For Auld Lang Syne; a nineteenth century story ... Illustrated by E. M. Taylor

Front matter

FOR AULD LANG SYNE. B Y THE SAME A UTHOR. WHEN I'M A MAN; Or, Little St Christopher. Profusely Illustrated by W. H. GROOME. Crown quarto, cloth, bevelled boa?'ds, gilt edges. (l This is a story which has not a little both of fun and of pathos in it." — Spectator. "Is far above the average, being one of the most attractive stories we have read for a long time.'1 — Guardian. " Is one of the most charming juvenile stories that have appeared."- Scotsman. SOME OTHER PEOPLE. Illustrated bv Edith Berkeley, Fannie Moody, Florence Maplestone, M. Connell, Gertrude Demain Hammond, Annie Manville Fenn, Gertrude May, J. Fennimore, A. W. Strutt, R.B.A., and Edith Maplestone. 48 pp. small quarto, printed in monotints, cloth boards, price y. 6d. GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKKDEN & WELSH, NF.WBERY HOUSE, LONDON, AND SYDNEY.

" Molly waited on the three women." — Page 198. FOR AULD LANG SYNE A NINETEENTH CENTURY STORY BY ALICE WEBER ILL US TR ATED BYE. M. TAYLOR LONDON GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN & WELSH NEWBERY HOUSE (SUCCESSORS TO NE\VBERY AND HARRIS) AND SYDNEY T!ie rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved. CONTENTS. PAGE Chapter I. . . . . . . . . 13 Chapter II. ........ 22 Chapter III. ........ 32 Chapter IV. . . . . . . . .44 Chapter V. . . . . . . . .53 Chapter VI. ........ 65 Chapter VII. ........ 75 Chapter VIII. ........ 87 Chapter IX. . . . . . . 97 Chapter X. . . . . . . . .105 Chapter XI. ........ 115 Chapter XII. ........ 127 Chapter XIII. . ....... 139 Chapter XIV. ........ 152 Chapter XV. ........ 162 Chapter XVI. ........ 173 Chapter XVII. ....... 186 Chapter XVIII. . . . . . Contents.

VIII PAGE Chapter XIX 2o6 218 Chapter XX. ...•••• Chapter XXI 229 Chapter XXII. . .242 Chapter XXIII 2JI Chapter XXIV 262 Chapter XXV. . 272 Chapter XXVI 286 Chapter XXVII .299 Chapter XXVIII. ...•••• 3°S Chapter XXIX 31 7 Chapter XXX. ....... 326 Chapter XXXI. ....... 336 Chapter XXXII. ....... 346 Chapter XXXIII. ....... 360 Chapter XXXIV 369 Chapter XXXV. ....... 372 Chapter XXXVI .381 Chapter XXXVII. ....... 386 Chapter XXXVIII. . • • • • • c LIST of full-page illustrations PAGE Molly waited on the three women " Frontispiece She stood in a doorway, talking to a costermonger's wife " 55 On the sofa across the window, a faint movement was heard, as Will approached it " ........ 05 He tilted his head up just an inch from the ground on the hand that was under it, that he might look at the speaker " H7 Molly — wait — where are we?

Introduction

THERE is an old and favourite amusement for children, which presents before their eyes, whilst they sit in a darkened room, a fascinating succession of moving pictures, upon a sheet of white light. Scarcely have they spent their interest on one, than it passes away, and is quickly followed by another and another, each equally engrossing — some laughable, some thrilling, all charming ; until at last the play is played, the lantern is out, the children's pictures have gone. And some of the children turn from the blank sheet, and forget the shifting scenes that have been, as they dance to the strains of merry music beneath the dazzling lights of brilliant lamps. But there are other children who do not lose sight of those magic lantern slides for long, long afterwards. They see them in their dreams, in their games, in their lessons.

