IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 1.25 
 
 |50 ""'^« 
 
 2.2 
 2.0 
 
 |||||m 
 
 U Hi 1.6 
 
 jL^A Ui 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 <v 
 
 :<\^ 
 
 ^\^ 
 
 
 
 »^^ 
 
 > 
 
 <'/i'0~ 
 
 33 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 ^ 
 
 -<^- 
 

 fc 
 
 ^ 
 
 CIHM 
 Microfiche 
 Series 
 (l\/lonographs) 
 
 JCIVIH 
 
 Collection de 
 microfiches 
 (monographies) 
 
 Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 
 
 > 
 
 ^\J 
 
Technical and Bibliographic Notes / Notes techniques et bibliographiques 
 
 The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original 
 copy available for filming. Features of this copy whicCi 
 may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any 
 of the images in the reproduction, or which may 
 significantly change the usual method of filming, are 
 checked below. 
 
 
 
 D 
 
 Coloured covers/ 
 Couverture de couleur 
 
 Covers damaged/ 
 Couverture endommagee 
 
 Covers restored and/or laminated/ 
 Couverture restauree et/ou pelliculee 
 
 D 
 
 □ Cover title missing/ 
 Le titre de couvertu 
 
 D 
 
 couverture manque 
 
 Coloured maps/ 
 
 Caites geographiques en couleur 
 
 
 
 ^1 Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ 
 Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) 
 
 
 
 n 
 
 n 
 
 n 
 
 Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ 
 Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur 
 
 Bound with other material/ 
 Relie avec d'auires documents 
 
 Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion 
 along interior margin/ 
 La reliure serree peut causer de I'ombre ou de la 
 distortion le long de la marge interieure 
 
 Blank leaves added during restoration may appear 
 within the text. Whenever possible, these have 
 been omitted from filming/ 
 II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajoutees 
 lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, 
 mais, lorsque cela etait possible, ces pages n'ont 
 pas ete filmees. 
 
 Additional comments: / 
 Commentaires supplementaires: 
 
 This (tern is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ 
 
 Ce document est filme au taux de reduction indique ci-dessous. 
 
 14X 18X 
 
 L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il 
 lui a iti possible de se procurer. Les details de est 
 exemplaire qui sont peut-£tre uniques du point de vue 
 bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une image 
 reproduite. ou qui peuvent exiger une modification 
 dans la methode normale de f ilmage sont indiques 
 ci-dessous. 
 
 □ Coloured page;/ 
 Pages de couleur 
 
 □ Pages damaged/ 
 Pages endommagees 
 
 □ Pages restored and/or laminated/ 
 Pages restaurees et/ou pellicultes 
 
 Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ 
 Pages decolorees, tachetees ou piquees 
 
 □ Pages detached/ 
 Pages detachees 
 
 0Showth rough/ 
 Transparence 
 
 Quality of print varies/ 
 Qualite inegale de Time 
 
 impression 
 
 □ Continuous pagination/ 
 Pagination continue 
 
 □ Includes index(es)/ 
 Comprend un (des) index 
 
 Title on header taken from:/ 
 Le titre de I'en-t^te provient: 
 
 n Title page of issue/ 
 Page de titre de la livraison 
 
 □ Caption of issue/ 
 Titre de depart de la 
 
 livraison 
 
 I I Masthead/ 
 
 Generique (periodiques) de la livraison 
 
 10X 
 
 22X 
 
 12X 
 
 26 X 
 
 16X 
 
 J 
 
 20X 
 
 30X 
 
 24 X 
 
 28X 
 
 32X 
 
u'il 
 est 
 de vue 
 
 e 
 
 es 
 
 D 
 
 32 X 
 
 The copy filmed here has been reprod jced thanks 
 to the generosity of: 
 
 National Library of Canada 
 
 The images appearing here are the best quality 
 possible considering the condition and legibility 
 of the original copy and in keeping with the 
 filming contract specifications. 
 
 Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed 
 beginning with the front cover and ending on 
 ;he last page with a printed or illustrated impres- 
 sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All 
 other original copies are filmed beginning on the 
 first page with a printed or illustrated impres- 
 sion, and ending on the last page with a printed 
 or illustrated impression. 
 
 The last recorded frame on each microfiche 
 shall contain the symbol —»- (meaning "CON- 
 TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), 
 whichever applies. 
 
 Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at 
 different reduction ratios. Those too large to be 
 entirely included in one exposure are filmed 
 beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to 
 right and top to bottom, as many frames as 
 required. The foMowinr] diagrams illustrate the 
 method: 
 
 1 2 3 
 
 L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit gr§cc d la 
 g^n^rosit^ de: 
 
 Bibliothdque nationale du Canada 
 
 Les images suivantes ont 6td reproduites avec le 
 plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et 
 de la nettet6 de l'exemplaire filmd, et en 
 conrormit6 avec les conditions du contrat de 
 filmage. 
 
 Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en 
 papier est imprim6e '•ont filmis en commenpant 
 par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la 
 dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte 
 d'impresFion ou d'illustration, soit par le second 
 plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires 
 originaux sont film6s en commen?ant par la 
 premidre page qui comporte une empreinte 
 d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par 
 la dernidre page qui comporte une telle 
 empreinte. 
 
 Un des symboies suivants apparaitra sur la 
 dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le 
 cas: le symbole — ^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le 
 symbole V signifie "FIN". 
 
 Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtro 
 film6s i des taux de reduction diff§rents. 
 Lorsque le document est trop grand pour §tre 
 reproduit en un sou! clich6, il est film6 d partir 
 de I'angle sup^rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, 
 et de haut en bas, en pranant le nombre 
 d'images n6cessaire. Les diagrammes suivants 
 illustrent la mdthode. 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
-/ .■ 
 
V 
 
 ' Ve great wine cellar S."— Page 84 
 
When The World Was 
 Younger 
 
 BY 
 
 MI3S M. E. BRADDON 
 
 AUIHOR OK 
 
 Lady Audley's Secret," "Aurora Floyd," " Dead Men's Shoes 
 
 TORONTO: 
 
 GRORGE N. MORANG, P 
 63 YoNca; Strf.ki 
 
 L'IfLIoHER 
 
If.' 
 
 u^ 
 
 Copyright 1897 
 
 BY 
 MISS M. E. IlKADDON 
 
 IVhen The IVorld IVas Younger 
 
WHEN THE WORLD WAS YOUNGER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A HARBOR FROM THE STORM. 
 
 The wind howled across the level fields, and Hjin^ 
 showers of sleet rattled against the old leathern coach m 
 It drove through the thickening dusk. A bitter winter, 
 this year of the Royal tragedy. 
 
 A rainy summer, and a mild, rainy autumn, had been fol- 
 lowed by the hardest frost this generation hud ever known. 
 The Thames was frozen over, and temioestuous winds had 
 shaken the ships in the Pool, and the steep gable ends and 
 tall chimney-stacks on London VMge. A never-to-be- 
 forgotten winter, which had witn s.ed the martyrdom of 
 England's king, and the exile of her chief nobility, while 
 a rabble Parliament rode roughshod over a cowed people 
 Gloom and sour visages prevailed, the May-poles were down, 
 the play-houses were closed, the bear-gardens were empty 
 the cock-pits were desolate ; and a saddened population, 
 impoverished and depressed by the sacrifices that had been 
 exacted, and the tyranny that had been exercised in the 
 name of Liberty, were ground under the iron heel of Crom- 
 well's red-coats. 
 
 A pitiless journey from London to Louvain, a journey 
 of many days and nights, prolonged by accident and dif- 
 
 5 
 
6 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 fieulty, spun out to uttermost tedium for those two in the 
 licavily moving old leathern coach. Who and what were 
 they, these wearied travelers, journeying together silently 
 towards a destination which promised but little of pleasure 
 or luxury by way of welcome— a destination which meant 
 severance for those two ? 
 
 One was Sir John Kirkland, of the lAFanor Moat, Bucks, 
 a notorious :^[alignant. a gray-bearded Cavalier, aged by 
 trou})lo and hard fighting ; a soldier and servant who had 
 sacrificed himself and his fortune for the king, and who 
 must needs begin the world anew now that his master was 
 murdered, his own goods confiscated, the old family man- 
 sion, the house in Avhich his parents died and his children 
 were born, emjjticd of all its valuables, and left to the care 
 of servants, and his master's son a wanderer in a foreign 
 land, with little hope of ever winning back crown and 
 scejiter. 
 
 Sadness was the dominant expression of Sir John's stern, 
 strongly marked countenance, as ho sat staring out at the 
 level landscape through the unglazed coach window, staring 
 blankly across those wind-swept Flemish fields where the 
 cattle were clustering in sheltered corners, a monotonous 
 expanse crossed by ice-bound dykes that looked black as 
 ink, save where the last rays of the setting sun touched 
 their iron hue with blood-red splashes. Pollard willows 
 indicated the edge of one field, gaunt poplars marked 
 the boundary of another, alike leafiess and unbeautiful, 
 standing darkly out against the dim gray sky. Night 
 was hastening towards the travelers, narrowing and 
 blotting out that level landscape, field, dyke, and leafless 
 wood. 
 
 Sir John put his head out of the coach-window, and 
 looked anxiously along the straight road, peering through 
 the shades of evening in the hope of seeing the crocketed 
 spires and fair cupolas of Louvain in the distance. But 
 
fcr. 
 
 ose two in the 
 id what were 
 [ether silently 
 le of pleasure 
 which meant 
 
 Moat, Bucks, 
 lior, aged by 
 tint who had 
 ng, and who 
 is master was 
 family man- 
 ias children 
 ft to the care 
 in a foreign 
 c crown and 
 
 John's stern, 
 g out at the 
 idow, staring 
 Is where the 
 monotonous 
 ced black aa 
 sun touched 
 Hard willows 
 >lars marked 
 iinbeautiful, 
 ky. Night 
 rowing and 
 and leafless 
 
 vindow, and 
 •ing through 
 le crockcted 
 tance. But 
 
 A Harbor From The Storm. 7 
 
 he could see nothing save a waste of level pastures and the 
 gathernig darkness. Not a light anywhere, not a . -n of 
 human habitation. '^ 
 
 Useless to ga^^e any longer into the impenetrable night. 
 The traveler leant back into a corner of the carriage with 
 lolded arms, and, with a deep sigh. ,„,npos,,l himself for 
 slumber. lie had slept but little for the last week ^'he 
 passage from Harwich to Ostend in a lishing snuu;k had 
 been a perilous transit, prolonged by adverse winds. 
 Meep had been impossible on board that wretched craft • 
 and the land journey had been fraught with vexation and 
 delays of all kinds-stupidity of postilions, dearth of horse- 
 flesh, badness of the roads-all a.ings that can vex and 
 hmder. 
 
 Sir John's traveling companion, a small child in a cloak 
 and hood, crept closer to him in the darkness, nestled np 
 agamst his elbow, and pushed her little cold hand into his 
 leathern glove. 
 
 ''You are crying again, father," she said, full of pity. 
 You were crying last night. Do you always cry when it 
 grows dark?" '^ 
 
 "It does not become a man to shod tears in thedaylio-ht 
 little maid," her father answered gently. ° ' 
 
 ''Is it for the poor king you are crying-the king those 
 wicked men murdered ? " 
 
 "Ay, Angela, for the king ; and for the queen and her 
 fatherless children, still more than for the king, for he has 
 crowned himself with a crown of glory, the diadem of mar- 
 tyrs, and is resting from labor and sorrow, to rise victo- 
 rious at the great day when his enemies and his murderers 
 shall stand ashamed before him. I weep for that once so 
 lovely lady-widowed, discrowned, needy, desolate-a beg- 
 gar in the land where her father was a grt.at king. A har^d 
 fate, Angela, father and husband both murdered." 
 *'Wa8 the queen's father murdered, too?" asked the 
 
8 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 silver-sweet voice out of darkness, a pretty piping note like 
 the song of a bird. 
 
 " Yes, love." 
 
 « Did Bradshaw murder liim ? '* 
 
 <* No, dearest, 'twas in France he was slain— in Paris ; 
 stabbed to death by a rnadman." 
 
 " And was the queen sorry ?" 
 
 "Ay, sweetheart, she has drained the cup of sorrow. 
 She was but a child when her father died. She can but 
 dimly remember that dreadful day. And now she sits, 
 banished and widowed, to hear of her husband's martyr- 
 dom ; her elder sons wanderers, her young daughter a 
 
 prisoner." 
 
 " Poor queen ! " piped the small sweet voice, " I am so 
 
 sorry for her." 
 
 Little had she ever known but sorrow, this child of the 
 Great Rebellion, bom in the old Buckinghamshire manor 
 house, while her father was at Falmouth with the Prince 
 —born in the midst of civil war, a stormy petrel bringing 
 no message of peace from those unknown skies whence she 
 came, a harbinger of woe. Infant eyes love bright colors. 
 This baby's eyes looked upon a house hung with black. 
 Her mother died before the child was a fortnight old. They 
 had christened her Angela, " Angel of Death," said the 
 father, when the news of his loss reached him, after the 
 lapse of many days. His fair young wife's coffin was in the 
 family vault under the parish church of St. John in the 
 Vale, before he knew that he had lost her. 
 
 There was an elder daughter, Hyacinth, seven years the 
 senior, who had been sent across the Channel in the care 
 of an old servant at the beginning of the troubles between 
 king and Parliament. 
 
 She had been placed in the charge of her maternal grand- 
 mother, the Marquise dc IMontrond, who had taken ship 
 for Calais when the court left London, leaving her royal 
 
A Harbor From The Storm. 
 
 mistress to weatlicr the storm. A hidy who had. wealth 
 and prestige in lior own country, who had been a famous 
 beauty when Ilielielieu was in power, and who iiad been 
 admired by ihat serious and sober monarch, Louis tlie 
 Thirteentli, couki scarcely be expected to put up with tlie 
 shifts and shortcomings of an Oxford lodging-house, with 
 the ever-present fear of finding herself in a town besieged 
 by Lord Essex and the rebel army. 
 
 With Madame de Montrond llyac" \ had been reared, 
 partly in a mediaeval mansion, Avith a portcullis, and four 
 squat towers, near the Chdteau d'Arques, and partly in 
 Paris, where the lady had a lino house in the ^Marais. The 
 sisters had never looked upon each other's faces, Angela 
 having entered upon the troubled scene after Hyacinth 
 had been carried across the Channel to her grandmother. 
 And now the father was racked with anxiety lest evil should 
 befall that elder daughter in the war between Mazarin and 
 the Parliament, which was reported to rage with increas- 
 ing fury. 
 
 Angela's awakening reason became conscious of a 
 world where all was fear and sadness. The stories she 
 heard in her childhood were stories of that fierce war which 
 was reaching its disastrous close while she was in her cradle. 
 She was told of the happy peaceful England of old, before 
 darkness and confusion gathered over the land ; before the 
 hearts of the people were set against their king by a wicked 
 and rebellious Parliament. 
 
 She heard of battles lost by the king and his partisans ; 
 cities besieged and taken ; a flash of victory followed by 
 humiliating reverses ; the king's party always at a dis- 
 advantage ; and hence the fidling away of the feeble and 
 the false, the treachery of those who had seemed friends, 
 the impotence of the faithful. 
 
 Angela heard so often and so much of those things — from 
 old Lady Kirkland, her grandmother, and from the gray- 
 
 K ■ '1 
 
10 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 m 
 
 haired servants at the manor — that she grew to understand 
 them with a comprehension seemingly far beyond her 
 tender years ; but a child so reared is inevitably older than 
 her years. This little one had never known childish pleas- 
 ures or play, childish companions or childish fancies. 
 
 She roamed about the spacious gardens full of saddest 
 thoughts, burdened with all the cares that weighed down 
 that kingly head yonder ; or she stood before the pictured 
 face of the monarch with clasped hands and tearful eyes, 
 looking up at him with the adoring compassion of a child 
 prone to hero-worship — thinking of him already as saint 
 and martyr — he whose martyrdom was not yet consummated 
 in blood." 
 
 King Charles had presented his faithful servant. Sir 
 John Kirkland, with a half-length replica of one of his 
 Vandyke portraits, a beautiful head, with a strange inward 
 look— that lookof isolation and aloofness which we who know 
 his story take for a prophecy of doom — which the sculptor 
 Bernini had remarked when he copied the royal head for 
 marble. The picture hung in the place of honor in the 
 long narrow gallery at the Manor Moat, with trophies of 
 Flodden and Zutphen arranged against the blackened oak 
 paneling above it. The Kirklands had been a race of 
 soldiers since the days of Edward the Third. The house 
 was full of warlike decorations — tattered colors, old armor, 
 memorials of fighting Kirklands who had long been dust. 
 
 There came an evil day when the rabble rout of Crom- 
 well's crop-haired soldiery burst in^o the manor house to 
 pillage and destroy, carrying off curios and relics that 
 were the gradual accumulation of a century and a half of 
 peaceful occupation. 
 
 The old dowager's gray hairs had barely saved her from 
 oiitTa^^e on that bitter day. It was only her utter helpless- 
 ness and afflicted condition that prevailed upon the Par- 
 liamentary captain, and prevented him from carrying out, 
 
A Harbor From The Storm. n 
 
 his design, which was to haul her off to one of those 
 London prisons at that time so gorged with Eoyalist cap- 
 tives that the devilish ingenuity of the Parliament had 
 devised floating jails on the Thames, where persons of 
 quality and character were herded together below decks, 
 to the loss of health, and even of life. 
 
 Happily for old Lady Kirkland, she was too lame to 
 walk, and her enemies had no horse or carriage in which 
 to convey her ; so she was left at peace in her son's plun- 
 dered mansion, whence all that was valuable and easily 
 portable was carried away by the Eoundheads. Silver 
 plate and family plate had been sacrificed to the king's 
 necessities. 
 
 The pictures, not being either portable or readily con- 
 vertible into cash, had remained on the old paneled 
 walls. 
 
 Angela used to go from the king's picture to her father's. 
 Sir John's was a more rugged face than the Stuart's, a 
 harder expression ; but the child's heart went out to the 
 image of the father she had never seen since the dawn of 
 consciousness. He had made a hurried journey to that 
 quiet Buckinghamshire valley soon after her birth— had 
 looked at the baby in her cradle, and then had gone down 
 into the vault where his young wife was lying, and had 
 stayed for more than an hour in cold and darkness alone 
 with his dead. That lovely French wife had been his 
 junior by more than twenty years, and he had loved her pas- 
 sionately—had loved her and left her for duty's sake. No 
 Kirkland had ever faltered in his fidelity to crown and 
 king. This John Kirkland had sacrificed all things, and, 
 alone with his beloved dead in the darkness of that narrow 
 charnel house, it seemed to him that there was nothing 
 left for him except to cleave to those fallen fortunes and 
 patiently await the issue. 
 He had fought in many battles and had escaped with a 
 
 I 
 
;l 
 
 12 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 few scars ; and he was carrying his daughter to Louvain, 
 intending to place her in the charge of her great-aunt, 
 Madame de Montrond's half-sister, who was head of a con- 
 vent in that city, a safe and pious shelter, where the child 
 might he reared in her mother's faith. 
 
 Lady Kirkland, the only daughter of the Marquise de 
 Montrond, one of Queen Henrietta Maria's ladies-in-wait- 
 ing, had been a papist, and, albeit Sir John had adhered 
 steadfastly to the principle ^f the Reformed Church, he 
 had promised his bride and the marquise, her mother, that 
 if their nuptials were blessed with offspring, their children 
 should be educated in the Roman faith, a promise difficult 
 of performance in a land where a stormy tide ran high 
 against Rome, and where popery was a scarlet specter that 
 alarmed the ignorant and maddened the bigoted. And 
 now, duly provided with a safe conduct from the regicide, 
 Bradshaw, he was journeying to the city where ho was to 
 part with his daughter for an indefinite period, lie had 
 seen but little of her, and yet it seemed as hard to part 
 thus as if she had prattled at his knees and nestled in his 
 arms every day of her young life. 
 
 At last across the distance, against the wind-driven 
 clouds of that stormy winter sky, John Kirkland saw the 
 lights of the city— not many lights or brilliant of their 
 kind, but a glimmer here and there— and behind the glim- 
 mer the dark bulk of masonry, roofs, steeples, watch- 
 towers, bridges. 
 
 The carriage stopped at one of the gates of the city, and 
 there were questions asked and answered, and papers shown, 
 but there was no obstacle to the entrance of the travelers. 
 The name of the XJrsuline Convent acted like a charm, for 
 Louvain was papist to the core, in those days of Span- 
 ish dominion. It had been a city of refuge nearly a hun- 
 dred years ago for all that was truest and bravest and 
 noblest among English Roman Catholics, in the cruel days 
 
A Harbor From The Storm. 
 
 '3 
 
 of Queen Elizabeth, and Englishmen had become the lead- 
 ing spirits of the U dversity there, and had attracted the 
 youth of Romanist England to the sober old Flemish town, 
 and before the establishment of Dr. Alien's rival seminary 
 at Douai, Sir John could have found no safer haven for 
 his little ewe lamb. 
 
 The tired horses blundered heavily along the stony 
 streets and crossed more than one bridge. The toAvn 
 seemed pervaded by water, a deep narrow stream like a 
 canal, on which the houses looked, as if in feeble mockery 
 of Venice— houses with steep crow-step gables, some of 
 them richly decorated ; narrow windows, for the most part 
 dark, but with here and there the yellow light of lamp or 
 candle. 
 
 The convent faced a broad open square, and had a large 
 walled garden in its rear. The coach stopped in front of 
 a handsome doorway, and after the travelers had been 
 scrutinized and interrogated by the portress through an 
 opening in the door, they were admitted into a spacious 
 hall, paved with black and white marble, and adorned 
 with a statue of the Virgin Mother, and thence to a par- 
 lor dimly lighted by a small oil lamp, where they waited 
 for about ten minutes, the little girl shivering with cold, 
 before the Superior appeared. 
 
 She was a tall woman, advanced in years, with a hand- 
 some, but melancholy countenance. She greeted the Cava- 
 lier as a familiar friend. 
 
 "Welcome to Flanders!" she said. "You have fled 
 from that accursed country where our Church is despised 
 and persecuted " 
 
 " Nay, reverend kinswoman, I have fled but to go back 
 again as fast as horses and sails can carry me. While the 
 fortunes of my king are at stake, my place is in England, 
 or it may be in Scotland, where there are still those who 
 are ready to fight to the death in the royal cause. But I 
 
14 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 'ill 
 
 have brought this little one for shelter and safe keeping, and 
 tender usage, trusting in you who are of kin to her as I 
 could trust no one else — and, furthermore, that she may 
 be reared in the faith of her dead mother. 
 
 " Sweet soul ! " murmured the nun. " It was well for 
 her to be taken from your troubled England to the king- 
 dom of the saints and martyrs." 
 
 " True, reverend mother ; yet those blasphemous level- 
 lers who call us ' Malignants,' have dubbed themselves 
 * Saints.'" 
 
 " Then affairs go no better with you in England, I fear. 
 Sir John ? " 
 
 " Nay, madam, they go so ill that they have reached the 
 lowest depth of infamy. Hell itself hath seen no spectacle 
 more awful, no murder more barbarous, no horrider tri- 
 umph of wickedness than the crime which was perpetrated 
 this day sennight at Whitehall." 
 
 The nun looked at him wistfully, with clasped hands, as 
 one who half apprehended his meaning. 
 
 " The king ! " she faltered, " still a prisoner ?" 
 
 **Ay, reverend lady, but a prisoner in paradise, where 
 angels are his guards, and saints and martyrs his com- 
 panions. He has regained his crown ; but it is the crown 
 of martyrdom, the aureole of slaughtered saints. England, 
 our little England, that was once so great under the strong 
 rule of that virgin queen who made herself the arbiter of 
 Christendom, and the wonder of the world " 
 
 The pious lady shivered and crossed herself at this praise 
 of the heretic queen— praise that could only come from a 
 heretic. 
 
 " Our blessed and peaceful England has become a den of 
 thieves, given over to the ravening wolves of rebellion and 
 dissent, the penniless soldiery who would bring down all 
 men's fortunes to their own level, seize all, eat and drink 
 all, and trample crown and peerrge in the mire. They 
 
A Harbor From The Storm. 
 
 15 
 
 have Blain him, reverend mother, this impious henl— thoy 
 gave him tlie mockery of a trial— just as his Master, Christ, 
 was mocked. They spurned and spat upon him, even as 
 our Redeemer was spurned ; and then, on the Sabbath day, 
 they cried aloud in their conventicles, ' Lord, hast Thou 
 not smelt a sweet savor of blood ?' Ay, tliese murderers 
 gloried m their crime, bragged of their gory hands, lifted 
 them up towards heaven as a token of righteousness !" 
 
 The Cavalier was pacing to and fro in the dimness of the 
 convent parlor, with quick, agitated steps, his nostrils 
 quivermg, grizzled brows bent over angry eyes, his hand 
 trembling with rage as it clutched his sword-hilt. 
 
 The reverend mother drew Angela to her side, took off 
 
 the little black silk hood, and laid her hand caressingly on 
 
 the soft brown hair. 
 
 "Was it Cromwell's work ?" she asked. 
 
 "Nay, reverend mother, I doubt whether of his own 
 
 accord Cromwell would have done this thing. He is a 
 
 villain, and a villain-but he is a glorious villain. 
 
 The Parliament had made their covenant with the king at 
 Newport— a bargain which gave them all, and left him 
 nothing— save only his broken healtli, gray hairs, and the 
 bare name of king. He would have been but a phantom 
 of authority, powerless as the royal specters .Eneas met in 
 the under-world. They had got all from him-alJ save the 
 betrayal of his loyalist friends. There he budged not, but 
 was firm as rock." 
 
 '"Twas likely he rememberer Strafford, and that he 
 prospered no better for having flung a faithful dog to the 
 wolves," said the nun. 
 
 " Remembered Strafford ? Ay, that memory has been a 
 pillow of thorns through many a sleepless night. Xo it 
 was not Cromwell who sought the king's blood— though it 
 has been shed with his sanction. The Parliamenv had got 
 all, and would have been content ; but the faction they had 
 
 1? f- 
 
i6 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 ii 
 
 created was too strong for them. The levellers sent their 
 spokesman — one Pride, an ex-draynian, now colonel of 
 horse — to the door of the House of Commons, who arrested 
 the more faithful and moderate members, imposed himself 
 and his rebel crew upon the House, and hurried on that 
 violation of constitutional law, that travesty of justice, 
 which compelled an anointed king to stand before the 
 lowest of his subjects — the jacks-in-office of a mutinous 
 commonalty — to answer for having fought in defence of his 
 own inviolable rights." 
 
 " Did they dare condemn their king ? " 
 
 "Ah, madam, they found him guilty of high treason, in 
 that he had taken arms against the Parliament. They 
 sentenced their royal master to death — and seven days ago 
 London saw the spectacle of a judicial murder — a blameless 
 king slain by the minion of an armed rabble ! " 
 
 " But did the people — the English people — suffer this in 
 silence ? The wisest and best of them could surely be as- 
 sembled in your great city. Did the citizens of London 
 stand placidly by to see this deed accomplished ? " 
 
 " They were like sheep before the shearer. They were 
 dumb. Great God ! can I ever forget that sea of white 
 faces under the gray winter sky, or the universal groan 
 that went up to heaven when the stroke of the axe sounded 
 on the block, and men knew that the murder of their king 
 was consummated ; and when that anointed head with its 
 gray hairs, whitened Avith sorrow, mark you, not with age, 
 was lifted up, bloody, terrible, and proclaimed the head of 
 a traitor ? Ah, reverend mother, ten such moments will 
 age a man by ten years. Was it not the most portentous 
 tragedy which the earth has ever seen since He who was 
 both God and Man died upon Calvary ? Other judicial 
 sacrifices have been, but never of a victim as guiltless and 
 as noble. Had you but seen the calm beauty of his coun- 
 tenance as he turned it towards the people ! Oh, my king. 
 
A Harbor From The Storm. 
 
 17 
 
 my master, my beloved friend, when sliall I see that face 
 in paradise, with the blood washed from that royal brow, 
 with the smile of the redeemed upon those lii)s ! " 
 
 tie flung himself into a chair, covered his face with those 
 weather-stained hands, which liad broadened by much 
 grasping of sword and pistol, pike and gun, and so])bed 
 aloud, with a fierce passion that convulsed the strong mus- 
 cular frame. Of all the king's servants this one had been 
 the most steadfast, was marked in the black book of the 
 Parliament as a notorious Malignant. From the raising of 
 the standard on the castle-hill at Nottingham— in the *sad 
 evening of a tempestuous day, with but scanty attendance 
 and only evil presages— to the treaty at Is'ewport, and the 
 prison on the low Hampshire coast, this man had been his 
 master's constant companion and friend ; fighting in every 
 battle, cleaving to kin- and prince in spite of every oppos- 
 ing influence, carrying letters between father and son in 
 the teeth of the enemy, humbling himself as a servant, and 
 performing menial labors, in those latter days of bitterness 
 and outrage, when all courtly surroundings were denied 
 the fallen monarch. 
 
 And now he mourned his martyred king more bitterly 
 than he would have mourned his own brother. 
 
 The little girl slipped from the reverend mother's lap, 
 and ran across the room to her father. 
 
 " Don't cry, father ! " she murmured, with her own eyes 
 streaming. " It hurts me to see you." 
 
 " Nay, Angela," he answered, clasping her to his breast. 
 " Forgive me that I think more of my dead king than of 
 my living daughter. Poor child, thou hast seen nothing 
 but sorrow since thou wert born ; a land racked by civil 
 war ; Englishmen changed into devils ; a home ravaged 
 and made desolate ; threatenings and curses ; thy good 
 grandmother's days shortened by sorrow and rough usage. 
 Thou wert born into a house of mourni' and hast s^en 
 
x8 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 II 
 
 nothing but black since thon hadat eyes to notice the things 
 around thee. Those tender ears should have heard only 
 loving words. But it is over, dearest ; and thou hast found 
 a haven within these walls. You will take care of her, 
 will you not, madam, for the sake of the niece you loved ?" 
 
 " She shall be the apple of my eye. No evil shall come 
 near her that my care and my prayers can avert. God has 
 been very gracious to our order — in all troublous times wo 
 have been protected. \\g have many pupils from the best 
 families of Flanders — and some even from Paris, whence 
 parents are glad to remove their children from the confu- 
 sion of the time. You need fear nothing while this sweet 
 child is with us ; and if in years to come she should desire 
 to enter our order " 
 
 " The Lord forbid," cried the Cavalier. " I want her to 
 bo a good and pious papist, madam, like her sweet mother ; 
 but never a nun. I look to her as the staff and comfort of 
 my declining years. Thou wilt not abandon thy father, 
 wilt thou, little one, when thou shalt be tall and strong as 
 a bulrush, and he shall be bent and gnarled with age, like 
 the old medlar on the lawn at the manor ? Thou wilt be 
 his rod and staff, witt thou not, sweetheart ? " 
 
 The child flung her arms round his neck and kissed him. 
 It was her only answer, but that mute reply was a vow. 
 
 Thou wilt stay here till England's troubles are over, 
 Angela, and that base herd yonder have been trampled 
 down. Thou wilt be happy here, and wilt mind thy book, 
 and be obedient to those good ladies who will teach thee ; 
 and some day, when our country is at peace, I will come 
 back to fetch thee." 
 
 "Soon," murmured the child, ''soon, father ?" 
 
 " God grant it may be soon, my beloved. It is hard for 
 father and children to be scattered, as we are scattered ; 
 thy sister Hyacinth in Paris, and thou in Flanders, and I 
 in England. Yet it must needs be so for a while I " 
 
A Harbor From The Storm. m 
 
 wiU.^tlet"''' r', ?•"=""'' '■""" to- and be reared 
 wuii Angela ? asked tlio rcvereml mother 
 
 " Nay madam, Hyacinth is well cared for with vonr 
 
 Bister, Madame deJI„„tron,l. Shei» as dear to her mater 
 
 nal grandmother as this littlo one here was to my glod 
 
 mother whose death last year left us a house of moundr 
 
 I yae,nthw,l douhtless inherit a consideralde ,,or io S 
 
 Madame de Montrond's wealth, which is not ins gniHoan" 
 
 &he IS he.ng brought up in tho precincts of the cfurt." 
 
 A worldly :,„<! a dangerous school for one so youn.. " 
 
 said the nun with a sigh. " I have heard my father talk 
 
 of what life was like at the Louvre when fhe iiearnai^ 
 
 onciM io";;:!' ch:.ch.'^"'-'™'' ™'"^' -" ''""^'»'^- 
 
 " Methinks that great captain's court must have been 
 laxer than that of Queen Anne and the cardinal. I have 
 been told that the child-king is being reared as it were ina 
 cloister, so strict are mother and guardian. My only far 
 for Ilyacmth is the troubled state of the city, given over 
 o,vd warfare only less virulent than that which has del' 
 ated England. I hear th.at this Frondo is no dr,awing. 
 room contest, no war of epigrams and pamphlets, but that 
 men are as earnest and as bloodthirsty as they were in tte 
 League I sh.all go from here to Paris tosee niy Z ."b 'n 
 before I make my way back to London." 
 
 " I question if you will And her in Paris," said the rev 
 ererjd mother ■' I had news from a priestin the dL se 
 of he coadjutor The queen-mother left tho city se re ly 
 ^nh her chosen favorites in the dead of the night on to 
 
 ^ mf ,!-■ w""™""' "'""■ ''"""« kept the festi™] of 
 Twelfth I, ight m a merry humor with her court. Ev^= her 
 waiting-women knew nothing of her plans. They went to 
 Samt Gcrma n, where they found the ch.ateau unfSed 
 mi where all the court had to sleep upon a few loads of 
 
ta 
 
 When The World W 's Younger. 
 
 straw. Hatred of the cardinal is growing fiercer every day, 
 and Piirid is in a statu of siege. The priiutesare siding with 
 Mathieu Mole and his parliament, and the provincial par- 
 liaments are taking up the quarrel. (Jod grunt that it 
 may not be in Franco as it has been with you in your unhappy 
 England ; hut I fear the Spanish queen and her Italian 
 minister scarce know the temper of the French people." 
 
 " Alas, good friend, we have fallen upon evil days, and 
 the spirit of the revolt is everywhere ; but if there is trou- 
 ble at the French court, there is all the more need that I 
 should make my way thither, be it at Saint Gernmin or in 
 Paris, and so assure myself of my pretty Hyacinth's safety. 
 She was so sweet an infant when my good and faithful 
 Brown carried her across the sea to Dieppe. Never shall 
 I forget that sad moment of parting, when the baby arms 
 were wreathed round my sweet saint's neck ; she so soon 
 to become again a mother, so brave and patient in her sor- 
 row at parting with her first-born. Ah, sister, there are 
 moments in this life that a man must needs remember, 
 even amidst the wreck of his country." He dashed away 
 a tear or two, and then turned to his kinswoman with out- 
 strotched hands and said, " Good-night, dear and reverend 
 moLiier ; good-night and good-bye. I shall sleep at the 
 nearest inn, and shall be on the road again at daybro:tk. 
 Good-bye, my soul's delight." 
 
 He clasped his daughter in his arms, with somethiv.? of 
 despair in the fervor of his embrace, telling himseil, as 
 the soft cheek was pressed against his own, how many 
 years -night pass ere ho would again so clasp that tender 
 form a, ' foel those innocent kisses on his bearded lips. 
 She ai:d ".. t.- er ph'l were all that was left to him to love 
 and cortf.)!'., an^ ihe elder sister had been taken from him 
 while si.-o rviv- a ;ittle chilli. He would not have knoAvn her 
 had he met her unawares ; nor had he ever felt for her 
 such a pathetic love as for this guiltless deatii-angel, this 
 
Within Convent VValli 
 
 21 
 
 hiihy whoso coming had niin..,! 1,,^ ]:<•„ i 
 
 CriAI'TKR II. 
 
 WITirr.v CONVENT WALLS. 
 
 vain, ana in all tlio.so years the rl.i ,1 f '^ ^'^'>^ ^^ ^^o«- 
 
 of loco, a Kirlisli f ,,, w, ' I !l " '""' ^I'f'ig'ide 
 for tho eonfing of t : 1' """ "" ™"™»' «»-n«nt 
 
 had iiovor seen. ' "'"' *''<' »'='<='• she 
 
 had been crioul c ,an"o "1 ft'": '," ^"""'""'' "'"» 
 
 conld tel] how thnjltflo fin 
 
 vier than tlie arm of the Stuarts. She 
 
 r of Cj 
 
 scorpions. Ireland 
 ■omwell had been hoa- 
 
 H 
 
 had trembled and 
 
II 
 
 22 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 had obeyed, and hat! prospered under tliut scorpion rule, 
 and England's armanients had been the terror of every sea 
 while Cromwell stood at the helm ; but now that strong 
 brain and bold heart were in the dust,, and it had taken 
 England little more than a year to discover that Puritan- 
 ism and the Rump were a mistake, and that to the core of 
 her heart she was loyal to her hereditary king. 
 
 She asked not what manner of man this hereditary ruler 
 might bo ; asked not whether ho were wise or foolish, 
 faithful or treacherous. She forgot all of tyranny and of 
 double-dealing she had suffered from his forbears. She 
 forgot even her terror of the scarlet specter, the grim wolf 
 of Rome, in her disgust at Puritan fervor which had torn 
 down down altar-rails, usurped church pulpits, destroyed 
 the beauty of ancient cathedrals. Like a v.'oman or a 
 child she held out arms to the u.nknown, in a natural recoil 
 from that iron rule which had extinguished her gavety, 
 silenced her noble liturgy, made innocent pleasures" and 
 elegant arts things forbidden. She wanted her churches 
 and her theaters, her cock-pits aiul taverns, and bear-gar- 
 dens and May-poles back again. She wanted to be ruled 
 by the law, and not by the sword ; and she longed with a ro- 
 mantic longing for that young wanderer who had fled from 
 her shores in a fishing-1joat, disguised as a servant, with 
 his life in his hand, to return in a glad procession of great 
 ships dancing over summer seas, eating, drinking, gaming, 
 in a coat worth scarce thirty shillings, and with empty 
 pockets for his loyal subjects to make haste and fill, 
 
 Angela had the convent parlor all to herself this fair 
 spring morniug. She was the favorite pupil of the nuns, 
 had taken no vows, pledged herself to no noviciate, ever 
 mindful of her prouiise to her father. Slie had lived as 
 happily and as merrily iu that abode of piety as she could 
 have lived in the finest palace in Eurojio. Tliore wore other 
 maidens, daughters of tho French and Flemish nobility. 
 
^Vithin Coiivent Walls. ^7, 
 
 who were tiiugjitand ro;M'(><l M-ifl.;„ fi,. 
 
 '"Hi u-itli tliem slie ],..,1 '\'^^'''^''°^« ^'onibor precincts, 
 
 gained in education by the tau ' ^T^ "f ^ "'^' ^^'^^ 
 girlhoods tinieoi-seclision S 1 ? ^'"^ "'"^^' ^"-^^• 
 tiling of tlioseeldcr ';, T . ''^ ^'"^^ ^"''^t tl>e pluv- 
 
 m tl^ CO ^^t^ t^rf^ -ere finishing their edueati Jn 
 
 pity, and ^;:u':^;S'rs;^ 
 
 the elder pupi,., she bec:;;.e , j'£ ^ ^ oil '""?"' 
 poruries, and iu a mam.ov thdr . c 1, '°^^'''"" 
 thoughtful than hei- r^l.^- f .ii -^ '^^'° ^^'''^^ "^^ro 
 
 i" piety an,, ii:! i. r^tiZv""-,; ""^^ "' "^''""^^ 
 -how 6ho w« .,.vo,. „i f - ' ■■"°""'S lici- sad story 
 
 foreign court- Vm" ,' "?' ''7 f''7 '"'«' "" "* " 
 Iicr. Prom hor t„. 1 • I ' '" "' "'"' tl.on admirod 
 
 superiority .::5\r;::;o-;;;r;;t::;:r!!;:;^:' 
 
 body. At fourteen vers of nivL; '"'"?*'' ""--y- 
 " the little «-ouder" ',^1,; ? '^ f'^-'-istencd lier 
 
 cmbarra.sedam „" cndisltd ; "',';'° !'"" "'"'^ 1'™-= 
 a.ch lovi,,., flatte ie ', 1 • "'^3' ''•■"! ''•^^irtod from 
 
 with a silent fdluZ; ""' ""'' ™"'™' '» -»-% ,or 
 
 those years, tossed upon troubled seas Iih! ' . ']!"'"'*^ 
 
 Princes wer w4™ *: ^ " e^t ' ""r "^ '"''''' ">= 
 free »-iiI when L„° is Mnit led "" ^"""" "' '"^ <»™ 
 
 ■.™<i, in order t. .re^;.' t°: ';,.i™:2"r' ""= °' ^"«- 
 
 '.aa.odanadvont„rous,i,e,a„dtdc?:;d":o7,E,,:^: 
 
 f; } • 'il 
 
 «li^^ 
 
24 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 became of him in a topsy-turvy world. ]5ut nv\i all things 
 were changed. Eighteen months of Richard Cronnvell's 
 irresolute rule had shattered the Commonwealth, and made 
 Englishmen eager for a king. Tlio country was already 
 tired of him whose succession had been admitted with bland 
 acquiescence, and ^Monk and the army were soon to become 
 masters of the situation. There was hope that the General 
 was rightly affected, and that the King Avould have his own 
 again, and that such of his followers as had not compounded 
 with the Parliamentary commission would get back their 
 confiscated estates, and that all who had sulfered in person 
 or pocket for loyalty's sake would be recompensed for their 
 sacrifices. 
 
 It Avas five years since Sir John's last appearance at the 
 convent, and Angela's heart beat fast at the thought that 
 he was so near. She was to see him this very day ; nay, 
 perhaps this very hour. His coach might have passed the 
 gate of the town already. lie was bringing his elder 
 daughter with him, that sister whose face she had never 
 seen, save in a miniature, and who was now a great lady, 
 the wife of Baron Fareham, of Chilton Abbey, Oxon, Fare- 
 ham Park, in the county of Hants, and Fareham House, 
 London, a nobleman whose estates liad come through the 
 ordeal of the Parliamentary commission with a reasonable 
 fine, and to whom extra favor had been shown by the com- 
 missioners, because he was known to be at heart a Kepub- 
 lican. In the meantime. Lady Fareham had a liberal in- 
 come allowed her by the marquise, her grandmother, and 
 she and her husband had been among the most splendid 
 foreigners at the French Court, whore the lady's beauty 
 and wit had placed her conspicuously in that galaxy of 
 brilliant women who shone and sparkled about the sun of 
 the European firmament — Le rci soleil, or '"tlio king," 
 par excellence, avIio took the blazing sun for his crest. 
 The Fronde had been a time of pleasurable excitement to 
 
Within Convent Walls. j- 
 
 the^aot^ecorfea had been ,„.g„tten at Parr^ir/sl" 
 
 Angela's heart beat fast at the thought ot being restored 
 to these dear ones, were it only for a short snan Thf 
 were not going to carry her away from tl e eonTn't • In7 
 n.deed, aeemg that she so loved heraunt, the good" v'er " d 
 rnother and that her heart so elove to thosfwalLarto 
 the ho y exercises which iillod so great a part of her "tfe 
 her fathers replying to a letter in which she had besongM 
 Inm to release her from her promise, and allow her tTdecU 
 cate hersel to God, had told her that although he „„n,d 
 rot surrender h,s daughter, to whom he looked or the 
 comfort of his closingyears. he would not urge her to e!ve 
 t e Sacre Ca=„r until he should feel Idmself old and felbTe 
 and m need of her tender care. Meanwhile she milt ll 
 annn .n all but the vows, and a dutiful n ce to T fk „d 
 aunt. Mother Anastasia, whose advanced years and f»n 
 health needed all consideration. ^ '"'''"« 
 
 But now, before he went back to En<>lttnd whitl,. . 
 hoped to accompany the king and the pHnee. e^e 
 was much older. Sir John lirkland w'as Z b^ S 
 h.s younger daughter, bringing Lady Pareham, whl 
 husband was now m attendance upon L Majesty n I „! 
 and, where t .ere were serious negotiations on umd-nel 
 tiations which would have been full of peril to t le f, i^t 
 
 =tritB:!r- ?st tf^^p^ 
 
 ..Wi^^inteWencewrt'ill";.^^^^^^^^ 
 The parlor window jutted into the square over against 
 
26 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 the town hall, and Angela could see the whole length of the 
 narrow street along which her father's carriage must come. 
 The tall slim figure and the fair girlish face stood out in 
 full relief against the gray stone mullion, bathed in sun- 
 light. The graceful form was undisguised by courtly 
 apparel. The soft brown hair fell in loose ringlets, which 
 were drawn back from the brow by a band of black ribbon. 
 The girl's gown was of soft gray woolen stuff, relieved by 
 a cambric collar covering the shoulders, and by cambric 
 elbow-sleeves. A coral and silver rosary was her only 
 ornament ; but face and form needed no aid from satins or 
 velvets, Venetian lace or Indian filagree. 
 
 The sweet serious face was chiefly notable for eyes of 
 darkest gray, under brows that were firmly arched and 
 almost black. The hair was a dark brown, the complexion 
 somewhat too pale for beauty. Indeed that low-toned 
 coloring made some people blind to the fine and regular 
 modeling of the high-bred face ; while there were others 
 who saw no charm in a countenance which seemed too 
 thoughtful for early youth, and therefore lacking in one 
 of youth's chief attractions, gladness. 
 
 The face lighted suddenly at this moment, as four great 
 gray Flanders horses came clattering along the narrow 
 street and into the square, dragging a heavy painted wooden 
 coach after them. The girl opened the casement and craned 
 out her neck to look at the arrival. The coach stopped 
 at the convent door, and a footman alighted and rang the 
 convent bell, to the interested curiosity of two or three 
 loungers upon the steps of the town hall over the way. 
 
