St. Erle

Chapter I

We sail the sea of life ; a calm one finds, And one a tempest ; and, the voyage o'er, Death is the quiet haven of us all. WORDSWOKTH. No. 3, Snow Lane. It was certainly not a cheerful abode, and especially on a dull, damp winter's day. The window of its front parlour faced a dingy, painfully tidy street with even rows of doors painted a blackish brown, excessively polished footscrapers, and depressing looking windows, which in early spring glowed resplendently with boxes of gorgeous yellow crocuses, and many coloured hyacinths in many coloured glasses. It was a very dreary day with just a glimpse of heavy, leaden sky visible between the long vista of houses, and the rain falling in a small, unsatisfactory drizzle. Within the parlour shabby yet clean furniture met the eye, also a brilliant papering upon the walls covered with pale green mountains, cascades of exceedingly blue water, impossible palm trees, and bright crimson birds of Paradise poised in various graceful attitudes.

The walls were furthermore adorned with six prints in black wooden frames, depicting B ST. ERLE. in vivid colouring the creation of the heavens and the earth. There was a stand with a small microscope upon it, and a shelf containing a few scientific and theological works of a miscellaneous nature. Two gems of art, though strangely out of place amid their somewhat plebeian sur-» roundings. gave an air of refinement to the room — relics these, of better days : one was an exquisitely carved statuette of Beatrice, the other, a fine bit of unframed landscape painting fastened over the mantelshelf. The parlour contained four individuals ; a small child of six years old, with a regular gipsy face, a cropped head of black hair, and a very soiled pinafore ; a little wizened looking elderly lady busy adding up accounts at the table ; a tall, handsome boy of thirteen, clad in black knicker bockers, stretched full length on the hearth-rug, propped up on his elbows, his head resting on his hands, and his dark eyes eagerly devouring the pages of a torn, dirty looking volume — and lastly, a broad-shouldered young priest with remarkably long legs, who was sitting in front of the fire, his elaborately slippered feet in somewhat dangerous proximity to the few red embers still glowing in the grate.

The fact that the wizened little lady absorbed in accounts, a young brother, and three sisters, were in a great measure dependent upon his exertions for a subsistence, accounted most probably for the slightly harassed expression of his countenance, and the worn, shiny appearance of his clerical black ; as also the fact of his being senior curate of a fashionable Donnington church, with the liberal stipend of one hundred and fifty pounds per annum, might account for the slippers. A poor curate, placed in such afflictive circumstances, naturally proved an object of interest to deft-fingered, tender-hearted young ladies, although a better exercise of their susceptible charity, might have resulted ST. ERLE. more profitably in a good flitch of winter bacon for the not overstocked larder of No. 3, Snow Lane.

" What have you there Tony ? " asked the long-legged ecclesiastic rousing himself from a lengthened meditation. " ' Midshipman Easy.' It's a stunning book. I say, Jim "— " Well ? " " I must go to sea ;" and the boy sprang from the ground lightly as a greyhound, tossing his greasy book on to the table, and startling the nervous little aunt from her accounts. " You'll do no such thing," said the Rev. James, removing his feet from the top bar of the grate where they were becoming uncomfortably warm ; " do you dream of running away ? " " No ; it's beastly." " So it is, and I hope you will never attempt such a thing. We'll see what sort of a fellow two more years of mathematics and Latin will make of you. Then if you still wish to be a sailor you shall, but until then — no more of this nonsense Do you understand ?

" " All right," said Tony carelessly. " I say, Meg — ' " Do you want your ship ? " asked the child eagerly, descending from her dreary station in the^ window seat. " No — you're always bothering about that ship. I want my boots if you'll fetch them. I am going with Jim to meet Dr. Beresford. Have the girls come in yet ? " " Yes. I heard Lottie's voice ten minutes ago." " Then I recommend you to tidy yourself My ! what a guy you are — you'll catch it if they see you : have you been getting in the coals ? " " No," said Meg indignantly ; " I've been helping Obadiah to break chips in the yard," and she departed to ST. ERLE. fetch the boots, finally disappearing into the upper regions to put on a clean pinafore, and reduce the dirty hands and arms to the approved raw beefsteak hue, by means of a severe application of cold water and common soap.

