Drifting. A novel

Chapter 1

' I remember, I remember The house where I was born. It was sweet spring weather when nature, like a beautiful girl after a protracted sickness, rouses itself and comes forth from its long death - like sleep, unfolding new beauties, and daily gaining strength from the warm, bright sunshine's caressing rays, which coax the tender leaves from their little brown prisons, and glorify each green blade of grass. Yes ! It was April with all its coquettish ways and fickle fancies — here a smile — there a blinding storm of tears — laughter for joy, that the summer is coming; sorrow and regret for the winter that is gone. She holds out one hand for a farewell pressure from the past dreary months, with their dark grey clouds, cold winds, hail and snowflakes ; the other hand is extended for a friendly shake with the bright, glowing time to come, and the sun quietly whispering ' Be sure you are off" with the old love before you are on with the new.' April answering with a radiant happy smile ' Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.' In the woods the birds were having a regular practice.

One could hear the sweet soprano of the woodlark and linnet, the mellow tenor of the bullfinch and blackbird, A DRIFTING 2 and the discordant bass of the rook ; and running through the whole concerto was the low plaintive murmur of the wood pigeon, reminding the listener that, as in music so in life, the most joyful triumphant notes have their relative minor. What a happy time these birds had — far removed from all the smoke and dust and fogs of London, away in the sweet peaceful country, where traps and guns were almost unknown, and where tourists had not yet pene trated. I will not tell you in what county lies this beautiful little English village, with its far stretching woods, hills and valleys, and you would not find the name of the scene of my romance either in Bradshaw or the A. B. C. Suffice it to say that the sparsely scattered red roofed or thatched cottages nestling among the old trees that had weathered many and many a storm, and the narrow and irregularly red tiled walks and roads^ proving that the turnpikes received visits few and far between, formed the little village of Cotlands.

The fear of having it converted into a so-called fashion able watering-place, deters me from telling you how this nook may be reached, for no sooner does the railway engineer or contractor, backed by powerful interest, descry a spot he fancies, however sequestered or far removed from all speedy means of access, than it is doomed. Then comes the builder with his plans, and houses and hotels spring up as if by magic, and a new church rears its brand new spire, with other innovations that shock and astound the quiet and simple minds of those who make it their boast that they have passed the whole of their lives in that one spot. Such desecration seems to me like that in the case of a young debutante, ' brought out ' in all her innocence and fresh wildness of youth, who perhaps in one short year becomes a hardened woman of the world.

The bloom is off the peach, the wild rose petals have fallen only to be trodden and crushed by the foot of any heedless passer by. DRIFTING 3 After this digression, I will describe the village with its surroundings and inhabitants. Picture to yourself clusters of pretty little grey stone cottages with their thatched or red tiled roofs — for they were nearly all different — their latticed windows so low that the wealth of flowers in the tiny garden seemed to be trying to throw their beauty into the rooms. Roses and honeysuckle trained up the walls and in summer reached nearly to the chimney pots. Far into the east, the rich meadows stretched away, and undulating woods in the west veiled the sinking sun with a curtain of green and gold, and here and there in the distance the blue smoke rose in curling reeks from the chimney of some woodman's or gamekeeper's cottage, the timeworn red of whose tiled roof with its patches of yellow stonecrop, might be discerned amid the trees.

Away to the north, hills rose in view, and on the slope of one of the highest, stood a large old-fashioned red brick house, looking as though it were clambering up to have a peep at the sea, which burst upon the sight mingling its gleaming transient sails and deep blue expanse with the myrtle and emerald green of the woods and fields. This house was the abode of Squire Brandon — ' the good old Squire ' as all the villagers called him, who was one of a very ancient family, his ancestors dating from the time of the Conquest. Brandon Hall had been the seat of successive generations of the Brandons from time immemorial, and its walls had sheltered the inevitable black sheep, the darlings, the ne'er-do-wells and the angels of a long line. Could the Brandon walls have spoken, they would have told how the idolised, fair haired boy, had set forth in all the pride of his dawning manhood to serve his country, ay, and gladly die for it if need be, and how, after long years of loyal and faithful service, in defence of his king and country, he had returned bearing honourable wounds, and laden with medals and distinctions, to the home of his ancestors ; DRIFTING 4 but, alas — few recognised the grey head and scarred face, and the manly upright bearing of the valiant warrior.