 Yes, it was her father, grayer but less sad of visage than 
 at his last visit. His doublet and cloak were handsomer 
 than the clothes he had worn then, though they were still 
 of the same fashion, that English mode which tlm Cavalier 
 had worn before the beginning of the troubles, and which 
 he never changed. 
 
mgth of the 
 must come, 
 tood out in 
 led in sun- 
 by courtly 
 jlets, which 
 ack ribbon, 
 relieved by 
 by cambric 
 IS her only 
 )m satins or 
 
 for eyes of 
 arched and 
 complexion 
 t low-toned 
 and regular 
 were others 
 seemed too 
 king in one 
 
 B four great 
 the narrow 
 ntcd wooden 
 it and craned 
 ach stopped 
 md rang the 
 ;wo or three 
 the way. 
 f visage than 
 3 handsomer 
 ley were still 
 the Cavalier 
 s, and which 
 
 Within Convent Walls. 27 
 
 Immediately after him there alighted a vision of beauty 
 the loveliest of ladies, in sky-blue velvet and pale gray fur' 
 and with a long white feather encircling a sky-blue liat' 
 and a collar of Venetian lace veiling a bosom that scintil' 
 lated with jewels. 
 
 " Hyacinth I " cried Angela, in a flutter of delight. The 
 porters peered at the visitors through her spy-hole, and 
 being satisfied that they were the expected guests, speedily 
 opened the heavy iron-clamped door. 
 
 There was no one to interfere between father and daugh- 
 ter, sister and sister, in the convent parlor. Angela had 
 her dear people all to herself, the Mother Superior respect- 
 mg the confidences and outpourings of love, which neither 
 father nor children would wish to be witnessed even by a 
 kinswoman. Thus, by a rare breach of conventual disci- 
 plme, Angela was allowed to receive her guests alone. 
 
 ^ The lay-sister opened the parlor door and ushered in the 
 visitors, and Angela ran to meet her father, and fell sob- 
 bmg upon his breast, her face hidden against his velvet 
 doublet, her arms clasping his neck. 
 
 "What, mistress, hast thou so watery a welcome, now 
 that the clouds have passed away, and every loyal English 
 heart is joyful ?" cried Sir John, in a voice that was some- 
 what husky, but with a great show of gayety. 
 
 " Oh, sir, I have waited so long, so long for this day. 
 Sometimes I thought it would never come, that I should 
 never see my dear father again." 
 
 " Poor cliild ! it would have been only my desert hadst 
 thou forgotten me altogetlier. I might have come to you 
 sooner, pretty one ; indeed, I would have come, only things 
 went ill with me. I was down-hearted and hopeless of any 
 good fortune in a world that seemed given over to psalm- 
 smging scoundrels ; and till the tide turned I had no heart 
 to come nigh you. But now fortunes are mended, the 
 kmg's and mme, and you have a father once again and shall 
 
28 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 mA ill 
 
 Ml 
 i ^» 
 
 II 
 
 have a home by and by, the house where you were born, 
 and where your angel-mother made my life blessed. You 
 are like her, Angela ! " holding back the pale face in his 
 strong hands, and gazing upon it earnestly. " Yes, you 
 favor your mother ; but your face is over sad for fifteen sum- 
 mers. Look at your sister here ! Would you not say a 
 sunbeam had taken woman's shape and come dancing into 
 the room ?" 
 
 Angela looked round and greeted the lady, who had stood 
 aside while father and daughter met. Yes, such a face 
 suggested sunlight and summer, birds, butterflies, all things 
 buoyant and gladsome. A complexion of dazzling fairness, 
 pearly transpart it, with ever varying carnations ; eyes of 
 hea\enliest blue, liquid, laughing, brimming with espie- 
 glerie ; a slim little nose with an upward tilt, which expressed 
 a contemptuous gayety, an inquiring curiosity ; a dimpled 
 chin sloping a little towards the full round throat ; the bust 
 and shoulders of a Venus, the waist of a sylph, set off by 
 the close-fitting velvet bodice, with its diamond and tur- 
 quoise buttons ; hair of palest gold, fluffed out into curls 
 that were traps for sunbeams ; hands and arms of a milky 
 whiteness emerging from the large loose elbow-sleeves — a 
 radiant apparition which took Angela by surprise. She 
 had seen Flemish fraus in the richest attire, and among 
 them there had been women as handsome as Helena For- 
 man ; but this vision of a fine lady from the court of the 
 " roi soleil " was a revelation. Until this moment, the girl 
 had hardly known what grace and beauty meant. 
 
 " Come and let me hug you, my dearest Puritan," cried 
 Hyacinth, holding out her arms. "AVliy do you suffer 
 your custodians to clothe you in that odious gray, which 
 puts me in mind of lank-haired, psalm-singing scum, and 
 all their hateful works ? I would have you sparkling in 
 white satin and silver, or blushing in brocade powdered 
 with forget-me-uots and rosebuds, What would Fareham 
 
Within Convent Walls. 29 
 
 tell you there shall be always an honored place in our home 
 
 Zr^ \^' Z^''^'^-^ - ^--e> in Ln or couitr^ 
 And why should you not fill that place at once, sister v 
 Your education is finished, and to be sure you must be 
 tired of these stone walls and this sleepy town 
 
 - No, Hyacinth, I love the convent and the friends who 
 have made It my home. You and Lord Fareham are very 
 kind, but I could not leave our reverend mother ; she is 
 not so well or so strong as she used to be, and I think she 
 
 down .' r T ""vlf ' ^'''' ^'^'""^^' ^^^°"g^^ «^^« ^oves us all, 
 down to the humblest of the lay-sisters, I am of her kin 
 and seem nearest to her. I don't want to forsake her; 
 and f It was not against my father's wish I should like to end 
 my^days in this house, and to give my thoughts to God.- 
 
 ihat IS because thou knowest naught of the world 
 outside sweetheart," protested Hyacinth. "I admire 
 he readiness with which folks will renounce a banqu I 
 theyhave never tasted. A single day at the Louvre or\he 
 forever/ '^ "^"''^" ^'''' inclinations at once and 
 
 _" She is too young for a court life, or a town life either - 
 said Sir John "And I have no mind to remove her from 
 this safe shelter till the king shall be firm upon his throng 
 and our poor country shall have settled into a stable and 
 peaceable condition. But there must be no vows, Angela 
 no renunciation of kindred and home. I look to thee for 
 the comfort of my old age ! " 
 
 "Dear father, I will never disobey you. I shall re 
 member always that my first duty is to you; and when' 
 you want me, you have but to summon me ; and whether 
 you are at home or abroad, in wealth and honor, or in 
 exile and poverty, I will go to you, and be glad and happy 
 to be your daughter and your servant. ^ 
 
30 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 " I knew thou wouldst, dearest, I have never forgotten 
 how the soft little arms clung about my neck, and how the 
 baby-lips kissed me in this same parlor, when my heart was 
 weighed down by a load of iron, and there seemed no ray 
 of hope for England or me. You were my comforter 
 then, and you will be my comforter in the days to come. 
 Hyacinth here is of the butterfly breed. She is fair to 
 look upon, and tender and loving ; but she is ever on the 
 wing. And she has her husband and her children to 
 cherish, and cannot be burdened with the care of a broken- 
 down graybeard." 
 
 ** Broken down ! Why, you are as brave a gallant as 
 the youngest Cavalier in the king's service,'' cried Hya- 
 cinth. "I would pit my father against Montagu or Buck- 
 ingham, Buckhurst or Roscommon — against the gayest, 
 the boldest of them all, on land or sea. Broken down, 
 forsooth ! We will hear no such words from you, sir, for 
 a score of years. And now you will want all your wits to 
 take your proper place at court as sage counselor and 
 friend of the new king. Sure he will need all his father's 
 friends about him to teach him statecraft — he who has led 
 such a gay, good-for-nothing life as a penniless rover, with 
 scarce a sound coat to his back." 
 
 ** Nay, Hyacinth, the king will have no need of us old 
 Malignants. We have had our day. He has shrewd Ned 
 Hyde for counselor, and in that one long head there is 
 craft enough to govern a kingdom. The new court will 
 be a young court, and the fashion of it will be new. We 
 old fellows, who were gallant and gay enough in the forties, 
 when we fought against Essex and his tawny scarves, 
 would be but laughable figures at the court of a young 
 man bred half in Paris and steeped in French fashions and 
 French follies. No, Hyacinth, it is for you and your 
 husband the new day dawna. If I get back to my old 
 meads and woods and the house where I was born, I 
 
Within Convent Walls. ,, 
 
 cattle breeding and a pack of harriers for the diversion of 
 my doohnmgyears. And when my Angela ean malfe [, he. 
 mmd to leave her good aunt she shall keep honse for mo " 
 If ,./°^°°'''i°''"° be yonr housekeeper, dearest father. 
 
 strength, I will go to yon with a heart full of joy," said the 
 g.rl, h-.ngmg caressingly upon the old Cavalier^ shoulder 
 Hyaemth flitted about the room with a swift bWHko 
 mo ion, looking at the sacred images and prints h 
 lablean over the mantelpiece which told, with much 
 flourish of penmanship, the progress of the ;o„ventp"p Is 
 in learning and domestic virtues. 
 
 " What a humdrum, dismal room ! " she cried. " You 
 should see our convent parlors in Paris. At the CarmeT 
 ^es in the Rue Saint Jacques, " par exemple," the oTen. 
 mother's favorite convent, and at Chaihot the ZZ 
 founded by Queen Henrietta-such picture , and orna! 
 me„^, and embroidered hangings, and tapestries worked 
 
 pIuT I r""°\ '*'':* '""'' »' g"--"'' ■'"d cabbage 
 i'angh, I know not which is worse ' " 
 
 Having thus delivered herself of her disgust, she darted 
 upon her younger sister, laid her hands on ti the g 's 
 shouUors and contemplated her with moek seriousness. 
 
 What a precocious young saint thou art with „o more 
 nterest in the world outside this naked parior, tlZa 
 thou wert yonder image of the Holy Mother. Zt a 
 question of my husband, or my children, or of the last 
 fashion m hood and mantle, or of the new laced gloVes or 
 the French king's latest divinity." 
 
 "I should like, dear, to see yonr children, Hyacinth » 
 answered her sister. jawiuin, 
 
 " Ah ! they are the most enchanting creatures, the girl 
 a perpetual sunbeam, ethereal, elfish, a ereatu; of We 
 
32 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 !• i 
 
 and movement, and with a loquacity that never tires ; the 
 boy a lump of honey, fat, sleek, lazily beautiful. I am 
 never tired of admiring thorn, when I have time to see them. 
 Papillon— an old friend of mine, haseurnamed herPapillon 
 because she is never still— was five years old on the 19tli 
 of March. We were at Saint Germain on her birthday. 
 You should have seen the toys and trinkets and sweet- 
 meats which the court showered upon her— the king and 
 queen, monsieur, mademoiselle, the prinjcss Henrietta, 
 her godmother— everybody had a gift for the daughter of 
 La folle Baronno Fareham. Yes, they are lovely creatures, 
 Angela ; and I am miserable to think that it may bo half 
 a year before I see their sweet faces again," 
 "Why so long, sister ?" 
 
 " Because they are at the Chateau Montrond, my grand- 
 mother's place near Dieppe, and because Fareham and I 
 are going hence to Breda to meet the king, our own King 
 Charles, and help lead him home in triumph. In London 
 the mob are shouting, roaring, singing for their king ; and 
 Montagu's fleet lies in the Downs waiting but the signal 
 from Parliament to cross to Holland. He who left his 
 country in a scurvy fishing-boat will go back to England 
 in a mighty man-of-war, the Naseby— mark you, the 
 Naseby— christened by that usurper, in insolent remem- 
 brance of a rebel victory ; but Charles will doubtless change 
 that hated name. He must not be put in mind of a fight 
 where rebels had the better of loyal gentlemen. He will 
 sail home over those dancing seas with a fleet of great 
 white-winged ships circling round him like a flight of 
 silvery doves. Oh, what a turn of fortune's wheel ! I am 
 wild with rapture at the thought of it ! " 
 
 '•You love England better than France, though you 
 must be almost a stranger there," said Angela, wonderingly 
 looking at a miniature which her sister wore in a bracelet 
 that clasped a plump wrist. 
 
 thouy] 
 
 >Suint 
 
 daugiil 
 
 was clc 
 
 Whitel 
 
 full COI 
 
 ancient 
 
 I you, hif 
 
 in the : 
 
 fought j 
 
 now the 
 
 — an ear 
 
 should 1] 
 
 "And 
 
 you are i 
 
 templatii 
 
 Wliat a s 
 
 "Misc] 
 
 west wint 
 
 "And; 
 
 on tlie f£ 
 
 mutinous 
 
 pointed cl 
 
 too.?" 
 
 "Not hi 
 
 betwixt bu 
 
 g^yb, pui: 
 
 corsage. ' 
 
 fortificatioi 
 
 have gloate 
 
 look now a< 
 
 kitten resen 
 
 She han( 
 
 diamonds ai 
 
 3 
 
Within Convent Walls. 
 
 'my, love, ^tis in I>.nl« r . ^^ 
 
 tl'ot.gh thoy uro ever so if """, ^" "^^'^'"ificant alien, 
 
 ^aughte.-the wifot^Ti' : ;;;;!v^ ''''^^""^^'^ ^-"^- 
 
 was cleverer at winnin-^bri , ,' ?"''' ^^'""^'"^"» ^^^0 
 Whitehall I «hall ho Ldv F ^' """'^'""'"^^ '^^''"•^'^- Afc 
 full eon.e,uence a. tll^tif '"'r;/";^' f^^^^' -i")' -y 
 ancient lineage and fine clfo 7 r^"'' "ohlenian of 
 
 you, iHslonlsiiip'sp.onertvsu'nw 1 !'' T ^'""^'^'y *° <^^'" 
 - the rehellio.^ ^..1^.:^^^;^^^'--""^ people's 
 
 fought for the good causJ w 'ho • '?' ^''^ ''^^''^ ^^^ 
 now the .00,1 cSuse is t hn L^f ' h'" "''^ '' '^'' «"» 
 -an earrs coronet instea 1 o )^^ ^v^^t^additions, perhaps 
 
 And vou will «r.,wi -e -^^"-"iietta. 
 
 west wind," said sjj j„i,'„ '"•*' "l'"-^"i'I and sweet as tho 
 
 »«tino„3 eyes, the b^;,, L'"""^"; ''^' «" "' tl.o 
 P°.uted chin, and dim,,l„dc,.;„r- .< n''''^" ''"i'' ''"'"'y- 
 
 betwixt b!,ciram amrpTan'lVf I'l'T" '"''"''' """"-'''ere 
 gayly, pnlling a locket fr m at dlt T/'^'T' "^■"'='""'' 
 eorsage. « I call it next mv T, 'i''"'"'"'' »' ''«■ 
 
 fortification of whalebone ,2eT' ' ^"* *^"'"' '' " ^'ont 
 have gloated enon<rh o^tl ., if ''''"'' P''^''"'''- Yon 
 
 look now at the faU c, \ t^™f' " ' ^pertinent visage! 
 
 iitten resembles a tige; " " '"" '■''^™>"<'^ "' "ttle, a^a 
 Sho handed her sisterin, p,.,, . , , , 
 
 d-amonds „d held by a slender I, dt'lt,.^""'"?'! '"«> 
 
 Indian chain ; and Angela 
 

 ^^,.1 
 
 34 
 
 Vv'iicn The World Was Younger. 
 
 Biiw tlio fiuo of tlio l)rotlK'r-iii-liiw, wliose kindness and 
 hos[)it;ility hud Ijoon so freely proMiisod to her. 
 
 Who explored the eounteniinco Ion;; and earnestly. 
 
 " Well, do you think I chcsehimfor jiisheaiity ?" asked 
 Hyacinth. "You Imve devoured every lineament with 
 thiit serious ^'iizo of yours, as if you were tryin,--' to read 
 the spirit hehind that nuisk of ih-rih. Do you think him 
 handsome ?" 
 
 Angela faltered ; Init v/as unskilled in flattery and could 
 not reply with a compliment. 
 
 « No, sister ; surely none have over called this countc- 
 nanco handsome ; but it is a face to sot one thinking." 
 
 "Ay, child, and he.Avho owns the face is a man to set 
 one thinking. lie has made me think many a time when 
 I Avould .lave traveled a day's journey to escape the thoughts 
 he forced upon me. IIo was not made to bask in the sun- 
 shine of life. IIo is a stormy petrel. It was for his ugli- 
 ness I chose him. Those dark stern features, that im- 
 perious mouth, and a brow like the 01ympi;in Jove. IIo 
 scared me into loving him. I sheltered myself upon his 
 breast from the thunder of his brow, the lightning of his 
 eye." 
 
 " He has a look of his cousin Wentworth," said Sir 
 John. " I never see him, but I think of that murdered 
 man— my father's friend and mine— whom I have never 
 ceased to mourn.'' 
 
 " Yet their kin is of the most distant/' said Hyacinth. 
 " It is straiige that there should be any likeness." 
 
 "Faeos ai»poar and reap!)e:ir in families," answered her 
 father. " You may observe that curiously recurriuf like- 
 ness hi any picture gallery, if the family portraits cover a 
 century or two. Louis has little in common with his 
 grandfather ; but tAvo hundred years hence there may be a 
 prince of the royal house whose every feature shall recall 
 Henry tlio Great." 
 
VVithin Convent Walls. ,5 
 
 The portrait wra rotiinicl to its Iii.linR.placo nndor poi- 
 f mad la™ ,„„ col.wol, l,nv„, and tlu, ,lve,-c.u.I mofl r 
 ontomi t,o parlor, r.ady tor c„„v,.r«uio„, an.l oa-ror to 
 h ar tho ,.t„,,. of tho last six ,vcoks, of tl,o oolla « oi 
 that n„l,l,ir.v *.-.n><'tisn.. -.vliieh l,..d (a.i,v„Ist.dr:„.ri.,, ,ia, 1 
 -lonnnatod Karooc. and whi.h was n.olting nto C '^ 
 ghosts d,ssoivc at oocl<-oro,v. Of tho socrot „ g to C^ 
 botwoco Monk and C;,v„villo, now known to ov^o td 
 of the kn.g's snvomas amnost,- and promiso of nnivomi 
 pardon save for some score or so of conspionons v I i 
 
 W.0 was tnl of ,p,c.stioninK ; an.l, above all, oa.ror to 
 know whether it was trno that King Charles wa a heart 
 as stoneh a papist as his brother tl,e l.nkerYol w a 
 bohevcd to be, though even the Dake laeked hoe rl' 
 to bear witness to the true faith. i-oura„o 
 
 Two lay sisters I>,-„„Kl,t in a repast of cakes and svrnns 
 
 ladies of the convent were especially skilled in preoirin.' 
 and which they deemed all-sufflcicnt for theonti . : S 
 of oomp.,„y ; even when one of their mcsts w»s a n,"!,! 
 -Idler like Sir .Tohii Kirklaiid, When t ^^ li^i; coSt 
 had been tasted and praised, the coach came to th door 
 ngaiii, and swallowed np the beautiful ladv a id the rod 
 aavalier, who vanished from Angela's sight in a cloud of 
 dnst, waving hands from the eoaoh window. 
 
 •i 
 
36 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 LETTEES FROM HOME. 
 
 The quiet days went by, and grew into years, and time 
 was only marked by the gradual failure of the reverend 
 mother's health ; so gradual, so gentle a decay, that it was 
 only when looking back on St. Sylvester's Eve that her 
 great-niece became aware how much of strength and ac- 
 tivity had been lost since the Superior last knelt in her 
 place near the altar, listening to the solemn music of the 
 midnight mass, which sanctified the passing of the year. 
 This year the reverend mother was led to her seat between 
 two nuns, who sustained her feeble limbs. This year the 
 meek knees, which had worn the marble floor in long 
 hours of prayer during eighty pious years, could no lon- 
 ger bend. The meek head was bowed, the bloodless hands 
 were lifted up in supplication, but the fingers were wasted 
 and stiffened, and there was pain in every movement of 
 the joints. 
 
 _ There was no actual malady, only the slow death in 
 life called old age. All the patient needed was rebt and ten- 
 der nursing. This last her great-niece supplied, together 
 with the gentlest companionship. No highly-trained 
 nurse, the product of modern science, could have been more 
 efficient than the instinct of affection had made Angela. 
 And then the patient's temper was so amiable, her mind, 
 undimmed after eighty-three years of life, was a mirror 
 of God. She thought of her fellow-creatures with a divine 
 charity ; she worshiped her Creator witli an implicit faith. 
 For her in many a waking vision the heavens opened and 
 
Letters From Home 
 
 tered tho „ a't'l! f.rf ^P-"^' ^^^ had en- 
 had taken tho ™l at aovoll tZ™ ."'Z^^' ""^ 
 » groat heiress, whoso only oMd a ,„!,"'""' "''"■'<"' 
 to absorb all tho smnll ZT .' ''''"S''*«i» Me allowed 
 there was no moTo ,, f "! P"'""'' '"f^<=«'>°; "nd 
 cloister. AU she kt, .'?",' A'"'^t="'i-'« desire lor the 
 
 was from heirsay ^ ar^o v !: 7"'', °?'""^ '"o- ™«^ 
 the Marqnise dl Mottrond ' , "* ''^ V""^ '""'-^i^"^--' 
 sight of I distingnSlTpa; ira"^^^^^ ""» 
 
 »g. She had never read a sccX book S l ^ ™''"- 
 meaning of the word «I„. '^he knew not the 
 
 ments permitted to thir"' T," "'" "■«" ""u^e. 
 always till thoyToft tho . ?"' "''"'I™-" children " 
 evening of a Ta ^tw v 71 ."^ ^T"« """"-^ *o 
 and weiing ar™ I li L etiSl^dL"' T*^^'"*^ 
 moident in the lives of tho s- '^T' t'";"'? "'S »»»« 
 
 eightv years of nl,„,i: , *" ''"' ''ad 1 ved her 
 
 a/d L'eZg sor'it "L"'"^'™' '"'""''■"==' J^™™8 
 thronghthe ™ ;"|,™4f!T'^ ?'"' '""^ "™« 
 0* Wallonstein, thf omd ie!S wt Tdl'^ "'""^ 
 o.al mnrder of Egn.ont and Horn X Ld Wd ft 
 lages burnt, population <? ,.n+ + ^u ^^^^ ^^ v^^- 
 
 children killeVby ^0". % '"'/-^l. women and 
 
 thosewhoremembi^SrLoigne. 3 rharr":f "* 
 weeping for Edward Campion's erne .f , ', "'" '""'' 
 masses sung for the ,o,d „f T ,"'"' '''" had heard 
 had heard of Ha irr V ''f"" *'•■"> «'""'• She 
 
 setting his pris™';.; cheT;:: ttrdr's' ■*"?'«""' 
 
 afternoon of life, to encouX b Z v mont'T, ' "J "" 
 Sicken ng failuro -mrl f. , i i "^^Ccuement, treacliery, 
 
 e.iateLdr:;:i;-ir^trt!:rxfr;t 
 
ii! 
 
 M 
 
 m 
 
 38 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 And through all tho changes and chances of that troublous 
 century she had lived apart, full of pity and wonder, in a 
 charmed circle of piety and love. 
 
 Her room, in these peaceful stages of the closing scene, 
 was a haven of rest. Angela loved the seclusion of tlio 
 paneled chamber, with its heavily mullioned casement 
 facing the sonthwest, and the polished oak floor, on which 
 the red and gold of the sunset were mirrored, as on the 
 dark stillness of a moorland tarn. For her every object 
 in tho room had its interest or its charm. The associa- 
 tions of childhood enfolded thorn all. The large, ivory 
 crucifix, yellow with age, dim witli the kisses of adoring 
 lips ; the Delf statuettes of Mary and Joseph, flaming with 
 gaudy color ; the figures of the Saviour and St. John the 
 Baptist, delicately carved out of boxwood, in a group rep- 
 resenting the baptism in the river Jordan, the holy dove 
 trembling on a wire over the divine head ; the books, the 
 pictures, the rosaries. At all these she had gazed rever- 
 ently when all things were new, and the convent passages 
 places of shuddering, and the service of the mass an unin- 
 telligible mystery. She had grown up within those solemn 
 walls ; and now, seeing her kinswoman's life gently ebbing 
 away, she could but wonder what she would have to do in 
 this world when another took the Superior's place, and 
 the tie that bound her to Louvain would be broken. 
 
 Tlie lady who would in all probability succeed Mother 
 Anastasia as Superior was a clever, domineering woman, 
 whom Angela loved least of all the nuns— a widow of good 
 birth and fortune, and a thorough Fleming ; stolid, big- 
 oted, prejudiced, and taking much credit to herself for the 
 wealth she had brought to the convent, apt to talk of the 
 class-room and the chapel her money had helped to build 
 and restore as "my class-room," or "my chapel." 
 
 No ; Angela had no desire to remain in the convent 
 when the dear kinswoman should have vauishod from the 
 
troublous 
 ider, in a 
 
 ag scene, 
 n of the 
 casement 
 3n which 
 s on the 
 ry object 
 
 associa- 
 te, ivory 
 
 adoring 
 ing with 
 Fohn the 
 )up rep- 
 oly dove 
 loks, the 
 id rever- 
 passages 
 m unin- 
 3 solemn 
 f ebbing 
 ;o do in 
 ice, and 
 1. 
 
 Mother 
 woman, 
 of good 
 id, big- 
 ': for the 
 : of the 
 build 
 
 3onvent 
 •om the 
 
 Letters From Home. 
 
 scene her presence sanctified Thoi 
 
 with sorrowful memor es If ? nT' ""^"^^ ^° ^^^"^*^d 
 
 claim that home which L f I l ^' ^"^^ ^^^ ^'^' to 
 with her in hlold at s '''^'[ ^""^ ^^^^^^ «f sharing 
 
 the house in whid.X' was LT h^"^^ 'f^ ™-^- 
 the thick walls of vew 7ho ^''""-"'^ "^^'^^t, the fish-pond, 
 
 of which the ;:^/en:; w o'rpt T '"^^ ^"^ '''''^^> 
 Faintly, faintly the pictr^e of T n''"" ''"' '" P^^''^' 
 her ; built of gray stm'e a^, 1 .^ ^'°"'' ^''^"^^ ^^ck to 
 
 substantial, occ ^y^g t^^ "^"^ "^^^^' -™^ -d 
 
 of many windowf ow of iS' ' ^^^'^'^8^-' - house 
 house of dark pisJes 1 kp , "'' '''''''^''^ '^ '^en, a 
 
 flights of shallow sTopT\ndour V'' ^°"^^^*' '^^ 
 here and there T W ' ? i "''f *""^^ '-^"^ twistings 
 
 spreading tailed 'si k^l'sl^ itj^'^^^--^^ thetr 
 terraces, as well as tl,n«« . T .. ^t'^teliness on the turf 
 
 house 4 ir«;rX' "fc ^ r' ";'°/^°" "'^ 
 
 sheltered by hills and eopie ,vWe ,' " ™"'"^ """ 
 dance of game. Anwl-, 1 n j ! ? '""■" ""''^ "n abun- 
 
 ferences trL tCJI^^^'^^ ^f^"^^" ?""' some d 
 smaller to her. doubtless, rhold^: 'Ha t?"" """ 
 womanhood, than childish n,emorymldo"f R Vfr' 
 there with her father to w„-f , ■ *"' '° ''^e 
 
 have Hyacinth's e dre° he e nl" "■""'' """* '""■' '» 
 -h.p.ayed,.o„ldbeXS^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 her sister, who was a vivn^r i ?. ^'''* '" ^^tters from 
 
 herself upon ^ :^:^^'^''^-'rV'''Vria^ 
 general superiority fv^n/a K Af '^''^ ^P"" ^^^^ 
 
 women of her day. " '^'^ standpoint, to the 
 
1 h > 
 
 40 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 It was a pleasure to Lady Fareham in some rare interval 
 of solitude— when the weather, was too severe for her to 
 venture outside the hall door, even in her comfortable 
 coach, and when by some curious concatenation she 
 happened to be without visitors— to open her portfolio and 
 prattle with her pen to her sister, as she would have prattled 
 with her tongue to the visitors whom snow or tempest kept 
 away. Her letters written from London were apt to be 
 rare and brief, Angela noted ; but from his lordship's 
 mansion near Oxford, or at the Grange between Fareham 
 and Winchester— once the property of the brothers of St 
 Cross— she always sent a budget. Few of these lengthy 
 epistles contained anything bearing upon Angela's own 
 existence— except the oft-repeated entreaty that she would 
 make haste and join them— or even the flippant suggestion 
 that Mother Anastasia should make haste and die. They 
 were of the nature of news-letters ; but the news was 
 tinctured by the very feminine medium through which it 
 came, and there was a flavor of egotism in almost every 
 page. Lady Fareham wrote as only a very pretty woman, 
 courted, flattered, and indulged by everybody about her,' 
 ever since she could remember, could be forgiven for 
 writing. People had petted her and worshiped her with 
 such uniform subservience, that she had grown to thirty 
 years of age without knowing that she was selfish, accepting 
 homage and submission as a law of the universe, as kings 
 and princes do. 
 
 Only in one of those letters was there that which might 
 be called a momentous fact, but which Angela took as 
 easily as if it had been a mere detail, to be dismissed from 
 her thoughts when the letter had been laid aside. 
 
 It was a letter with a black seal, announcing the death 
 of the Marquise de Montrond, who had expired of an 
 apoplexy at her house in the Marais, after a supper party 
 at which madomoisclle, Madame de Longueviile, Madame 
 
 de Mo 
 Evrem 
 half a 
 supper 
 with aj 
 were b 
 and th( 
 coch^re 
 
 "It 
 wrote 1 
 first Su 
 the Chi 
 would h 
 weaknes 
 have to 
 I hope ij 
 you will 
 courted 
 sister's d 
 I was w 
 when Fj 
 passional 
 that she 
 she had 
 young w 
 always m 
 last, and 
 left her. 
 she rivalc 
 late kino 
 the most 
 passion as 
 sylph. I 
 better foi 
 her jewelE 
 
Letters From Home. 41 
 
 de Montansier, the Duchesse de Bouillon, Lauzrin, St. 
 ]ivror„oncI, cheery little Godeau, Bishop of Vence/and 
 half a dozen other famous wits, had been present, a 
 suiter bristling with royal personages. Death had come 
 with appalling suddenness while the lamps of the festival 
 
 Z\^7r?' "'•'^ *^l '^'^^ ""''' ^^^" "P°^ *J- tables, 
 coch6i^ ''^™^'' ^""^ ■'"'^ '°"'^ ""'^'' ^^'^ P°^<^« 
 
 "It is the manner of death she would have chosen," 
 wi-ote Hyacinth. "She never missed confession on the 
 first Sunday of the month ; and she was so generous to 
 the Church and to the poor that her director declared she 
 would have been too saintly for earth but for the human 
 weakness of liking fine company. And now, dearest, I 
 have to tell you how she has disposed of her fortune ; and 
 
 votTn r !^ *'"'^ '^'' ^'''^ "°^ "^-^^^ y^^ generously, 
 you will do me the justice to believe that I have neithe 
 courted her for her wealth nor influenced her to my dear 
 sister s disadvantage. You will consider, tres ch^re, that 
 I was with her from my eighth year until the other day 
 when Fareham brought me to England. She loved me 
 passionately m my childhood, and has often told mo since 
 that she never felt towards me as a grandmother, but as if 
 she had been actually my mother, h^^ng indeed still a 
 young woman when she adopted me, and by strangers 
 always mistaken for my mother. She was handsome to the 
 ast, and young m mind and in habits longafter youth had 
 left her I was said to be the image of what she was when 
 she rivaled Madame de Chevreuse in the affections of the 
 late king. You must consider, sweetheart, that he was 
 the most moral of men, and that with him love meant a 
 passion as free from sensual taint as the preferences of a 
 sylph. I think my good grandmother loved me all the 
 better for this fancied resemblance. She would arraaige 
 her jewels about my hair and bosom, as she had worn them 
 
42 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 when Buckingham came wooing for his master ; and then 
 she would bid her page hold a mirror before me and tell me 
 to look at the face of which Queen Anne had been jealous, 
 and for which Cinq Mars had run mad. And then she 
 would shed a tear or two over the years and the charms 
 that were gone, till I brought the cards and cheered her 
 spirits with her favorite game of Primero. 
 ^ " She had her fits of temper and little tantrums some- 
 times, Ange, and it needed some itatience to restrain one's 
 tongue from insolence ; but I am happy to remember that 
 I ever bore her in profound respect, and that I never made 
 her seriously angry but once— which was when I, being 
 then almost a child, went out into the streets of Paris with 
 Henri de Malfort and a wild party, masked, to hear 
 Beaufort address the populace in the market place, and 
 when I was so unlucky as to lose the emerald cross given 
 her by the great cardinal, for whom I believe she had 
 a sneaking kindness. Why else should she have so 
 hated his eminence's very particular friend, Madame de 
 Combalet ? 
 
 " But to return to that which concerns my dear sister. 
 Eegarding me as her own daughter, the Marquise has 
 lavished her bounties upon me almost to the exclusion of 
 my own sweet Angela. In a word, dearest, she leaves you 
 a modest income of four hundred louis— or about three 
 hundred pounds sterling— the rental of two farms in Nor- 
 mandy ; and all the rest of her fortune she bequeaths to 
 me, and Papillon after me, including her house in the 
 Marais— sadly out of fashion now that everybody of 
 consequence is moving to the Place Royale— and her 
 chateau near Dieppe, besides all her jewels, many of which 
 I have had in my possession ever since my marriage. My 
 sweet sister shall take her choice of a carcanet among 
 those old-fashioned trinkets. And now, dearest, if jou are 
 left with a pittance that will but serve to pay for your 
 
and then 
 id tell me 
 n jealous, 
 then she 
 e charms 
 eered her 
 
 ms some- 
 •ain one's 
 iber that 
 ver made 
 
 I, being 
 Wis with 
 
 to hear 
 lace, and 
 •ss given 
 she had 
 
 have so 
 dame de 
 
 ir sister. 
 uise has 
 lusion of 
 aves you 
 ut three 
 in Nor- 
 :eaths to 
 3 in the 
 )ody of 
 ind her 
 )f which 
 
 re. 
 
 My 
 
 among 
 
 you are 
 
 for your 
 
 Letters From Home. -, 
 
 gloves and fans at the Middle ^.change, and perhaps t„ 
 buy you an Indian night.go>™ in the c™rse of fte Z- 
 for your eourt petticoats and mantuas will eost three ttml 
 
 you" aX: r '"' '""'"'''"''" "■»' "^ purse" tob 
 S ;„ ,^ ' ^°™' ™'' "''" Fareham and Idohut 
 wait to weleome you either to Fareham House in the 
 Strand, or to Chilton Abbey, near Oxford The' r 
 near Fareham I never inteni'to reit'^tf I It be3 
 
 gflosts. If you love a river you will love our houses for the 
 
 for a somewhat superior gray stuff on Sundays a„d bolt 
 days-smJed at the notion of spending the rent of tw" 
 farm, upon her toilet. And kol much more ridiclw 
 seemed the assertion that to appear at King Char Ws "our 
 she must spend thrice as much Yet .L 1 ?r. 
 member that Hyacinth had described tlit a ^dt^^^^^^^^^ 
 so loaded with jeweled embroiderv that il^^. Pett'^ata 
 to wear them-laees worth hlt^d^o pordsirCol 
 hats that cost as much as a year's maintciLcet tSl oo„- 
 
 MalamcdfZlr'" v'^T"'^ considerable displeasure at 
 Madame de Montrond's disposal of her wealth. 
 
 lost in thai world of vatilytj selft' e:^'^:'^^';!' 
 
 warf^mmlTSlr " ^°" »'''"^ ■"»» yet, brauTe sh 
 was Umiliar with the one and not with the other-and he 
 cause her vain, foolish soul f„^i. i • """'^^™'' oe- 
 
 n, looiisu soul took pleasure in a beauty that 
 
I|i! 
 
 
 1 
 
 44 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 recalled her own perishable charms, she leaves one sister a 
 great fortune and the other a pittance ! " 
 
 " Dear aunt, I am more than content " 
 
 " But I am not content for you, Angela. Had the estate 
 been divided equally, you might have taken the veil, and 
 succeeded to my place in this beloved house, Avhich needs 
 the accession of wealth to maintain it in usefulness and 
 dignity." 
 
 Angela would not wound her aunt's feelings by one word 
 of disparagement of the house in which she had been 
 reared ; but, looking along the dim avenue of the future, 
 she yearned for some wider horizon than the sky, barred 
 with tall poplars, that rose high above the garden wall, 
 that formed the limit of her daily walks. Her rambles, 
 her recreations, had all been confined within that space 
 of seven or eight acres, and she thought sometimes with 
 a sudden longing of those hills and valleys of fertile 
 Buckinghamshire, which lay so far back in the dawn of 
 her mind, and were yet so distinctly pictured in her 
 memory. 
 
 And London — that wonderful city of which her sister 
 wrote in such glowing words ! the long range of palaces 
 beside the swift-flowing river, wider than the Seine where 
 it reflects the gloomy bulk of the Louvre and the Temple ! 
 Were it only once in her life, she would like to see London 
 — the King, the two Queens, Whitehall, and Somerset 
 House. She would like to see all the splendor and pomp 
 of court and city, and then to taste the placid retirement 
 of the house in the valley, and to be her father's house- 
 keeper and companion. 
 
 Another letter from Hyacinth announced the death of 
 Mazarin. 
 
 *' The cardinal is no more. He died in the day of suc- 
 cess, having got the better of all his enemies. A violent 
 access of gout was followed by an affection of the chest 
 
Letters From Home. .. 
 
 which proved fatal. His sick-room was crowded with 
 
 uajr ui ills a.ath. J^areham says his death hpri «,«„ 
 
 and Sh ru ^trLlfa "'"'' ''^ '''""S"'* ""^ '"'''i™. 
 Thn ^n,^^, ' *'"' 5'°™S ™° "l""!' tl'o court 
 
 last sae,a.e„t». M/Lr^clr ^ Lr^tt 1Z 
 spirits never recovered from the shook of hiSMnf * 
 restoration, which falsified all his oalculation tT ' tf 
 have made his favorite nieeo Queen rtitodb'tt 
 
 adi::trthat^™='*"^^^^^^^^ 
 
 marriag, with his niece Ol^o ElTw:ufd "L^r 
 ceived the shrewdest observer had we nnt 11 . 
 
 he ardently desired the Tnfon anltW f ''°''™ 'h"' 
 foQi. «# r\ » . ""'""^ ana that it was onlv hi<a 
 
 fear of Queen Anne's anger which prevented it tt 
 
 Teiige such an alliance. i«-event or to re- 
 
 "This was perhaps the only occasion upon which sh» 
 
 Leof th-o .;; z r'^re"ht.\srr.:stt° 
 
 great cardinaldied, ;e:X"crotrtS::'a:rer*^^^ 
 
 H^ It ;rr'°""' ™^ '"^ "- "' whi h he was hold 
 He left the king a nullity, and the queen all power „t 
 She was young and boautifnl then, you see • hJll ^ 
 wa» Marked for death; herson wasTinrnl'^llt^toe 
 
46 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 was hers — a kingdom of courtiers and flatterers. And now 
 she is old and ailing ; and Mazarin being gone, the young 
 king will submit to no minister who claims to be anything 
 better than a clerk or a secretary. Colbert he must tolerate 
 — for Colbert means prosperity — but Colbert will have to 
 obey. My friend, the Duchess of Longueville, who is now 
 living in strict retirement, writes me the moct exquisite 
 letters ; and from her I hear all that happens in that coun- 
 try, which I sometimes fancy is more my oy/n than the 
 duller climate where my lot is now cast. Fifteen years at 
 the French court have made me in heart and mind almost 
 a Frenchwoman ; nor can I fail to be influenced by my 
 maternal ancestry. I find it difficult sometimes to remem- 
 ber my English, when conversing with the clodiioppers of 
 Oxfordshire, who have no French, yet insist, for' finery's 
 sake, upon larding their rustic English with Frer.ch words 
 introduced *d tort ct a traverse.' 
 
 " All that is most agreeable in our court is imitated from 
 the Palais Eoyal and the Louvre. 
 
 " * Whitehall is but the shadow of a shadow," says Fare- 
 ham, in one of his philosophy fits, preaching upon the 
 changes he has seen in Paris and London. And, indeed, 
 it is a change to have lived through two revolutions, one 
 so awful in its final catastrophe that it dwarfs the other, 
 yet both terrible ; for I, who was a witness of the suffer- 
 ings of princes and princesses during the two wars of the 
 Fronde, am not inclined to think lightly of a civil war 
 which cost France some of the flower of her nobility, and 
 made her greatest hero a prisoner and an exile for seven 
 years of his life. 
 
 " But oh, my dear, it was a romantic time ! and I look 
 back and am proud to have lived in it. I was but twelve 
 years old at the siege of Paris ; but I was in Madame de 
 Longueville's room, at the Hotel de Ville, while the fight- 
 ing was going on, and the officers, in their steel cuirasses. 
 
Letters From Home. .- 
 
 coming in from the thick of the strifp ^unh . - 
 
 that, touched by the Lgn^Zt^ZLSZ^^r^ 
 convent walls ,v„uM fau down like tho o, jS/": 
 
 delicate refinement of the si^fpr'« ni....* ^''^^enis and 
 
 felicity to live among these princely peLn to rev., 
 
 Hap3, as our grandmother would Jiave told yon in its mlf 
 glono„spenud-b„t at least while it w,. stm the flT^I 
 
48 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 ,'i 
 
 ! i 
 
 M 
 
 all that is ehoi{;cat in letters and in urt. Did wo not hoar 
 M. Poquolin read his first comedy, before it was repre- 
 sented by Monsi«Hir's coin])any in the beautifid theater at 
 the Palais Royal, built by Kichelieu, Aviien it was tho 
 Palais Cardinal? Not road *Lo Grand Cyrus,' luul on 
 tho score of morality? Why, this deli<,ditful l)ook was 
 written by ono of tlio most moral women in Paris— ono 
 of tho chastest — against whoso reputation no word of 
 slander has ever been breathed ! It must indeed bo con- 
 fessed that Sappho is of an ugliness which would protect 
 her even wore she not guarded by the regis of genius. Sho 
 is one of those fortunate unfortunates, who can walk 
 through the furnace of a court unscathed, and leave u rep- 
 utation for modesty in a profligute age. 
 
 "I fear, dear child, that these narrow-minded restric- 
 tions of your convent will leave you of a surpassing igno- 
 rance, which may cover you Avith confusion when you find 
 yourself in fine company. There are accomplishments 
 without which youth is no more admired than age and gray 
 hairs ; and to sparkle Avith wit or astonish with learning is 
 a necessity for a Avoman of quality. It ia only by the 
 advantages of education that Ave can shoAv ourselves super- 
 ior to such a hussy as Albemarle's gutter-bred duchess, 
 • who was the faithless wife of a sailor or barber— I forget 
 which— and avIio hangs like a millstone upon tho general's 
 neck noAV that he hag climbed to the zenith. To have per- 
 fect Italian and some Spanish is as needful as to have fine 
 eyes and complexion nowadays. And to dance admirably 
 is a gift indispensable to a lady. Alas ! I fear that those 
 little feet of yours— I hope they are small— have never 
 been taught to move in a coranto or a contre-danse, and 
 that you Avill have to learn the alphabet of the Terpsicho- 
 rean art at an age when most Avomen are finished perform- 
 ers. The great Conde, Avhilo winning sieges and battles 
 that surpassed tho feats of Greeks and liomans, contrived 
 
 JIM. J 
 
Letters F.om Home. ^g 
 
 to make himself tho finoMf (]..nr.n,. . p i • i 
 admiration in luVh-b i ciMorh '^"^' ""'^ ^"" '""^^ 
 
 which every o f co 1 1 ^ V' ^'^''^"' movements, 
 
 only read of in tho ' Guletto "^ ' ^^^''^^^'^''^ which wo 
 
 icSrn:: ;«: ::::' '-^'^ r^^^^'--'« -^st senouB 
 
 wo read of in Gram,r„nt'= 1 tasto-snch jests as 
 
 at making m^T^l^TT' >""«'' 8«"'™"3' "imod 
 
 the sport^and vSi^r iS' "^1™ 't ::;? """"f 
 No sense of the fitness of +i,; '*'^^^/" d Jiourtless wife. 
 
 thiner whinli w.a ^,«^ • n . -^"^"011, as 01 some- 
 
 the edneated'^e^f ' "'""'' ™ "'""y^ »Pl«-™g to 
 
 expa>atcdon all; bnt «he had usually X? to t,T!'f a 
 country she had left than „, that in whicTst Jf ."'if; 
 
 „. ^r_-.e. • \vnitelmli covers a larcre aroq >.nf u • "" '1 
 » flue banqueting hall and a lahyrinlTloXinl'V'it 
 
50 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 <ni 
 
 out suite or stateliness. The pictures in the late king's 
 cabinet are said to be the finest in the world, but they are 
 a kind of pieces for which I care very little — Flemish and 
 Dutch chiefly — with a series of cartoons by Raffaelle, which 
 connoisseurs affect to admire, but which, did they belong 
 to me, I would gladly exchange for a set of Mortlake 
 tapestries. 
 
 " His majesty here builds ships, while the King of 
 France builds palaces. I am told Louis is spending millions 
 on the new palace at Versailles, an ungrateful site — no 
 water, no noble prospect as at Saint G ermain, no population. 
 The king likes the spot all the better, Mandane tells me, 
 because he has to create his own landscape, to conjure 
 lakes and cataracts out of dry ground. The buildings 
 have been but two years in progress, and it must be long 
 before these colossal foundations are crowned with the 
 edifice which the king and his architect, Massart, have 
 planned. Colbert is furious at this squandering of vast 
 sums on a provincial palace while the Louvre, the birthplace 
 and home of dynasties, remains unfinished. 
 
