Evelyn Howard: or, Early Friendships ... With ... illustrations

Preface

. vral GREAT deal has been said and written — too often BS truthfully — on the evanescent nature of early friendships, especially those formed at school. Many circumstances occur to create these school friendships between boys as well as girls. The absence from home and the close association with each other develop qualities which attract, from their very dis similarity, the clever and intellectual to the careless and frank-hearted ; the timid and gentle to the bold and daring. It is true that contact with the world often destroys these friendships, or years of absence make the youthful friends strangers in manhood and womanhood. Yet it is not always so. The author of the following pages has met with numerous instances in which the friendship of youth has lasted even to old age. When the kiss of welcome from the still unmarried school-friend to the mother of a numerous family has been given with as much warmth and sincerity as when the girlish schoolfellows had sworn eternal friendship. When the warm hand-shake and VI

PREFACE.

. the hearty words of welcome of the man of forty-five to his former school-fellow still retain as much of the genuine ring of sincerity as when they greeted each other in olden times. The families to whom the reader is introduced in the following pages are intended to form some illustration of these remarks. Most of the characters are drawn from life, and the incidents connected with the vow which Evelyn Howard's would-be lover forced her to take are, excepting in one or two trifling details, strictly true. And although the ocean separates some of these youthful friends, and others have been removed by death, yet the memory of those days is still fresh in the hearts of more than one of the characters mentioned in the story. The absent ones may perhaps say with Alexander Selkirk — " My friends, do they now and then send, A wish or a thought after me ?

Oh tell me I yet have a friend, Though that friend I am never to see." CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. SCHOOL-GIRL GOSSIP I II. FRANK HOWARD FINDS HIMSELF A HERO ... II III. EVELYN HOWARD AT HOME 23 IV. COLONEL KINGSFORD'S DECISION 33 v. Evelyn's first dinner-party 44 vi. snowballing 56 vn. whispered words 64 VIII. the painful discovery 71 IX. JULIA KINGSFORD'S STRATAGEM So X. THE WALK TO THE STATION 88 xi. Evelyn's feathered friends 95 XII. THE CROQUET PARTY 107 XIII. AGNES GRAY FINDS A NEW HOME 1 10. xiv. julia's suspicions 130 XV. MARY HOWARD IS PUZZLED I42 XVI. EVA REFUSES A

LETTER 155 XVII.

SULTAN l67 XVIII. CHRISTMAS IN INDIA 179 XIX. LETTERS FROM INDIA 187 XX. ON THE KING'S ROAD 197 XXI. THE WOUNDED OFFICER 209, XXII. WHO SHALL STAND BEFORE ENVY? 22 CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE XXIII. BROWNIE IS PROMOTED 233 XXIV. PRIDE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 245 XXV. GEORGE IN A NEW CHARACTER 255 XXVI. IN THE TEMPLE 269 XXVII. A PLEASANT ARRIVAL 279 XXVIII. AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE 290 XXIX. THE LIST IN THE " TIMES " 299 XXX. JULIA IN A NEW CHARACTER 3 10 XXXI. NEW FRIENDS 322 XXXII. MOONLIGHT 33! XXXIII. PARTING TO MEET AGAIN 342 XXXIV. MISS GRAY'S

LETTER 355 XXXV.

DYING WORDS 364 XXXVI. THE PHANTOM HORSEMAN 372 XXXVII. THE JOURNEY TO SIMLA 3S4. XXXVIII. A CRUEL NECESSITY 306 XXXIX. THE END OF A PICNIC 406 XL. "CALLED TO THE BAR" 4,7 XLI. MR. CARTER IN THE TEMPLE 428 XLII. FRANK HOWARD CAUSES A SENSATION . . . 435 XLIII. THE NINTH OF AUGUST 444 XLIV. THE VISITOR WHO DID NOT FORGET .... 454 XLV. MARRIAGE BELLS ,(,Q

