Wendover House

Front matter

* I

K

T nt

CHAPTER I. ** *Tis but lame kindness That does its work by halves.**

afternoon when I was about nine years old, I sat by the fire in Nurse Hillyer’s room turning over the leaves of my book, and wishing that it were tea-time ; for the days seemed long then, and the great house empty. Nurse Hillyer was knitting a long gray stocking and reading “Baxter’s Saint’s Rest,” a favorite book of hers, and I wished that she would put it down and talk to me. I was tired of the constant click, click of the needles, and the occasional turning of leaves. I remember just how the wind roared in the chimney, and how the rain dashed against the window-panes. The fire that glowed brightly upon the hearth, was the most comfortable object in the room.

Aunt Wendover’s fires never glowed, and the

WENDOVER HOUSE.

rooms at Wendover House were not bright nor pleasant. I liked the great, dim library better than any other room, but that grew very lonely toward night, so I often took my book and went to Nurse Hillyer’s room ; for, as I said, her fire was bright and cheery.

Next to the library I liked the long, dark gallery where the family portraits were hung. A little organ stood there, and I used to play on it, very softly so no one could hear me ; for Aunt Wendover would not have any music in the house. A great piano stood in the drawing-room, but I had never seen it opened. I knew it was a piano because Nurse Hilly er told me so, and I had a great curiosity to see what it looked like. I had often tried to raise the lid, but it would not open, and I used to wonder how the sound must feel all shut up in that dark case.

One day while rummaging in the gallery in the east wing, I noticed a square, box-like piece of furniture. I opened it, and saw some yellow keys, but when I touched them they gave no sound. Then I put one foot on the pedals and struck the keys. I stopped in fright, for I had found its voice. But I soon lost my fear, and I stayed there a long time, trying to follow a tune that I had heard Barbara, the maid, sing. It was something about a young girl who

AGNES’ STORY.

was alone in the world, and who was dying of want and loneliness, and it had a sad little refrain : “ never again, never again.” I succeeded in picking out part of the tune, and day after day I went there, till I could make out the whole song, playing it with one finger. Then I tried to make the organ tell how I felt, shut up in a great house, with nobody to love me, and where nothing ever happened. I found much pleasure in this, and when I was particularly sad, I would creep away to the organ for consolation. I don’t think that the stiff ladies and gentlemen in the frames above me minded me, and I disturbed no one else. It was an eerie place, for I was a nervous, imaginative child, and I sometimes fancied that the people in the frames moved and looked at me. One day I was sure that a high-ruffed lady just above the organ shook her finger at me. I screamed so loudly that all the household came running to see what was amiss. Aunt Wendover came too, and she shook me for what she called my silliness. Ever after that I would leave the gallery when it began to grow dark.

On this afternoon I had been reading a long time, and when I grew tired of my book I went to the organ and began to play. Suddenly the door of one of the empty rooms opened, and Aunt Wendover came out. I would not have

WENDOVER HOUSE.

been much more surprised if the high-ruffed lady had stepped down from her frame ; for Aunt Wendover never came near that part of the house. She came toward me, and laying her hand on my shoulder, she said, “Agnes, you are not to touch the organ again. Remember.” -

I was afraid of her piercing, black eyes and her cold touch on my arm. She went back into the mysterious chamber and locked the door. I crept to the keyhole and listened, but I heard nothing except the rustling of papers and the opening and shutting of drawers.

I seemed determined to be in mischief that afternoon. A large picture entirely covered with crape hung in the gallery. All my life I had regarded it with wonder and awe, but I had never dared to touch it. That afternoon I mounted a chair and tugged at the crape covering. It was securely fastened, and I could not move it, though I succeeded in tipping my chair over, and the crash brought Aunt Wendover to the door. She must have seen at a glance that the picture had been disturbed, for she said, “ Agnes, if you do not let things alone I shall forbid your conaing here. Go and sit quietly in your room for two hours as a punishment for meddling.”

I did not heed her words, but grasped hold

AGNEs’ STORY.

of her dress,- and said, “O Aunt Wendover, won’t you please tell me who is behind that crape ? What does the picture look like ? ”

“ The falsest, fairest face God ever made,” she said as if forgetting my presence. But she suddenly seemed aware of it. She took me by the shoulder and thrust me into my own room, repeating her injunction to sit there for two hours.