 **The king's reason for disliking Saint Germain — a 
 palace his mother has always loved — has in it something 
 of the childish and fantastic, if, as my dear duchess declares, 
 ho hates the place only because he can see the towers of 
 St. Denis from the terrace, and is thus hourly reminded 
 of death and the grave. I can hardly believe that a being 
 of such superior intelligence could be governed by any 
 such horror of man's inevitable end. I would far sooner 
 attribute the vast expenditure at Versailles to the common 
 love of monarchs and great men for building houses too 
 large for their necessities. Indeed, it was but yesterday 
 that Fareham took me to see the palace — for I can call it 
 by no meaner name— that Lord Clarendon is building 
 for himself in the open country at the top of St. James' 
 Street. It promises to be the finest house in town, and, 
 
Letters From Home. ^j 
 
 taZtZ"' '°™"f '' "^^^^^ ^^'^'-^ -^ Whitehall, is 
 judged far superior to that inchoate mass in if« I 
 
 gaJlenes. There m a garden a-making, proiected bv Mr 
 Evelyn, » great authority on trees and garde^ A crowd 
 
 hfamastfr 1/ prxvigged and dressed as fine as 
 
 "th f X ' '™ *r™" ■" *''« ""y'^''^'^ tho dinners 
 
 «wro?heart' ""fi '!V '" ™' "' "^ '"'^=* <'°»1™»'». 
 Bweetneart ,' l,s a boy_an actnal beardless 'my of ei..ht 
 
 een supers; but such a boy ! So beautiful, L^soknt 
 with an impudonoe that can confront Lord n.Vl T 
 hmself, the gravest of noblemen, wl™ witrthe T 
 
 generalnt:iertS— nt::^ 
 serious and august kino- tlnn T ri^ ^f + ^ 
 
 He laughs at them, jokes with them in Greek or in tZ" 
 has a ready answer and o ^yiff^ „,„•, . ^ '''^ "' ^^*'"> 
 
52 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 SI r 
 
 ■■li li ' '■ 
 
 ! 1 «i 
 
 and tells so often. Lucifer himself could not be more ar- 
 rogant or more audacious than this bewitching boy-lover 
 of mine, who writes verses in English or Latin as easy as I 
 can toss a shuttlecock. I doubt the greater number of his 
 verses are scarce proper reading for you or me, Angela ; 
 for I see the men gather round him in corners as he mur- 
 murs his latest madrigal to a chosen half-dozen or so ; and 
 I guess by their subdued tittering that the lines are not 
 over modest ; while by the sidelong glances the listeners 
 cast round, now at my Lady Castlemaine, and anon at 
 some other goddess in the royal pantheon, I have a shrewd 
 notion as to what alabaster breast my witty lover's shafts 
 are aimed at. 
 
 " This youthful devotee of mine is the son of a certain 
 Lord "Wilmot who fought on the late king's side in the 
 troubles. This creature went to the university of Oxford 
 at twelve years old — as it were straight from his go-cart to 
 college, and was master of arts at fourteen. He has made 
 the grand tour, and pretends to have seen so much of this 
 life that he has found out the worthlessness of it. Even 
 while he woos me with a most romantic ardor, he affects 
 to have outgrown the capacity to love. 
 
 "Think not, dearest, that I outstep the bounds of 
 matronly modesty by this airy philandering with my young 
 Lord Rochester, or that my serious Fareham is ever of- 
 fended at our pretty trifling. He laughs at the lad as 
 I do, invites him to our table, and is amused by his mon- 
 keyish tricks. A woman of quality must have followers ; 
 and a pert, fantastical boy is the safest of lovers. Slander 
 itself could scarce accuse Lady Fareham, at thirty years of 
 age, of an unworthy tenderness for a jackanapes of seven- 
 teen ; for, indeed, I believe his eighteenth birthday is still 
 in the womb of time. I would with all my heart thou wert 
 here to share our innocent diversions : and I know not 
 which of all my playthings thou wouldst esteem highest, 
 
 the fal 
 curls a 
 me not 
 truly V 
 The gi] 
 nearest 
 covered 
 is full 
 him. 
 
 "Oh, 
 
 wide th 
 
 sudden! 
 
 or at th( 
 
 the pret 
 
 leaning '. 
 
 thought 
 
 plays an 
 
 entertair 
 
 from the 
 
 a dance i 
 
 France n 
 
 of Engla 
 
 a new sul 
 
 House. 
 
 fifty, Chr 
 
 school-bo, 
 
 which haf 
 
 since he 1 
 
 "lam 
 
 who will ( 
 
 even more 
 
 ham, who 
 
 London. 
 
 court, if h 
 
 * It is not 
 
Letters From Home. 5, 
 
 curls'a„7;Mf- "".'"f^ '"""'*■ -""'l" "P "i »« silken 
 curls and mtelligent brown eyes, or Enchester W.„ ul 
 
 me not forget the ehiWron, p';.pil,o„ nd !!«;, who' re 
 
 ThtrV't' oreatnreMho„,h eonsummat ^la^nor 
 The girl, Papillon, has a tongue which Wilmot says is the 
 
 isMI of ,! ^, , ^^'7''° ™' ■"'* »<=™n last birthday 
 js Ml of misehief, m which myadmirer eounseh and abeS 
 
 "Oh, this London, sweetheart, anci this court I How 
 wide those yolet eve, would open oouldst thou but fook 
 suddenly m upon . .., er supper at Basset, or in the park 
 tip etllT'" •'%:'"" "« --«^S'* - ™oHng 
 
 leaZS o r/i; .' "'!' ""' "^ ^^"^ Castlemaine il 
 leamng half out of her box to talk to the Kinff in his I 
 
 pt?and eSurtr;™"*?'"' ''^"™'^ ""^ <iLosX' 
 plays and courtly diyersions beyond sea ; but the court 
 
 entertainments at Paris or Saint Germain differed ^ much 
 from thefestiyities of Whitehall as a cathedral oryfceTom 
 a dance m a booth at Bartholomew Fair. His ZTe^Z 
 France never forgets that that he is a king. Hk Ma est' 
 of England only remembers his kingshiplhen he wanta 
 a new subsidy, or to get a Bill hurried through the Lowe 
 House T^„,s at four-and-twenty was serious enough for 
 
 sclwol boy. He is royal m nothing except his extravagance 
 which ha. squandered more millions than I dare Son 
 since he landed at Dover. mention 
 
 "lam growing almost as sober as my solemn spouse 
 who wdl ever be railing at the king and the duSInd 
 even more bitterly at the favorite, his Grac , Buciing 
 ham who IS assuredly one of the most agreeable men fn 
 
 ctrt°if hi t-'^r"^'"" ""'•'^ ^-'-*'^'>'yt went : 
 
 at is'nL t^ 7' • """f "^' "' *''"" '^^t^t-tul to him. 
 
 It IS not to his company I object, but to his principles,' 
 
I 'r 
 
 a ;ii 
 
 54 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 he answered, in that earnest fashion of his which takes the 
 lightest questions aux grand serieux. ' I see in him a man 
 who, with natural parts far above the average, makes him- 
 self the jest of meaner intellects, and the dupe of greedy 
 courtesans ; a man who, trained in the stern school of adver- 
 sity, overshadowed by the great horror of his father's tragi- 
 cal doom accepts life as one long jest, and being, by a con- 
 catenation of circumstances bordering on the miraculous, 
 restored to all the privileges of hereditary monarchy, takes 
 all possible pt.ius to prove the uselessness of kings. I see 
 a man who, borne back to power by the irresistible current 
 of the people's affections, has broken every pledge he gave 
 that people in the flush and triumph of his return. I see 
 one who, in his own person, cares neither for Paul nor Peter, 
 and yet can tamely consent to persecution of whole masses 
 of his people because they do not conform to a State re- 
 ligion—can allow good and pious men to be driven out of 
 the pulpits where they have preached the Gospel of Christ, 
 and suffer wives and children to starve because the head 
 of the household has a conscience. I see a king careless 
 of theweli'are of his people, and the honor and glory of his 
 reign ; affecting to be a patriot, and a man of business, on 
 the strength of an extravagant fancy for shipbuilding; 
 careless of everything save the empty pleasure of an idij 
 hour. A king who lavishes thousands upon wantons and 
 profligates, and who ever gives not to the most worthy, but 
 to the most importunate. '' 
 
 '' I laughed at this tirade, and told him, what indeed I 
 
 believe, that he is at heart a Puritan, and would better 
 
 consort with Baxter and Bunyan, and that frousy crew, 
 
 • than with Buckhurst and Sedley, or his brilliant kinsman' 
 
 Roscommon. '' ' 
 
 From her father directly, Angela heard nothing, and 
 her sister's allusions to him were of Iho briefest, anxiously 
 
 as she 
 father 
 the JVIa 
 "II 
 our wii 
 nie, in 
 he aims 
 believe 
 heart; ; 
 be as b 
 cushion- 
 hack roc 
 as if he : 
 Seven SI 
 with SOD 
 Turennej 
 of them, 
 niirth sin 
 are too st: 
 mind is i 
 court suit 
 iceep then 
 This lig 
 wounded u 
 ened a yea: 
 hsr father 
 was walkin 
 tion, tastin 
 colored tul 
 espalier rov 
 puted to be 
 within fifty 
 and & wall c 
 above the sc 
 Turning i 
 
Letters Prom Home 
 
 <»>■• wife," she wrote, "h,,";" P^'ed company with 
 »>e, in a sidelong way. upon ^v t^ ""l '"" ■>■" *» lecture 
 he aims at the compa ' Tk " wf ^ ' ^ *''* 'eprohation 
 Wievo those oM courtfer' of le T ^^ ''"l'"eation. I 
 heart; and that if Arehb shofi .' ^'"« ""' ^""'">« «* 
 he as bitter against the n ^^ ^J' '^-e h= would 
 eushion-thumping Anabant^* f^ ? " ^ ^^ »' 'he 
 hack rooms and HindTllI mI f r^"* *" "'" «"eot in 
 a« if he had spent all ZlL, ! ^' *""^^ '"'i thinks 
 Seven Sleeper! And^trfolM sh" u" """ °' *<>« 
 with some ol the flnr.=f .! .. * "houlder to shoulder 
 Turenne, GranJ^tf s 'Cmrri" ^^-"-Condl 
 0' them. Bnt all the world k™' ""'^' ""* *he rest 
 ■nirth since his majesty came to W^*' """"" "' '''* ""d 
 »re too stiff to tripln our new it I ""'' "'''"''y '™hs 
 
 »'»^ is as old-fLionedrild Tf * ,";""' »y father's 
 court suit, at sight of whcl If ,//"'' " "''"P" "= his 
 keep themselves from lalghtg^ ■" '"'"^ «» "earce 
 
 woun^Xrtitotirrd tr ^"^ -~. 
 
 eneda year later, when she vl'/ ""^"^^ ^^^^ deep- 
 
 hor father, of which no tt^^^^^^^^^ V a visit from 
 
 was Tvalkingin the convontTarc on f'TT"^ ^''- ^he 
 t^on, tasting the sunny a^r/and the? ^^^ ^°"^ ^^ ^ecrea- 
 colored tulips in the lont^f «^e beauty of the many- 
 espalier rows^raind^^«f^^:•'r"^' ^^^-een t/o 
 Puted to bear the finesrilw ^ ''*' ^'"*^^««^ ««d re- 
 within fifty miles of tt Sy'" Sf/ '"' ^"-^^"^^ P-- 
 and n wall of pink and white blont ' ""''' ^^ ^^'^'om, 
 above the scarlet and rZ 7^ '^'^ "^ ^^ either h^nd 
 Tn..,.-„„ ; ,, "^ P^^^"-^ stripes of f.ho +„i.-.._ " "^^ 
 
 Turn 
 
 ipes of the 
 
 ^ng at the end of the long alley 
 
 tulips 
 
 \j 
 
 where it met a wall 
 
56 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 that in August was tapestried with peach trees, Angela 
 saw a man advancing from tlie further end of the walk, 
 attended by a lay sister. The high-crowned hat and pointed 
 beard, the tall figure in a gray doublet crossed with a 
 black swordbelt, the v alk, the bearing, were unmistakable. 
 It might have been a figure that had stepped out of Van- 
 dyke's canvas. It had nothing of the fuss and flutter, the 
 heaping up of feathers and finery, the loose flow of brocade 
 and velvet that marked the costume of the young French 
 court. 
 
 Angela ran to receive her father, and could scarce speak 
 to him, she was so startled, and yet so glad. 
 
 ** Oh, sir, when I prayed for you at Mass this morning, 
 how little I hoped for so much happ'ness. I had a letter 
 from Hyacinth only a week ago, and she wrote nothing of 
 your intentions. I knew not that you had crossed the sea.'* 
 
 " Why, sweetheart. Hyacinth sees me too rarely, and is 
 too full of her own affairs, ever to be beforehand with my 
 intentions ; and although I have been long heartily sick 
 of England I only made up my mind to come to Flanders 
 less than a week ago. No sooner thought of than done. 
 I came by our old road, in a merchant craft from Harwich 
 to Ostend, and the rest of the way in the saddle. Not 
 quite so fast as they used to ride that carried his majesty's 
 post from London to York, in the beginning of the 
 troubles, when the loyal gentlemen along the north road 
 would gallop faster with dispatches and treaties than ever 
 they rode after a stag. Ah, child, how hopeful we were 
 in those days ; and how we all told each other it was but 
 a passing storm at Westminster, which could all be lulled 
 by a little civil concession here and there on the king's 
 part. And so it might, perhaps, if he would but have 
 conceded the right thing at the right time — yielded but 
 just the inch tliey asked for when they first asked— instead 
 of shilly-shallying till they got angry and wanted ells in- 
 
Letters From Home. 5- 
 
 stead of inclies ' Tis the stitch in time, Angela, that saves 
 touble, m politics as well as in thy petticoat " 
 
 He had flnng his arm round his daughter's neck as they 
 paced slowly side by side. ^ 
 
 timidl^r^"''''"'' ^'^ '*''^"' ^''"''"'' '"■•'' '^' "'^'^ 
 " Nay love, the place is too quint for me. I could not 
 stay in a town that is given over to learning and piety 
 The sound of their everlasting carillon would tease my ear 
 with the thought, lo, another quarter of an hour gone of 
 my poor remnant of days, and nothing to do but to doze 
 m the sunshine or fondle my spaniel, fill my pipe, or ride 
 a lazy horse on a level road, such as I have ever hated." 
 
 But why did you tire of England, sir ? I thought 
 the king would have wanted you always near him. You 
 his father's close friend, who suffered so much for roya 
 friendship. Surely he loves and cherishes you ! He mu.t 
 be a base, ungrateful man if he do not.'' 
 
 -Oh, the king is grateful, Angela, grateful enough and 
 to spare. He never sees me at court but he has some gra- 
 Clous speech about his father's regard for me. It grows 
 irksome at last, by sheer repetition. The tune of the sen- 
 tence varies, for his majesty has a fine standing army of 
 words, but the phrase is always the same, and It means 
 Here is a tiresome old Put to whom I must say something 
 civil for the sake of his ancient vicissitudes.' And then 
 this phalanx of foppery stares at mo as if I were a Toni- 
 nambon ; and since I have seen them mimic Ned Hyde's 
 stately speech and manners, I doubt not before I have 
 crossed the auce-room I have served to make sport for the 
 crew, smce their wit has but two phrases-ordure and 
 mimickry. Look not so glum, daughter. I am glad to 
 be out of a court which is most like-such places as I dare 
 not name to thcc." 
 
 -But to have you disrespected, sir; you, so brave, so 
 
hi 
 
 58 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 noble ! You who gave the best years of your life to your 
 royal master ]" 
 
 " What I gave I gave, child, I gave him youth— that 
 never comes back— and fortune, that is not worth grieving 
 for. And now that I have begun to lose the reckoning of 
 my years since fifty, I feel I had best take myself back to 
 that roving life in which I have no time to brood upon 
 losses and sorrows." 
 
 " Dear father, I am sure you must mistake the ling's 
 feelings towards you. It is not possible that he can think 
 lightly of such devotion as yours." 
 
 " Nay, sweetheart, who said he thinks lightly. He never 
 thinks of me at all, or of anything serious under God's 
 sky. So long as he has spending money, and can live in a 
 circle of bright eyes, and hear only fl.ppant tougues that 
 offer him a curious incense of flattery spiced with imper- 
 tinence, Charles Stuart has all of this life that he values. 
 And for the next— a man who is shrewdly suspected of be- 
 ing a papist, while he is attached by gravest vows to the 
 Church of England, must needs hold heaven's rewards and 
 hell's torments lightly." 
 
 " But Queen Catherine, sir ; does not she favor you ? 
 My aunt says she is a good woman." 
 
 " Yes, a good woman, anri the nearest approach to a 
 cypher to be found at Hampton Court or Whitehall. 
 Young Lord Rochester has written a poem upon ' Noth- 
 ing.' He might have taken Queen Catherine's name as a 
 synonym. She is nothing, she counts for nothing. Her 
 love can benefit nobody ; her hatred, were the poor soul 
 capable of hating persistently, can do no one harm." 
 *'And the king— is he so unkind to her ?" 
 '^Unkind! No. He allows her to live. Nay, when 
 for a few days-the brief felicity of her poor life-she 
 seemed on the point of dying, he was stricken with remorse 
 for all that he had not been to her, and was kind, and 
 
Letters From Home. tg 
 
 meant it for a compliment-one of those pious falsehoods 
 ^.at are offered to the dying-but she took him a his 
 word and recovered and she is there still, a li^ .le dark lady 
 ma fine gown of whom nobody takes any notice, l;eyond 
 « emptiest formality of bent knees and backward steps 
 There are long evenings at Hampton Court in which sh; 
 18 scarce spoken to, save wlien she fawns upon the fortu 
 
 thnVw r S''' *^"^^' ' ^''^ ««"^« of the disgust 
 
 that has made my life bitter bubbles over in spite of m 
 
 I am a wanderer and an exile again, dear heart I would 
 wmTir ?^'' '''T^ ^^^^^ ^"^^^- -°^-^ ^t home I 
 
 Louvre to tho Jr ^T^ '"'^ '' "^^ '^^^ ^"^^^^ -* the 
 and If tbt ' ''^'' "'' °^^ '"°"g^ to o^^o for me ; 
 
 and if there come a war with Spain, why, my sword mav L 
 of some , n use to young Louis, whose'motW wasTlway 
 gracious to me m the old days at St. Germain, whensle 
 
 ttne-^tt i!i:"T."'''r' '''' f°"--d that wild 
 time but the Spanish king^s death is like to light the 
 torch and set the war-dogs barking. Louis will thmst hk 
 
 t"rort?'t^ *r ^ ^^ '''^ ^~' '' ^^ZX 
 
 to a throne t'other side of the mountains." ^ 
 
 " But could a good man violate a treaty ^" 
 
 nl^ti"™ '"" "'' '''™' "''"'' "°'' -- !>- ™- 
 
 OhZT» """« ^""'^ ■' "» ^*' - ">™ than Ki„g 
 " I cnnnot answer for that, Angela ; but I'll warrant him 
 a better king from the kingly point ^f view. So™ e h^ 
 death freed him from tho oardinal'a leading-strinTthan 
 ho .natohed the rcina of po«r, showed hi, minister; thtt 
 he meant to drivo the coach. He h« ahead Tlt^, 
 
6o 
 
 When The World Was Youngor. 
 
 business as if ho hud been a son of a woolon-draper. 
 Mazarin took piiins to keep him ignorant of evcrytliing 
 that a king onglit to know; but that slirewd judgment of 
 his taught him that lie mustlinow as nuich as his servants, 
 unless he wanted them to bo his miistcirs. He hastheprido 
 of Lu' ifev, Avith a strength of will and power of application 
 as great as Richelieu's. You will live to see that no second 
 Richelieu, no new Mazarin, v/ill arise in liis reign. His 
 ministers will serve him, and go down before him, like 
 Nicolas Fouquet, to whom he has been implacable." 
 
 ** Poor gentleman ! My aunt told mo that when his 
 judges sentenced him to banishment from Franco, the king 
 changed the sentence to imprisonment for life." 
 
 " I doubt if the king ever forgave those fetes at Vaux, 
 which were designed to dazzle Mademoiselle la Valliero, 
 whom this man had the presumption to love. One may 
 pity so terrible a fall, yet it is but the ruin of a bold sen- 
 sualist, who played with millions as other men play with 
 tennis balls, and who would have drained the exchequer 
 by his briberies and extravagances if he had not been 
 brought to a dead stop. The world has been growing 
 wickeder, dearest, while this fair head has risen from my 
 knee to my shoulder ; but what have you to do with its 
 wickedness ? Here you are happy and at peace " 
 
 " Not happy, father, if you are to hazard your life in 
 battles and sieges. Oh, sir, that life is too dear to us, your 
 children, to be risked so lightly. You have done your 
 share of soldiering. Everybody that ever heard your name 
 in England or in France knows it is the name of a brave 
 captain — a leader of men. For our sakes, take your rest 
 now, dear sir. I should not sleep in peace if I knew you 
 were with Conde's army. I should dream of you wounded 
 and dying. I cannot bear to think of leaving my aunt 
 now that she is old and feeble ; but my first duty is to you, 
 and if you want me I will go with you wherever you may 
 
Letters From Home. 
 
 6i 
 
 please to make your home. I am not afraid of strange 
 countries.'* 
 
 *' Spoken like my sweet daughter, whose baby arms 
 
 clasped my neck in the day of despair. But you must 
 
 stay with the reverend mother, sweetheart. These bones 
 
 of mine must be something stiifor before they will consent 
 
 to rest in the cliininey corner, or sit in the shade of a yew 
 
 hedge while other men throw the bowls. When I have 
 
 knocked about the world a few years longer, and when 
 
 Mother Anastasia is at rest, thou shalt cr r to me at the 
 
 manor, and I will find thee a noble husband, and will end 
 
 my days with my children and grandchildren. The world 
 
 has so changed since the forties, that I shall think I have 
 
 lived centuries instead of decades, when the farewell hour 
 
 strikes. In the meantime I am pleased that you should be 
 
 here. The court is no place for a pure maiden, though. 
 
 some sweet saints there be who can walk uusmirched in* 
 
 the midst of corruption. 
 
 " And Hyacinth ? She can know nothing of the court 
 wickedness. She writes of Whitehall as if it were a para- 
 dise." 
 
 " Hyacinth has a husband to take care of her ; a man 
 with a brave headpiece of his own, who lets her spark it 
 with the fairest company in the town, but would make 
 short work of any fop who dared attempt the insolence of 
 a suitor. Hyacinth has seen the worst and the best of two 
 courts, and has an experience of the Palais Royal and 
 Saint Germain, which should keep her safe at White- 
 hall." 
 
 Sir John and his daughter spent half a day together in 
 the garden and the parlor, where the traveler was enter- 
 tained with a collation and a bottle of excellent Beau jolais 
 before his horse was brought to the door. Angela saw him 
 mount, and ride slowly away in the melancholy afternoon 
 light, and she felt as if he were riding out pf her life for- 
 
62 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 ever. She went back tt. her mint's room M'ith an aching 
 heart. TTad not that kind hidy, her mother in all the 
 essentials of maternal lovo, been so near the end of her 
 dajh, and so dependent on her niece's affection, the girl 
 would have clung about her father's neck, and insisted 
 upon going with him wherever ho went. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 
 . « 
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW. 
 
 The reverend mother lingered till the beginning of 
 summer, and it was on a lovely Juno evening, while 
 the nightingales were singing in the convent garden, that 
 the holy life slipped away into the great unknown. 
 She died as a child falls asleep ; the saintly gray head 
 lying peacefully on Angela's supporting arm ; the last look 
 of the dying eyes resting on that tender nurse with infinite 
 love. 
 
 She was gone, and Angela felt strangely alone. Her 
 contemporaries, the chosen friend who had been to her 
 almost as a sister, the girls by whose side she had sat in 
 class, had all left the convent. At twenty-one years of 
 ago, she seemed to belong to a former generation ; most 
 of the pupils had finished their education at seventeen or 
 eighteen, and had returned to their homes in Flanders, 
 France, or England. There had been several English 
 pupils, for Louvain and Douai had for a century been the 
 chosen refuge of English Romanists. 
 
 The pupils of to-day were Angela's juniors, with whom 
 she had nothing in common, except to teach English to 
 ft class of small Flemings, who were all but unteachable. 
 
The Valley Of The Shadow. Ci 
 
 She had heard no more from lu-r futhor, and know not 
 where or with whom he nughthnvo cant in his lol S e 
 wrote to him under <.over to her sinter, hut of late Hyaeiuth's 
 etters had been rare and brief, only Ion,. enou,rh, i„de d 
 to apolog.0 for their brevity. Lady Farohn,,:^!,;] boen 
 at London or at Hampton Court fror- M.. beginninc. of 
 the provioua wmter. There was taP. of the ,>lague liavinjr 
 come to London from Amsterdam, h..- the i'.ivy ConneU 
 was sitting at Sion House, instead o: i. Londonf that th 
 judges had removed to Windsor, and 1 • t the eourt mi^ht 
 speedily remove to Salisbury or Oxford. - And if the co';;rt 
 goes to Oxford, we shall go to Chilton,- wrote Ilyaeinth • 
 and that was the last of her communication * 
 
 July passed without news from father or sister and 
 Angela grew daily more uneasy about both. The great 
 horror of the plague was in the air. It had been ragiL in 
 Amsterdam m the previous summer and autumn, and a 
 nun had brought the disease to Louvain, where she might 
 have died in the convent infirmary but for Angola's devoted 
 at ention She had assisted the overworked infirmarlan It 
 a time of excess of sickncss-for there was a good deal of 
 Illness among the nuns and pupils that summer-mostly 
 
 reaTtTi 'n'' ^''''^' Pe^tilenee in Holland should 
 reaeh t landers. Doctor and infirmarian had alike praised 
 the^girl s quiet courage and instinct for doing the right 
 
 «o-!i'T''yi*^°'*"^'''™^ "^ hospitals," the Doctor 
 said to Angela, -and it is a pity tiiere are so few of the 
 same temper.'' 
 
 Bemembering all the nun had told of the horrors of 
 Amsterdam, Angela awaited with fear and trembling for 
 news from London; and as the summer wore on, every 
 news-letter that reached the convent brought tidin- of 
 increasing sickness in the great prosperous city, which was 
 being gradually deserted by all who could afford to leave 
 
64 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 tU^' aT.^ ^'^ "^"'^'^ ^''^ *^ Hampton Court in 
 Jane, and later to Salisbury, where a^ain ihTl ? 
 
 ambassador's people reported'^ ^ZZo^"-^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 found lying m the street hard by their lod<.inr th^ i? ' 
 
 servants sickening. The lir of iL lli. "^ ' 
 
 tointed-tho,.gh Ltutz:: : t:xz\z 
 
 London, wh.ch was becoming one vast law h„" e-C 
 t was thought the royalties and ambassadors wonW rem"ve 
 themselv« to Oxford, where Parliament waste asserUe 
 .n the autumn, instead of at Westminster "' 
 
 Most alarming of all was the news that the queen-mother 
 had fled w.th all her people, and most of her trrsules 
 from her palace at Somerset House-for Henrietta M- 
 was not a woman to % before a phan 1 fea? She ha. 
 seen too much of the stern realities of life to be sear d bv 
 rfiadows ; and she had neither establishment nor power in 
 
 teire-:s^^L^tpiit^^^^^ 
 :xrdnraar'^--""----"^^^ 
 
 "If she had fled, there must be reason for it " said th. 
 newlyelected Superior, who boasted of corre pond '1 at 
 Pans, notablyacousin in that famous conventtheViS^^^^ 
 dmes de Chamot, founded by Queen Henrietta, aid whfch" 
 had ever been a center of political and religions intrime 
 
 ttidritahtrnt' '"^'""' -^''^^ -0 ^'* 
 
 Alarmed at this dismal ncT-,, Angola wrote urirentlv t„ 
 h,rs,ster, but with no effect ; and' the patage^:"'^' 
 day w,th occasional rumors of an increasing death rZ 
 m London, strengthened her fears until terr^f nerved hr 
 
 h:rirsh:;e*rr."d.""" *" -"'^ ^-^^ *» -"■' f- 
 
 The Superior did all she could to oppose this decision. 
 
The Valley Of The Shadow. 
 
 65 
 
 and even asserted authority over the pupil who, since her 
 eighteenth year had been rather only a boarder, subject bu 
 b 1 ^^'^1 r.'' i"? of theconvent. Asthe great-nilce and 
 beloved cbld of the late Superior, she had enjoyed all pos- 
 sible privileges ; while the liberal sum annually remift 1 
 itshmenf''''''''' ^^""^ ^'"^ certain importance in the estab- 
 
 And now on being told she must not go, her spirit roce 
 against the Superior's authority. ^ ^ 
 
 "I recognize no earthly power that can keep me from 
 those I love in their time of peril ! " she said 
 
 - You do not know that they are in sickness or danger. 
 My last letters from Paris stated that it was only thefow 
 people whom the contagion in London was attacking " 
 
 'If It was only the low people, why did the Queen- 
 mothe. leave ? If it was safe for my sister to be in London, 
 It would have been safe for the queen." 
 "Lady Fareham is doubtless in Oxfordshire " 
 "I have written to Chilton Abbey as well as to Fareham 
 House, and I can get no answer. Indeed, reverend mother 
 It 13 time for me to go to those to whom I belong. I never 
 meant to stay in this house after my aunt's death. J have 
 only been waiting my father's orders. If all be well with 
 my sister, I shall go to the Manor Moat, and wait his com- 
 mands quietly there. I am home-sick for England " 
 
 "You have chosen an ill time for home-sickness when a 
 pestilence is raging.'' 
 
 Argument could not touch the girl, whose mind was 
 braced for battle. The reverend mother ceded with '3 
 good a grace as she could assume on the top of a verv ar 
 bitrary temper. An English priest was heard of who was 
 about to travel to London on his return to a noble friend 
 and patron in the north of England, in whose house he 
 had lived before the troubles, and in this good man's 
 charge Angela was permitted to depart, on a long and 
 
 , !■ 
 
66 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 weary journey by way of Antwerp and the Scheldt. They 
 were five days at sea, the voyage lengthened by the almost 
 unprecedented calm which had prevailed all that fatal 
 summer. A weary voyage in a small trading vessel, on 
 board which Angela had to suffer every hardship that a 
 delicate woman can be subjected to on board ship. A 
 wretched berth in a floating cellar called a cabin, want of 
 fresh water, of female attendance, and of any food but the 
 coarsest. These deprivations she bore without a murmur. 
 It was only the slowness of the passage that troubled 
 her. 
 
 The great city came in view at last, the long roof of St. 
 Paul's dominating the thickly clustered gables and chim- 
 neys, and the vessel anchored opposite the dark walls of the 
 Tower, whose form had been made familiar to her by a 
 print in an old history of London, which she had hung over 
 many an evening in Mother Anastasia's parlor. A rowboat 
 conveyed her and her fellow-traveler to the Tower stairs, 
 where they landed, the priest being duly provided with an 
 efficient voucher that they came from a city free of the 
 plague. Yes, this was London. Her foot touched her 
 native soil for the first time after fifteen years of absence. 
 The good-natured priest would not leave her till he had seen 
 her in charge of an elderly and most reputable waterman, 
 recommended by the custodian of the stairs. Then he 
 bade her an affectionate adieu, and fared on his way to a 
 house in the city, where one of his kinsfolk, a devout 
 Catholic, dwelt quietly hidden from the public eye, and 
 where he would rest for the night before setting out on his 
 journey to the north. 
 
 After the impetuous passage through the deep dark arch 
 of the bridge, the boat moved slowly up the river in the 
 peaceful eventide, and Angela's eyes opened wide with won- 
 der as she looked on the splendors of that silent highway, 
 this evening verily siksut, for the traffic of business and 
 
 pleasi 
 
 clock 
 
 seen t^ 
 
 sight i 
 
 come 1 
 
 bridge 
 
 how m 
 
 The 
 
 mansio 
 
 showed 
 
 of cypri 
 
 massive 
 
 lioned \ 
 
 where i 
 
 splendoi 
 
 on the I 
 
 as Picca 
 
 Hyacint] 
 
 briefest 
 
 in a drej 
 
 for a liti 
 
 supposed 
 
 the surre 
 
 boat pasi 
 
 some porl 
 
 Middle E 
 
 of gentler 
 
 and intri^ 
 
 Protector 
 
 lished, a h 
 
 association 
 
 victim, ha] 
 
 too, comm 
 
 change of ] 
 
 change of 1 
 
The Valley Of The Shadow. 
 
 «een the fairest cities „, Euro™ Xt'"t, ' °"°* "''° '"'* 
 ^>ght in the world, take laud ^,,1 , ° "'°'* «'»"<"'» 
 come upon a higl tide Z„,cV'\ "'«'"'"='■' «« "> 
 bridge to Wostmfnater "ana to r"' """^ '''""^ *'» 
 ho. ™eh more astouishingt:: tt "^^ -'"- 
 
 n.a^L^titns"s itr^^yr f ""^---- 
 
 showed white in tlio mids „f "' ' "''"" »""« "^taos 
 
 of c„rossand,ewprt1,iSaror:Cs'™ '■'''»"- 
 massive towers, battlementsd , 7 , , ^''^y- ^"h i's 
 
 where the Lord Chanfellor had 'h-n "™'?'' """'O' 
 spleudor, while his priueelv n,?„!- I"* "' " «'"'»■• 
 
 on the Houuslow Boad or LTr T ''""'""« y™''"-- 
 a« Piceadilly. Tte was th/ r. ''''^"''''''yb'own 
 Hyacinth had wri^^n, a i„u I oTc 7', ""'' °' '''"•«'' 
 hriefest tenure; foredUn^ed t 4 ,UikeTr'"' """ 
 m a dream, a vague ma»t,ifi„„ ^™r'''''0 a palace seen 
 for a little whilel pSt^:' '^^ -^n™" 
 supposed result of the chancrflo,.'.* T ' °''^' *''o 
 the surrender of tha Zul'otZ T ' '''''"""'' "' 
 boat p^sod before EutlLfllluL"™' Xr^ ^'^o 
 some portion of which hn,' l.t.i t ^''*'' '^ouso. 
 
 Middle Exchange tthanntoiV"'? T""'"'^ '''*'> "'« 
 of «outlewomen!miinners to' f " "! ""'^ ^<"™'-'» 
 and intrigues; and so "; Durhl'T' '" r^'^'ions 
 
 Protector Seymour's time'^thTHoriMri'I^''''' '" '''' 
 hshod, a house whose stately roonfs le "in , .T '""''■ 
 associations, shadows of Lrthumllv, T ''*'.''^'™Sio 
 victim, hapless Jane Grey and nH f "5' ''''""' ™<1 
 too, commerce shouldered ZLf ''" ^""^h. Hero, 
 change of Kin. JaZtt?™™r'7'""'i ""o New Ex- 
 
 Change of '-dat^; prov^d^n^r X'^SS," 
 
68 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 : If 
 
 li^i 
 
 
 I 
 
 glovers, barbers, and toymen, and more opportunity for 
 illicit lores and secret meetings. 
 
 Before Angela's eyes those splendid mansions passed liko 
 phantasmal pictures. The westering sunlight showed 
 golden behind the -^.ark Abbey towers, while she sat silent, 
 with awe-stricken gaze, looking out upon this widespread 
 city that lay chastened and afflicted under the hand of an 
 angry God. That beautiful, gay, proud, and splendid 
 London of the "West, the new London of Covent Garden, 
 St. James's Street, and Piccadilly, whose glories her sister's 
 pen had depicted with such fond enthusiasm, was now de- 
 serted by the rabble of quality who had peopled its palaces, 
 while the old London of the East, the historic city, was 
 sitting in suckcloth and ashes, a place of lamentations, a 
 city where men and women rose up in the morning hale 
 and healthy, and at night-fall were carried away in the 
 dead-cart, to be flung into the pit where the dead lay 
 shroudless and unhonored. 
 
 How still and sweet the summer air seemed in that sun- 
 set hour ; how placid the light ripple of the incoming tide ; 
 how soothing even the silence of the city ; and yet it all 
 meant death. It was but a few months since the fatal in- 
 fection had been brought over from Holland in a bundle of 
 merchandise ; and, behold, through city and suburbs, the 
 pestilence had crept with slow and stealthy foot, now on 
 this side of a street, now on another. The history of the 
 plague was like a game at drafts, where man after man 
 vanishes ofl the board, and the game can only end by ex- 
 haustion. 
 
 *' See, mistress, yonder is Somerset House,'' said the 
 boatman, pointing to one of the most commanding faQfidfc^ 
 in that highway of palaces. " That is the palace wh.'^h 
 the queen-mother has raised from the ashes of the ruir 
 her folly made, for the husband who loved her too well. 
 She camo back to us no wiser for years of exile — came back 
 
 with hi 
 
 bearers, 
 
 Slie flee 
 
 and the 
 
 pride ar 
 
 English 
 
 and sJie 
 
 floors of 
 
 money, ] 
 
 fed sailoi 
 
 a worse ( 
 
 house tJii 
 
 if she wi] 
 
 "Then 
 
 of the pla 
 
 " For V 
 
 to leave, } 
 
 pride yon 
 
 looked up 
 
 is the pro: 
 
 son's wife 
 
 wlio say K 
 
 Lord St. A 
 
 mortal sou 
 
 has squand 
 
 Jeremy's f( 
 
 when her s* 
 
 "You do 
 
 Angola. << 
 
 late — ever t 
 
 year of her 
 
 had to mou 
 
 happy lady ! 
 
 '•You wo 
 
 you seen hei 
 
The Valley Of The Shadow. 
 
 69 
 
 ■Sho fled f,.„i bICw^ ", • """ f"^^ '■•■«' °' K°™- 
 and tho fear of Z^ TC]Z °'sT"™" '"^J' -«' 
 pride and vain-gl„rv and l,n. .tlw, . , '"'""' '""='' '" 
 Euglish people better em n "' ""f ' ''" ''"°™ *'« 
 
 floors of eo.„r«:r/,' nr, ™ ^T"" l»'l»- »pon 
 money, mark you Z ' /"'"'", ■"'"'Wos, the people's 
 
 fed Jiors, anrs;;;r ;^ t „:M::?r "■"' '""'"'■■'' 
 
 a worse enemy than Cromwel , ■ ^ ""= "■'• J'"' 
 
 honse that she made beanffin f , T ''" °°' »' t^e 
 if Bhe ,vi„ ever see Wdottaf"'.'"''"" ' ""' "'"> '^''"" 
 
 Of rx;rr::g:ri-^:-^^^^^^^^^^ fo^ fear 
 
 "For what else sliucfslo t ' % ™'' ^^T'"' 
 to leave, yoa may be sure for =, , "'" '""' "'""S'' 
 
 pride yonder, and he eot / wl "^ ^'f' '.-■-•' i" her 
 looked np to thanQneenC X' '£ „'" ""'" T™ 
 >s the prouder woman, and held her i. Vt, '^'""'"-'""'I'e'- 
 »on's wife has eve, dared to hoM ers ' , 't" '"", '"' 
 who say King Charles's widow hasWIe;, " "", "''' "'"'« 
 
 Lord St. Albans a son nf n , "" '"" "« '» "iwry 
 
 -ortal soul ora'elt oVthf S 1^!°"^ ""r '™ '»- 
 1™ squandered his rovil m, '. " " "' '''""^y <^ I'o 
 
 wh n^her son and his friends were oS's :rtt m™s ""' 
 
 Anj:"ts ^:n:n'"'";i"^-"''"''^'"'™— ^ 
 
 lat^ever the mirk of e ■ 'f ™ ° "1''^^' »" »-' d^-- 
 year of her so," rest'r L t'"' ^^'"' ™ *'- «'°™U8 
 
 had to mourn a ^aZlTZZZ 'Z°f ''"' "" *" 
 happy lady ! " ^- ^"® ^^ a most nu- 
 
 '•' You Avould scarcely sav hh mml. , 
 you seen her in her voLlJ ' ^ ""^ "^^^^"^> ^^d 
 
 pomp and power yonder. And as for 
 
(pi 
 
 70 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 Lord St. Albans, if he is not her husband ! We;!, 
 
 thou art a young, innocent tiling— so I had be?; hold Kiy 
 peace. Both palaces are empi y and forsaken, both White- 
 hall and Somerset House. The rats and the spider? can 
 take their own pleasure in the roofi\8 that wore full of music 
 and dancing, card-playing and feasting two or throe 
 ni0)itlis ago. Why, there was no b* tter sigl\x in London, 
 aft; :' the dead-cart, than to watch the train of carv^nges 
 and horsemen r-jtrts and wagons, upon any of tJ.e great 
 high-roads, cao! ;/ing the peoplo of London away to the 
 country, as if the whole city had been moving in one mass 
 like a rou ted army . ' ' 
 
 " But in j^alac* .< and noblemen's houses surely tJiere 
 would be little dujiger?'' said Angela, ''Plagues and 
 fevers are the outcome of hunger and uncleanliness, uiid 
 all such evils as the poor have to suffer." 
 
 " Nay, but the pestilence that walketh by noontide is no 
 respecter of persons/' answered the grim boatman. " I 
 grant you that death has dealt hardest with the poor 
 who dwell in crowded lanes and alleys, but now the very 
 air reeks with poison. It may be carried in the folds of a 
 woman's gown, or among the feathers of a courtier's hat. 
 They are wise to go Avho can go. It is only such as I, who 
 have to work for my grandchildren's bread, that must needs 
 stay." 
 
 " You speak like one who has seen better days/' said 
 Angela. 
 
 *' I was a sergeant in Hampden's regiment, madam, and 
 went all through the war. When the king came back I 
 had friends who stood by me, and bought me this boat. 
 I was used to handle an oar in my boyhood, when I lived 
 on a little bit of a farm that belonged to my father, > • 
 tween Reading and Henley. I Avas oftener on the ri 'tu' 
 than on the land in the- days. There are some %, 1 ■; ,' e 
 treated mo roughly '^cru I fought against the k • . k,hg ; 
 
 hah 
 
 I'Unc 
 
 peac 
 
 At 
 
 crept 
 
 hotto 
 
 vashe 
 
 there 
 
 small 
 
 houses 
 
 noble 
 
 windo\ 
 
 two sid 
 
 fice gil, 
 
 the win 
 
 burning 
 
 festivity 
 
 fleeted ^ 
 
 ''Thii 
 
 holding 
 
 He ch{ 
 
 year ago. 
 
 still plied 
 
 fee for t; 
 
 pute theii 
 
 his life in 
 
 flight be 
 
 a' 'Ut the 
 
 *hc commi 
 
 t^ioughts 
 
 all things, ^ 
 
 passed in s 
 
 peril throng 
 
 Angela pi 
 
 stepped lig]j 
 
The Valley Of The Shadow 
 ''ottom of a fli ,,t "'' WI-.-'^ox sho^o, till it stopped att? 
 
 T""' -"' »p'-a H;ph?r""''r' -'-Tthei^': 
 
 small as compai-ed witi, «„„'""«'"«'«« southwest • 
 houses, „i<,.a, bet.rvWoh ill "r' ^"'""""'eS 
 «oWe mansion, with a rich v7» T '/'''' 'P'^^ns and 
 windows with sculntn,.,. 1 ,. ™''"*'«^ n™r-front Inff 
 t« side towers t"ppoTlr?'T"'' "o™'"^" »o™ice 2 
 f oe gMed by the K, a i°f ^''"P"'-. 'he wlj,:- e'd" 
 the windows gleamin. as ;? ? '^ ■""""""' »» look upon 
 
 S --thin, a ifehfttf ;rni"T-"'= -s 
 '■-Sirith^^^^ 
 
 He charged treble the sum 7 
 year ago In this tim o "wu^^^^^^^ half a 
 
 «till phed their trades in the tXt 7' /"*'°^^^^ «P^"ts who 
 fee for their labor; and t'^^jf ,f ^ ^^ ^^^ed a hea." 
 Pnte their claim, since each Z' t "^^ ^'^^ ^^^^'^ to disl 
 h\« We in his hand, and tla ZvT' ^^'^ ^' ^ent w 1 
 -.-l;t be lifeless c^l- 1 '' ' " ' ^^^^ toiled to day 
 
 tt '"' '^" ''^'' - taste and L of T T ^^ '"^-^"^"es^ 
 ,r ^o»inion things of dailv Kf ""^^^^ "^^^"ed with all 
 
 t^ioughts of corruption T, ? ^ "^^^^^^ dwelling If 
 ^" things, Which n'::;^tThr^"^^^^^ «^ &o? 
 passed in some wise Td^, ^^^' '""^^^^e who ha not 
 
72 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 i i 
 
 small leather-covered trnuks on the stone landing-place 
 in front of the Italian terrace which occupied the whole 
 length of the fagade. She went up a flight of marble 
 steps, to a door facing the river. Here she rang a bell 
 which pealed long and loud over the quiet water, a bell 
 that must have been heard upon the Surrey shore. Yet 
 no one opened the great oak door ; and Angela had a sud- 
 den sinking at the heart as the slow minutes passed and 
 brought no sound of footsteps within, no clanking or bolt 
 to betoken the opening of the door. 
 
 " Belike the house is deserted, madam," said the boat- 
 man, who had moored his wherry to the landing-stage, and 
 had carried the two trunks to the doorstep. You had 
 best try if the door be fastened or no. Stay ! " he cried 
 suddenly, pointing upwards. "Go not in, madam, for 
 your life ! Look at the red cross on the door, the sign of 
 a plague-stricken-house." 
 
 Angela looked up with awe and horror. A great cross 
 was smeared upon the door with red paint, and above it 
 some one had scrawled the words, " Lord have mercy 
 upon us ! " 
 
 And the sister she loved, and the children whose faces 
 she had never seen were within that house sick and in 
 peril of death, perhaps dying— or dead ! She did not 
 hesitate for an instant, but took hold of the heavy iron 
 ring which served as a handle for the door, and tried to 
 open it. 
 
 " I have no fear for myself," she said to the boatman ; 
 " I have nursed the sick and the fever-stricken, and am 
 not afraid of contagion— and there are those within whom 
 I love. Good-night, friend." 
 
 The handle of the door turned somewhat stiffly in her 
 hand, but it did turn, and the door opened, and she stood 
 upon the threshold looking into a vast hall that was 
 wrapped in shadow, save for a shaft of golden light that 
 
 etrean 
 
 windo 
 
 and bti 
 
 Seei 
 
 his sh 
 
 two tr 
 
 boat, a 
 
 "Go 
 
 the wh( 
 
 Ther 
 
 desertec 
 
 stillness 
 
 reflectec 
 
 blood. 
 
