Hannah Tarne: a story. By the author of 'Mr. Greysmith' [i.e. M. E. Hullah] . With illustrations, etc

Front matter

HANNAH TAENE " Her great brown eyes were looking far away."— p. 6. Front. HANNAH TARNE jl §toxy BY THE AUTHOR OF "MR. GREYSMITH" WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. J. HENNESSEY -HonOon MACMILLAN AND CO. Printed by R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. " Her great Brown Eyes were looking far away" . . . . . Frontispiece " Little Hannah, I have so longed to see you" .... To face page 67 " Look ! how I have torn my Dress ! " . „ 161 " She held out her Hand, which Otto raised to his Lips " „ HANNAH TAKNE.

Part I. Chaptee

I. "Noeh hat die Wissenschaft nicht vollkommen ergriindet, vrie sich die Heilquellen bilden, und Niemand karm ahneu, wie ein Mensch dem anderen durch unfassbare Vorbereitung zum Heil oder zur Umstimmung wird." — Berthold Auekbach. "I WILL not. I tell you I shall never like her!" " Now, Miss Hannah, don't take on so ; I daresay you will change your mind very soon, and be as happy as possible." " You know you don't think so." This was true enough, and the maid-servant began again on a rather different tack : " Well, miss, it's all for the best. I heard the Captain say so himself ; and what's the good of fretting ? See, how rough you have made your hair ; let me brush it before you go out." Hannah hated having her hair brushed ; she hated still more having to stand still, while Jane put on her jacket and arranged her necktie.

Her 5 B l 2 cheeks were scarlet with excitement, and her eyes swimming with unshed tears ; but she stood toler ably still, knowing that the ordeal would be sooner over in consequence, and then she would be free to get away and nurse her wrath alone. Perhaps a girl of her age ought to have been able to put on her own things for a morning walk in the Park; but Hannah had always been more or less spoilt — never made to do the thing she dis liked, and, on the other hand, often allowed to go her own way, as if she had been a grown-up girl. " You can come with me to the Park gate," she said, after some moments' silence. " Will you go for a walk by yourself again, Miss Hannah ?" asked Jane. " Yes ; Walter doesn't mind. I'm tired of being in this horrid house ; besides, I often go into the Park by myself in the morning."

This was a fact, as Jane knew, so she gave a final drag to her young lady's crepe-covered hat, and said that she was ready to start. The "horrid house," as Hannah called it, was at the corner of a terrace, not far from Primrose Hill. The terrace was very sheltered, and mar vellously sunny for London. Prom the top-floor windows you could see right across Eegent's Park, farther still, the towers of Westminster, and, on bright days, the glittering roof of the Crystal Palace. Hannah had lived her short life in this house, and as she uttered the ungracious word " horrid," a pang shot through her. A month ago, who would have dared to tell her that she would ever be so ungrateful as to abuse her own dear home ? "lam getting more wicked every minute," she thought, as she walked down the street, with Jane at her side ; " and it's not my fault.

I hate everything and everybody." " Miss Hannah, my dear ! " cried Jane, scared into being suddenly affectionate; "come back, come back!" They were in the middle of the road, and a hansom cab came rattling towards them. " Hulloa !" cried the cabman ; " hulloa !" Jane screamed, and Hannah ran right in front of the horse, through the mud, to the other side. She had been brought up in London, and prided herself upon not being afraid of crossings. There were two ladies in the hansom; one of them put up her umbrella to stop the cabman. Hannah could see that she wore a close-fitting bonnet aud a long veil. " All right, mum," said the man ; " there ain't no harm done. He's only fresh !" Once more the lady with the veil looked round, and then the cab went on again as fast as ever. " I'm going in here," said Hannah, as she stamped the mud off her feet ; " you needn't come and fetch me too soon."

" Very well. Do you know the time, miss ? " "Yes," said Hannah, pulling out her watch, '■' and I will be at the gate at a quarter to one." She went on quickly, down one of the side paths, still holding the watch in her hand. It was a handsome, old-fashioned watch, with a wreath of raised flowers round the edge, and a gold face. Hannah lifted it up and kissed the round glass ; she loved the sound of its sonorous tick-tick. "Dear Aunt Grace!" said the child, half aloud. " I'm glad Walter let me have your watch. Oh, I wish you were still here ! How shall I get on with Mrs. Hawksford ?" The ready tears began to fall now. She turned aside from the path and walked across the grass towards a clump of trees. She wanted to be quite alone. She was miserable and angry at the same time ; rebellious, and fighting against the inevitable, with all the strength of her healthy young nature.