These are the children who love old dolls more than new ones, and who, as the years go by, develop a marvellous power of faithfulness. And it is indeed a power. Burn down into utter darkness, lantern that glorified ! Pass away into that darkness, pictures of surpassing charm ! And there remains yet the light that can defy all gloom : the strong soft radiance shed by those two little words — " I remember." :o :

Chapter I

' ' O end, to which our currents tend, Inevitable sea, To which we flow, what do we know, What shall we guess of thee ? " A. H. Clough. THERE were four of them, in cricketing flannels, crossing the lawn at Bowdray. There were four girls waiting for them in the morning-room at Bowdray. That slight, short cricketer, with eyes that seem to be every where at once, and a laugh that comes ringing up to the window, is Jem Talbot, only son of John Talbot of Bowdray Hall — late of the Indian Civil Service. The sixth form room at Rugby will know Jem no more in the flesh ; and the sighs and lamentations of the School Eleven, when he left, were only tempered by the hope of hailing him in the University Match at Lord's, next year. Arm-in-arm with him is Ivo Kerr, near neighbour and friend, for the lands of Combermere and Bowdray join.

Of him we shall see so much hereafter, that we need say no more now. That great, broad-shouldered fellow, towering over the three others, is Frank Houldsworth, ex-Rugbeian, and one of the best " all round " men up at Trinity Hall, Cambridge, where he does his utmost to apply the spur to Ivo, whose laziness was not left behind him at Eton. One more cricketer and Rugbeian there is still to introduce to the reader before we all meet together in the morning-room— Frank Houlds- Sync. 14 worth's "chum," Will Molloy. He, like Jem Talbot, has just left Rugby ; but he has no brilliant university career stretching out before him ; instead of it, what is called " a very good start " in the house of a well-known sugar-broker in London. He is neither brilliantly intel lectual, nor strikingly handsome, nor irresistibly fascinating.

On the other hand, he is neither stupid, nor plain, nor in any way repellent. For the rest, let time and the deed show ; for it is not the way with either authors or readers to treat our characters as we treat ourselves ; and by summing up what we call a character or person, often the acquaintance of a moment, presumptuously to suppose that we know them, and decline to take any further interest in them. An author's character sometimes takes a lifetime to grow, and as long a time to be known. But living men and women, in this age of progress, of course cannot be expected to make due allowance for the delicate lights and shades of an experience past and to come. This is a digression ; the four friends are drawing near the morning room window, and we must hurry inside to receive them. Behold a square, low-pitched room, with dark wainscot, stained boards, and a wall-paper that suggests morning sunlight ; there are oriental rugs about, old oak cabinet and brackets, old china bowls and plates, side-tables littered with books and painting materials, a window opening into a gay greenhouse, and another French window, towards which the four young men are now wending their steps.

Tea is spread on the table — the schoolroom tea of the two school girls, Helen, the intellectual and nervous tea-maker, and Molly, the irrepressible ; but it is five o'clock tea for everybody. All who chance to be staying in the house infinitely prefer dropping in to tea in the morning-room, rather than having it in the drawing-room. Theo Talbot and her friend Sybil Mortimer, sitting together on the couch, discussing the several events in their separate worlds, since they said good-bye to school, three years ago, overhear an ejaculation from Helen, to the effect that she wished "Jem had not brought them all back with him this afternoon ! " which called forth a low-smothered laugh from Molly, who sat at a side-table gumming little pictures on terra-cotta plates. " Molly ! I believe you told him to bring them in ?

" said Theo, breaking off in the tete-ct-tete. The dark head was raised from the terra-cotta ; the soft brown hair was tossed back from the grey eyes, as Molly replied : '■ I know I did ! I thought it would be such fun to have them all up to tea ? You, too, will have them at dinner. We shan't, Nell and I ! Bless you ! we prepared this tea long ago — marmalade for Mr Houldsworth, because Jem says he eats it by the pound; scones for Mr Houldsworth's friend, because everyone likes scones ; a home made cake for Jem ; and such wholesome bread and butter for Ivo ! Ivo shudders at the wholesomes ; doesn't he ? Good gracious ! here they are ! Don't look scared, Nell, dear ; it's not the whole eleven, you know — only four of them, and one a brother." At the same moment that the light from the window was darkened by the entrance of four male figures, the door at the opposite end of the room opened to admit Mr Talbot and Miss Harvey.

