A Loyal Mind

Front matter

A L O Y A L MIND. a A LOYAL MIND BY ELEANOR C. PRICE AUTHOR OF 'A LOST BATTLE," "BED TOWERS," "GERALD," "ALEXIA," ETC. " A tender heart, a loyal mind.' tLmtium REMINGTON & CO., PUBLISHERS HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C. CONTENTS. CHAPTEE I. PAQK TOM AND HIS MOTHER, ..... 1 CHAPTEE II. THE HOUSE OF ETHELSTON, ..... 6 CHAPTEE III. THE NEW RECTOR, ...... 18 CHAPTEE IV. IN EASTMARSH, ....... 28 CHAPTEE V. MRS LANDOR, ....... 37 CHAPTEE VI. IN THE EVENING, . . . . .49 CHAPTEE VII. LILY WADE, ....... 53 CHAPTEE VIII. THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE, ..... 63 CHAPTEE IX. A FAMILY PARTY, ...... CONTENTS. VI CHAPTEE X. FAQI ENGAGED, ....... 81 CHAPTEE XI. SUNDAY MORNING, ...... 92 CHAPTEE XII. SUNDAY AFTERNOON, ...... 100 CHAPTEE XIII. GERTRUDE, . . . . . . .110 CHAPTEE XIV. ANNIE DANE, . . . . . . .117 CHAPTEE XV.

DIFFERING VIEWS, ...... 128 CHAPTEE XVI. HARRY'S TRIAL, . . . . . . .137 CHAPTEE XVII. A FLATTERING TALE, ...... 147 CHAPTEE XVIII. HETTY'S ADVENTURE, . . . . . .155 CHAPTEE XIX. FRESH FIELDS, ....... 163 CHAPTEE XX. REVENGE, . . . , . , . 17fi CHAPTEE XXI. RISING CLOUDS, ....... \gc, CONTENTS. VII CHAPTEE XXII. PAGK ANSWERED, ... .... 195 CHAPTEE XXIII. SISTERS AND BROTHER, ...... 200 CHAPTEE XXIV. A DISMAL VICTORY, ...... 207 CHAPTEE XXV. HERBERT'S LETTER, ...... 215 CHAPTEE XXVI. OAKLANDS, ....... 223 CHAPTEE XXVII. REFUGE, ........ 239 CHAPTEE XXVIII. ALBERT, ........ 247 CHAPTEE XXIX. WARNING, . . . ... . . 256 CHAPTEE XXX. AFTER MOONRISE, ...... 262 CHAPTEE XXXI. CAUGHT AND FREE, ...... 266 CHAPTEE XXXII. WHITE SAXON, ....... 279 CHAPTEE XXXIII. mrs crowe's daughter, ..... CONTENTS. VIII CHAPTEE XXXIV.

FASB MR LYON, . . 295 Jf- CHAPTEE XXXV. HO peace, ....••• 302 CHAPTEE XXXVI. " TO THE WILD WOOD AND THE DOWNS," .... 309 CHAPTEE XXXVII. AN OLD STORY, ....... 320 CHAPTEE XXXVIII. pity, ........ 329 CHAPTEE XXXIX. CHECKED, ....... 337 CHAPTEE XL. THE EVKNING, ....... 343 CHAPTEE XLI. MARGARET, ....... 349 CHAPTEE XLI I. tom's fate, ....... 357 CHAPTEE XLIII. Margaret's visit, .... 362 CHAPTEE XLIV. "ound, • • • 369 CHAPTEE XLV. A NEW BEGINNING, .... 3^3

Chapter I. Tom And His Mother

" I knocked, and the sweetest voice I had ever heard said, ' Come in.' .... But the moment I saw her eyes, I no longer wondered at her voice." — George MacDonald. A London lodging on a November afternoon ought not, according to tradition, to be very cheerful. But in pleasant contrast Avith the thick fog out of doors, a large tire was burning brightly, playing in the most becoming manner on the dark paper and the heavy, ugly furniture. It is true that they Avere the only things in the room that wanted any flattery. There was a stand of flowers in the window ; there Avere several good photographs on the walls ; there were- Mudie books lying on the table ; and Vallauris jars, in the loveliest dead-greens and blues and yellows, ornamenting the chimney -piece. There was an open piano with music on it, and a pile of songs beside it.