Only a child, and struggling already with that which she had no power to alter ! " Why didn't Walter tell me before ? I shouldn't have minded half so much if he had let me know before. To be forced into having a stranger in Aunt Grace's place at a minute's notice ! I shall hate it. I know I shall hate it !" Before very long the fierceness of her passion began to wear itself out. There was a little wooden seat not far off; she walked towards it, glad to get out of the way of two people who appeared in the distance. Some of Hannah's friends thought her a pretty child, but though she had pushed her hair back and dried her tears, she did not look her best this morning. Her black frock and jacket were made of handsome material, but somehow they did not suit her stumpy little figure. Her face was still flushed, and there were dark lines under her deep-set eyes, sad to see.

The eyes were of a beautiful gray colour, and fringed with dark eyelashes ; she had a square-shaped chin, and sensitive lips — altogether an odd -looking face (set off by thick plaits of yellowish hair) and, at the present moment, a very weary one. The old seat was very comfortable. Hannah leant against its substantial arm (her feet hardly touched the ground) and stared across the grass at the distant view. The sun was shining, and the trees had begun to show signs of coming spring ; three or four stray sheep were nibbling the green grass : to Hannah's town eyes they looked fat and prosperous ; the drab-brown colour of their coats did not strike her as objectionable. Presently she heard steps, and looked up. Two ladies were walking slowly towards the seat ; one of them, who had a slight, tall figure, was leaning on the arm of the older lady.

Hannah left off shuffling her feet, and shrank up into a corner of the seat. She hoped that the ladies would pass on ; but no ! the younger one stopped, and said in a sweet, clear voice, " If you will go on, dear Granny, I shall be quite rested by the time you come back." " Just as you like, love ; it is so warm that I don't think you can catch cold. Good-bye." Hannah did not move ; she was much ashamed of her red eyes ; but as the old lady went along the path towards the lodge gate, she recognised her close bonnet and long veil. With a sudden impulse of curiosity, she turned to look at the other lady. She was quite young, and more beautiful than any living creature that Hannah had ever seen. She forgot her solitude, her misery, her one wish not to be observed, and fixed her eyes on the strange lady, who had taken a book from her pocket, and was slowly turning over the leaves.

The lady wore a mouse-coloured dress, and velvet jacket, and a bonnet with sky-blue bows ; her face was perfectly oval in form ; her wavy hair was brushed back from her forehead, but sundry little curls would not be tucked away with the rest, and were dancing about in dis order. She did not seem to be paying much atten tion to her book. Her great brown eyes (from under their arched eyebrows) were looking far away beyond the grass-plot and the sooty sheep. Hannah's umbrella fell with a crash to the ground, and knocked against the lady's dress ; then she turned and smiled ; her whole face lighted up with the smile, and the brown eyes lost their sadness. " Never mind, my dear ! I am afraid I have disturbed you." " No ; I was only "Well?" " Only looking at you !" Hannah stooped to pick up the umbrella.

As she stood upright, the lady's face suddenly changed, she held out her hand. " You are the little girl who ran in front of our cab just now. We were so afraid that you would be hurt. I do hope you weren't much frightened." "No — I mean, no, thank you. That's not the sort of thing that frightens me." "What does, then?" " Horrid stories about people I don't like, and — but you won't understand." " I will try, if you don't mind telling me.1 The tender brown eyes looked straight at Hannah. " Going on always the same, and everything being miserable, and getting wickeder every day, like me. I was rude to Walter ; and Aunt Grace is dead, and he says that some one must come and Eve with us, to look after me. I don't want her; indeed I don't !" Hannah poured this out, not in her former vehement manner, but in a voice of suppressed misery that surprised her companion.

" I am so sorry," she said ; " but don't you think that things often turn out different to what one [chap. I. 8 HANNAH TARNE. expects ? A great man has said that nothing that we feel is so bad as what we fear. But you are such a little girl to follow that." " I will tell you aU about it," exclaimed Hannah, shifting from her corner towards the lady, and knocking down the unfortunate umbrella for the second time; "and I'm much older than I look. I am twelve." "And I am twenty. It makes a great differ ence. Poor little woman !" The lady said this almost to herself, but Hannah's quick ears caught the tone of sympathy ; besides, with those glorious eyes looking pityingly at her, she could bear even a little advice on a subject that was so near her heart as this one of Aunt Grace's successor. " Walter only told me this morning that Mrs. Hawksford is coming to Eve at our house.

