Kirby-in-the-Dale

Chapter I

Easter arrived, and Charles Otway was not yet settled in the rectory. He was in no great hurry to go there, and the men who were work ing at it seemed in no greater hurry to let him go there. Dora and he had spent a great deal of time in decorating the church, and, as Helen De La Touche was not able to leave the house and join them in their labours, the work had been rendered harder for them. No one in the parish cared about the matter; in fact, it was looked upon as a distinct innovation in the direction of Rome. Mrs. Malcolm was excessively indignant. She took upon herself to let the new rector know that he was taking a mean advantage of Lord Kirby's absence, who, she insisted, would not have allowed the VOL. II. I CHURCH DECORATIONS. 2 thing to be done. Nor was her wrath appeased when Charles Otway told her that Lord Kirby had no more right to interfere with the church than he himself had to interfere with the deco rations of the drawing-room at the Castle.

She tried to stop the proceedings by persuading the gardener at the Castle to refuse a supply of flowers. But, although that functionary was afraid to break the peace with the steward's wife, still surreptitiously he managed to convey some very exquisite specimens of his treasures to the two workers. The result Avas, that on Easter Sunday the chancel showed a mass of white ; for no other hue was permitted to pass the chancel arch. Primroses and violets in profusion were to be found in the nave and aisles and about the font ; but the Holy Table and its surroundings were conspicuous for the absence of any colour. And very lovely everything looked. The rector's sermon was in his best style, and the farmers' daughters, at any rate, became converts at once to the new way of celebrating the great Christian festival.

The church was crowded ; and as Otway had strongly put the necessity of communicating at Easter before his congregation on Palm TOMKINS VERSUS MALCOLM. 3 Sunday, the number of communicants far ex ceeded the average. The only drawback to the satisfaction which he experienced was the absence of Helen. Dora had seen her more than once in the course of the week, and she had expressed her sorroAV that it would be impossible for her to be at church on Easter Sunday. The doctor was inexorable ; and, indeed, she herself doubted Avhether she should be able to bear the fatigue, even if he had given his consent. Nothing, meanwhile, had been heard of Lord Kirby. Tomkins had arrived, and very soon let every one know that he was master of the situation. He was so little disposed to hide his candle under a bushel that he magnified his office very considerably.

If it had not been for the fact that Mrs. Malcolm had de nounced the decoration of the church, Tomkins would probably have attempted to interfere, knoAving his lordship's dislike of ecclesiastical fandangoes, as he called them, of any kind. Luckily for the rector's peace of mind, he discovered what Mrs. Malcolm's attitude was, on the day of his arrival; and he, of course, immediately took the opposite side. It was A SUDDEN CONVERSION. 4 through him mainly that the gardener secretly supplied flowers for the decorations; and he made himself conspicuous by extolling all that the rector had done to make the services more " churchy." At the Kirby Arms, where he went occasionally to smoke his pipe in the evening, he astonished the farmers by telling them what he had seen in ritualistic churches in London ; hinting not ambiguously that he approved of the " ornaments " movement, and sympathised with the persecuted victims of the Church Association.

As Mr. Tomkins had previously expressed himself in a very different fashion about church matters, no small sur prise was exhibited on the part of the landlord and his cronies. They could not account for this sudden conversion. Dora Robarts was astonished to see Mr. Tomkins among the communicants on Easter Sunday; but she supposed that he had been influenced by the eloquent appeal of the rector on the previous Sunday. She did not know that five-sixths of the religious zeal exhibited by men of his type is always the result of some secondary motive. Tomkins, whose laxity of principle in church- LOST SCENT. 5 manship had been notorious both in the house hold and in the village, became an oracle ot orthodoxy; and his scrupulous observance of the ceremonial of church services caused him to be thought a pattern for every yokel to imitate.

Meanwhile, Mr. De La Touche had suddenly disappeared from the village. Tomkins, who looked upon him as a malignant fiend, was perplexed beyond measure at this. He tried in vain to trace him. He sounded, or attempted to sound, the old Frenchwoman. But his com plete ignorance of French baffled him here. She, however, knew just as much about the movements of her master as Tomkins. He had not told either his wife or his daughter where he was going, or how long he was going to be absent. Warned by the late disaster, they were always on the alert, fearing lest he should come upon them, as before, at unawares. Days and days passed without his reappearance. They would have been anxious about him if his absence had not been a distinct relief. Helen slowly recovered from the shock which had so shattered her nerves.