More cheerful was the scene in the back parlour, where the fire burned brightly, and two girls stood talking in the gloaming by the window — the elder, tall, elegant, and beautiful — the younger, a queer little slender thing with a lanky figure, a head of short, thick, and not particularly tidy black hair, and a pair of uneasy dark eyes. A strange, wild life lived Lottie Forryst in that restless little soul of hers, and not always a happy one, as her somewhat careworn brow testified. Of a nature intense, proud, yet sensitive, she suffered keenly and enjoyed keenly as only such natures can ; with a mind half chaos, and a heart full of poetry and passion and deep, mournful notes of music unable to struggle into outward expression. Many such move around us, — souls full of crude philanthropy, and bright ethereal dreams oddly intermixed, often turned into beautiful harmony by the steadying discipline of sorrow, yet oftener, alas ! resulting in lives, which are one long, strange mistake.

By no means a pretty girl was Lottie Forryst, and she knew it, and daily endeavoured to reconcile herself to the unpleasant fact. An attempt hitherto unattended with success, for no woman however plain, can be supremely indifferent to her personal appearance. Yet notwithstanding Lottie's plain face, shabby mourning dress, and work worn hands, there was all the daintiness of the lady stamped upon her. And how came these two maidens to be living in so poor an abode ? That afternoon they had been talking of it — of the time long ago, when their father, David Forryst, ST. ERLE. a hot-headed youth then of one and twenty, had foolishly fallen in love with a little Italian flower girl and married her. A most romantic affair certainly ; keenly had the imaginative youth enjoyed it then ; perhaps not quite so keenly did he relish the consequences of his rash act, when after a vain appeal to his father's clemency, he turned in angry grief from the gates of his ancestral home, a portion less son.

Whither should he flee, and what should he do ? In the first place, he fled to the city of Donnington, and in the second he turned pedagogue, just succeeding in keeping himself from debt, and his wife and children from starvation, proudly refusing to ask his father's assistance, and in his pride keeping aloof from every one save Dr. Ebenezer Beresford, an old college chum, who rose up a true friend to David in an hour of sore need, when sickness and poverty were making sad havock in the little home at No. 3. The mother and three younger children were carried off by fever in one short week, and the school dispersed. David never rallied : after three miserable years of weakness and depression, he also died. The assistance hitherto rendered by Dr. Beresford, had been entirely of a professional nature, David in his pride refusing all pecuniary aid.

Now however, the good doctor felt at liberty to act as he pleased, and it was chiefly owing to his kindly help that James had obtained his brief college edu cation, and his appointment to the senior curacy of St. Augustine's, Turf Street. Lottie had been companion for nearly a year to an English lady residing in Rouen, but had now returned home for good to superintend Meg's education, and Hyacinth, the beauty of the household, contributed her share towards the maintenance of the family by painting handscreens for an extensive Berlin Wool Repository in ST. ERLE. the heart of Donnington. The little lady familiarly called " Aunt Lucy," although merely a distant connection of David Forryst's, had rendered herself an invaluable treasure to the family by her ready help and unwearied services in the time of their sorrow and difficulties.

She was darner of stockings, recipient of confidences, and sympathizer in general. So the orphans stood talking of the past, the present, and the future Too severe and recent had been the pain of the past to allow of their looking very hopefully into the future. Across it rested a dark shadow of weariness and work, and daily contact with unloving unsympathetic minds, less acutely felt by the sanguine and beautiful Hyacinth, than by Lottie with her plain features and over sensitive heart. " I suppose it will result in governessing," said Lottie after a prolonged gaze at the falling rain pattering briskly now upon the roofs of the houses, and the fog curling slowly round the chimney-tops. " I had far rather be upper housemaid in some grand nobleman's mansion," laughed Hyacinth, " where the son and heir would accidentally catch me sweeping the stairs some morning when he descended earlier than usual to go a fishing expedition Of course he would fall in love with me on the spot, defy the world, and marry me.

