Sister

Chapter I

The town of Westport is situated on the south coast of England. It is not to be found in any map ; at least, such is the hope entertained by the writer of the following pages, the best atlas within reach having been carefully scanned before the name was ventured on as that of the scene of this story. Whether there is any real seaport in that part of England answering to the description of this imaginary one was not to be ascertained except by a journey of exploration, impossible at this moment to the conscientious historian. The chance reader in an actual Westport must therefore kindly accept the assurance that any such resemblance is fortuitous. VOL. I. a SISTER. Westport was not altogether an unimportant place. It had a fine harbour, was a military as well as a naval station, and possessed a considerable mercantile trade.

A College of high reputation attracted many residents ; and of late years accommodation for summer visi tors, long complained of as deficient, had been supplied by the extension of a suburb called West Westport, where bathing-machines and rows of white lodging-houses with green French shutters were beginning to give the C> G> C> air of a regular watering-place. I do not know how the accusation might have been taken from a stranger, but certain it is that, notwithstanding all the advantages here enumerated, the Westportians were apt to complain among themselves that the town was dull. It was at least eminently provincial. Society has always a tendency to divide into sets when there is any facility for so doing, and here there was every facility. It is easy to be social and cosmopolitan when the in convenience of a pleasant but disadvantageous SISTER. 3 acquaintance will vanish with the accident which has thrown us together for a short time, but more circumspection is necessary when we are likely to live in neighbouring streets for the remainder of our lives.

And the table of precedence is nowhere so accurately defined as in a small country society, where, too, any attempt to infringe its decrees is sure to be hotly resented, and to result in the discomfiture of the daring innovator. The " County " families in the immediate neighbourhood of Westport, serene in the possession of pedigrees, parks, and pine-pits, were wont to express complete ignorance as to the society — so called — of the " Town." They spoke with much disparagement indeed of all Westport productions ; and though their carriages were often to be seen in the High Street, where the principal shops were situ ated, one great lady was once heard to explain to a passing friend that she only did her " coarse " shopping in Westport, — a remark which she found some cause to regret a year SISTER. or two later, when her husband became a candidate for "the distinguished honour" (new style) of representing the borough.

These high personages occasionally extended their patronage to the winter assemblies, a chance concert, or a bazaar for some charitable object ; and it was touching to observe, on these occasions of approximation, how West port forgave their disdains and worshipped them. The upper stratum of society proper in the town consisted chiefly of the families of pro fessional men either retired or in actual practice, of persons connected with the various branches of the stationary Government establishments, and of some of the families who resided in Westport for the sake of the good and cheap education afforded by the College. The staff of the College occupied a somewhat intermediate position, the heads even enter taining relations with the county families, while the subordinate professors and the younger men formed a set pretty much among them- SISTER. 5 selves, and admitted to it such recruits as they found agreeable, with a certain laxity as re garded the principles of selection too often observable in persons who (Westportice) " go in for intellect."

There remains yet an important — perhaps, in the opinion of the young people, the most important — social element : the officers of the two services. It is true that, as one anxious matron was heard to remark, " Sailors are so unsatisfactory ; they are here to-day and gone to-morrow ; " but then this unfortunate lia bility only made them the more precious while attainable. The regiment, while it remained, was far more socially available, and the officers were universally popular. They were welcome everywhere, and in their quality of strangers no one thought of censuring them for any want of exclusiveness in their choice of intimates. They dined, shot, and visited at the neighbouring country-houses ; they adorned the numerous parties given in the town ; they were the prop of the winter balls SISTER. and the life of the summer picnics.

From time to time, indeed, society would be plunged in mourning as the sad news became known that the " First " had received their orders. The fatal day would arrive ; the gallant "First" departed, and were soon forgotten — except in a few instances — by the girls they left behind them, and who transferred their allegiance to the gallant " Second," in its turn to be one day supplanted by the gallant " Third." Perhaps no history has ever rightly a beginning, any more than an end ; but we must fall into its current at some definite point, and, in default of a better, let us take a certain autumn evening, when all Westport was assembled at a ball given by a very popular and agreeable regiment, which, after a station of some years in the town, was now under orders for India, and the officers of which were repaying the hospitalities they had received by a splendid entertainment.