 Not a 
 
 step. A 
 
 and crin 
 
 ing. Cui 
 
 windows 
 
 consume 
 
 a wide oi 
 
 cushione( 
 
 marble, c 
 
 humanity 
 
 Angela 
 
 if death v 
 
 curtains, . 
 
 massive st 
 
 her full oi 
 
 she took i< 
 
 ebony tab] 
 
 handle, an 
 
 for the m 
 
 looking at 
 
 saw that c 
 
TI.C Valley Of The Shadow. 
 
 and bumd. '""'' "'''' "' t'^" <•»»>•. «hnttered 
 
 hif zf,:;:rstiti:rsad7e''' 'Tr""'''-«««' 
 
 bo^t, and pushed off ""-"^hoM, ran baek to his 
 
 Je'w^e';:;:;™ *- - '"-ive, «>e silence of a 
 
 stillness of fhis Zbe paved M t "f,"'""^ '° '''^ 
 -.dontheda.„aCi^ll:C;- 
 
 Not a mortal to be seen ATnf o . i , 
 ste^. A crowd of .ods and f dl ^'^''^. "^ ^"^'^ ^^ ^°«*- 
 
 Windows. A ffreit hrnlTJ ^^i ""^'"^^ *^® shuttered 
 *. ^ brazen candelabrum filled wifl. i. if 
 consumed candles stood tall and splendid at th, ^'^ 
 a wide oak staircase fl.o i..^ ;i i, i;'^""^^ at tlie foot of 
 
 cushionedwith a™;v vet =< ^"T'*'"' "" ^'""•''°' ™ 
 marble, color andrfl'l I,, ^^'f "^ """"rie, wood and 
 humanity thereof "'st;-;''"'™^ ™ -"^ -de ; but „, 
 
 « 'Xet;t;LVLra:ri;'.";' r n^-^- - 
 
 curtains, or were lurlvin^ i. Vl T °'® voluminous 
 
 massive kaireaso^Ilf e^r^ t ^hl^ ZT Vf\ '"^ 
 her full of fear ther, «««; "^^./^'^^^- ^^^e looked about 
 
 she took itup»d::„nT„„d,:''"un'':",7™ ^-^^ '»"». 
 
 ebony table there lay a p ■ , ed hat ^ '■ l'"' '"'™'' 
 handle, and a velvet eW' *, f ', , '""' '"* "" ""•'er 
 for the master of f b ' t I '°''''"'' ""' P'^oed ready 
 
 Iookin.amet, "serr"" '" T"' ""^l ; bul 
 
 -thateioakan;rt:^s:ird^::;f,"-- 
 
74 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 even than the silence, that spcotaclo of the thick dust on 
 the dark velvet iuipresscd her with the idea of a deserted 
 house. 
 
 Shu had jio lack of courage, this pupil of the Flemish 
 nuns, and h(T footstep did not falter as she went quickly 
 up the bread staircase until she found herself in a spacious 
 gallery, a'- 1 amidst a flood of light, for the windows on 
 this upper or noble floor Avere all unshuttered, and the sun- 
 set str.;>; led in through the lofty Italian casements. Fare- 
 ham House was built upon the plan of the Hotel do Ram- 
 bouillet, of which the illustrious Catherine de Yivonne 
 was herself at or.oe owner and architect. The staircase, 
 instead of being a central feature, wuf at the eastern end 
 of the house, allowing space for an unbroken suite of rooms 
 communicating one with the other, and terminating in an 
 apartment with a fine oriel window looking up the river. 
 The folding doors of a spacious saloon stood wide open, 
 and Angela entered a room whose splendor was a surprise 
 to her who had been accustomed to the sober simplicity of 
 a convent parlor, and the cold gray walls of thf refectory, 
 where the only picture was a pinched ar I angular Virgin by 
 Memling, and the oni_^ )rnaL..ont a ducifix of ebony and 
 brass. 
 
 Here for the first time sh*^ beheld a saloon for whose dec- 
 oration palaces had been ransacked a-i ' churches dese- 
 crated. The stolen treasures of many an ancesti al mansion., 
 spoil of rough soldiery or city rabble, thU ;.i that had been 
 slyly stowed away by their possi r-s »' u-ing the stern 
 simplicity of the Commonwealth, i 1 been broug.it 
 out of their hiding-places and sold o the highest bidder. 
 Gol.^ and silver had been melted down in the Great Rebti 
 lion ; but art treasures would not serve to pay soldiers or 
 to buy ammunition ; so these had escaped the melting-pot. 
 At home and abroad the storehouses of curiosity merchants 
 had been explored to beautify Lady Fareham's recoption 
 
 roon 
 
 ings 
 
 tals, 
 
 jade, 
 
 ebonj 
 
 turca 
 
 mirro 
 
 facets 
 
 embrc 
 
 cock I 
 
 factor 
 
 amidst 
 
 life. ■ 
 
 spun g 
 
 leaves, 
 
 poIishe( 
 
 flask, si 
 
 drinkin 
 
 covered 
 
 chairs ii 
 
 A silvej 
 
 table ha 
 
 burnt to 
 
 Angeh 
 
 she note( 
 
 jump wit 
 
 and of fo 
 
 She pas 
 
 a divan c( 
 
 wood, and 
 
 pheus anc 
 
 room, mo] 
 
 the saloon 
 
 stamped ai 
 
 origin, and 
 
The Valley Of The Shadow. 
 
 rooms • iind in f-l ■pi* 
 
 ebony cabiuot, incrustod wi h ral „ 7 '° '"°'"''^ "'"1 
 turcs in frames of massi,', ,? "K"'™' ""d upon ..ie- 
 
 faoots, curtains and nortierl „f * ' ' '''°'" " "'ousand 
 embroidored, ^orgoon wX ,,e wr"'""™, •;™™''^' «»« 
 
 factory of tho ero,vn fur,iitm-n ;!,"""■">"' ""'- 
 omidst all this splendor tl e " '^'"•''■'™«- H«t 
 
 life- res, on a tab en r a VenJ '"'!'«"'» »' '""»» 
 «Pn.. «l. :« simulated the deh,^. , "" ""f "' '" '^''i* 
 l°''ves, t: , „, ^ ,„ „,7X; '™™"-J' ,»' flowers and 
 polished porphyry •. ,lie„ i, , '"«^ """'"'""^ "Pon tho 
 
 flask staLi S ZlrS Tf reT" "' '"'=^' " -^»^»' 
 drmki„g.p.,,,„,. . ,e OrSal c <";!"f' "'' '""o "1 . 
 covered with scat, d card, 2'! ''"''" *''^ '""« *<« 
 chmrs indicated that there C'h" 1 ^"''"""^ »' ">" 
 A silver camlelabrnm nponi ,T '""'' ^'""- 1""^™- 
 table had furnished l"ht for tT °^ P'''"''»' ''<=a^ 'ho 
 burnt to the sockets " «"'"'=• '"^ '"^ <='«'"'llcs had 
 
 She passed into ,, * '"1' "' " "«««• 
 
 a diva/ceyfa wi • rdX:"' '"''"'™'' ™"^'»1 
 wood.andaspinet on wb W ' ""^"^ <''=^'' o'giMod 
 
 Pheus aud EuVlt tylnZ/T'' *''" ''"^ °' ^- 
 room, more soberly thouX^! i ° "■"' *''« '""ins- 
 
 the saloo,, Here 't^Xt^C vTre" f c' d""^'"'' ""■" 
 stamped and gilded with fl-.r de k ^"■■''°™n father. 
 
 or.«iu, and indeed these veryl^^^tfbr f:S^ 
 
76 
 
 When The VVoiId Was Younger. 
 
 
 by a Dutch Jew dealer in L.io time of the Fronde, aud had 
 belonged to the luitod minister Muzarin, and had been sold 
 among other of his effects when he fled from Paris : to 
 vanish for a brief season behind the clouds of public ani- 
 mosity, and to blazo out again, an elderly pho'nix, in a 
 new palace, adorned with treasures of art and industry 
 that nuide royal princes envious. 
 
 Angela gazed on all this splendor as one bewildered. 
 In front of that gilded wall, (piivering in mid-air, as if it 
 had been painted upon the shaft of light that streamed in 
 from the tall window, her fancy piriturcd the blood-red 
 cross and the piteous legend, '•■ Lord have mercy on us ! " 
 written in the same blood-color. For herself she had 
 neither horror of the pestilence nor fear of death. Re- 
 ligion had familiarized her mind with the image of the 
 destroyer. From her childhood she had been acquainted 
 with the grave, and with visions of a world beyond the 
 grave. It was not for herself she trembled, but for her 
 sister, and her sister's children ; for Lord Fareham, whose 
 likeness she recalled even at this moment, the grave dark 
 face which Hyacinth had shown her on the locket she wore 
 upon her nock, the face which Sir John said reminded 
 him of Strafford. 
 
 " He has just that fatal look," her father had told her 
 afterwards when they talked of Fareham, " the look that 
 men saw in Wentworth's face when he came from Ireland, 
 and in his majesty's countenance, after Wentworth's 
 murder." 
 
 While she stood in the dying light, wavering for a mo- 
 ment, doubtful which way to turn — since the room had no 
 less than three tall oak doors, with richly sculptured heads, 
 two of them ajar — there came a pattering upon the polished 
 floor, a pattering of feet that were lighter and quicker 
 than those of the smallest child, and the first living crea- 
 ture Angela saw in that silent house, came rui.ang to- 
 
TIic Valley Of The Shadow. 
 
 Wluw,.. " "?■;'' ° """' "'-''-"-">" spaniel, wiu! 
 fo r,,] „' M "'"' ''''°°P"'8 "'"■»> "'"i g™t brown eye 
 
 th. one s,!; he,;,, ej.t Tl f' j^IL Ti ""n d "'"" °i 
 
 r.hi"Xtor:rr4« 
 
 on the ot, er sX'of i T ^'"' '""' "»<""' '^''™'<« 
 
 and h„„„;;S, :: '„tt:,:;:;"-° ^ ^^°"' ■' "-" 
 fecf ;:!:,rn';h,i; tf t^ '1,""' -r r «" ->- 
 
 litUe wide and we"f in „ tt . '""'"='' *'"> '"''" » 
 
 mo. ,p,endid^ZVnTh^e r;eTrLl;,td?" 
 dop,cted when s,.e read of roya, pa,aoer ' '^ '™ 
 
 »ped ^:^L::':!^j:';^:^^r; '^i 
 
 glowing were the phI^,.. + 7 yesterUaj, so fresli and 
 
 freat pLrt,!':^^ ^ Td zr"","*'' ' V°"^ 
 
 the three ta„ window. ..oodthestatltdro?;:::!^::^: 
 
 ' * I 
 
 M 
 'I 
 

 78 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 the posts adorned with massive bouquets of chased silver 
 flowers, the curtains of wine-colored velvet, heavy with 
 bullion fringes. One curtain had been looped back, 
 showing the amber satin lining, and on this bed of state 
 lay a man, writhing in agony, with one bloodless hand 
 plucking at the cambric upon his bosom, Avhile with the 
 other he grasped the ebony bed-post in a paroxysm of 
 pain. 
 
 Angela knew that dark and powerful face at the first 
 glance, though the features were distorted by suffering. 
 This sick man, the sole occupant of a deserted mansion, 
 was her brother-in-law, Lord Fareham. A large high- 
 backed armchair stood beside the bed, and on this Angela 
 seated herself. She recollected the Superior's injunction 
 just in time to put one of the anti-pestilential lozenges 
 into her mouth before she bent over the sufferer, and took 
 his clammy hand in hers, and endured the acrimony of his 
 poisonous breath. That anxious gaze, the dark yellow 
 complexion, and those great beads of sweat that poured 
 down the pinched countenance, too plainly indicated the 
 disease which had "lesolated London. The Moslem's in- 
 visible plague-angel had entered this palace, and had 
 touched the master with his deadly lance. That terrible 
 presence which for the most part had been found among 
 the dwellings of the poor, was here amidst purple and 
 fine linen, here on this bed of state, enthroned in ebony 
 and silver, hung round with velvet and bullion. She 
 needed not to discover the pestilential spots beneath that 
 semi-diaphanous cambric which hung loose upon the 
 muscular frame, to be convinced of the cruel fact. Here, 
 abandoned and alone, lay the master of the house, with 
 nothing better than a pair of sj^aniels for his companions, 
 and neither nurse nor watcher, wife nor friend to help him 
 to recovery, or comfort his passing soul. 
 
 One of the little dogs leapt on the bed, and licked liia 
 
The Valley Of The Shadow. 
 
 master's face again and again, .Mni„g ^iecoasty hotwo™ 
 
 and Turonne, he sho „d w^f ' " """""""' °' ^onde 
 ^onndrfa tampe b1T/o .7'^ """ ™ "'^'^ "■<' 
 a^..aK.n,„„ter:C,7l1::t^ 
 
 in lii"a ^'.,^•1.^ ;> ^ "gW- when he wa^ -i U,l 
 
 111 nis lather s comnimv nf ll/^,.„^ -<• n . ■* ^'''^ 
 
 unes, breathing guSe''V,°nri'"f "'°,''"«'^ '"■'- 
 the first time-when u™;r ? -^ "'"' """"' *°'' 
 
 who.n,.WedanSh„r?tr™^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 -:inghist:dizis wfthni,^™''^':' "» -«' 
 
 loud and shrill, addi,!; iCtt^oVurT'' '"f'l 
 battles and sieves ifo wo. i • .V "^'^^ ^^^^^ of 
 
 and rain, and S, iftl^l^^^ tStf '-o"- 
 moanting the breach at Dunkirk ^^21 T\ ^^ 
 
 the n,idst of his rfvings ffen iTlT/'T '' ^'" "' 
 
 ^:i:^^;:;;t^n-^-i^;^r^ 
 
 «pon his hr„. gaei..d thiot^;;rv:::or 'S: 
 
 'i 
 
 ill 
 
8o 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 Angela remembered how last year in Holland these death- 
 like sweats had not always pointed to a fatal result, but in 
 some cases had afforded an outlet to the pestilential influ- 
 ences, though in too many instances they had served only 
 to enfeeble the patient, the fire of disease still burning, 
 while the damps of approaching dissolution oozed from the 
 fevered body — flame within and ice without. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A MIKISTERING ANGEL. 
 
 Angela flung off hood and mantle, and looked anxiously 
 round the room. There were some empty phials and oint- 
 ment boxes, some soiled linen rags, and Avet sponges upon 
 a table near the bed, and the chamber reeked with the 
 odor of drugs, hartshorn, and elder vinegar ; cantharides, 
 and aloes, enough to show that a doctor had been there, 
 and that there had been some attempt at nursing the pa- 
 tient. But she had heard how in Holland the nurses had 
 sometimes robbed and abandoned their charges, taking ad- 
 vantage of the confusions and uncertainties of that period 
 of despair, quick and skillful to profit by sudden death, and 
 the fears and agonies of relatives and friends, \vhose grief 
 made plunder easy. She deemed it likely that one of tliose 
 devilish women had first pretended to succor, and had 
 then abandoned Lord Fareham to his fate, after robbing 
 his house. Indeed the open doors of a stately iidaid ward- 
 robe between two windows over against the bed, and the 
 confused appearance of the clothes and linen on the shelves 
 indicated that it had been ransacked by Jiasty hands ; 
 while, doubtless, there had been manv valua])leR Iviu^ looao 
 
A Ministering Angel. 
 
 8l, 
 
 itTi^^io^" '''''"' ''''-' '''' '''-y -^^■■-^- of a care. 
 ''Alas, poor gentleman, to be loft bv «nm« 
 
 and looking np at her with ri,-c+ i i "J tne wri^t, 
 
 seemed an e ern ty he it, i f ^?^^ '"^ ^^"^^^ ^^«"^«' ^^^^t 
 
 this terrible undor-worl f hro.tl 'Y, fi * '? "'''"'"''""' "> 
 
 everting l,.„.e. ; the burnir^ o, eve w! 1 f ' 
 that IS never onenobod • fl.n , • xi / '^^ ^^'^ 
 
 ™ the wormli att ,; Z ''T,,"!' ™:"'f. '"» '""^ 
 there came the vision „£ a se™l„V f 7 ? '"' '°™"'"' 
 gontie solicitude, a fac:'t;::tZ , 'ol S Z, it"" '" 
 in the midst of his agony After tl,!t n , ' ^™ 
 
 he sank slowly back "npo'n tt ^^ ZT^.TT'^'l 
 
 weai., hi, breathing scar™ andibirZela, J fw" '" 
 on Ins wrist. The pulse was fluttering Sd n rm tt nT' 
 
 Slie remembered every dotnil nf 1 ^^^ "^'^t.rmittent. 
 
 the „la„^e.patie„t in thf co ut ifl™" a' 7',;™'" "'" 
 tnrni„g.p„:„t cf the malady and b gm'nrr^^ '■""'"'? 
 
 tainting creature at :t;L:foro;::XrZ' 
 
is 
 
 82 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 looked about the room for any flask which might contain 
 wine, but there was nothing there except the apothecary's 
 phials and medicaments. 
 
 It was dusk ah-eady, and she was alone in a strange 
 house. It would seem no easy task to find what she 
 wanted, but the case was desperate, and she knew enough 
 of this mysterious disease to know that if the patient could 
 not rally speedily from this prostrate condition the end 
 must be near. With steady brain she set herself to face 
 the difficulty— first to administer something which should 
 sustain the sick man's strength, and then, without loss of 
 time, to seek a physician, and bring him to that deserted 
 bed. Wine was the one thing she could trust to in this 
 crisis ; for of the doses and lotions on yonder table she 
 knew nothing, nor had her experience made her a believer 
 in the happy influence of drugs. 
 
 Her first search must be for light with which to explore 
 the lower part of the house, where in pantry or stillroom 
 or, if not above-ground, in the cellars, she must find what 
 she wanted. Surely somewhere in that spacious bed- 
 chamber there would be tinder-box and matches. There 
 were a pair of silver candlesticks on the dressing-table, 
 with thick wax candles burnt nearly to the sockets. 
 
 A careful search at last discovered a tinder-box and 
 matches in a dark angle of the fireless hearth, hidden be- 
 hind the heavy iron dogs. She struck a light, kindled her 
 match, and lighted a candle, the sick man's eyes following 
 all her movements, but his lips mute. As she went out of 
 the door he called after her — 
 
 '^ Leave me not, thou holy visitant— leave not my soul 
 in hell ! " 
 
 " I will return ! " she cried. '< Have no fear, sir : I go 
 to fetch some wine." 
 
 Her errand was not done quickly. Amidst all the mag- 
 nificence she had noted on her joiirney through the long 
 
A Ministering Angel. g^ 
 
 onlyL empty S fla J ™''''." ""'' "'™'-'''° '"»" «-» 
 ran down thj wWo !h Iw/ 5"'? '°°«"" ^''^ '>"■» 
 hero she foundrer df i 71,. %[" "" '°™ '''"'■■' "'«' 
 into s™„„ ™om;ri ™™ tCffl ef SM; '""'''" 
 
 luxury whici be aTth!':,™ ''' =°'""- "'"' ^-bstontial 
 
 plate-in presses behind glaz cl do»s 0^ JT""",'"" 
 pane, had been broken, /nd the sXs ^"Lfprt t! 
 
 Wine there was none to he fonnd in any part of th„ 
 room, but a small army of empty bottles in feoCe,- of the 
 floor, and a confns on of ^ron.v r^iof. i . "*^^ ^^ ^"^ 
 bones, and other scrapl ^1^1^ '1™^^^ ^ 
 carousing here at no remote time ^ ^'"^ 
 
 The cellars were doubtless below these offices but th« 
 wine-cellars would assuredly be locked nmli 1 V 
 search for the keys She Ll\ 1 ' '^'® ^'^^ *« 
 
 the lower part ofli; pre es ^"nd .,?TT • '''" '"^"" ^^ 
 secret draL, found T:^:^ ^ ; ImeXl "t 
 were provided with parchment labels ami .Z T " 
 h^ily were two labid ^^ Ye .r^^C'^f^Z 
 '* 1 e smaller wme cellar, W." 
 
 This was a point gained ; bvifc vhf- opnrni, i,„,i . , 
 
 a considerable time She ha ^^--Z u ^^^ «^«"Pi«d 
 
 iZ:Xz.^:z^'i:i^^7'^^f .«<- was 
 
 howinsomeca,esu„happy„et;h;shSt;'^trfhXa 
 
i 
 
 w 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
 84 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 of death and rushed out of doors, delirious, half-naked, to 
 anticipate tlie end of a fatal chill. 
 
 On her way to the butler's office she had seen a stone 
 archway at the head of a flight of stairs leading down into 
 darkness. By this staircase she hoped to find the wine- 
 cellars, and presently descended, her candlestick in one 
 hand, and the two great keys in the other. As she went 
 down into the stone basement, which was built with the 
 solidity of a dungeon, she heard the plash of the tide, and 
 felt that she was now on a level with the rivsr. Here she 
 found herself again in a labyrinth of passages, with many 
 doors standing ajar. At the end of one passage she came 
 to a locked door, and on trying her keys, found one of 
 them to fit the lock ; it was " Ye great wine cellar S.,'* 
 and she understood by the initial " S." that the cellar 
 looked south and faced the river. 
 
 She turned the heavy key with an effort that strained the 
 slender fingers which held it ; but she was unconscious of 
 the pain, and wondered afterwards to see her hand dented 
 and bruised where the iron had wrung it. The heavy door 
 revolved on massive hinges, and she entered a cellar so large 
 that the light of her candle did not reach the furthermost 
 corners and recesses. 
 
 This cellar was built in a series of arches, fitted with 
 stone bins, and in the upper part of one southward-fronting 
 arch there was a narrow grating, through which came the 
 cool breath of evening air and the sound of water lapping 
 against stojie. A patch of faint light showed pale against 
 the iron bars, and as Angela looked that way, a great gray 
 rat leapt through the grating, and ran along the topmost 
 bin, making the bottles shiver as he scuttled across them. 
 Then came a thud on the sawdust-covered stones, and she 
 knew that the loathsome thing was on the floor upon which 
 she was standing. She lowered her light shudderingly, 
 and for the first time since she entered that house of 
 
 dread 
 fear. 
 
 The 
 
 ness 0] 
 
 And a 
 
 with a 
 
 She m 
 
 remain 
 
 In a 
 
 pushed 
 
 seemed 
 
 ges ; ye 
 
 Rememi 
 
 outside, 
 
 it once t 
 
 the lapp 
 
 and she 
 
 in the let 
 
 She CO 
 
 for the w 
 
 sick nun^ 
 
 Burgund; 
 
 several fu 
 
 and other 
 
 which hu: 
 
 fore she c 
 
 was anotl 
 
 The botth 
 
 for the bii 
 
 dust upon 
 
 wine. Shi 
 
 then with 
 
 darksome 
 
 leaving th 
 
 locked. T 
 
A Ministering Angel. 
 
 dread the y„„„g, b,,,, ,,„, ;^^^ J.^^ ^^^ ^.^^_^^^^ «j 
 
 And if yonder du„oe„t lii; I ^ " "''^ *"'> them I 
 «th a spring loeksir^W,? ■?"'';*'' ™"« '» »»<! «l'nt 
 She might die tie mo,t if f™* *''"" "' *''° "'"■k™». 
 remainLever unCwn '""' "' ""'''''' »'» ^er fete 
 
 seemed too heavy to tlifelv f^ T"'* °P^»'°g- « 
 
 Ses ; yet the mere W ao 1. Lo"^" '"'°'' "?»" * "n- 
 Kemembering her lahor ilT-nloel rf'^r^''""'''' "- 
 ontside, she doubted if she en,?!^ ^ ■ 1 '^'"" ''■»■» "le 
 it onee to eloso upon tha a " ' "'u " ''■°'" '"""" «™ 
 the lapping of the XZTml ^"^ 1' '"'^ '™^ 
 and she saw little spirits of „lt It '"""'''"' '»■"'•'■•' 
 in the lessening light. '^ ^ ""'""«'' "8-™»t the bara 
 
 She collected herself with «„ „«„ i 
 for the wine. Sack ^iLwt'hrtr "'""''"'' 
 ™k n„n and it was that wine Zwchl^'T f *' 
 Burgundy and claret, labeled "07,1' V l"'""^' *^' 
 several full bins, and more th.t ^^ T'"'' *" '°™<i 
 and other rarer vines we „ denln T'^ ""P'^ ^ ^ol^^y 
 ^hich hung above eleh bin ^ it w """'""™' ''■"'* 
 fore she came to a bin labded "Ue '"-r fT*f ''^- 
 ^-as another name fov +1,. ^"^nis, which she knew 
 
 The bottles ^^ZialVllZ:^"', 1/''""'* --• 
 for the bin was full of cib vebs an tf 't °? '""^ ''""'' 
 dnst upon the glass hZlT , " """'' """ting of 
 
 wine. Sheearrifd off htb, 1 ' ^^'"'""^ "«« "the 
 then with even qu eke Zm 1 1! T?,""'' '^'"' ''™' ""^ 
 
 ;l:^:r:hf'^^ti'T^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 -W. ..ere-idt-'-™^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
I 
 
 86 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 
 Farcham's wine when she had cared for Lord Fureham 
 himself. 
 
 His eyes were fixed upon the doorway as she entered. 
 They shone upon her in the dusk with an awful glassiness, 
 as if life's last look had become fixed in death. He did 
 not speak as she drew near the bed, and set the wine bot- 
 tles down upon the table among the drugs and cataplasms. 
 
 She had found a silver-handled corkscrew in the butler's 
 room among the relics of the feast, and with this she 
 opened one of the bottles, Fareham watching her all the 
 time. 
 
 "Is that some now Alexapharmic ? " he asked with a 
 istidden rational air, which was almost as startling as if a 
 dead man had spoken. "I will have no more of their 
 loathsome drugs. They have made an apothecary's shop 
 of my body. I would rather they let me rot by the plague 
 than poison me with their antidotes, or dissolved me to 
 death with their sudorifics.'^ 
 
 "This is not a medicine. Lord Fareham, but your 
 own wine ; and I want you to drink a long draught of 
 it, and then, Avho knows, but you may sleep off your 
 malady.'' 
 
 "Ay, sleep in my grave, sweet friend ! I have seen the 
 tokens of my breast that means death. There is but one 
 inevitable end for all who are so marked. 'Tis like the 
 forester's notch upon the tree. It means doom. He was 
 king of the forest once perhaps : but no matter. His 
 time has come. Oh, Lord, thou hast tormented me with 
 hot burning coals ! " he cried, in a sudden access of pain ; 
 and in the next minute he was raving. 
 
 Angela filled a beaker with the bright golden wine, and 
 offered it to the sick man's lips. It was not without infi- 
 nite pains and coaxing that she induced him to drink : but 
 when once his parched lips had tasted the cold liquor, he 
 drank eagerly, as if that strong wine had been a draught of 
 
 Water. 
 
 empty, 
 
 all tlie 
 
 epcakal 
 
 have dr 
 
 Het£ 
 
 of deliri 
 
 he grew 
 
 with h( 
 
 quieter 1 
 
 the win^ 
 
 ness she 
 
 while tl 
 
 clouded 
 
 him, and 
 
 locks wei 
 
 Would 
 
 It was ^ 
 
 unpeople( 
 
 circumsta 
 
 and negle 
 
 without li 
 
 and comf( 
 
 ferer. H( 
 
 abandonee 
 
 paid servi( 
 
 To the , 
 
 was elevatf 
 
 band she v 
 
 ness most ( 
 
 plague-stri- 
 
 abominable 
 
 Regan's. 
 
 lovely oreat 
 
 incarnate, c 
 
A Ministering Angel. 
 
 empty, f h! W WofoS? °'™'-->->«- "-kor „a 
 
 BpcakaWo comfort , tha fl" '^ ""', ""? '"'™ ™ ""■ 
 have dnmk foul wa l,- v ^^ T ""« /'""''• Ho would 
 
 He talked fas Ind „ 'sirS.r r"" ""'"• 
 of dolirium, for some ZZ- f ''■''J»"'tod soutoneos 
 
 hagrewn:„;e an™, 'tdTniol? •«"'•,''"''' ''^"'*' 
 with hor fingers laid' ™n *^ .'•''"'"^'"'"''^''""'bed, 
 
 quieter beat of he p"te'wfoh°" T ""'' ""'*^'J «"= 
 
 the wing of a fHghtCd'b "^^0, Xd''""r'. ""^ 
 ness she saw the eyo]\<U .iv. ^ '^^''P thankful- 
 
 while the ^r:ji^t;ZZ"^ d 'r'""" ''^^^''"»' 
 clouded the weary biS tL "'"'. ^''"'=' •« «'eep 
 
 him, and nestled eLe to Lnin "''T^ "''"I" '""'■•« 
 Ioc^«weremi.edwi:H:S^^^^^^^ 
 Would he d,e ■„ that sleep, she wendered ? ^ 
 
 «npe:;:rhr;STe°,fa?,""" ""^ ^''■' -'-^ «- 
 
 ciroumstanoe which h!dbl"^r'°,*° 'P^"""'" ™ «'« 
 and neglect, herTwheref J *'? /.^°"' "'""' '""""^^^ 
 withenf limit sholt 1 fst'cu'd the' " k T"" """''«* 
 and comfort that devoted sSo„ Id l^rT' ''"'' "™ 
 ferer. How was it that ,1,VT j , '"'' "P™ " ™f- 
 
 abandoned to the cl 't 1 ,/„"" leftl 'T\^-^^^-^ 
 paid service. "'renngs, left to the chances of 
 
 To the cloister-reared maiden the idpo „f ; , , 
 was elevated almost to a relij"„ T^ f „°' """'^ ''"'y 
 band she would have mvS.l „ ° '"*'"=■■ ""• *» ^s- 
 ness most of all devoted T„ ,"'™"t^''«™tio», in sick- 
 
 Plague-stricken 0"^ wTemSt 'h" '"*" " " 
 abominable as Tullia's a tr„Il i ''*'' " ^'"o a^ 
 Began',. Could bo tha T '^ .'"^° "^ ^°'»"''» »■• 
 iovdyereature, WW fa'le ; " T' '^' *'"^'" "" 
 incarnate, could sh; havnl^ Z^^: Z'C::2 
 
 > I 
 
88 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 lenco which spared neither youth nor lieauty, neither the 
 strong man nor tlie weakling child ? Ilcr heart grew 
 heavy as lead at the thought that this stranger, by 
 whose pillow she Avas watching, might be the sole survivor 
 in that forsaken palace, and that in a few more hours he, 
 too, would bo numbered with the dead, in that dreadful 
 city where death reigned omnipotent, and where the living 
 seemed but a vanishing minority, pale shadows of living 
 creatures passing silently along one inevitable patliway to 
 the pest-house or pit. 
 
 That calm sleep of the plague-stricken might mean re- 
 covery, or it might mean death. Angela examined tlie po- 
 tions and nnguents on the table near the bed, and read the 
 instructions on ja'",- nad phials. One was an Alexaphar- 
 mic draught, to '■ lien the last thing at night, another 
 a sudorific, to he !vd.5;unistered once in every hour. 
 
 "I would not waliij him to give him the finest medicine 
 that ever physician prescribed," Angela said to herself. 
 "I remember what a happy change one hour of quiet 
 slumber made in Sister Monica, when she was all but dead 
 of a quartan fever. Sleep is God's physic." 
 
 She knelt upon a Prie-Dieu chair remote from the bed, 
 knowing that contagion lurked amid those voluminous 
 hangings, beneath that stately canopy with its lustrous 
 satin lining, on which the light of the wax candles Avas 
 reflected in shining patches as upon a lake of golden water. 
 She had no fear of the pestilence ; but an instinctive pru- 
 dence made her hold herself aloof, now that there was 
 nothing more to be done for the sufferer. 
 
 She remained long in prayer, repeating one of those 
 litanies which she had learnt in her infancy, and which of 
 late had seemed to her to have somewhat too set and me- 
 chanical a rhythm. The earnestness and the fervor seemed 
 to have gone out of them in somewise since she had come 
 to womanhood, "'he names of the saints her lips invoked 
 
 were di 
 superb u 
 
 wllOSO ]] 
 
 toriea W( 
 
 she scan 
 
 Jn the 
 
 of Itofng 
 
 promise ( 
 
 The lit 
 
 part of tl 
 
 of licr re] 
 
 her prayc 
 
 absent sis 
 
 Wen up ii 
 
 cr. To I 
 
 and love r 
 
 a girl's tn 
 
 She was 
 
 of an appr* 
 
 house till i 
 
 The night 
 
 open, and i 
 
 time she ro 
 
 led by tlio 
 
 that meian 
 
 stricken suf 
 
 She foun( 
 
 man of me 
 
 suggested o 
 
 even more s 
 
 which met h 
 
 There was 
 
 stranger sali 
 
 laid down hu 
 
 "Surely, r 
 
A Ministering Angel. 
 
 80 
 
 wero dull and cold ■inri « i i 
 
 whoso J,, rsonality was vZ! : , "' ™'"' »' intorr.,so™ 
 
 ^1.0 source .I„ro<l InoTeynZ^TT "■'"' '"''''' ' 
 Jn tho Ono frucifled ZhZ ,7''.'"'' '"'S'" '"' '■■"<' ? 
 
 promise of immortality l.oroaftcr! '° '""•"' '^'^ 
 
 -ine litanies to viririi nirl fi..,-,.f„ 
 
 part of that inu.uoit'oi.^i ir: ir:. ";fo ™ " ""'^- 
 
 of hci- religion ; and thon nil ,/"''''. '^'^^ <^^^e groundwork 
 her pruyens foi^ Z 1 ' " "^P^^-'^tions of her heart, 
 
 ^^K up in ono stream of invoca Ln o n'^r T'^^'"""^^«^ 
 or. To Him, and Ilim alone i ^ t' ^^'' ^''''^''^- 
 and love rose like theTnc.. ' '^'^^^ ^^n,e of faith 
 
 a girPs trusting heart "^°" '" ^^'^^^^^^^ -^*- of ^ 
 
 She was s(> lost in meditafinn fT,„^ i, 
 
 of an approaching foot::e;t I' fc t^^rT'T? 
 house til t drew npar t„ n,„ n , ",™* "' the deserted 
 
 The night ,as e oseand" It '1°'^ "' ""^ ^'"i' ™»™- 
 open, and that s Wtre^ h^, T '"'l*'' ""«» >"=« «>o door 
 time she rose froLh t tees T ■ "■" "'™'""'' "^ ^e 
 
 M by t,.o first hum,:; PC : • whi riTnT'' ^'^^'■ 
 
 »arof'rd!;rs\'a:::*:/ri;i^r'^-^^^^^^ 
 
 »uggest.a one of the" Inet ^^J:^' ™'™"« """ 
 even more startled than Angoirat tl ' " ^^^"''P<""■'«i 
 whioh met his ga.o, faintly ^:!^:Z'^^" ™" 
 Ihere was silenr-P fnr « ^^ ^ «"u ii^ it. 
 
 stranger sahtdXwywur.T^T' ""'' '"^ *» 
 
 1»M down his gold-handled::™"'"™^ "■™""'' ^ >^« 
 
 "Surely, madam, this mansion of my Lord Fareham'a 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 fc 
 
 fe 
 
 
 :/. 
 
 
 /•A 
 
 1.0 !ri^ llM 
 
 I.I 
 
 !^ U& 12.0 
 
 IL25 ■ 1.4 
 
 111^ 
 
 1.6 
 
 ^"t. 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sdences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80 
 
 (716) 873-4503 
 
 fV 
 
 iV 
 
 :1>^ 
 
 s> 
 
 '"V 
 
 
 
 > 
 
 'L'-' 
 
 «- 
 

 .v 
 
 ..v 
 
 4^ m"^ 
 
 XL 
 
 
90 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 must be enchanted," he said. " I left a crowd of atten« 
 dants, and the stir of life below and above stairs, only this 
 forenoon last past. I find silence and vacancy. That is 
 scarce strange in this dejected and unhappy time ; for it 
 is but too common a trick of hireling nurses to abandon 
 their patients, and for servants to plunder and then desert 
 a sick house. But to find an angol where I left a hag ! 
 That is the miracle ! And an angel who has brought heal- 
 ing, if I mistake not," he added, in a lower voice, bending 
 over the sleeper. 
 
 " I am no angel, sir, but a weak, erring mortal," answered 
 the girl gravely. '' For pity's sake, kind doctor — since I 
 doubt not you are my lord's physician — tell me where are 
 my dearest sister, Lady Fareham, and her children. Tell 
 me the worst, I entreat you ! " 
 
 ** Sweet lady, there is no ill news to tell. Her ladyship 
 and the little ones are safe at my lord's house in Oxford- 
 shire, and it is only his lordship yonder who has fallen a 
 victim to the contagion. Lady Fareham and her girl and 
 boy have not been in London since the plague began to 
 rage. My lord had business in the city, and came hither 
 alone. He and the young Lord Rochester, who is the 
 most audacious infidel this town can show, have been 
 bidding defiance to the pestilence, deeming their nobility 
 safe from a sickness which has for the most part chosen 
 its victims among the vulgar." 
 
 " His lordship is very ill, I fear, sir ?" said Angela, in- 
 terrogatively. 
 
 " I left him at eleven o'clock this morning with but 
 scanty hope of finding him alive after sundown. The 
 woman I left to nurse him was his house-steward's wife, 
 and far above the common kind of plague-nurse. I did 
 not think she would turn traitor." 
 
 " Her husband has proved a false steward. The house 
 has been robbed of plate and valuables^ as I believe, from 
 
A Ministering Angel. g^ 
 
 Bigns I scw below stairs; and I suppose husband and wife 
 went oil togetlier. 
 
 " Alack, madam, this pestilence has brought Into plav 
 some of the worst attributes of human nature. The tokens 
 and loathly boils which break out upon the flesh of the 
 plague-stricken are less revolting to humanity than the 
 cruelty ot those who minister to the sick, and whose only 
 desire IS to profit by the miseries tiiat surround them^ 
 wretches so vile that they have been known willfully to 
 convey tne seeds of death from house to house, in order to 
 mfect the sound, and so enlarge their area of gains It 
 was an artful device of those plunderers to paint the' red 
 ci'oss on the door, and thus scare away any visitor who 
 might have discovered their depredations. But you mad 
 
 cTntrg^oTf"'' '"'^ '"' '"'"''' ''''' ^^" ^^ '^'^ ''' '^^ 
 "Nay, sir, I know that I am in God's hand. Yonder 
 
 nuld^' Tl"'^ '' "'' '^' ""''' plague-patient I have 
 nuised Ihere was a nun came from Holland to our con- 
 vent at Louvain last year, and had scarce been one night 
 m the house before tokens of the pestilence were discov- 
 ered iipon her. I helped the infirmarian to nurse her, and 
 with God's help we brought her round. My aunt the 
 Heverend Mother, bade me give her the best^wLT ther 
 was in the house-strong Spanish wnie that a rich mer 
 
 though that good wine drove the poison from her blood 
 She recovered by the grace of God after only a few days' 
 careful nursing. Finding his lordship stricken with such 
 great weakness, I ventured to give him a draught of the 
 beat sack I could find in his cellar." 
 
 - Dear lady, thou art a miracle of good sense and com- 
 passionate bounty. I doubt thou hast saved thy sister 
 irom widow's weeds," said Dr. Hodgkins seated by the bed, 
 WHh his fingers on the patient'3 wrist, and hig massive 
 
 '■■iV. , ( I 
 
Si: 
 
 ii 
 
 n, 
 
 92 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 gold watch in the other hand. "This sound sleep prom- 
 ises well, and the pulse beats soineAvhat slow and steadier 
 than it did this morning. Then the case seemed hopeless, 
 and I feared to give wine — though a free use of gencrons 
 Avine is my particular treatment — lest it sin uld fly to his 
 brain, and disturb his intellectuals at a time when ho 
 should need all his senses for the final disposition of his 
 affairs. Great estates sometimes hang upon the breath of 
 a dying man." 
 
 " Oh, sir, but your patient ! To save his life, that Avould 
 sure be your first ar.d chiefcst thought." 
 
 " Ay, ay, my pretty miss ; bx;t I had other measures. 
 Apollo twangs not ever on the same bow-string. Did my 
 sudorific work Avell, think you ?" 
 
 **He was bathed in perspiration when first I found him : 
 but the sweat-drops seemed cold and deadly, as if life it- 
 self were being dissolved out of him." 
 
 " Ay, there are cases in which that copious sweat is the 
 forerunner of dissolution ; but in others it augurs cure. 
 The pent-up poison, which is corrupting the p?>'"nt'8 
 blood, finds a sudden vent, its virulence is diluted i if 
 the end i^rove fatal, it is that the patient lacks power to 
 rally after the ravages of the disease, rather than that the 
 poison kills. AVas it instantly after that profuse sweat you 
 gave him the wine, I wonder ? " 
 
 "It was as speedily as I could procure it from the cellar 
 below stairs." 
 
 "And that strong wine given in the nick of time, re- 
 assembled nature's scattered forces, and rekindled the 
 flame of life. Upon my soul, sweet young lady, I believe 
 thou hast saved him ! All the drugs in Bucklersbury 
 could do no more. And now tell me what symptoms you 
 have noted since you have watched by his bed ; and tell 
 me further if you have strength to c >ntinue his nurse, 
 with such precautions as I shall dictate, and such help as 
 
A Ministering Angel. 
 
 I can ficnd 
 
 93 
 
 tlio shi 
 
 " - -— x— of a stout, honest serving- 
 
 wench of mine, and a man to guai-d tlio lower part of voitr 
 house, and fotcli and carry for you ? " 
 
 "I will do everything you bid mo, with all my heart, 
 and with such skill as I can command,'* 
 
 "Those delicate fingers were formed to minister to the 
 sick. And you will not shrink from loathsome offices- 
 from the application of cataplasms, from cleansing foul 
 sores ? Those blains and boils upon that poor body will 
 need care for many days to come." 
 
 "I will shrink from nothing that may bo needful for his 
 benefit. I should love to go on nursing him, were it only 
 for my sister's sake. How sorry she would feel to be so 
 lar from him, could she but know of his sick:.oss ! " 
 
 " Yes, I believe Lady Farcham would be sorry," answered 
 the physician with a dry little laugh ; -though there are 
 not many married ladies about Eowley's Court of whom I 
 would diagnose as much. X.t Lady Denham, for instance, 
 that handsome, unprincipled houri, married to a septuage- 
 narian poet who would rather lock her up in a garret than 
 see her shine at Whitehall ; cr Lady Castlemaine, whose 
 Jiusband has been uncivil enough to show discontent at a 
 peerage that was not of his own earnings ; or a dozen others 
 1 could name, were not such scandals as these Hebrew to 
 thme innocent ear." 
 
 "Nay, sir, my sister has written of court scandal in 
 many of her letters, and it has grieved me to think lier lot 
 should be cast among people of whose reckless doir-s she 
 tells me with a lively wit that makes sin seem somethino- 
 less than sin." ** 
 
 "There is no such word as 'sinMn Charles Stuart's 
 court, my dear young lady. It is harder to achieve bad 
 repute nowadays, than it was once to bo thought a saint. 
 Existence in this town is a succession of bagatelles. Men's 
 lives and women's reputations drift down to the bottomless 
 
94 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 ; i 
 
 
 
 pit upon a rivulet of epigrams and chansons. You have 
 hoard of that dance of death, Avhich was one of the nervous 
 diseases of the fifteenth century— a malady which, after 
 beginning Avitli one lively caporer, would infect a whole 
 townspeople, and send an entire population curveting and 
 prancing until death stopped them. I som.etimes think, 
 when I watch the follies of Whitehall, that those graceful 
 dancers, sliding upon pointed toe through a coranto, amid 
 a blaze of candles and star-shine of diamonds, are capering 
 along the same fatal road by which St. Vitus lured his 
 votarieo to the grave. And then I look at Rowley's licen- 
 tious eye and cynical lip, and think to myself, ' This man's 
 father perished on the scalfold ; this man's lovely ances- 
 tress paid the penalty of her manifold treacheries after six- 
 teen years' imprisonment ; this man has passed through 
 the Jaws of death, has left his country a fugitive and a 
 pauper, has returned as if by a miracle, carried back to a 
 throne upon the hearts of his people ; and behold him now 
 — saunterer, sybarite, sensualist— strolling through life, 
 without one noble aim or one virtuous instinct ; a king 
 Avho traffics in the pride and honor of his country, and 
 would sell her most precious possessions, level her strongest 
 defenses, if his cousin and patron t'other side of the Chan- 
 nel would but bid high enough.' But a plague on my 
 tongue, dear lady, that it must always be Avagging. Not 
 one word more, save for instructions." 
 
 Dr. Ilodgkin loved talking even better than he loved a 
 fee, and he alloAved himself a physician's license to bo 
 prosy ; but ho now proceeded to give minute directions for 
 the treatment of the patient— the poultices and stoups and 
 lotions which were to reduce the external indications of the 
 contagion, the medicines which were to be given at inter- 
 vals during the night. Medicine in those days left very 
 little to nature, and if patients perished it was seldom for 
 want of drugs and medicaments, 
 
A Ministering Angel. 95 
 
 "The servant I scud you will hrln^' meat and all needful 
 herbs for making a strong broth, with whi(!h you will feed 
 the patient once an hour. There are nuiny wlio hold with 
 the boiling of gold in such a broth, but I will not enter 
 upon the merits of aurum potabilo as a fortifiant. I take 
 it that in this case you will find beef and mutton serve your 
 turn. I shall send you from my own larder as much beef 
 as Avill suffice for to-night's use, and to-morrow your serv- 
 ant must go to the place where the country people sell 
 their goods, butchers' meat, poultry, and garden-stuff; 
 for the butcher's shops of London arc nearly all closed, 
 and people scent contagion in any intercourse Avith their 
 fellow-citizens. You will liave therefore to look to the 
 country people for your supplies ; but of all this my own 
 man will give you information. So now, good-night, 
 sweef young lady. It is on the stroke of nine. Before 
 eleven you shall have those who will help and protect you. 
 Meanwhile you had best go downstairs with me, and lock 
 and bolt the great door leading into the garden, which I 
 found ajar." 
 
 ** There is the door facing the river, too, by which I en- 
 tered." 
 
 " Ay, that should bo barred also. Keep a good heart, 
 madam. Before eleven you shall have a sturdy Avatchman 
 on the premises." 
 