Chapter I. School-girl Gossip

fin| YOUNG girl of seventeen stood at the window of llbyl a large and neatly furnished bedroom, looking out over the lovely prospect which presents itself on the heights above Plymouth and Devonport. A short distance to the right lay the church and rectory of Stoke Damerel, embosomed in trees. Still farther in the same direction, and lower down, could be seen the town of Devonport, and from that point west ward the eye rested on a succession of buildings which connect it with Stonehouse and Plymouth. Ellen Kingsford could see this large picturesque town, which, from the height at which she stood, appeared to be in the valley beneath her. Yet it is not all so. Parts of Plymouth near the sea lie considerably above it, over looking the Sound, which is bounded on the left by the promontory of Babbicombe, treeless but verdant, and on the right by the beautiful grounds of Mount Edg cumbe, descending in a gentle slope to the waters of the Hamoaze, which form the entrance to the river Tamar.

In this splendid harbour, bordered by Keyham and Devonport dockyards, many ships of war lay at anchor as well as in the Sound, where they are protected by the breakwater from the waves of the English Channel. The September morning was clear and fresh, and the waters of the Sound were dotted here and there with sailing boats, bounding and dancing over the crested waves on which the sunbeams sparkled. To their occupants the stiffening breeze was but the realization of the poet's words which Ellen Kingsford commenced singing— " I'm on the sea, I'm on the sea, I am where I would always be, With the blue above and the blue below, And silence wheresoe er I go. If a storm should arise and wake the deep, What matter ? I should ride and sleep." The young girl paused, for an arm was thrown round her, a head rested on her shoulder, while a voice ex claimed — " Oh, Ellen, how can you sing when you are going to leave this beautiful country and poor me all alone ?

I expect you will soon forget me now you are going home." " You wont be quite alone, Eva dear," was the reply, " with all your schoolfellows and your studies to employ your mind. I shall be forgotten first I expect." " How can you say such unkind things, Ellen ?" and the girl of fourteen flung herself away from her friend, and burst into passionate tears, sobbing out, " You are more likely to forget me, Ellen, in your happy home ! with your parents and young brothers and sisters ; but I have no home now papa is dead." Ellen Kingsford turned towards her friend, and, clasping her in her arms, drew her down by her side on the foot of the bed, exclaiming — " Dear Eva, I was only joking ; how could I forget you ? haven't we been friends ever since you came to this school two years ago ? Eva darling, nothing shall ever break our friendship, even if I were to be hundreds of miles away from you."

" Dearest Ellen," cried Eva, as she clung to her friend, " I know how kind you have always been to me, but I cannot help feeling unhappy at the thought of not seeing you again, for you don't even know yourself yet where your papa has taken a house since he left Ports mouth." " But I shall know to-day, Eva ; I expect a letter from mamma this morning, at all events ; it certainly would be very awkward to leave here to-morrow with out a home to go to ;" and the good-tempered girl laughed as she spoke. This prospect cheered Eva. Of course, if her friend continued true to her, they could write at any distance, and even visit each other easily. At this moment the breakfast-bell rang. "Come, Eva," exclaimed Ellen, "brighten up and bathe your eyes, or there will be no end of questions about you." Eva quickly followed her friend's advice, and the two girls went downstairs together school-girl fashion, with their arms round each other's waists, one of them at least feeling, deeply the approaching separation.

" School-girl friendships seldom last," is a saying too often verified. Young women, after leaving school, form new ties and new associations, which quickly scatter the romance of youthful fancies. The friends may meet B again in after years, but a change has. passed over the "spirit of the dream." In the matron, surrounded by her blooming boys and girls, or the maiden lady, who welcomes her old school friend with formal kindness, each fails to recognise in the other the truly loved friend of her youth. And the irrepressible sigh of regret arises in the heart for those happy days which can never, never return. Ellen Kingsford cast a hasty glance over the table as she entered the breakfast-room. Yes, there was a letter by her plate, but she could only seize it and, with a flush of pleasure, place it in her pocket.