The depot of the regiment was still to remain at Westport, so the sever- SISTER. 7 ance of its connection with the town was not as complete as usual. It was about eleven o'clock and the room was filling fast. Near the door stood two of the hosts of the evening, one of whom was evidently acquainted with every guest who entered ; xthe other, a very young man, had only just joined, and appeared to know but few of the inhabitants of Westport proper. " I say, Fiennes," the younger man was remarking, "who are those people just come in ? Such a pretty girl — two, indeed ! " " Yes, is she not a pretty girl ? " replied his friend. " That is Miss Sophy Anderson, and the other is her sister Josephine — her first appearance. That is a compliment to the 200th. I must go and make a pretty speech to little Miss Josephine."

" Little ! why she looks the older of the II two. " She is two or three years younger for all that, I should say. She has been peeping out at picnics and so forth this summer, but SISTER. I have never seen her at a ball before. Let me see, who are they with ? Oh ! I see, Mrs. Boyd. I don't perceive old Anderson, but I suppose he will not fail us, as there are the attractions of whist and a good supper to-night." " Who are they ? What is their father ? " "He is an old half-pay officer, of a very shady reputation, given up to general loafing, nips of brandy, and billiards at Farren's. The fact is, I fancy, he would hardly be tolerated at all but for the sake of his family. I believe the mother was a very nice woman, but she is now a hopeless invalid, paralysed or im becile, or something. The eldest daughter devotes herself to her.

I see she is not here to-night." " Is she as good-looking as her sisters ?' " Many people think Miss Anderson the handsomest of them all. She has such good o manners too — but that they all have. I don't know where they come from. These o_rls have always impressed me as being a cut SISTER. 9 above Westport, but they have great disadvantages, poor things." " Who looks after them ? " " Miss Anderson does all she can, but she is quite young herself. But, Clifford, how is it that you never met them before ? I thought you must know Westport very well. You belong to this county, don't you ?" "Yes, but our place is not very near — thirty miles good — and the rail did not help us at all till lately. Besides, I've been so little at home since I was a boy, what with school and cramming, and all that."

" Well, you'll have an opportunity now of improving your acquaintance, as you are to remain with the depot for the present. Come along, and I'll introduce you to Miss Sophy. She won't have a dance left in five minutes more. While this conversation had been proceed ing, another officer had discovered the Miss Andersons and was making his way towards them. He was a man of about twenty-eight SISTER. 10 years of age, but who looked considerably older. He had an intelligent face, a rather serious and reserved manner, and a very slight Scottish accent. No man in the regiment was better liked by those who knew him well, and his opinion had weight with far older men, who were invariably influenced by his firmness, justice, and self-control. He was evidently well acquainted with the two sisters, and he addressed himself to the younger, bowing low before her with an air of mock respect.

" How can we sufficiently acknowledge the honour done us by Miss Pheeny in making our poor entertainment the scene of her first appearance ? The recollection of it will refresh us in the sultry plains of Bengal, and the roar of the tiger will be drowned in reminiscences of the ' Lilien und Rosen ' waltzes. I see that is the next dance ; may I have the honour?" " I shall be very happy, Mr. Campbell," replied the girl, with the proper formality of SISTER. 11 a debutante. " Though," she added laugh ingly, " after that fine speech, the roar of the tiger will be everlastingly suggested to me by the — what do you call it ? — the big brass thing which makes such a noise. But do congratu late me on my wonderful luck. Of course I never dreamed of being allowed to come to this ball, for, you know " (confidentially) " I am not seventeen yet.

But the day before yesterday Colonel Eyre saw me walking with papa and Sophy, and he asked if I was com ing. And Sophy explained that I did not go to balls yet, and then he said he was sure I should like to come, and he asked papa as a favour to bring me, — did you ever hear any thing so kind? — and papa bowed and said certainly, and you may be sure Sophy and I held him to it ! " " Captain Anderson is not with you ?' " No ; poor papa has got the gout. It is not very bad, but he cannot put on a shoe. So we came with Mrs. Boyd, and she always dances everything, Sophy says, so we are sure SISTER. of staying to the very end. Oh, how beautiful the room is ! " "I am afraid," said Mr. Campbell with a slight hesitation, "that your sister — that Miss Anderson — does not intend to honour us to-night ?

" Josephine shook her head. "Last night poor mama was very ill. Jane had to send for Mr. Bailey in the middle of the night. She is much better to-day, and Mr. Bailey said he was not anxious, — otherwise, of course, we could none of us have been here, — but she is very restless and disturbed still, so Sister could not leave her, you know." She said this quite simply, as if Miss Ander son's preference of duty to pleasure was to be taken of course. Sophy heard the question and answer, and a sort of instinct prompted her to interrupt the conversation she was carrying on with a small knot of admirers to observe — " It was a great disappointment to my sister, I assure you, Mr. Campbell. I have never known her regret missing a dance so much." SISTER 13 Mr. Campbell bowed with a perfectly impassible countenance, and the quadrille being now ended, and a passage free, the young ladies and their escort proceeded up the room.