But the room was empty ; the most living thing was an unopened letter that lay waiting on the table, square and thick, and directed in a fine bold hand to the Rev. Thomas Landor. In a few minutes a young man came in, took up the letter, looking at it with some interest, and walked across to the fire to warm himself and read it. He was not really a handsome young man, though there Avas somebody who thought him so, and one hardly likes to A contradict her. He Avas tall enough, perhaps five feet ten, with a brown complexion and dark eyes. He had a good deal of dark hair, brushed straight across a rather clever forehead; but the rest of his features were plain, and he wore no beard or moustache. It was, in fact, something of a nut-cracker face, Avith a long nose and a prominent chin. But the person who admired him thought — and here, perhaps, she Avas not so far _ wrong — that the expression of his face Avas perfect in its clever refinement, and that his smile was the SAveetest ever seen.

" Mother ! " he cried, and she came into the room almost directly. " Ah, Tom," she said, " I didn't know you Avere come back. Have you seen your letter ? " " Yes, and read it too," said the young man. " Did you know who it was from? " "No ; somebody with a very pretty crest." "Herbert Ethelston. I knew him at college — don't you remember? Our rooms Avere next door to each other. What do you think he has Avritten to me about ? " " To offer you a living? " Tom looked at her, smiling. " Why should it be me? " he said. " Why not some fellow with a wife and a dozen children, or some old man Avho wants rest, or some popular preacher, or some great man's nephew ? Why not any one of those, instead of me?" " Mr Ethelston knows ; I don't," said his mothei*. " Seriously, though, shall you accept it ?

Let me see the letter." She sat down in an arm-chair, and watched Tom's face as he stood in the firelight and read it to her. But before reading it he looked at her again. " Who told him I Avanted to Avrite a book ? " he said. " And our politics were not the same." " My dear Landor,— I was glad to hear through George Browne that you had got over your illness, and had been able to take a London curacy. I should have thought, however, that country work would have suited you better than that sort of thing, but I can well believe that you would hesitate before burying yourself in a country village— such as they generally are. I am now going to pro- TOM AND HIS MOTHER 3 pose to you something which seems to me as if it might suit you well. Our old rector, Mr Vernon, has lately died. I have not sought far for a successor to him, as it occurred to me at once that if you would do me the favour of accepting the living of Aiding, it would be an arrangement most agreeable to us, and I hope pleasant to yourself.

The value of the living is £800 a year. There is a convenient old house, a good garden, and twenty acres of glebe. The rectory is two miles from Eastmarsh, half a mile from the church, and a mile and a half from my house. "We shall be very glad if you and Mrs Landor, whom I had the pleasure of seeing once, will come down to us for a day or two, and look at the place. Come on Monday. I will meet you by any train you like. — Yours very truly, " Herbert Ethelston." " Who are ' we ' ? Is he married ? " said Mrs Landor. " No. He lives with his two sisters. The eldest brought him up, I believe. He always seemed to have a respect for her. Will you go there on Monday ? " "No, Tom, thank you. They don't want me. You can go alone. I shall make acquaintance with them by and-by — that is, if you mean to accept."

" Well, mother ? Fresh air, and within a few miles of the sea." "Yes — and roses." " Books and quiet.'' " FoavIs and ducks.' '■ A cow." " A greenhouse." '* Smock-frocks." " Red cloaks and poke bonnets." " Now 3*ou are getting unreasonable," said Tom, " and fancying that the Eastern Counties and the Middle Ages mean the same thing, which they don't. But certainly there are advantages." "Compensations, I should call them." "What for?" " For living in the same parish with the man who Avrote that letter, and his sisters. They are stupid, narroAv-minded people. Because I am a curate's mother, they take me for an old goody, on whom they need not Avaste their politeness." Tom laughed. " Well, I don't know the ladies, but Ethelston was not stupid or narrow. He took a good degree, besides being a first-rate athlete and all that sort of thing, and one of the handsomest fellows you ever saw."