School rules and school etiquette forbade her to open it then. Eva, seated next her friend, looked inquiringly at her, and Ellen had just time to whisper, " It's from mamma," when Miss Gray, the principal of the school, addressed her. " Is that letter from home, my dear ?" "Yes," replied Ellen — "at least, it is addressed in mamma's handwriting." Miss Gray said no more, but Ellen whispered, " I hope there's a cheque in my letter for her, that's all she wants to know." " Hush !" whispered Eva as she glanced at her governess ; yet she, as well as Ellen, could not help remembering how often Miss Gray had made the inquiry, " Has your papa decided on his future place of residence, Miss Kingsford?" "No, not yet, Miss Gray," had been Ellen's reply ; and, in spite of herself, she could not avoid a tone of resentment at a question which she considered prompted by curiosity or a grasping for money.

Young people can but seldom enter into or understand the trials and difficulties of their elders while they have every want supplied, and yet one cause of the anxiety shown by Miss Gray was not unknown to Ellen Kingsford. She had met with two serious losses during the first year of Ellen's school days, and Colonel Kingsford's punctuality she had always relied upon for certain payments. Hitherto he had sent a cheque direct to the lady herself, but on this morning no letter having arrived, her anxiety caused her to question Ellen. Breakfast among the young ladies at Penlee House was never a very long affair ; the hour after breakfast till half-past nine was their own ; they were not, there fore, likely to waste time at the table. Ellen and Eva, although the last to begin, were ready to rise with the others, all of whom had finished, except little Fanny Melville.

Ellen's looks of indignation made the poor child almost choke herself with her bread and butter in her haste. " My dear," said Miss Gray, " do not hurry yourself in that vulgar manner. — We will say grace, young ladies," she added ; " if Fanny is so slow she can remain alone and finish her breakfast properly." The young voices became silent while the quiet voice of their governess uttered the thanks for God's blessings which so seldom come from the heart, but are merely pronounced by what Mrs. Hannah More calls the "mechanical memory of the tongue." As the young ladies rose a housemaid appeared at the door of the room, and told her mistress she was wanted. Miss Gray flushed deeply as she followed the young woman, while the girls dispersed — some of them to their bedrooms, which they knew must be placed in order before they could call the time their own, and others to the garden.

" Who is it, Sarah ?" asked Miss Gray, when they had reached the private part of the house, from which the schoolrooms and dining-room were separated by green baize doors. " It's Morris, ma'am ; I told him you were at break fast, but he would wait ; he's in the library." With quick but anxious steps the refined and educated gentlewoman turned towards the library, and entered, knowing that a rich tradesman, who could easily have given a cheque for 700/., would pain her by uttering threats and taunts because she was not ready to pay him 7/., her quarter's account. " I am very sorry I am not prepared for you this morning, Mr. Morris," she said, " but I will try and let you have the money during the day. I told you of the great losses I suffered last year, and I have not yet recovered myself."

" I don't want no excuses, miss," he replied, roughly ; "you promised to pay me last week, be you a-going to pay me now, or be you not ? I beant gwine to stand this 'ere nonsense any longer ; if I don't get my money now, I stops the credit, that's all." " I only owe you one quarter, Mr. Morris," said the poor lady, gently ; " I have dealt with you for years, and I don't wish to open an account elsewhere." "You can't get credit elsewhere, ma'am," said the man, in a rude, scornful tone. Miss Gray was about to say she had been offered it, when a rather loud knock at the door startled them both. Instead of the usual words "Come in," Miss Gray rose, and opening it herself found Evelyn Howard looking confused and surprised ; but overcoming her confusion, she offered the lady a note, saying gently, " Ellen Kingsford has sent this, Miss Gray ; it is addressed to you ; it was in her mamma's letter."

How the anxious face changed and the voice softened as she replied, " Thank you, my dear Eva ; it was thoughtful of you to bring it to me at once." Eva ran back to the garden, where she had left Ellen, and Miss Gray, closing the door, opened the note and glanced at its contents. In a moment she saw that the cheque it contained had been drawn for more than four times the amount she owed Mr. Morris ; her courage returned, and she said quietly, " If you will send your account this afternoon, receipted, Mr. Morris, I will pay you the money I owe you." " She's got the money, I can see;" said the man to himself ; " I wish now I hadn't said so much, for she's been a good customer all these years. I'll come myself, ma'am," he said, " about four o'clock, if that will suit you ;" and as he turned to the door he wished her good morning in a tone very different from his former coarse ness and rude replies.