Oh ! Lottie what fun, when he discovered, that instead of a plebeian little housemaid, he had married a girl with a most respect able pedigree and a rich old uncle. By the way, Lottie, where is that old uncle Dick ? " " In India, I believe, Dr. Beresford told Jim that Chiswick Park is a perfect wilderness No one knows whereabouts uncle is, he never stays more than a month in one place. I don't want his money 1 am sure, but I do ST. ERLE, wish we had had a better education. How I am to teach I do not know. I cannot speak good French, or paint like you, and I never touched a piano in my life. Mrs. Soames, in Rouen, hadn't one, and disliked music intensely." " Oh, you'll not have to teach very long. Some high minded treasure of a man will discover your latent talents and virtues, and you'll soon be settled in a happy little home of your own, far from the evils of governessing."

" I shall be ' Lottie Forryst ' to the end of the chapter," said that young lady decidedly ; " I mean to be — that is another thing. I exhausted all my stock of sentimentality in Rouen, now I am excessively commonplace, by and by I shall turn practical, and eventually, I intend to be a Sister of Mercy. Jim shall not have me to keep. I mean to work. Don't talk to me of high-minded treasures of men, Hyacinth dear. Men are not fond of latent qualities either good or bad, and so they scarcely ever trouble to look for them. Neither are they fond of peculiar faces like mine, or high shoulders, or hands with traces of good, solid housework upon them, especially when they can't play the piano." " Why do you chalk out such a melancholy map for yourself?" asked Hyacinth a little impatiently. " Because then I can never be disappointed.

I am rather afraid of your airy impossibilities, and in general, you know I am not apt to take a melancholy view of things." They stood silently by the window for another ten minutes listening to the great cathedral bell as its deep, lingering voice rang through all the fog, over the house tops, and along all the streets of smoky old Donnington. " When the governessing is ended, I mean to be a Sister of Mercy," continued Lottie as the last stroke of ST. ERLE. the bell died away : — "it is such a speech as you might expect from some silly, disappointed woman, isn't it Hy, who thinks her sorrow a great deal too sacred to be endured in the common world ? I can understand " — and the girl's voice grew soft and her dark eyes dreamy, " I can under stand such a feeling very well, but it is silly — it is weak.

Hyacinth — shall we ever be satisfied and happy ? " " Someday, I've no doubt," and Hyacinth stole a sisterly arm round Lottie's neck. Someday ! It is a cheering little word, and how often we build fair hopes upon it, yet for many of us the some day of our earnest expectation never arrives — never can arrive in this life. Therefore, let us believe. In that great eternity which lies dimly before us, the heart's thirst for happiness will be assuaged, the soul's hunger satisfied ; though it must be confessed that as the blank chaos of almost unimaginable joy presented itself to Lottie Forryst's mind, she did not much relish the prospect. " We'll have a pot of our treasured marmalade as Dr. Beresford is coming," she said at length, descending to the sublunary ; " I promised him one cup of weak tea.

Had you not better tell Betsey, while I tidy a little." Hyacinth departed into the kitchen below, while Lottie effected a transformation in the parlour. The hearth was swept, the lamp lit, and the curtains drawn. A snowy cloth, and tea-things were spread upon the table, and even the common paper, pictureless walls, and sober furniture did not materially detract from the general appearance of cosiness. Presently Tony bounded in, followed by the benignant faced doctor, and Betsey Hook. Betsey had a favour unto Dr. Beresford, and for two reasons. First, because he always ST. ERLE, had a kind word for her when he came, and a guinea every Christmas ; secondly, because he took a deep interest in " her pretties " and the " young gentlemen," in whom Betsey had taken similar interest ever since they were born.

No. 3, Snow Lane, was the property of Betsey and her husband Obadiah, a pale, emaciated individual with a sunken visage, who pared the potatoes, turned the mangle, and made himself generally useful. They had no children, and Betsey consequently devoted herself to those of David Forryst, lavishing on them her wealth of faithful womanly affection. David had inhabited No. 3, ever since his flight to Donnington, and poor as he was, had always paid his rent regularly. This pleased Betsey, who was in everything, the soul of punctuality. Independently of this, " he was a nice gentleman in hisself, and allers kind. What a pity as their uncle Richard didn't take up the pretties, as was as rich as Crokus as every body knew They icas ladies and no mis take, and politer or prettier spoken never breathed.

