By a Way they knew not. A novel

Chapter I. An Unexpected Summons

It is the middle of the summer term, and Oxford is full of visitors. It is a perfect afternoon, and the river is crowded with craft of every description, from the racing eights, with their crews of stalwart athletes, to the frailest canvas-covered canoe, carrying only an under-graduate and a fox-terrier. Both ashore and afloat the scene is enlivened by the presence of fair women, decked in the lightest and brightest of summer costumes, for the sun is shining as he too seldom shines in our vaporous climate ; while here and there groups of men, to whom boating is a serious business, are discussing racing matters, and criticising the evolutions of the various crews. In the midst of one of these groups, leaning his back against a tree in a negligent attitude, stands a handsome man of some two or three and twenty, straight-limbed, tall, and fair.

This is our hero, Basil Barrington ; and the strong-featured, bull-necked man addressing him is the captain of the University eight, A BY A WAY THE Y KNE W NO T. 2 who have been badly beaten again this year by Cam bridge. " Now, it's no use to talk, Barry," says he ; " we must have you in the eight next year. We can't go on letting the Light Blues walk over year after year, and you would be the salvation of the crew. You shall have ' stroke,' if you'll take it. Now, you can't refuse." " Indeed, I can, and must. You see, it will be my last year, and my governor will be awfully annoyed if I don't get my degree." " Degrees be blowed ! As if we could sacrifice the reputation of the whole University for one fellow's de gree. Why, I would rather pay your college fees for another year myself than let you off like that."

What might have been the result of the interview, it would be impossible to say ; but at this moment the conversation was interrupted by the advent of a college chum of Barrington's. "I've been looking for you all over the shop, Baz," said the new-comer (being a good fellow, our hero was never addressed by his own name, but was indifferently Baz, Bazzy, Barry, Tony, or what not). " Here's a telegram that came for you just after you went out." " Hand it over, then," said Barrington. " I suppose it's from old Jones. I half promised to run up to town for a day or two when he got back from Paris, and, of course, it would not be in his nature to give a fellow decent notice. I believe he spends a good part of his income on telegrams." With this he lazily tore open the envelope, and cast his eyes along the lines of the message.

A sudden AN UNEXPECTED SUMMONS. 3 tremor passed over his frame, and the colour left his face. " What's wrong, old man ? " cried several voices to gether. " The governor's ill, and I am afraid it's serious. At any rate, it must be Something very sudden ; for I had a letter from him only this morning, in which he said he was first-rate. I can't understand it," he added, "for I never knew him a day in bed in my life." " The governor," the news of whose illness had caused such a sudden break in the eager discussion, was Sir Robert Barrington, the oldest representative of an ancient family, which had possessed considerable property in Essex for the greater part of two centuries. To the pre sent baronet the revenues of his broad acres were not as great as might have been expected, the estate being encumbered with family charges.

It was rumoured, nevertheless, that he was rich, and that he had added to his wealth by successful speculation. Our hero was his second son, and had been brought up in the lap of luxury, never wanting any of the comforts of life, and being free to indulge his inclinations without restraint. Many a youth placed in such a position would have given the reins to his pleasures, and led a life of self indulgence, or even dissipation ; but Basil was made of sound material, and, though the ease of his circumstances had withheld him from exerting his full powers, he was by no means a fool, either intellectually or morally. It was commonly said that he could do anything that he chose ; that he had not actually accomplished more was due to an easy-going indifference to distinction. He had BY A WA Y THEY KNEW NOT. 4 never been what might he strictly termed a reading man, but he had done better than the average in his examina tions, had carried off several prizes, chiefly in historical and literary subjects, and stood well with the heads of his college.

Outside he had proved himself a fearless horseman, a good shot, and an expert oarsman. He was endowed with an excellent physique, and good mental capacity. What he needed to round off his uncommon good qualities was a stimulus to exertion ; and this he was destined to receive.

Chapter II

A CATASTROPHE. "The best laid schemes o' mice and men gang aft a-gley." Our hero had no share in redeeming the aquatic reputation of his University : nor did he complete his degree as he had hoped to do. The telegram he received was virtually a summons to quit his alma mater, and he returned only to remove his belongings and to pay his debts. When Basil arrived at home in response to the sudden summons, he found his father unconscious, suffering from an apoplectic seizure, brought on by the news he had just received of a great calamity which had befallen him. The doctor was with him, and an eminent physi cian had been summoned from London ; but the case did not look very hopeful. Lady Barrington, too, who had been a sufferer for years from the effects of an accident in the hunting-field, had received such a shock from her husband's sudden illness that her life also was in danger.