Miss Harvey, once the girls' governess and always their friend, had continued to live with the Talbots as a member of the family, when Theo had "come out" three years ago, and the other two girls had gone to school — a woman of most motherly heart and over-anxious mind, in all that concerned her " children." "Father, you know Houldsworth," began Jem, linked with the stranger, who had already been introduced to Theo and Sybil. "This is Will Molloy, his great friend, and one of our best bowlers this after noon." As the older man took the hand of the younger one, and their eyes met, what was it that Mr Talbot saw, which made him hold the hand a moment longer, and gaze into the face a moment longer, than is customary with a mere stranger ? Whatever it may have been, subtle association, or wind-blown likeness recalling stray memories, the hand was dropped suddenly, as Mr Talbot turned away to say a little court eous word to Sybil Mortimer.

Jem was in the act of introducing Houlds worth to her. Theo was already engaged by Ivo in a quiet sparring match on the subject of her non-appearance on the cricket ground that afternoon. " I wanted you all to be there on our first day," he said. " I daresay you did," replied Theo, looking so handsome and superb, " but there was someone else to be considered. Sybil Mortimer was coming by the four o'clock train, and Nell had one of her headaches. It was unkind of us not to have considered Ivo Kerr first and foremost!" " You must all be very warm and very thirsty, I am sure I" said gentle and benevolent Miss Harvey to the company at large, as she helped Helen with her tea cups. " I can't shake hands, my fingers are all gummy," Molly was saying to Will Molloy, ignoring a conventional introduction; for Jem was buttering toast, and besides, was not Molly a little schoolroom chit ?

The little schoolroom chit had started up from her terra-cotta works when the four entered, giving her hand-palms a hasty rub over the surface of her bib-apron ; and now, finding the only stranger left to him self, and out in the cold as it were, she raised her eyes to the face above her, and told him why she could not show him her share of hospitable welcome. He laughed, and then she felt that they were friends at once. "What are these for?" he asked, bending over her table, whilst cups went jingling round. She was back amongst her decorations at once. " They are for a friend of ours," she said, " for Mary Greville, a great friend of father's. She is coming to stay here to-morrow. She is not young, you know, but she's a darling. And she lives all alone always, and so I am doing these for her ; I can't bear to think of people being lonely."

"Young man, will you have some tea? or is my industrious daughter regaling you on gum ? Ah ! she is a genius in everything but shall we say what, Molly ? " An appeal, half-defiant, half-pathetic, was flashed at her father from Molly's eyes; and Ivo, who had overheard, said, as he drew near to hand cups and plates : " We don't want her to be a genius — a woman who is a genius is very often a great bore !" They were just in a knot together — Molly and Mr Talbot, Ivo and Will Molloy ; knots of that sort sometimes get tied in a mixed assem blage, and sometimes never get untied again. Mr Talbot observed without being overheard by all, and with only two to note the keen cut of satire, that a feminine bore of that type was more tolerable than a masculine idler. Ivo said nothing, but looked unutterable things ; whilst Molly said : " Father, don't !

" with a sort of plunge which called forth a vibration from the tea tray, a protest from Miss Harvey, and an imploring look from Helen at her father, who turned his chair corner-wise, crossed one leg over the other, and facing Will Molloy asked him whether he knew their country at all. "Only once," replied Will, "have I ever been in this neighbourhood before — years ago— during my first half-year at Rugby. I was staying with a schoolfellow at some house near the railway station ; and now I remember they told me some ghost-story belonging to a house near— I forget the name of the place— but there was something about a heavy sigh, that had haunted the passages for generations." Mr Talbot suddenly rose and went to the window, where he muttered something about the beauty of the evening, and strolled out on to the lawn.