"He does me the honour to pretend to remember me," said Mrs Landor, " and I remember him. I saw him for half a minute once at Paddington. A monster, with fair hair." " One of the finest fellows in the University," said Tom. " But it depends on you. Shall I go, or not ? " " Go ! Of course," said his mother. " Isn't it what we have both been longing for, and in my heart I'm as grateful to Mr Ethelston as you are. He doesn't say how many people there are, in that business-like letter of his, but I suppose all country parishes are much the same, and you are sure to be able to manage them by yourself, from the very slowness of their ways. He says nothing about a curate." " I couldn't have a curate," said Tom, in some consternation. His mother smiled. "If he is necessary, I must manage him for you," she said.

Then she took Herbert Ethelston's letter and read it over again to herself. It crossed Tom's mind, as he watched her, that it would be a misfortune if Miss Ethel ston was a lady fond of patronising. HoAvever, she would soon find out that his mother was not a subject for it. Mrs Landor was a person who could not be easily overlooked, in whatever society she happened to be found. She had married very young, and was only eighteen years older than her son, who Avas now about twenty-seven. She was a tall woman, with thick bright brown hair, a clear, rosy complexion, pretty features, and fine dark blue eyes, with black lashes, unusually long and thick. She generally looked grave, and had a slightly off-hand manner, which surprised people. One of the most charm ing things about her was her voice, always musical and sweet, even when she raised it, as she sometimes did, to express opinions with her usual frank decision.

On these occasions a very slight Irish accent was perceptible. She also moved her hands about, when she was speaking, TOM AND HIS MOTHER 5 more than Englishwomen generally do ; but she Avas not in any Avay an Englishwoman. Her father Avas Irish, and her mother French ; she had only connected herself with England by marrying Captain Landor, who had died years ago, leaving her with one boy, Tom. Some of Captain Landor's friends felt rather anxious about the future of this boy, having only known his mother as a gay young beauty, whose strength of character had been chiefly shown in the eagerness and spirit Avith Avhich she amused herself. The very frankness of her nature, which at that time was mixed with thoughtlessness, made her some enemies. They said she was fast, and that she flirted. But her friends who knew her best laughed at these accusations, which, indeed, took their rise from two things in Mrs Landor's history — her being very fond of animals, and a good and fearless horsewoman — and her liking, and being liked by clever, agreeable men.

For some reason, at any rate, the steadiest of Captain Landor's brother officers, with their wives, disapproved of little Tom's mother, and bestowed a great deal of pity on him. Tom had always been a delicate child, and they pictured him neglected and left to the care of servants, Avhile his mother went out to parties, and amused herself with her equally careless friends. " Of course she Avill marry again directly," they said. " Poor Landor ! and he was so fond of her." This last fact, Avhich everybody confessed, might at least have made them suspect that they were wrong about Bessie Landor's character. Her husband had been a quiet, shy sort of man, and to both him and little Tom she was the very sunshine of life. It was not in any spirit of deep repentance that, after her husband's death, she gave up all her former amusements, never wishing to return to them.

It was only because she did not care for them any more; her energies were suddenly turned into another channel. With very faint regrets, except those that connected them with her former life, she sold her horses and dogs, and bent all the love and strength of her nature to make happiness for the one creature left to her — little, nervous, delicate Tom. He was a difficult child to bring up successfully, being odd and excitable, and in many parts of his character, — such as his sudden, wild enthusiasms, — more like a girl than a boy. He was very clever, and learning was no trouble to him, though he seldom worked hard, except at those things — such as languages — for which he had a special fancy. He never went to school, but was taught by his mother till he went to a tutor and from him to college.

There he was very happy, worked harder than most men for three years, took a first-class, and was ordained. He had always meant to be a clergyman, partly because he liked the study of human beings, but now that he had reached his end, his overtaxed strength suddenly gave way, and the doctors said that Tom Landor would have died, a few months after his ordina tion, if it had not been for his mother's wonderful nursing. As soon as he was well enough to travel, she took him to the south of France, and they liA*ed at Cannes for about three years, making long excursions now and then into Italy, and waiting patiently for the time — perhaps Tom longed for it more than his mother did — when he would be strong enough to go back to the land of work, and take his place in the ranks with other men. At last that time came, and his experience in a London curacy, now brought to a sudden and not unpleasant end by Herbert Ethelston's letter.