I don’t know how the time passed, for there were no books in the room, and I never had any playthings. I had never in my life owned a doll. My room was as bare as the other rooms in that wing. There was a little iron bedstead, a washstand, a chest of drawers holding the necessary articles of clothing that I possessed, one stiff chair, and a long, old-fashioned mirror. I had no inducement to look in this, for I was a plain, dark child, and I thought myself positively ugly. I looked from the window, but nothing was to be seen except water, for Wendover House stood on an island. I never liked the water, and I turned away from the window, and began to think I had more than usual to occupy my mind that day — what Aunt Wendover was doing in the empty room, why I must not touch the organ, what could be behind that craped picture — all these questions whirled through my brain. Then there were the usual

WENDOVER HOUSE.

puzzles that troubled me. What was God like, and why had he made the world ? For I knew that a mysterious being called God had made something called the world, and that Wendover Island was a part of it. Another question was, how did I get to the island, and how should I get away ? When I grew to be old, as old as Aunt Wendover, should I stay there ?

The time passed at last, and I saw by the tall clock in the corner that my two hours had expired. I ran to the library and looked for a book, for ever since I could remember I had been fond of reading, and it was my only pleasure. There were numberless volumes in the '•library, and no one had ever forbidden my touching them. I had read most of the books in bright covers, and I had looked over those that were illustrated, but there were thousands of dark, heavy books that I had no desire to touch. I took down a copy of Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy, which, by some freak of fancy, had a gay crimson binding. It had escaped my notice until then, and I promised myself a rare feast ; but I soon put it back on its shelf, and took down an old favorite of mine, the Arabian Nights. I became so fascinated by the pictures it called up before me, that I forgot how cold the library was, and all the incidents of the afternoon slipped from my

AGNES’ STORY.

mind, until the lessening light warned me to find refuge in Nurse Hilly er’s room. It was a western room, much lighter than the library, and I read a few pages more till it grew too dark even for my young eyes to see. After that the events of the afternoon kept running through my mind, and I wanted to ask some questions. I was convinced that there was some mystery about the house, because many queer things happened. I resolved to find the key to some of the secrets, so when Nurse Hilly er laid her knitting down, I said,

“Nurse, why is Aunt Wendover so queer, and why won’t she let me see the craped picture, and why are all the rooms shut up, and why won’t she let me play on the organ ? ”

Nurse was used to my questions about my aunt’s peculiarities, but when I mentioned them over she looked surprised. “ Miss Agnes, surely you never touched the craped picture,” she said.

“ I only just touched it, nurse. I have always wanted to know what is behind the crape. What harm could it be if I knew ? Can’t you show it to me ? ”

“ Miss Agnes, I wouldn’t to-uch that picture for anything. Mind you never do it again I Miss Wendover has reason to be much displeased with you.”

WENDOVER HOUSE.

But, nurse, do you know who is behind the crape ? ” I persisted. “ Aunt Wendover says it is the falsest, fairest face God ever made.”

Nurse seemed to be in a brown study. She sat with her lips pursed up, and her hands crossed on her lap. I grew tired of waiting, and I asked another question.

“ Nurse Hillyer, why won’t Aunt Wendover let me play on the organ ? ”

‘‘ O Miss Agnes, she didn’t hear you do that, did she?” asked nurse sadly. “Never do it again, child. It vexes Miss Wendover.”

“ Oh dear ! ” I sighed. “ I am so tired of being told to let things alone ! I wish that I could live in a little house of only one room ; I am so tired of big shut-up rooms where, nobody but ghosts live.” Nurse shook her head ; but I went on, “ There are ghosts in the world, for Hamlet saw one I ”

Nurse looked puzzled. She evidently knew nothing of Hamlet ; her reading was of a different kind from mine.

“Is there a ghost in Wendover House?” I asked, fearful of hearing her say there was one, and yet half hoping that there might be.

But nurse’s patience was exhausted. She rose and rang the bell. “You ask too many questions. Miss Agnes. I am sure your aunt wouldn’t like to have me answer them. Has

AGNES’ STORY.

Miss Wendover had tea?” she asked of the maid who appeared at the door.

“ No, but Miss Agnes is to have her tea with you”

“ Very well, Barbara, you may bring it up,” said nurse.

