Easydale. A story

Front matter

" He could not conceal from himself the double value which he now set on the old part that still remained, as he stood on the terrace, and gazed at the old windows which looked down over the garden." — Page 155. EASYDALE. % St0fP. BY EDIS SEARLE, AUTHOR OF "FRIENDS AND NEIGHBOURS," "HETTY'S RESOLVE," ETC, etc. "In the afternoon they came unto a land, In which it seemed always afternoon." Tennyson. SEELEY, JACKSON, & HALLIDAY, 54, FLEET STREET, LONDON. MDCCCLXXIV. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. A DECISION . . . . x II. EASYDALE . . . . .11 III. MISTAKES . . . . . ig IV. EASE, AND WHAT IT COSTS . . -33- V. UNEASINESS . . . . • 5° VI. THE PROBLEM SOLVED . . . 6l VII. SWEET CECY . . . . -74 VIII. SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT . . .84 IX. CHURCH DECORATION. . . -91 X. A MISTAKE . . . . .100. XI. OTHER PEOPLE'S TROUBLES . . . 108 XII.

A STRANGE FRIENDSHIP . . . 119. XIII. " IS IT DEATH ?" . . 135 XIV. AN UNPLEASANT DISCOVERY . . . 146 XV. A CATASTROPHE . . . . 157 XVI. NOT SO BAD AS HE LOOKS . . . 172 XVII. A ROUGH EXTERIOR . . . .182 CONTENTS. IV CHAPTER PAGE XVIII. A DARK DAY . . . . £96 XIX. THE ABUSE OE TENDERNESS . . 206 XX. A SECRET . . . . .217 XXI. CASTLEWOOD . . . .232 XXII. A FOOT IN A TRAP . . . 249 XXIII. A CHANGED CONDITION . . . 265 XXIV. VEXATION OF SPIRIT . . .276 XXV. A LURKING FOE . . . .287 XXVI. FORTH AGAIN . . . -301 XXVII. A CLOUD . . . . -314 XXVIII. CLEARING UP . . . .326 XXIX. HOME LETTERS .... EASYDALE.

Chapter I

A DECISION. " Full many a way, full many a path, The all-encircling Ocean hath, Let each man only see to this, That his own course he do not miss." " Oh, miss, you're never thinking of beginning your packing to-night and you so tired and done up like ; why you're more like a ghost than any living thing that ever I did see ; and there's your uncle, poor gentleman, walking about downstairs like another, and a very uneasy kind of one, too, I should say. You'd better by half go down and keep him company, than stay up crying over them things." " I didn't know uncle had come in, and as one must be doing something there was no harm in beginning to sort the things a little ; though to be sure, Anne, it does seem rather absurd to pack one's clothes before one knows in the least where one is going to."

" Then you'll go downstairs, and I'll tell James to take the coffee into the drawing-room," replied the elderly domestic, who was half nurse half maid to Juliet Hayes, the young lady who had just spoken, and who, having been a valued attendant from the time when Juliet's mother had come to the house as a young bride, and having moreover nursed Juliet herself from her infancy, had the privilege of speaking her mind freely whenever she felt so disposed. And to the young girl, but lately completely orphaned, the almost maternal tones of the old servant were at this moment peculiarly welcome. To gaze as she had been doing round that empty deserted house, and feel that everything it contained was now hers, and that her voice alone was to decide what should be done with each and all of the old familiar objects around her, — I say, to look around on all these things with this new sense of proprie torship and responsibility, had produced in Juliet's mind a painful feeling of loneliness and desolation.

Her own separate life was now to begin, the link which had hitherto bound hers to another life had been rudely broken, and she had now to think and plan for herself alone. Gradually she was growing used to the idea ; by degrees, as one after another of the relations who had come to be present at her mother's funeral took their leave and dis appeared, the solitariness of her lot began to stare her in the face and gave rise to the question, " Where shall I go, and what shall I clo with myself?" To understand fully what a change had come over her life it must be considered that for four long years Juliet had been the constant companion and devoted attendant of her only parent, and that during an illness which was calculated especially to test the self-denying qualities of the young girl, and call into exercise every tender sympathy and unselfish impulse of her nature.