I believe she's his cousin. I saw her once when I was a little girl. I hated — I mean, I didn't like her, and I said so, and he was very vexed, and he's going away next week." " You must teE me who Walter is. " Walter ! Don't you know ? He's my brother, my step -brother, and one of my guardians too, and he has got a ship, and perhaps I shan't see him for a long, long time." The tears began trickEng down Hannah's cheeks ; she put up her hand, and made a black smudge across her face. " Don't cry," said the lady ; " I should so like to be able to help you." Hannah choked down her tears with an effort ; it was a great comfort certainly, to have some one to talk to, who was not Jane. So she poured out her little story — how when dear Aunt Grace was iE, Walter had taken her to stay with some cousins at Yarmouth ; and at first he had said that she might always live with them, even after he went back to sea ; but then he had changed his mind, and to-day he had told her that she must be a good girl, and learn to be very fond of Mrs. Hawksford ; " and I can't," said poor Hannah ; " I will try, but I know I can't." The strange lady did not ask many questions ; indeed, she was rather shy ; but she listened to what Hannah had to say, and seemed to understand her troubles.

Very soon the child began to feel happier, and when a beE rang in the distance, she jumped up, saying regretfuEy, "That's half -past twelve. I promised Jane I would be in time. I must go." " Would you like me to walk with you a little way ? " " Yes ; very much. I wish I needn't go, but I promised." Hannah put her hand into the lady's, and looked up in her face ; she had very childish ways certainly, in spite of her twelve years. " I promised, too, to wait in the Park for my gTandmamma." "Where do you Eve?" asked Hannah abruptly; '■' I should so like to come and see you." The lady laughed; she patted Hannah's hand. " My real home is at Highgate, but just now we are staying at a friend's house in Victoria Terrace. I wonder whether you would be aEowed to meet me again in the Park ?" "That's where we Eve too — at No. 1.

I am so glad ; now I shaE see you very often, I'm sure. Walter's sure to let me come." " TeE me what your name is. " Hannah Tarne." "You see, Hannah, I can't do anything without consulting Granny, but we wiE manage to see each other somehow. Now, I want you to let me put your hat straight; may I?" " Please," said Hannah gratefuEy. " And look here, take your handkerchief and rub that black smudge off your forehead." Hannah looked up and laughed. " I always am untidy," she said ; " and I was cross with Jane when she wanted to dress me." " You are not cross now ? " Hannah shook her head. "Well, promise me to behave nicely when you get home, and you will feel much happier ; and don't say any more unkind things about Mrs. Hawksford." " I wiE try." " I must go back to the seat now ; good-bye, Ettle CHAP. L] HANNAH TARNE. 11 Hannah."

Hannah put out a stiff arm, and shook hands — she had just caught sight of Jane coming across the road — " Good-bye," she said. " Who is that you have been talking to, Miss Hannah ?" asked Jane, who was of an inquisitive turn of mind. " She is a lady who is staying in our terrace." " Oh," said Jane, looking after the slight, girlish figure. " What's her name, miss ? " " I don't know. Wait for me a minute, Jane." Hannah left her umbrella with Jane, and rushed headlong after her new acquaintance. " Stop ! do, please !" she gasped. The lady stopped. The colour came into her cheeks, and Hannah thought she looked like a picture that Aunt Grace had once taken her to see in a church. " WiE you tell me who you are ? I forgot to ask you." " My name is Euth — Euth Penwarden." '' I must go ; Jane is waiting."

Hannah still held the corner of the lady's jacket, and hesitated. " You were going to ask me something else, weren't you ? " asked Euth. " Don't be afraid." " May I kiss you ?" Euth smiled and stooped towards the child. Hannah flung her arms round her neck. " I thought you wouldn't mind," she whispered ; then, without looking at Euth again, she retraced her steps and walked home with Jane quite happily. Hannah Tarne was an orphan : she had lived a cheerful, contented life up to the present time. Walter (who, by -the -bye, was not yet Captain, though Jane invariably gave him that title) was more than twenty years older than his little step sister. He was not very fond of her, but he thought he had done his best in asking Miss Tarne to come and keep house at Victoria Terrace, and to look after Hannah.

This plan had answered very well, though perhaps Aunt Grace, in her fondness for her dead brother's child, had given way to Hannah's peculiarities of character, and done her best to spoil her. Soon after Walter's return from a three years' voyage his aunt's health had failed rapidly, and she died before Hannah could be fetched home from the seaside. The child had grieved bitterly over the loss of Aunt Grace ; but Mrs. Dodd, the cousin who had taken her in, was very kind ; and when AValter went down to Yarmouth he found her so happy, that he had not liked to say that she must soon come home and make the acquaintance of Mrs. Hawks ford, who was to take the place of Aunt Grace. So the new arrangements had aE burst upon poor little Hannah at once. She had not exaggerated in saying that she had been " rude to Walter ;" it was the remembrance of her own speeches — " You don't care what becomes of me ;" "I shall never Eke Mrs. Hawksford," — that helped to increase her misery.

