On Golden Hinges. A novel

Front matter

ON GOLDEN HINGES 6s/. Unifortn with this Volume, price js. AN EVIL REPUTATION. 2S. 6d. cloth, and paper boards, zs. FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW. THE VICAR'S GOVERNESS. BENEATH THE WAVE. ANNABEL'S RIVAL. LADY SEFTON'S PRIDE. QUITE TRUE. THE BROKEN SEAL. CRŒSUS'S WIDOW. HIDDEN IN MY HEART. JEZEBEL'S FRIENDS. JAMES DAUNTON'S FATE. Paper, is. " A whirling storm of snow and hail swept right In her face. She stopped to breathe, and as she did so gave a short and joyful cry, for, through the white blinding blast around her, she perceived approaching her the figure of a man. '--Page 2. ON GOLDEN HINGES H 1Rov>el. BY DORA RUSSELL, AUTHOR OF "FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW,' "ANNABEL'S RIVAL,' "THE TRACK OF THE STORM," &c, &c. NEW EDITION IN ONE VOLUME. LONDON : GRIFFITH, FARRAN & CO., NEWBERY HOUSE, 39, CHARING CROSS ROAD The Rights of Translation and of Reproduction are Reserved.} CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGE I. TWO WOMEN I II. A mother's warning 17 III. KATHARINE DESPARD 27 IV. WHAT THE LAWYER SAID 37 V. FRANCIS DESPARD 42 VI. ben's GOSSIP ....... 54 VII. AT THE FARM 59 VIII. AT THE HALL . . . . . 70 IX. RICHARD RIDDELL 77 X. A BAD BUSINESS SS XI. A TRTST I02 XII. A VAIN STRUGGLE 122 XIII. GRAHAM'S COAT I2S XIV. BEN I38 XV. THE LAST OF HER 148 XVI. MAKING THE BEST OF IT 156 xvii. graham's resolve 166 xviii. a sad story 173 XIX. COUNTRY TALK 180 XX. DOROTHY S LETTER I92 XXI. BUYING HORSES - 201 XXII. THE FARMER'S OATH 217 XXIII. MRS. FRYER 228 XXIV. WORK 239 XXV. WARNED CONTENTS. VI CHAPTER PAGE XXVI. A MIGHTIER HAND 259 XXVII. AMONG THE TOMBS 265 XXVIII. A PURCHASE 274 XXIX. A FIT OF PASSION 283 XXX. THE DRIFTING CURRENT 293 XXXI. BY THE RIVER ....... 3°° XXXII. MOONLIGHT ON THE THAMES .... 314 XXXIII.

A SHADOW FROM THE PAST .... 328 XXXIV. THE NEW FAN 3<M XXXV. HAUNTED 349 XXXVI. NEW FRIENDS 365 XXXVII. A PROPOSAL 37S XXXVIII. AN ESPECIAL CORRESPONDENT .... 39O XXXIX. FARE THEE WELI 4OO XL. CHRISTMAS AT CASTLE HILL .... 4IO XLI. CHRISTMAS AT KORTI ..... 422 XLII. TRUE LOVE 430 XLIII. A WAIF OF THE BATTLE 44O XLIV. THE OLD LOVE 448 XLV. NEWS OF BATTLE 457 XLVI. WINNY'S PRAYER 463 XLVII. THE BITTER TRUTH 47 1 XLVIII. WHAT DOROTHY SAID 480 XLIX. BY THE NILE 488 L. THE LAST MARCH 494 LI. DYING TEARS

Chapter I. Two Women

It was bitter winter weather; a white mist floated over the half-frozen river Dill, and the bleak Northumbrian hills from which it flows were snow-capped. The air was dense and chill, yet down by the river bank, where the dark water " flowed and moaned," just as the short day closed, a young girl stood wait ing impatiently in the twilight. It was a wild and lonely trysting-place. Here the Dill sweeps into a narrow and secluded Men, where in the summer time the green boughs wave over the deep stream. But now on the over-hanging, craggy banks the leafless trees stood gaunt and bare, stretching their black arms against the dark ening sky. The girl grew frightened as the gloom increased, and the wind passed and waved the branches to and fro. Suddenly a B fiercer blast swept overhead, the trees rocked and moaned, the Dill responded with a sullen roar, and big, sharp hailstones came pattering to the ground.

