good deal of desultory, old-fashioned, miscellaneous English ; — of course I am describing myself, but 1 am afraid that you are not much more learned.

Well, I do not blame mothers who consider this education inadequate for their children — mothers, I mean, of the upper middle class. I daresay we might do for a tradesman's family ; but the worst of that is, we are rather proud if we are poor, were brought up ladies, and have lived among gentle people. It is no gopfi pretending, Margery ; it may be wicked, but indeed I do feel tempted tq blame our poor father for not having prepared tfs better for an inevitable future, only I cannot bear to. do so.' And Lesley, who was sitting on a low stool in front of the fire, dropped her head upon her sister's lap, and a sad silence fell between them. A few hot tears had made their reluctant way into her eyes. Lesley hated crying, ' Bonnie Lesley! 10 but she had excuses for it ; the struggle before them seemed a hard one, and their reverses lately had been bitter.

Within the last few months, Margery and Lesley Blythe had been left to fight the battle of life for themselves, and with but a slender store of arms. Three months ago their father died, — the Rev. Henry Willoughby Blythe, Vicar of Harrowby in the county of Gloucester ; an indolent, good-tempered, ease loving Irishman ; self-indulgent in everything, and managing to secure for himself the largest amount of comfort in life consistent with a kind heart and some what weak head. He never looked beyond the day. The only precepts in the New Testament which really appealed to him forcibly were those which he construed into rebuke of foresight and caution. He had the text, ' Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,' emblazoned and hanging over the chimney piece in his room. What he called faith, other people called folly ; and it bore cruel fruit to his girls, after he was gone from a world where he scarcely knew the feeling of heartache.

When he died — as painlessly as he had lived — the daughters, who had been brought up in an easy school, surrounded by careless comfort, and who had never in their lives felt the pinch of poverty, scarcely even had a desire that had not been gratified, found themselves not literally penniless, but very nearly so, and about as destitute in real friends as two popular girls can be. Relations they had none near enough to be in any way dependable. They had been educated in the most scanty and erratic fashion, — running wild till ? 11 they were well in their teens ; then, on the strenuous remonstrances of old Lady Pennington, who was a distant cousin of their mother, and chief parishioner of Mr. Blythe's, they had had an inferior governess for a few years, who afforded them great amusement but very little instruction.

They were sent one year ' to finish ' at school, but were removed on the death of their mother, who had been an invalid for years ; and the elder daughter, Margery, was promoted to the post of housekeeper to her father at the age of sixteen. She was now seven-and-twenty, but had such an unconquerable youthfulness of appearance, she was generally thought to be younger than her sister. She had that soft, hopeful temperament that sees brightness everywhere, even where to others everything is gloom. She could not believe that others were not as good as herself, and her tender heart and easily awakened sympathies created good ness and kindliness in those with whom she had to deal. Margery was not exactly pretty, but no one wished her anything but what she was ; she was one of those women that no one cares to criticise, because their appearance is entirely harmonious and satis factory.

Her soft fair hair, and clear grey eyes, and smooth delicate skin were the only really pretty things about her ; but her figure was light and graceful, her dresses always fitted to an exquisite nicety, her move ments were pleasant and quiet, a sort of calm repose in all her ways, and her voice was soft, clear, and particularly winning. Her half-appealing tone and manner of speaking gave somewhat awrasPgimpression of her character, however, for Margery was really self- ' Bonnie Lesley.' reliant, and had sound good sense and a clear judg ment in spite of all her feminine submission to authority. She was one of those women born to love and to be loved — not a complex or elaborate character, but simply satisfying and soothing; — such a one as most of us know, and have in some corner of our hearts, and without whom our England would cease to be England.

Of course, Margery, from the very fitness of things, had a lover. She had, indeed, had more than one very sincere admirer, but for four years before the time I speak of, she had remained constant to her first choice. Unfortunately, the man who had won her heart, and given her his in return, was only a curate receiving eighty pounds a year, and without apparent prospect of anything better. He "was an lionest, truthful, manly, kind-hearted fellow;— faithful, loyal, and devoted ; but all this seemed to signify little, since he could not offer his Margery the home she needed. If only a couple could start on goodness, Frank Owen and Margery would have had a grand capital ; but, alas! there is no marketable equivalent for truth, honesty, and kindliness. They will not fur nish the house, pay the weekly bills, nor provide the thousand and one wants of civilisation.