It was indeed a sad household to which Basil returned. From the family lawyer he learned particulars of the trouble that had brought on his father's illness. As we have already stated, the baronet, though no man of BY A WAY THEY KNEW NOT. 6 business, was given to speculation, and had embarked in various undertakings of a more or less risky character. Tempted by a high rate of interest, and believing in the great capabilities of the countries if their resources were properly developed, he had invested largely in Turkish and Egyptian Bonds, which were now rapidly becoming unsaleable. Worse than this, company promoters had got hold of him, and, working upon his ignorance of business ways, had persuaded him to lend his well-known and respected name to a variety of doubtful enterprises. One of these had lately come to grief, entailing not only a serious money loss, but bringing his name into dis repute by association with company jobbers and swind ling speculators.

Some of the shareholders were insisting on a prosecution of the Directors, and it was the fear of this public disgrace, more than his actual losses, that had affected the worthy baronet's brain. The week that followed Basil's home-coming was a melancholy one for him. Naturally depressed by anxieties as to the future, he was brought to a condition of the utmost misery by the serious illness of both his father and his mother. His sensitive nature was so disturbed by this combination of misfortunes that he could settle to no occupation, and lost both appetite and sleep. He drew the gloomiest pictures of the future : imagined his father in a felon's cell ; thought of emigration for himself; and feared the pinch of absolute poverty for his mother and sisters. He allowed such thoughts to prey upon his mind so constantly that there were fears for his own health, and his vigorous constitution must certainly have broken A CATASTROPHE. 7 down had not an improvement taken place in the con dition of his parents.

After some days of anxious un certainty, the baronet began to show signs of mending, and the doctors gave hopes of complete recovery. The happy news had the effect of lifting a weight from the mind of Lady Barrington, and enabled her to some ex tent to regain her usual health. This she did the more rapidly that she had not been informed of the financial disasters that had overtaken her husband. In a short time Sir Robert was well enough to be re moved to Brighton, still in the care of his physician, where he continued to make rapid improvement. Basil had not been allowed to accompany him, for fear his presence should tempt him to enter upon business matters ; but he had the satisfaction of receiving daily reports of his progress. Within a month his father was able to return, looking somewhat shaken, but almost his own self, and with all his faculties unimpaired.

With characteristic promptness, the first morning after his return he had along interview with his son, in which he sustained his part with combined humility and dignity. " Basil, my boy," he said, as soon as they were closeted together, " you have heard enough of this sad business to know that I have made a fool of myself." " Don't say that, father. You have been misled by a lot of rascals ; but if you have been foolish in that respect, all the world will soon acknowledge that at least you have not been a rogue." " There are some sorts of folly that are almost as repre hensible as deliberate roguery. If I had listened to the advice of wiser persons I should not be in my present BY A WAY THE Y KNEW NOT. 8 position. I have brought it all on myself by unpardon able carelessness and obstinacy, and have doubtless ruined some poor souls who trusted in my honour and sagacity."

" As far as your honour is concerned, I have no fear that you will not sustain that. It is no use lamenting what is unalterable, but I am sure you will do what is still possible for the unfortunate shareholders." "Certainly I shall, Basil, but it will be at the expense of the comfort and happiness of those to whom I owe a higher duty than to speculators. I fear that you will be the greatest sufferer. I shall not be able to keep you at Oxford, and you will have to enter some profession at once. It will be hard upon you, but I don't see what I can do. It would be harder still for your brother to give up the army just as he has been gazetted to a cap taincy, and has a chance of distinguishing himself in active service, but he will continue to be an expense to me : and then your sisters' education must be completed some way, and we must find the means to live besides.

You see exactly how the land lies, and I trust to your energy and talents to make the best of the situation." " Do not fret for me, father ! I shall see my way to something. You know I have already had several articles accepted in the magazines, and I might by and by make quite a respectable income by writing." "That would be too uncertain, and I doubt your capability of forcing yourself to continuous work, which alone could make literature a profitable occupation. You must settle yourself to some profession or business that will require steady effort to ensure success, and I A CATASTROPHE. 9 am confident it will be the making of your character. The army is out of the question on account of your age, and I know you have no taste for the law : my own idea is that you should go into the Church.