They fell on the girl's pale upturned face, they cut the delicate skin. She gave a little cry, and drew the hood of her cloak over her hat, and then, after one long and lingering glance around, she turned unwillingly to quit the glen. ' Up the river bank, through the faded bracken, and the dank, frozen moss, and the bare trunks lying here and there, she now made her way. At the head of the ravine was a narrow pathway, with tall slender trees on either side, and beyond this path was a stretch of bleak moorland, cold and dismal under the gloomy sky. As the girl left the shelter of the trees, a whirling storm of snow and hail swept right in her face. It almost blinded her ; her grey cloak flapped and flew in the air, and she was nearly carried off her feet by the violence of the wind. She stopped to breathe, and as she did so gave a short and joyful cry, for through the white blinding blast around her she now per ceived approaching her the figure of a man.

"Graham!" she cried. "Graham!" and ran forward panting into a pair of out stretched arms. ' My poor little woman, "answered Graham, with some tenderness in his voice and man ner, " I never expected to see you out in a storm like this." " Oh ! why have you been so late ?" said the girl, still clinging to him, and looking up appealingly in his face. " I have waited nearly an hour in Dill dene, in the bitter cold." " I am so sorry, Winny, but I could not get before ; my mother has a lady staying with her, and she asked me to take her out for a drive this afternoon, and it was past four when we got back to Dillford, and I thought by that time you were certain to have gone home on a night like this — yet I came to see." The girl's head drooped, but still she rested it against his breast. " You think of everyone before me," she said, in a low tone.

" What nonsense, Winny ; don't take such follv into your head. Why, you foolish little girl, you are not crying surely, are you ?" he added quickly, and he lifted up her pale pretty little face by putting his hand under her soft chin. " Winny! you silly child," and he kissed her, "you know I would come to you always if I could." " I don't know that," she answered. But his kiss and his tenderness dried her tears. She began to smile, to tell him how she had been nearly blown away, how she had been frightened and half-frozen "down yonder in the cold dene." " But why did you stay, dear ?" he asked. " I wanted to see you, Graham," she said. " Oh ! so much — so much !" and she clung yet closer to his breast. He was not a man to turn coldly away from such tender, pleading love. He looked down at her sweet face — he smoothed back the soft, fair hair — he kissed her white brow.

Yet, standing there with this young girl nestling in his arms, his heart was ill at ease. Her sweetness and her beauty could not make him forget a certain pain and shame at his own wrong-doing. But Winny was too innocent, too devoted to him to understand this. One absorbing, overpowering feeling filled her whole being. She was near him, she was happy; and for the moment, at least, she forgot that between her life and the life of her lover, Graham North, lay a wide, almost impassable gulf. Presently she lifted up her head. " If I go home now, Graham," she said — " because Dorothy will scold so if I don't will you come to meet me to morrow ?" "Not to morrow, Winny," answered Graham North ; " to morrow I have a whole host of things already on my hands — but on Friday perhaps " "Friday!" interrupted Winny in a disappointed tone, "why, Graham, Friday is three whole days off — surely you can come before then ?"

"Well, let me see. Thursday — will that suit your ladyship ?" "Ah, don't talk like that, Graham — don't " ___ " jest. " I'm not jesting, Winny. I'm in no humour for jesting. Very Well, on Thurs day, then — in the glen by the river I suppose — the old place, at— shall we say half-past three ?" " And you will come ?" she said, fondly, looking up in his face. " Of course I shall come. And now, Winny, my child, had you not better be going home ? I will see you safely to the farm." " Only go across the moor with me, Graham," whispered Winny, close to his ear. " You see, Dorothy " " Very well, come along then." The storm was still blowing fiercely, but, somehow, neither of the two seemed to feel it. Winny was absorbed in her great joy — she was with him, she would see him again after one more dull day was passed ; and Graham North was thinking of many things — of his pride, of his poverty, of his folly, and of another woman, too.