What it was to Juliet to wake each morning to the remembrance that she was now necessary to no one, it is impossible to describe ; those early moments of each day were perhaps among the bitterest of her life, for the day time brought occupation, and the quiet evening hours a sweet, sad looking-back on the past, mingled with some thoughts of thanksgiving for her whose clouded life had been exchanged for the rest, eternal and past conception. But matters could not ahvays continue in this state of uncertainty, and as Juliet hastily arranged her hair to go down to meet her uncle, at Anne's suggestion, she re solved that if he seemed inclined for conversation she would seek his advice with regard to her future plans. He was her mother's brother and therefore might reason ably expect to be consulted, and as Juliet had no intimate friend in the world to whom to apply, he would, she thought, do as well as any one.

Was she an only child then ? Oh ! no, four brothers older than herselfmight naturally have come to her aid in this matter, and so they did in one way, inasmuch as one and all of the four had begged her to make his house her home for as long as she felt disposed. But, strange as it may appear, to not one of all these brothers could Juliet resolve to open her heart. " I must speak to some one now," she thought, as she opened the drawing-room door and went up to the round table where her uncle was alternately sipping his coffee and reading the newspaper, " but how can I begin ?" Mr. Cowell looked up as she approached, and smiled his usual benign smile, but he did not speak. This niece of his was rather a puzzle to him, with her quiet self contained ways, her dark eyes which told no secrets, and long drooping eye-lashes which seemed admirably adapted to conceal any passing emotions which might possibly agitate for a moment those beautiful eyes bei — neath.

She was so different from the round-faced, merry looking lasses he had left at home, and the old gentleman, anxious as he really was to show his orphaned niece all possible kindness, could not make sufficient allowance for the very great differences between the past lives of these young girls, and was apt to be impatient with the quiet undemonstrative grief which it was so hard to comfort, and to fancy that there was a want of sincerity and straightforwardness in this girl, who seemed as if she could only talk the common every-day chit-chat of the world, and whose feelings — he did not wrong her so much as to doubt whether she had any — were always under such strict control. But for once Juliet seemed resolved to drop the re serve in which she had hitherto shrouded her thoughts and feelings, and with the effort which such a step required she plunged at once into the task which she had assigned herself.

" Uncle, I want to ask your advice. Will you tell me what you think I had better do with myself when all the business affairs are settled ?" " My dear, I will give you any advice in my power, but why not consult your brothers ? They will, I am sure, be glad to help you, and will almost expect you to look to them rather than to me." " But I would rather be guided by you," was Juliet's reply. " You see, uncle, if I followed Harry's advice, Lester might be offended, and in the same way Fred and Legh might not agree in their ideas, and so I should be the bone of contention between them ; extremely unplea sant, I'm sure." " But they have made some suggestions, have they not?" " Yes, and I want you to condemn all their schemes, and suggest a better." " If that better is that you should make your home with us, Juliet, you know I shall be quite ready.

Your aunt and cousins will be charmed to have you, and I really think you might be very happy with us." Juliet shook her head. " Don't think me ungrateful, uncle," she said, " and don't call me altogether unamiable and unnatural, if I say that I think I had better not live with any of my relations." " I will call you nothing hastily, my dear, but tell me why you have come to such a strange conclusion, for strange it certainly does seem." Juliet changed her seat restlessly, and hesitated some instants before replying to this question. At length fixing her earnest eyes on the fire, and nervously twitching the hand-screen which she had taken from the chimney piece, she replied, " I dare say it does ; but, uncle, though I haven't seen much of the world, I have often noticed one thing which seemed to me intensely absurd, and which I often resolved I would never be guilty of — I mean the ridiculous way in which people who haven't one idea in common make up their minds to live together.

Now you will hardly believe it, but the truth is that my brothers and I are as different in every respect as it is possible for people to be. Harry, you know what he is — a money-get ting, money-loving man of business — what have he and I in common ? Lester is simply mad on the subject of tee totalism, and would bore me to death with arguments on that most uninteresting of manias, while Fred and Legh have such odd notions on church matters ; — would it not be most absurd to settle down as an inmate of any one of their houses ? Do, uncle, say you agree with me ; I'm sure you must." " First, tell me one or two things : Have they expressed any strong desire to have you ? and, secondly, if you abandon all idea of living with your near relatives, what are you going to do ? You are too young to live alone."