 Angela took r, lighted candle and followed the physician 
 through the great empty rooms, and down the echoing 
 staircase, under the ceiling where Jove, with upraised 
 goblet drank to his queen, Avhile all the galaxy of the Greek 
 pantheon circled his imperial throne. Upon how many a 
 festal procession had those Olympians looked down since 
 that famous house-warming, when the colors Avere fresh 
 from the painter's brush, and when the third Lord Fare- 
 ham/s friend and gossip, King James, deigned to witness 
 the representation of Jonson's " Time Vindicated/' enacted 
 
 
96 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 'Ah 
 
 by ladies and gcntlomoii of quality, in the great saloon— a 
 performance which, with the banquet and confectionary 
 brought from Paris, and " the sweet waters which came 
 down the room like a shower from heaven," as one wrote 
 who was present at that splendid entertainment, and the 
 feux d artifice on the river, cost his lordship a year's in- 
 come, but stamped him at once a fine gentleman. Had he 
 been a trifle handsomer, and somewhat softer of speech, 
 that masque and banquet might have placed Eichard Revel, 
 Baron Fareham, in the front rank of royal favorites ; but 
 the Revels were always a black-visaged"^ race, with more 
 force than comeliness in their countenances, and more gall 
 than honey upon their tongues. 
 
 Upon many a dance and many a feast had those smirk- 
 ing deities looked down, and sometimes, too, upon the 
 crowd going up a staircase hung with black to the chapello 
 ardente, where the lord of the house lay in state, splendid 
 in velvet and ermine and jeweled orders. They had smiled 
 their invariable smile on the coffins of little children, 
 covered with crimson velvet, emblazoned with arms and 
 ciphers, rich and dainty as jewel-caskets, carried away to 
 the darkness of the family vault. They had looked on 
 bridal trains and Twelfth Night kings, the frolics of chil- 
 dren, the sport of lovers. They had looked before now 
 upon the anguish of a plague-stricken city, in that ill- 
 omened beginning of the late king's reign ; but never be- 
 fore upon a house given over to rats and solitude. And 
 still Apollo twanged his lyre, and Jove held up his goblet, 
 as Ganymede hung over him with the golden tankard, and 
 all the simpering throng of goddesses fawned upon their 
 sovereign ruler, gorgeous in vivid color, as in that upper 
 chamber at Florence, in the palace of the Ricardi. 
 
 On either side the staircase gods and demi-gods in marble 
 stood pale and solemn in the gloom, like the risen dead- 
 Apollo, Diana, Mercury, Venus, Psyche— statues which 
 
A Ministering 
 
 Angel. 
 
 97 
 
 Lord Ffirelmm hud bought in his Italian travels, the spoil 
 of Caracalla'a Baths and Noro's Golden House. How 
 ghastly these triumphs of ancient art looked in the light 
 of a single candle ! Angela shivered as she passed thorn 
 on her return journey, after having bade good-night to tho 
 pleasant old doctor, and barred the two great doors— no 
 easy task for feminine hands. There Avas a bell at each 
 door, which rang loud enough to bo heard even in Lord 
 Fareham's distant chamber, Dr. Hodgkin told her ; so she 
 would be duly apprised of the coming of those who were 
 to share her watch. 
 
 It was past eleven before the expected succor arrived, 
 and in the interval Lord Fareham had awakened once, 
 and had swallowed a composing draught, luiving apparently 
 but little consciousness of tho hand that administered it. 
 At twenty minutes past eleven Angela heard the bell ring, 
 and ran blithely down the now familiar staircase to open 
 tho garden door, outside which she found a middle-aged 
 woman and a tall sturdy young man, each carrying a 
 bundle. These were tho nurse and tho watchman sent by 
 Dr. Hodgkin. The woman gave Angela a slip of paper 
 from the doctor, by way of introduction. 
 
 " You will find Bridget Basset a worthy woman, and 
 able to turn her hand to anything ; and Thomas Stokes 
 is an honest serviceable youth, whom you may trust upon 
 the premises, till some of his lordship's servants can be 
 sent from Chilton Abbey, where I taKe it there is a large 
 staff." 
 
 It was with an unspeakable relief that Angela welcomed 
 these humble friends. The silence of the great empty 
 house had been weighing upon her spirits until the sense 
 of solitude and helplessness had grown almost unbearable. 
 Again and again she had watched Lord Fareham turn his 
 feverish head upon his pillow, while his parched lips moved 
 in inarticulate mutterings, and she had thought of what 
 
 7 
 
 « ii 
 
I 
 
 'I fl 
 
 98 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 Bho slionld do if u stronger delirium Avero to possess him, 
 and ho were to try and do himself some nilsehief. If ho 
 wore to Hturt up from his hod and rush through the empty 
 rooms, or hurst opi'u one of yonder lofty casements and 
 lliug himself headlong to the terrace helow ! She had heen 
 told of the terrihlo things that phigue-patients had done 
 to themselves in their agony ; how they had run naked into 
 the streets to perish on the stones of the highway ; how 
 they had gashed themselves with knives ; or set fire to their 
 hed-elothes, seeking any escape from the agonies of that 
 foul disease. She knew that those burning plague-spots, 
 which her hands had dressed, must cause a continual tor- 
 ment that might wear o^t the patience of a saint ; and as 
 the dark face turned on the tumbled pillow, she saw by the 
 cleiudied teeth and writhing lips, and the convulsive frown 
 of the strongly marked brows, that even in delirium the 
 sulferer was struggling to restrain all unmanly expression 
 of his agony. But now, at least, there would be this 
 strong, capal)le woman to share in the h>ng night watch ; 
 and if the sufferer grew desperate there would be three pair 
 of hands to protect him from his own fury. 
 
 She made her arrangements promptly and decisively. 
 Mrs. Basset was to stay all night with her in the patient's 
 chamber, with such needful intervals of rest as each might 
 take without leaving the sick-room ; and Stokes was first 
 to see to the fastening of the various basement doors, and 
 to assure himself that there was no one hidden either in the 
 cellars or on the ground floor ; also to examine all upper 
 chambers, and lock all doors ; and was then to make him- 
 self a bed in a dressing closet adjoining Lord Fareham's 
 chamber, and was to lie there in his clothes, ready to help 
 at any hour of the night, should help be wanted. 
 
 And so began Angela's first night-watch by the bedside 
 of her brother-in-law, the man whom she had pictured to 
 herself so vividly as she read of him in her sister's letters, 
 
Between London And Oxford. ^^ 
 
 the uncourtly sol.TVr whose ohuructor Hcon.ed to stand out 
 •th H ,,i,,„ ^„,.^,^, ^^^^^^^ ^,^^^ intri.n ! au 
 
 childish vanit.es of pthtee and .lruwi„.-room 
 
 Ihoso dark eyes had never looked uj.on lu-r will, fl.o 
 hght of reason. Would theyover so look ? W<,uld h . 
 bo more to lu-r than a plague-stricken sutferer, or w s t ds 
 siek-room only the unte-chumber to the grave > 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BETWEEN LONlJOx\ AXl) OXFOUD. 
 
 TiiREE nights and days had gone since Angola first set 
 her foot upon ho threshold of Fareham House, and n d 
 that time she had not once gone out into the great "tv 
 where dismal silence reigned by day and night, sfvefo t^^ 
 hideous cries of the men with the dead-carts, (^^dlinl ot L 
 inhabitants of the infected houses to bring out Ir de^ 
 and roaring their awful snmmo> . with as automatic m^n-* 
 ony as If they had been hawk i>, some common nece a " 
 
 til f ^ r '7 '^''' '''' ^*"^ occasionally varied by 
 th hollow tones of a Puritan fanatic stalking' gaunt and 
 half clad, along the .Strand, andshouting some sfntenc o 
 fatal bodement from the Hebrew prophets ; just as before 
 ho siege of Titus there walked through the s\oetVofJoru 
 salem one who cried, MVoe to the wicked city !^' and 
 Whose voice could not be stopped but by death 
 
 In those three days and nights the foulest symptoms of 
 the contagion were subjugated; and those horrible wlins 
 and sores which were the most loathsome features of t 
 corruption were put in the way of healing. Bu the 
 
100 
 
 When The World Was Younffcr. 
 
 i{ mh 
 
 ravages of tho disease hud left the patient in a state of 
 wcaknoas whicli bordered on death ; and Ids nnrses wcro 
 full of apprehension lest the shattered forces of his consti- 
 tution should fail even in the hour of recovery. Tho vio- 
 lence of tho fever was abated, and the delirium had become 
 intermittent, while there wore hours in which tho sufferer 
 was conscious and reasonable, and in those periods of reason 
 he would fain have talked with Angela more than her 
 anxiety would allow. 
 
 He was full of wonder at her presence in that house; 
 and when he had been told who she was, ho wanted to 
 know how and why she had come there ; by Avhat happy 
 accident, by what interposition of Providence, she had been 
 sent to save him from a hideous death. 
 
 " I should have died but for you,'' he said. " I should 
 have Iain here in my corruption, fouler than dead men in 
 a charnel-house, till the cart fetched my putrid carcase. I 
 should be rotting in one of their plague-j)its yonder, beliind 
 the old Abbey." 
 
 " Nay, indeed, my lord, your good physician would have 
 discovered your desolate condition, and would have brought 
 Mrs. Basset to nurse you." 
 
 " lie would have been too late ; I was drifting out to the 
 dark sea of death. I felt as if the river was bearing me 
 so much noarer to that unknown sea with every ripple of 
 the hurrying tide. 'Twas your draught of strong wine 
 snatched me back from the cruel river, drew me on to 
 terra firma again, renewed my consciousness of manhood, 
 and that I was not a weed to be washed away. Oh, that 
 wine I Ye gods what elixir to this parched, bloated, burn- 
 ing throat ! Did ever drunkard in all Alsatia snatch such 
 fierce Joy from a brimmer ? " 
 
 Angela put her fingers on her lip, and with the other 
 hand drew the silken coverlet over the sick man's shoulder. 
 
 ''You are not to talk," she said, "yon are to sleep. 
 
 Slum be 
 
 good 80 
 " I Wi 
 
 for youi 
 
 " Yoi 
 
 speedily 
 
 "JIoi 
 
 pastures 
 
 but oh, 
 
 poisouoi 
 
 infectioi 
 
 stricken 
 
 tho nigl 
 
 doomed. 
 
 "I ha 
 
 have nui 
 
 "And 
 
 gii'l, it 
 
 azure ve 
 
 mortals 1 
 
 " AVill 
 
 proac'h, i 
 
 comforta 
 
 imaginati 
 
 She ha( 
 
 had yet s( 
 
 a state o 
 
 tempted i 
 
 pnt on he 
 
 horrors o 
 
 given her 
 
 It was 1 
 
 the blue c 
 
 silent rive 
 
 wherries, 
 
Rctwccn London And Oxford. loi 
 
 SlumW is to bo your (lift und your niedicino, after tlmt 
 good Hoiip lit wliich you niuko siicli u wry face/' 
 
 "I would swallow tho Htiiir wero it Locustu'a hell-hroth 
 for your Hid<o/' * 
 
 " You will take it for wisdom's sake that you may mend 
 Bpeeddy, atul go ]ionu> to my .sister/' said Ang(.la. 
 
 " nonio, yes ! It will be bliss inetlaljle to boo flowerv 
 pastures a.ul wooded hills after this pest-haunted town ; 
 but oh, Angela, mine angel, why d„st thou linger in this 
 poiso,u)uschand.er, where every breath of mine exhales 
 infeetu^n i Why do yon not fly while you are still un- 
 stricken i Truly the plague-fiend cometh as a thief in 
 the night. To-day you are safe, to-night you may bo 
 doomed. ^ 
 
 *a have no fear, sir. You are not the first iiatient I 
 have nursed." 
 
 ''And thou fanciest thyself pestilence-proof! Sweet 
 gn-1, It may be that the divine lymph which fills those 
 azure veins has no affinity with poisons that slay ru.Ie 
 mortals like myself." 
 
 "Will you ever be talking?" she said with grave re- 
 proach, and left him to the care of .Mrs. Basset, whose 
 comfortable and stolid personality did not stimulate his 
 imagination. 
 
 .She had a strong desire to explore that city of which she 
 had yet seen so little, and her patient being now arrived at 
 a state of his disorder when it was best for him to be 
 tempted to prolonged slumbers by silence and solitude, she 
 put on her hood and gloves and went out alone to see' the 
 horrors of the deserted streets, of which nurse Basset had 
 given her so appalling a i)icture. 
 
 It was four o'clock, and the afternoon was at its hottest ; 
 the blue of a cloudless sky was reflected in the blue of the' 
 silent river where instead of the flotilla of gaylv painted 
 wherries, the procession of gilded barges, the music and 
 
 'i 
 
 V 'I 
 
^ 
 
 !1 , 
 
 i: 
 
 Ml 
 
 Jill 
 
 102 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 song, the ccuselcss traffic of court and city, there was 
 only the faint ripplo of the stream, or here and there a 
 solitary barque creeping slowly down the tide with ineffect- 
 ual sail flapping in the sultry atmosphere. That unusual 
 calm which had marked this never-to-be-forgotten year, 
 from the beginning of spring, was yet unbroken, and the 
 silent city lay like a great ship becalmed on a tropical ocean ; 
 the same dead silence ; the same cruel smiling sky above ; 
 the same hopeless submission to fate in every soul on 
 board that death-ship. How would those poor dying 
 creatures, panting out their latest breath in sultry airless 
 chambers, have welcomed the rush of rain, the cool freshness 
 of a strong wind blowing along those sun-baked streets, 
 sweeping away the polluted dust, dispersing noxious 
 odors, bringing the pure scents of far-off woodlands, of 
 hillside heather and autumn gorse, the sweetness of the 
 country across the corruption of the to\r.i. But at this 
 dreadful season, when storm and rain Avould have been 
 welcomed with passionate thanksgiving, the skies were brass 
 and the ground arid and fiery as the sands of the Arabian 
 desert, while even the grass that grew in the streets, 
 where last year multitudinous feet had trodden, sickened 
 as it grew, and faded speedily from green to yellow. 
 
 Pausing on the garden terrace to survey the prospect 
 before she descended to the street, Angela thought of that 
 river as her imagination had depicted it, after reading a 
 letter of Hyacinth's, written so late as last May ; the gay 
 processions, the gaudy liveries of watermen and servants, 
 the gilded barges, the sound of viol and guitar, the harmony 
 of voices in part songs, " Go, lovely rose, " or, " Why so 
 pale and wan, fond lover ? " the beauty and the splendor ; fair 
 faces under vast plumed hats, those picturesque hats which 
 the maids of honor snatched from each other's heads with 
 merriest laughter, exhanging head-gear here on the royal 
 barge, as they did sometimes walking about the great 
 

 Between London And Oxford. ,03 
 
 ruM^.t'!!:^''""'.^ ■'•'"« "'""- '-»"- clustered 
 round Jnm on the nchiy carpeted dais in tiie stern, his eour 
 
 press regnant overthc royal licart, i:aIso,dis8oIuto immidont 
 glonous as Cleopatra at Actium ; the w t and o I'y SIm 
 ness. All had vanished like the visions of a dr Imer .^t. 
 there remamed but this morning citv with 1*7.1 V 
 
 do«andd„orsits™tehmeng„:r2g;;ltS 
 lest disease and death should hold eommunion with that 
 poor remnant of health and life Ic S, fl,„ 1 ,"'""" 
 AVnnlrl+l.fl(-f„ + *• - ■ '"^10 i\ tlic affccted town 
 
 W ould that fantastie vision of careless, pleasure-lovimr mon 
 areh and butterfly eourt ever be roalifed againT An»h 
 
 f Z e "°, i " '"™"' *° ''"' '"""-' "'"«' that thtfo ; 
 of those wild years sinee his majesty's restoration was a 
 
 again That extravagant splendor, that reekless 2avetv 
 had borne beneath their glittering surface the eSsIf 
 rum and death. An .angry God had stretched out ffis 
 hand against the wicked city where sin and profa„e,.^s 
 sat m the h,gh places. If Charles Stuart and his cour icr 
 ever eame back to London, they would return sobered a^ 
 ohasened taught wisdom by adversity. The Pnritan 
 spirit would reign once more in the land, and an age o 
 penitence and Lenten self-abasement wo dd suceeef the 
 orgies of the Restoration ; while the light loves „fWh 
 ha 1, the noble ladies, the impudent actresses, would va^, 
 
 a til in the"!- ^"§7'"'' ''''"' ^"""^ '^"^ ™ '^I o 
 faith n the King. She w.as ready to believe that his sins 
 
 were the sms of a man whose head had been turnedTv the 
 
 sudden change from e.xile to a throne, from poverty ^ 
 
 wealth, from dependence upon his Bourbon cousin and 
 
 gi'rrnr"""°'''»'-^'^™^«'<>^-'=^:.- 
 
 No words could paint the desolation which rei..nGd be 
 tweeu the Strand and Whiteehapel in that fataT sCltr; 
 
 ■ I 
 
' ! fi 
 
 I. 
 
 104 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 now drawing towards its nielanclioly close. More than 
 once in her brief pilgi-image Angela drew back, shuddering, 
 from the embrasure of a door, or the inlet to some narrow 
 alley, at sight of death lying on the threshold, stiff, stark, 
 unheeded ; more than once in her progress from the New 
 Exchange to St. Paul's she heard the shrill wail of women 
 lamenting for a soul Just departed. Death was about and 
 around her. The great bell of the cathedral tolled with 
 an inexorable stroke in the summer stillness, as it had tolled 
 every day through those long months of heat and drought 
 and ever-growing fear, and ever-thickening graves. 
 
 Eastward there rose the red glare of a great fire, and she 
 feared that some of those old wooden houses in the nar- 
 rower streets were blazing, but on inquiry of a solitary 
 foot passenger, she learnt that this fire was one of many 
 which had been burning for three days, at street corners 
 and in open spaces, at a great expense of sea coal, Avith the 
 hope of purifying the atmosphere and dispersing poisonous 
 gases — but that so far no amelioration had followed upon 
 this outlay and labor. She came presently to a junction 
 of roads near the Fleet ditch, and saw the huge coal fire 
 flaming with a sickly glare in the sunshine, tended by a 
 lean and spectral figure, half-clad and hungry-looking, to 
 whom she gave an alms ; and at this juncture of ways a 
 great peril awaited her, for there sprang as it were out of 
 the very ground, so quickly did they assemble from neigh- 
 boring courts and alleys, a throng of mendicants, who clus- 
 tered round her, with filthy hands outstretched, and shrill 
 voices imploring charity. So wasted were their half -naked 
 limbs, so ghastly and livid their countenances, that they 
 might have all been plague-patients, and Angela recoiled 
 from them in horror. 
 
 " Keep your distance, for pity's sake, good friends, and 
 I will give you all the money I carry," she exclaimed, and 
 there was something of command in her voice and aspect, 
 
 I 
 
 J 
 
Between London And Oxford. 105 
 
 as she stood before them, straight and tall, with pale, 
 earnest face. 
 
 They fell off a little way, and waited till she scattered 
 the contents of her purse— small Flemish coin, upon the 
 ground in front of her, where they scrambled for it, snarl- 
 ing and scuffling each other like dogs fighting for a bone. 
 Hastening her footsteps after the horror of that en- 
 counter, she went by Ludgate Hill to the great cathedral, 
 keeping carefully to the middle of the street, and glancing 
 at the walls and shuttered casements on either side of her, 
 recalling that appalling story which the Italian choir-mis- 
 tress at the 8acr6 Cceur had told her of the great plague in 
 Milan. How one morning the walls and doors of many 
 houses in the city had been found smeared with some foul 
 substance, in great streaks of white and yellow, which was 
 believed to be a poisonous compost carrying contagion to 
 every creature who touched or went within the influence 
 of its mephitic odor ; how this thing had happened not 
 once, but many times ; until the Milanese believed that 
 Satan himself was the prime mover in this horror, and that 
 there were a company of wretches who had sold themselves 
 to the devil, and were his servants, and agents, spreading 
 disease and death through the city. Strange tales were 
 told of those who had seen the foul fiend face to face, and 
 had refused his proffered gold. Innocent men were de- 
 nounced, and but narrowly escaped being torn limb from 
 limb, or trampled to death, under the suspicion of being 
 concerned in this anointing of the walls, and even the 
 cathedral benchss, with plague-poison ; yet no death, that 
 the nun could remember, had ever been traced directly to 
 the compost. It was the mysterious terror which struck 
 deep into the hearts of a frightened people, so that, at last, 
 against his better reason, and at the repoutod prayer of his 
 flock, the good archbishop allowed the crystal coffin of St. 
 Carlo Borromeo to be carried in solemn procession, upon 
 
'^ 
 
 io6 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 .A . 
 
 18 SL3>I 
 
 the shoulders of four cardinals, from end to end of the city 
 —on which occasion all Milan crowded into the streets, 
 and clustered thick on either side of the pompous train of 
 monks and incense-hearers, priests, and acolytes. But soon 
 there fell a deeper despair upon the inhabitants of the 
 doomed city, for within two days after this solemn carrying 
 of the saintly remains, the death-rate had tripled, and there 
 was scarce a house in which the contagion had not entered. 
 Then it was said that the anointers had been in active work 
 in the midst of the crow^l, and had been busiest in the 
 public squares where the bearers of the crystal coffin halted 
 for a space with their sacred load, and where the people 
 clustered thickest. The archbishop had foreseen the 
 danger of this gathering of the people, many but just re- 
 covering from the disease, many infected and unconscious 
 of their state ; but his flock saw only the handiwork of the 
 fiend in this increase of evil. 
 
 In Protestant London there had been less inclination to 
 superstition, yet even here a comet which, under ordinary 
 circumstances would have appeared but as other comets, 
 was thought to wear the shape of the fiery sword stretched 
 over the city in awful threatening. 
 
 Full of pity and of gi-avest, saddest thoughts, the lonely 
 girl walked through the lonely town to that part of the 
 city where the streets were narrowest, a labyrinth of lanes 
 and alleys, with a church-tower or steeple rising up amidst 
 the crowded dAvellings at almost every point to which the 
 eye looked. Angela wondered at the sight of so many fine 
 churches in this heretical land. Many of these city 
 churches were left open in this day of wrath, so that un- 
 happy souls who had a mind to pray might go in at will, 
 and kneel there. Angela peered in at the old church in a 
 narrow court, holding the door a little way ajar, and look- 
 ing along the cold gray nave. All Avas gloom and silence, 
 save for a monotonous and suppressed murmur of one in- 
 
Between London And Oxford. 
 
 107 
 
 visible worshiper in a pew near the altar, who varied his 
 supplicatory mutterings with long-ilrawn sighs. 
 
 Angela turned vith a shudder from the cold emptiness 
 of the great gray church, with its somber woodwork, and 
 lack of all those beautiful forms which appeal to the heart 
 and imaghiation in a Romanist temple. She thought how 
 in Flanders there would have been tapers burning, and 
 censers swinging, and the rolling thunder of the organ 
 pealing along the vaulted roof in the solemn strains of a 
 Dies Irae, lifting the soul of the worshiper into the 
 far-off heaven of the world beyond death, soothing the 
 sorrowful heart with visions of immortal life. 
 
 She wandered through the maze of streets and lanes, 
 sometimes coming back unawares to a street she had lately 
 traversed, till at last she came to a church that was not 
 silent, for through the open door she heard a voice within 
 preaching or praying. She hesitated for a few minutes on 
 the threshold, having been taught that it was a sin to 
 enter a Protestant temple ; and then something within her, 
 some new sense of independence and revolt against old 
 traditions, moved her to enter, and take her phice quietly 
 in one of the curious wooden boxes where the sparse con- 
 gregation were seated, listening to a man in a Geneva 
 gown, who was preaching in a tall oaken pulpit, sur- 
 mounted by a massive sounding-board, and furnished with 
 a crimson velvet cushion, which the preacher used with 
 great effect during his discourse, now folding his arms upon 
 it and leaning forward to argue familiarly with his flock, 
 now stretching a long lean arm above it to point a denounc- 
 ing finger at the sinners below, anon belaboring it severely 
 in the passion of his eloquence. 
 
 The flock was small, but devout, consisting for the most 
 part of middle-aged and elderly persons in somber attire, 
 and of puritanical aspect, for the preacher was one of those 
 Calvinistic clergy of Cromwell's time, who had been lately 
 
 I- Ji 
 
io8 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 evicted from their pulpits, and prosecuted for assembling 
 congregations under the roofs of private citizens, and who 
 had shown a noble perseverance in serving God under cir- 
 cumstances of peculiar difiiculty. And now, though tho 
 primate had remained at his post unfaltering and unafraid, 
 many of the orthodox shepherds had fled and left their 
 sheep, being too careful of their own tender persons to 
 remain in the plague-stricken town, and minister to the 
 Bick and dying ; whereupon tho evicted clergy had in some 
 cases taken possession of the deserted pulpits and the 
 silent temples, and were preaching Christ's Gospel to that 
 remnant of the faithful which feared not to assemble in 
 the house of God. 
 
 Angela listened to a sermon marked by a rough elo- 
 quence which enchained her attention, and moved her 
 heart. It was not diflicult to utter heart-stirring words, or 
 to move the tender breast to pity when tho preacher's theme 
 was death ; with all its train of attendant agonies ; its 
 partings and farewells ; its awful suddenness, as shown in 
 this pestilence, where a young man rejoicing in his health 
 and strength at noontide, sees, as the sun slopes westward, 
 the death tokens on his bosom, and is lying dumb and 
 stark at nightfall ; where the happy maiden is surprised 
 in the midst of her mirth by the apparition of the plague- 
 spot, and in a few hours is lifeless clay. The preacher 
 dwelt upon the sins and follies and vanities of the in- 
 liabitants of that great city ; their alacrity in the pursuit 
 of pleasure ; their slackness in the service of God. 
 
 " A man, Avho will give twenty shillings for a pair of 
 laced gloves to a pretty shopwoman at the New Exchange, 
 will grudge a crown for the maintenance of God's people 
 that are in distress ; and one who is not hardy enough to 
 walk half a mile to church, will stand for a whole after- 
 noon in the pit of a theater, to see painted women-actors 
 defile a stage that was evil enough in the late king's time. 
 
I 
 
 Between London And Oxford. 109 
 
 but which has in these later days sunk to a depth of in- 
 famy that it befits not me to speak of in this holy place 
 Oh, my brethren, out of that glittering dream which yoii 
 have dreamt since his majesty's return, out of the groves 
 of Baal, where you have sung and danced, and feasted, 
 worshiping false gods, steeping your benighted souls in 
 the vices of pagans and image-worsliipers, it has pleased 
 the God of Israel to give you a rough waking. Can you 
 doubt that this plague which has desolated a city, and 
 filled many a yawning i)it with the promiscuous dead, has 
 been God's way of chastening a profligate i)eople, a people 
 caring only for fleshly pleasures, for rich meats and strong 
 wines, for fine clothing and jovial company, and despising 
 the spiritual blessings that the Almighty Father has reserved 
 for them that love llim ? Oh, my afflicted brethren, be- 
 think you that this pestilence is a chastisement upon a 
 blind and foolish people, and if it strikes the innocent as 
 well as the guilty, if it falls as heavily upon the spotless 
 virgin as upon the hoary sinner, that it is not for us to 
 measure the workings of Omnipotence with the fathom- 
 line of our earthly intellects ; or to say this fair girl should 
 be spared, and that hoary sinner taken. Has not the 
 Angel of Death even chosen the fairest blossoms ? llis 
 business is to people the skies rather than to depopulate 
 the earth. The innocent are taken, but the warning is 
 for the guilty ; for the sinners whose debaucheries have 
 made this world so polluted a place that God's greatest 
 mercy to the pure is an early death. The call is loud and 
 instant, a call to repentance and sacrifice. Let each beat- 
 his portion of suffering witli patience, as under that wis'3 
 rule of a score years past each family forewent a wct-kly 
 meal to help those who needed bread. Let each acknowl- 
 edge his debt to God, and be content to have paid it in a 
 season of universal sorrow." 
 And then the preacher turned from that awful image of 
 
 . !1 
 
3 i 
 
 I 
 
 no 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 mi iinpfvy and avenging dod to oontemplato divine com- 
 pMHsion in tho Hodeonier of mankind — godlike power join- 
 ed with hnnian love, lie preached of (Jhrist the 8avionr 
 with a fullness and a force whieh were new to Angela, lie 
 held up Jiateoninianding, that touching image nnobseiired 
 by any other personality. All those surrounding ligitres 
 Avhieh Angela had seen crowded around the godlike form, 
 all those sulTcrings aiul virtues of the spotless mother of 
 Cod were ignored in that impassioned oration. Tho 
 preacher held u]i Christ erueified, llim only, as the fountain 
 of pity and pardon. lie reduced Christianity to its 
 simplest elements, i)rimitivo as when tho memory of tho 
 Cod-man was yet fresh in themiiuls of those who had seen 
 tho divine eouutenanco and listened to tho divine voice ; 
 aiul Angela felt as slie had never felt before tho singleness 
 and purity of the Christian's faith. 
 
 It was the day of hour-long sermons, when a preacher 
 who measured his discourse by tho sands of an hour-glass 
 was deemed moderate. Among tho Nonconformists there 
 were those who turned the glass, and let tho flood of elo- 
 quence flow on far into the second hour. The old man had 
 been preaching a long time when Angela awoke as from 
 a dream and remembered that sick chamber where duty 
 called her. She left the church quietly and hurried west- 
 ward, guided chiefly by the sun, till she found herself once 
 more in the Straiul ; and very soon afterwards she was 
 ringing the bell at the chief entrance of Fareham House. 
 She returned far more depressed in spirits than she went 
 out, for all the horror of the plague-stricken city was upon 
 her ; and, fresh from the spectacle of death, she felt less 
 hopeful of Lord Fareham's recovery. 
 
 Thomas Stokes opened the great door to admit that one 
 modest figure, a door which looked as if it should open 
 only to noble visitors, to a procession of courtiers and court 
 beauties, iu the fitful light of wind-blown torches. 
 
Between London And Oxford. m 
 
 Thomas, wlicn intcrro^nitcMl, was not cliocrfiil in h\n un- 
 count oftho piitiont'H lioultli (iuriiifr An/^'('Ia's alwonco. 
 My lord had been strangely disordcn-d : Mrw. ItaHwot had 
 found the fevor increasing, and was afearod the gonthiman 
 was rclapHing. 
 
 AngcUi's heart sickened at tlio tlionglit. Tlie preacher 
 liad dwelt on the siuhlen alterutiooH of the diHoasi*, how 
 apparent recovery was soinetinies the ijreciirsor of (feath. 
 She hurried up the stairs, and tiirough the seemingly end- 
 less suite of rooms which nobody wanted, which never might 
 bo inhabited again perhaps, except l)y bats and owls, to his 
 lordship's chamber, and found him sitting up in bed, with 
 his eyes fixed on the door l)y whicji slie entered. 
 
 " At last ! " he cried. " AVhy did you inflict such tortur- 
 ing apprehensions upon me ? This woman has been tell- 
 ing me of the horrors of the streets where you have been ; 
 and I figured ^^ou stricken suddenly with this foul malady,' 
 creeping into some deserted alley to expire uncared for, 
 dying with your head upon a stone, lying there to be car- 
 ried off by the dead-cart. You must not leave this house 
 again, save for the coach that shall carry you to Oxford- 
 shire to join Hyacinth and her children— and that coach 
 shall start to-morrow. I am a madmaii to have let you 
 stay so long in this iiifectcd house." 
 
 '"You forget that I am plague-proof," she answered, 
 throwing off hood and cloak, and going to his bedside, to 
 the chair in which she had spent many hours watching by 
 him and praying for him. 
 
 No, there was no relapse. Ho had only been restless 
 and uneasy because of her absence. The disease was con- 
 quered, the pest-spots were healing fairly, and his nurses 
 had only to contend against the weakness and depression 
 which seemed but the natural sequence of the malady. 
 
 Dr. Hodgkin was satisfied with his patient's progress. 
 He had written to Lady Fareham, advising her to send 
 
 'id 
 

 112 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 Bonio of her servants with horses for his lordship's coach, 
 and to provide for relays of post-horses between London 
 and Oxfordshire, a matter of easier accomplishment than 
 it would have been in the earlier summer, when all the 
 quality were Hying to the country, and post-horses were at 
 a premium. Now tliere were but few people of rank or 
 standing Avho had the courage to stay in town, like the 
 Archbishop, who had not left Lambeth, or the stout old 
 Duke of Albemarle, at the cock-pit, who feared the pesti- 
 lence no more than he feared sword or cannon. 
 
 Two of his lordship's lackeys, and his Oxfordshire major- 
 domo, and clork of the kitchen, arrived a week after 
 Angela's landing, bringing loving letters from Hyacinth to 
 her husband and sister. The physician had so written as 
 not to warn the wife. She had been told that her husband 
 had been ill, but was iu a fair way to recovery, and would 
 post to Oxfordshire as soon as ho was strong enough for the 
 journey, carrying his sister-in-law with him, and lying at 
 the accustomed inn at High Wickham, or perchance rest- 
 ing two nights and sjjcnding three dajs upon the road. 
 
 That was a happy day for Angela when her patient was 
 well enough to start on his journey. She had been long- 
 ing to see her sister and the children, longing still more 
 intensely to escape from the horror of that house, where 
 death had seemed to lie in ambush behind the tapestry 
 hangings, and Avhere few of her hours had been free from 
 a great fear. Even while Fareham was on the high-road 
 to recovery there had been in her mind the ever present 
 dread of a relapse. She rejoiced in fear and trembling, 
 and was almost afraid to believe physician and nurse when 
 they assured her that all danger was over. 
 
 The pestilence had passed by, and they went out in the 
 sunshine, in the freshness of a September morning, balmy, 
 yet cool, with a scent of flowers from the gardens of Lam- 
 beth and Bankside blowing: across the river. Even this 
 
Between London And Oxford. 
 
 "3 
 
 terrible London, the forsukon city, looked fair in the 
 morning light ; her piilucos imd (tliurches, her streets of 
 heavily timbered houses, their i^rojeeting Avindows, en- 
 riched with carved wood and wrought iron— streets that 
 recalled the days of the Tudors, and even suggested an 
 earlier and rougher age, when the French king rode in all 
 honor, albeit a prisoner, at his conqueror's side ; or later, 
 when fallen Hichard, shorn of all royal dignity, rode abject 
 and forlorn through the city, and caps were flung up for 
 his usurping cousin. liut oh, the horror of closed shops 
 and deserted houses, and pestiferous wretches running by 
 the coach door in their poisonous rags, begging alms, 
 whenever the horses went slowly, in those narrow streets 
 that lay between Fareham House and Westminster. 
 
 To Angela's wondering eyes Westminster Hall and the 
 Abbey offered a new idea of magnificence, so grandly 
 placed, so dignified in their isolation. Fareham Avatched 
 lier eager countenance as the great family coach, which 
 had been sent up from Oxfordshire for his accommodation, 
 moved ponderously westward, past the Chancellor's new 
 palace and other new mansions, to the Hercules' Pillars 
 Inn, past Knightsbridgo and Kensington, and then north- 
 ward by rustic lanes and through the village of Ealing to 
 the Oxford road. 
 
 The family coach was almost as big as a house, and 
 afforded ample room for the convalescent to recline at his 
 ease on one seat, while Angela and the steward, a confiden- 
 tial servant with the manners of a courtier, sat side by 
 side upon the other. 
 
 They had the two spaniels with them. Puck and Gany- 
 mede, silky-haired little beasts, black and tan, Avith bulging 
 foreheads, crowded with intellect, pug noses so short as 
 hardly to count for nose, goggle eyes that expressed shrewd- 
 r.ep.s, greediness, and affection. Puck snuggled cosily in 
 the soft laces of his lordship's skirt ; Ganymede sat and 
 o 
 
 4 
 
 V-i 
 
114 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 
 - "I ' ft 
 
 f 
 
 iiUuktsd vit till! Ruiishiiio from Ai, 'Iu'h liip. IJoth snarled 
 at Mr. :M.iniiiiigtr()o, tlio stowurd, and rcsonted tho slightest 
 fiiniilitirity on his ]»:irt. 
 
 Lord Ftireimin's thoughtful fuco brightened with its 
 rare smile — hulf-umuscd, Inilf cynical — as ho watched 
 Angola's eager looks, dcivouring every object on tho road. 
 
 "Those grave eyes look at our Tjondon grandeurs with 
 a meek wonder, something as thy namesake an angel might 
 look upon the splendors of I'abylon. You can romembor 
 nothing of yonder palace, or senate house, or Abbey, I 
 think, child?" 
 
 "Yes, I remember tho Abbey, though it looked different 
 then. I saw it tlirough a cloud of falling snow. It was 
 all faint and dim there. There were soldiers in tho streets, 
 and it was bitter cold ; and my father sat in the coach 
 with his elbows on his knees and liis face hidden in his 
 hands. And when I spoke to liim, and tried to pull hia 
 hands away — for I was afraid of that hidden face — he 
 shook mo off and groaned aloud. Oh, such a harrowing 
 groan ! I should have thought him mad had I known 
 what madness meant ; but I know not what I thought. I 
 remember only that I was frightened. And later, when I 
 asked him why ho was sorry, ho said it was for tho king." 
 
 '•' Ay, poor king ! We have all supped full of sorrow 
 for his sake. We have cursed and hated his enemies, and 
 drawn and quartered their vile carcasses, and have dug usuin 
 out of the darkness where the worms Avere eating i' ra. 
 We have been distraught with indignation, cruel in our 
 fury ; and I look back to-day, after fifteen years, and see 
 but too clearly how that Charles Stuart's death lies at one 
 man's --or." 
 
 " / 1 r . ■ L . 3ll\s r At Bradshaw's ? " 
 
 "N( ?.;:. i; 'V'; his ov/n. Cromwell would have never 
 been h, 'ul ^-"stive, in IIiv, Jngdon Market-place, as a God- 
 fearing yeom:in, had Charles been strong and true. The 
 
 bes*'-. 
 

 Ketwccn I.oiuloii And <')xforcl. ik 
 
 king's weuknoHS wiw Cromwc-H's ()i)i)()rtiinity. If,, rlu^ his 
 own gnivo with fiilso promises, with .shilly-Khully, witi, an 
 nmnituble tiiient for ulwaya doing tiio wrong thing and 
 rlioos.niT Llio wrong roud. Open not bo wide those re- 
 prouoliful eyes. Oil, I grant you, he was a noble kin-, a 
 king of lungs, to walk in a royal procession, to sit upon a 
 dais under a velvet-and-gohl canopy, to rereive ambassadors, 
 and patronize foreign painters, and fulfill all that is si)len. 
 did and stately in ideal kingship. He was an adoring 
 husband-eonfiding to sin.plicity-a kind father, a fond 
 friend, though never a firm one." 
 
 **0h, surely, surely you loved hini ?" 
 " Not as your father loved him, for I never suffered with 
 him. It was those who saerificed the most who loved him 
 be8% those who were with him to the end, long after com- 
 mon sense told them his cause was hopeless ; indeed I be- 
 lieve my father know as much at Nottingham, when that 
 luckless flag was blown down in the temi)est. Those who 
 starved for him, and lay out on barren moors through the 
 cold English nights for him, and wore their clothes thread- 
 bare and their shoes into holes for him, and left wife and 
 children, and molted their silver and squandered their gold 
 for him. Those are the men who loved his memory dearest, 
 and for whose poor sakes wo of the younger generation 
 must make believe to think him a saint and a martyr." 
 *' Oh, my lord, say not that you think him a bad man ' " 
 "Bad I Nay, I believe that all his instincts were vir- 
 tuous and lionorable, and that— until the whirlwind of 
 those latter days in which ho scarce knew what he was 
 doing-he meant fairly and well by his people, and had 
 their welfare at heart. He might have done far better for 
 himself and others had he been a brave bad man like Went- 
 worth— audacious, unscrupulous, driving straight to a 
 fixed goal. No, Angela, ho was that which is worse for 
 mankind— an obstinate, weak man, a bundle of impulses, 
 
Ii6 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 ! , -'V 
 
 Wi 
 
 some good and some evil ; a man who had many chances, 
 and lost them all ; who 'oved foolishly and too well, and 
 lot himself be ruled by a wife who could not rule herself. 
 Blind impulse, passionate folly were sailing the State ship 
 through that sea of troubles which couid be crossed but 
 by a navigator as politic, profound, and crafty as Riche- 
 lieu or Mazarin. Who can wonder that the royal Charles 
 went down ? " 
 
 " It must seem strange to you, looking back from the 
 Court, as Hyacinth's letters have painted it — to that time 
 of trouble?" 
 
 " Strange ! I stand in the crowd at Whitehall sometimes, 
 amidst their masking and folly, their frolic schemes, their 
 malice, their jeering wit and riotous merriment, and won- 
 der whether it is all a dream, and I shall wake and see the 
 England of '44, the year Henrietta Maria vanished — a dis- 
 crowned fugitive from the scene where she had lived but 
 to do harm. I look along the perspective of painted faces 
 and flowing hair. Jewels and gay colors, towards that Avin- 
 dow through which Charles the First walked to his bloody 
 death, suffered with a kingly grandeur that made the 
 world forget all that was poor and petty in his life, and I 
 wonder does anyone else recall that suffering or reflect upon 
 that doom. Not one ! Each has his jest, and his mis- 
 tress, the eyes he worships, the lips he adores. It is only 
 the rural put that feels himself lost in the crowd whose 
 thoughts turn sadly to the sad past." 
 
 " Yet whatever your lordship may say " 
 
 " Tush, child, I am no lordship to you ! Call me brother, 
 or Fareham ; and never talk to me as if I were anything 
 else than your brother in affection." 
 
 "It is sweet to hear you say so much, sir," she answered, 
 gently. " I have often envied my companions at the Ursu- 
 lines when they talked of their brothers. It was so strange 
 to hear them tell of bickering ai.d ill-will between brother 
 
Between London And Oxford. 
 
 ii; 
 
 and sister. Had God given mo a brother, I would not 
 quarrel with him." 
 
 " Nor shalt thou quarrel with me, sweetheart; but we 
 will be fast friends always. Do I not owe thee my life ? " 
 
 " I will not hear you say that ; it is blasphemy against 
 your Creator, who relented and spared you. " 
 
 "What ! you think that Omnipotence in the inaccessible 
 mystery of heaven, keeps the muster-roll of earth open be- 
 fore Him, and reckons each little life as it drops off the 
 list ? That is hardly my notion of divinity. I see the Al- 
 mighty rather as the Eoman poet saw Him— an inexorable 
 Father, hurling the thunderbolt our folly has deserved from 
 His right red hand, yet merciful to stay that hand when 
 we have taken our punishment meekly. That, Angela, is 
 the nearest my mind can reach to the idea of a personal 
 God. But do not bend those penciled brows with such a 
 sad perplexity. You know, doubtless, that I come of a 
 Catholic family, and was bred in the old faith ; but I have 
 conformed ill to church discipline. I am no theologian, 
 nor quite an infidel, and should be as much at sea in an 
 argument with Hobbes as with Bossuet. Trouble not thy 
 gentle spirit for my sins of thought or deed. Your tender 
 care has given me time to repent all my errors. You were 
 going to tell my lordship something, when I chid you for 
 excess of ceremony ■" 
 
 ''Nay, sir— brother, I had but to say that this wicked 
 court, of which my father and you have spoken so ill, 
 can scarcely fail to be turned from its sins by so terrible 
 a visitation. Those who have looked upon the city as I 
 saw it a week ago can scarce return with unchastened 
 hearts to feasting and dancing and idle company." 
 
 ^ " But the beaux and belles of Whitehall have not seen the 
 city as my brave girl saw it," cried Fareham. They have 
 not met the dead-cart, or heard the groans of the dying, 
 or seen the red cross upon the doors. They made off at 
 
Il8 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 
 the first rumor of peril. The roads were crowded with 
 their coiiclies, their saddle-horses, their furniture and 
 finery ; one could scarce command a post-horse for love or 
 money. They fled as J ast as Israel out of Egypt, and they 
 have been at Hampton, and Salisbury, and Oxford, dancing 
 and junketing, flirting and spending, and waiting for the 
 poisoned cloud to pass, and the fiery sword to be sheathed, 
 in order to come back to the Park, and the Exchange, and 
 the Piazza, Spring Cardon, and Colby's, and all the haunts 
 that frolic and extravagance have invented for the waste 
 of money, time, and health. The story of the great plague 
 will be as old a tale as the death of Pharaoh's first-born. I 
 have heard my father tell of the pestilence in '25, and how 
 in '26 everybody had forgotten all about it. You see, it is 
 the common folk mostly who are taken, and it is but the 
 number in the Aveekly bill of mortality that appalls the 
 gentry. ' A thousand less this week,' says one. ' AVe may 
 be going back to toAvn, and have the theaters open again 
 in the cold weather.' " 
 
 They dined at the Crown, at Uxbridge, which was that 
 *'fair house at the end of the toAvn," provided for the 
 meeting of the late king's commissioners, with the repre- 
 sentatives of the Parliament in the year '44, and Fareham 
 showed his sister-in-law a spacious paneled parlor, which 
 was that ''fair room in the middle of the house," that had 
 been handsomely dressed up for the commissioners to sit in. 
 
 They pushed on to High Wickham before nightfall, and 
 supped tete-a-tete in the best room of the inn, with Fare- 
 ham's faithful Manningtree to bring in the chief dish, and 
 the people of the house to wait upon them. They were 
 very friendly and happy together. Fareham telling his 
 companion much of his adventurous life in France, and 
 how in the first Fronde war he had been on the side of 
 queen and minister, and afterwards, for love and admira- 
 tion of Conde, had joined the party of the Princes. 
 
Between London And Oxford. 
 
 119 
 
 " Well, it was a time worth living in— a good education 
 for a boy-king, for it showed him that the hereditary ruler 
 of a great nation has something more to do than to be born, 
 and to exist, and to spend money." 
 
 _ Lord Fareham described tlie shining lights of that bril- 
 liant court with a caustic tongue, but he was more indul- 
 gent to the follies of the Palais Royal and the Louvre than 
 he had been to Whitehall frolics. 
 