Mr. Clifford was duly introduced to Miss Sophy, and got his dance, — got, even, in the course of the evening, many dances, enough to elicit the inevitable remark from the watch ful matrons who lined the walls, that " Sophy Anderson was, flirting dreadfully with that young Mr. Clifford." And, sooth to say, the accusation was not entirely undeserved. Sophy, nineteen, pretty, admired, and innocent, had no notion of disarming gossip by a little prudence. Her good taste and quiet manner made it impossible for her to flirt in the West port sense of the word, but she was pleased with her new acquaintance, and flattered by his evident admiration ; and dance succeeded dance in a way which no sensible chaperon would have permitted without remonstrance. As to Charlie Clifford, he was, before the SISTER. evening was half over, what he would himself have described in another as "awfully spoony," and his condition was becoming matter of comment among the great ladies who occupied the sofas of honour, and formed a close cor poration among themselves.

An ordinary Westport flirtation would have been considered as a thing of course, and utterly unin teresting, but Charlie was " a county man," known more or less to them all, and they were animated in his behalf by a natural esprit de corps against the daughters of Heth. "What a pity it is," remarked Lady Fan shawe indignantly to her neighbour, the wife of the newly arrived admiral, " that Charles Clifford should make himself so remarkable with that horrid flirting girl ! This kind of garrison-town society is so ruinous to youno men." The lady addressed, having no daughters of her own, and no county sympathies to be aroused, merely smiled and observed, "She is a very pretty girl. Who is she ? " SISTER. 15 " Oh ! nobody at all. One of the Westport belles. Her name is Anderson. They have a horrid father, and no mother, I believe.

One sees them about first with one person and then with another. Such bad style, you know." " Poor girls !" replied the kindly Mrs. Free man, " it is a sad position for them in a town like this." " It is indeed," remarked Mrs. Stepney, a lady who was sitting on Mrs. Freeman's other side. " I cannot help feeling a certain interest in those girls. The mother is quite bed ridden, and her mind I believe is gone. Old Lady Hornby knew her very well, and she is always singing the praises of the eldest daughter. She is quite young and very hand some, and she has the whole burthen of the family on her shoulders, nurses the sick mother, and keeps things right as far as she can. I really feel very sorry for them ; but what can one do ? I was obliged to caution my girls not to get drawn into an acquaintance SISTER. if they meet them at Lady Hornby's. One must be careful here, and of course they are in all the second-rate Westport set ; it would be quite impossible to know them."

" Oh, quite so ! " chimed in Lady Fanshawe, "out of the question. Lady Hornby is an old woman, and eccentric, and I believe there was an early acquaintance, as you say. I have heard the eldest daughter very well spoken of, I must say. It is a pity she has not influence enough to keep her sister from making an exhibition of herself. A young fellow of Charles Clifford's age gets drawn in before he knows where he is." " Miss Anderson is not here to-night," replied Mrs. Stepney. " I see these girls are with that giddy little Mrs. Boyd, who pro bably has not seen them from the time they entered the room." " But the regiment is going away, is it not ? " said Mrs. Freeman. " Mr. Clifford will be out of danger from Miss Anderson's fascinations very soon." SISTER. 17 "Young Clifford does not goto India with them.

He remains here with the depot. Mr. Clifford was rejoicing about it only last week, when we met him at Dunham." " Is this the eldest son ? I suppose not." " No ; there is an elder brother, but he is in terribly delicate health. Their mother died of decline. There are two sisters." " Are they here to-night ? " " Oh, no ; they are too far off for this kind of thing. They have a curious old place in the north of the county. I never remember see ing any of them in Westport, except once when the Agricultural Exhibition was held here. They go out very little, even in their own neighbourhood ; so there is not much chance of their hearing of Master Charlie's misdemeanours." " I do not think you need be alarmed," said Mrs. Freeman, smiling. " In the multi tude of pretty girls there is safety, and I see a great many here to-night.