As the weather grew warmer she was able in A JOB'S COMFORTER. Easter week to get as far as across the square to see Dora. All were terribly grieved at her appearance. It seemed as if the elasticity of youth had vanished from her. There was something ghastly in her smile. It was im possible for her now to affect any of that buoyancy of spirits which before this event she could assume apparently at will . Charles Otway could hardly refrain from tears when he gazed upon what seemed to him a wreck. " Men are always Job's comforters when they see an invalid," thought Dora, who tried her best to infuse a little of the old fun into her talk. And when Helen had taken her depar ture, Dora rated Mr. OtAvay soundly for his lugubrious attitude tOAA'ards her friend. " Really, Mr. Otway, one might think that you never saw a convalescent woman before.

A nice husband you will make for some unhappy girl. Why, you are doleful enough to put anyone into a fit of the blues ! When people are unwell they don't Avant to be made to think that they are ten times worse than they are. Poor Helen came here to be cheered up ; and behold ! you send her back Avith the impression that she has not many A WEAK APOLOGY. 7 weeks to Hve. When I am ill I shall give special orders that you are not admitted to visit me. I suppose you would begin by tell ing me to set my house in order ! I hope when you go about the parish that you do not pull long faces to the poor old women and look dismal. They won't care to see much of you if you do." " My dear Miss Robarts, please do not be so hard upon me. I saw Miss De La Touche in this house a few days ago, bright and ani mated and lovely.

Now I see her just the reverse ! Can you wonder that I have received a shock almost as great as she received that awful night ? I am very sorry if it is as you say, and that I have done mischief. But I really could not help it : and it struck me that you were unfeeling to attempt any jocose con versation." "Why, do you suppose," retorted Dora, " that I did not feel ten times more shocked than you did, when I saw the poor thing ? Is it Hkely that you, who have known her about a fortnight, can sympathise with her as warmly as I can, to whom she has been more than a sister so long ? But as I said, she came here WOMEN ARE HARD TO PLEASE. 8 to be cheered up a bit ; and if I had thought her fifty per cent, worse than she is, I should have done my best to amuse her. You men never do the right thing where women are con cerned.

You imagine, I presume, that nurses in an hospital are always looking like under takers. They would soon be sent to the right about if they were." " You are hard upon our young friend, as usual, Dora," remarked Mr. Robarts. "At any rate, I know from experience that the village women like the parson to be lugubrious, as you call it. What could be their motive for exhibiting all their sores and ulcers and wounds, if they did not wish to harrow your feelings ? Far from your sex liking to be told how well they look, ninety at least out of every hundred are almost angry if you tell them that they are looking better than you expected to see them." " I suppose, then, I am not like other women, papa, and I am certain Helen is not. But do not let us discuss this subject any further. I want to know when you will go to Scarton !

Helen must have change of air and scene at once, and I think we might be off early in May. A PLEASANT SUGGESTION. 9 The rectory will be finished before the end of the month, and we shall leave Mr. Otway duly installed when we start." " Any time you like, my dear," replied her father. " The sea air will do us all good. And I do not think it fair to leave you, Otway, to vegetate here with no one in the Hall and your lode-star gone. You must join our party for a short week of six days any how. The village is healthy enough ; and, except those five old crones in the almshouses, there is no one likely to require your services. If there is, we will leave a commission with Mr. Tomkins to despatch a groom with a horse for you. Tom kins will be proud of such a semi-ecclesiastical function to show off his new-fledged church manship."

Otway was beginning to make some polite excuse, but Mr. Robarts interrupted him. " No sham excuses, Otway. I am sure your heart will be with us, even if your person is absent. Besides, we shall be dull, even in gay Scarton, if left to our own devices. You will promise to come, Choose your own week, but, at any rate, come." So it was settled that Helen and the DOCTOR'S ORDERS. 10 Robartses should leave Kirby on May day, and that Otway should follow as soon as he pleased. Helen made some demur when this arrange ment was communicated to her. She feared her father's return, and a possible scene at Scarton. For when he was in his cups he was perfectly lawless, and would have no more compunction about raising a disturbance on the promenade at Scarton than he would in his house at Kirby. But the doctor was taken into confidence, and he declared that it must be done.