However, the paroxysm was over for the present, and she spent a comparatively happy afternoon putting her book-sheE to rights, and dusting the pet ornaments and treasures, that had been packed away for so many months. Hannah had sharp ears, and in the middle of her work she heard the click of Walter's latch-key ; she left her books in a heap on the floor, and went to peep over the balustrades. She saw him take up a letter and open it, then he shouted, "Hannah! come down." He was a short, slight man, with quick, dark eyes : he did not look at all like a sailor. " This is something for you, child," he said, putting the letter and a card into her hand. " For me !" exclaimed Hannah, staring. " Why, it's your letter." " Yes, I know, but it is aE about you. There, you may go if you like. The Actons are away, but this good lady seems to wish to know you.

Take it up to Jane." "Are you going out directly?" Hannah stood twisting her fingers awkwardly. " Yes, when I have finished my letters. Do you want anything ?" " Walter, I am sorry ; you know — this morning He had put his hand on the study door already, but he paused to say : " Eh ! oh, about Mrs. Hawksford, — Cousin Ada, I suppose you must call her. That wiE aE come right, and you wiE soon get into her ways. Now run up to Jane." Hannah went as she was told. It was not exactly a satisfactory explanation ; he did not seem to understand her attempt at an apology, but she felt much happier; it was one step in the right direction. It was a pity that Walter was always so busy. What was the letter about ? She unfolded it. Quite a short note in thin, pointed handwriting. Mrs. Penwarden presented her compliments to Mr. Tarne, and hoped that he would aEow her to do herself the pleasure of inviting his little sister Hannah to spend the following afternoon with her, at the house of their mutual friend Mrs. Acton, whom she was visiting for a few days.

A very prim little note indeed ; it took Hannah some minutes to make it out ; then she glanced at the card, — Mrs. Penwarden. Miss Ruth Penwarden. Hannah flushed crimson with joy and excitement. She stopped to look at the card again, to be quite sure that it was the right name ; then ran upstairs, two steps at a time. She upset the heap of books, that she had left on the floor, in her eagerness to find some one who would sympathise with her. Jane was sewing in the workroom, she was not in the best of tempers, and did not at all approve of Miss Hannah's way of bursting into the room, and knocking over the cotton-basket. " Look what you have done, miss !" " Never mind," said Hannah," " I'll pick them up again. I have had such a delightful invitation for to-morrow afternoon ! I am going to see the lady I met in the Park.

She is staying at Mrs. Acton's." "Was it that lady you met, Miss Hannah?" asked Jane, suddenly becoming interested ; "to be sure, poor thing, she has been there some days. Mrs. Acton's cook told me aE about it. Poor thing ! Yes ; dear me !" "Why do you say, 'poor thing ' ?" "WeE, I don't know that I ought to teE you anything about it, miss ; it's not for little girls." " Do, please," begged Hannah, putting aside the thought that she ought not to listen to gossip about other people's affairs. After a little more persuasion, Jane launched forth into the story which she had heard from Mrs. Acton's cook : — That Miss Penwarden was very delicate ; she was to have married a young gentle man of large fortune, but he had gone hunting lions and tigers in Africa or America (she couldn't remember which), and had got killed, and never came home again.

And the young lady had so taken it to heart that she had never got over it, though she was cheerful-like now, and for years she had always said he would come back again, and was always on the look-out for him, as one might say. It had undermined her health, and the doctors said " "What?" gasped Hannah. " Well, miss," continued Jane, who had, according to her ability, conscientiously repeated the story that had been told her, " they do say that she can never be the same young lady again — never again," said Jane, drawing now on her powers of imagination ; " she comes of a weakly family ; her poor mother went off in a galloping consumption, and they say Miss Penwarden takes after her." " I don't beEeve a word of it," exclaimed Hannah, indignantly. " Oh, very weE, miss ! Don't ask me no more stories, that's all."

" But, Jane," said Hannah, suddenly changing to a piteous tone of voice, " she is so beautiful ; she can't be iE. And besides, how does Mrs. Acton's cook know anything about it ?" " Looks are very deceitful, Miss Hannah. You might think I was strong and hearty to look at me. And as for Mrs. Acton's cook, you may be sure she only says what she knows." " That isn't any answer. I shall ask Walter." " Don't think of such a thing, pray, miss. Now go and play with your doll's house, do ; and be sure you don't say a word of this at Mrs. Penwarden's ; they don't like it talked about." " Then why do you talk about it ?" was on the tip of Hannah's tongue, but she refrained from saying it, as she remembered that she had teased Jane into telling her the whole story. She stood silent at the table, snipping a piece of calico into small pieces with the cutting -out scissors.