As soon as the door closed upon him Miss Gray seated herself to read Colonel Kingsford's letter. As she read her eyes at first brightened with pleasure and then filled with tears. The letter was in itself a testimonial of great value, and the cheque was drawn for a sum in round numbers which more than covered Ellen's school account and her travelling expenses. With a relieved and thankful heart she hastened to arrange her domestic duties in the household, and there we must leave her to follow Eva to the garden. After breakfast, Evelyn Howard and Ellen Kingsford, having already arranged their bedroom with neatness, had thrown on their hats and cloaks — for the air, as we know, was keen and fresh — and hastened to a rustic summer-house that stood in the shrubbery. Seating herself, Ellen drew out her letter, which had been all this time figuratively burning a hole in her pocket.

As she opened it the envelope fell to the ground, and Eva, picking it up, exclaimed, " Ellen, here's another letter, addressed to Miss Gray." " Oh, it's the cheque, I daresay," cried Ellen. " May I take it to her ?" asked Eva, remembering the whispered remark of her friend. "Yes, if you like, and I can read my letter while you are gone ; but make haste back, I shall have lots to tell you." Away ran Eva, and, as we know, gladdened the heart of her governess with the welcome letter ; but on her return she looked so grave that Ellen's exulting tone was stopped, and she exclaimed, anxiously, "What's the matter, Eva ?" " Oh, Ellen," she replied, " I will never laugh at poor Miss Gray about wishing for cheques again. You know that rough man, Morris, the baker." " Yes, well," exclaimed Ellen ; " was he with Miss Gray ?"

"Yes, indeed he was, and I heard him saying such rude things to her, and speaking so loudly, that I knocked twice before Miss Gray heard me ; and it was all about his money not being paid." " Poor thing, I'm glad the cheque came ; but I wonder what makes her so poor ?" " Oh, I heard her tell him, so gently, that she had lost a great deal of money last year." " Yes, she did ; I remember hearing papa mention it," said Ellen. " Oh ! it must be dreadful to have to work so hard for money, and then lose it." "Ah! but it's worse to be insulted by such a nasty, horrid man as that. I saw him standing by the table when Miss Gray opened the door, and he was looking so cross." "He only wanted his money, Eva, so we mustn't blame him too much ; but don't mention a word amongst the girls — I'm sure Miss Gray wouldn't like it."

" No, indeed I will not ; I'm too sorry for her," she replied. " Well, now we'll drop the miserables, and you shall hear the news. Oh, Eva ! you don't know how jolly it is." Eva seated herself with her arm round her friend, but at her first word started up in surprise. " What ! your papa has taken a house at Woodford ! Oh, Ellen, it is too good to be true !" " It is true, nevertheless," she replied ; " here, read for yourself." Eva leaned forward and read with surprise the pleasant information. " Eva," said Ellen, " do you know where a house called ' The Cedars' is situated ?" " Yes, indeed I do ; it is quite at the farther end of the village from my brother's house, which is down a pretty lane near the forest, and just before you enter Woodford ; but the town is not very large." " Oh, then we shall be able to see each other often in the holidays, and wont we enjoy ourselves !

And, Eva, my brother Ernest is coming home from Sandhurst at Christmas ; he's got his commission. I think you will like him." " I'm sure I shall be pleased with all your brothers and sisters, Ellen, if they are like you," said Eva. "Sisters!" laughed Ellen, "I've only one sister. Ernest and I are the nearest in age, for Julia is much older than either of us, and George, the youngest, is only twelve." " Ah, yes, I forgot," exclaimed Eva, remembering cer tain little anecdotes of this elder sister, which Ellen in the confidence of girlish friendship had related to her ; and a kind of fear arose in her heart as she remembered she should not have Ellen to herself when next they met. The sound of the school-bell roused her from these reflections, and the two girls hastened to present them selves.

