Killeen: a study of Girlhood

Part I

Bear a lily in thy hand ; Gates of brass cannot withstand One touch of that magic wand. I

Chapter I

' He fixed thee 'mid this dance Of plastic circumstance. This Present thou, forsooth, wouldst fain arrest ; Machinery just meant To give thy soul its bent, Try thee and send thee forth, sufficiently impressed.' Robert Browning. It was eight o'clock on a clear, cold Sunday night towards the end of January, and all Southaven was at the evening service. For Southaven is a distinctly church-going place, and were a visitor to that busy old seaport to walk through its quaint, narrow streets on a Sunday during the hours apportioned to Divine worship, the chances are he would meet scarcely a single passer-by — that is to say, in the principal thoroughfares, where all along the rows of shops wooden shutters are carefully put up against the plate-glass windows. And stationer, fishmonger, butcher, and the handsome premises of Messrs. Velton and Moir, the old established millinery and haberdashery warehouse which supplies half the county families of Heathshire, present alike a uniform dull, blank exterior.

Even the establish ment of Messrs. Pestar and Mortle. the leading chemists of Southaven, the exigencies of whose business exempt them from the ordinary rules of Sabbath observance, shares in the general air of decorous Sunday quiet. KILLEEN 4 But even at Southaven there were, alas ! courts and slums to which as ' aboon the pass of Bally-Brough ' ' Sunday seldom cam' — dark places which lay very heavily at the heart of the Vicar of St. Saviour's, whose parish was in the poorest, busiest part of the old town, lying along the wharves, with rows of aged, red-tiled houses on either hand, through which flows the widening river, laden with shipping, till it loses itself in the broad, restless waters of Southaven Bay. However, notwithstanding its unfashionable position, people flocked to St. Saviour's from all parts of Southaven to hear the Rev. Miles Claughton preach, and to join in the bright, hearty services that were held in the old church, which stood just over the bridge on the quay-side, its fine tower a landmark to ships for many a mile out to sea.

To-night the church vvas crowded as usual, and the large congregation vvas hanging with apparently rapt interest on the earnest, impassioned concluding words of the Vicar's sermon. To the heart of one listener — a slight, graceful girl of about seventeen, in deep mourning, and with a wistful, heart broken expression on her face, very sad to see in one so young — they brought a feeling of inexpressible peace. Gradually a look of trust and hope began to shine in her dark eyes, even through a mist of something very like tears, and as the preacher ended, as he had begun, with the words, ' Be not anxious . . . your heavenly Father knoweth,' she felt a new courage given her to face the dreaded, unknown life stretching out before her, upon which she was about to enter, starting to-morrow for a new home, among strangers of whom she knew scarcely anything but their names.

Then, when the concluding hymn vvas sung, the clergy and choristers had filed out of the church, and the loud, KILLEEN 5 triumphant strains of the voluntary were rolling in great waves of sound up to the arched roof, and through the long echoing aisles and transepts, Nesta Thorold gave a last yearning look around her, as if she wished to stamp every pointed window and clustered pillar ineffaceably on her mind. Till at length, feeling a light touch on her shoulder, she slowly turned and followed her companion down the aisle, and the two — the quiet, gentle-looking lady and the slight, black-robed girl — went out into the night. They crossed the bridge, under which the murky river stole slowly and silently, between dim, shadowy houses and lines of black masts and spars rising like phantom trees on either side.

Then, with a stream of other people, bound in the same direction as themselves, they passed down the quiet High Street, meeting or absorbing other streams which issued from the many winding streets branch ing off the main thoroughfare, as various and diverse con gregations dispersed in all directions from their several places of worship, on their way to Southaven East — the modern part of the town — where Nesta's home had been almost as long as she could remember. Neither of the two spoke for a few minutes after the church had been left behind. Perhaps each was too busily occupied with her own thoughts, or the hearts of both might have been too full for speech. At last the silence was broken by the girl exclaiming in a dreamy, half-stupefied tone, as if the words were wrung out of her almost against her will : 'And next Sunday I shall be in Ireland, hundreds of miles away from you, from all I love, among strangers, alone in a strange place.

Oh, Miss Weston, I think my heart will break !' ' Hush, dear ! try not to give way,' said her companion KILLEEN soothingly. Then, after a pause, she went on in a low tone : ' Nesta dear, I know both our hearts are feeling very sore to-night.' She sighed wearily. ' It is hard for me to part with my child.' The last words were added under her breath, but the young girl caught them. ' Then, Miss Weston,' she cried eagerly, ' it is not yet too late. Let us write — telegraph to these Dillons to say that I will never leave you — my more than mother — you who have loved me and taken care of me all my life, when my own relations never moved a finger to help, or troubled themselves about what became of me. Oh, Miss Weston, let me stay with you !' she went on, her voice full of a piteous, tearful entreaty that went to the very heart of her listener. ' Don't send me away !' And she slipped her arm coaxingly into that of her companion.