Jane, for a wonder, was silent too. She was repenting that she had talked so openly to the child, and turning over in her mind how she could best change the subject. " Such a queer little girl as she is ; you can't tell where to have her. I don't envy this Mrs. Hawks ford, I'm sure." " Go and dust your doE's house, do, Miss Hannah." " I haven't opened my doll's house for a year. I don't care a bit about it." " Look at all them books in a heap. What a pity ! ShaE I help you put them away ? " Jane got up and went into Hannah's little room. Sud denly a thought struck her. " Miss Hannah, my dear, would you like me to trim your other hat to go to Mrs. Penwarden's in ? Because we might go out now and buy the things. FE do it for you the first thing to-morrow morning." " WiE you really, Jane ? I thought you were too busy."

Hannah was pleased, she did not generally care much what she wore, but she did feel that she should like to look her best to-morrow. It was a c HANNAH TARNE. . [chap. I. lovely evening, and her spirits rose out-of-doors. Jane was in a good temper, and listened to aE Hannah's chattering with respectful interest, and even allowed her to choose the feather for her hat. As they passed Mrs. Acton's house, she said in a whisper, " Be sure you don't say anything about lions or tigers when you're there, Miss." Hannah did not answer; perhaps she had not heard ; so Jane turned her attention to other matters. Hannah put all the books to rights that evening, and dusted the nick-nacks, hi case she mightn't have time to-morrow. She was not much more than a baby in many ways, and her " treasures," as she called a collection of rubbish and odds and ends, were a great delight to her.

Now she had a new one, — Mrs. Penwarden's note, — and then there was the card with Euth's name on it ; that was certainly too precious to part with just yet; she would take it to bed with her. Presently she had to go downstairs and sit at the side of the table while Walter had his dinner; he liked her to appear, though he was so busy reading the paper that he had no time to talk. " I have written to Mrs. Penwarden," he said, as Hannah wished him good-night. She went to bed in a very happy frame of mind. She only waited tiE Jane had taken the candle and left the room, to get the card out of a table-drawer and slip it under her pillow. She had said her prayers, of course, but there was a short verse that she had always repeated, ever since she was a tiny child, before going to sleep. To-night, after a little hesitation, she added a few extra words to her thanksgiving — ■ " Thank God for my dear friend."

Euth Penwarden sat with her grandmother in Mrs. Acton's drawing-room. " I have had a polite note from Mr. Tarne," observed Mrs. Penwarden, " and the little girl may come. I really feel grateful, dear Euth, that she was not injured by the wheels of our cab : the driver was quite reckless." " I don't think she was even frightened, dear Granny, certainly not so frightened as we were. I hope you will like her ; she is the oddest Ettle girl ; but Mrs. Acton says that she has been brought up in a curious way, which of course accounts for it." "Poor Ettle dear!" said the kind-hearted old lady ; " she must be very dull." " That did not seem to strike her. All her troubles were about a lady who is coming to look after her. I can't get her sad face out of my head at all ; we must ask her to come and stay with us, shaE we?"

" Just as you like, Euth, only don't undertake too much ; wait and see what you think of little Hannah Tarne to-morrow." Euth was leaning back in an arm-chair; she wore a dark-red dress, with white lace ruffles. At [chap. I. 20 HANNAH TARNE. her side stood a tall wax candle; she had pulled it quite close to her, that she might see better to finish a delicate piece of needlework. The waves of hair that would not Ee straight looked quite golden in the candle-light; her cheeks were pink, and her glorious eyes were fuE of love as she turned to the old lady. " I am really better, dear Granny, and truly and honestly, I have taken a great affection to this forlorn child ; I feel as if I should Eke her for a little sister." Exactly as the clock struck three Hannah walked up the steps of Mrs. Acton's house.

The new hat was a decided success (Jane had taken a great deal of pains with it), and the Ettle face underneath it was wreathed with smiles. Hannah was supremely happy, only rather nervous, as the servant flung open the drawing-room door and announced Miss Tarne. But the reception she met with quite took away her fears. " Here you are, Hannah," said Euth, getting up to meet her ; " now let me introduce you to grandmamma ; you must be great friends." Mrs. Penwarden kissed her and said how glad she was that she had been allowed to come. Then Euth said that she must take her thino-s off. Upstairs, Hannah was delighted to find that Euth had the room wliich corresponded with her own at home, only the view was a Ettle different. Euth showed her a sketch that she had made of a little bit of the Park, where a few of the bushes had a decidedly green tinge, and the mist looked blue in the distance.