Again Juliet hesitated. " They certainly have urged me to make their homes mine," she said at length ; " but, of course, that is only kind and polite ; they will not break their hearts if I refuse, for, with the exception of Legh,. I can't persuade myself that I am really wanted by any one of them." "Ah, Legh, poor fellow, left a widower so young, of course he wants you ; but, Juliet, what is your own plan ? You have not told me that." A deep colour mounted to the young girl's very pale face, as she answered, " I'm afraid, uncle, you will hardly understand me ; perhaps you will think me visionary and romantic, instead of really in earnest, as I'm sure I am. But it seems to me that when one is left as I am now — alone in the world, with not a creature in any way dependent on me — it would be far wiser to consider what use one can be in the world, and what work one is fitted for, than merely to seek to make for oneself a comfortable home.

Now if there is one thing in the world that I have had more experience in than most people, it is in nursing, and I can't help thinking it is a talent to be turned to account." "And a most valuable one," Mr. Cowell replied. " But in what way were you thinking of exercising it just now ? I should have said that a respite from such labour would have done you a great deal of good just now ; you have had quite enough of it lately." "I am not fitted to form a pleasant member of gay society, even if I wished it," Juliet replied, with a sigh. " Life has been too serious a matter with me, ever since I was anything more than a child, for me to feel much relish for the usual occupations of young ladies ; I shouldn't care for them. What I want is hard work and constant em ployment ; and I may as well tell you all at once, uncle, I am seriously thinking of joining the Sisterhood lately established at Cumberstone."

Mr. Cowell looked greatly astonished. "Juliet," he said, after a moment's silence, " I'm a very old-fashioned man, and I dare say I have many old-fashioned prejudices. Now, I know very little of these sisterhoods, and very likely I may be mistaken in my judgment, but I must frankly say I feel a mistrust of them. I think of our Lord's condemnation of those who made broad their phylacteries, who prayed at the corners of the streets that they might be seen of men, and of the rule He gave us, ' Let not your left hand know what your right hand doeth ;' and when I hear the title Sister This, or Sister That, and see the peculiar garb attracting attention from the passer by, I cannot refrain from saying to myself, ' Is there no thought of the praise of men in all this?' But never mind that just now ; let us return to what you said about Legh ; are you sure you are not called to prove yourself a true sister to him, instead of seeking new ties beyond your home circle ?

What did he say ? You said you had a letter from him this morning." " He said," Juliet replied, rather reluctantly drawing the letter from her pocket and unfolding it, " that though he hardly liked to ask such a thing, if I wished to perform an unparalleled act of charity, I should do so by consent ing to come and keep him company, and be a mother to his poor little boy. Put in that way, it is hard to refuse, and yet I feel that in the end we shall both repent if I do accede to his proposal. While we keep apart, I mean only meet occasionally, we are very fond of each other ; but I wouldn't promise that we should continue so after living together for a few months." " And why not ?" asked her uncle, extremely perplexed. " Because as I said before, there are so many points on which we entirely disagree, and, as you know, dear uncle, Legh and I are neither of us fond of giving way."

Mr. Cowell was silent • he did know this very well, but it did not alter his opinion one whit. Juliet's path of duty seemed to him plain, and he could scarcely believe that it was not equally so to her. At length she resumed : " Do you not agree with me, uncle, that to settle oneself down with folks of com pletely different sentiments is the most intense folly ?" " Not quite, my dear ; much depends on what degree of difference exists. If we go through the world, determined to keep clear of all those who do not think exactly as we do, we shall become solitary, lonely-hearted beings ; narrow-minded to the last degree." "Then do you really think I ought to ignore these differences, and go and live with Legh ?" inquired Juliet, with an evident air of disappointment and vexation. " If you really want my candid opinion, I must say, Yes.

I cannot see that while you have one near and dear to you, needing and earnestly requesting the com fort of your companionship in his loneliness, you are called upon to pass him by, and go in search of others to help, who have no claim of relationship to plead. The path of duty is not always that which commends itself most to our inclinations, nevertheless it is the only path in which we may expect a blessing." Juliet looked very thoughtful, but the evening was fast passing away, and she was extremely tired. Her heart was too full of mingled feelings to make her anxious to prolong the subject ; so when her uncle ceased speaking, she merely bade him good-night, and escaped to her own room, there to lament the hard fate which she told her self was hanging over her. To live with Legh, that dogmatical, almost dissenting brother of hers, with whom, as she said to herself, she had scarcely an idea in common, was this to be the end of all those dreams in which she had indulged during all the intervals snatched from more painful reminiscences of the past?