Miss Harvey looked perturbed ; Helen clutched the teapot and refilled cups recklessly ; Theo had looked up suddenly at Will Molloy, forgetting to answer Ivo's last remark ; Jem silently played with the spoon in his saucer, and exchanged a glance with Ivo ; whilst Sybil Mortimer and Houldsworth wondered what Will Molloy had said, and so did Will himself. " Well ! I do think we are the most uncomfortable family for strangers to have anything to do with," cried out Molly, impetuously ; " I sometimes wish that nobody ever spoke at all ! " " Hush, my dear Molly ; you are a little excited this evening. Strangers do not know the trouble your father has had, but you do." For this well-meant rebuke, Miss Harvey's soft hand was sharply pinched ; and Theo said prettily and graciously : " This was the haunted house, Mr Molloy ; my father can never bear to hear the ghost alluded to, from some strange fancies he had at the time our mother was ill.

She was an invalid for a long, long time. One part of this house is very old — " " My room is in it," interrupted Molly. " We are not frightened, and we do not believe in ghosts," pursued Theo, " but the story is that a certain Lady of Bowdray, who lived here in the sixteenth century, led such a very unhappy life that she sighed herself to death ; and her sighs are said to be heard at times in the west wing, or outside it." " Where my room is," said Molly again, with all the air of being a heroine. " But, Theo, you have not half told it ! " broke in Helen, excitedly, with a light kindling in her deep-set dark eyes. " You have not said how the ghost of that lady always came with a south-west wind and a heavy mist, for the mists that used to settle on these lands — " " Until they were well drained by an enlightened descendant," put in Jem.

" — Were thought to be her tears," continued Helen, gravely ; " and the wailing of the wind was the long echo of her sighs. You can hear them plainly now in the west wing, sometimes. You can indeed, Jem ! Molly and I often do." i: " Who could not turn the whistling and the whining of a south-west wind, in some houses, and at some hours, into almost anything?" said Will Molloy, laughing. Jem told his younger sisters they were geese ; then turning to his three friends, as he looked at his watch, he said there would be just time to go round to the stables before they went back to Combermere to dress. With their departure, the tea-table became uninteresting to Theo and Sybil, who decamped. Miss Harvey took Helen away to rest her head in some quiet corner where no ghosts or brothers could upset her nervous organization ; and Molly was left alone, standing in the window, watching her father as he paced up and down the lawn.

His eyes were bent on the ground, but drawing near the house, he raised them, and met hers, fixed on him. Something prompted him to stoop and kiss her as he passed into the room. " Just one minute, father! " she pleaded, coaxingly, catching hold of him ; then in a half-whisper : " I wish you would not call Ivo a masculine idler ! " A momentary smile in the eagle eyes above her vanished, as the bushy brows were bent over them, and Mr Talbot answered : " My dear little daughter, you are not quite old enough yet to under stand my grievance with Ivo. He is growing up into manhood now, with no bias whatever but just self-pleasing. There is no greater curse for a man than to have nothing to do, no fixed purpose in life." " I am glad I shall never be a man," remarked Molly, poking a finger backwards and forwards through her father's button-hole, " so much more is expected from boys and men than from girls and women.

Excuses are always made for us." "Up to a certain point, Molly — yes; but my excuses for you are pretty well used up, and I begin to think that my youngest daughter is rapidly growing up into a fine specimen of the genus dunce. Perhaps she and her friend Ivo are going to try how far they can get on without brains, and without that power of will which alone makes brains worth having; it promises to be an even race, making allowance for the difference in age. Let me go now, my dear, or I shall be late for dinner." She had caught hold of him with her strong little hands — hands that could hold in the pony which her sisters could not control. " Father ! " she cried, " do you care so much about that wretched prize?" " Not in the least ; but I care for perseverance and energy. My dear ! you are crumpling my shirt cuffs most distressingly, and there goes the first dinner bell."