Miss Weston vvas deeply moved. And it was a moment or two before she could command her voice sufficiently to answer. ' Nesta, don't make it more difficult than it is !' she said almost sharply. Then in an altered voice, which gained firmness as she went on : ' Child, we must submit ; it is no good struggling against what is inevitable. It has been said that " Nothing is intolerable that is necessary." And it is necessary that we should part. Should I be doing my duty towards you, Nesta,' she continued in a more natural tone, ' if I refused to give you up to your grandmother, setting aside your father's latest wish ? I think, dear, in time — even if I had the power and authority to claim you for my own, which I have not — that you would come to reproach me for the selfishness of my love, if I thought of my own happiness rather than your good.

For you have a bright future before you, I feel sure of it ; you will find life at Killeen a far more exciting, fascinating thing than the old KILLEEN 7 humdrum existence here. And they cannot fail to love my child.' The last words were added in a tone of quiet confidence, as if the alternative were utterly impossible. ' And you actually think I could be capable of such detestable base ingratitude as to repent of having cast in my lot with you, if you would only have me !' cried the girl indignantly. ' I fancied you knew me better ! It is only because father wished it, not because they are rich, grand people,' she went on in a tone of dreary acquiescence, ' that I suppose I have to submit. Otherwise I would have stuck to you like — like ' — and she searched about for a suitable simile — ' a leech /' stopping short defiantly, perhaps aware that the illustration — if forcible — vvas not exactly an elegant one. ' I never doubted your loyal, loving little heart, my child, for one moment,' returned Miss Weston, cheered by the girl's generous young unworldliness. 'Still,' she continued with a true woman's utter self-abnegation, ' I can't help being thankful that you are spared a life of toil and poverty.

I have known what it is to be obliged to make my own way in the world, and rejoice to think that such will not be your fate. You have far too ardent and imaginative a temperament, Nesta, to plod patiently along ; you would eat your heart out in the attempt. No, now that your father is gone, I am thankful, I repeat, to think that you will be lifted out of the drudgery and privations of such an existence as mine has been. Besides, I might be taken from you, and then you would have to struggle on alone.' ' But it seems so selfish to think only of myself,' urged the girl impatiently. ' I know that you and Mr. Claughton say my character wants backbone ; that I am not plodding and persevering enough, and that I let my imagination run KILLEEN away with me ; and I know I am much fonder of poetry and art than stupid, dull, useful things.

But, indeed, indeed,' she went on earnestly, ' you would have seen how I meant to work next term. And if I passed the Cambridge Local, as I should, I might soon earn something to help, so that you needn't work so hard. And as for being happy at Killeen, I can never be that with people who despised and scorned my dear father. I feel as if their bread will choke me !' she cried passionately. ' Oh, father, father, why were you taken from me !' 'Nesta, I thought you were struck by the sermon we have just heard ; has the impression worn away already ?' said Miss Weston quietly. Nesta was silent. A few minutes before her soul had found rest unspeakable in a humble unconditional surrender of her own to the Divine will. Had she again begun to chafe and fret against the inscrutable decrees of that Providence, trying to snatch back the oblation, the offering of which had brought her such calm and peace ?

They had now reached the region of terraces and villas, on emerging from the network of quaint winding streets in the midst of which lay the parish of St. Saviour's. How often Nesta had trod that well-beaten track ! what happy, holy memories were bound up with the old gray church in which she had worshipped all her young life ! The long Parade stretched away before them for more than a mile, in front of rows of houses ; and the wide bay opened out, its great heaving expanse of water all shining in the pale glory of a full moon. Miss Weston and Nesta paused almost instinctively to take in the solemn grandeur of the scene. And the latter followed with her eyes the long, shimmering pathway of mellow silver light spanning the restless waste of sea, above KILLEEN ■9 which the moon looked down calm and serene, untroubled by the ceaseless inquietude of the moving plain beneath.

And again that night Nesta Thorold felt hushed and stilled as she realized afresh the all-pervading care and presence of that Father who holds the ocean in the hollow of His hand, and yet feeds the birds of the air and clothes the lilies.