 ''There is a grace even in their vices," he said. 
 " Their wit is lighter, and there is more mind in their 
 follies. Our mirth is vulgar even when it is not bestial. 
 I know of no Parisian adventure so degrading as certain 
 pranks of Buckhurst's which I would not dare mention in 
 your hearing. AVe imitate them and out-hero them, but are 
 never like them. We send to Paris for our clothes, and 
 borrow their newest words—for they are ever inventing 
 some cant phrase to startle dullness— and we make our 
 language a foreign farrago. Why, here is even plain John 
 Evelyn, that most pious of pedants, pleading for the en- 
 listment of a troop of Gallic substantives and adjectives to 
 eke out our native English." 
 
 Fareham told her much of his past life during the free- 
 dom of that long tete-a-tece, talking to her as if she had 
 nideed been a young sister from whom he had been separated 
 since her childhood. That gentle pensive manner promised 
 sympathy and understanding, and he unconsciously in- 
 clined to confide his thoughts and opinions to her, as well 
 as the history of his youth. 
 
 Ho had fought at Edgehill as a lad of thirteen, had been 
 with the king at Beverley, York, and Nottingham, and 
 had only left the court to accompany the Prince of Wales 
 to Jersey, and afterwards to Paris. 
 
 " I soon sickened of a court life, and its petty plots and 
 parlor intrigues," he told Angela, "and was glad to join 
 Conde's army, where my father's influence got me a cap- 
 
120 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 taiucy before I was eigliteen. To fight under such a 
 leader as that was to serve under the god of war. I can 
 imagine Mars himself no grander soldier. Oh, my dear, 
 what a man ! Nay. I Avill not call him by that common name. 
 He was something more or less than man— of another species. 
 In the thick of the fight, a lion ; in his dominion over 
 armies, in his calmness amidst danger, a god. Shall I ever 
 see it again, I wonder— that vulture face, those eyes that 
 flashed Jove's red lightning ? " 
 
 " Your own face changes as you speak of him,'' said 
 Angela, awe-stricken at that fierce energy which heroic 
 memories evoked in Farchara's wasted countenance. 
 
 "Nay, you should have seen the change in his face 
 when he flung off the courtier for the captain ! His whole 
 being was transformed. Those who knew Conde at Saint 
 Germain, at the Hotel de Kambouillet, at the Palais Royal, 
 knew not the measure or the might of that great nature. 
 He was born to conquer ; but you must not think that with 
 him victory meant brute force • it meant thought and 
 patience, the power to foresee, to combine, the rapid ap- 
 prehension of opposing circumstances, the just measure of 
 his own materials. A strict disciplinarian, a severe master, 
 but willing to work at the lowest details, the humblest 
 offices of war. A soldier, did I say ? He was the genius 
 of modern warfare." 
 
 '' You talk as if you loved him dearly." 
 " I loved him as I shall never love any other man. Ho 
 was my friend as well as my general. But I claim no 
 merit in loving one whom all the world honored. Could 
 you have seen princes and nobles, as I saw them Avhen I 
 was a boy in Paris, standing on chairs, on tables, kneeling, 
 to drink his health ! A demi-god could have received no 
 more ardent homage. Alas, sister, I look back at those 
 years of foreign service and know they were the best of 
 
 life 
 
 my 
 
Between London And Oxford. 121 
 
 They started early next morning, and were within half a 
 dozen miles of Oxford before the sun was low. They drove 
 by a level road tliat skirted tlie river : and now, for the 
 first time, Angela saw that river flowing placidly'through 
 a rural landscape, the rich green of marshy meadows in 
 the fore-ground, and low wooded hills on the opposite 
 bank, while midway across the stream an islet covered 
 with reed and willow cast a shadow over the rosy water 
 painted by the western sun. 
 
 "Are we near them now ? " she asked eagerly, knowing 
 that her brother-in-law's mansion lay within a few miles of 
 Oxford. 
 
 ''We are very near," answered Fareham ; "I can see 
 the chimneys and the white stone pillars of the great 
 gate." 
 
 He had his head out of the carriage, looking sunward 
 shadmg his eyes with his big doe-skin gantlet as he looked' 
 Those two days on the road, the fresh autumn air, the 
 generous diet, the variety and movement of the journey, 
 had made a new man of him. Lean and gaunt he must 
 needs be for some time to come ; but the dark face was 
 no longer bloodless ; the eyes had the fire of health. 
 
 '■ I see the gate— and there is more than that in view '" 
 he cried excitedly. " Your sister is coming in a troop to 
 meet us, with her children, and visitors, and servants. 
 Stop the coach, ilanningtree, and let us out." 
 
 The postboys pulled up their horses, and the steward 
 opened the coach door, and assisted his master to alight. 
 Fareham's footsteps were somewhat uncertain as he wafked 
 slowly along the waste grass by the roadside, leaning a 
 little upon Angela's shoulder. 
 
 Lady Fareham came running towards them in advance 
 of children and friends, an airy figure in blue and white 
 her fair hair flying in the wind, her arms stretched out as 
 Jf to greet them from afar. She clasped her sister to her 
 
i ■ 
 
 4! 
 
 IT J 
 
 31 
 
 122 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 breast even before she sahited her husband, clasped hei 
 and kissed her, laughing between the kisses. 
 
 " Welcome, my escaped nun," she cried. " I never 
 thought they would let thee out of thy prison, or that thou 
 wouldst muster courage to break thy bonds. Welcome, and 
 a hundred times welcome. And that thou shouldst have 
 saved my lord's life ! Oh, the wonder of it ! While I, 
 within a hundred miles of him, knew not that he was ill, 
 here didst thou come across seas to save him ! Why, 'tis a 
 modern fairy tale." 
 
 *' And she is the good fairy," said Fareham, taking his 
 wife's face between his two hands and bending down to 
 kiss the white forehead under its cloud of pale golden curls, 
 *' and you must cherish her for all the rest of your life. 
 But for her I sh. aid have died alone in that great gaudy 
 house, and the rats would have eaten me, and then perhaps 
 you would have cared no longer for the mansion, and 
 would have had to build another further west, by my Lord 
 Clarendon's, where all the fine folks are going, and that 
 would have been a pity. 
 
 " Oh, Fareham, do you begin with thy irony-stop ! I 
 know all your org,".n tones, from the tenor of your kindness 
 to the bourdon of your displeasure. Do you think I am not 
 glad to have you hero safe and sound. Do you think I 
 have not been miserable about you since I kncAV of your 
 sickness ? Monsieur do Malfort will tell you whether I 
 have been unhapjiy or not.'' 
 
 " Why, Malfort ! What wind blew you hither at this 
 perilous season, when Englishmen are going abroad for 
 fear of the pestilence, and when your friend St. Evremond 
 had fled from the beauties of Oxford to the malodorous 
 sewers and fusty fraus of the Netherlands ? " 
 
 " I had no fear of the contagion, and I wanted to see my 
 friends. I am in lodgings in Oxford, where there is almost 
 as much good company as there ever was at Whitehall," 
 
Between London And Oxford. 
 
 123 
 
 Tho Marquis do Malfort Jind Fareham clasped hands 
 witli a cordiality which l)ospokG old friendship, and it was 
 only an instinctive recoil on tho part of tho Englishman 
 vhich spared him his friend's kisses. They had lived in 
 camps and in court togethor, these two, and had much in 
 common, and much that was antagonistic in temperament 
 and habits. Malfort, lazy and luxurious, when there was 
 no fighting on hand ; a man whose one business, when not 
 under canvas, was, to surpass everybody else in the fashion 
 and folly of the hour, to be quite the finest gentleman in 
 whatever company ho found himself. 
 
 lie was a godson and favorite of Madame de Montrond, 
 who had numbered his father among the army of her 
 devoted admirers. Ho had been Hyacinth's playfellow and 
 slave in her early girlhood, and had been I'ami de la 
 maison in those brilliant years of the young king's reign, 
 when theFarehams were living in the Marais. To him had 
 been permitted all privileges that a being as harmless and 
 innocent as he was polished and elegant might be allowed 
 by a husband who had too much confidence in his wife's 
 virtue, and too good an opinion of his own merits to be 
 easily jealous. Nor was Henri de Malfort a man to provoke 
 jealousy by any superior gifts of mind or person. Xature 
 had not been especially kind to him. His features were 
 insignificant, his eyes pale, and he had not escaped that 
 scourge of the seventeenth century, tho smallpox. His 
 pale and clear complexion was but slightly pitted, however, 
 and his eyelids had not suffered. Men were inclined to 
 call him ugly ; Avomcn thought him interesting. His frame 
 was badly built from the athlete's point of view ; but it 
 had the suppleness which makes the graceful dancer, and 
 was an elegant scaffolding on which to hang the picturesque 
 costume of the day. For the rest, all that he was he had 
 made himself, during those eighteen years of intelligent 
 self culture, which had been his engrossing occupation 
 
 !!^l 
 
,'t. 
 
 ) »IL 
 
 124 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 % If 
 ... ,j 
 
 Binoc li'u; fiftociitli birthday, when ho detormined to ho one 
 of tlio iiuest gcntlcinon of liis epoch. 
 
 A ihio gentkMiiiin at the court of Louis had to ho some- 
 thing iiu)re tliuu a liguro steeped in perfumes and hung 
 witli ribbons. His red-heeUMl shoes, liis jieriAvig and can- 
 non sleeves were indisjjensable to fashion, but not jnough 
 for fame. The favored guest of the Hotel do Ihunhouillet, 
 and of Mademoiselle do Soudery's " Saturdays/' must have 
 wit and learning, or at least that capacity for smart speech 
 and pedantic allusions which might i)as8 current for both, 
 in a society where the critics were chiefly feminine. Henri 
 do Malfort had graduated in a college of blue stockings. 
 IIo had grown up in an atmosphere of gunpowder and 
 "bouts rimes." IIo had stormed the breach at sieges, 
 whero the assault was led oif by a company of violins, in 
 the Spanish fashion. ITc had fought with distinction under 
 the finest soldiers in Europe, and had seen some of his 
 dearest friends expire at his side. 
 
 Unlike Crammont and St. Evremond, he was still in the 
 floodtide of royal favor in his own country, and it seemed a 
 curious caprice that had led him to follow those gentle- 
 men to England, to shine in a duller society, and sparkle 
 at a less magnificent court. 
 
 The children hung upon their father, Papillon on one 
 side, Cupid on the other, and it was in them rather than in 
 her sister's friend that Angela Avas interested. The girl 
 resembled her mother only in the grace and flexibility of 
 her slender form, the quickness of her movements, and the 
 vivacity of her speech. Her hair and eyes were dark, like 
 her father's, and her coloring was that of a brunette, with 
 something of a pale bronze under the delicate carmine of 
 her cheeks. The boy favored his mother, and was worthy 
 of the sobriquet Rochester had bestowed upon him. His 
 blue eyes, chubby cheeks, cherry lips, and golden hair, 
 were like the typical Cupid of Kubens, and might be seen 
 
 me. 
 
Between London And Oxford. 
 
 125 
 
 repeated ud libitum on the coiling of the lianqnoting 
 II0U80. 
 
 "I'll warrant this is all flummory," said Fareliam, look- 
 ing down at the girl as she hung upon him. '' Thou art 
 not glad to see mo." 
 
 "1 am so glad that I could oat you, as the giant would 
 have eaten Jack," answered the girl, leaping up to kiss 
 him, her hair flying back like a dark cloud, her active legs 
 struggling for freedom in her long brocade petticoat. 
 
 " And you are not afraid of the contagion ? " 
 
 ** Afraid ! Why I wanted mother to take mo to you as 
 soon as I heard you wore ill." 
 
 " Well, I have boon sinoke-dried and pickled in strong 
 waters, until Dr. Ilodgkin accounts me safe, or I Avould 
 not come nigh thee. See, sweetheart, this is your aunt, 
 whom you are to lovo next best to your mother." 
 
 " But not so well as you, sir. You are first," said the 
 child, and then turned to Angela and held up her rosebud 
 mouth to be kissed. ** You saved my father's life," she 
 said. " If you ever want anybody to die for you let it be 
 me." 
 
 "Gud ! what a delicate wit. The sweet child is posi- 
 tively tuant," exclaimed a young lady, who was strolling 
 beside them, and whom Lady Fareham had not taken the 
 trouble to introduce by name to any one, but who was now 
 accounted for as a country neighbor, Mrs. Dorothy Lett- 
 some. 
 
 Angela was watching her brother-in-law as they sauntered 
 along, and she saw that the fatigue and agitation of this 
 meeting were beginning to affect him. He Avas carrying 
 his hat in one hand, while the other caressed Papillon. 
 There were beads of perspiration on his forehead, and his 
 steps began to drag a little. Happily the coach had kept 
 a few paces in their rear, and Manningtre6 was walking 
 beside it j so Angela proposed that his lordship should 
 
126 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 rosumo his seat in tlio vcliiclo und drive on to hia house, 
 while she Avent on foot with lior sister. 
 
 "1 must go with Ilia lordsliip," cried r.-ipillon, Jind 
 leapt into tlie coucli before lier fiitlier. 
 
 llyacintli put her Mrm tlirougli Anji^clii's and led lier 
 sh)\vlyulorg the grassy walk to tlie great gates, tiio Frencli- 
 man and Mrs. Lettsome following, and unversed as the con- 
 vcnt-hred girl was to the ways of this particular world, sho 
 could nevertheless perceive that in the conversation between 
 these two, ^I. do Malfort was amusing liimself at the ex- 
 pense of his fair companion, llis own Euglisli was by no 
 means despicable, as hq had spent more than a year at the 
 Embassy immediately after the licstoration, to say nothing 
 of his constant intercourse with the Farchams and other 
 English exiles in France ; but he Avas encouraging the young 
 lady to talk to him in Freneh, which was spoken with an 
 affected drawl, that was even more ridiculous than its 
 errors in grammar. 
 
 CIIAPTEE VII. 
 
 :*!; 
 
 AT THE TOP OF THE FASHION. 
 
 Nothing could have been more cordial than Lady Fare- 
 ham's welcome to her sister, nor were it easy to imagine a 
 life more delightful than the life at Chilton Abbey in that 
 autumnal season, when every stage of the decaying year 
 clothed itself with a variety aud brilliancy of coloring which 
 made ruin beautiful, and disguised the approach of winter, 
 as a court harridan might hide age and wrinkles under a 
 yellow satin mask and a llame-colored domino. The abbey 
 w^ Queof those capacious, irregular buildings in which all 
 
At The Top Of The Fashion. 127 
 
 that a honse wad in tlio pu.st ami tlmt it is in the present 
 uro composed into a Iiarnionious whole, and in which i)ast 
 and present are so cannin^dy interwoven tluit it wonld Imvc 
 been diflieult for anyone but an arcliiteet to distinguisli 
 where the improvements and additions of yesterday were 
 grafted on to tlie masonry of tlie fourteentli century. 
 Here where tlio spacious plate-room and pantry U^unn 
 there where walls massive enough for the immuring of re- 
 fractory nuns, and this corkscrew Jacobean staircase, which 
 wound with carved balusters up to the garret story, liad 
 its foundations in a llight of cyclopean' stone steps tiuit 
 descended to the cellars, where the moidvs kept their strong 
 liquors and brewed their beer. Half of my lady's drawing^ 
 room had been the refectory, and the long dhiing-parlor 
 still showed the groined roof of an ancient cloister, while 
 the music-room into which it opened had been designed 
 by Inigo Jones, and built by the lust Lord Fareham. All 
 that there is of the romantic in this kind of architectural 
 patchwork had been enhanced by the collection of old fur- 
 niture that the present possessors of the Abbey had im- 
 ported from Lady Fareham's chateau in Normandy, and 
 which was more interesting though less splendid than the 
 furniture of Fareham's town mansion, as it was the result 
 of gradual accumulation in the JMontrond family, or of 
 purchases from the wreck of noble houses, ruined in the 
 civil war which had distracted Franco before the reign of 
 the Bearnais. 
 
 To Angela the change from an enclosed convent to such 
 a house as Chilton Abbey was a change that filled all her 
 days with wonder. The splendor, the air of careless luxury 
 that pervaded her sister's house, and suggested costliness 
 and waste in every detail, could but be distressing to the 
 pupil of Flemish nuns, who had seen even the trenchers 
 scraped together to make soup for the poor, and every 
 morsel of bread garnered as if it were gold dust. From 
 
 N 
 
128 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 
 
 u • 
 
 that HpiirHo fiiro of tho convont to this RalH.li.isiaii plenty 
 tluH pU.>thoni of m(.at and poultry, hu-o ^nmo pios and 
 olabonitoooiifoctionory, this porpotual too nuich of ovory- 
 thln;,^ was a transition that startlod and shookcul hor. Sho 
 lioard with wonder of tho nunicrous di.uu-r tables that 
 wore spread every day at (■hilton. Mr. Mannit.-tree's 
 table, at whieh the Roman priest from Oxford dined, ex- 
 cept on those rare ooeasions when ho was invited to sit 
 down with the qnality, and Mrs. ITnhboek's table, where 
 tho superior servants dined, and at which Ifenriette's danc- 
 mg-master considered it a privilege to over-eat himself, 
 and tho two great tables in the servants' hall, twenty at 
 each tahlo ; and tho gouvornante, iMrs. Priscilla Good- 
 man's table in the blue parlor nivstairs, at which my lady's 
 English and French waiting-women, and my lord's gentle- 
 man ate, and at whi(^h Trenriette and her brother weresup- 
 posed to take their meals ; but where they seldom appeared 
 usually claiming the right to eat with their parents. Sho 
 wondered as she heard of the fine-drawn distinctions among 
 that rabble of servants, the upper ranks of whom were sup- 
 phed by the small gentry— of servants who waited upon 
 servants, and again other servants who waited on those 
 down to that lowest stratum of kitchen sluts and turnspits' 
 who actually made their own beds and scraped their own 
 trenches. Everywhere there was lavish expenditure— 
 everywhere the abundance which, among that uneducated 
 and unthoughtful class, ever degenerates into wanton 
 waste. 
 
 It sickened Angela to see the long dining-tablo loaded, 
 day after day, with dishes that were many of them left 
 untouched amidst the superabundance, while the massive 
 Cromwellian sideboard seemed to need all the thickness of 
 Its gouty legs to sustain tho '^ regalia" of hams and 
 tongues, pasties, salads and jellies. And all this time the 
 "Weekly Gazette "from London told of the unexampled 
 
 distress in i 
 result of ai 
 away, and 1 
 classes. 
 
 *« What 1 
 asked her s 
 which time 
 ease with ct 
 " Some c 
 of it is cate 
 and hauncli 
 *'0h, sisl 
 am always r 
 you ? " 
 
 " I have ] 
 
 doubt ; for 
 
 there may I 
 
 Anyhow, W( 
 
 "More tl 
 
 " For oui 
 
 waited upoi 
 
 any one to 
 
 had all rush 
 
 romping or 
 
 who are too 
 
 had taken a 
 
 I found mys 
 
 burnt alive, 
 
 over-fed de\ 
 
 " But con 
 
 "They a 
 
 them all uni 
 
 "And is] 
 
 "Who ki 
 
 de vin ' whe 
 
At The Top Of The Fashion. 129 
 
 distress in thiit uniii-tod city, whicli wm but the imtiirul 
 result of nil cpidonno that liad (h-iven all the well-to-do 
 away, and loft neither trudo nor ciuployment for the lower 
 classes. 
 
 " What becomes of that mountain of food?" An^^ohi 
 asked her sister, after her scctoiid dinner at Cbilton, by 
 which time she and Hyacinth had Useomo familiar and at 
 ease with each other. " Is it given to the poor ?" 
 
 '* Some of it, perhajjs, love ; hut I'll warrant that most 
 of it is eaten in the oftices— with many a handsome sirloin 
 and haunch to boot." 
 
 *' Oh, sister, it is dreadful to think of such a troop ! I 
 am always meeting strange faces. IIuw many servants have 
 you ? " 
 
 " I liave never reckoned them. Manningtreo knows, no 
 doubt ; for his wages book would tell him. I take it 
 there may be more than lifty, and less than a hundred. 
 Anyhow, wc could not exist wore they fewer." 
 " More than lifty people to wait upon four ! " 
 " For our state and importance, cherie, we are very ill- 
 waited upon. I nearly died last Aveek before I could got 
 any one to bring me my afternoon chocolate. The men 
 had all rushed off to a bnll-})aiting, and the women wore 
 romping or fighting in the laundry, except my own women, 
 who are too genteel to play with the under-servants, and 
 had taken a holiday to go and see a tragedy at Oxford. 
 I found myself in a deserted house. I might have been 
 burnt alive, or have expired in a fit for aught any of those 
 over-fed devils cared." 
 
 " But could they not be better regulated ?" 
 "They are when Manningtree is at home. lie has 
 them all under his thumb." 
 
 '' And is he an honest, conscientious man ? " 
 •'Who knows ? I dare say he robs us, and takes a 'pot 
 de vin ' wherever 'tis offered. But it is better to be robbed 
 
.s J, 
 
 ^ 
 
 I * if 
 
 130 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 by one than by an army, and if Manningtree keeps others 
 from cheating he is worth his wages/' 
 
 "And you, dear Hyacinth, do you keep no accounts ?" 
 " Keep accounts ! why, my dearest simple ion, did you 
 ever hear of a woman of quality keeping accounts— unless 
 it were some lunatic universal genius like her Grace of 
 Newcastle, who rises in the middle of the night to scribble 
 verses, and who might do anything preposterous. Keep 
 accounts ! Why if you was to tell me that two and two make 
 five I couldn't controvert you, from my own knowledge." 
 ''!> all seems so strange to me," murmured Angela. 
 " My aunt supervised all the expenditure of the convent, 
 and was unhappy if she discovered waste in the smallest 
 item." 
 
 "Unhappy! Yes, my dear innocent. And do you 
 
 think if J were to investigate the cost of kitchen and cellar, 
 
 and calculate how many pounds of meat each of our tall 
 
 lackeys consumes per diem, I should not speedily be plagued 
 
 into gray hairs and wrinkles ? I hope we are rich enough 
 
 to support their wastefulness, and if we are not— why, 
 
 'vogue la galere '—when we are ruined the king must do 
 
 something for Fareham— make him Lord Chancellor. 
 
 His majesty is mighty sick of poor old Clarendon and his 
 
 lectures. Fareham has a long head, and would do as well 
 
 as anybody else for chancellor if he would but show him- 
 
 self at court oftener, and conform to the fashion of the 
 
 time, instead of holding himself aloof, with a puritanical 
 
 disdain for amusements and people that pleasj his betters. 
 
 He has taken a leaf out of Lord Southampton's book, and 
 
 would not allow me to return a visit Lady Castlemaine 
 
 paid me the other day, in the utmost friendliness, and to 
 
 slight her is the quickest way to offend his majesty." 
 
 "But, sister, you would not consort with an infamous 
 woman ? " 
 
 Infamous ! Who told you she is infamous ? Your 
 
At The Top Of The Fashion. 131 
 
 innocency should be ignorant of such trumpery tittle-tattle. 
 And one can be civil without consorting, as you call it." 
 
 Angela took her sister's reckless speech for mere sport- 
 iveness. Hyacinth might be careless and ignorant of 
 business, but his lordship doubtless knew the extent of his 
 income, and was too grave and experienced a personage to 
 be a spendthrift. He had confessed to seven and thirty, 
 which to the girl of twenty seemed serious middle-age. 
 
 There were musicians in her ladyship's household— youths 
 who played lute and viol, and sang the dainty meaningless 
 songs of the latest ballad-mongers very prettily. The warm 
 weather, which had a bad effect upon the bills of mortality, 
 was so far advantageous that it allowed these gentlemen to 
 sing in the garden while the family were at supper, or on 
 the river while the family were taking their evening airing. 
 Their newest performance was an arrangement of Lord 
 Dorset's lines—" Tc all you ladies now on land," set as a 
 round. There could scarcely be anything prettier than the 
 dying fall of the refrain that ended every verse— h 
 
 "Withafa, la, la, 
 Perhaps permit some happier man - • 
 
 To kiss your hand, or flirt your fan, 
 With a fa, la, la." 
 
 The last lines died away in the distance of the moonlit 
 garden, as the singers slowly retired, while Henri de Malfort 
 illustrated that final couplet with Hyacinth's fan, as he sat 
 beside her. 
 
 " Music, and moonlight, and a garden. You might 
 fancy yourself amidst the grottoes and terraces of Sahit 
 Germain.'* 
 
 *' I note that whenever there is anything meritorious in 
 our English life Malfort is reminded of France, and when 
 he discovers any obnoxious feature in our manners or habits, 
 he expatiates on the vast difference between the two 
 nations/' said his lordship. 
 
132 
 
 When, The World Was Younger. 
 
 Mh 
 
 I f* 
 
 hi 
 
 .-^1 
 
 " Dear Fareham, I am a human being. When I am in 
 England I remember all I loved in my own country. I 
 must return to it before I shall understand the worth of 
 all I leave here, and the understanding may be bitter. 
 Call your singers back, and let us have those two last verses 
 again. 'Tis a fine tune, and your fellows perform it with 
 sweetness and brio.^' 
 
 The song was new. The victory which it celebrated 
 was fresh in the minds of men. The disgrace of later 
 Dutch experiences — the ships in the Nore, ravaging and 
 insulting— was yet to come. England still believed her 
 floating castles invincible. 
 
 To Angela's mind, the life at Chilton was full of change 
 
 and joyous expectancy. No hour of the day but offered 
 
 some variety of recreation, from battledore and shuttlecock 
 
 in the plaisance to long days with the hounds or the hawks. 
 
 Angela learnt to ride in less than a month, instructed by 
 
 the stud-groom, a gentleman of considerable importance 
 
 in the household ; an old campaigner, who had a groomed 
 
 Eareham's horses after many a battle, and many a skirmish, 
 
 and had suffered scant food and rough quarters without 
 
 murmuring : and also with considerable assistance and 
 
 counsel from Lord Fareham, and occasional lectures from 
 
 Papillon, who was a Diana at ten years old, and rode with 
 
 her father in the first flight. Angela was soon equal to 
 
 accompanying her sister in the hunting-field, for Hyacinth 
 
 was following the chase after the French, rather than the 
 
 English fashion, affecting no ruder sport than to wait at 
 
 an opening of the wood, or on the crest of a common to 
 
 see hounds and riders sweep by ; or, favored by chance 
 
 now and then, to signal the villain's whereabouts by a lace 
 
 handkerchief waved high above her head. This was how 
 
 a beautiful lady who had hunted in the forests of Saint 
 
 Germain and Fontainobluau understood sport, and such 
 
 pei:formance as this Angela found easy and agreeable. 
 
At The Top Of The Fashion. 133 
 
 They hud many cavaliers wlio came to talk with them for 
 a few minutes, to tell them what was doing ornotdoina 
 yonder where the lioiinds were hidden in tliicket or co).r,ice° 
 hut Henri do Malfort was tlieir most constant attendant' 
 He rarely left them, and dawdled through the earlier half 
 of an October day, walking his horse from point to point 
 or dismountmg at sheltered corners to stand and talk at 
 Lady iarehams side, with a patience that made Angela 
 wonder at the contrast between English headlong eager- 
 ness, crashmg and splashing through hedge and brook 
 and h rench indifference. 
 
 "I have not Fareham's passion for mud," he explained 
 to her, when she remarked upon his lack of interest in the 
 chase, even when the music of the hounds Avas ringing 
 thmugh wood and valley, now close beside them, anon 
 melting m the distance, thin in the thin air " If he 
 comes not home at dark plastered with mire "from boots to 
 eyebrows he will cry, like Alexander, ' I have lost a day ' " 
 Partridge hawking in the wide fields between Chilton 
 and Nettlebed was more to Malfort's taste, and it was a 
 sport for which Lady Fareham expressed a certain enthu- 
 siasm, for which she attired herself to the perfection of 
 picturesque costume. Her hunting-coats were marvels of 
 embroidery on atlas and smooth cloth ; but her smartest 
 velve and brocade she kept for the sunny mornings when 
 with hooded peregrin on wrist she sallied forth intent on 
 slaughter, Angela, Papillon, and De Malfort for her corteo-e 
 an easy.paced horse to amble over the grass with her, and 
 the Dutch fa coner to tell her the right moment at which 
 to slip her falcon's hood. 
 
 The nuns at the Ursuline Convent would scarcely have 
 recognized their quondam pupil in the girl on the gray 
 palfrey, whose hair ilew loose under a beaver hat, mingling 
 Its tresses with the long ostrich plume, whose trimly fitting 
 jacket had a masculine air which only accentuated the 
 
134 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 •. «^ .. 
 
 
 womunlincss of tlie fair face above it, and wliose complex- 
 ion, somewhat too colorless within the convent walls, now 
 glowed with a carnation that brightened and darkened the 
 large gray eyes into new beauty. 
 
 Tluit oi)eu-air life was a revelation to the cloister-bred 
 girl. Could this earth hold greater bliss than to roam at 
 large over spacious gardens, to cross the river, sculling her 
 boat with strong hands, Avith her niece Ilenriette, other- 
 wise Papillon, sitting in the stern to steer and scream in- 
 structions to the novice in navigation, and then to lose 
 themselves in the woods on the further shore, to wander 
 in a labyrinth of reddening beeches and oaks, on which 
 the thick foliage still kept its dusky green, to emerge upon 
 open lawns where the pale gold birches looked like fairy 
 trees, and where amber and crimson toad-stools shone like 
 jewels on the skirts of the dense undergrowth of holly and 
 hawthorn. The liberty of it all, the delicious feeling of 
 freedom, the release from convent rules and convent hours, 
 bells ringing for chapel, bells ringing for meals, bells ring- 
 ing to mark the end of the brief recreation — a perpetual 
 ringing and drilling which had made conventual life a 
 dull machine working always in the same grooves. 
 
 Oh, this liberty, this variety, this beauty in all things 
 around and about her ! How the young glad soul, newly 
 escaped from prison, reveled and expatiated in its free- 
 dom. Papillon, who, at ten years old, had skimmed the 
 cream ofE all the simple pleasures, appointed herself her 
 aunt's instructress in most things, taught her to ride, with 
 the assistance of Paddon, the stud-groom ; taught her to 
 row, with some help from Lord Fareham, who was an ex- 
 pert waterman, and, at the same time, tried to teach her 
 to despise the country, and all rustic pleasures, except 
 hunting — although in her inmost heart the minx preferred 
 the liberty of Oxfordshire woods to the splendors of Fare- 
 ham House, where she was cooped in a nursery with her 
 
>J 
 
 At The Top Of The Fashion. 135 
 
 gouvernante for tlie greater part of lier time, and was only 
 exhibited hke a doll to her mothers line company, or sat 
 upon a cushion to tinkle a saraband and display her pre- 
 coeious talent on the guitar, which she played almost as 
 badly as Lady Fareham herself, at whose feeble endeavors 
 even the courteous J)e Malfort laughed 
 ^ Never was sister kinder than Hyacinth, impelled by that 
 impulsive sweetness which was her chief characteristic, 
 and also, it might be, moved to lavish generosity by some 
 scruples of conscience with regard to her grandmother's 
 wilh Her first business was to send for tlie best milliner 
 m Uxtord, a London madam who had followed her court 
 cus omers to the university town, and to order everything 
 that was beautiful and seemly for a young person of quality 
 
 .IpnH I'Y 1 ^''\ ''"^ ^" "'"^^ "^« ^«« ^"^^^ dearest," 
 pleaded Angela, who was more horrified at the milliner's 
 painted face and exuberant figure than charmed by the 
 contents of the baskets which she had brought with her 
 in the spacious leather coach-velvets and brocades, hoods 
 
 sweet-bags and scented boxes-all of which the woman 
 spread out upon Lady Fareham's embroidered satin bed, 
 fo the young lady's admiration. '< I pray you remembe; 
 that I am accustomed to have only two gowns-a black 
 and a gray. You will mal: , .e afraid of my image in the 
 glass if you dress me like— like " 
 
 She glanced from her sister's decollete bodice to the far 
 more appalling charms of the milliner, which a gauze 
 kerchief rather emphasized than concealed, and could find 
 no proper conclusion for her sentence. 
 
 " Nay, sweetheart, let not thy modesty take fright. 
 Thou sha t be clad as demurely as the nun thou hast 
 escaped being — 
 
 ' And sable stole of Cyprus lawn 
 Over thy decent shoulders drawn,' 
 
 ■ r 
 
 ■'■■s 
 

 II 
 
 136 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 We will have no blacks, but as much decency as you choose. 
 You Avill mark the distinction between my sister and your 
 maids of honor, Mrs. Lewin. She is but a debutante in 
 our modish world, and must be dressed as modestly as you 
 can contrive, to be consistent with the fashion." 
 
 " Oh, my lady, I catch your ladyship's meaning, and 
 your ladyship's instructions shall be carried out as far as 
 can be without making a savage of the young lady. I 
 know what some young ladies are, when they first come to 
 court. I had fuss enough with Miss i Hamilton before I 
 could persuade her to have her bodice cut like a Christian. 
 And even the beautiful Misses Brooks were all for high 
 tuckers and modesty pieces when I began to make for 
 tbem ; but they soon came round. And now with my Lady 
 Denham it is always, ' Gud, Lewin, do you call that the 
 right cut for a bosom ? Udsbud, woman, you haven't made 
 the curve half deep enough.' And with my lady Chester- 
 field it is, * Sure, if they say my legs are thick and ugly, 
 I'll let them knoAV my shoulders are worth looking at. 
 Give me your scissors, creature,' and then with her own 
 delicate hands she would scoop me a good inch off the 
 satin, till I am fit to swoon at seeing the cold steel against 
 her milk-white flesh." 
 
 Mrs. Lewin talked with but little interruption for the 
 best part of an hour, while exhibiting the leady-made wares 
 she had brought, the greater number of which Hyacinth 
 insisted on buying for Angela—who was horrified at the 
 slanderous innuendoes that dropped in casual abundance 
 from the painted lips of the milliner ; horrified, too, that 
 her sister could loll back in her armchair and laugh at 
 the woman's coarse and malignant talk. 
 
 " Ladeed, sister, you are far too generous, and you have 
 overpowered mo with gifts," she said, when the milliner 
 had curtsied herself out of the room ; "for I fear my own 
 incv.me will never pay for all these costly things. Three 
 
At The Top Of The Fashion. 
 
 137 
 
 pounds, I tliink she s Id, was the price of the Mazarine 
 liood alono— and tlicre are stockings and gloves innumer- 
 able." 
 
 •'Mon Ango, while you are with me your own income 
 is but for charities and veils. I will have it spent for 
 nothing else. You know how rich the marquise has made 
 me— while I believe Farcham is a kind of modern Croesus, 
 though we do not boast of his wealth, for all that is most 
 substantial in his fortune comes from his mother, whose 
 father was a great merchant trading Avith Spain and Indies, 
 all through James's reign, and luckier in the hunt for 
 gold than poor Kaleigh. Never must you talk to me of 
 obligation. Are we not sisters, and was it not a mere 
 accident that made me the elder, and Madame de Mon- 
 trond's protege ? " 
 
 " I have no words to thank you for so much kindness. 
 I will only say I am so happy here that I could never have 
 believed there was such full content on this sinful earth." 
 
 ** Wait till we are in London, Angelique. Here we en- 
 dure existence. It is only in London that we live." 
 
 "Nay, I believe the country will always please me 
 better than the town. But, sister, do you not hate that 
 Mrs. Lewin — that horrid painted face and evil tongue ? " 
 
 '' My dearest child, one hates a milliner for the spoiling 
 of a bodice or the ill cut of a sleeve — not for her character. 
 I believe Mrs. Lewin's is among the worst, and that she 
 has made as many intrigues as Lady Castlemaine. As for 
 her painting, doubtless she does that to remind her cus- 
 tomers that she sells alabaster powder and ceruse." 
 
 " Nay, if she wants to disgust them with painted faces 
 she has but to show her own." 
 
 "I grant she lays the s+^^i^ff on badly. I hope, if I live 
 to have as many wrinkles, I shall fill them better than she 
 does. Yet who can tell what a hideous toad she might be 
 in her natural skin ? It may be Christian charity that 
 
 ,s 
 
138 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 1^ 1 r 
 
 ' W^^ 
 
 induces her to paint, and so to sjoaro us the siglit of a 
 monster. She will make thee a beauty, Ange, be sure of 
 that. Por satin or velvet, birthday or gala gowns, nobody 
 can beat her. The wretch has had thousands of my 
 money, so I ought to know. But for thy riding-habit, 
 and hawking jacket, we want the firmer grip of a man's 
 hand. Those must be made by Eoget." 
 
 " A Frenchman ? " 
 
 **Yes, child. One only accepts British workmanship 
 when a Parisian artist is not to be had. Clever as Lewin 
 is, if I want to eclipse my dearest enemy on any special 
 occasion I send Manningtree across the Channel, or ask 
 De Malfort to let his valet — who spends his life in transit 
 like a king's messenger — bring me the latest confection 
 from the Rue de Richelieu." 
 
 " What infinite trouble about a gown — and for you who 
 would look lovely in anything." 
 
 " Tush, child ! Yen have never seen me in anything. If 
 ever you should surprise me in an ill gown you will see how 
 much the feathers make the bird. Poets and playwrights 
 may pretend to believe that we need no embellishment 
 from art ; but the very men who write all that romantic 
 nonsense are the first to court a well-dressed woman. And 
 there are fcAV of them who could calculate with any exact- 
 ness the relation of beauty to its surroundings. That is why 
 wonen go deep in debt to their milliners, and would sooner 
 be dead in well-made graveclothes than alive in an old- 
 fashioned mantua." 
 
 Angela could not be in her sister's company for a month 
 without discovering that Lady Fareham's whole life was 
 given up to the worship of the trivial. She was kind, 
 she was amiable, generous even to recklessness. She was 
 not irreligious, heard Mass and made her confession as 
 often as the hard conditions of an alien and jealously 
 treated Church would allow, had never disputed the truth 
 
At The Top Of The Fashion. 139 
 
 of any tenet tliat was taught her— but of serious views, of 
 an earnest consideration of life and death, husband and 
 chddren, Hyacinth Fareham was as incapable as lier ten- 
 year-old daughter. Indeed it sometimes seemed to Angela 
 that the child had broader and deeper thoughts than^'tlie 
 mother, and saw her surroundings with a shrewder and 
 clearer eye, despite the natural frivolity of childhood, and 
 the exuberance of a fine physique. 
 
 It was not for the younger sister to teach the elder, nor 
 did Angela deem herself capable of teaching. Her nature 
 was thoughtful and earnest ; but she lacked that experience 
 of life which can alone give the thinker a broad and philo- 
 sophic view of other people's conduct. She was still far 
 from the stage of existence in which to understand all is to 
 pardon all. The religion which she had been taught was 
 purely formal, a religion of strict observances and renuncia- 
 tions, frequent fasting, and continued prayer. It was 
 not that simple and broader faith in man's claim upon 
 man which she might have found for herself in the 
 Gospel. 
 
 She beheld the life about her with wonder and bewilder- 
 ment. ^ It was so pleasant, so full of beauty and variety ; 
 yet things were said and done that shocked her. There 
 was nothing in her sister's own behavior to alarm her 
 modesty ; but to hear her sister talk of other women's 
 conduct outraged all her ideas of decency and virtue. If 
 there were really such wickedness in the world, women so 
 shameless and vile, was it right that good women should 
 know of them, that pure lips should speak of their iniquity ? 
 
 She was still more shocked wlien Hyacinth talked of 
 Lady Castlemaine with a good-humored indulgence. 
 
 " There is something fine about her," Lady Fareham 
 said one day, " in spite of her tempers and pranks." 
 
 " What," cried Angela, aghast, having thought these 
 creatures unrecognized by any honest woman, '' do you 
 
I: 1 
 
 if 
 
 140 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 know her — thnt Lady Castlemaine of whom you have told 
 mo such dreadful tlihigs ? " 
 
 " C'est vrai. J'en ai dit des raides. Mon ango, in town 
 one must needs know everybody, though I doubt tliat 
 after not recurning her visit t'other day I shall be in her 
 black books and somebody else's. She has never been one 
 of my intimates. If I were often at Whitehall, I should 
 have to be friends with her. But Fareiiam is jealous of 
 court influences, and I am only allowed to appear on gala 
 nights— perhaps not half a dozen times in a season. There 
 is a distinction in not slunsing one's self often ; but it is 
 provoking to hear of, the frolics and jollities vhich go on 
 every day and every night, and from which I am banished. 
 It mattered little while the queen mother was at Somerset 
 House, for her court ranked higher— an(' was certainly 
 more refined in its splendor— than her son's ragamuffin 
 circle. But now she is gone, I shall miss our intellectual 
 milieu, andAvish myself in the Rue St. Tj.omasdu Louvre, 
 where the Hotel du Rambouillet, even in its decline, offers 
 a finer style of company than anything you will see iu 
 England ! " 
 
 " Sister, I fear you left half your heart in France.'' 
 
 '' Nay, sweet ; perhaps some of it has followed me," 
 answered Hyacinth, with a blush and an enigmatic smile. 
 *' Peste, I am not a woman to make fuss about hearts I 
 There is not a grain of tragedy in my composition. I am 
 like that girl in the play Ave baw at Oxford t'other day. 
 Fletcher's Avas it, or Shakespere's ? ' A star danced, and 
 under that was I box-n.' Yes, I was born under a dancing 
 star, and I shall never break my heart — for love." 
 
 "But you regret Paris ? " 
 
 " Ilelas, Paris means my girlhood ; and were you to take 
 me back there to-morroAv you could not make me seventeen 
 again — and so Avhere's the nso ? I should see wrinkles in 
 the faces of my friends, and should know that they were 
 
At The Top Of The Fashi 
 
 on. 
 
 141 
 
 seeing tlio same ugly lines in mine. Indeed, Angc, I think 
 it is my youth I sigh for rather than the friends I lived 
 with. They were ^ch merry days : battles and sieges in 
 the provinees, parliaments disputing here and there ; 
 Cond^ in and out of prison— now the king's loyal servant, 
 now in arms against him ; swords clashing, cannon roar- 
 ing under our very windows, alarm bells pealing, cries of 
 fire, barricades in the streets ; and amidst it all, lute 
 and theorbo, bout rimes and madrigals, dancing and 
 play-acting, and foolish practical Jests 1 One could not 
 take the smallest step in life but one of the wits would 
 make a song about it. Oh, it was a boisterous time ! 
 And we wei-^ all mad, I think ; so lightly did Ave reckon 
 life and death, even when the cannon slew some of our 
 noblest, and the finest saloons were hung with black. 
 You have done less than live, Angelique, not to have lived 
 in that time." 
 
 Hyacinth loved to ring the changes on her sister's name. 
 Angela was too English, and sounded too much like the 
 name of a nun ; but Angelique suggested one of the most 
 enchanting personalities in that brilliant circle on which 
 which Lady Fareham so often rhapsodized. This Avas the 
 beautiful Angelique Paulet whose father hivented the tax 
 called by his name. La Taulette— a financial measure, 
 which was the main cause of the first Fronde wa^. 
 
 " I only knew her Avhen she was between fifty and sixty," 
 said Lady Fareham, '' but she hardly looked forty, and 
 she was still handsome in spite of her red hair. Trop d'ore, 
 her admirers called it ; but, my love, it was as red as that 
 scullion's we saw in the poultry-yard yesterday. She was 
 a reigning beauty at thr-je courts, and had a croAvd of 
 adorers when she was only fourteen. Ah, Papillon, you 
 may open your eyes ! What will you be at fourteen ? 
 still playing with your babies, or mad about your shock 
 dogs, I dare swear ! " 
 
Ill 
 
 142 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 " I gave my babies to the housekcopor's gruiuldaughtcr 
 last your," said Papillon, much offended, " when father 
 gave mo the peregrine. I only care for live things now I 
 am old." 
 
 "And at fourteen thou wilt bo an awkward, long-logged 
 wench that will frighten away all my admirers, yet no't bo 
 Avorth the trouble of a compliment on thine own accoui..." 
 
 "I want no such stuff ! " cried Papillon. "Do you 
 think I would like a French fop always at my elbow as 
 Monsieur do Malfort is ever at yours. I love hunting 
 and hawking, and a man that can ride, and shoot, and 
 row, and fight, like father or Sir Denzil Warner— not a 
 man who thinks more of his ribbons and periwig and can- 
 non sleeves than of killing his fox or flying his falcon." 
 
 "Oh, you are beginning to have opinions," sighed Hy- 
 acinth. " I am, indeed, an old woman ! Go and find 
 yourself something to play with, alive or dead. You are 
 vastly too clever for my company." 
 
 " I'll go and saddle Brownie. Will you come for a ride. 
 Aunt Angy ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear, if her ladyship docs not want me at home,'* 
 
 " Her ladyship knows your heart is in the fields and 
 
 woods. Yes, sweetheart, saddle your poi y, and order 
 
 your aunt's horse and a pair of grooms to take care of 
 
 you." 
 
 The child ran off rejoicing. 
 
 " Precocious little She will pick up all our jargon 
 
 before she is in her teens." 
 
 " Dear sister, if yon talk so indiscreetly before her " 
 
 " Indiscreet ! Am I really so indiscreet ? That is Fare- 
 ham's word. I believe I was born so. But I was telling 
 you about your namesake. Mademoiselle Paulet. She 
 began to reign when Henri was king and no doubt he was 
 one of her mopt arflent admirers. Doii"L look frightened ! 
 She was alw;i v.s a model of virtue. MademoiselIe°Scuderv 
 
At The Top Of The Fashion. 
 
 M3 
 
 has devoted papfos to painting her perfections nndcr an 
 Oriental alias. She sanrj, she danced, she talked divinely. 
 She did everything hotter than overyhody else, Priests 
 and hishops praised her. And after changes and losses 
 and troubles, she died far from Paris, a spinster, nearly 
 sixty years old. It Avaa a paltry finish to a life that began 
 in a blazo of glory." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 8UPERI0U TO FASHION". 
 
 At Oxford Angela was so happy as to bo presented to 
 Catharine of Braganza, a litth; dark woman, whoso attire 
 still bore some traces < i original Portuguese heaviness ; 
 such a dress — clumw, , ugly, infinitely rich, and expensive 
 — as one sees in old portraits of Spanish and Netherlandish 
 matrons in which every elaborate detail of the costly 
 fabric seems to have been devised in the research of ugli- 
 ness. She saw the king also ; met him casually — she 
 walking with her brother-in-law, while Lady Fureham and 
 her friends ran from shop to shop in the High Stroo' — irx 
 Magdalen College grounds, a group of beauties and a family 
 of spaniels, fawning upon him as he sauntered slowly, or 
 stopped to feed the swans that swam close by the bank, 
 keeping pace with him, and stretching long necks in greedy 
 solicitations. 
 