Young men can VOL. 1. b SISTER. generally take care of themselves. I feel much more disposed to wish it were possible to give the poor little girl a hint not to make herself conspicuous." "Oh! my dear Mrs. Freeman, believe me that is anxiety quite thrown away. You are not yet accustomed to the style of the West port young ladies. You will probably see her at the next ball with a fresh victim in her train, — and I am sure I hope so, for Charles Clifford's sake." But it is getting late, and the farewell' ball of the 200th is drawing to a conclusion. It was pronounced to be the best and most successful ever seen in Westport, and long kept the memory of the departing heroes green in the hearts of their countrywomen. By degrees the room began to thin, the guests from a distance first taking leave.

At last, even the few resolute dancers who remained began to slacken in their energies, and the cotillion died a natural death, Mrs. Boyd fortu- SISTER. 19 nately remembering her charges before she got into the carriage, and crowning her duties as a chaperon by saying kindly to Sophy — " I hope you have had plenty of partners, my dear ? " ( so )

Chapter II

On the morning succeeding the ball, Miss Anderson had much to hear from her sisters, especially from Josephine, to whom everything had been new and enchanting. Captain Anderson's facile consent to her accepting the invitation had been a source of great regret to the elder sister, who saw plainly that the premature and unnecessary emancipation from even the pretence of school discipline of a young girl of sixteen would be the inevitable consequence. Josephine was a clever girl, with a great deal of character ; and though she was affectionate towards her elder sister, and tolerably submissive to her gentle rule, Miss Anderson sometimes felt in her case the inconvenience of possessing no real autho rity. Her father's influence was worse than SISTER. 21 useless ; he rarely interfered in the manage ment of his children without adding to her difficulties by either foolish indulgence or petulant injustice, according to his mood.

But he dimly recognised the value of his eldest daughter, on whose young shoulders, when barely eighteen, the burthen of the whole family, including himself, had been thrown by her mother's illness. Mrs. Anderson had been a remarkable person. What could have induced her, with her beauty, good sense, and delicacy, to throw herself away on Captain Anderson, a handsome, brainless idler, was one of those enigmas in life of which we are always asking each other the solution. How soon she discovered her mistake, and how deeply she regretted it, no one could ever conjecture, for dignity as well as principle sealed her lips. She devoted herself assi duously to the care of her children ; and the admirable training she gave them, as well as her own example, promised to spare them many of the disadvantages incident to a SISTER. 22 residence in a town such as Westport, where, as she soon found, Captain Anderson's habits and tastes condemned them to but second-rate society.

She had had some fortune, which produced them a narrow but sufficient income, and gave him an immediate pretext, after his marriage, for retiring on half-pay. While she was at the head of the household, her husband continued to respect her, and — in some degree — himself; but since her influence had been withdrawn, he had drifted farther and farther into an idle existence of mere self-indulgence of the least elevated kind. To saunter to the club or the billiard-rooms, to mix himself up in all the petty squabbles of the set amongst whom he lived, were the serious occupations of his day, and cigars and brandy and water filled up the intervals. Mrs. Anderson's illness resulted from the shock of a railway accident. The paralytic seizure which followed had at first affected only her limbs, and for some months she was able to use her head, to transfer the reins of SISTER. government gradually to Jane, the eldest daughter, and to ponder anxiously and inces santly on the probable future of the young family to whom she felt herself so necessary.

She had lost some children, and four girls alone remained. Of these, Jane only, at the time of her mother's accident, had attained to womanhood. She had long been Mrs. Anderson's chief comfort, her inseparable companion and closest friend, and on her the mother felt she could rely with perfect confi dence to supply, as far as might be, her own place in the household. She had hitherto educated her girls herself, with the occasional assistance of masters, and of some classes at a fairly good school on the Terrace on which they lived. Now she at once airanged with the head of this establishment that Sophy and Josephine should be in future regular daily pupils. The little six-years old Sarah became lane's especial charge. But Mrs. Anderson's condition soon under went the change which her medical attendants SISTER. expected from the first.

The mind began gradually to decay. For a time her state was very distressing. Memory was the first faculty affected, and she imagined herself to be neglected, her wishes unfulfilled, and would piteously complain of the desertion of the person who might have been sitting by her all the morning. But she always knew Jane, always wanted her, always was soothed by her ; and the care of the precious invalid became more and more the chief business of the daughter's life. Within the last year or so, however, another change had taken place. Mrs. Anderson took less notice, had long in tervals of silence and stupor, and seemed in every respect weaker. Such was the position of the family at the moment when we have entered the story of their lives. The morning after the ball was a very fine one, and after dawdling over a late breakfast, Josephine, having been pronounced entitled to a holiday after the evening's fatigue and SISTER. 25 excitement, agreed with Sophy to go and call on some friends in West Westport, declaring that a nice long walk would do them all the good in the world.