Chapter II

' Pros. Hear a little further, And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now 's upon 's ; without the which this story Were most impertinent.' Tempest. ' She's o'er the Border, and awa' Wi' Jock of Hazeldean.' Sir Walter Scott. Nesta Thorold was an orphan. Her mother had only survived her birth a few hours, and now, just before the opening of this story, she had lost her father also. But she had scarcely missed a mother's love, Miss Weston having done all in her power to satisfy that want. And her father — far off at his post in India — had been little more to her than a faint recollection. Still, though only known to her by frequent letters and early childish memories, her father was very dear to Nesta, and he vvas the centre of many a day-dream in which the happy future was mapped out — when she should be old enough to go to him, or he should return and live in England, and she keep house for him.

Poor child ! her castle in the air was rudely shattered when tidings came that her father had gone far beyond the reach of her loving care. And then, almost immediately after, the girl's whole future was suddenly changed by a demand made to Miss KILLEEN 11 Weston by her mother's relations, that Nesta should be sent to Ireland, and that her home was henceforth to be with them. Perhaps the thought of parting was even more painful to Miss Weston than to Nesta, for she had loved her with a mother's love, and would have gladly provided for her as her own child. But she had no choice in the matter. Nesta's natural home was with her nearest relations. And now Miss Weston was about to yield up her child to utter strangers, whom neither she nor Nesta had ever seen, and with whom their sole acquaintanceship consisted in the exchange of a few purely formal and business-like letters.

Nesta's mother had been a Dillon of Killeen, one of the oldest and proudest families in Ireland, and Nesta Dillon — my heroine inherited her mother's name — an only daughter. She had been brought up entirely in the country, living a free out-of-doors life, and sharing in all her brother's amuse ments and pursuits, her youngest brother, Gerald — a year older than herself — who, having always been delicate, and thought unfit for public-school life, was educated at home, being her inseparable companion. It was a lonely life, and desultory, one-sided kind of educa tion, fostering an unpractical and over-romantic turn of mind. The girl was an inordinate reader, and the advice of Elia, that young people should be allowed to browse at will in a spacious closet of good old English reading, was literally followed in her case.

The old library at Killeen was her favourite haunt, and here she was generally to be found buried in some volume of poetry or romance, except when she was wandering through the large park with her dogs, or scouring the country on horseback for hours at a time. Of her mother she saw little. Lady Margaret was a KILLEEN 12 fashionable woman of the world, proud and ambitious, with little taste for country life — especially in Ireland. Colonel Dillon was her second husband. She had married first her cousin Cosmo Melcombe, who, as she had no brother, was next heir in the entail to her father, Lord Brockenhurst. But he had died a year after their marriage, leaving her with an infant son, Cosmo, on whom she lavished all the affection of which her cold nature seemed capable. She certainly bestowed very little on her two sons, Maurice and Gerald, by her second husband, and for her only daughter she appeared at times to have a positive aversion. ' Nesta is so painfully Irish,' she would complain. ' Always in such ridiculous extremes — so different from my family.

I cannot understand her in the least.' And she would turn with satisfaction to her quiet son Cosmo, now Lord Brockenhurst, who always did the right thing under any circumstance, and fulfilled every expecta tion which was formed of him, and who, after a successful enough career at Eton and Oxford, had entered the diplomatic service, in which there vvas not the smallest doubt but that he would acquit himself with credit. Lady Margaret had insisted on Colonel Dillon's entering Parliament soon after their marriage, and conscientious attention to his Parliamentary duties kept him a good deal in London, his wife, of course, accompanying him. Then. when they were at Killeen, the house was, as a rule, filled with guests. So, though there vvas warm love between father and daughter, they were but seldom together.

When Nesta was about seventeen her first real grief befell her, in parting with her favourite brother Gerald, who then went to Oxford. Her brother Maurice, who was a good deal older, was abroad with his regiment. Lord Brocken hurst seldom came to Killeen, nor was there much sympathy between his half-sister and him ; and her German governess KILLEEN 13 — a sentimental visionary — was no companion, and had no real influence over her. The girl was more solitary than ever. There were few neighbours at Killeen, and her sole friends were her dogs and the poor people about, who idolized her. What wonder, then, that when Gerald — who had got into an idle set at Oxford, and would never read alone — found it necessary to bring over a tutor to coach with during the long vacation, she and the clever young Englishman should become dangerously attractive to each other ?

Arthur Thorold found it much more agreeable to discuss Tennyson, or Dante, or Schiller with Miss Dillon than to read the ancient classics with her brother, and many a morning was spent by them out in the garden among the roses and carnations over one poet or another, while Gerald lounged near, or evening in the oak-panelled, book-lined library, Fraulein Werther playing interminable sonatas, or dozing over her knitting, and leaving them virtually to that solitude ii deux, which is sometimes so fascinating. To do Thorold justice, he did not set himself deliberately to win Nesta Dillon's love. She seemed to him a beautiful, impulsive creature, half child, half woman, wholly charming, but strangely unlike the ordinary types of girls whom he had met, and no doubt flirted with, before now. There was no question of thai here, he told himself.