So Frank still sighed for Margery ; and she, resolutely deter mining not to sigh, persisted in clinging to him, and hoping against hope for a day to bring the long waiting to fruition, with a calm self-restraint that kept both pity and reproach alike at a distance. Lesley was as' Unlike her elder sister as sisters well can be when both are warm-hearted and pure-minded. She was tall, large, and handsome, with a regular Milesian face ; the true Irish grey eyes, — arch, soft, and winning, — deeply fringed with dark lashes, and with straight, low brows, and pupils intensely black and large. Lesley's eyes were perfect. Her hair was red-brown, rough, and picturesquely curly ; the forehead very broad and low; nose and mouth irregu lar enough, but not in any way unpleasing ; a full, dimpled chin, rather prominent and marked in its character ; and a complexion which not even reckless exposure to sun and air could ever make coarse.

This is Lesley's portrait, as well as pen and ink can draw it, — ' Bonnie Lesley,' as her sister liked to call her. These two had always been all the world to each other. Their weak, foolish father they had united in petting ; and, reversing the general order, they had looked after and cared for him, instead of he for them. A sort of don camaraderie had existed between him and his daughters, but nothing more. It was impossible to love very deeply what they could not respect. They saw how he shirked his duties ; his laziness, self-indulgence, the want of depth of purpose and trustworthiness in him— they were too clear-sighted not to see it. It would have provoked them in any one else ; in their father they tolerated it good-humouredly, and agreed in not expecting papa to do things that were in the least difficult or troublesome.

Frank Owen and Margery managed the parish between them, till he took the curacy of a neighbour ing place. Lesley, who had no aptitude for parish work, looked after her father at home ; and when she ' Bonnie Lesley! 14 had not any employment in the house, found herself as many interests and amusements outside it as an energetic and vigorous nature demanded. Lesley was not perfect. Left very much to herself, and with a frank, light-hearted, impulsive nature, fond of society and of excitement, it is not much wonder that she was sometimes addicted to flirtation. It was harmless enough, though ; Lesley was not in the least fast, and her disposition was too honest and open to allow her to indulge in a dangerous sort of coquetry. She liked the society of men, she enjoyed admiration and repartee ; but, after all, it was not a necessity to her.

She could be quite as full of fun in a party of girls only, as when surrounded by half-a-dozen admirers. She was fond of power, but was more inclined to play with tenderer emotions than to yield to them. At twenty-four she was absolutely ' fancy free,' — not one of her flirtations had left even a scar upon her heart ; and in the dreary months following her father's death, all foolish coquetries were crowded out of her life by stern realities, pressing, for the first time, hardly enough upon these two solitary girls. Lesley was a good while silent, with her head on her sister's lap ; she was in a deep reverie. 'I wonder,' she said, breaking the silence at last, ' what papa's idea about our future was. He knew — he must have known — that we should have to provide for ourselves some day. At his age he could not have expected to outlive us; — wasn't it strange that he never seemed to think at all about it ? ' 'It was not his way,' Margery said, sighing. ' Poor What's to be done nexi ? 15 papa ! he never could bear to look forward ; and if he thought at all about it, I fancy he expected that we should marry.' ' How I hate that idea ! ' Lesley said, with vehem ence; 'that one is only born to fulfil that end!

Well, one thing at least is certain, at Christmas we must give up this house, and then — Hark ! there is the postman.' Two notes were brought in, both for Margery. One, in a familiar handwriting, she put unread in her pocket, with a slight, becoming blush ; the other she opened, and read aloud : 'My DEAR Margery, — As I find your efforts to meet with a suitable situation have hitherto failed, I write to make a proposal to you, both for your mother's sake and for your own. Miss Darby is about to leave me, on account of unfortunate pecu liarities of temper.' — ' Oh!' ejaculated Lesley; 'on which side, I wonder?' ' I have not met with any one as yet to fill her place, and now offer it to you. I could not make the same suggestion were Lesley to be in the case. I wish her well, and have no unfriendly feeling towards her, but she is too flighty for me.

I believe you, however, to be an amiable and accommodating young woman of domestic habits and tastes. If you are willing to put up with my whims, I think you may be happy with me, and I shall not exact too much from you. I shall be glad for you to call at the Grange to-morrow, if convenient, any time after ' Bonnie Lesley! 16 eleven, if you entertain any idea of accepting my proposition, and we can then talk over the matter at our leisure. Believe me', my dear Margery, sincerely your friend, Eltz. PENNINGTON.' Margery let the hand which held this note fall upon her knee, as she looked with serious intentness into the fire. ' Well,' cried the younger sister a little impa tiently, ' what do you think about it ? ' Could you possibly put up with Queen Elizabeth ? ' ' I wish I saw something else open,' Margery answered slowly, with sadness in her voice. ' 'It is not an inviting prospect, and yet — yes, I could bear it, Lesley, if only it were not for you.' ' There is one thing in its favour,' Lesley said, trying to speak hopefully, ' Frank will be only three miles from the Grange.