Those he had loved were dead and gone, the villagers whom he had left old and infirm and who used to invoke blessings on the ' dear lad's sunny head ' as he passed their doors with a cheery word, were lying under the turf in Brandon churchyard — only two or three remembered ' a fair-haired youth who had left home to go away to the wars.' Recollect this all happened in the old days of long service when there was no playing at soldiers, and there were none of the easy going routes, no trains and swift steam transports with their attendant comforts — all was toil, labour and rough living ; a soldier had a hard time of it in those early days but he gloried in it, and his stout arm and good sword took the place of the modern instrument of war for wholesale slaughter. Mais nous avons change tout cela.

Well ! these same old walls could have gone on to say how the voices of merry children had rung through the rooms and galleries when playing at hide-and-seek in the quaint old cupboards and recesses that seemed made for that very purpose, and how some years later these children had all dispersed — the birds were fledged and had flown from the nest — leaving the fond mother whose voice had mingled with theirs in the peals of laughter during their romps, alone to cheer and comfort the last days of a devoted husband, her breaking heart at the vision of loneliness in the future disguised by a smiling face 'and hidden by the cheerful word, that the few remaining months of his existence might not be embittered by a sense of her own misery. And again they had been witnesses of the prodigal son who' having wasted his substance in riotous living, had resolved to seek his father and sue for forgive ness, but, on , his return, had found a widowed mother who received him with open arms and loving pardon when with trembling lips he had told his sorrowful DRIFTING 5 tale, and how, when his raven hair was streaked with grey he had become the constant, ever-ready companion of his mother and they were closely knit together by that love which comes to the one sinner that re penteth, but which is never known by and never can come to the ninety-and-nine which need no repentance.

The beautiful avenue of beeches, cedars, chestnuts and sycamores had witnessed gay wedding processions on their way to the church. When the bells had rung joyously, the Brandon flags had been hoisted and the villagers had turned out in their Sunday best, having de spoiled their gardens of the largest flowers to throw down before the bride. It was one of the Brandon jokes that one blooming bride had tripped over a sunflower and slipped on a dahlia on her way out of the church. If it be true, we may be sure the bridegroom had no cause to blame the rustic arrangements. The same branches in this avenue that had waved their congratulations had also waved their farewells when a mournful funeral procession had passed down the same way from the Hall to the quiet little churchyard. So it is with old houses, old friends and old scenes ; they must bring back conflicting memories.

There is no Lethe, or how greedily would many of us drink the kind, merciful draught ; but no ! — we must all go bravely on to the end and not shrink, and since we are each of us more or less the architect of his or her own fate, may God give us strength to go through life with little to regret in the past and nothing to fear in the future. CHAPTER H ' We are a merry family ' The Brandons were a very happy family as families go, and as is usually the case where there are many brothers and sisters there was the regulation amount of squabbling kissing and making it up, and all the thousand-and-one little drawbacks which loosen the ties of affection only to rivet them closer. They were all young, bright-spirited, and constantly getting into trouble with the ruling powers, but they had a code of honour amongst them selves — that they would stand by each other through thick and thin and relieve the desolate and oppressed.

The latter referred to any of them who were suffering condign punishment, a by no means rare occurrence; for the pater, as the boys called him, was subject to phases of anger and sternness which he called gout but which others called temper, perhaps both were right; anyhow, this complaint, with its complicated appellation, was sure to bring down his dire wrath on their devoted heads on but scant provocation. Mr Brandon was very handsome, very proud — proud of his good name and his lordly possessions, stern and unbending at all times; his word once given was as irrevocable as the law of the Medes and Persians. He was tall and broad shouldered; his walk alone would betray his decided nature, so determined and uncompromising was it : nothing escaped his eagle DRIFTING 7 eye, as the young Brandons knew to their cost; his bronzed face told of an outdoor life, and his mouth nearly hidden by a thick moustache, showed he had an indomit able will.

He used often to say that he would rather see his children in their graves, than that any of them should live to dishonour his name. No erring lamb would have been brought home upon his shoulders rejoicing, it would have been slaughtered where it was found. Mrs Brandon was an invalid and was worshipped by her olive branches : she it was to whom they took all their childish troubles, hopes and fears, and when they were in disgrace with the ' Home Ruler ' she was like the angel standing between Balaam and the ass, interceding for the culprit and causing Balaam to deal gently with his jibbing steed. Her beautiful thick golden hair was the admiration of all beholders, its massive glossy coils twisting themselves lovingly and caressingly around her small perfectly shaped head. Her complexion was like the delicate-tinted apple blossom, and its delicacy was heightened by the lustrous gazelle-like eyes with their long dark lashes.