On their appearance, Miss Gray called Ellen to her table, and said, " You need not remain in the school room to-day, my dear, as you are to leave by an early train to-morrow ; you had better commence packing your boxes. If you want help, ring for Sarah." " I would rather have Eva to help me, Miss Gray, if you will allow her," ventured Ellen. Miss Gray hesitated, but she smiled, and said at last, "Very well, if Eva is agreeable, I have no objection." Joyfully the two girls left the room together, and al though Miss Gray considered such close friendship between girls of seventeen and fourteen rather singular, she could scarcely wonder at it, for Ellen, though clever, well-informed, and full of animation, was as child-like in character as Eva, who in appearance .and manner looked quite as old, though not so tall as her friend.

Entirely unaware of the reflections of Miss Gray, the girls entered eagerly into the business of packing, some times, however, delayed by talk about the new home and the happy prospect of meeting again at Christmas.

Chapter II. Frank Howard Finds Himself

A HERO. jSJBp'MONG the English villages which, twenty years $$&$'. ago, had escaped the modernizing effects of a railway station, none were more picturesque than Woodford. Nestling as it did among the trees of Epping Forest, the houses in summer were almost hidden in some parts by their thick foliage. Standing back from the high road in one of these shady nooks, and overshadowed by lofty trees, the old fashioned church still remains a relic of olden times. These ancient buildings are often the only marks of antiquity which modernized villages and hamlets possess. Not far from Woodford church, at the time of which we write, stood a large old-fashioned red brick house, with numerous windows, the park by which it had once been surrounded being now laid out in pleasant gardens, orchards, and a playground.

The house had been known as the " Grammar School" for fifty years, and numerous schoolrooms and dormi tories had been added without much regard to uniformity; but this made the irregular pile of buildings more attrac tive and picturesque. In those days, however, the number of boarders had been large, and the terms such as would be a ruinous loss in the present day, when the most useful articles of food and housekeeping are at such fearful prices. Dr. Mason, whose name only appeared on the large iron gate at the entrance, had been able during his time to raise the terms, and consequently the numbers were less ; but the boys were older and of a superior class, and the domestic arrangements, under the control of the Doctor's unmarried daughter, were on a much higher scale of comfort. Dr. Mason, although what is called one of the old school in his style of teaching and discipline, had no narrow-minded prejudices against modern plans of edu cation.

His masters were men possessing tact and aptness to teach, which he considered of far more importance in a school than mere university honours. Yet he did not pretend to despise the value of a classical education in those masters who assisted him, and he was well able to judge, having attained honours himself, and being highly respected as a man of talent and erudition. The knowledge that Dr. Mason had the grammar school at Woodford formed a strong inducement to Colonel Kingsford to settle there. His youngest son, George, was to remain at boarding-school till Christmas ; but as his mother was anxious to have her youngest child at home, his father decided to send him to Dr. Mason's. He wished to give the boy a trial as a daily pupil, and " The Cedars" being a pleasant and suitable residence, the Colonel at once fixed upon Woodford as a place in which to spend the last quiet days of his life.

Dr. Mason still adhered to the old-fashioned plan of holidays at Christmas and Midsummer, and divided the scholastic year into four quarters. It was during the quarter between Midsummer and the September in which Ellen Kingsford left school that the circumstances occurred which gave rise to the words which head this chapter. During the months of August and September the boys of Woodford House generally went into the forest once a week on a kind of picnic expedition, which was always looked forward to as a great treat. The hour for starting was three o'clock, and they were accompanied by the Doctor and his daughter, with two at least of the masters and two servants. A lad followed with a donkey-cart containing tea, sugar, bread, cakes, jam, and all sorts of good things suitable for the occasion.