Chapter II. The House Of Ethelston

1 Where is the maiden of mortal strain That may match with the Baron of Triermain ? She must be lovely, and constant, and kind, Holy and pure, and humble of mind, Blithe of cheer, and gentle of mood, Courteous, and generous, and noble of blood. . . . Such must her form be, her mood, and her strain, That shall match with Sir Roland of Triermain ! " WHEN Monday afternoon arrived, Mr Ethelston was not quite so ready to go and meet his friend Tom Landor at the station. Some neighbours had walked in to luncheon at Aiding Place, and since then the young men had been teaching the ladies to play billiards. Herbert had devoted himself exclusively to the girl he admired most, who did not even know how to hold her cue. It began to rain at two o'clock, and persevered in a steady downpour. " Why can't you send the brougham for Mr Landor ?

What is the use of going yourself when you have plenty to do at home ? " said the younger Miss Ethelston aside to her brother. " The brougham is going, because the felloAv might catch cold, but I'm going in it," replied Herbert. " I told him I would meet him myself. It happens to be a bore, but that is no reason — " " Conscientious ! " said his sister, half to herself and half to their friend James Harvey, who was standing close to her. " Herbert's Aveak point," said he smiling. The elder Miss Ethelston came up and joined the group at this moment — a tall, fair, grey-eyed woman of seven or eight-and-thirty, distinguished in looks and manners, though without her brother's personal beauty. " You are going, Herbert ? " she said. " I have been telling Miss Lydiard that if they will stay till you come back, Ave shall be so glad to send them home."

" Of course. I thought of it too," said Herbert, and he walked off to press the invitation. " It may amuse them to see the little parson ; new faces are rare in these parts," said the younger sister. Miss Ethelston looked at her earnestly for a moment, " It is a pity to make a laughing-stock of him before he comes," she said. " Don't be angry with us ; it is Herbert's fault," said James Harvey. " He dreAV such a vivid picture of Landor reading for his degree, Avith strong coffee at his elbow, aud wet cloths round his head, scarlet cheeks, dark circles round his eyes, etc. Then the grand scene of victory — exhausted hero carried off the field by his mother, to recruit for long years on the shore of a balmy sea. We were affected to tears. But Avhen Ave heard he was coming here as rector, the reaction of our over strained nerves was such that we laughed."

Miss Ethelston listened graciously, with a slight, in dulgent smile. She was never angry Avith James Harvey — a privileged person there. Then she looked out of the window and sighed. " Poor man ! " she said. " No one will ever make up to us for the loss of Mr Vernon." " Why do you have such a whippersnapper, with no experience? " said James Harvey. "It was Herbert's wish," said Miss Ethelston. "Gertrude and I, no doubt, would have preferred an older man." " I should think so ! " said Gertrude. " Fancy being teased by a curate! He will turn the parish upside down." " Still, a man of that sort would not be Herbert's friend," said her sister. Herbert was standing at the other end of the billiard table, persuading the three visitors to wait for his return. Two of them stood a little apart — a small, dark, sun burnt young man, and a small girl like a pretty china doll — more interested in each other than in him.

And yet Herbert Ethelston was not at all a person to be despised. Tom Landor had not said a word too much of his good looks. He was a fine, noble-looking fellow, fair, with straight, handsome features, and the figure of an athlete. People who cared for expression might have said that his face was too quiet and set, too much the con ventional, handsome Englishman, who finds most things a bore, and is given to a sort of solid magnificent dandyism belonging to him alone — a man Avhose grandest qualities lie dormant, until, if he is fortunately in the army, he finds himself in front of the enemy's guns. But Herbert Ethelston was not in the army, and had never beeu known to complain of his lot. And it was a very pleasant one — a country gentleman Avith a fine house and estate, a large fortune, and manageable tenants.