He would stand between them and danger. He would Avrite a peremptory order for a month at the seaside to be their warrant in case of a row. Moreover, he promised that they should be apprised in an hour of Mr. De La Touche's arrival, should he turn up unexpectedly. For he knew that Tomkins was anxious to find him, and he was sure that that worthy would supply the means of conveying a message to Scarton in case of emergency. Helen, therefore, con sented. There was no difficulty in persuad ing her mother, who never stirred out of the house, was never seen by any one, and was popularly supposed to be in a chronic state CHANGED TIMES. 11 of muddlement from the effect of strong liquors. In a few days Otway moved into the rectory. It had been made very comfortable by Dora's feminine skill. She had also hired servants who were trustworthy, — women of the true old country type, a type which is gradually becoming extinct from the changed conditions of farm-house life.

In Kirby and the neighbourhood the tradition had not yet died out that it was the right thing for a well-to-do farmer's daughter to go into service in a gentleman's family. There were still many of the old class of farmers left in the neighbourhood, whose girls, honestly and respectably brought up, were very different people from the majority of servants of the present day. Half the complaints that fill certain newspapers, and form the staple conversation of many matres familiarum in the upper classes, have their origin in the fact that female domestics are now-a-days taken from a much lower stratum of the population than they formerly were. Dora Robarts knew exactly where to look for what she wanted, and found it. So Otway was at once made as fairly comfortable A MODEL PARSONAGE. 12 as a bachelor rector can be.

For bachelors fare badly as a rule in the country. In a town a single man who is not wealthy can get on very well, if he is tolerably good tempered, and knows how to make himself agreeable to ladies. In a country village it is far different. A wife is almost a necessity to a country parson. No parsonage could be imagined more perfect than that of Kirby, with its quaint corridors, curious little rooms, oak-panelled walls, secret doors opening into spacious closets, winding stairs, mullioned windows, in many of which Mr. Robarts had placed beautiful medallions of stained glass. Dora loved the rectory, where she had been born, and lived so many years. So that it was for her a labour of love to fit it out after her own fancy, — although she doubtless often sighed to think that it would never be her destiny to be mistress of it again.

Still, if her friend Helen were ever installed there, it would be the next best thing, and no one could be less selfish than Dora. When all was ready for Otway's entrance, he proposed that there should be a "house- PRESENTIMENT. 13 warming" in the shape of a dinner, a Httle dinner of four only, — for Dora was to persuade the doctor to let Helen be of the party. This was easily done, but Helen's reluctance was not so easy to overcome. Her mind was oppressed with a vague horror that something terrible was going to happen to her very soon ; and her imagination somehow con nected this coming evil with Mr. Otway. Dora had told her how deeply he was smitten with her. She herself had seen this, both at the Robartses' house on the two occasions when she had met him there, and at the never-to-be-forgotten scene when her father met them on the threshold of her home.

She was utterly unconscious of having given him the slightest encouragement. If she had done so, she would have had to reproach her conscience with having raised hopes that never could be fulfilled. She could not, however, be wholly indifferent to him. She .could not help reflecting what a different life to hers would be that of his wife, whoever she might be ; with a home how different from hers ! with surroundings and relation ships how different from hers ! THE PROBLEM OF SUFFERING. 14 Helen was no sceptic, but she could not help thinking how hardly Providence had ordered her lot. At times she came to the dismal conclusion that there must have been some truth in the old Greek notion, which she had read about in mythologies, of a stern necessity overruling the Divine Being Him self. How could an Almighty Father allow innocent children to suffer life-long torture for the misconduct of their parents ?

Here was she, the child of a gentleman and a lady, educated as highly as any girl in society, far better than the greater number of them ; — yet, because her father had got entangled in disreputable transactions, and her mother in consequence had fallen into intemperate habits, she was a pariah, thankful for any slight attention from any one, or for any crumb of comfort she could pick up anyhow. Then there was a deeper wound than this, a wound which was known only to a few, but which any day might be discovered and lead to a fatal issue. She dared not look back ; she dared not look forward. Evil was in the past, worse evil perhaps in the future. Her life was a sacrifice, and, as it seemed to her, there INHERITED PENALTLES. 15 was nothing noble in the sacrifice ; because it was not a voluntary surrender of any joy or happiness, but an involuntary exclusion from joy and happiness.

Except the brief intervals of association with Dora, she had no one with whom to communicate a thought, and she had plenty of thoughts that she could not communicate even to Dora. " The heart knoweth its own bitterness," — that is an ex perience which is the common lot of all ; but few situations are more tragic than that of a modern Electra without Electra's high motive : and there are unhappily thousands of women, who are the victims of parental folly, tortured daily and hourly by the most exquisite of tortures. Who can wonder that sometimes the physical, sometimes the intellectual, some times the moral fibre snaps under the pressure, and that either the grave or the asylum, or something worse than either, terminates a career begun amid the fairest hopes ?