At about two miles from Woodford one of those breaks in the forest occurred which resemble in their scarcity an oasis in the desert. A clear space, carpeted with bright green turf, spread ing over more than an acre of ground, and surrounded on all sides by the forest trees, was indeed a delightful spot for cricket, football, or other active games. And advantages of another kind were not wanting. The space of ground to which Dr. Mason led his pupils had evidently been cleared in olden times, whether by nature or man could not now be ascertained. The ruins of a noble mansion, scattered over one portion of the ground, spoke, however, of protection or concealment sought in troublous times. Certainly no barricade more impenetrable could be found against invading foes than these monarchs of the forest, with their spreading foliage and interlaced branches.

Nothing, however, remained now, except a part of the ivy-clad ruins which had been made habitable. In this picturesque building, with its lattice windows, thatched roof, and rose-covered porch, lived an old couple with their son and daughter. The ground behind the house and on each side of it also belonged to them, and cows, chickens, pigeons, and pigs made the space fenced in from the rest a complete farmyard. On one of the trees hung a board, on which appeared a notice that parties visiting the forest could be furnished with hot water, cups, saucers, plates, knives and forks, &c, for a moderate charge ; and also that milk, cream, butter, and eggs were for sale. The old man, whose name was Bean, had been a sailor, and a great attraction to visitors was a large inverted boat, raised on a kind of platform of bricks, and reached by wooden steps.

In this boat small parties took tea in old-fashioned china cups, which had belonged to old Bean's mother, and from which the tea always appeared to have a more fragrant taste. In this un common tea parlour, on the day on which we write, Miss Mason made tea for the Doctor and her sister with two of her children, after first attending to the boys. Long tables were arranged in the open field, or under sheds for large tea parties. The boys, of course, preferred the open air, and greatly enjoyed their tea, the housemaid and footman waiting upon them under Miss Mason's direction. Piles of bread and butter, bread and jam, and cake were disposed of. Huge jugs of milk disappeared, and no wonder, for the fresh air, the active movements, the swings, cricket, and football were cal culated to produce tremendous appetites.

Dr. Mason's little grandchildren, boys of six and eight, were at length so tired, that their mother resolved to let them ride home in the donkey-cart with Jane the housemaid, to their great delight. Mrs. Ashton had been petitioned to bring her two little girls, one three years old and the other five, but she feared to do so. " They are too young to walk so far," she said ; " and even if they could ride, they would become sleepy and cross before eight o'clock." It was past eight o'clock, however, before the cart, with the empty baskets, the two little boys, and the servants, could start to return home by the road. In another half-hour the young people formed into double file, walking two and two, the elder ones leading them by a pathway across the forest and beneath the over hanging trees. In a few moments there sounded through its leafy retreats the tones of glees, madrigals, and part-songs, taught to the boys by their junior Latin master, who led them now.

On they walked, while the crimson rays of the setting sun still lingered amongst the branches, the walk some times becoming a march, as their feet kept time to the music. One after another the old harmonious strains of Dr. Arne and Purcell followed in succession. Sweetly sounded the clear young voices in the still evening air while the shadows deepened around them. Now and then they came upon an opening, or the forest path widened, till they arrived within a mile of home. Here was another clear space, something like old Bean's territory, but with trees scattered here and there upon it, and after crossing a road on high ground, a pathway over three fields, separated by stiles, led to the Woodford road. The boys in advance had reached this spot, Frank Howard, the junior master, still leading the singing, when the music suddenly ceased.

" There's a fire at Woodford, Mr. Howard !" was the general cry. Rank and file broke up ; some ran back to the Doctor, others stood still in alarm. "Walk quietly on with the boys, will you, Mr. Parker ?" said Dr. Mason to his head master ; " they will attend to you, and we must not allow them to separate." Then he turned to his daughters, who in vague fear were hurrying on. They reached the first stile quickly, and while standing together, Frank Howard exclaimed in a low tone — " Let me run on, Dr. Mason, and ascertain where the fire is ; it will relieve the ladies if I can return and remove all cause for fear." " Yes, go, go," said the Doctor ; and Frank, needing no farther permission, started off at a rapid rate. At the second stile he met a man running in a contrary direction. " Where is the fire ?" shouted Frank, as they passed each other almost without pausing.