The country girl clung to him, and her whole world was near her. But Graham North's world was not her world. He was a man close on thirty, a man well-born and well-educated ; and not love, but pity and self-reproach were at this moment the strongest feelings in his heart. Yet they parted like lovers. They stood there by the edge of the moor, hand-clasped ; they spoke in whispers, though there was none to hear, and they looked into each other's faces, and Graham North sighed deeply as he read the simple tale told on the girl's. " And you will come, dear — you will come ?" she repeated. They were her last words, He kissed her, and went striding awav in the darkness, with his brows knitted, and his head bowed on his breast. But Winny went forward with a light step, and a smile on her rosy lips.

She had seen him. She would see him again in two days, and that was enough for her fond and foolish heart. She never heeded the hail pattering down on her head now, nor the wind driving in her face. But she went quickly on, she almost ran, and presently she came to a long, low house, standing amid wide and spreading fields. This was her father's house on Thornley Farm. Her father, Richard Riddell, rented Thornley from old Graham North, the squire of Dillford. The Graham Norths had lived at Dillford for two hundred years. But they had never got rich. From sire to son the heavily-mortgaged acres had descended, and now there were two Graham Norths living, and people said when the old man died the whole place would go to the hammer, and the family pass away from the land. Thornley Farm was the best farm on the estate, and Richard Riddell, the tenant, was a man fairly well off in the world, and Winny Riddell was his youngest child.

He had one other daughter, Dorothy, who was fifteen years older than Winny, and it was for fear of Dorothy that Winny now hurried home wards as fast as she could go. Dorothy was standing at the back door of the house as Winny, wet and somewhat breathless, approached. Dorothy was sharp tongued, and she was very angry. " Well, I must say," she began in strong Northumbrian accents, "this is a nice time o' day, and a nice day for a young girl to be wandering in the dark alone ! Where have you been, Winny ? But I need not ask," she added, bitterly; "you've been seeking a fine gentleman who never seeks you, or if he does, only to make a fool of you !" Winny made no answer. She passed her sister and went into the farm-house kitchen, where a bright fire was burning in the big grate. Here she took off her long grey cloak, and shook off the hail-stones.

But Dorothy had followed her. " Look here, Winny," she said, " I won't have you spoiling the girl's afternoon's work, and dirtying the fresh-scoured floor with tramping in the snow and hail ! And I won't have you going on as you do. Have you no pride about you ? They say your fine gentle man's after Miss Despard, and that if she will have him, he's ready to take her and her money any day." "It's a lie!" said Winny, looking up indignantly in her sister's face, "an utter, horrid lie." "Well, you'll see," taunted Dorothy; "but lie or no lie, I won't stand your goings on any more. I'll tell father this very night when he comes from market, and then you and Mr. Graham North may take the con sequences." "Tell whom you like," retorted Winny, and she lit her bedroom candle and carried it upstairs, and locked her room door to escape from her sister's reproaches.

Let us follow her for a moment into the simply-furnished room, and stand behind her as she looks at herself in the dim, discoloured glass. A fair image is reflected there. A girl with a softly-tinted, harmonious face, and a tall slender form, and a great quantity of beautiful light ruffled hair. An undoubtedly pretty girl, and yet Winifred Riddell had features more charming than perfect. It was the whole colouring that was so lovely, so soft, so tender ; and the pleased smile with which she stood regarding her own beauty was only natural. But she was not thinking of that beauty for its own sake, nor for vanity's sake. She was pleased with her face for the sake of Graham North ! She indeed lived for this young man. And now let us look at him at the same moment, and see how much he deserved her fond and foolish love.