Till this moment when they seemed altogether overthrown, Juliet had never thought how much her mind had become engrossed by these plans, nor did she now realize it fully. She thought still that in all this scheming, her aim was simply to give herself to the work for which she was most suited, and for which, therefore, she imagined herself destined ; and while feeling totally unable to deny the force of the arguments addressed to her, she was still convinced in her own mind that those who gave such advice were labouring under a mistake, and that her view of the matter was certainly the right one. " I believe it would be more sensible if I persisted in having my own way," she remarked the next morning, in reply to the inquiries of a friend who had called to con dole and sympathise, and to whom she had before con fided her wishes and intentions.

" My relations don't know me in the least, not even my brothers, or they would see as you do that I am not fitted to lead an idle life ; I must be doing, and if not good, I suppose I shall do mischief." " But with your brother, you need hardly lead a quiet life," suggested the friend ; " he will surely be glad of your help in his parish work." Juliet compressed her lips as she replied, " Mary, I have told you enough about Legh to prove to you that I couldn't work with him ; in fact he is so narrow-minded that I believe he thinks me an arch-heretic, and would be horrified at the bare idea of such a thing." " And yet you feel that you must go to him ?" her friend inquired. " Yes, — I'm sure you must think me silly, but the truth is I can't make up my mind to act in direct opposition to all their wishes. I must try it for a time; I don't believe it will last Iona;." O

Chapter II. Easydale

' ' Great gifts can be given by little hands, Since of all gifts, Love is still the best." A. A. Procter. Not far from the village church, somewhat retired from the high road that led through the town of Easydale, stood a square, compact-looking little house. It did not boast much in the way of garden beyond a diminutive lawn and a mound of earth, on which grew a clump of fine fir-trees; but it had a comfortable appearance, and on the particular evening of which we are about to speak — a gusty, rainy evening in the month of February — its well curtained windows, through which glimpses of fire-light glow were visible, must have made the passers-by look at it with longing eyes. And yet, amidst this appearance of comfort and home liness, lived one who often felt as if the sun of his life had set for ever.

It had been a happy home to him, but then a change had passed over it ; he scarcely felt now as if it were his home at all. Nor was the master the only one in whose heart there was a constantly-present, never-forgotten want. If we take a peep at the dining-room, from whose windows such a cheerful gleam EASYDALE. 12 escapes, we shall see there a very small person, with whom our tale has somewhat to do. The table is laid ready for tea, but the room is un inhabited save by this one small person — a little boy of about six years old. It is a strange little figure that, having drawn aside a fold of the dark red curtain, leans against the window as if the wild, stormy night had some incomprehensible charm for him. His face is pale, and there is a dark shade round the dreamy eyes, and the ex pression conveyed by the lines around the child's face is hardly that which we like to see in one so young.

It seems to tell of something amiss, not of unkind treatment— oh no, not that ; not of pain or suffering, though the face is thin and pale — rather, I should say, it tells of a great want, a craving, a longing unsatisfied. And yet there is no listlessness, no indifference in the child's aspect ; rather he seems to be continually expect ing and anxiously waiting for the attainment of that which he needs. Is it with some indefinite idea that this strange good is to be given him, that he now sits gazing out into the darkness, listening for some sound beside that of the howling wind? No ! I hardly think that in little Arthur Hayes' mind the expectation of the arrival of his Aunt Juliet had any connection with this strange craving. She was coming to take care of papa, and to keep him in order, so he had been told by nurse ; and this did not sound very encouraging, since keeping in order in nurse's vocabulary often included such unpleasant operations as going to bed in broad daylight, and eating rice-pudding when all appetite for such heavy food had gone.

It was more in the light of a change, which was not by any means a frequent occurrence, that Arthur had looked forward to his aunt's coming ; he had heard that she had just lost her mamma, and had therefore a dim presenti- EASYDALE. 13 ment that she would be unhappy and perhaps cry a great deal, which was of all things what he particularly disliked. It always made him feel so very bad, so choky and miserable. He had indulged in a great many surmisings as to what Aunt Juliet would be like, for he had no remembrance of her ; her last visit to Easydale having. occurred when he was barely two years old. Once or twice he had thought of seeking some information from his father, but a considerable degree of dread of Mr. Hayes was one of little Arthur's infirmities, and the idea had never borne fruit.

So here he sat on the window-seat this dark night, waiting and listening for his aunt's arrival, quite uncertain whether or not he was happy in the prospect; whether or not it was likely to bring him joy or sorrow. Poor little Ardiur ! Even more than his father was he to be pitied for the sudden terrible stroke that had carried away from him the one only of all around who fully understood that child's nature, and whose love would have been the stay and guide of his young life- His father, of course, all the world said was broken hearted ; but then he had his work to do, his habits were formed, and though no doubt his path in life was sadly lonely, the loss of his wife was not likely to lead him to forsake the safe road, which was all the more endeared and sacred to him since it had led her to her safe and happy home.