He rhight often walk over.' ' Oh, Lesley, my dear ! ' Margery cried, for the first time with some impatience ; ' don't try to make it seem more tolerable that way. I know well enough nothing but sheer necessity drives me to it. Lady Pennington has plenty of good qualities, — a great many more than you will allow yourself to see in her ; but she is not the companion I should choose, and, above all, she is the last woman in the world to encourage such a love affair as ours. If I see Frank now and then, by chance, that is the utmost I expect. But it will not do to put this offer on one side directly. Lady Pennington is kind at heart, though she seems so dry and harsh ; she is clever, and she can be good ? 17 company sometimes. But it is not what I should have chosen for myself, nor you for me, I know that very well.

Lady Pennington means well, and she has sense, but she is dry, narrow, fond of her own way, obstinate, and whimsical.' ' Oh, I can add to the list ; — she is a dreadful screw, jealous, and has a horrid temper if you give way to her. If you want to make her at all tolerable, you must begin by being firm. If you are not too meek with her, you may get on. I believe you are the only person who could live with her ; and I'll say this for her, I think she does care for you. But as for me, that picnic at Ashbridge ruined me for ever in her esteem, and fixed my character at once. I am a flirt, forward, bold, — oh, I don't know what else ! She could never tolerate me.' ' She makes you in one of your wild moods, just out of contradiction.' ' Yes ; I own that I like irritating her majesty ! But, withal, I think I have a sneaking kindness for the old lady.

She has the elements of some fine qualities ; she might have made a great man ; she has the talent of command and management, and she is as brave as a lion. I shall never forget the alarm of housebreakers, when she stalked down-stairs alone, without calling any one, and walked in with a light, fully expecting to find two or three men in the drawing-room. And when the horses ran away with her, I don't believe her pulse beat in the least quicker. I fear it must be, Margery, you must put up with Queen Elizabeth for a while, till Frank gets a living ; and as for me ' — B ' Bonnie Lesley! 18 'Well, as for you, Lesley? have you any scheme in your mind ? ' ' I mean to go to-morrow and consult Lady Thornely on the question.' 'Lady Thornely! Why, Lesley, we do not know her ! ' ' No matter for that.

Papa knew her a little ; and she is just the woman to help me. Her great crotchet at present is settling young women in life. She is very rich, clever, they say, and benevolent. Perhaps she may find me a place as lady-help.' 'Lesley ! You are not serious, dear ? ' ' Perfectly serious, my Margery ; say no more. I am going to light a candle now, and look overthose papers while you read Frank's effusion. Don't look so distressed, Madge, about what I said. If I have to be a lady-help, I hope that won't prevent my being a lady still. I have no one to disgrace but you, and you will not easily be ashamed of me. You will take your place on your own merits where ever you go ; and I shall still be Lesley Blythe, if I am reduced even to blacking grates, which I do not expect, and do not intend to do if I can help it.

Since literature will not have me, and I am not fit to be a governess, what can I do ? You know thirty pounds a year won't keep me with my present healthy appetite, so let us face dire necessity bravely, Mar gery. I am not going to give way, and moan over my fate ; I am too proud, I hope, and too sanguine.' ' I made a sovereign by that lace work,' Margery said, musingly. 'Yes ; and nearly put out your dear eyes ! ' Lesley ? 19 cried with energy. ' Never, never again, shall you do that ; don't think it ! I had rather get up fine linen than see you injuring yourself in any way. The time has come for action ; it is no good to talk. And, after all, it's weary work going over our troubles ! Read your letter, Madge. I don't mean to say another word about money matters to-night. To-morrow evening we will compare notes on our experience.

I shall interview one great lady, and you another ; see which proves most amiable. At least, I have" got splendid health and a good will of my own ; they will carry me through many a campaign yet, Margery mavourneen ! '

Chapter II. Heads In Council

'Strong-minded, is she? Better so Than dullness set for sale or show. A household folly, capped and belled, In fashion's dance of puppets held.' Whittier. WERE you really serious yesterday, Lesley, in saying you should go to see Lady Thornely ? ' ' Quite so, my dear,' Lesley replied, calmly pursuing her breakfast. ' How do you know she is at home ? ' ' I am not quite so daft as not to have found t/iat out. Frank mentioned that she alone of all the family was at Thornely Court just now.' ' How do you propose to get there ? — not walk six miles ? ' ' No — though I could do it. John Denton is going to Honeywell Fair, I know, at eleven ; and I am sure he would take us both in the dog-cart, dropping you at the Grange and me a mile from Thornely Court. If I send a note down to Broad Acre farm they will only be too happy to oblige us; they like nothing better than to be asked to do us a favour.