She was small and very very beautiful, and one word from her could lower the proud rebellious spirit of any of her children when they were smarting under a stinging rebuke or unjust reproach from the 1 Home Ruler.' Why is it that in so many cases a father will render his boy or girl as obstinate as a mule, rousing all the fiercer nature and calling pride and self-will to fight for the upper hand, whilst a look from a fond mother, a favourite brother or a loving sister, will bring up all the soft feelings of a sensitive nature with a rush, making the tears come to the eyes and evoking a passionate longing to be more tender, more gentle and loving, and a yearning desire for higher feelings to lift one above the petty gnat-stings of daily life which are so much harder to bear than a large wound.

Gladys was the eldest of the family, and just like her mother ; she was nineteen, and a very dainty looking DRIFTING little piece of goods, with an ever ready laugh, and innocent childish ways which her admirers considered most fascinating. She always reminded one of Tennyson's 'Airy fairy Lilian.' She was like a shallow rippling stream leaping high over the pebbles on its flower-strewn way, ever the same, taking no heed of anything that could impede its thoughtless flow, all her innermost nature lying on the surface as lightly as a wild rose petal on a scurrying river. Nothing would ever go hard with Gladys, she was too selfish and high-hearted. Charles, the eldest boy, was his mother's favourite, and no wonder. He was so gentle, kind, and thoughtful, so merry and sparkling withal, that they called him ' Cham pagne Charlie.' Broad, tall, and active he was considered like his father, or like what his father used to be, he had sunny, laughing blue eyes, light brown curly hair, and an incipient moustache, of which he was very proud.

Having always lived in the country, his simple habits and tastes would have brought many a contemptuous curl to the lips of any of the jeunesse dore'e of London. Muriel came next — the heroine of this story — a tall slim girl of sixteen, with two totally different sides to her nature, the one so laughing and gay, the other in tensely passionate, dreamy, and ambitious. As yet there had been little to disturb the latter, only year by year it deepened, and though she had an undefined feeling that her life would not be an easy one, she little knew the depth of her own stormy nature. Life for her would be hard, and she felt that it would be, but being yet a child she thought little of the future, she was thoroughly happy in the present. Idolised by her brothers, and devoted to her two younger sisters, she took no thought for the morrow.

Kathleen was her cadette, a girl of promising Spanish like beauty, tall and slender, with a small head, from which a dusky mass of jet black hair flowed over her shoulders. She had the large soft languorous eyes of the sunny South, and was generally thoughtful and DRIFTING 9 dreamy, but when she smiled it was like a ray of sunlight glancing athwart a deep silent pool, illumining its depths and shadows, and revealing unknown beauties. She was the family peacemaker, and had never been known to be really angry ; the boys had frequently tried her severely but it was of no avail, they could not take a rise out of Kathleen. She would have deemed it beneath her dignity to acknowledge that she was ' teased.' The only thing that could really rouse her was an injustice done to anyone too young or too weak to stand up in self-defence, and then she would see wrong righted and not rest till it was so.

Jack was the next in the family, and was destined to become a sailor. He was a twelve-year-old pickle with nothing remarkable about him but his appetite : and last, but not least, came Clare, with a head like a Greuze study, and a wee fairy-like figure. She was only five years old and was nicknamed ' the surprise ' because she put in such an unexpected appear ance. The boys adored and teased her by turns, but it all seemed to come to her ' in the way of business' ; her clear ringing baby voice used to be heard in the house and all about the gardens, singing snatches of nursery rhymes, or, still oftener, choice morsels of songs she had picked up from the boys, shocking alike in their slang and incipient profanity. Whenever her voice of melody was thus lifted up within probable hearing distance of the ' Home Ruler,' a rush was made for her, and ominous threats of a paternal castigation would be used to keep her dumb and awestruck — for she was in mortal terror of her father — till she could run off to the nursery to her beloved Nancy without the fear of being waylaid by the ' authorities.' And who was Nancy : Only their old and much be loved nurse, who had been in the Brandon family for upwards of twenty years.

She had been married at nineteen to one of the Brandon gardeners, who, after a year of unhappy connubiality, expired in a fit of delirium DRIFTING 10 tremens, leaving his trim active wife a chance of getting up again in the world. She had found her marriage a mistake and did not hesitate to own it : on her husband's death she had entered the Brandon family as Mrs Brandon's maid and was subsequently appointed head nurse, a title in which she greatly rejoiced. She alternately petted and tyrannised over them, and they had many and severe scuffles with her, often telling her they hated her, but she knew as well as themselves that the nursery would be desolate and dreary without her kind, genial portly presence which had almost become part of the furniture of the room. In her estimation they were the most noisy, unruly set of children she had ever seen, with the exception of Gladys, and she often used to give long and severe lectures to them all on the subject, which generally ended in Jack's flinging something straight at her head and telling her that ' if she took her cue from the governor, the house would be too hot to hold them.' Having been with them all from their earliest baby hood she considered herself a very privileged person and used to go in and out of their rooms in the most nonchalant way, never dreaming that any of them could possibly dislike it.