Captain Anderson, with much grumbling, announced that he must try to hobble down to the club, where an exciting inquiry about a "row" between two members was pending. The doctor came and made his report, finding the patient languid and weak, but tolerably recovered from the recent disturbance. He recommended extreme quiet, and went his way, and Miss Anderson was finally left alone. She had accomplished all her ordinary morning's business, discussed the doctor's orders with the nurse, despatched a few items of housekeeping, and was sitting down to write a letter, when the sound of a footstep and a tap at the door were followed by the entrance of Mr. Campbell. Miss Anderson rose in extreme surprise. It was a rule that no gentlemen were ever admitted in Captain Anderson's absence, — a SISTER. rule absolutely necessary in the unprotected position of these young girls, and which not even their most particular and intimate friends were allowed to infringe.

Mr. Campbell has tened to explain his intrusion. " I was coming to your door," he said, "to inquire for Mrs. Anderson after your anxiety of yesterday, when I met your father, who found he had attempted more than he could bear in walking to-day. He was quite lamed, and he allowed me to give him an arm up the hill. He is gone to take off the offending boot, and he insisted on my coming upstairs and waiting for him. I hope I am not a very inconvenient visitor ? " " I am very glad to see you," said Miss Anderson. " My sisters have been giving me the most glowing description of your beauti ful ball." " I am glad they enjoyed it," replied he. " I will not pretend to say that I did. The disappointment of your absence was to me the more severe, as I had counted on that SISTER. 27 evening as a certain and rare opportunity of seeing and speaking to you."

Miss Anderson evidently did not receive this speech as one of mere compliment. She neither blushed nor smiled as she answered, in a low voice, but firmly and seriously — " I was very sorry to give it up. But there are sacrifices so clearly one's duty that there is no more to be said." She spoke as if words and tone might apply to sacrifices far more serious than that of an evening's pleasure, and he evidently under stood them thus. Becoming presently a little confused at the silence which ensued, she added, in a livelier tone — " The ball seems to have been really a splendid affair. Josephine's intense enjoyment is best expressed by saying that it was equal to her expectations, which I hardly believed could be possible." " I am going away," he said suddenly, putting aside her last remark, "but I cannot go without making one more struggle for my- SISTER. self, though I do so with very little hope of" She put out her hand with a quick gesture as if to stop him.

"Oh, don't, don't!" she said. " I understand : you are quite right — I could not. Spare me the pain of giving you pain ; let us say no more." " No," said he, " do not silence me. You will not give — you will spare — me pain by allowing me to speak openly to you. Treat me as a friend, not as a selfish, unreasonable lover. You cannot surely think that I, who have so admired and respected your beautiful performance of your duties, and who have been permitted to know something of your difficulties, would willingly add to those diffi culties, even to ensure my own happiness. I know that you could never leave your mother ; believe me, I never thought of asking it. But will you not let me take the hope with me that when she ceases to need your care I may claim you ? I should not speak of this now were I not going so SISTER. 29 far away.

But I ask nothing till you are free." Miss Anderson shook her head. " I should not be free," she said. " My poor mother is not my only care. I owe it to her to supply her place as far as I can with the others. Indeed I am grateful; I am deeply touched by your disinterestedness — by your care for me. I will not deny that, had I been free, I would have given you another answer. You deserve so much from me," she added with a sad smile. " But I venture to say this only because I am strong in my conviction of what is my duty. Help me to do it — do not break me down." " I will wait," he interrupted eagerly. " I will wait any length of time. You have a grown - up sister to take your place ; you cannot be called on to sacrifice your whole life to your family." "No, Sophy could not take my place. She is far cleverer than I am— she is the greatest help and comfort to me ; but she is SISTER. not strong, and she is too young to battle with the difficulties of our life, — difficulties which I foresee will not diminish.

I could not throw my burthen upon her. You told me to talk to you as to a friend, and I am doing so. I will speak to you of our position more openly than I have ever done to any one before. You shall judge. You know my father. I, his child, cannot sit in judg ment on him, but I think you must be aware that we cannot look to him for the kind of care and protection which would have made our situation very different. — I am saying shocking things ; I hate to seem undutiful. Believe me, poor papa was very different when my mother was among us. How can I wonder that, when the brightness and happiness of our house went with her pre sence, home became distasteful to him, and any distraction was caught at and became a habit ? I am very grateful to papa for the amount of influence he allows me in the house and in business matters.