But for her child, how different was it : would any one tell him as she would have done, of the Shepherd's love for the tender lambs ? would any one be watchful as she would have been, to shield him from all impure or unholy companionship ? and would not that highly-sensitive, reserved nature be wholly incomprehensible to eyes not. observing and sympathizing as a mother's ? EASYDALE. 14 We say, and naturally, that providential dealings, such as that which removed Arthur's mother from her child, are mysterious ; we cannot see the why and wherefore, we say the child may be kept from evil, may grow up to be all his mother would have had him ; but why must he learn the hard lessons of life alone instead of sharing every experience with her, feeling less the sorrows of life, and rejoicing with double joy at its blessings from her sweet companionship ?

Why, indeed ; who can say, who dare say ? And yet would any doubt that the world has reaped blessings from the dearly-bought, hardly-earned "wisdom of some lonely souls who, deprived of earthly guidance, have been trained by God Himself for special ends ; — from those " who groaned inly while they taught ■us peace, and died while we were smiling ?" But to return to little Arthur alone in the dining-room. He had just begun to feel quite sure that a distant sound he heard was what he was listening for, when the door opened, and the young servant who acted as nurse to him and his baby sister, put her head in with the remark, "The fly is just coming up the hill, Master Arthur; so when Susan opens the door, you'd best run out to meet your aunt; she'll like to see you pleased to see her; and don't you go and be foolish and shy, or she'll think you as stupid as anything, and then she'll never like you, you may be sure of that."

Anne disappeared, and Arthur stood up and tried to collect his wits, but the sudden sense of responsibility that his nurse's speech had called up was very near pro ducing the result she most dreaded. If he was stupid his aunt would never like him. What was more likely to make him both shy and stupid than such a charge? Sud denly and with astonishing intensity the desire took possession of his heart that Aunt Juliet had never come EASYDALE. 15 to Easydale ; — that even yet something might prevent her coming, yes, though the carriage was stopping at the door, it might, it surely might contain nobody but his papa. Something might have hindered her coming, oh, if it only might, for at the sound of the driver's ring, Arthur be came quite convinced that it was all over with him, he was shy, he was stupid, and so it was quite certain his aunt would never love him.

Still in spite of his despair, he did remember enough of Anne's directions to steal out into the little hall, and place himself in such a very awkward position, that the driver who was just bringing in Miss Hayes' biggest box on his shoulder, never dreaming to find a child behind the door, had nearly deposited his burden on Arthur's head. It was this narrow escape that attracted Juliet's attention to her little nephew, and she turned to kiss him. Arthur could see very little of her face from the long crape veil which was but half thrown back ; but he did see that she did not smile as she looked at him ; and the terrible idea with which he had issued from the dining room was increased tenfold. At last the flyman was paid and dismissed, and then Mr. Hayes drew his sister into the dining-room.

" You must come and warm yourself, Juliet," he said, "and take a better look at my little man." Something like a smile was on his papa's face, and Arthur looked up timidly to meet the gaze that Juliet fixed on him ; half inclined to think that she must be nice in spite of what Anne had said, since her coming had made his father look happier than he had done for long before. " He is very like you, Legh," Juliet said, looking first at the child's face before her, and then at the strongly marked features of the brother by her side. " He is very EASYDALE. much changed since he was a baby ; I did not think he was at all like our family then." " No, and his little sister is just like what he was as a baby. When you are disposed to take your bonnet off, I will take you to see the little lady in her cradle.

Your namesake she is, Juliet, and I hope you will take to my poor little babe." " At least I shall know better what to do with her than with a boy," Juliet said, as she rose to follow her brother upstairs. She had no intention of casting any slight on Arthur, but this little speech did not raise his spirits, or tend to make him any more loving towards Aunt Juliet. And yet how glad he would have been to love her ! Arthur had no idea how pleasant it would be to be loved and to love his aunt till he heard her say those words, and felt the cold pain of disappointment in his heart. He almost wished he was not a boy, and, as he stood in front of the fire by himself, while they were upstairs, he found himself imagining how his aunt would have kissed and caressed him had he been a pretty little girl, instead of a very uninteresting little boy.