He went to town with his sisters in the spring ; did everything an English gentleman ought to do, and nothing he ought not ; lived in perfect satisfaction with himself and his surroundings, and walked with the air of a king among men. There AA*as something more than usual in his face that afternoon as he stood looking down into the sweet face of Miss Lydiard's cousin, Henrietta Stewart. He was a man not much attracted by girls, and during the last six or seven years fashionable mothers had spread their nets for him in vain. Like many young men of his kind, he moved under a delusion that every lady of his acquaintance wanted either to marry him herself, or to catch him for some one else ; and no doubt, in his case, this idea was built on a foundation of truth. He was therefore very cautious in his attentions, and had till noAV gone on quite securely under the guard of his sisters, who were quite as careful of him as he could be of himself.

At the same time, they all three intended that he should marry some day; but before that could happen, perfection must be found, and Avhere Avas she? Gertrude saw charming girls now and then who might do, she thought : they had family, money, good looks, and lively manners: but Margaret and Herbert Avere more fastidious than Gertrude, and had not yet met with their ideal. The Ethelston fortress Avas still untaken, when, early in the autumn of this year, some quite new characters appeared in the neighbourhood of Aiding. The Miss Ethelstons did not, by any means, encourage all their country neighbours to be intimate with them. One of the favoured exceptions was Mrs Bell, the widow of a rich old Indian, who lived in a very smart modern house called the Villa, looking doAvn on the town of East marsh.

That summer she had been visited by her nephew, Captain Bell, at home on leave from India. It was an understood thing that he had come home to look for a wife, and in fact, after a very short search, he found one at Scarborough, where he met Miss Lydiard at two or three balls, danced with her a great deal, and wrote to tell his aunt that hewas engaged to the sweetest girl in the world, and intensely happy. Mrs Bell, who hated trouble, was very glad that her nephew had arranged this affair for himself without consulting her. She wrote back her full approval, and soon after, at his request, asked Miss Lydiard and her belongings to stay with her at the Villa. Constance Lydiard was an only child, and her mother was a widow. They were very lively and sociable people. With them came an orphan niece of Mrs Lydiard's, whose home had been with them for several years.

This was Henrietta Stewart, who had walked to Aiding this wet November day with Captain Bell and Conny, not feeling herself de trop, because she was happily conscious of the welcome waiting for her there. Miss Ethelston was very curious about Henrietta Stew art's history, and had asked as many questions as she decently could of Mrs Bell, who Avas almost too lazy to pass them on to Mrs Lydiard. She ascertained, however, that Henrietta's father had been a captain in the navy, that her mother was a Fitzgerald of Geraldstown, and that she had £200 a year of her own. Miss Ethelston, an odd mixture of romance and worldliness, had taken a fancy to the girl, and felt disposed to be satisfied Avith these dis coveries. The Lydiards were nothing much, it was plain, though Conny had a pretty face and a trim little figure, set off by Mrs Lydiard's good taste in dress, which was an advantage to both the girls.

But Henrietta might have been anybody: she certainly was somebody. Miss Ethel ston felt sure of that from the first moment she saw her, and was fortified by Herbert's opinion. She was a good deal taller than her cousin, and singularly graceful, with a long throat and pretty shoulders, and a turn of the head which was at least half her charm. Her soft brown hair Avas pushed back behind perfect little ears ; she had a delicate rosy complexion, and shady-looking eyes of no particular colour, Avith more feeling and expression in them than she quite knew Avhat to do Avith. Perhaps, however, the chief charm of her face was the happiness in it — the smile of trust and content Avhich greeted those who were kind to her. She had never found the Avorld cold, or false, or unkind ; it was full of friends ; as for disagreeable people, they were not worth thinking or caring about.