 The loveliest woman Angela had ever seen — tall, built 
 like a goddess — walked on the king's right hand. Sh^ 
 carried a heap of broken bread in tlie satin petticoat which 
 she held up over one Avhite arm, wliile with her other hand 
 she gave the pieces one by one to the king. Angela saw 
 that as each hunch changed hands the royal fingers touched 
 
 i!'! 
 
144 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 the lady's tapering finger-tips, and tried to detain them. 
 Fareham took off his hat, bowed Ioav in a grave and stately 
 salutation, and passed on ; but Charles called him back. 
 
 " Nay, Fareham, has the world grown so dull that you 
 have nothing to tell us this November morning ? " 
 
 " Indeed, sir, I fear that my riverside hermitage can 
 afford very little news that could interest your majesty or 
 these ladies.'' 
 
 " A fox gone to ground, an otter killed among your 
 reeds, or a hawk in the sullies, is an event in the country. 
 Anything would be a relief from the weekly total of Lon- 
 don deaths, which is otir chief subject of conversation, or 
 the general's complaints that there is no one in town but 
 himself to transact business, or dismal prophecies of a 
 Nonconformist rebellion that is to follow the Five Mile 
 Act." 
 
 The group of ladies stared at Angela in a smiling silence, 
 one haughtier than the rest standing a little aloof. She 
 was older, and of a more audacious loveliness than the 
 lady who carried broken bread in her petticoat ; but she 
 too was splendidly beautiful, as a goddess on a painted 
 ceiling, and as much painted perhaps. 
 
 Angela contemplated her with the reverence youth gives 
 to consummate beauty, unaware that she was admiring the 
 notorious Barbara Palmer. 
 
 Fareham awaited, hat in hand, grave almost to sullenness. 
 It was not for him to do more than reply to his majesty's 
 remarks, nor could he retire till dismissed. 
 
 " You have a strange face at your side, man. Pray in- 
 troduce the lady ! " said the King, smiling at Angela, 
 whose vivid blush was as fresh as Miss Stewart's had been 
 a year or two ago, before she had her first quarrel with 
 Lady Castlemaine, or rode in Grammont's glass coach, or 
 gave her clasf^ic profile to embellish the coin of the realm 
 —the' "common drudge 'tween man and man." 
 
At The Top Of The Fashion. 
 
 145 
 
 " I have the honor to present my sister-iu-law. Mistress 
 Kirkland, to your majesty." 
 
 The King shook luinds with Angela in the easiest way, 
 as if he had been mortal. 
 
 *' Welcome to our poor court, Mistress Kirkland. Your 
 father was my father's friend and companion in the e\ il 
 days. They starved together at Beverley, and rode side 
 by side through the Warwickshire lanes to suffer the inso- 
 lence of Coventry. I have not forgotten. If I had I have 
 a monitor yonder to remind me," glancing in the direction 
 of a middle-aged gentleman, stately, and sober of attire, 
 who was walking slowly towards them. '' The Chancellor 
 is a living chronicle, and his conversation chiefly consists 
 in reminiscences of events 1 would rather forget." 
 
 " Memory is an invention of Old Nick," said Lady Castle- 
 maine. " Who the deuce wants to remember anything, 
 except what cards are out and what are in ? " 
 
 " Not you, fairest. You should be the last to cultivate 
 mnemonics for yourself or for your friends. Is your father 
 in England, sweet mistress ? " 
 
 Angela faltered a negative, as if with somebody else's 
 voice— or so it seemed to her. A swarthy, heavy-browed 
 man, wearing a dark-blue ribbon and a star — a man with 
 whom his intimates jested in shameless freedom — a man 
 whom the town called Rowley, after some ignominious 
 quadruped — a man who had distinguished himself neither 
 in the field nor in the drawing-room by any excellence 
 above the majority, since the wit men praised has resolved 
 itself for posterity into half-a-dozen happy replies. Only 
 this ; but he was a King, a crowned and anointed King, 
 and even Angela, who was less frivolous and shallow than 
 most women, stood before him abashed and dazzled. 
 
 His majesty bowed a gracious adieu, yawned, flung an- 
 other crust to the swans, and sauntered on, the Stewart 
 whispering in his ear, the Castlemaine talking loud to her 
 10 
 
146 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 neighbor. Lady Chesterfield, this latter lady very pretty 
 very bold and mischievous, newly restored to the Court 
 after exile with her jealous husband at his mansion in Wales 
 1 hey were gone; Charles to be button-holed by Lord 
 Clarendon, who waited for him at the end of the walk • 
 the ladies to wander as they pleased till the two-o'clock 
 dinner. They were gone, like a dream of beauty and 
 splendor, and Fareham and Angela pursued their wdk by 
 tlie river, gray in the sunless November. 
 
 "Well, sister, you have seen the man whom we brought 
 back m a whirlwind of loyalty five years ago, and for whose 
 sakewe rebuiltthe fabric of monarchical g^^nt Do 
 you think we are much the gainers by that tempest of en- 
 thusiasm which blow us home Charles the Second ? We 
 
 it th.?:i 1 /'' 'r""'' '' '''' ^^^^^^^^ '' ' -Public ;l 
 life that should have been sacred had been sacrificed to the 
 
 principles of liberty. While abhorring the regicide! we 
 might have profited by their crime. We migl t C ^^^^^^ 
 a free state to-day, like the United Provinces. Do you 
 think we are better off with a king like Eowley, to amuse 
 himself at the expense of the nation ?" 
 " I detest the idea of a republic.'' 
 
 TllI'nnfflT T^"^' *^'' supernatural in anointed kings. 
 Think not that lam opposed to a constitutional monarchy 
 
 landT.? .r' 1 ^'" '"' *^" "^J"^^^^^' ^-' ^hen Eng! 
 land lad with such terrible confusions shaken off all thofe 
 
 shackles and trappings of royalty, and when the ship, so 
 hghtened, hjtd sailed so steadily with no ballast but com! 
 
 be": To'ne tTb ' ''' "'" '^^r * ^ ^''^ '^ ^^^ ^^at l"s 
 been done-to begin again the long procession of good 
 
 kings and bad kmgs, foolish or wise-for the sake of fuch 
 a man as yonder saunterer," with a glance towards the 
 British sultan and his harem 
 
 " England was never better governed than by Cromwell - 
 he continued. -Shewas tranquil at home and victorious 
 
At The Top Of The Fashion. 
 
 147 
 
 abroad, admired and feared. Muzarm, while pretending 
 to be the faithful friend of Charles, was tlie obsequious 
 courtier of Oliver. The finest form of government is a 
 limited despotism. See how Prance prospered under the 
 sagacious tyrant, Louis the Eleventh, under the soldier- 
 statesman, Sully, under pure reason incarnate in Richelieu. 
 Whether you call your tyrant king or protector, minister 
 or president, matters nothing. It is the man and not the 
 institution, the mind and not the machinery that is 
 wanted." 
 
 "I di'T u-^t know you were a republican, like Sir Denzil 
 Warne 
 
 "I aui nothing now I have left off being a soldier. I 
 have no strong opinions about anything. I am a looker 
 on ; and life seems little more real to me than a stage play. 
 Warner is of a different stamp. He is an enthusiast in 
 politics — godson of Ilollis— a disciple of Milton's, the son 
 of a Puritan, and a Puritan himself. A fine nature, 
 Angela, allied to a handsome presence." 
 
 Sir Denzil Warner was their neighbor at Chilton, and 
 Angela had met him often enough for them to become 
 friends. He had ridden by her side with hawk and hound, 
 had been one of her instructors in English sport, and had 
 sometimes, by an accident. Joined her and Henriette in 
 their boating expeditions, and helped her to perfect herself 
 in the management of a pair of sculls. 
 
 ''Hyacinth has her fancies about Warner," Fareham 
 said presently, as they strolled along. 
 
 There was a significance in his tone that the girl could 
 not mistake, more especially as her sisi^r had not been 
 reticent about those notions to which Fareham alluded. 
 
 "Hyacinth has fancies about many things," she said 
 blushing a little. 
 
 Fareham noted the slightness of the blush. 
 
 " I verily believe that handsome youth has found you 
 
148 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 adamant/' he said, after a tlionghtf ul silence. - Yet you 
 might eusdy choose a worse suitor. Your sister has olCn 
 
 See.' ''^"'" ''''• '' ^'"^^^ ^^ ^ ^^^^^ ^"i^e 
 
 dori!'"^" ^?"' ^T^f"^' doesnofbegin to think me a bur- 
 cold uInZ '"":"^^.^^^'" f^l^-^'l Angela, wounded by h s 
 cold-blooded air m disposing of her. '' When you and my 
 sister are ^red of me I can go back to my convent." ' 
 VVliat! return to those imprisoning walls- immure 
 your sweet youth in a cloister ?' Not fo^r the ndfes I 
 jould not suffer suclra sacrifice. Tired of you » Lso 
 
 ouf o? 'T • ' r'n '"^^^^^ "^ '''' '' ' -^- looked i p 
 out of a burning hell of pain and madness and saw an 
 
 angel staiiding by my bed ! Tired of you ! Indeed you 
 
 know me better than to tliink so badlyof me were it bulin 
 
 one flash of thought. You can need L protelTiortm 
 
 me. On y as a young and beautiful woman, livin- in an 
 
 age hat .s full of peril for women, I should like to ^e you 
 
 married to a good and true man-such as Denzil Warnei- 
 
 - but T'm''^ *' f f P'"^* ^''''" ^"^^^^ ^"«^^«red coldly ; 
 but Papillon and I have agreed that I am always to be 
 
 hersrinsteraunt,andamtokeep her house when c'^t 
 married and wear a linsey gown and a bunch of keys at my 
 girdle, like Mrs. Hubbuck, at Chilton " ^ 
 
 '; ^i\^V' 1'!'^ ^'^' Henriette. She takes after her mother 
 and thinks that this globe and all the people upon it 1''; 
 created principally for her pleasure. The Amerilrtn 
 give her chocolate, the Indian isles to sweeten rfoTher 
 the ocean tides to bring her feathers and finery. She S 
 her own center and circumference, like her mother." 
 
 You should not say such an ill thing of your wife 
 Fareham,"said Angela, deeply shocked. "Hya irh i^ 
 not one to look into the heart of things. Sirhartoo 
 happy a disposition for grave backward-reaching thoughts j 
 
At The Top Of The Fashion. 
 
 149 
 
 but I will swear that she loves you— ay— almost to rever- 
 ence." 
 
 :es to reverence, to overmuch reverence perhaps. 
 She might have given a freer, fonder love to a more amia- 
 ble man. I have some strain of my unhappy kinsman's tem- 
 per, perhaps— the disposition that keeps a wife at a dis- 
 tance. He managed to make three afraid of him, and it 
 was darkly rumored that he killed one." 
 " Strafford— a murderer ! No, no." 
 " Not by intent. An accident— only an accident. They 
 who most hated him pretended that he pushed her from 
 him somewhat roughly, when she was least able to bear 
 roughness, and that the aftcr-coiisequences of the blow 
 were fatal. He was one of the doomed, always, you see. 
 He knew that himself, and told his bosom-friend' that he 
 was not long-lived. The brand of misfortune was upon 
 him even at the height of his power. You may read his 
 fate in his face." 
 
 They walked on in silence for some time, Angela de- 
 pressed and unhappy. It seemed as if Fareham had lifted 
 a mask and shown her his real countenance, with all the 
 lines that tell a life history. She had suspected that he 
 was not happy ; that the joyous existence amidst fairest 
 surroundings which seemed so exquisite to her was dull 
 and vapid for him. She could but think that he was like 
 her father, and that action and danger were necessary to 
 him, and that it was only this rustic tranquillity that 
 weighed upon his spirits. 
 
 ''Do not for a moment believe that I would speak slight- 
 ingly of your sister," Faroham resumed, after that silent 
 interval. " It were indeed an ill thing in me— most of all 
 to disparage her in your hearing. She is lovely, accom- 
 plished, learned even, after the fasiiion of the Eue Saint 
 Thomas du Louvre. She used to shine among the bright- 
 est at the Scudery's Saturday parties, which were the most 
 
 
 li 1. 
 
i 
 
 ; 
 
 \u 
 
 150 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 wearisome assemblies I ever ran away from. The match 
 was made for us by others, and I was her betrothed husband 
 before I saw her. Yet I loved her at first sight. Who 
 could help loving a face as fair as morning over the east- 
 ward hills, a voice as sweet as the nightingales in the Tuil- 
 eries garden ? She was so young— a child almost ; so gen- 
 tle and confiding. And to see her now with Papillon is to 
 question which is the younger, motlicr or daughter. Love 
 her ? Why, of course I love her. I loved her then. I 
 love her now. Her beauty has but ripened with the pass- 
 ing years ; and she has walked the furnace of fine company 
 in two cities, and has never been seared by fire. Love her ! 
 Could a man help loving beauty and frankness, and a 
 natural innocence which cannot be spoiled even by the 
 knowledge of things evil, even by daily contact with sin in 
 high places ? " 
 
 Again there was a silence, and then, in a deeper tone, 
 after a long sigh, Fareham said : 
 
 "I love and honor my wife, I adore my children ; yet I 
 am alone, Angela, and I shall be alone till death." 
 
 " I don't understand. '* 
 
 " Oh, yes, you do ; you understand as well as I who suffer. 
 My wife and I love each other dearly. If she have a fit of 
 the vapors, or an aching tooth, I am wretched. But we 
 have never been companions. The things that she loves 
 are charmless for me. She is enchanted with people from 
 whom I run away. Is it companionship, do you think, for 
 me to look on while she walks a coranto or tosses shuttle- 
 cocks with De Malfort ? Roxalana is as much my com- 
 panion when I admire her on the stage from my seat. 
 There are times when my wife seems no nearer to me than 
 a beautiful picture. If I sit in a corner, and listen to her 
 pretty babble about the last fan she bought at the Middle 
 Exchange, or the last witless comedy she saw at the King's 
 Theatre, is that companionship, think you ? I may be 
 
At The Top Of The Fashion. 151 
 
 charmed to-day-as I was charmed ten years ago-withthe 
 silvery sweetness of her voice, with the graceful turn of 
 lier head, the white roundness of her throat. At least I 
 am constant. There is no change in her or in me. We 
 are just as near and just as far apart as when the priest 
 joined our hands at Saint Eustache. And it must be so to 
 the end, I suppose : and 1 think the fault is in me. I am 
 out of joint witli the world I live in. I cannot set myself 
 in tune with their new music. I look back, and remember, 
 and regret, yet hardly know why I remember or what I 
 regret." 
 
 Again a silence, briefer than the last, and he went on 
 " Do you think it strange that I talk so freely-to you 
 —who are scarce more than a child, less learned than Hen- 
 riette in worldly knowledge ? It is a comfort sometimes 
 to talk of one's-self ; of what one has missed as well as of 
 what one has. And you have such an air of being wise 
 beyond your years ; wise in all thoughts that are not of 
 the world— thoughts of things in which there is no truck 
 at the Exchange ; which no one buys or sells at A])ingdon 
 fair. And you are so near allied to me— a sister ! I never 
 had a sister of my own blood, Angela. I was an only child 
 Solitude was my portion. I lived alone with my tutor and 
 gouvernante— a poor relation of my mother's— alone in a 
 house that was mostly deserted, for Lord and Ladv Fareham 
 were m London with the King, till the troubles brought 
 the Court to Christchurch, and then to Chilton. I have 
 had few in whom to confide. And you-remember what you 
 hav. been to me, and do not wonder if I trust you more than 
 others. Thou didst go down to the very grave with me, 
 didst pluck me out of the pit. Corruption could not touch 
 a creature so lovely and so innocent. Thou didst walk un- 
 harmed through the charnel house. Remembering this, as 
 I ever must remember, can you wonder that you are nearer 
 to me than all the rest of the world ? " 
 
152 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 She had seated herself on a bench that commanded a 
 view of the river, and her dreaming eyes were looking far 
 away along the dim perspective of mist and water, bare 
 pollard willows ragged sedges. Her head drooped a little 
 80 that he could not see her face, and one ungloved hand 
 hung listlessly at her side. 
 
 He bent down to take the slende. hand in his, lifted it 
 to his hps, and quickly let it go ; but not before she had 
 felt his tears upon it. She looked up a few minutes later, 
 and the place was empty. Her tears fell thick and fast. 
 Never before had she suifered this exquisite pain-sadness 
 so intense, yet touching so close on joy. She sat alone in 
 the inexpressible melancholy of the late autumn ; pale mists 
 rising from the river ; dead leaves Jailing; and Fareham's 
 tears upon her hand. 
 
 IIM 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 II:' 
 
 i 
 
 m A PURITAIf HOUSE. 
 
 How quickly the days p ..sed in that gay household at 
 Chilton, and yet every day of Angela's life held so much 
 of action and emotion that, looking back at Christmas- 
 time to the three months that had slipped by since she 
 had brought Fareham from his sick-bed to his country 
 home, she could but experience that common feelin- of 
 youth m such circumstances. Surely it was half a lifetime 
 that had lapsed ; or else she, by some subtle and super- 
 natural change, had been made a new woman 
 
 She thought of her life in the convent, thought of it 
 much and deeply on those Sunday mornings when she 
 and her sister and De Malfort and a score or so of servants 
 crept quietly to a room in the heart of the house, where a 
 
In A Puritan House. J53 
 
 their level monotony. ■* ' ™^''" "' 
 
 Could sl,e go back to mch a life a, that ! Go back » 
 Leave al she loved ? Her tren.bling hand was atretled 
 out to dasp her niece Ilenriette, kneeling be do tr 
 Leave them-lcavo those with whom and for whom 8^ 
 
 i^tadttrh;":i:;^'r;"-t^nrh^;r" 
 Li:o:rgt;::^"---- 
 
 Only with one person at Chilton Abbey had she ev.r 
 conversed as seriously as with Fareham nn,! tT T 
 was Sir Den.il Warner, who at flv and' tw nty wasT" 
 .nonsinUswayonookingat serious ttCtC Z: 
 
 business for the majority ! " ' ' '°° P™'"' " 
 
 " What has that to do with ns-the minoritv ' C»n ». 
 smooth a sick man's pillow by pulling a lonf face^ w! 
 shall do h,m more good by tossing hhn a crtwn f'hcT 
 poor; orhelpmgto build him a hospital by the sacrmce 
 of a night's winnings at Aubre. Long faces hein „oZ'V 
 that is what you Puritans will never consider " ^ ' 
 
 ''No; but if the long faces are the faces' of men who 
 
 AnSr:^i;r\ii^ -=et;r ^t^^ 
 
 gentle excuses for his temerity in touching' r3'ol„::S 
 • theme, he ventured to express his abhorrence of tt 
 
I 
 
 Iff 
 
 154 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 superstition interwoven with the Romanist's creed Ho 
 talked as one wlio hud sat at tlie feet of the blind poet- 
 talked sometimes in the very words of John Milton 
 
 There was much in what he said thut appealed to her 
 reason, but there was no cluirm in that severer form of 
 worslnp which he offered in exchange for her own He 
 was frank and generous ; ho had a fine nature, but was too 
 much given to judging hk fellow-men. Ho had all the 
 arrogance of Puritanism superadded to the natural arro- 
 gance of youth that has never known humiliating reverses 
 that has never been the servant of circumstance. 
 
 He was Angela's senior by something less than four 
 years, yet it seemed to her that ho was in every attribute 
 mfinitely her superior. In education, in depth of thought 
 in resolution for good, and scorn of evil. If he loved her 
 --as Hyacinth insisted upon declaring -there was nothing 
 of youthful impetuosity in his passion. He had, indeed 
 betrayed his sentiments by no direct speech. He had told 
 her gravely that he was interested in her, and deeply 
 concerned that one so worthy and so amiable should have 
 been brought up in the house of idolaters, should have 
 been taught falsehood instead of truth. 
 She stood up boldly for the faith of her maternal ancestors 
 "I cannot continue your friend if you speak evil of those 
 I love. Sir Denzil," she said. " Could you have seen the 
 lives of those good ladies of the Ursuline Convent, their 
 unselfishness, their charity, you must needs have respected 
 our religion. I cannot think why you love to say hard 
 words of us Catholics ; for in all I have ever heard or 
 seen of the lives of the Nonconformists, they approach us 
 far more nearly in their principles than the members of 
 the Church of England, who, if my sister does not paint 
 them with too black a brush, practise their religion with a 
 laxity and indifference that would go far to turn religion 
 to a jest/' ° 
 
In A Puritan House. 
 
 155 
 
 Whatever Sir Deiuil's ideas miglit be upon the religious 
 question of creed— and he did not scruple to tell Ancrola 
 that he thought every rai)ist foredoomed to evorlast'in.r 
 punishment— he showed so much pleasure in her society 
 as to be at Chilton Abbey, and the sharer of hw walks and 
 rides, as often as practicable. Lady Fareluim encoura-ed 
 his visits, and was always gracious to him. She discovered 
 that he possessed the gift of music, though not in the 
 same remarkable degree as Hen- :^-> Malfort, who played 
 the guitar exquisitely, and into whose hands you had but 
 to put a musical instrument for him to extract sweetness 
 from it. Lute or theorbo, viola or viol di gamba, treble 
 or bass, came alike to his hand and ear. Some instruments 
 he had studied ; with some his skill came only by intuition. 
 Denzil Warner performed very creditably upon the 
 organ. He had played on John Milton's organ in St. 
 Bride's church, when he was a boy, and he had played of 
 late in the church at Chalfont St. Giles, where he had 
 visited Milton frequently, since the poet had left his 
 lodgings in Artillery Walk, carrying his family and his 
 books to that sequestered village in the shelter of the 
 hills between Uxbridge and Beaconsfield. Here from the 
 lips of his sometime tutor the Puritan hmi heard such 
 stories of the court as made him hourly expectant of ex- 
 terminating fires. Doul^tless the fire would have come, as 
 it came upon Sodom and Gomorrah, but for those right- 
 eous lives of the Nonconformists, which redeem the time ; 
 quiet. God-fearing lives in dull old city houses, in streets' 
 almost as narrow as those Avhich Milton remembered in his 
 beloved Italy ; streets where the sun looked in for an hour, 
 shooting golden arrows down upon the diamond-paned 
 casements, and deepening the shadow of the massive 
 timbers that held up the overlapping stories, looked in 
 and bade ''good-night" within an hour or so, leaving an 
 atmosphere of sober gray, cool, and quiet, and dull, in 
 
 (• 
 
156 Wlicn Tho World Was Younger. 
 
 those obsciiro street, and alleys wIuto tho groat truffle of 
 Cheapsido or Ludgato sounded like the murnn.r of a 
 far-off sea. 
 
 Good pious men and women worshiped the stern God 
 of the Puritans in tlie secret ehambers of those narrow 
 streets, and those who gathered together in these dj-ys-if 
 they rejected the Liturgy of the Church of England-must 
 indeed be few, and must meet by stealth, as if to ,,ray or 
 preach after their own manner wore a crime. > .'hades 
 withm a year or so of his general anutesty and happy res' 
 toration had nuule such worship crimhud ; and now the 
 Five Mde Act, lately passed at Oxford, had rendered tho 
 res notions and penalties of nonconformity utterly intol- 
 erable. Men were lying in prison hero and there about 
 merry England for no greater offense than preaching the 
 gospel to a handful of God-fearing people. But that a 
 Puritan tinker should molder for a dozen years in a damp 
 jail could count for little against the blessed fact of the 
 a\ ay-pole reinstated in the Strand, and five play-houses 
 in London performing ribald comedies till the plague shut 
 tlier doors. 
 
 Milton, old and blind, and somewhat soured by domestic 
 disa])pointments, had imparted no optimistic philosophy 
 to ycnng Denzil Warner, whose father he had known and 
 oved The fight at Kopton Ifoath had made Denzil 
 fathe-les^ ; the colonel of Warner's horse ridingto his death 
 in ono of tho grandest charges of that memorable day 
 
 Deuzd had grown up under the prosperous rule of the 
 Protector, and his boyhood had been spent in the guardian- 
 ship of a most watchful and serious-minded mother He 
 hadbcen somewhat over cosseted and apron-stringed it may 
 be, in that tranquil atmosphere of the rich widow's house • 
 but not all Lady Warner's tenderness could make her son a 
 milksop Except for a period of two years in London, when 
 He had Irvud under th« roof of the great republican, and 
 
In A Puritan House. ,q- 
 
 a docile pupil to a storn but kiud mnstur, Denzil had livod 
 most y under the open slcy, w,ts a keen sportsnuin, and 
 oved tlie country with almost as sensitive a lo;e as 
 his quondam master and present friend, John Milton • 
 and It was perhaps this aj.preciation of rural beauty which 
 had made a bond of friendsh--r, L^. ;een the great poet and 
 the Puritan squire. * 
 
 J^ ^,''\^'^!' '' ^""«^ «^ P« ^'-'S rnr 1 scenes which needs 
 but bo joined with the glr, of T.asic to make you a 
 poet he said, when Dentil .J been expatiating upon 
 the landscape amidst which he had enjoyed his last bout 
 of falconry, m- his last run with his half-dozen couple of 
 hounds. - You are almost as the power of sight to me 
 when you describe those downs and valleys whoso every 
 Bhape and shadow I once knew so well, Alas, that I 
 Bliouia bo changed so much and they so little ^" 
 
 "It is one thing to feel that this world is beautiful, and 
 another to find golden words, and phrases which to a 
 prisoner in the Tower could conjure up as fair a landscape 
 as Claude Lorraine ever painted. Those sonorous and melli- 
 fluous lines which you were so gracious as to repeat to me 
 forming part of the great epic which the world is waiting 
 for, bear witness to the power which can turn words into 
 music, and make pictures out of the common tongue. 
 That splendid art, sir, is but given to the man in a cent- 
 ury-or in several centuries, since I know but Dante and 
 Virgil who have ever equaled your vision of heaven and 
 
 "Do not over-praise me, Denzil, in thy charity to 
 poverty and affliction. It is pleasing to be understood by 
 a youth who loves hawk and hound better than books ; 
 for It offers the promises of popular appreciation in years to 
 
 1 doubt If I Bufxn nnd a bookseller to give me a few pounds 
 for the right to print a work that has cost me years of 
 
 
:, 
 
 ill 
 
 'm 
 
 158 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 thought and laborious revision. But at least it has been 
 my consolation in the long blank night of my decay, and 
 has saved me many a heartache, for while I am build- 
 ing up my verses, and engraving line after line upon the 
 tablets of memory, I can forget that I am blind, and poor, 
 and neglected, and the dear saint I loved was snatched 
 from me in the noontide of our happiness." 
 
 Denzil talked much of John Milton in his conversations 
 with Angela, during those rides or rambles, in which 
 Papillon was their only companion. Lady Fareham saun- 
 tered, like her royal master, but she rarely walked a mile 
 at a stretch ; and she was pleased to encourage the rural 
 wanderings that brought her sister and Warner into a 
 closer intimacy, and promised well for the success of her 
 matrimonial scheme. 
 
 " I believe they adore each other already," she told Fare- 
 ham one morning, standing by his side in the great stone 
 porch, to watch those three youthful figures ride away, 
 aunt and niece side by side, on palfrey and pony, with 
 Denzil for their cavalier. 
 
 *' You are always over-quick to be sure of anything that 
 fulfills your own fancy, dearest," answered Fareham, watch- 
 ing them to the curve of the avenue ; " but I see no signs 
 of favor to that solemn youth in your sister. She suffers 
 hh attentions out of pure civility. He is an accomplished 
 horseman, having given all his life to learning how to 
 jump a fence gracefully, and his company is at least better 
 than a groom's." 
 
 " How scornfully you jeer at him." 
 
 " Oh, I have no more scorn than the Cavalier's natural 
 contempt foi the Roundhead. A hereditary hatred per- 
 haps." 
 
 " Yon say such hard things of his majesty that one 
 might often take you to be of Sir Denzil's way of think- 
 ing." 
 
In A Puritan House. 
 
 159 
 
 " I never tliink about the king. I only wonder. I may 
 sometimes express my wonderment too freely for a loyal 
 subject." 
 
 "I cannot vouch for Angela, but I will wager that he is 
 deep in love," persisted Hyacinth. 
 
 ** Have it your own way, sweetheart. He is dull enough 
 to be deep in debt or love, or politics, anything dismal and 
 troublesome," answered his lordship, as he strolled off with 
 his spaniels ; not those dainty toy dogs which had been 
 his companions at the gate of death, but the fine 'iver-and- 
 black shooting dogs that lived in the kennels, and thought 
 it doghood's highest privilege to attend their lord in his 
 walks, whether with or without a gun. 
 
 His lordship kept open Christmas that year at Chilton 
 Abbey, and there was much festivity, chiefly devised and 
 carried out by the household, as Fareham and his wife 
 were too much of the modern fashion, and too cosmopolitan 
 in their ideas to appreciate the fuss and feasting of an 
 English Christmas. They submitted, however, to the 
 festival as arranged for them by Mr. Manningtree and Mrs. 
 Hubbuck — the copious feasting for servants and depend- 
 ants, the mummers and carol-singers, the garlands and 
 greenery which disguised the fine old tapestry, and made a 
 bower of the vaulted hall. Everything was done with a 
 lavish plenteousness, and no doubt the household enjoyed 
 the fun and feasting all the more because of that dismal 
 season of a few years back, when all Christmas ceremonies 
 had been denounced as idolatrous, and when the members 
 of the Anglican Church had assembled for their Christmas 
 service secretly in private houses, and as much under the 
 ban of the law as the Nonconformists were now. 
 
 Angela was interested in everything in that bright world 
 where all things were new. The children piping Christ- 
 mas hymns in the clear cold morning enchanted her, She 
 
Ul I I 
 
 i6o When The World Was Younger. 
 
 ran down to kiss and fondle the smaller among them, and 
 findmg them hinly clad promised to makc^hem ;arm 
 cloaks and hoods as fast as her fingers could sew. Denzil 
 found her there in the wide snowy space before the 
 porch, pratthng with the children, bareheaded, her soft 
 brown liair blown about in the wind ; and he was moved 
 as a nian must needs be moved by the aspect of the woman 
 that he loves caressing a small child, melted almost to 
 tears by the thought that in some blessed time to come she 
 might so caress, only more warmly, a child Avhose existence 
 should be their bond of union. 
 
 And yet, being both sliy and somewhat cold of tempera- 
 ment he restrained himself and greeted her only as a 
 friend ; for his mother's influence was holding him back 
 urging him not to marry a Papist, were she never so lovely 
 or lovable. ^ 
 
 He had known Angela for nearly three months, and his 
 acquaintance with her had reached this point of intimacy 
 yet Lady Warner had never seen her. This fact distressed 
 him, and he had tried hard to awaken his mother's in- 
 terests by praises of the Fareham family, and of Angela's 
 exqmsite character ; but the scarlet specter came between 
 the I uritan lady and the house of Fareham. 
 
 '' There is nothing you can toll me about this girl, upon 
 whom I fear you have foolishly set your affection, which 
 can make mo forget that she has been nursed and swaddled 
 in the bondage of a corrupt church, taught to worship 
 idols, and to chciLsh lying traditions, while the light of 
 bod s holy word has been made dark for her." 
 
 "She is young enough to embrace a purer creed, and to 
 walk by the clearer light that leads your footsteps, mother 
 If she were my wife I should not despair of winning her to 
 think as we do." 
 
 "And in all the length of England wa^ there no young 
 woman of right principles fit to be thy wife that thou 
 
In A Puritan House. 
 
 i6i 
 
 must needs fall into a snare of the first Popish witch who 
 set her lure for thee ? " 
 
 " Popish witch ! Oh, mother, how ill yon can conceive 
 the image of my dear love, who has no witchcraft but 
 beauty, no charm so potent as her truth and innocency.'^ 
 
 " I know them— these children of the scarlet woman— 
 and I know their works, and the fate of those who trust 
 them. The late king— weak and stubborn as he wa«— 
 might have been alive this day, and reigning over a con- 
 tented people, but for that fair witch who ruled him. 
 It was the Frenchwoman's sorceries that wrought Charles's 
 ruin." 
 
 " If thou wouldst but see my Angela," pleaded the son 
 with a caressing arm about his mother's spare shoulders. 
 
 ''Thine ! What ! is she thine-pledged and promised 
 already ? Then indeed these white hairs will go down 
 with sorrowing to the grave." 
 
 " Mother, I doubt if thou couldst find so much as asingle 
 gray hair in that comely head of tliine," said the son ; and 
 the mother smiled in the midst of her affliction. "And 
 as for promise— there has been none. I have said no word 
 of love ; nor have I been encouraged to speak by any token 
 of hkmg on the lady's part. I stand aloof and admire, and 
 wonder at so much modesty and intelligence in Lady Fare- 
 ham's sister. Let me bring her to see you, mother ? " 
 
 " This is your house, Denzil. Were you to fill it with 
 the sons and daughters of Belial, I could but pray that your 
 eyes might be opened to their iniquity. I . could not shut 
 these doors against you or your companions. But I want 
 no Popish women here." 
 
 " Ah, you do not know ! Wait until you have seen her," 
 urged Denzil, with the lover's confidence in the omnipotence 
 of hir mistress's charms. 
 
 And now on this Christmas Day there came the op- 
 portunity Denzil had been waiting for. The weather was 
 
 Ml, 
 
 'I 
 
 !;ii 
 
 I ' 
 
 r 
 
■f' '.911 
 
 162 When The World Was Youngei*. 
 
 cola and bright, the liuulscupo was blotted out with snow ; 
 and tho lako in Chilton Park oirored a sound surface for 
 thoexcrciso ofthatnovol amusement of skating, an accomp- 
 lishment which Lord Fareham had acquired while in tho 
 Low Countries, and in which he had been Denzil's in- 
 structor during the late severe weather. Angela, at her 
 brother-in-law's entreaty, had also adventured herself upon 
 a pair of skates, and hads])oedily found delight in the swift 
 motion which seemed to her like the flight of a bird skim- 
 ming the steely surface of tho frozen lake, and incompar- 
 able in enjoyment. 
 
 " It is even more delightful than a gallop on Zephyr,'' 
 she told her sister, who stood on the bank with a cluster 
 of gay company, watqhing the skaters. 
 
 ^ I doubt not that, since there is even more danger of get- 
 ting your neck broken upon runaway skates than on a run- 
 away horse," answered Hyacinth. 
 
 After an hour on the lake, in which Denzil had distin- 
 guished himself by his mastery of the new exercise, being 
 always at hand to support his mistress at the slightest 
 mdication of peril, she consented to the removal of her 
 skates, at Papillon's earnest entreaty, who wanted her 
 aunt to walk with her before dinner. ' After dinner there 
 would be tho swift-coming December twilight, and Christ- 
 mas games, snap-drMgon and the like, which Papillon, al- 
 though a little fine lady, reproducing all her mother's likes 
 and dislikes in miniature, could not, as a human child, 
 altogether disregard. 
 
 "I don't care rbout such nonsense as George does," she 
 told her aunt, with condescending reference to her brother : 
 ''but I like to see the others amused. Those vill.Tr 
 children are such funny little savages. They stick tu.'ir 
 fingers in their mouths and grin at me, and call me • Yo- r 
 annar,' or 'Your worship,' and say ' Anan' to everytL.ng. 
 They are like Audrey in the play you read to me." 
 
In A Puritan House. 
 
 163 
 
 Dcmzll wus iu attendiince upon uiuit and niece. 
 
 V^ o°" .'!'"'^ *" '''*"'" '^^^^' '•"' y«^^ "^"«t invent a pretty 
 walk, Sir Denzil," said Tapillon. -I am tired of long 
 lanes and ploughed fields." 
 
 " I know of one of the plcasantest rumbles in the shire— 
 across the woods to the Grange. A,id we can rest there 
 for half an hour, if Miss Angela will allow us, and take a 
 light refreshment." 
 
 - Bear Sir Denzil, that is the very thing," answered 
 P.ipillon, breathlessly ; - 1 am dying of hunger. And 1 
 don t want you to go back to the Abbey. ;ViIl there bo 
 any cakes or mince pic : at the Grange ? " 
 
 - Cakes in plenty, but I fear there will be no mince pies 
 My mother does not love Christmas dainties." 
 
 ^ Ilenriette wanted to know why. She was always want- 
 ing the reason of things. A bright inquiring little mind 
 perpetually on the alert for novelty : an imitative brain 
 like a monkey's ; hands and feet that know not rest • and 
 there you have the Honorable Henrietta Maria Kevel 
 alias Papillon. ' 
 
 They crossed the river, A. ^a and Denzil each takinc. 
 an oar, while Papillon pretenc.d to steer, a process which 
 she effected chiefly by screaming. 
 
 " Another lump of ice ! " she shrieked. " We shall be 
 swamped. I believe the river will be frozen before Twelfth 
 Night, and we shall be able to dance upon it. We must 
 have bonfires and roast an ox for the poor people. Mrs. Hub- 
 buck told me they roasted an ox the year King Ch I'es was 
 beheaded. Horrid brutes-to think that they could eat at 
 such a time ! If they had been sorry they would not have 
 wanted beef." 
 
 Hadley Grange, commonly known as the Grange, was in 
 every detail the antithesis of Chilton Abbey. At the Ab- 
 bey the eye was dazzled, the mind was bewildered, by an 
 excess of splendor— an overmuch of everything gorgeous 
 
 ! • ■ ■, i-. 
 
iV] '1 
 
 164 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 or beautiful. At the Grunge sight and mind were resiod 
 by the low tone of color, the Quaker-like precision of turm, 
 All the furniture in the house was Elizabethan, plain, non- 
 derous, the conscientious work of Oxfordshire mpchanics 
 On one side of the house th to was a iowling green, on 
 tlie other a physic garden, where odors of medicinal 
 herbs, chamomile, fennel, rosemary, rue. hui^g ever oi the 
 surrounding air. Tliere was nothing modern ai Ludy 
 Warner's l.on.'^:e but the spotless cleanliness ; the perfun-o 
 of la«t suir ner's -joses and lavender ; the polished surface 
 of table and oabiir is, oak chests and oak floors, testifyin*^ 
 to the inexor..;.^. indu:^try of rustic housemaid:^ In all 
 other respects !Lt Orange was like a house that iiad just 
 awakened from a century of sleep. 
 
 Lady Warner rose from her high-backed chair by the 
 chimney corner in the oak parlor, and laid aside the book 
 she hud been reading, to welcome her son, startled at soeincr 
 him followed by a tall fair girl in a black mantle and 
 hood, and a little slip of a thing, with bright dark eves and 
 small determined face, pert, pointed, interrogativc^framed 
 m swansdown— a small aerial figure in a white cloth 
 cloak, and a scarlet brocade frock, under which two little 
 red shoes danced into the room. 
 
 '' Mother, I have brought Mrs. Angela Kirkland and 
 her niece to visit you this Christmas morning.'' 
 
 " Mrs. Kirkland and her niece are welcome,'' and Lady 
 Warner made a deep curtsey, not like one of Lady Fareham'a 
 sinking curtseys, as, of one near swooning in an ecstasy of 
 politeness, but dignified and inflexible, straight down and 
 straight up again. 
 
 ''But as for Christmas, 'tis one of those superstitious 
 observances which I have ever associated with a cl- ■ ^ I 
 abhor." 
 
 Denzil reddened 1; :^usly. To have brougj ipon 
 
 his beloved ! 
 
In A Puritan Mouse. 
 
 165 
 
 Angola drew herself up, and paled at the unexpected 
 assault. The brutality of it was startling, though sho 
 knew, from Donzil's opinions, that his mother must be an 
 enemy of her faith. 
 
 " Iiuleed, madam, I am sorry that anybody in England 
 should think it an ill thing to celebrate the birthday of 
 our Redeemer and Lord,*' sho said. 
 
 " Do you think, young lady, that foolish romping games, 
 
 and huge chines of beef, and smoking ale made luscious 
 
 with spices and roasted pippins, and carol-singing and 
 
 play-acting, can bo the proper honoring of Ilim who was 
 
 God first and forever, and man only for one brief interval 
 
 in Ills eternal existence ? To keep God's birthday with 
 
 drunken rioting ! What blasphemy ! If you can think that 
 
 there IS not more of profanencss than piety in such sensual 
 
 revelries-why, it is that you do not know how to think 
 
 You would have learnt to reason better had you known 
 
 that sweet poet and musician, and true thinker, Mr John 
 
 Milton, with whom it was my privilege to converse fre- 
 
 quently during my husband's lifetime, and afterwards when 
 
 he condescended to accept my son for his pupil, and spent 
 
 three days and nights under this roof." 
 
 '' Mr. Milton is still at Chalfont, mother. So you may 
 hope to see him again with a less journey than to London " 
 said Denzil, seizing the first chance at a change in the 
 conversation, "and hero is little miss to whom I have 
 promised a light collation, with some of your Jersey 
 milk." •' 
 
 " They shall have the best I can provide. The larder 
 will furnish something acceptable, I doubt not, although I 
 and my household observe this day as a fast." 
 
 "What, madam, are you sorry that Jesus Christ was 
 born to-day ?" asked Papillon. 
 
 " I am sorry for my sins, little mistress, and for the sins 
 of all mankind, which nothing but His blood could wash 
 
 ■ff 
 
i66 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 away. To remember Ilis birth is to remember that IIo 
 died for us ; and that is why I spend the twenty-fiftli of 
 December in fasting and prayer." 
 
 ''Are you not glad you are to dine at the Abbey to-day. 
 Sir Dcnzil ?" asked Papillon, by way of commentary. 
 
 ''Nay, I put no restraint on my son. lie can serve God 
 after liis own manner, and veer with every wind of passion 
 or fancy if he will. But you shall have your cake and 
 draught of milk, little lady, and you too. Mistress Kirkland, 
 will, I hope, taste our Jersey milk, unless you would prefer 
 a glass of IVralmsey Avine." 
 
 " Mistress Kirkland is as much an anchorite as yourself, 
 mother. She takes no wine." 
 
 Lady Warner was the soul of hospitality, and particularly 
 proud of her dairy. When kept clear of theology and 
 politics she was indeed a very amiable woman. But to be 
 a Puritan in the year of the Five Mile Act was not to think 
 over kindly of the Government under which she lived • 
 while her sense of her own wrongs was intensified by 
 rumors of over-indulgence shown to Papists, and the 
 broad assertion that King and Duke were Roman Catholic 
 at heart, and waited only the convenient hour to retorge 
 the fetters that had bound England to the Papal throne. 
 
 She was fond of children, most of all of little girls, 
 never having had a daughter. She bent down to kiss 
 Henriette, and then turned to Angela with her kindest 
 smile — 
 
 "And this is Lady Fareham's daughter? She is as 
 pretty as a picture." 
 
 " And I am as good as a picture— sometimes, madam," 
 chirped Papillon. '' Mother says I am douce comme un 
 
 image. 
 
 When thou hast been silent or still for five minutes," 
 said Angela, "and that is but seldom." 
 
 A loud handbell summoned the butler, and an Arcadian 
 
 \ I 
 
In A Puritan House. 
 
 167 
 
 meal was speedily set out on a table in the hall, where a 
 very liberal iire of logs burnt as merrily as if it had been 
 designed to enliven a Christmas-keeping household. Indeed 
 there was notliing miserly or sparing about the housekeep- 
 ing at the Grange, which harmonized with the somber 
 richness of Lady Warner's gray brocade gown, from the 
 old-fashioned silk mercer's at the sign of the Flower-de- 
 luce, in Cheapside. There was liberality without waste, 
 and a certain quiet refinement in every detail which 
 reminded Angela of the convent parlor and her aunt's 
 room, and contrasted curiously with the elegant disorder of 
 her sister's surroundings. 
 
 Papillon clapped her hands at sight of the large plum- 
 cake, the jug of milk, and bowl of blackberry conserve. 
 
 " I was so hungry," she said, apologetically, after Den- 
 zil had supplied her with generous slices of cake, and laro-e 
 spoonfuls of jam. " I did not know that Nonconformis^ts 
 had such nice things to eat." 
 
 "Did you think we all lay in jail to suffer cold and 
 hunger for the faith that is in us, like that poor preacher 
 at Bedford ? " asked Lady Warner, bitterly. " It will 
 come to that some day, perhaps, under the new Act." 
 
 " Will you show Mistress Kirkland your house, mother 
 and your dairy ? " Denzil asked, hurriedly. "I know 
 she would like to see one of the neatest dairies in Oxford- 
 shire." 
 
 No request could bo more acceptable to Lady Warner, 
 who was a housekeeper first and a controversialist after- 
 wards. Inclined as she was to rail against the Church of 
 Eome— partly because she had made up her mind upon 
 hearsay, chiefly Miltonian, that Roman Catholicism was 
 only another nan.e for image-worship and martyr-burning, 
 and partly on aciv ivit of the favor that had been shown to 
 Papists, as compared with the cruel treatment of Noncon- 
 formists—still there was a charm in Angela's meek loveli. 
 
 : f 
 
 
168 
 
 When rhe W- -Id Was Younger. 
 
 ness against wliich the danglitorless matron could not stool 
 her warm and generous lieart. Slie melted in the space 
 of a quarter af an liour, while Denzil was encouraging 
 Ilenrietto to overeat herself, and ^ , ' ,, ^ersuade Angela 
 to taste this or tJiat dainty, or reproaching her for taking 
 so little : and by the time the child had finished her copi- 
 ous meal, Lady Warner was telling herself how dearly she 
 mighf liavo loved this girl for a daughter-in-law, were 
 it for that fatal objection of a corrupt and pernicious 
 creed. 
 