So he left her, standing in the window with a sore heart ; she could not bear to grieve that father of hers ; those stinging sarcasms from him were intolerable, both for Ivo and for herself. From anyone else they would have made her furious ; from him — they wounded, that was all. Molly Talbot was not given to melancholy musings ; but now she stood there — thinking — until the big tears filled her eyes, blotting out the lawn, and the swelling park beyond that was lovely with all the lights and shades of a spring evening. It was the old want, that want of a mother, which begins in the child heart with a nameless, unsatisfied hunger, and, later on, often grows into a home-sick craving. Her father was generally most sarcastic where he loved most, and poor Molly had already lived long enough to learn that a touch of sarcasm on a sore heart is a moral fester.

" I know what I will do ! " she exclaimed, impetuously, brushing the back of her brown hand across her eyes with a strangled sob ; and, as she plunged round from the window with a sort of snort, suggestive of an unbroken colt, she suddenly and unexpectedly confronted Will Molloy. He had entered the room unheard by her ; she could have heard nothing but her own thoughts speaking a moment ago. " I think I must have left my pencil here," he said. A silver pencil case was lying on the tea-table, and it was in Molly's hand before he had discovered it. But some of those big tears were on the fingers that clasped it, and she was conscious of moisture on the pencil as he held out his hand for it. In the act of giving it to him, she drew it back quickly and rubbed it on her apron, to his amusment and slight surprise.

The action was school-girlish, and so, perhaps, were the words that followed ; but there was a certain dignity too about this " school room chit," who felt sure that red eyes as well as wet pencil might tell tales. " I am not in the habit of doing this," she said, loftily. "Doing what? — polishing pencils?" he replied, as he took back his own again. " No ! " and here the long lashes drooped over the great grey eyes ; " but some of the stupid things were on my hand, and so your pencil was wet ; but / don't mind your knowing that I've been crying because ' women must weep,' you know, and ' men must work,' though Ivo wouldn't say so,"— this last, with the oddest little grim smile ; then in a half-defiant manner : " I suppose you heard what I said just now as you came into the room ? Of course I never knew you were here."

" Yes, I heard." That was all he said ; and he examined his pencil closely, because he felt sorry for her, and did not know exactly where to look, so as not to appear to be looking out for the signs of tears in her eyes. " Have they taken the shine off it ? " she asked, bluntly ; " I have a bit of wash-leather upstairs that I use to rub up my chain and studs with. I'll rub it up with that, if you like." " I don't want it rubbed up, thanks," he said with a laugh, as he closed his fingers over it. She was silent for a minute, then, looking up in his face, she said : " I'll tell you what I am going to do. I am going to work hard this evening at a holiday task — a map to draw, and a lot of Shakspere to learn — three weeks to do it in. It's optional, you know, but I mean to do it. It's for father that I shall do it, not for Miss Dawson.

Miss Dawson is our school-mistress. So please tell Jem not to come and bother, if I don't turn up in the drawing-room." Her eyes had travelled out and away over the Downs that made the horizon-line from that window, but now they came back again to the face before her. He was standing with one foot upon the low seat of the high-backed chair in the window, with his arm resting on his knee and his head on his hand, as he looked at her curiously. And she looked at him. She liked the smile that was shining out of his eyes. After wards, when she was older, and more in the habit of thinking over such things, Molly used to say that nobody could ever call Will Molloy plain, because, when he smiled, no features were ever so transfigured. She did not think about it now ; she just went on looking at him, eyes to eyes.

" I say, don't you go and grizzle over it. I wouldn't do it this evening, if I were you," was his reply to her oracular statement. And something in the manner or the tone of that reply made her feel, still more, that they would be friends. " You haven't got a mother, have you ? " were her next words. " No." " Don't you wish you had ? " " Often and often." " So do I ! " And here the little brown hand was stretched out, and' put into his for one minute, then hastily withdrawn from his grip as the dinner-bell sounded. " Must I go now ? " he asked, slowly drawing his foot away from the chair. " Of course you must ! " she said, nodding her head imperatively. A few minutes later he had gone up on to the table-land of late dinner, leaving her in the schoolroom valleys below. But in his pocket was the pencil, and between them was a compact, unspoken and unsealed, save by the consciousness of a common want, and by the sacrament of a little girl's tears and of a boy's compassionate sympathy.