I have no good living that I could put you into myself, but, with your abilities, you would be sure to make your way." " I have thought about it myself, father, and have no disinclination for the clerical profession ; but I have an idea that a man has no business to go into that sort of thing unless he has a special call for it." " I quite respect your feeling, my boy, and honour you for it : but, after all, there is a great deal of nonsense talked on this subject. How many of those who go into the Church, do you think, feel an irresistible call to the work ? And with how many of those who fancy they have a call, is it merely a superficial sentiment, or the outcome of parental influences ? Many of the most use ful and successful clergymen I have known have come from the ranks of those whom you would least suspect of deep inward emotion : but they have been manly fellows who would have done any work they undertook with all their might.

Those are the sort of men, if I may say so, that God wants for His work. But why, again, is clerical duty especially God's work ? Is it not God's work for a lawyer to see justice done, or for a workman to do honest service in any craft ? No doubt there are those who have a special call to the ministerial office, but if the Church were only served by such she would have many vacant parishes : and, indeed, if all who felt diffidence in themselves drew back, it would be ill for the Church ; for the very feeling of diffidence is BY A WAY THEY KNEW NOT. ' 10 sometimes a sign of special aptitude, and speaks the honesty of the individual. Now, do not think I would persuade you against your own deliberate judgment, but that is just my way of looking at the matter. If you choose to go in any other direction I have no desire to coerce you." n "Well ! father," concluded Basil, " I am much of your way of thinking, and am glad you have spoken so plainly ; but I must have time for consideration. In any case you need not fear that I shall feel it a hardship if I have to take a humble curate's position, and live on my stipend."

Chapter III. Bowing To The Storm

The baronet's recovery was looked upon by all his friends as remarkable. Still more remarkable, and doubt less not without its effect upon the rehabilitation of his bodily health, was the calm manner with which, after the first shock, he regarded his embarrassing circumstances. Even when he learnt that he would have to appear in the dock as a criminal — for the threatened prosecution was duly instituted— he preserved an equable demeanour, and went about his affairs as if nothing un usual were pending. Not that he did not feel his posi ion acutely ; but, confident in the integrity of his actions — at least, in his honest intentions — he hoped to escape conviction as a felon. He was even prepared, if the jury should put the worst construction on his case, to undergo his punishment, as the just penalty of his reckless specu lation.

We need not enter into the details of the trial. Suffice it to say that Sir Robert Barrington was ex onerated from all guilty knowledge of the frauds per petrated, though the judge commented severely on his folly in allowing himself to be made a ready tool for designing knaves. BY A WAY THE Y KNEW NOT. 12 So much was satisfactory ; but now remained the problem of making provision for the future, and repay ing, as he had determined to do, the money subscribed by the unfortunate shareholders who had been duped by the fraudulent prospectus issued under the sanction of his name. It was found impossible to keep up the establishment at Wharton Hall, the family seat, which was therefore let on a yearly tenancy to a wealthy brewer, who was about to build a palatial residence for himself in the neighbourhood.

The household was removed to London, in order that Sir Robert might be upon the spot to take a more active part in a business in which he had long had an interest as sleeping partner ; and a house was taken at Highbury, partly for the convenience of Basil, who had elected to pursue his theological course at St. John's Hall, as the least expensive way of pre paring himself for the Church. His eldest sister, now nearly nineteen, was installed as housekeeper, and the younger girls were placed at a suitable school in the neighbourhood. It was a great trial to the baronet to leave his ancestral home, and to allow a stranger to establish himself under a roof which had been sacred to Barringtons for so many generations. It was a sad wrench to every member of the family ; but one and all bore themselves bravely, and were soon settled happily in their new abode.

If it lacked in magnificence as compared with what they had been accustomed to, it was not wanting in comfort; while its more contracted limits, and the greater personal interest of each individual in its economy, brought them nearer to each other, and strengthened the ties of affec- BOWING TO THE STORM. 13 tion. Sir Robert, fixed in his determination to retrieve his fortunes, and to make restitution to those whom he had unintentionally injured, applied himself to business with a zeal that added new interest to his life ; while Lady Barrington actually seemed to have benefitted by the change of scene and circumstances. The weakness and lassitude which had become chronic with her were possibly in some degree the result of habit, and the resignation of herself to what she had made up her mind was to be lifelong illness.