Their uncle Richard — he needn't to be ashamed of them although they couldn't speak Italian like their poor ma, and didn't wear tunnies and paniels like other young ladies. Miss Hyacinth with her right beautiful face was sure to be a duchess some day." Obadiah ventured to question this latter probability, acquainting Betsey with the fact, that " duchesses came next to the Queen on her throne, and it wasn't likely as Miss Hyacinth would be meeting folk of that sort." But Obadiah's opinion being quite a secondary affair, Betsey " soothed " him into silence, that safeguard and only peace of henpecked husbands, assuring him that he "knew no more about 'igh folks and the haristocracy than a pig." " Well, my dears," said Dr. Beresford, as he seated himself opposite Lottie who always officiated as tea maker : ST. ERLE.

" we must have our bit of gossip, but first, who made this delightful marmalade ? " " I did," said Lottie smiling. " It looks first rate," pronounced the doctor, helping himself extensively thereto : — " my wife couldn't do better, and she's a capital cook. I'm as fond of marmalade as I am of music, and my dears, before I proposed to my wife (four and thirty years ago) I took good care to ascertain that she could make both. But the old lady's playing days are over now." " It is very few people who can make good music, said Lottie pouring out the tea. " Ay, child," replied Dr. Beresford, glancing at the well-developed musical organs over the girl's eyebrows ; " and few who can appreciate it either. Nine people out of ten don't know how to listen even, and when the music's over, utter devout thanks for what they have not received.

We have some grand music in Culcrowthie Vale ; there is Miss Hirste who sometimes stays at the Priory ; and Laura Maxwell, with a voice that makes you shut your eyes. You know what sort of a sensation that is — eh Lottie?" " Oh yes, I know. Is this the Miss Maxwell who is so very beautiful ? " " Beautiful enough, but she'll riot beat you, lassie," and the doctor patted Hyacinth's small, white hand which lay on the table close beside him. " Thank you," said she, laughing, and blushing a little : " I shall know where to come when I want a com pliment. How old is Miss Maxwell?" " Twenty last birthday. She's a great pet of my wife's. By the way, Jim, can you spare these two girls a wee — there is nothing now to prevent their coming ?" ST. ERLE. "To Culcrowthie?" " Yes. What says aunt Lucy ?" " I don't — I don't know — I'm sure," said Miss Forryst, in her nervous, hesitating manner ; " You see doctor, things — things are so — so altogether different."

" An exact echo of David," muttered the doctor shrug ging his shoulders : " come, come aunt Lucy, pride must have a fall ; let it be now and for ever. The girls must see a bit of life. To refuse to let them come to Oak Hall now, is to express a doubt as to whether they possess that excellent quality usually called common sense. Let it be a fair trial, and if they suffer from the result, why, they needn't come again, that's all. Eh girls — do you care to come ?" Care to come ! Lottie and Hyacinth looked at one another in mute delight, while before their minds floated a charming vision of luxurious, old-fashioned rooms, and large grounds, drives, walks, and pleasant society, " fresh air " — a thing not obtainable in Snow Lane — rest, holiday time, and " dear Mrs. Beresford." Tears filled Lottie's eyes as she thought of the delight of quitting Donnington smoke and Snow Lane for a season.

" Bless me ! " said Dr. Beresford, " I didn't mean to make you cry. Then you'll come ?" " Thank you, indeed we will — but — Lottie's thoughts were running on her scanty ward robe, and her best dress — a black merino with only one crape flounce on the skirt. Hyacinth thought with equal dismay of the late dinners and perpetual popping-in-and out system greatly in vogue as she was aware at Oak Hall. Then there was Colonel Maxwell residing at the Priory, his beautiful daughter, and four handsome sons, who would, of course, be immensely fastidious ; also his stately sister, for ST. ERLE. the Colonel had lost his wife many years before, and Miss Maxwell had reigned quietly at the Priory ever since. Dr. Beresford was the Colonel's physician, and very intimate at the Priory. No, the black merinos wouldn't do at all.