I knew that my aunt either had company, or that she was displeased with me ; for at other times I would take my meals with her. Company came very seldom to Wendover House, and my aunt was very often displeased with me ; so I concluded that the affair of the picture and the organ was the cause of my banishment. I was always glad of any reason for taking tea with nurse, for the solemn, stately meals in the great dining-room were a sad trial to me. I don’t think I was a very awkward child, but in the presence of my aunt, I did everything wrong. I felt her eyes were on me, and in my confusion I dropped my bread, spilled my milk, and gulped my food in a way that drew down many a merited rebuke. Once, in my awkward misery, I dropped one of the precious china plates and broke it in a dozen pieces, and since that day I had eaten from a plate of common ware, taken from the servants’ closet. Then Hawkins, the grim butler, who stood behind my aunt’s chair, seemed to regard me with eyes that chilled my blood. I was even more afraid

WENDOVER HOUSE.

of him than of Aunt Wendover. I think I did not eat enough to keep a bird alive, but I often got a lunch from Nurse Hillyer’s store-room, and her apples and gingerbread were a great solace to me.

When I took my tea with nurse, she often allowed me to set the table and help her, and this evening I knelt on the hearth-rug making toast. . Then I carefully buttered it, and brought the teacups from the closet. After that, I reached down the keys of the store-room, and asked, “Nurse, don’t you think we might have some jam to-night ? It is siich a dreary night, and strawberry jam is nice and comforting.”

Nurse laughed as she singled out the particular key she wanted ; for she was housekeeper, and all the stores were in her charge. She was accustomed to humor me, and I added, “ And sponge cake, too, you know. I haven’t had tea* with you in three weeks, and Aunt Wendover never has sponge cake.”

The sponge cake and the jam made their appearance, and we sat down to our tea. I enjoyed the cheerful little meal, for the logs crackled on the hearth, and I didn’t mind the rain outside, when the lamps were lighted.

After Barbara cleared the table, I brought out my books and studied my lessons. Usually

AGNES’ STOEY.

I learned them in the drawing-room under my aunt’s surveillance, but as she did not send for me I sat and swung my feet to and fro, a proceeding that would not have been tolerated in the drawing-room. I learned my tasks quickly, for when my aunt was not present I had no temptation to let my mind wander from my book, and besides, I was anxious to finish them * so that I could talk to nurse. I conjugated my Latin verb and learned my geography and history, then, when I had piled my books upon the table, I drew my stool close to nurse and watched her knitting. I used to wonder what she did with all the stockings she knit, for she was constantly making them, and she could not wear them out. Besides, I knew they were much too large for her. Just then she was setting the heel, and I knew she would not talk while doing that. So I sat and watched the pictures in the flames till she was knitting as usual.

Then I asked abruptly, “Nurse Hillyer, who am I?”

“ Agnes Wendover, of course,” said nurse, quietly.

“ Yes, I know, but I mean, where do I come from ? The first thing I can remember is being four years old, and seeing Aunt Wendover look so sharply at me. Didn’t something happen

WENDOVER HOUSE.

before that ? I must have begun somewhere. Was I ever anywhere else, Nurse Hillyer? Seems to me I haven't always been here where I can’t know anything about myself. I hate dark closets and secrets and I hate not to know things. If I ask questions, you say, hush, and Aunt Wendover always makes me do more lessons. If I could only go back where I began, and then go on right ! ”

“ What do you mean, Miss Agnes ? ”

“It seems to me I must have begun right. You say God made me, and he must have started me right, and then it seems that something happened that tangled things dreadfully. I can’t tell just how, for my head aches when I try to think it out. It is harder than my Latin. Now, why did God let me get all wrong? Don’t he care for people after he makes them ? ”

“ Miss Agnes, what stuff you are talking ! ” said nurse, impatiently ; “ I can’t understand you at all.”

“ Why, it is this. Why did I have to come to Aunt Wendover; did I belong* to anyone else before she got me ? Seems to me that I can just remember being some where else. I always thought that God didn’t think any more about me after I came to Wendover House. He never comes here, I know, for Aunt Wendover says she don’t believe there is any God at all.”

“Now, Miss Agnes,” Nurse Hillyer began, but I interrupted her.

“ I know she don’t, for I heard her tell Dr. Barnham once that God had never troubled himself about her, and that she guessed there was none. She told the doctor that when he asked her to go to church and let me go to Sunday-school. She said there was no use in putting nonsense into my head, that I was silly enough already. But I am not silly, because I think a great many things,” I added half to myself. “ So that is what makes me think that God don’t care for any one in Wendover House,” I said, going back to the question that troubled me. “If I could get away I might find out about him. I don’t know how God could find a little girl in a big, lonely house, and then, there’s the water all around it. Have I always got to stay here. Nurse Hillyer?”