At any rate, in her new abode her spirits revived, and in a short time she was able to interest herself in domestic arrangements to an extent that she had not done for years. The cheerful society of her eldest daughter, who hitherto had been absent at school the greater part of the year, and had been chiefly concerned in her own pleasures during the holidays, doubtless had much to do with the change ; while the daughter herself found a new delight in the performance of household duties, and in kindly attentions to her invalid mother. So what appeared at first as an over whelming calamity, being met in a spirit of resignation and brave effort, proved, in fact, as all our calamities are meant to be, a blessing in disguise.

Chapter IV

A BIT OF OLD ENGLAND. Having spent three years at Oxford and being possessed of a sound knowledge of Greek and Latin : having, moreover, read some theology while at College from an interest in current controversy, Basil was enabled to make his course at Highbury unusually short. After a little more than a year he was ordained as deacon and nominated to the curacy of Bloxham-juxta- Norbridge. As the reader may not be acquainted with this important locality, we cannot do better than transcribe Basil's description of the place, and his work in it, from a letter to his father. " My dear Father, " I sent you a short note just to say I had arrived here safely. Now I must try and tell you something about my new surroundings. First about Norbridge, for in reality Bloxham is not only fuxla Nor bridge but I might say proxime juxta, for you can't tell where the one place begins and the other ends.

What can have induced them to build two churches so close together I cannot conceive, for ours is within bowshot of Norbridge Church, and right away in one corner of the parish. Possibly, as Bloxham is by far the older church, A BIT OF OLD ENGLAND. 15 the village was once a more important place than Nor bridge, and the latter town arose like an old-world Birmingham or Sheffield, from some local development of trade or commerce. Norbridge, however, is old enough. I suppose there is not a house in it less than a hundred years old, except an aggressive red-brick villa built by a local butcher at one end of its single long street. At one time it was an important posting town, and it still possesses a fine old hostelry, which is as quiet as a monastery except on market days. We are six miles from a railway station, and far from any great town ; so the place is dull enough to those who like stir.

You could stand almost any morning and look from end to end of the street without seeing a soul, the only obstruc tion to your view being an enormous sycamore which stands in one of the footways. "Houses here are wonderfully cheap. In fact their owners would almost pay you to live in them. You can get a small mansion for about ten pounds a year, and many quite good houses are occupied by farm-labourers at nominal rents. The house I am living in, which is the parish-clerk's, is a most interesting edifice. I could not tell you how many rooms there are in it : my suite, which need not be despised by a royal prince, is on the first floor, and is approached by a broad staircase with carved newels and panelled walls. The room in which I am writing is wainscotted with oak as dark as night, and opposite me is a carved chimney-piece which would soon be transferred to some museum if it were discovered.

But then nobody ever comes here. For my sumptuous apartments I pay the sum of ten shillings a week, and ■6 BY A WA Y THEY KNEW NOT. am well served by the clerk's wife and daughter. As everything eatable here is ridiculously cheap, and there are no dissipations, except an occasional travelling menagerie or wax-work show, to tempt me to extrava gance, I shall be able to save half my stipend, if I don't get married ! " Our church is a most delightful old place. The nave and chancel are Norman, and happily unrestored. Though it looks a fair size outside, the walls are so thick that there is only sitting room for about fifty people on the ground floor. The gallery is occupied by the choir. (Oh ! the choir ! !). There is a grand Norman doorway, and a really fine perpendicular tower. (What a business there must have been in tower building in the fifteenth century !)

Then the font ! One of the finest and best preserved Norman ones in the country — figured in some of the architectural books. " Lastly, the rector ! How shall I describe him ? A most interesting old boy (bachelor), more antiquary than parson. He lives on antiquities — he even brings them into his sermons, so they tell me. I believe he knows every old stone in the Diocese, and he has kept me trotting round most of the time since I have been here inspecting churches, barrows, Roman camps, and I don't know what. You know I take an interest in these things myself, but I have had more than my fill this last week. The rectory, which is a splendid old half-tim bered house, is just like a museum : every room being crowded with specimens. " I am getting into wonderfully good habits. As there is positively nothing to do at night, I go to bed very A BIT OF OLD ENGLAND. 17 early and rise with the lark.