John will be immensely proud. — It cannot do any harm ; Lady Thornely is not a woman to take it wrongly, I am sure. She is always very kind and straightforward ; and I don't think she is airified in the least, though they are the richest people in the county. Lord S is nothing to them.' ' I hope she won't think we want to beg,' Margery said, with a heightened colour and a little elevation of the head ; for Margery was by no means deficient in pride, for all her gentleness. ' I don't fancy / look much like a beggar, dear,' Lesley said superbly. She looked more like a princess, her sister thought, as she rose from the frugally-spread breakfast table, and looked at her own reflection in the glass. The plain black dress, like everything she wore, seemed to mould itself to the large, fine curves of her figure, and to take something of an air of distinction from its wearer.

Some women, who are not beautiful actually in feature, have this sort of power of com manding the eye to follow and dwell upon them with repose and pleasure. A vivid life and warmth is about them, and no one cares to analyse the charm ; it is there, and it has the effect of beauty. People might not like Lesley, they might deny her right to be admired, but they could never be indif ferent to her. She was antagonistic to some natures — violently so, even ; but when she attracted, it was with a strong and irresistible fascination, — that of ' Bonnie Lesley! 22 strength and vitality, and of a large, generous nature that delighted most in giving. The sisters were not outwardly demonstrative. They understood each other, and liked best to keep quiet about the deep love which each knew well existed for the other ; but now, as Margery looked at Lesley, a sharp pain shot through her, and she went up to her sister and took her arm between her hands. ' Life will be only half life to me if we are parted, Lesley,' she said ; and Lesley turned, and meeting the soft grey eyes, put an arm about her. ' Don't, Margery !

That sort of talk does for me,' she said, making her voice seem almost hard with the effort after repression. ' I cannot get on if we are to indulge in it! What is the use of dwelling on wretched thoughts that unfit one for work ? We know all about it ; don't bring it to the surface, or it makes a weak fool of me ! Besides, you have Frank.' 'That is just what pains me; you will be all the more lonely.' ' Be quiet,' now ! I won't have sentimentals. I don't want |a Frank ; men are more trouble than they are worth. Of course you think him all per fection, but / never shall see the man I think worthy you, — or myself either ! ' she added, laughing. 'I don't think Frank perfect by any means,' Margery answered calmly. 'It is not my way to idealize any one; but as for not being worthy me, that is absurd !

I do not venture to say any one would be good enough for the great Miss Lesley.' ' Sarcastic, are we ? Well, you might let me have a good opinion of myself, — no one else has. But no matter, the thing under consideration is to get to Thornely Court. Shall I send a line to Mrs. Denton, or run down ? ' ' A note will do if you know John is going ; they offered to take us the other day.' So a note was sent to good-natured Mrs. Denton, who was always only too glad to do a good turn to the 'poor old vicar's daughters,' and who was con stantly pressing hospitality upon them, either in the form of heavy middle-day dinners of plump ducks and plum-pudding, or farmhouse tea and cream. You could not please her better than by taking a meal at Broad Acre farm. She was a comfortable, well-to-do widow; not pretending to be quite " the lady,' as she" said, but still well respected, and rank ing rather above even the best of the tradesmen in the neighbourhood, and had always been on friendly terms with the vicar's family.

Margery and Lesley used to play in the great barns and on the hay-ricks, twelve or fourteen years ago, with John and Will Denton, and think a long summer's day at the farmhouse the greatest of earthly enjoyments, finishing up with a supper of hot sausages and tart, which would make a doctor shudder, but which had no effect on their robust young frames. The young men were shy and respectful now, especially to Lesley, because she was the largest and the handsomest, and had rather a grand air sometimes ; but they were on good terms, and the ' Bonnie Lesley! 24 Miss Blythes were quite friendly and natural with the tall, ruddy, honest-faced young farmers, who treated them with elaborate politeness, which was well meant if rather oppressive. At eleven o'clock John Denton and the double dog-cart appeared at the Vicarage, and found the girls ready and wrapped up to brave the keen clear air, which they would meet a little too strongly in driving.

John helped Margery to the seat beside him, looking fair and pretty in her deep black, and Lesley sprang to the seat behind. She did not care about being helped, and people naturally tendered more service to her sister, who was used to it and did like it. Margery's mourning was more becoming to her than Lesley's, who wanted a touch of warm colour to suit the animated, brilliant order of her good looks. Mournfulness and Lesley, were not in sym pathy ; what softened Margery had the opposite effect on her. The Grange was nearly four miles from Harrowby Vicarage, and the drive was a silent one. They tried now and then to make talk for sheepish John Denton ; but his mind was intensely occupied on the sale of a horse just then, and theirs were full of the coming parting from the familiar scenes, — a parting which must be at least as far as regarded the Vicarage, where they had spent the greater part of their lives, and been as carelessly happy as two girls could be.