Chapter II

The morning of the day on which the dinner was to take place arrived. Helen had, under daily remonstrances from Dora, consented to appear. The post brought a long-expected letter from Victoria Lawson to Dora. It ran as follows : — " Paris, Hotel Bristol. " April 2s\th. " My Dearest Dora, — How detestable you must have thought me ! Of course you have long ago decided that I had taken the opportunity to drop your society. But if you knew how utterly impossible it has been to get a single half-hour to scribble anything more than a post card (and I knew you would have considered that an unforgiveable insult), you would assuage your wrath in a minute. Here we are in the city of pleasure, and a beautiful city it is ; so different from that grimy London, with its mud and dust and fog and smoke. The sun does shine in Paris, and every one looks as if he or she enjoyed it thoroughly.

But I must tell you of our adventures and misadventures. First and foremost we had an awful passage to Calais. The LE THEATRE FRANgAIS. 17 engine got wrong somehow : something burst, and the whole ship was filled with steam. Two poor fellows, stokers, were almost scalded to death in trying to turn it off. My sister said that they were horrible spectacles ; I could not bear to look at them. Then in our disabled state the sea began to rise, and we were all frightfully ill. At last a tug took us in tow, and we got into Calais eighteen hours after time. On landing, Harriette found that a box was missing, contain ing some very valuable jewels, and it has not turned up yet. This made papa very angry, for of course he said that it was through our carelessness. As a matter of fact, it was the maid's fault.

I believe it was stolen out of the cab in which she went to the station, and she did not dare to tell us. " Well, we reached Paris at last, quite worn out, and it was two days before we were sufficiently on our land legs again to go about. We had a great deal of shopping to do, as we were hurried out of London so quick, and most of the next three or four days were spent in making bargains; literally, you know, bargaining, for the French are still babies about buying and selling. But they have lovely shops, and their things look so well ! We managed to go one night to the Theatre Frangais, because we were so anxious to see Moliere. It was not easy to persuade papa to go, for he cannot follow the French of a play, even with a libretto. At last, however, we coaxed him to escort us. And what do you think happened ?

We had a stage box, so that papa might have as much as possible of the only amusement he was capable of, i.e., watching the people in the theatre. He had a good opera glass, and the appearance of the people, both men and women, amused him VOL. II. A CONTRETEMPS. 18 very much. Suddenly, when we were about half through the play, Les Femmes Savantes, and intensely interested in the superb acting, he let the glass drop out of his hands, exclaiming, ' Good heavens ! there is that rascal De La Touche in the pit ! ' We both looked in the direction that he indicated, and there he was sure enough, far more respectably dressed than he ever has been at Kirby, seated between two young French 'swells,' with whom he was chatting on terms of the greatest apparent familiarity. ' He is here for no good,' said my father. ' I have a great mind to denounce him to the police as a swindler.' I cannot think why he has such a horror of the man.

He has done nothing but talk about him and malign him ever since. Yesterday, as we were driving in the Bois de Boulogne alone, we saw him again. He was with the same young men, regular habitues of the Bois, of the true Alphonse type, and with a pair of as sinister countenances as you could imagine. He evidently recognized us, and when we drove past he said something to his companions, pointing in our direction. I hope he is not going to haunt us in our tour, for, when we told papa, he said that he would leave Paris to-morrow. So when you write, address Poste Restante, Milan. I have heaps to tell you about all the lovely things we have seen. Our travelling costumes I think you would say are perfect, and we have each gone to the extravagance of evening dresses at Worth's. That sagacious man-milliner complimented me on my figure, and of course grievously offended Hal by saying nothing about hers 1 I hope you have seen the dogs.

Mind when you write to tell me all about them. Give my love to Helen. I think that you had better not say a word about HOW DID HE GET THERE? 19 her rapscallion father. If you do say anything, only say that we saw him enjoying himself in the theatre. And now, dear Dora, as they are screaming at me to go to dinner, and we have all to pack up to-night, you must be contented with this 'sketch.' Good luck attend you all while we are far, far away ! Adieu ! "A toi toujours, "V. Lawson. " P.S. — Tell me all about the Easter decorations, and whether any one ' cut up rough ' ! Don't forget the dogs ! " Dora read this letter to Charles Otway, chiefly with a view of getting his advice about communicating to Helen the whereabouts of her father. It was decided, after a long dis cussion, to tell her simply that he was in Paris ; because the knowledge that he could not very well pounce upon her that night would make her more at her ease during dinner.