While Winny was admiring herself in the looking-glass at Thornley Farm, Graham North was just entering his mother's drawing room at Dillford Hall. Two ladies were seated in this drawing room — Mrs. Graham North and Miss Katharine Despard, of Castle Hill. Mrs. Graham North must have been fifty, since she had a grown man nearly thirty for her son. But she certainly did not look fifty. She was remarkably handsome ; very tall, finely-formed, and stately, with her thick hair, scarcely touched with grey, dressed high, and her ■ well-shaped figure perfectly and expensively attired. The other lady, Miss Katharine Despard, of Castle Hill, was also a very striking looking woman. She was a woman, more over, that everyone talked of and looked at, for she was a very great heiress, and her wealth had only recently come to her.

She had a noble face, and as the sound of Graham North's footsteps reached her ears, as he crossed the front drawing-room and entered the inner room where his mother and her guest where sitting, there flitted a rosy blush over Miss Despard's smooth skin. " We were just talking of you, my dear," said his mother, addressing him as he came forward. " I am very much honoured," he answered, smiling. " I hope you were not abusing me," and he looked at Miss Despard. "Could that be, Graham?" said his mother, with a proud fond smile, looking at her handsome son. For women thought Graham North hand some, and admired him, and Mrs. Graham North, who was proud of many things, was proudest of her only son. He was tall and dark, with a broad, square, clever brow, and strongly marked features, and he had a well shaped head, and bore himself with singular grace.

He was like his mother, and vet unlike her ; a truer, stronger soul than hers looked out from his grey and somewhat sombre eyes. " Your mother was praising you, Mr. North," smiled Katharine Despard. Graham North gave a good-natured little shrug. " We take in one woman all our lives," he said ; " one woman at least faithfully believes in us !" ' What ! only one ?" laughed Katharine. " Only one that is to be quite depended upon," answered Graham ; " the rest may be fickle or false, the mother never is." " And I never knew a mother's love," said Katharine, and over her mobile face crept a soft, wistful look which made her charming. " Your mother died when you were a child,. then ?" said Graham, looking at her. " She died when I was born," answered Katharine ; " died in India, and I was left a helpless babe on my poor father's hands."

"The helpless babe has turned out very well," said Graham, smiling. At this moment a rap came to the drawing room door, and a servant entered with a letter on a salver for Graham North. " Will you excuse me ?" he said to Katharine, as he opened it. But as he read it his brow darkened. " Where is the person," he said to the servant, " who has brought this ?" " He is waiting in the court-yard, sir," replied the man. " Tell him to go ; say I will see about it," said Graham North, impatiently. The servant cast down his eyes and looked uncomfortable. " Perhaps I could speak to you outside, sir ?" he said at length. " Of course," said Graham North, and he walked out of the inner drawing-room, followed by the servant. When they were in the large drawing-room the servant lowered his voice, and said a few words in his master's ear.

" Please sir, he says he won't go," he said, and as he spoke an angry exclamation rose on Graham's lips. " I will speak to him," he said the next moment; " tell him to come into the hall." The servant bowed, and Graham went into the hall, where a fire was burning, casting its flickering rays on the old oak carvings, and the stag's horns, and all the other paraphernalia suitable to the home of a man of fortune. A strange place to receive a dun in was this lofty hall, yet a minute later an unmis takable and very insolent dun entered it, and a flush rose on Graham North's face when he recognised this man as the master of a saddler's shop in Normanton, the country town nearest to Dillford. "Good evening," said Graham North, haughtily enough ; but the saddler only gave him a surly nod in reply.

"I've called about my account, Mr. North," he said. " Very well, you can leave it, and I will see about it." "That won't do, sir; the truth is, Mr. North, I'm sick of sending it in, and waiting for my money. In fact, I must have it settled ; I've come to Dillford for it, and I won't go home without it." The angry red flush on Graham North's face had deepened considerably as the man spoke, but he answered him very calmly and coolly. " Have you it with you ?" he said. " How much is it ?" " It's thirty-nine pounds," answered the irate saddler, " and it's been owing over five years, and the long and the short of it is, Mr. North, I'm a poor man, and cannot afford to lose my money." " If you will give it to me I will pay it to-morrow, for I shall be in Normanton." "That won't do, sir," said the man, rudely; " there are ugly stories about, and I must have my money before I go, for I won't leave Dillford till I get it."