“ I am sure I don’t know. Miss Agnes, but you ought to be thankful for such a good home. I know that Miss Wendover would blame me for telling you, but I am sure it is no more than my duty. Miss Agnes, God is Everywhere ! He knows everything you do or say, and he is watching you all the time, much sharper than Miss Wendover watches you. So you must be 2

WENDOVER HOUSE.

very careful what you do, or some day when you tell stories to Miss Wendover, he will send some awful punishment on you. People have been struck dead for lying.” She rolled up her stocking, and, looking significantly at the clock, said, “ It is eight o’clock already, and you ought to be in bed this minute. What Miss Wendover would say to me, I am sure I don’t know.”

“ Oh ! nurse, couldn’t I sit up ten minutes longer? ” I begged. “ It is so dark and still in my room, and just as soon as I shut my eyes I see all sorts of dreadful things. I could stand it better if I had a light. Something walks in the room under mine, and it talks and cries. I hear it almost every night.”

“ Nonsense, Miss Agnes ! You must hear Miss Wendover moving about, and you imagine the rest. Come, come, your eyes are as big as moons. I did wrong to let you talk so much.”

She took a lamp and led the way through a long hall, then through the gallery where my organ stood. Involuntarily I glanced at the wall where the draped picture had always hung, and it was gone ; but the lady over the organ seemed gaily to shake her finger at me as I passed.

I think Nurse Hillyer would have liked to sit with me sometimes till I fell asleep, but Aunt

AGNES’ STORY.

Wendover had forbidden it. So when I was tucked in bed nurse went away, carrying the light with her. And all at once the dark became peopled with fantastical shapes. I fancied I saw Satan as Milton had painted him, and as Dante had painted him ; for I had read more or less of both Paradise Lost and the Divine Comedy. Besides these, satyrs and goblins passed before my eyes. The scratching of a mouse in the wall set my heart beating, for I imagined that some dreadful thing was about to spring on me. This night I had a new horror, for I felt that the eyes of God were searching me as Aunt Wendover’s always did. Nurse Hillyer had said I never could get away from him, and I was afraid of the very thought of a being who could see me even in the dark. This was worse than any of my old terrors, and I felt that I never should fall asleep. Aunt Wendover had said that there was no God, and Nurse Hillyer said there was one, and an awful one. My ideas of God had been gleaned from the books I had read, principally from Milton. I do not think there was a Bible in the house, although Nurse Hillyer must have had one. I did not then even know of the existence of a Bible, though I had read many books far beyond my years.

The wind rose as the evening wore on, and I

WENDOVER HOUSE.

could hear the waves beating against the rocks. I had no fear of the storm ; I had worse terrors. I was so tired of the island and the dreary house, that I meant to escape some day, I did not know how I should do it, but I meant to reach the mainland where there were houses and churches. I knew they were churches, though I had no idea what they were for. I would run and run so far that Aunt Wendo ver’s eyes could never spy me out. Now I could not go, for I could not escape God’s eyes. Nurse said he never slept, and Aunt Wendover did sleep sometimes. I shuddered, and buried my face in the pillow, and after a while I fell asleep.

CHAPTER IL

AGNES’ STOEY.

I HEAR a dear, familiar tone,

A loving hand clasps close my own,

And earth seems made for me alone.

. — Alice Cary.

^HE storm was over when I awoke next morning, and except a few broken branches of trees, left no trace behind.

I hoped that I should breakfast with nurse, but my aunt had left no such order ; so I was forced to go down to the dining-room. Aunt Wendover sat behind the urn, looking more forbidding than ever, and she seemed to scan me from head to foot as I came in. Instinctively, I felt of my hair, to know if it was smooth, and looked to see if my apron was on straight. A lovely morning sun was shining, but the blinds were not opened, and the room had a musty smell that made me feel faint. I crumbled my bread in my milk, and ate a few spoonfuls, swallowing them with difficulty. I\Iy aunt seemed to eat even less than I, and she soon rose and left the room. Not one word

WENDOVER HOUSE.

had she spoken to me except to reprove me for sitting on the edge of my chair. I knew she was angry with me for my meddling the day before, and I was glad to get off without any reference to the subject.