Helen was no less surprised than the rest at the news. It was not usual for De La Touche to announce his movements beforehand to his household. But the marvel was how and where he had found the means to take a Continental trip. When at home he hardly allowed his wife and daughter the bare means of subsistence. Helen was inclined, from her bitter experience, to THE SPELL OF LOVE. 20 the conclusion that it had not been come by honestly. Some desperate game was being played which might involve them all in deeper disgrace and more abject poA'erty than they were in at present. Therefore, although her mind was eased of one burden, because it was impossible, she thought, that he should surprise her again, another almost as painful to support was cast upon her. She Avent to the rectory with a sad heart.

In vain during dinner she made every effort to be cheerful, and to assume an epicureanism which she did not feel. Haggard and worn as her expression was, Charles Otway was more than ever under the spell of love. He mentally vowed that he would rescue her at any hazard from her oppression. The idea that such an angelic being, so she seemed in his eyes, should perish in the battle of life without a hand being raised for her deliverance was awful to think of. He said very little. The brunt of the conversation fell on Dora and her father, both of whom, to do them justice, exerted themselves to the utmost to promote conviviality. Mr. Robarts had many quaint stories of country life and manners, which he told with ANECDOTES. 21 admirable humour. Dora, who knew the pre cise way in which these stories could be drawn out, did not allow the stream of anecdote to fail for a moment.

Neither Helen nor their host could help laughing at the sketches of character which Mr. Robarts drew so well. He had just concluded the following story, how that Lord Kirby had an old tenant named Simpson, whose family had been on the pro perty from time immemorial. To Simpson said Lord Kirby one day, " Do you know, Simpson, that my family came over to Eng land with William the Conqueror ? " " Naw, my Lord, ah newer heeard that," replied the farmer, "but ah hev heeard as a deal o' riff raff com ower wiv him." While a burst of laughter greeted this repartie, suddenly Helen exclaimed in a terrified voice, " Who is that ? " The dinner had begun by daylight; and when the candles were lighted, as the evening was fine and the dining-room windows opened upon the garden, Mr. Otway had ordered them not to be closed, so that they might see the effects of the fading light upon the Abbey tower, wliich was full in view.

It had grown AN APPARITION. 22 almost dark without any one noticing it. Helen, who was seated opposite to the windows, explained that she had seen the face of a man peeping round the side of one of the windows into the room. "Perhaps it is the gardener," said Otway, "who wanted to see hoAv we all looked under the circumstances." "Or who wanted to hear papa's stories," suggested Dora, with a laugh. "Nothing of the kind," said Helen, who seemed suffering from the greatest agitation. " It was no gardener. I saw his face distinctly, and it was " Here her voice faltered. She seemed to be trying to say something, but was overcome with emotion. At last she burst into tears. Meanwhile Mr. Robarts and Otway had rushed to the door and dashed out into the garden, where they commenced a regular search of every nook and corner about the premises.

Dora, alarmed, not on account of the apparition, which she believed to be, if not the gardener, at all events one of the village people brought there by curiosity, but on account of Helen, whose condition became WHO COULD IT BE? 23 more and more hysterical, tried all in her power to soothe her. With the assistance of one of the maids, she got her into the drawing room, and succeeded, after a few minutes, in getting her into a more tranquil condition. " Believe me, dearest Helen," she said, "your nerves are so unstrung by your illness that you are frightened at shadows. These village louts, you know, are so stupid in their miserable craving to know what is going on, wherever they see a light in a window, that they forget how easily they themselves can be seen. I shall find out to-morrow who it is, and I will get Mr. Malcolm to frighten him well.

If Mr. Otway catches him to-night I am sure he will make him not easily forget this adventure." " It was no village lout, as you call them, Dora," said Helen with a shudder. " I know the face too well." "Why, surely," cried Dora, "it was not Mr. De La Touche?" "Oh no! certainly not papa," replied Helen ; " it was " Here she stopped again, and before Dora could ask her to go on, the two clergymen re- A FAMILIAR SPIRIT. 24 turned, out of breath, and came at once to the drawing-room to see how Helen was. "We could find no one," said Otway. "We have hunted all about the house, and not a trace can we discover of man, woman, child, or animal. All we have done has been to alarm some scores of blackbirds, thrushes, and other fowls of the air in the laurels. Perhaps, Miss De La Touche, you were mistaken after all.