It used to irritate Jack beyond endurance, when, during his matutinal ablutions a forcible entry was made at his door, and %vhen he, in great fluster and wrath would call out, ' for heaven's sake don't come in, I'm in my tub,' she would say soothingly and reassuringly, ' Lor' bless you, Master Jack, it's only Nancy.' The kitchen cat could not have been more humble and unassuming. Poor Jack had once got into grievous trouble with Nancy when eight years old, and though never mentioned by any of them — perhaps it was forgotten by the rest — the memory of it always rankled in the breast of the sinned-against and sinning. Nancy's husband was buried in Brandon churchyard, and Jack, who had been reading a book on monumental inscriptions, thought Tom DRIFTING 11 Smith's tombstone looked blank and uncared for with out an epitaph, and meaning it to be an agreeable sur prise to Nancy, he employed his time and talents in carving out the following touching ode, 'In Memoriam. ' When Thomas was called he answered " Adsum Through// igidum sine or calidum cum." ' Imagine Nancy's 'feelings on seeing this as she took her usual Sunday offering of flowers to the dead man's grave !

She stalked majestically back to the Hall and gave warning saying she had been ' treated disgracefully by one of the young masters or mississes, she couldn't put up with such unkindness, she couldn't ! Who could have done it ? She didn't know ; it must have been Master Jack, and she was sure of it, he always used bad words that no one could understand.' After a storm comes a calm. Nancy was soothed and pacified by a promise that Jack should make amends for his misdoings, and that a nice, comfortable epitaph should be written in place of the other. Jack was bitterly disappointed ; he thought it so clever and never dreamt there could be anything offensive in his production. Here was the origin of the armed neutrality between the two. Nancy could never forgive Jack, and Jack could not help feeling that he once made a fool of himself without quite knowing how or why.

It ended in Nancy's choosing her own epitaph, and re membering her worthy husband's calling she had caused to be inscribed — ' He toiled for his Master as Adam did in Eden, Causing the flowers to grow : But he was called away whilst yet it wa9 day To make trumpets, not roses, to blow.' This she considered ' that touching, without any aspersions on his character.' Gladys had several admirers, but the one and only favoured suitor was Sir Robert Carston who owned lordly DRIFTING estates about ten miles from Coblands, and though he was twenty years older than herself, she passed lightly over his age as a thing that could not possibly be averted by anyone, and received his attentions with marked affability. He was, as the boys said, very good-looking if it were not for his face, for he was well-made, had a good athletic figure, and splendid hands and feet, but his face was much marred by a squint which made him appear to be looking at an object which began in nothing and ended in nowhere ; and he had at times a cruel, hard smile, leading a close observer to feel sure that he could be overbearing and tyrannical when crossed, and that tenderness was a quality quite unknown to him.

He, however, was devoted to Gladys, who fully expected a proposal to fall from his lips, and it was Muriel's function when Sir Robert appeared, to make the way smooth for the two. The other children used all to rush off like a troop of wild Indians, into the garden to talk about the jolly time they would have at Carston Towers when Gladys reigned there. Several times during the week, this little episode of mutual accommodation would be enacted, but Sir Robert used to ride off after a long visit without the expected result. This constant suspense rendered Gladys irritable and unhappy, and she took Kathleen into her confidence, and it was heard that the former had burst into a flood of tears after Sir Robert's last visit, and flinging her arms round Kathleen's neck, had said : ' Oh Kathleen is there nothing I can do to make him propose ; can't I say something to lead him gently up to the point ? ' Kathleen's answer was practical, and proved most use ful, ' I don't quite know what you could do, Gladys dear, unless the next time he comes, you were to ask him to sing to you, for I know he does sing though he has never done so here, then you could see what sort of song he sang and how it affected him, etc., and I really think something might come of it.' This advice was taken, with what result we shall pre- DRIFTING 13 sently see, though for her part, Gladys was decidedly startled at such precocity from a girl only fifteen years old, but on the whole was not displeased at it, thinking she might be turned to some account.

Muriel and Kathleen were very soon going to school at Wharton, a place about two hours distant by rail from Brandon, and the idea of it hung like the sword of Damocles over their heads. It would be the first time they had ever left their home, except when they had all gone away en famille, and the prospect was anything but cheerful. They had all been so happy together, and Muriel was dreading the time of parting with Charles; she was devoted to him and they were inseparable. Charlie however was also destined to leave home ; he was going to a tutor's to be coached for the army, and Jack would continue to go to a day-school just outside the village, where the clergyman's sons, the doctor's sons and the young hopefuls of the few families sparingly scattered in the neighbourhood invariably went.