" But what were you going to say ?" asked the doctor who knew perfectly well. " I was thinking of my best dress," said Miss Lottie candidly — " you see — " " Oh, bother the clothes," said he taking a second edition of marmalade : " my wife and the dressmaker will settle all that's necessary. We want you — not the best dresses." " I say — how awfully jolly ! " remarked Tony with glittering eyes : " the sea's near Culcrowthie, isn't it?" " What a nautical way of putting it," said Dr. Beresford laughing : " yes, the sea is about six miles off — a place called Murphon. We'll have you and Meg down there sometime, with aunt Lucy to keep you in order ; but it must be Lottie and Hy first, they are looking pale. How's the cough, Lottie ?" " Quite gone, thank you — I left it in Rouen." " Ah, Rouen ; did you enjoy it child ?"

" Oh, excessively. I never liked any place so much ;" said Lottie speaking quickly. There were bitter, yet de lightful remembrances connected with that sojourn in Rouen, known only to herself and another. " Then it's all arranged," said Dr. Beresford as soon after tea he took his leave : " on Tuesday, the day after Chrismas day ; I shall come for you. I thought I would leave you your Christmas day in Snow Lane. On New Year's day is a grand ball at the Priory, which of course you'll be asked to. Don't forget now — we start on Tuesday morning at eight a.m. and I'll bring a cab. Here's some- ST. ERLE. 13 thing my wife sent with her love, which will be useful to the lassies," he whispered, crumpling a crisp ten pound note into aunt Lucy's hand as she stood on the wet doorstep to bid him goodbye : " don't bother about the ball dresses — I brought something down from London last week which the good wife praised finely, and pronounced to be suitable," and before aunt Lucy could thank him, he was gone.

" Quite a mercy ! " exclaimed Betsey, as Miss Forryst with nervous, trembling hands smoothed out the acceptable bank note on the kitchen dresser in an affectionate state of delight : " bide till the morrow afore you tell them Miss Forryst. they've had enough for one day." " They have ; " assented aunt Lucy ; and then followed a long confabulation concerning tin boxes, new things, and the getting up of collars, cuffs, &c. After which the excitable little lady fussed away to drag the unwilling Meg off to bed. "And are you going to capture any Culcrowthie curates Hy?" said Jim, as on his return from even song, he again resumed the gorgeous slippers, with the additional comfort of a snug, loose house coat, like Joseph's, " of many colours," and also a couple of sober cigarettes, Hyacinth insisting on his allowing himself this mild luxury, and devoting a small portion of 'her weekly earnings to defray the expense thereof, for in this poor household, the spending of even a penny was a thing to be considered.

" I am sick of curates," said Hyacinth seating herself on a stool at his feet ; " present company excepted." " Well, don't marry a Presbyterian, that is ell ; you see," continued Jim slyly, " poor Harris can't afford to keep a wife yet. Leave him a slight chance, 'tis a pity that he should share the fates of Astly and Grantham. Three curates. Oh, Hy ! " ST. ERLE. " I wish you wouldn't tease me so," said Hyacinth a little pettishly ; " and don't talk about keeping a wife — you have no idea how commonplace it sounds. I hate them all — I mean I dislike them. If you plague me so, I declare, I'll have the next who proposes to me — perhaps it may he Mrs. Brown's eldest darling and won't you be proud of him with his fishy eyes, and polished manners ? I believe you want to get rid of me, so I'll go," and Hyacinth waxed hot and indignant.

" No, I don't," said Jim, puffing calmly at his ciga rette : " I only want you to be a little kinder to the poor, wretched, rejected creatures, in fact, not quite so haughty and imperious ; it wounds their feelings." " If they have any," said Hyacinth laughing : " then I am to marry the next gentleman who proposes — if such an event occur." " What do you bet ?" asked the ecclesiastic improperly. " A pair of gloves." " Agreed. I bet you another that you won't have the next man who asks you." But Hyacinth determined differently, and when she retired to rest that night, fell asleep vowing to sacrifice her self grandly for the good of her family, and dreaming (by strange coincidence,) of white dresses, Oak Hall, and dinner parties.