Chapter II

" Death ! there is not any death ; only infinite change, Only a place of life which is novel and strange. If we love, then the souls that we love, they exist and they are, As memory which makes us ourselves brings precious things from far." The Ode of Life. fATHER doesn't always mean what he says," pleaded Helen, an hour afterwards, when using all her persuasive powers to coax Molly out of her abnormal state of study, and to go upstairs and dress. " I tell you, I am just going to show him that I'd rather turn my hair white with hideous books than hear him speak to me like that again. Go away, Nell ! You are all right, because you are so clever ; and Theo's all right, because she always is right; but I — I'm nothing but a disappointment." Certainly Molly was in a rare mood. For years she had been accustomed to hear herself called " tomboy," " vagabond," " ne'er-do weel ; " and this evening, for the first time, she was taking it to heart deeply.

" But Molly, dear—" "Oh, yes! I daresay!" interrupted "Molly, dear," impatiently; " but what would you feel like, if Ivo was your great friend, and father told you that you and he were both running a race to see which could go furthest without brains, and without a will ? It's not that I care for the brains — I hate them ; but I love father, and I love Ivo — and it's a beastly shame ! " " Oh ! Molly, hush ! " and Helen, crimsoning, looked up at the open window. Dinner was over, and the young men, instead of sitting over their wine in the warm dining-room, had turned out at once into the garden, For Auld Lang Syne. 23 and there, standing close by, lighting their cigars, were Frank Houlds worth and Will Molloy. " I don't care ! " growled Molly, burying herself in her maps and ink. " / don't mind who hears my strong language.

Do go away now, Nell, and let me be good for once in a way." Helen, with sundry misgivings as to whether Molly were in a healthy state of mind or body, left her. Will Molloy had overheard all that sentence of Molly's, and so had Frank Houldsworth; it was so distinctly and emphatically uttered. But just as Houldsworth, amused, was in the act of turning round, Will — standing with his back to the little window — laid a hand on his friend's arm, saying in a low tone, which did not reach Molly's ear : " Don't look round. She doesn't know we are here. It's the little girl with the big eyes. She is in the wars to-night, and got scratched somehow." Then they strolled away to join the others. They were all out there except Miss Harvey and Helen. Molly arranged her seat in a corner of the room where she would be invisible, and placed the reading-lamp behind the half-closed shutter.

She thought they all seemed uncommonly happy as they lounged to and fro along the path, up and down, passing her window each time ; and whiffs of cigar-smoke came in with fragments of conversation now and then, although she tried not to listen. First of all came heavy Frank Houldsworth's crunching footsteps, and with him were Sybil Mortimer and Will Molloy. Molly caught a glimpse of her pretty little head above the soft shawl thrown over her shoulders, and she was saying, half-laughing, half-earnestly : " But why should men only give us credit for understanding house keeping and needlework, and such things ? Surely some of us may interest ourselves keenly in politics, and yet not neglect the other?" They were all three standing before the window now. "Ah ! they could not manage both," said Houldsworth, wisely, "and don't you think, if your crewel-work were to go to the wall, it would be greater loss to the world at large, than — " " Than my insignificant little vote ?

" interrupted Sybil. " Thank you, Mr Houldsworth." "Yes, I mean that," he replied; "we can spare your votes, but we can't spare your womanliness, can we, Molloy ? " " Don't know, I'm sure," said Will ; " I have never thought about it," which Molly, in her retreat, thought an excellent answer, and just what she would have said herself. Their footsteps died away down the terrace, and a perfect silence reigned in Molly's regions for a few moments. Ivo and Theo were the next to come by, and they also paused just outside the window. " You are all alike, you girls ! " he was saying, with a touch of bitterness ; " you give your word to a fellow, and you take it back again as if it were nothing." " Take care, Ivo ! " she replied ; "we Talbot women"— and what an absurdly girlish thing she looked as she said this with considerable dignity—" value our word more than gold.