No one ever dreamed to think of sending their boys anywhere else till they were about fourteen. ' Goldy's school ' was quite an old institution ; the master's name being Goldsmith this was the well-known elegant abreviation. Gladys and Clare would be the only two at home, for Jack only came home in the evening and was off again early the next morning. How quiet Brandon would be ! Would it ever be the same again was Muriel's constant thought, they had all been so happy, and in a year or two all their childish ways and feelings would be so changed, and it was hardly likely the whole family could expect to be reunited again for any length of time.

Chapter III

' By mutual confidence and mutual aid Great deeds are done and great discoveries made.' It was one of those rare and beautiful days which does by chance occur now and again in England in the month of April ; the sun was shining brilliantly, the apple and cherry trees in the orchards were laden with blossom, looking like snow-capped mountains, with here and there a rosy glow like the reflection of a sinking sun. The smooth green lawn like emerald velvet, the flower beds all ablaze with colour, looking like jewels in the sunshine, and the dark cedars throwing their protecting arms over the celandines, the blue bells and the daffodils which grew so luxuriantly in the grass on the way to the Brandon wilderness — all combined to make one feel that there can be a paradise on earth, when one is happy, healthy, and surrounded by the beauties of nature.

Muriel, Clare and Jack are on this same lawn in various attitudes more suggestive of comfort than of elegance. Hubert, the great mastiff, is playing with Muriel's hand, and the deep sonorous bark of Bruno, the St Bernard, tells that he has been let loose by the stable boy Harley, and is now bounding towards them, to the terror of Clare who has squeezed up her eyes with fright, and is clinging to Jack. They are all very quiet, till suddenly Jack exclaims : ' There's Sir Robert ! I hear his horse. Wonder DRIFTING 15 where Gladys is ! I hope he will come to the point, as the man said when he was trying to spear an eel.' ' Gladys has made every arrangement for comfort and convenience,' laughed Muriel ; ' Kathleen has been help ing her all the morning, and the piano is placed behind a portiere so that the view of interlopers will be obstructed should the song prove touching.' Jack throws back his head and laughs contentedly.

Clare looks mystified, and knowing that nothing will be seen of the couple in whom they are so interested for at least an hour they all begin to want something to do. A bright thought strikes Jack ; he bounds up suddenly and tears off calling out, — ' I'm going to Harley, I shall be back in a minute ; mind, you wait.' True to his word he soon returns bearing a large wicker cage in his hand, and casting furtive glances be hind and before and from side to side to see if there are any signs of the ' paternity ' about the grounds. Muriel seeing his suppressed agitation calls out, — ' It's all right, Jack, there's no one to tell, and papa has gone over to the Home Farm, so for two hours at least we are safe.' 'To the gods be all praise and thanks,' fervidly ex claims Jack ; ' and now to commence operations.' Here Muriel gave a visible shudder and looked as if she were steeling herself for some great and terrible trial — certainly for something plainly repugnant to her, but from which she would not shrink.

Jack had produced a red garden pot with a cork in the hole. It contained grass which was only a decent covering for — worms ! The work thus cut out for Muriel was to help Jack to feed some young thrushes, and it used to make her heart sick and her whole soul rise in revolt against her occupa tion, but she knew that their safety and probable chance of life lay with her, and since they were taken in spite of all her entreaties to the contrary she was determined they should be well cared for. DRIFTING Jack, to his great delight, had found a nest containing five nasty, little, ugly, half-fledged thrushes, all opening their cavernous mouths directly their pretty symmetrical home of moss and leaves and dry mud was touched, each emulating the other in the matter of noise, clamouring for food and flapping their apologies for wings.

In spite of all the prohibitions and threats should young birds be seen and taken, Jack with filial disobedience had smuggled these budding songsters and put them into a cage and on condition that Muriel helped to feed them, they became Jack's and her joint-property. No entreaties nor persuasions on Muriel's part could dissuade him from his cruel purpose; she even went so far as to quote Thomson to him and with a laughing voice which she tried hard to make impressive, had said with emphasis — ' Oft when returning with her loaded bill, The astonished mother finds an empty nest By the hard hands of unrelenting clowns Robbed—' ' If calling him an unrelenting clown doesn't touch him,' thought she 'I may expect the worst.' His angry ' Muriel, can't you shut up ! /am going to take them, not you, you needn't be afraid of the " Home Ruler"' confirms her fears. ' Jack, you are horrid !