Chapter II

A maid of grace, and complete majesty. Shakspeare. A grey sky, an intense frost, and a biting wind. A very delightful day for the warm fireside, or a brisk walk in the country, but certainly not for a tedious railway journey. A long train full of London passengers had just emp tied itself on to the platform of the Hylton ' station amid much bustle and confusion. Among the last to alight were three young men in Ulster coats, who made their exit from a first-class smoking compartment. " Now Carlyle, change your mind and come with us," said the shortest and darkest of the trio stretching himself and tossing away a half-smoked cigar ; "we shall have a houseful of jolly fellows. I can promise you plenty of fun, and, if you like it, a few professionals to talk shop with, into the bargain." " Thank you, it is impossible.

I am sorry to leave you, but I have promised Mrs. Beresford." " Are there any girls — daughters ? " " No." " Well, what with hearing the rheumatic old woman's knitting needles click, discussing the quality of the doctor's port after dinner, and extinct systems of medicament, and making yourself agreeable to a set of clod-hopping country girls, — by Jove, you'll be bored to death." " Not I — I mean to enjoy myself very much," said Dr. ST. ERLE. Carlyle smiling ; " now that I have seen you safely thus far, I commend you to the tender mercies of Amos and Patrick. Mind you behave yourself, and do not be foolish. I will write and fix about Germany, but I expect it will be quite the middle of January before I can leave. I daresay you will have changed your mind by that time, and be meditating a trip to Jamaica, possibly Japan.

Good bye — take care of him Amos." " More easily said than done," answered Amos, a long, slight young man with a careless air about him, and an easy, graceful carriage : " as you will not come with us, I do not hold myself responsible for any of his actions. When does the Edinburgh train start ?" he asked, capturing a fussy porter. " In two minutes sir — that's all — the other platform." Another word or two of adieu, and they were gone. Carlyle stood leaning against a lamp post looking after them until they disappeared ; then he walked leisurely away, gave orders concerning his portmanteau, and glanced at his watch. A quarter to four — too early yet to start for Dr. Beresford's. Culcrowthie lay four miles away — he would walk there, starting in about an hour. A deep church bell sounded in his ear, proceeding from no very great distance, and in that direction he turned his steps.

After five minutes' brisk walk, he stood within the sacred building, and his eyes wandered with pleasure up the lofty pillars to the beautiful roof, then to the Altar still fair with its Christmas hangings, and the Re-table bright with candles, Crucifix, and vases of flowers. The sound of footsteps caused him to turn quickly round. Two people had just entered the church, one a fine stalwart Scotchman, with a tall, straight, military figure, and a handsome, kindly face ; the other a slight, elegant, and exceedingly ST. ERLE. beautiful girl, arrayed in a dark blue riding-habit — a noble, piquante thing of twenty, with deep, long-fringed violet eyes, a high pure brow, and a pair of exquisitely cut lips which usually showed great sweetness, but where at times, a slight trace of pride was visible.

It was Colonel Max well and his daughter Laura — Laura, loved by all, (even by jealous ladies who could not help loving her,) and well nigh idolized by her father. Carlyle was not of a susceptible nature. With him, to love once, was to love for ever, and therefore it would have been better for him had he never beheld Laura Maxwell's face. Oh, strange influence, unseen, and scarcely felt, draw us irresistibly to our fate ! And Ernest Carlyle was unconsciously drawn into the stream. He watched Laura's graceful figure gliding softly down the church ; he watched her kneel for a moment, then rise, and seat herself before the organ. The bell ceased, and she commenced playing. It was a quiet service — only the " two or three gathered together," but it was solemn and reverential. Most beautifully sweet sounded that afternoon's music in Carlyle's ears, — the soft, clear boy-voices, swelled now and then by a few rich, soprano notes from the girl.