"I will bring it to you," said Graham, in his proudest manner, and he went to the drawing-room door, and called to his mother. Mrs. Graham North at once hurried to her son when she heard his voice. " What is it, my dear ?" she asked, anxiously. "A man wants some money — in fact, won't go awray without it," answered Graham, in a low, annoyed tone ; " really, mother, these things are unendurable !" " But, my dear, what can I do ?" answered Mrs. Graham North. " We have no money — the bank won't advance another penny — in fact, in fact. Graham " and she shrugged her shoulders and looked at her son. "The question is, what can be done?" said Graham North, and he began to walk slowly up and down the room, with his head bowed on his breast. "You saw old Mr. Dixon a day or two ago, did you not ?" continued Mrs. Graham North.

" Indeed, he told me yesterday that he had seen you, and given you some idea of the state of our affairs. They are hopelessly involved, that is the truth — hopelessly — and, Graham, we have only you to look to now." Graham North did not speak ; he still kept walking up and down the room, and never raised his eyes. "I have long wished to speak to you about these things," said Mrs. Graham North, with some excitement in her voice, and with her eyes fixed anxiously on her son, "for this wretched man's impertinence in coming here for his money is only a piece with the rest ; even my milliner says she won't wait ! There are thousands and thousands owing for mere household accounts — in fact, Graham, some thing must be done !" " It's easy talking, fnother." " Graham," said Mrs. North, impressively, approaching her son, and laying her hand upon his arm, " you have it in your power — I am sure you have it in your power."

"What utter nonsense, mother," answered Graham, moving uneasily at her touch. "It is not nonsense, and you know it. But this is no time to discuss it — get this man away " I tell you he won't go," interrupted Graham, angrily and impatiently. " Surely, mother, we can raise this little sum between us r " How much is it?" asked Mrs. North. "Thirty-nine pounds, he says," answered Graham; "if you can lend me twenty, I think I have the rest." Mrs. North hesitated ; again she looked anxiously at her son's gloomy face, and then bit her lips and knit her brows, evidently taking some idea into consideration. "' I will try," she said, a moment later, and she left her son, who went to gather all the money he possessed together. He had not half the sum required, and in a state of deep annoyance he returned in about five minutes to the room where he expected to meet his mother.

She was already there and came forward to receive him with a smile, holding a roll of bank notes in her hand, which she held towards him. " Here is thirty pounds for you," she said, to her son's surprise; "pay this horrid man and send him away, and then come and have some tea with us, Graham, in the drawing room." Graham North took the notes, counted them over, and looked at his mother. " How did you get these notes ?" he said. " I had them by me to pay a bill," she answered, turning away her head. " Come, my dear, get rid of the man, and then we shall expect to see you. And with a smile and a nod she went away. Graham North did " get rid of the man," paying him his bill in full, to the man's great surprise, who no sooner saw the money than his whole manner and expression changed. " I am sure, sir, I hope you'll excuse me troubling you," he said, "but you see I am a poor man, and " " I want no apologies," interrupted Graham North almost harshly ; so the saddler gathered up his notes and went away, hoping he had not made a mistake and perhaps offended a customer who some day might have been worth keeping.

But Graham North did not rejoin his mother and Miss Despard after he was gone. He went out and walked in the dark shub beries, with the storm drifting overhead, trying to solve the perplexing problems of his life. He was thinking of two women — one, the girl looking at her sweet face in the dulled glass at Thornley Farm ; the other, the bright, handsome Katharine, who held in her small hands Fortune's gracious gifts. A MOTHER'S WARNING. 17

Chapter II

a mother's warning. The same night, when all the rest of the inhabitants of Dillford Hall were supposed to have retired, Graham North was sitting alone smoking in the library of the house, when he was disturbed by a little rap on the door of the room. " Come in," he said, and as he spoke his mother entered, and when he looked quickly up, he saw by the expression of her face that she had come to speak on some serious matter. " I want a few words with you, Graham," she said. She was pale, she looked tired, and Graham rose and drew an easy chair for her near the fire, but Mrs. North did not sit down. She stood for a moment silent, and then laid her hand on Graham's shoulder. " My dear," she said, " can you guess what I have come to say ? — can you guess some of the miserable anxiety of my heart ?"