I am writing this before breakfast, but must stop now as I have a wedding to do at ten o'clock and it is already past nine." An extract from a later letter will give a better descrip tion of his own life in this old-world place than anything I can write. " You have no idea what a jolly place this is. It suits me to a T. I feel, however, sometimes, that it might easily become a hot-bed of idleness for me, — there is so little to do. If it were not for literary work, I might be in danger of dying of ennui : but between reading and writing I manage to fill up my time. Of course I am getting to know some people, and never lack for society when I want it. " I continue my early rising, and find it agrees with me wonderfully well. Indeed, the early morning hours are so fresh and invigorating that I can only regret I have wasted so many of them hitherto.

On fine summer mornings I often climb to the top of a low hill that over looks the town, and sit there with my book, or try my hand at making verses (by the way, you will see some thing of mine in next month's Scribbler) : but my favourite place for this diversion is on the top of the church tower. I have arranged a seat for myself behind the parapet, and there I can sit quite undisturbed and contemplate all that is going on below me. I find thoughts come more freely here than anywhere else ; but apart from the inspiration I get from my elevated position, it is worth the trouble of mounting the 123 steps (I count them every time I go up and down) for the sake of the view. All the sleepy town lies below you, — the B BY A WAY THE Y KNE W NOT. 18 irregular houses, with their long gardens and laden orchards stretching out behind them ; the white, sinuous road, and the still brighter river, which is crossed at the entrance to the town by a bridge of many arches ; the background of rich oak woods ; and away in the distance a range of softly outlined hills.

Here I dream away many an hour ; nor do I think my time is wasted. " I am getting greatly interested in the people here. Though the parish is a large one, it is not thickly popu lated, and I think I know nearly every one. Most of the visiting amongst the poor falls upon me, and I confess it is not the least agreeable part of my work. One is able to get so much nearer to these unsophisticated country people than to the working classes in great towns, or even in a place like Oxford. It is impossible to know people's lives when their residence is so unsettled and their habits are so unsocial. But here, from one and the other, you can get at the whole life history of everybody, and this without encouraging idle gossip. Everyone is interested in his neighbour's doings, and acquainted with all his circumstances.

Indeed, life is more healthy and human." With such surroundings, and in such manner, Basil passed the first year of his clerical life. He would gladly have spent a much longer time in such congenial circumstances, had he been permitted : but it was ruled other wise. The rector's health had been failing somewhat, when he decided to engage the services of a curate. Up to that time he had performed all the duties of the parish himself; but feeling the approach of age, and his favourite hobby, moreover, occupying a good deal of his time A BIT OF OLD ENGLAND. 19 and energy, he had sought to husband his strength by delegating part of his work to another. The winter that followed Basil's first summer at Bloxham greatly tried his diminished powers, and he was obliged to go abroad in the spring. For a time the work went on without him, Basil receiving assistance from neighbouring clergy : but, as the months went on, and the old rector did not make substantial improvement, he resigned his living, and a new incumbent was appointed who had no need of a curate.

So Basil was suddenly and unexpectedly put out of his curacy, and with much regret compelled to seek another. Being most anxious not to become, even for a time, a charge upon his father, he accepted the first position that offered, and was shortly installed as curate of Coalville.

Chapter V. Coal Ville

Persons who have been accustomed to live in the quiet country, or even in a well-ordered city, can form no conception of the conditions of life in some of the more squalid and desolate mining and manufacturing districts of " merrie England." The horrors of the Potteries and the Black Country of Staffordshire, or of the chemical towns of the Liverpool district, would be incredible to many who have not seen them for them selves. How life can be supported under such depressing circumstances will ever be a mystery ; but the fact re mains, thousands of our fellow-creatures are born and brought up, marry and beget children, grow old and die, in places that would be almost unendurable for a single day to persons of cultivated taste and sensitive nature. It was to such a district that our hero was called, Coalville being in the heart of one of the most desolate regions of manufacturing England, surrounded on all sides by collieries, ironworks, and chemical manufac tories.

His heart sank within him at all he saw when he first visited the place to have an interview with the vicar. Coming from the antipodean beauties of Norbridge, it seemed like a sudden descent from high heaven to the COAL VILLE. 21 pit of darkness. Had he given way to his natural feelings, he would have turned again, and sought pastures new ; but the very gloom and horror of the place, and the degradation of the people, inspired him with a long ing to do something, if it were possible, to brighten life there. Surely, here, if anywhere, was a call to duty. It was about mid-day when he arrived at Coalville station, which was a mile from the village. It was a hot day in July, and the sun shone brilliantly where it was al lowed to ; but here the sky was overcast by a murky cloud of smoke, which its rays could hardly pierce.