After breakfast I had nothing to do for two hours, for my governess. Miss Manning, never came until ten.^ I went over my lessons to make sure I knew them, then I read a while, and at last I went into the corridor. In spite of the knowledge that God’s eyes were on me, I wanted to open the organ. I did not mean to play on it, but I wanted to see if it was locked as the piano was. Two or three times I laid my hand on the lid and took it away again, and when I mustered courage to try to raise the lid I found it locked. As I stood there, Barbara came up and told me that Miss Manning was waiting in the school-room. I sighed and turned away. Slowly I opened the door and sat down at my desk.

I always thought that Aunt Wendover engaged Miss Manning because she w^as so much like herself. She had the same spare, straight figure, the same keen, black eyes, and the. same voice, sharp and shrill. Miss Manning, however, was not so severe as my aunt, and when I had good lessons, she was almost kind. I recited and studied till noon, when lunch was

AGNES’ STORY.

served in the school-room. There were more lessons till two, when Miss Manning was rowed back to the mainland, and I was free again. This morning Miss Manning was quite gracious : I had recited my Latin perfectly, and she allowed me to talk more than usual. I asked her many questions about the city and the people who lived there, and she answered me till I asked, ‘‘Why won’t Aunt Wendover let me go there? I am tired of this house I ”

“ Little girls should do as their elders tell them, and ask no questions,” she replied. After that I could not make her talk any more, and we went back to our lessons.

After she left, I went to the wharf and watched her boat till it was but a tiny speck on the water. Hers was almost the only boat that ever came to the island. Once in a while a redfaced, gray-haired man, whom Nurse Hillyer said was Aunt W endo ver’s lawyer, came. Then I was sent out of the way while my aunt and Mr. Bishop were talking about something nurse called “ business.” Sometimes Dr. Barnham came, but not as^ often as I wished, for I liked him. He always spoke pleasantly to me, a!id sometimes gave me sugar-plums. But he scarcely looked at me when my aunt was present, for she never liked any one to notice me much. I used to watch the water and wish that

WENDOVER HOUSE.

the doctor would come. I counted the time since he had last been at the island. It was only three weeks, and sometimes he did not come for months at a time. There was no use in watching for him, so I turned back to the house. I stood in front and scanned the windows for a friendly face, but no one was there save my aunt, who raised the drawing-room window and told me to come in, for the dew was falling.

Nothing happened to break the dull monotony of those days. I studied and read and dreamed as usual, and every day I grew more morbid. Nurse Hilly er was taken ill, and I was forbidden to go to her room. Dr. Barnham came and went, but it was when I was in the school-room, and I did not once see him. Winter was not far distant, and we had a long spell of rainy weather, so that I could not go out. My daily exercise was a walk on the piazza, and as my aunt usually sat in the drawing-room in sight, I did not enjoy myself much.

I often wondered why Aunt Wendover did not let me get sick and die, for she did not seem to care for me. I knew that people died, for I had read it in books, but I had little idea what death meant, except that I would go away from Aunt Wendover. I wonder now that I did not go crazy in those long daj^s, for I had

AGNES’ STOKY.

no hope to keep my heart alive. I missed the organ so that I was driven to disobedience. Oncp when I examined the lock, I found that it was weak, and I got a knife from the kitchen and pried it open. I was so frightened at my success, that I did not dare play that day. But after that, when I knew that my aunt was busied in another part of the house, I used to play my favorite wail. I had an addition to it now, for life was more dull and barren than ever.

A couple of weeks later I heard the door-bell ring one day, and, hoping that it might be Dr. Barnham, I ran to the stairway. But the voice was not his, it sounded like Mr. Bishop’s. Nurse Hillyer, who was around again, came and called me to her room, and I took my tea there that night.

When the door opened to admit Barbara, I heard a sound that I had never before heard in that house — a laugh, a light, happy laugh. It startled me, and I asked, “ What is that ? ”

“ 1 heard nothing,” said nurse, and I turned to my books.

She said I was not to go down-stairs again that night, and she took me early to bed. I fell asleep wondering how anybody dared laugh in AVendover House.

Next morning as I stood at the head of the

WENDOVER HOUSE.

stairs, my eyes fell upon some thing that I supposed was an apparition. The figifte of a child, a fair boy of about my own age, stood before me. He was dressed like some pictures I had seen, in a black velvet dress and a broad lace collar, and long curls of yellow hair fell upon his shoulders. He came toward me smiling, and I was afraid of him, for I thought he was an angel. Just then the door of my aunt’s room opened, and Miller, her maid, beckoned to the child. He ran away, turning his head to look at me. I had breakfast with nurse, and when I questioned her about the strange child, she merely shook her head. I could not make her speak.