" How can I guess, mother ?" answered Graham, with an uneasy effort to smile ; " but it's too late to-night." " No, no, Graham," interrupted Mrs. North, " I must speak ; I must point out to you the folly, the absolute madness, of delay. You know what I mean — Katharine Despard is rich, she is handsome, she is in love with c you; why don't you marry her, and end all such miserable scenes as occurred to-day ?" Graham frowned and bit his lips. "Will you allow some folly," continued Mrs. North, almost passionately, " at best folly, Graham, to stand between you and fortune ? — between you and honour, and everything that makes life worth living for ? I will not say anything more — I do not care to say so much — but surely you admire Miss Despard ? Everyone admires her." " Of course I admire her, and I like her exceedingly — but, mother," and Graham cast down his eyes, "there are other considera tions."

"I know! I know! A girl's folly — your folly ! Graham, you talk of other considera tions ; do you never consider your poor invalid father, your sisters, your mother ? Are we nothing to you ? I ask no sacrifice. Miss Despard is a noble, charming, hand some girl — a girl any man might be proud to marry — and she loves you." "How do you know that, mother?" said Graham, and he looked up with a half smile. " By a hundred signs," answered Mrs. North, eagerly ; " a hundred signs that only women can understand ; men are so coarse, their finer instincts get blunted, for they see so much, they think they know so much, but they don't know much about girls like Katharine Despard. I have watched her ; \ MOTHER'S WARNING. 19 she is smiling, calm, and pleasant to you — just as a lady ought to be to a man who has not proposed for her, or at least given her to understand that he really means to do so.

But I have watched her closely — she would give her little finger for you, Graham — ay, her little hand !" " Mother!" began Graham very earnestly and he rose. " I won't hear a word," interrupted his mother, putting up her hand. "I know quite enough — I don't want to hear any more ; but it has come to this, for we may as well speak plainly, that if you don't, or won't, marry Miss Despard, we shall at once have to leave Dillford — drag your poor father away to die, to starve, in some foreign watering-place." "You drive me hard, mother," muttered Graham, slowly, " very hard." Mrs. Graham North went up to him and took his hand with evident emotion. "You are my son," she said, in a broken voice; " my dearest son of whom I have been so proud — and Graham, Graham, I implore you do not add shame to poverty, do not bring disgrace on our old name.

And where will you have such another chance ? Miss Despard is in the house, you have it all your own way; in town you would have a hundred rivals, and as I told you before, she is absolutely in love with you !" " I do not know that, mother," said Graham, now half smiling. " But / know ; you were her first love. Why, from the time she came to Castle Hill, when she was a young girl and you had just left college, I noticed she was fond of you. Graham, I have hoped and prayed for this for years. The thought has kept me up through a hundred humiliations and annoy ances. But I will say nothing more — think of what I have said — even to-day when that wretched man would have his money I had only to hint to Katharine— " What, mother ?" interrupted Graham, sharply and angrily, "you do not mean to say you borrowed that money of Miss Despard?"

" But I do mean to say so, Graham. It is all very fine talking, but if this miserable man would not have gone quietly away, a dozen other wretches would have been upon us like vultures. This is no fiction — stern facts are staring us in the face — if things are not arranged at once " " It is late, mother," again interrupted Graham, impatiently, and he looked at his watch. Mrs. North took the hint ; she kissed her son, and murmured some tender words as she did so, but she went away and left Graham once more alone with his own miserable and self-reproachful thoughts. And the shadow of these thoughts was still on his face when he entered the breakfast-room the next morning, and found there his father and mother and Miss Despard. a mother's warning. 21 The two ladies were seated at the table, Mrs. Graham North looking as smiling and gracious as if there were neither debts nor duns in the world, and Katharine Despard also looking smiling and handsome.