They were fellow students simply — and friends. Yes, he might venture to call himself her friend, perhaps. But there could be no danger in such a friendship. She was merely an interesting study of character to him, so utterly different from other girls ; he must go to the poets for her prototype. And he likened her by turns to Rosalind, or Thekla, or Una, or Imogen, or many another fair ideal of womanhood — a bright particular star, far beyond his reach, and so on, and so on. For Arthur Thorold was young and romantic, and, KILLEEN 14 moreover, in spite of prudent resolutions, was fast falling very deeply in love with the beautiful Nesta Dillon. And so the summer passed away like a vague, delightful dream to Nesta, from which she was suddenly awakened by the return of her parents, after an absence of several months.

Lady Margaret's manner on arriving was much more affectionate to her daughter than usual. She was quite struck with Nesta's beauty and shy, unconscious grace. She had not seen her now for nearly five months, and was both sur prised and gratified by the change she noticed in her. The tall, lanky child, whose hair was always in a mop of wild tangled elf-locks — while glossy ringlets were then the mode — and frocks always looked outgrown ; who was for ever rushing about with her dogs out-of-doors, or poring over books in the library, instead of sitting, fancy work in hand, in the drawing-room, content to smile and look pretty, like a well-brought-up young lady, had suddenly developed into this lovely girl, who welcomed her parents with such becoming blushes. ' Nesta has really become quite charming,' Lady Margaret confided to her husband. ' I always knew she had fine eyes — they are the true Irish eyes people rave so about.

But now her figure and her complexion are perfect, and there is something unusually distinguished about her altogether. You will see, Maurice, what a furore she will create when I present her next season. And she ought to make a really brilliant marriage. I quite look forward to taking her about,' she continued complacently, 'as I have no hesitation in saying she will be quite the beauty of the year.' And Colonel Dillon, very much flattered, and still more surprised to find his wife admiring anything Irish or belong ing to him, and grateful to be spared the usual complaints attendant on their arrival at Killeen about its loneliness and KILLEEN ■ 15 the chill breezes that swept down from the mountains or across the lake, called out from the recesses of his dressing room : ' I am delighted to hear you say so, my dear Margaret.

Really,' he added gallantly, ' people will not know which to admire most, mother or daughter.' And emboldened by her unusually gracious acknowledgment of his compliment, he went on to mutter something about the Dillons having always been famous for the beauty of their womankind and the air of Killeen being the best in the world. ' I only wish I was allowed to stay here,' he continued to himself, as he heard his wife go downstairs, ' and enjoy my little Nesta's company. She is the image of my mother, Nesta Fitzgerald, who was the handsomest woman of her day. Not one of these Melcombes, though they think so much of themselves, could have held a candle to her.' The first evening Thorold had not appeared, and both Gerald and he were absent the next morning from the breakfast-table, having gone out early flapper-shooting.

But later in the day Lady Margaret, who was out among her roses, observed her son coming towards the house accom panied by another young man, whom he introduced as his friend, Arthur Thorold. ' Come to my boudoir, Gerald,' said his mother, after bestowing a chillingly stiff bend of the head on Thorold ; ' I wish to speak to you. Pray, who is this Mr. Thorold,' she went on as she reached the room, ' and how long has he been here? Remember, Gerald, I will not allow you to bring any young man you choose to the house now that your sister is grown up, unless I know everything about him.' ' Oh, Thorold is only the fellow 1 am coaching with,' said Gerald carelessly. ' I say, mother, I must be off to change my things ; I am wet through.' ' The tutor !' exclaimed Lady Margaret in dismay ; ' I KILLEEN thought the man you said you were taking over vvas an old gray-headed creature in spectacles.

And now this good looking young man has been here for weeks !' she continued, her voice rising in a crescendo of consternation. ' He shall leave the house this instant. Give him his wages and send him off! I must go at once to your father.' And the indignant lady vvas hastening from the room, when Nesta, who had been an unseen auditor of the con versation, sprang before her. ' Mother,' she cried, ' he shall not be sent away ! He shall not he treated like a servant ! He ' And she burst into a passion of tears. The rest may soon be told. Lady Margaret's return put an end to that summer idyll as effectually as did ever that of Lady Ashton to the loves of Ravenswood and Lucy. But Nesta was made of sterner stuff than the hapless Bride of Lammermoor. She and Thorold met, and the impulsive, undisciplined girl consented to elope with him.