She Avas glad she Avas pretty, because it seemed to make people fond of her ; but in fact, though she knew her figure was the best of the tAvo, she preferred Constance's appearance to her own, and did not at all wonder Avhen other people — Captain Bell, for instance — did so too. Conny was so mignonne, such a dear little thing, with her blue eyes and lovely skin. Hetty accepted, with great delight, any share of admiration that came to her, but she was always inclined to put her cousin first. This was well for the peace of the household, for such generous unself ishness was not in Conny's way. All past enjoyments, Avatering-place balls, and so on, became very stupid in Hetty's recollection when they were compared with the real delightfulness of finding herself a popular guest at Aiding Place, studied Avith deep interest by Miss Ethelston, patronised by Gertrude, — that was the least pleasant part, — and talked to Avith distinctly admiring looks by the stately Herbert.

It was a serious trial that he should have to leave off teaching her billiards, and go aAvay to the station to meet this tire some friend of his. "I'm so sorry," said Herbert. "But Landor has never been here before, you know, and I promised to meet him. I ought to keep my word — don't you think so ? ' ' " Yes, you must," said Hetty Stewart decidedly. " I am glad you agree with me. I thought you would. Noav you must be tired of this. My sister Avauts you to go into the drawing-room. And mind, if the sun comes out, you are not to think of going aAvay till I come back." " Do you think there is any danger? " said Hetty, Avith her happy smile, as she glanced out at the steady tor rent which was running in yelloAV streams along the gravel. "No, I don't suppose there is," said Herbert, "But it is best to be prepared for emergencies, you see."

He went out immediately afterwards. Miss Ethelston came up to Hetty, and led her into the drawing -room, where she made her sit doAvn by a little table, pulled open a drawer, and began showing her some old family minia tures aud other curiosities. She talked in a low voice about these things, bringing in sketches from the history of several distinguished people. Hetty listened with some reverence, for she admired Miss Ethelston very much, and seemed to begin to understand what a fine thing it was to belong to an old family like this, who had kept up their importance and lived in the same place all through English history. James Harvey once said that no matter whose reign you were to bit upon, Margaret Ethelston could tell you an anecdote of her an cestor who lived in that reign ; but James Harvey was irreverent and wicked, and after all, though he might talk in this strain, he showed no other outward sign of disrespect to the Ethelstons.

Hetty was very happy among the miniatures, though she could not quite remember the distinction between great and great -great -grandmothers. She cared more for the present, and was satisfied with looking up from the pretty painted ladies to their descendant, graceful and soft-eyed, Avho turned them over with her long white fingers so daintily, and seemed to understand, even she, that living faces might be the most interesting. At least, when she looked at Hetty, and Hetty looked at her, they both realised, somehow, that the miniatures Avere chiefly an excuse for sitting in this nice corner near the fire, and leaving the other people to entertain them selves. Not that Miss Ethelston could have neglected any of her guests; but the others had gone to the farther end of the room, where the piano stood.

Gertrude Ethelston was beginning to play and sing ; she had a good deal of voice, and it sounded grandly in the large high room. Mr Harvey and the engaged couple Avere admiring listeners. Gertrude was not at all like her sister, except in height and fairness. She had strong features, rather handsome, and a somewhat knock-me-down manner, Avhich made her a much more difficult person to approach than the gentler Margaret. Yet she was, and always had been, Herbert's playfellow, while Margaret was his counsellor. Gertrude Avas now four-and-thirty, and for the last few years had carried on a sort of flirtatious friendship with James Harvey. Other people wondered, and so perhaps did she, whether this was ever to come to anything more. Mar garet Avould have been anxious, if she had thought that her sister's feelings were at all deeply interested in the matter.

But from year to year it went on much the same. James Harvey, who was a baronet's second sou, and a barrister without much to do, spent a great part of his time with the Ethelstons. He was a clever man, and a useful friend for Herbert ; they would have found it diffi cult to do without him. He always seemed to consider himself Gertrude's especial property. That afternoon, as he stood by and turned over her leaves, his eyes wandered curiously several times to the fireside corner where Mar garet was sitting with her new protigie. " Miss Wade sings that," remarked Captain Bell to Miss Lydiard, when Gertrude had struck the closing chord of her song. " And very badly too," said Constance. " Who's Miss Wade ? " asked Gertrude, turning round on her music-stool. " That song wants great power of voice, especially in the low notes."