After their marriage Nesta was as completely cut off from her family as if she had been dead. Her mother refused to see her again, and Thorold, whose income was quite insuf ficient to keep his wife in anything like comfort, was glad to accept a post under Government in India, obtained through the interest of Lady Margaret's family. But Nesta's married life was soon over. Before two years had passed away all that vvas earthly of her was lying under the burning Indian sand, and her broken-hearted husband left with a baby-girl of only a few hours old. Thorold at first could scarcely bear the sight of the poor little innocent cause of his great sorrow ; and little Nesta would have fared badly but for Mrs. Chichester — the wife of his chief— who took the child at once to her motherly heart, and watched over her as if she had been her own.

But soon the young father began to take a wistful interest KILLEEN 17 in the bundle of white cambric carried about by the dusky, soft-eyed ayah. And when Nesta looked at him out of her mother's big Irish eyes with the wondering, solemn stare of babyhood, he vvas completely conquered, and became the child's devoted slave. It often brought tears to Mrs. Chichester's eyes as she watched them together, Thorold, in his bungling, masculine way tying the little lady's sash, or carrying her as gingerly as if she had been made of eggshell china or any other very brittle substance which required especially delicate handling. And later on, when Nesta could toddle by his side and prattle to him in her baby lingo, Arthur thought such a prodigy had never existed before, and used to bore all his acquaintances with her wonderful sayings, all but kind Mrs. Chichester, who never tired of listening to the marvels of infantine intelligence.

But a dark shadow always flitted before Thorold's mind. He knew that before long he should have to part with his darling. The little Northern plant could not flourish in that sweltering, unhealthy atmosphere. ' She is looking quite rosy and strong ; I may safely keep her a little longer ?' he would anxiously demand of his oracle, Mrs. Chichester. And Mrs. Chichester would shake her head doubtfully, and declare that very soon she should insist on Nesta's being sent to England. Then, before long, Thorold himself began to think his pet was growing too pale for healthy childhood, and grew as feverishly anxious to send her home as he had been before to keep her at his side. But the question was, Where should the child go ? His pride forbade any appeal to her mother's relations. Even if they would receive her, he shrank from committing his treasure to the cold, unloving care of Lady Margaret ; and the thought that his child would be brought KILLEEN 18 up to despise and look down on her father was intolerable.

But, still, a home must be found for her, and he had no near relations of his own who could take her in. His parents had long been dead, and his only sister was married to a missionary in Africa. There was one person But his cheek burned as he thought of her. Mary Weston had been his sister's dearest friend, and was constantly at their country vicarage in the old days. They had been like brother and sister — even dearer. He had never actually asked Mary to be his wife, but he had always hoped to, when he had risen to a position at the Bar (he had begun to read for that profession) which would make it possible to think of marrying. And he had no doubt vvhat Mary's answer would have been. He knew how patiently, how joyfully, she would have waited for him had he asked her. And then came that short, entrancing visit to Ireland, and Nesta Dillon had driven every thought of quiet, gentle Mary out of his head.

He mused over all this as he sat in the stifling bungalow. It had been a hot day even for that part of India, and evening brought no refreshing breeze with it. He had heard of Mary Weston only a few days before from his sister, who told him that her friend's father had died lately, leaving but little provision for his daughter, and that Mary had opened a small school for girls at Southaven. ' Yes, I will do it,' he exclaimed half aloud. ' Mary was always an angel — too good for me. And she will be good to the child for my sake.' He was right. Mary Weston answered his letter in a way that made him more convinced than ever of his having chosen wisely for his child in intrusting her to this old friend. And under Miss Weston's loving but firm rule Nesta grew up a bright, intelligent girl, imaginative and KILLEEN 19 impulsive, with fits of waywardness and impatience of con trol at times, but with a fund of good sense and strong principle underlying all, which spoke well for her judicious up-bringing.

Thorold had written briefly to Lady Margaret Dillon on Nesta's first going to Southaven to inform her of that fact. But beyond a somewhat curt reply there had been no further communication with Killeen, and our heroine grew to girlhood in complete ignorance of her mother's family. Her father she only saw once again. He came over to England when she was about eight years old, and that time was a kind of Hegira in her life ; everything dated from it. But he had still a long term of years to serve before he could claim a pension, and he died before the tale of service was completed. He had invested all that he had been able to put by out of a not very splendid income for his child. And the failure of the bank in which the money was lodged helped to bring about his death. His constitution, weakened by many years of Indian life, could not bear up against the shock. And an attack of fever coming on soon after, carried him off in a few days, leaving Nesta doubly orphaned and almost penniless.