 No ! Lovely as she was, gentle, refined, and in all things 
 worthy to be loved, the question of creed must be a stum- 
 bling-block. And then there were other objections. 
 Rural gossip, the loose talk of servan is, had brought a highly 
 colored description of Lady lareham's household to^hcr 
 neighbor's ears. The extravagant splendor, the waste 
 and idleness, Ihe lato hours, the worship of pleasure, the 
 visiting, and singing, and dancing, and feasting, and worst 
 of all, the too indulgent friendship shown to a Parisian 
 fopling had formed the subject of conversation in many 
 an assembly of pious ladies, and hands and eyebrows hud 
 been uplifted at the iniquities of C^ ;lton Abbey, as second 
 only to the monstr is go'ags-on vi the Court at Oxford. 
 Almost ever since the Restoration Lady AVariier liad been 
 living in meek expeotnT^cy of fire from heavci. ; and the 
 chastisement of this memorable yc;/ had seemed to her 
 the inevitable realization of her fears 
 come down— impalpable, invisible, lea 
 in burning plague-spots, the l ^um 
 the contagion had mostly visite ua) 
 
 sons who had been strangers tv Jie e.v 'esses and pleasures 
 i ^ the court made nothing against Lady Warner's conviction 
 that this scourge was Heaven's vengeance upon fashion- 
 able vice. Her son liad brought her home stories of the 
 life at Whitehall, terrible pictures of iniquity conveyed in 
 
 Tiie fiery rain had 
 
 uig its deadly tokens 
 
 rs of death. That 
 
 ambler class < f per- 
 
 ery 
 
In A Puritan House. 
 
 169 
 
 the scathing words of one who sat apart, in a Immblolodg- 
 in^^ wliorc for him the light of the day came not, and 
 liourd with disgust and liorror of that wave of debauch- 
 ery which liad swept over the city ho loved since the 
 triumph of tlio Royalists. And Lady Warner had heard 
 the words of Milton, and had listened with a reverence as 
 profound as if the blind poet liad been the prophet of 
 Israel, alone in his place of hidiiifr, holding himself aloof 
 from an idolatrous king and a wi .vcd people. 
 
 And now her son had brought her this fair girl, upon 
 whom he liad set liis foolish hopes, a papist, and the sister 
 of a woman whoso ways were of . A favorite script- 
 ural word closed the sentence in Lady Warner's mind. 
 
 No ; it might not be. Whatever power she had over 
 hi r son must be used against this papistical siren. She 
 w. . d treat her with courtesy, show her house and dairy, and 
 there an end. And so they repaired to the offices, with Pa- 
 pillo" I mning backwards and forwards as they went along, 
 excltiming .• d questioning, delighted with the shining oak 
 floors and ,: ' oak chests in the corridor, and the armor 
 in the hall, Avnerc, as the sacred and central object, hung 
 the breastplate Sir George Warner wore when he fell at 
 Ilopton Heath, dinted by sword and spike, as the enemy's 
 horse rode him down in the melee. His orange scarf, soiled 
 and torn, was looi)od arross the steel cuirass. Pap! .>u 
 admired everything, most of all the great cool dairy, which 
 had once been a chapel, and where the piscina was con- 
 verted to a niche for a polished brass milk can, to the horror 
 of Angela, who could say no word in prrlse of a place that 
 had been created by the profanation of holy things. A 
 chapel turned into a storehouse for milk and butter ! Was 
 this how Protestants valued consecrated places ? An awe- 
 stricken silence came upon her, and she was glad when 
 ' >cnzil remembered that I hey would have barely time to 
 walk back to the Abbey before the two-o'clock dinner. 
 
 f* 
 
I/O 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 " You keep Court 1 .mrscven in tlio country," said Lady 
 Warner. *' I have dined before you came." 
 
 ** I don't care if I liuve no dinner to-day," said Papillon ; 
 ''but I hope I shall be ablo to eat a mince-pie. Why 
 don't you love mince-pies, nuidam ? lie " — pointing to 
 Denzil — '■ says you don't." 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE priest's hole. 
 
 li ; 
 
 II 
 
 Denzil dined at the Abbey, where he was always made 
 welcome. Lady Fareham had been warmly insistent upon 
 his presence at their Christmjia gayeties. 
 
 ** We want to show you a Cavalier's Christmas," she told 
 him at dinner, he seated at her side in tlie place of honor, 
 while Angela sat at the other end of the table between 
 Fareham and De Malfort. 
 
 "For ourselves we care little for such simple sports. But 
 for the poor folk and the children. Yule should be a season 
 to be remembered for good cheer and merriment through 
 all their slow dull year. Poor wretches ! I think of their 
 hard life sometimes, and wonder they don't either drown 
 themselves or massacre us." 
 
 " They are like the beasts of the field. Lady Fareham. 
 They have learnt patience from the habit of suffering. 
 They are born poor, and they die poor. It is happy for us 
 that they are not learned enough to consider the inequali- 
 ties of fortune, or we should have the rising of want against 
 abundance, a bitterer strife, perhaps, than the strife of ad- 
 verse creeds, which made Ireland a bloody spectacle for the 
 world's wonder thirty years ago." 
 
 *'Well, we shall make them all happy i is afternoon; 
 
The Priest's Hole. 
 
 171 
 
 and there will bo 11 siippor in the groat stono barn wliich 
 will aoquaint thorn withabunduiiou for this ono evening at 
 least," answered Hyacinth, gayly. 
 
 ^ " We are going to play games after dinner ! " cried Ilen- 
 riettc, from her place at her father's elbow. 
 
 His lordship was the only person who over reproved her 
 seriously, yet she loved him host of all hor kindred or 
 friends. 
 
 "Aunt Angy is going to play hide-and-seek with us. 
 Will you play, Sir Denzil ? " 
 
 "I shall think myself privileged if I may join in your 
 amusements." 
 
 "What a courteous speech. You will be cutting off 
 your pretty curly hair, and putting on a French porruque, 
 like his,"— pointing to De Malfort. " Please don't. You 
 would bo like everybody else in London— and now you are 
 only like yourself — and vastly handsome." 
 
 " Hush, Henriette ! you are much too pert," remon- 
 strated Fareham. 
 
 " But it's the very truth, father. All the women who 
 visit mother paint their faces, so that they are all alike ; 
 and all the men talk alike, so that I don't know ono from 
 t'other, except Lord Rochester, who is impndenter and 
 younger than the others, and who gives me more sugar- 
 plums than anybody else. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, mistress. A dinnor-tablo is no 
 place for pert children. Thy brother there has better 
 manners," said her father, pointing to the cherubic son 
 and heir, whose ideas were concentrated upon a loaded plate 
 of rod-doer pastry. 
 
 "You mean that he is greedier than I," retorted Papil- 
 lon. "He Avill eat till he won't be able to run about with 
 us after dinner, and then he will sprawl upon mother's satin 
 train by the lire, with Ganymede and Phosphor, and she 
 will tell everybody how good and gentle he is, and how 
 
 . I 
 
172 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 M \' 
 
 much better bred than his sister. And now if people are 
 ever going to leave off eating, we may as well begin our 
 games before it is quite dark. Perhaps you are ready, 
 auntie, if nobody else is." 
 
 Dinner may have ended a little quicker for this speech, 
 although Papillon was sternly suppressed, and bade to keep 
 silence or leave the table. She obeyed so far as to make 
 no further remarks, but expressed her contempt for the 
 ghittony of her elders by several loud yawns, and bounced 
 up out of her seat like a ball from a racket, directly the 
 little gentleman in black sitting near his lordship had mur- 
 mured a discreet thanksgiving. This gentleman was the 
 Eoman Catholic priest from Oxford, who had said Mass 
 early that morning in the muniment room, and who bad 
 been invited to his lordship's table in honor of the festival. 
 
 Papillon led all the games, and ordered everybody about. 
 Mrs. Dorothy Lettsome, the young lady who was sorry 
 she had not had the honor to be born in France, was of the 
 party, with her brother, honest Dan Lettsome, an Oxford- 
 shire squire, who had only been in London once in his 
 life, to see the coronation, and who had nearly lost his life 
 as well as his purse and jcAvelry in a tavern after that 
 august ceremonial. This bitter experience had given him 
 a distaste for the pleasures of the town which his poor sis- 
 ter deplored exceedingly ; since she was dependent upon 
 his coffers, and subject to his authority, and had no hope 
 of leaving Oxfordshire unless she were fortunate enough to 
 find a townbred husband. 
 
 These two joined in the sports Avitli ardor. Squire Dan 
 glad to be moving about, rather than to sit still and listen 
 to music which he hated, or to conversation to which he 
 could contribute neither wit nor sense, unless the kennel 
 or the gun-room were the topic under discussion. The 
 talk of a lady and geuLlenian who had graduated in the 
 salons of the Hotel de Rambouillet was a foreign language 
 
The Priest's Hole. 
 
 173 
 
 to him, and he told his sister that it was all one to him 
 whether Lady Fareham and the mounseer talked French or 
 English, since it was quite as hard to understand 'em in 
 one language as in t'other. 
 
 Papillon, this rustic youth adored. Ho knew no greater 
 pleasure than to break and train a pony for her, to teach 
 her the true knack of clearing a hedge, to explain the 
 habits and nature of those vermin in whose lawless lives 
 she was deeply interested — rats, weasels, badgers, and such 
 like — to attend her when she hunted, or flew her peregrine. 
 
 •' If you will marry me, sweetheart, when you are of the 
 marrying age, I would rather wait half a dozen years for 
 you, than have the best woman in Oxfordshire that I know 
 of at this present." 
 
 " Marry you ! " cried Lord Fareham's daughter. * ' Why, 
 I shall marry no one under an earl ; and I hope it will be 
 a duke or a marquis. Marchioness is a pretty title ; it 
 sounds better than duchess because it is in three syllables 
 — mar-chion-ess," with an affected drawl. "lam going 
 to be very beautiful. Mrs. Ilubbuck says so, and mother's 
 own woman ; and I heard that painted old wretch, Mrs. 
 Lewin, tell mother so. ' Eh, gud your la'ship, the young 
 miss will be almost as great a beauty as your la'ship's self ! ' 
 Mrs. Lewin always begins her speeches with ' Eh, gud ! ' 
 or * What devil ! " But I hope I shall be handsomer than 
 mother," concluded Papillon, in a tone which implied a 
 poor opinion of the maternal charms. 
 
 And now on this Christmas evening, in the thickening 
 twilight of the rambling old house through long galleries, 
 crooked passages, queer little turns at right angles, rooms 
 opening oat of rooms, half a dozen in succession, Squiro 
 Dan led the games, ordered about all the time by Papillon, 
 whom, he talked of admiringly as a fine-mettled filly, de- 
 claring that she had more tricks than the running horse 
 he was training for Abingdon races. 
 
5; 
 
 
 ::il 
 
 it'. 
 
 I I s 
 
 174 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 De Malfort, after assisting in their sports for a quarter 
 of an hour with considerable spirit, had deserted them, and 
 sneaked off to the great saloon, where he sat on the Tur- 
 key carpet at Lady Fareham's feet, singing madrigals to 
 his guitar, while George and the spaniels sprawled beside 
 him, the whole group making a picture of indolent enjoy- 
 ment, fitfully lighted by the blaze of a Yule log that filled 
 the width of the chimney. Fareham and the priest were 
 playing chess at the other end of the long low room, by the 
 light of a single candle. 
 
 Papillon ran in at the door and ejaculated her disgust at 
 De Malfort's desertion. 
 
 " "Was there ever such laziness ? It's bad enough 
 
 m 
 
 Georgie to be so idle ; but then, he has over-eaten him- 
 self." 
 
 *' And how do you know that I haven't over-eaten my- 
 self, mistress ? " asked De Malfort. 
 
 ' ' You never do that ; but you often drink too much — 
 much, much, much too much." 
 
 " That's a slanderous thing to say of your mother's most 
 devoted servant," laughed De Malfort. '' And pray how 
 does a baby-girl like you know when a gentleman has been 
 more thirsty than discreet ?" 
 
 " By the Avay you talk— always French. Jamie ch'dame, 
 n'savons, p'sse n'belle s'ree — n'fam-partie d'ombre. Moi 
 j'ai p'du n'belle f'tune, p'rol'd'nneur ! You clip your 
 words to nothing. Aren't you coming to play hide and 
 seek ? " 
 
 " Not I, fair slanderer. I am a salamander, and love 
 the fire." 
 
 "Is that a kind of Turk? Good-bye. I'm going to 
 hide." 
 
 '* Beware of the chests in the gallery, sweetheart," said 
 her father, v/ho heard only this lagtHonteufe as his daughter 
 ran past him towards the door. ** When I was in Italy I 
 
The Priest's Hole. 
 
 175 
 
 was told of a bride who liid herself in an old dower-chest, 
 on her wedding-day— and the lid clapped to with a spring 
 and kept her prisoner." 
 
 ** There's no spring that ever locksmith wrought that 
 will keep down Papilion," cried Do Malfort, sounding a 
 light accompaniment to his words with delicatest touch like 
 fairy music. 
 
 " I know of better hiding-places," answered the child, 
 and vanished, banging the great door behind her. 
 
 She found her aunt with Dorothy Lettsome and her 
 brother and Denzil in the gallery above stairs, walking up 
 and down and listening with every indication of weariness 
 to the squire's discourse about his hunters and running 
 horses. 
 
 " Now we are going to have real good sport," she said. 
 " Aunt Angy and I are to hide, and you three are to look 
 for us. You must stop here for ten minutes by the French 
 clock yonder— with the door shut. You must give us ten 
 minutes' law, Mr. Lettsome, as you did the hare the other 
 day, when I was out with you— and then you may begin to 
 look for us. Promise." 
 
 "Stay, little miss, you will be outside lite house belike, 
 roaming Lord knovrs where, in the shrubberies, or the barns, 
 or halfway to Oxford— while wo are made fools of here." 
 
 " No, no. We will be inside the house." 
 
 " Do you promise that, pretty lady ? " 
 
 "Yes, I promise." 
 
 Mrs. Dorothy suggested that there had been enough of 
 childish play, and that it would be pleasanter to sit in the 
 saloon with her ladyship, and hear Monsieur de Malfort 
 sing. 
 
 •11] wager he was singing when you saw him just 
 now." 
 
 '-'■ Yes, he is always singing foolish -Frencli songs— and 
 I'm sure you can't understand 'em." 
 

 
 176 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 "I've learnt the. French ever since I was as old as you, 
 Mistress Henrietta/' 
 
 *'Ah, that was too late to begin. People who learn 
 French out of books know what it looks like, but not what 
 it sounds like.'' 
 
 "I should be very sorry if I could not. understand a 
 French ballad, little miss." 
 
 Would you— would you, really ? cried Papillon, her face 
 alight with impish mirth. " Then, of course, you under- 
 stand this — 
 
 " Oh, la d'moiselle, comme elle est sot-te, 
 
 Eh, je me moque de sa sot-ti-se ! 
 
 Eh, la d'moiselle, comme elle est be-te, 
 
 Eh, je m' en ris de sa be-ti-se ! " 
 
 She sang this impromptu nonsense prestissimo as she 
 danced out of the room, leaving the accomplished Dorothy 
 vexed and perplexed at not having understood a single 
 word. 
 
 It was nearly an hour later when Denzil entered the 
 saloon hurriedly, pale andpertiirbed of aspect, with Dorothy 
 and her brother folloAving him. 
 
 "We have been hunting all over the house for Mrs. 
 Angela and Henrlette," Denzil said, and Fareham started 
 up from the chess-table scared at the young man's agitated 
 tone and pallid countenance. '' We have looked in everv 
 room " 
 
 " In every closet," interrupted Dorothy. 
 
 " In every corner of the staircases and passages," said 
 Squire Dan. 
 
 " Can your lordship help us ? There may be places 
 you know of which we do not know!" said^Donzil, his 
 voice trembling a little. " It is alarming that they should 
 be so long in concealmont. W"e have called to them in 
 every part of the house." 
 
The Priest's Hole. 
 
 i;7. 
 
 Fareham hurried to the door, taking instant alarm- 
 anxious, pale, alert. 
 
 "Come I" ho said to the others. "Tlie oak chests in 
 the music-room— tlie great Florentine coffer in the gallery ? 
 Have you looked in tliose ? " 
 
 " Yes ; we have opened every chest." 
 " Faith, to see Sir Denzil turn over piles of tapestries, 
 you would have thought he was looking for a fairy that 
 could hide in the folds of a curtain ! " said Lettsome. 
 
 "It is no theme for jesting. I hate these tricks of hid- 
 ing in strange corners,'' said Fareham. " Now, show me 
 where they left you." 
 " In the long gallery." 
 "They have gone up to the roof, perhaps." 
 "We have been in the roof," said Denzil. 
 "I have scarce recovered my senses after the cracked 
 skull I got from one of your tie-beams," added Lettsome ; 
 and Fareham saw that both men had their doublets coated 
 with dust and cobwebs, in a manner which indicated a re- 
 morseless seaa-ching of places unvisited by housemaids and 
 brooms. Mrs. Dorothy, with a due regard for her dainty 
 lace kerchief and ruffles, and her cherry silk petticoat, 
 had avoided these loathy places, the abode of darkness, 
 haunted by the fear of rats. 
 
 Fareham tramped the house from cellar to garret. Den- 
 zil alone accompanying him. 
 
 " We want no posse comitatus," ho had said, somewhat 
 discourteously. " You, squire, had best go and mend your 
 cracked head in the o ting-parlor with a brimmer or two 
 of clary wine ; and y .a Mc^. Dorothy, can go and keep her 
 ladyship company. But not a word of our fright. Swoons 
 and screaming >yould only iiinder us." 
 
 He took Mrs, Lettsome's arm, and led her to the stair- 
 case, pushing thti squire after her, and then turned his 
 anxious countenance to Denzil. 
 
 12 
 
 « ■ 
 
 '>. M:'^^ 
 
I ! 
 
 178 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 " If they are not to be found in the house, they must be 
 found outside the house. Oh, the folly, the madness of 
 it ! A December night— snow on the ground— a rising 
 wind— another fall of snow, perhaps— and those two afoot 
 and alone ! " 
 
 "I do not believe they are out of doors/' Denzil an- 
 swered ; " your daughter promised that they would not 
 leave the house." 
 
 " My daughter tells the truth. It is her chief virtue/' 
 
 "And yet we have hunted in every hole and corner," 
 said Denzil, dejectedly. 
 
 " Hole ! " cried Fareham, almost in a shout. " Thou 
 hast hit it, man ! ^^hat one word is a flash of lightning. 
 The Priest's Hole ! Come this way. Bring your candle ! " 
 snatching up that which he had himself set down on* a 
 table, when he stood still to deliberate. ''The Priest's 
 Hole ? The child knew the secret of it— fool that I was 
 ever to show her. God ! what a place to hide in on a dark, 
 winter night." 
 
 He was half-way up the staircase to the second story be- 
 fore he had uttered the last of these exclamations, Denzil 
 following him. 
 
 Suddenly through the stillness of the house, there 
 sounded a faint far-off cry, the shrill thin sound of a child's 
 voice. Fareham and Warner would hardly have heard it 
 had they not been sportsmen, with ears trained to listen 
 for distant sounds. No view-hallo sounding across miles 
 of wood and valley was ever fainter or more ethereal. 
 " You hear them ? " cried Fareham. " Quick, quick ! " 
 He led the way along a narrow gallery, about eight feet 
 high, where people had danced in Elizabeth's time, when 
 the house was newly converted to secular uses ; and then 
 into a room in which there were several iron chests, the 
 muniment room, where a sliding panel, of which the m.aster 
 of the house knew the trick, revealed an opening in the 
 
The Priest's Hole. 
 
 179 
 
 » 
 
 wall. Pareham squeezed himself through the gap, still 
 carrying the tall iron candlestick, with flaring candle, and 
 vanished. Denzil followed, and found himself descending 
 a narrow stone staircase, very steep, huilt into an angle of 
 the groat chimney-stack, while as if from the bowels of the 
 earth there came, louder at every step, that shrill cry of 
 distress, in a voice he could not doubt was Ilenriette's 
 
 "The other is mute," groaned Fareham ; -scared to 
 deatli, perhaps, like a frightened bird." And then he 
 called, - 1 am coming. You are safe, love ; safe, safe ' " 
 And then he groaned aloud, - Oh, the madness, the follv 
 of it ! " •' 
 
 He and Denzil were on a narrow stone landing at the 
 bottom of the house ; and the child's wail of an-uish 
 changed to a joyous shriek, -Father, father!" dole in 
 their ears. Fareham set his shoulder aguinst the heavy oak 
 door, and it burst inwards. There had been no question of 
 secret spring or complicated machineiy; but the great 
 clumsy door dragged upon its rusty hinges, and the united 
 strength of the two girls had not served to pull it open 
 though Papillon, in her eagerness for concealment in the 
 first fever of hiding had been strong enough to push the 
 door till she had jammed it, and made all after efforts 
 vain. 
 
 ^ - Father !" she cried, leaping into his arms as he came 
 into the room, large enough to hold six men standing 
 npright ; but a hideous den in which to perish alone in 
 the dark. - Oh father, I thought no one would ever find 
 us. I was afraid we should have died like the Italian 
 lady-and people would have found our skeletons and 
 wondered about us. I never was afraid before. Not when 
 the gray reared as high as a house-and her lady.shin 
 screamed. I only laughed then-but to-night I have bee i 
 airaid," 
 
 Fareham put her aside without looking at her. 
 
i8o 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 " Angela ! Great God ! She is dead ! " * 
 
 No, she WHS not dead — only in a half-swoon, leaning 
 against the angle of the wall, ghastly white in •';he flare 
 of the candles. She was not quite uneonscious. She 
 knew whoso strong arms were holding her, whose lips 
 were so near her own, whose head bent suddenly upon her 
 breast, leaning against the lace kerchief, to listen for the 
 beating of her heart. 
 
 She made a great effort to relievo his fear, understanding 
 dimly that he thought her dead : but could only murmur 
 faint broken syllables, till he carried her up three or four 
 stairs, and through a door that opened into the garden. 
 There in the wintry air, under the steely light of winter 
 stars, her senses came back to her. She opened her eyes, 
 and looked at him. 
 
 " I am sorry 1 have not Papillon's courage," she said. 
 
 " Tu m'as donne une affreuse peur, je te croyais morte," 
 muttered Fareham, letting his arms drop like lead as she 
 released herself from their support. 
 
 Denzil and Henriette were close to them. They had 
 come to the open door for fresh air, after the charnel-like 
 chill and closeness of the small underground chamber. 
 
 " Father is angry with me,'^ said the girl ; *' he won't 
 speak to me." 
 
 " Angry ! no, no ; " and he bent to kiss her. 
 oh, child, the folly of it ! She might have died 
 too — found just an hour too late." 
 
 " It would have taken a long time to kill me," said 
 Papillon, hardily ; " But I was very cold, and my teeth 
 were chattering, and I should soon have been hungry. Have 
 you had supper yet ? " 
 
 Nobody has even thought of supper." 
 
 " I am glad of that. And I may have supper with you, 
 mayn't I, and eat what I like, because it's Christmas, and 
 because I might have been starved to death in the Priest's 
 
 "But 
 you 
 
Lighter 7 -.in Vanity. i8i 
 
 Hole. But it was a good hiding-place, tout le merae. Who 
 guessed at last." 
 
 "The only person who knew of the place, child. And 
 now, remember, the secret is to be kept. Your dungeon 
 may some day save an honest man's life. You must tell 
 nobody where you were hid." 
 
 " But what shall I say when they ask mo ? I must not 
 tell them a story. 
 
 " Say you were hidden in the great chimney— which is 
 truth ; for the Priest's Hole is but a recess at the back of 
 the chimney. And you, Warner," turning to Denzil, who 
 had not spoken since the opening of the door, " I know 
 you'll keep the secret." 
 
 '^ Yes. I will keep your secret," Denzil answered, cold 
 as ice ; and said no word more. 
 
 They Avalked slowly round the house by the terrace, 
 where the clipped yews stood out like obelisks against the 
 bleak bright sky. Papillon ran and skipped at her father's 
 side, clinging to him, expatiating upon her sufferings in 
 the dust and darkness. Denzil followed with Angela, in 
 a dead silence. 
 
 CHAPTEE XL 
 
 LIGHTER TIIAlIf VANITY. 
 
 "I THINK father must be a witch," Henriette said at 
 dinner next day, ''or why did he tell me of the Italian 
 lady who was shut in the dower-chest Just before Angela 
 and I were lost in "—she checked herself at a look from his 
 lordship — " in tlie chimney ? " 
 
 " It wants no witch to tell that little girls are foolish and 
 mischievous," answered Fareham. 
 
 You ladies must have been vastly black when you came 
 

 i|;f 
 
 ii I 
 
 
 ),,'t 
 
 
 >l i\ 
 
 I ! 
 
 182 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 out of your iiiding-place," said Do Malfort. " I should 
 have been sorry to see so much beauty disguised in soot. 
 Perhaps Mistress Kirklaiid means to appears in the character 
 of a chimney at our next court masquerade. She would 
 cause as great a stir as Lady Muskerry, in all her Baby- 
 lonian splendor, but for other reasons. Nothing could 
 mitigate the Mu skerry's ugliness, and no disguise could 
 hide Mrs. Angela's beauty." 
 
 " What would the costume be ? " asked Papillon. 
 " Oh, something simple. A long black satin gown, and 
 a brick-dust velvet hat, tall and curiously twisted, like 
 your Tudor chimney-pot ? " 
 
 " M. le Comte makes a joke of everything. But what 
 would father have said if we had never been found ?" 
 
 "I should have said that they are right who swear there 
 is a curse up it •! property taken from the Church and 
 that the ban h.\[ black and bitter upon Chilton Abbev," 
 answered hie. lordship's grave deep voice from the end of 
 the table, ■wLtro he sat somewhat apart from the rest, 
 gloomy and silent, save when directly addressed. 
 
 Her ladyship and the count had always plenty to talk 
 about. They had the past as well as the present for their 
 discourse, and Avore always sigliing fortlio vanished glories 
 of their youth— in Paris, at Fontainebleau, at Saint Ger- 
 main. Nor were they restricted to the realities of the pres- 
 ent and the memories of the past ; they had that wider 
 world of unreality in which to circulate j they had the 
 Scudery language at the tips of their tongues, the fantas- 
 tic sentimentalism of that marvelous old maid who in- 
 vented the seventeenth-century hero and heroine, or who 
 crystallized the vanishing figures of that brilliant age and 
 made them immortal. All that little language of toyshop 
 platonics had become a natural form of speech with these 
 two, bred and educated in the Marais, while it was still the 
 select and aristocratic quarter of Paris. 
 
Lighter Than Vanity. 
 
 183 
 
 To-day Hyacinth and her old phiyfellow luid been chat- 
 tenng like children or birds ina volary, and with little more 
 sense m their conversation ; bnt at this talk of the Church's 
 ban. Hyacinth stopped in her prattle and was almost sori- 
 
 "I sometimes think wo shall have bad in this 
 
 house she said or that we shall see the _ as of the 
 wicked monks who were turned out to make room for 
 i^a- ehani s groat-grandfather/' 
 
 '-They w.re very wicked. I believe, for it was one of 
 tliose quiet li tie monasteries where the monks could do all 
 manner of en U things, and raise the devil, if they liked 
 without anybody knowing. And when Henry the Eighth 
 sent his commissioners, they were taken by surprise -"and 
 the altar at which they worshiped Beelzebub was fouml in 
 a side chapel, and a wax figure of the king stuck with 
 arrows like Saint Sebastian. The abbot pretended it was 
 baint .Sebastian, but nobody believed him '' 
 
 ^ - xYobody wanted to believe him," said Fareham. - The 
 king made an example of Chilton Abbey, and gave it to my 
 worthy ancestor, who was a fourth r-ousin of Jane Sev- 
 mours and had turned Protestant to please his royal mas- 
 er He went back to the Church of Ron.e on his death- 
 bed, and we Revels have been papists ever since. I wish 
 the Church joy of us.'' 
 
 -The Church h-; neither profit nor honor from you " 
 said his wife, shaking her fan at him. " You seldom go 
 to Mass ; you never go to confession." 
 
 i^.''^rt^ ''''^^'' ^''P ""^ '^"' *° "^y'"^^^' a^^ atone for 
 them by the pangs of a wounded conscience. That is too 
 easy a religion which shifts the burden of guilt on to the 
 shoulders of a stipendiary priest, and walks away from the 
 confessional absolved by the payment of a few extra pray! 
 
 *a believe you are either an infidel or i Puritan." 
 
?U^' rS\.^ 
 
 
 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT.3) 
 
 k 
 
 // 
 
 / 
 
 
 
 /, 
 
 & 
 ^ 
 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 '" 1^'^ 
 ""l^ 
 
 US 
 
 1^ '""^ 
 I 
 
 40 
 
 11:25 ill 1.4 
 
 2.0 
 
 1.6 
 
 wm 
 
 
 
 Photceraphic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 873-4503 
 
 ■17 
 
 \ 
 
 qv 
 
 \ 
 
 :\ 
 
 ^"v 
 
 
 ;\ 
 
b A 
 
 ,v «p 
 
 ,v 
 
 ,.v 
 
 <i 
 
 .^ 
 
 <? 
 
 ^^ 
 
 Ua 
 
 h^ 
 
 '/, 
 
 ^ 
 
 » 
 
p 
 
 e 
 
 f 
 
 III 
 
 - 1 i 
 
 I 
 
 i i 
 
 ■ i 
 
 ■ i 
 
 184 
 
 When The World Was Youngfei'. 
 
 " A cross between tlie two perhaps — a mongrel m relig- 
 ion, as I am a mongrel in politics." 
 
 Angela looked up at him with sad eyes, reproachful, yet 
 full of pity. She remembered his wild talk, semi-delirious 
 some of it, all feverish and excited, during his illness, and 
 how she had listened with aching heart to the ravings of 
 one so near death, and so unfit to die. And now that the 
 pestilence had passed him by, now that he was a strong 
 man agiiin, with half a lifetime before him, her heart Avas 
 still heavy for him. She who sat at the play of life as a 
 spectator had discovered that her sister's husband was not 
 happy. The trifles that delighted Hyacinth left Fareham 
 unamused and discontented ; and his wife knew not that 
 there was anything wanting to his felicity. She could go 
 on prattling like a child, could be in a fever about a fan or 
 a bunch of ribbons, could talk for an hour of a new play or 
 the contents of the French gazette, Avhile he sat gloomy 
 and apart. 
 
 The sympathy, the companionship that should be in 
 marriage were wanting here. Angela saw and deplored 
 this distance, scarce dai-ing to touch so delicate a theme, 
 fearful lest she, the younger, should seem to sermonize the 
 elder ; and yet she could not be silent forever while duty 
 and religion urged her to speak. 
 
 At Chilton Abbey the sisters were rarely alone. Pai)illon 
 was almost always with them i and De Malfort spent more 
 of his life in atteiuhinco upon Lady Fareham than at Ox- 
 ford, where he Avas supposed to be living. Mrs. Lettsome 
 and her brother were frequent guests, and coachloads of 
 fine people came over from the court almost every day. 
 Indeed, it avus only Fareham's character — austere as Clar- 
 endon's or Southampton's — Avhieh kept the finest of all 
 company at a distance. Lady Castlemaine had called at 
 Chilton in her coach and four early in July, and her visit 
 had not been returned — a slight Avhich the proud beautv 
 
 
Lighter Than Vanity, 
 bittm-ly resented : and from that time she had lost 
 
 185 
 op. 
 
 ■.^^..^. -i I. 1 ""^ """ "itu lost no on- 
 
 poituiiity of doprecmting Lady Fareliam. Happily lier 
 JOS s, not over refined in quality, had not been repeated 
 to llyaointli's husband. ^ 
 
 One January afternoon the h>nged-f„r opportunity eame. 
 The sisters weie sitcmg alone in front of the vast mediaeval 
 chimney, where the abbots of old had burnt theirsurpb 
 unber. Angela busy with lier embroidery frame, Avori in<. 
 a sa m coverlet for lier niece's bed, Ilyacintli yawnin^ove^r 
 a volunie of Cyrus, in whose staiely p'ges she'oved to "c- 
 ognize the portraits of her dearest friciuls, and for whieh 
 she was a hvnig key. Angela was now familiar with the 
 famous romance, which she liad read with deepest interest, 
 enl ghtoned by her sister. As an eastern stol-y-a record 
 of battles and sieges evolved from aelever .piuster s brain 
 an account of men andM'omen who had n^ver lived-t^^ 
 book might have seemed pissing dull : but tlie story of ac! 
 t^ lives, of hving,breatbing beauty, and valor that s Hi 
 burnt in warrior breasts, the keen and clever analvsis of 
 men and women who were making history, eouli t fa 
 ^o interest an intelligent girl, to whom all things in Hfe 
 
 Angela read of the siege of Dunkirk, where Fareham 
 had fought ; of the tempestuous weather, the camp in Tl^ 
 midst of salt marshes .aid quicksands, and all the suiferincrs 
 and perils o life in the trenches. He had been i 2 
 than one of those battles which mademoiselle's conseient^ms 
 pen depicted with such graphic power, the ''Ga.ee" 
 
 er elbow as she wrote. The names of battles, sices 
 
 feeuerals had been on Ins lips in his delirious ravines ^ul 
 
 had ta ked of the taking of Charenton, the key to Kris a 
 
 tronghold dominating Seine and Marne ; of Clanlen he 
 
 et::e't;fl-|flfr ^"^-'r^ Ohatillon,whoM\t 
 charge-bo h killed there-Chatillon, the friend of Conde 
 Who wept bitterest tears for a loss that poisoned victory.' 
 
1 86 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 I 
 
 Read by these liglits, the " Grand Cyrus" was a book to 
 be pored over, a book to dread over in the gray winter 
 dusk, reading by the brood blaze of the logs that flamed 
 and crackled on wrought-iron standards, surmounted ■with 
 an abbot's miter. Just as merrily the blaze hud spread its 
 ruddy light over the room when it v.-as a monkish refectory, 
 and Avhen the droning of a youthful brother reading aloud 
 to the fraternity as +hey ate their supper was the only 
 sound, except the clattering of knives and grinding of 
 jaws. 
 
 Nov,' the room was her ladyship's drawing-room, bright 
 with Gobelin tapestry, dazzling with Venetian mirrors, 
 gaudy with gold and color, the black oak floor eidivened 
 by many-hued carpets from our new colony of Tangiers. 
 Fareham told his wife that her Moorish carpets iiad cost 
 the country fifty times the price she had paid for them, 
 and were associated with an irrevocable evil in the existence 
 of a childless queen ; but, that piece of malice, Hyacinth 
 told him, had no foundation but his hatred of the*- e, 
 who had always been perfectly civil to him. 
 
 " Of two profligate brothers, I prefer the bolder sinner," 
 said Fareham. " Bigotry and debauchery eve in the 
 mixture." 
 
 "I doubt if his majesty frets for the want of an heir," 
 remarked De Malfovt. " He is not a family man." 
 
 " He is not a one family man, Count," a.iswered Fareham. 
 
 Fareham and Do ]\Ialfort were both away on this January 
 evening, Papillon was taking a dancing lesson from a 
 wizened old Frencimian, who brought himself and his 
 fiddle from Oxford Ux'icc a week for the damsel's instruction. 
 Mrs. Priscilla, nurse and gouvornante, attended these 
 lessons, at which the Honorable Henriette Maria Revel 
 gave herself prodigious airs, and was indeed so rude to the 
 poor old professor that her aunt had declined to assist at 
 a,ny more performances, 
 
Lighter Tlian Vanity. 
 
 187 
 
 "Has his lordship gone to Oxford?" Angela asked 
 after a silence broken only by her sister's yawns. ' 
 
 " I doubt ho is anywhere rather than in such good 
 comi)auy," Hyacinth answered, carelessly. <' He hates the 
 King, and would like to preach at him, as John Knox did 
 at his great-grandmother. Fareham is riding, or rovin^ 
 with his dogs, I dare say. He has a gloomy taste for 
 solitude." 
 
 "Hyacinth, do you not see that he is unhappy?" 
 Angela asked, suddenly, and the pain in her voice startled 
 her sister from the contemplation of the sublime Mandane 
 
 "Unhappy, child ! What reason has he to be unhappy ? " 
 ^ ^" Ah, dearest, it is that I xvould have vcn discover. 
 'Tis a wife's business to know what grieves her husband '' 
 
 "Unless it be Mrs. Lewin's bill-who is an inexorable 
 harpy— I know of no act of mine that can afflict him." 
 
 " I did not mean that his gloom was caused by any act 
 of yours, sister ; I only urge you to discover why he is so 
 sad." 
 
 " Sad ? Sullen, you mean. Ho has a fine, generous 
 nature. I am sure it is not Lewin's charges that trouble 
 liim. But he had always a salleii temper—by lits and 
 starts." 
 
 "But of late he has been always silent and gloomy." 
 "How the child watches him! Ma tres chere] that 
 silence is natural. There are but two things Fareham 
 loves— the first, war ; the second, sport If he cannot be 
 storming a town, he loves to bo killing a fox. This fireside 
 life of ours, our books and music, our little talks of plays 
 and dances troubles him. You may see how he avoids 
 us — except out of doors." 
 
 " Dear Hyacinth, forgive me," Angela began, falteringly, 
 leaving her embroidery frame and moving to the other 
 side of the hearth, where she dropped on her knees by her 
 ladyship's chair, and was almost swallowed up in the ample 
 
u 
 
 i,' 
 
 ti 
 
 ( 
 
 I 
 If 
 
 It 
 
 I. 
 
 I* ' 
 
 I 
 
 •' 'I' 
 
 j j 
 
 1^ 
 
 i88 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 folds of her brocudo truin. *' Is it not possible that Lord 
 Farcluim is pained to see you so nuich gayer and more 
 familiar with Monsieur De Malfort tlian you ever are 
 witli him ? " 
 
 " Gayer ! more familiar I " cried Hyacinth. " Can yon 
 conceive any creature gay and familiar Avith Fareham ? 
 One could as soon be gay with Don Quixote ; indeed, there 
 is much in common between the knight of the rueful 
 countenance and my husband. Gay and familiar ! And 
 pray, mistress, why should I not take life pleasantly with 
 a man who understands me, and in whose friendship I 
 have grown up almost as if we were brother and sister ! 
 Do you forget that I have known Henri ever since I was 
 ten years old — that wt played battledore aiul shuttlecock 
 together in our dear garden in the line de Touraine, next 
 the bowling-green, when he was at school with the Jesuit 
 Fathers, and used to spend all his holiday afternoons Avith 
 the marquise ? I think I only learnt to know the saints' 
 days because they brought me my phiyfellow. And when 
 I was old enough to attend the court — and, indeed, I was 
 but a child when I first appeared there — it was Henri wdio 
 sang my praises, and brought a cloud of admirers about 
 me. Ah, what a life it was ! Love in the city, and war 
 at the gates ; jdots, battles, barricades ! How happy wo 
 all were ! except wdien there came the news of some great 
 man killed, und walls wove hung with black, where there 
 had been a thousand Avax candles and a crowd of dancers. 
 Chatillon, Chabot, Laval — helas, these were sad losses I" 
 
 " Dear sister, I can understand your affection for an old 
 friend, but I would not have you place him above your 
 husband ; least of all would I have his lordship suspect 
 that you preferred the friend to the husband " 
 
 " Suspect ! Fareham ! Are you afraid I shall make 
 Fareham jealous, because I sing duets and cudgel these 
 poor braiufj to make bouts rimes with De Malfort ? Ah, 
 
Lighter Than Vanity. 
 
 189 
 
 chiia, how little those watchful eyes of yours have discovered 
 tlie man's character ! Fareham jealous ! Why at 8t. 
 Germain he has seen me surrounded by adorers; the 
 subject of more madrigals than would fill a big book.' At 
 the Louvre he has seen mo the— what is that 3Ir. A\'hat's- 
 his-name, your friend's old schoolmaster, the republican 
 poet calls it—* the cynosure of neighboring eyes.' Don't 
 think mo vain, ma mie. I am an old woman now, and I 
 hate my looking-glass ever since it has shown me my first 
 wrinkle ; but in those days I had almost as many admirers 
 as Madame Ilenriette, or the I'rincess Palatine, or the 
 fair-haired duchess. I was called la belle Anglaise." 
 
 It was difficult to sound a warning note in ears so 
 obstinately deaf to all serious things. I'apillon came 
 bounding in after her dancing lesson— exuberant, loqua- 
 cious. 
 
 " The little beast has taught me a new step in the 
 coranto. See, mother," and the slim small figure wjis 
 drawn up to its fullest, and tlie thin little lithe arms were 
 curved with a studied grace, as Papillon slid and tripped 
 across the room, her dainty little features illumined by a 
 smirk of ineffable conceit. 
 
 " Ilenriette, you are an ill-bred child to call your master 
 so rude a name," remonstrated her mother, languidly. 
 
 " ' Tis the namo you called him last week when his dirty 
 shoes left marks on the stairs. He changes his shoes in 
 my presence," added Papillon, disgustedly. '•' I saw a hole 
 in his stocking. Monsieur de Malf ort calls him Cut-caper. " 
 
 fi 
 
190 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 i, ir 
 
 LADY FAREIFAM's DAY. 
 
 A MONTH later, the ''Oxford Gazette" brought Lady 
 Farehani the wclcomest news that she had read for ever 
 so long. The London death-rate had decreased, and his 
 majesty had gone to Hampton Court, attended by the 
 Duke and Prince Puiiert, Lord Clarciidon, and his other 
 indispensable advisors, aiul a retinue of servants, to be 
 within easy distance of that sturdy soldier All)euiarle, who 
 had remained in Loiulon, unafraid of the pestilence, and 
 who declared that while it was essential for him to be in 
 frequent communication with his majesty it would be 
 perilous to the interests of the State for him to absent 
 himself from London, for the Dutch war had gone drivel- 
 ing on ever since the victory in June, and that victory 
 was not to be suj^poscd final. Indeed, according to the 
 General, there was need of speedy action and a consider- 
 able incn-ease of our naval strenjrth. 
 
 Windsor had been thought of in the first place as resi- 
 dence for the king ; but the law courts had been transferred 
 there, aiul the judges and their following had overrun the 
 town, while there was a report of an infected house there. 
 So it had been resolved that his majesty should make a 
 brief residence at Hampton Court, leaving the queen, the 
 duchess, and their belongings at Oxford, whither he should 
 return as soon as the business of providing for the setting 
 out of the fleet had been arranged between him and the 
 General, who could travel in a day backwards and for- 
 wards between the cock-pit and Wolsey's palace. 
 
Lady Farcham's Day. 
 
 191 
 
 When this news came they were snowed np at Cliilton. 
 Sport of all kinds had boon stopped, and Faroluim, who 
 
 in his wife's parh 
 
 lived in his boots all 
 
 ^ lance nveti ni his ooots all the winter, luu 
 to amuse himself without the aid of horse and hound ; 
 while even walking was made dilheult by the snowdrifts' 
 that blocked the lanes, and reduced the face of nature to 
 one muffled and monotonous whiteness, while all the edjres 
 of t:ie landscape were outlined vaguely against the misty 
 grayness of the sky. 
 
 Hyacinth spent her days half in yawning and sigliing, 
 and half in idle laughter and childish"^ games with Ilonriotto 
 and T)e Malfort. When she was gay, she was as much a 
 child as her daughter ; when she was fretful and hij.pcd, it 
 was a childish discontent. 
 
 They played battledore and shuttlecock in the picture 
 gallery, and my lady laughed when her volant struck 
 some reverend judge or veneral)le bishop a rap on the nose. 
 They sat for hours twanging guitars, llyaeiTith taking her 
 music lesson from De UaUort, whose exrpiisile taste and 
 touch made a guitar seem a different instrument from that 
 on which liis pupil's delicate fingers nipped a wiry melody, 
 more suggestive of finger-nails than music. 
 
 He taught her, and took all possible pains in the teach- 
 ing, and laughed at her, and told her plainly that she had 
 no talent for music. He told her that in her hands the 
 finest lute haux Maler ever made, mellowed by three cent- 
 uries, Avould be but wood and catgut. 
 
 'at is the prettiest head in the world," he said one day, 
 with a light touch on the fair ringleted brow, " but there 
 is nothing inside. I wonder if there is anything here ?" 
 and the same light touch fluttered for an instant against 
 her brocade bodice, at the spot where fancy locates the 
 faculty of loving and sutfering. 
 
 She laughed at his rude speeches, just as she laughed at 
 his flatteries, as if there were a safety and armor in that 
 
kli; 
 
 Slit t 
 
 192 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 atmosphere of idle mirth. Angela heard and wondered, 
 wondering most i)erlii4)3 what occupied and interested 
 Lord Farehara in those white winter days when he lived 
 for the most part alone in his own rooms, or pacing tho 
 long walks from which the gardeners had cleared the snow. 
 He spent some of his time indoors deep in a book. She 
 knew as much as that. He had allowed Angela to read 
 some of his favorites, though he would not permit any of 
 tho new comedies, which everybody at court was reading, 
 to enter his house, much to Lady Fareham's annoyance. 
 
 " I am half a century behind all my friends in intelli- 
 gence," she said, '' because of your puritanism. One tires 
 of your everlasting gloomy tragedies— your ' liroken 
 Hearts ' and ' riiilasters.' I am for all the genius comedy." 
 " Then satisfy your inclinations, and read Moliere. He 
 is second only to Shakespcre." 
 " I have him by heart already." 
 
 The " Broken Heart " and '' Philaster " delighted 
 Angola ; indeed she had read the latter play so often, and 
 with such deep interest, that many passages in it had en- 
 graved themselves on her memorj', and recurred to her 
 sometimes in the silence of wakeful nights. 
 
 That character of " Bollario " touched her as no heroine 
 of the "Grand Cyrus" had power to move her. How 
 elaborately artificial seemed the Scudery's polished tirades, 
 her refinements and quintessences of tho grande passion, 
 as compared with the fervid simplicity of the woman-page 
 — a love so humble, so intense, so unselfish. 
 
 Sir Denzil came to Chilton nearly every day, and was 
 always gniciously received by her ladyship. His puritan 
 gravity fell away from him like a pilgrim's " cloak flung 
 off" in the light air of Hyacinth's amusements. He 
 seemed to grow younger ; and Henriette's sharp eyes dis- 
 covered an improvement in his dress. 
 " This is your second new suit since Christmas/' she 
 
 fiii,. I 
 
Lady Farcham's Day. 193 
 
 ejiid, "and I'll swear it is miulo by tlio king's tailor. 
 Jiegurdez done, mudanie. What exquisite embroidery, 
 silver and gold thread intermixed with little sparks of 
 gurnets sewn in the pattern. It is better than anything 
 of his lordship's. I wish I had a father who dressed well! 
 I'm sure mine must be the shal)biest lord at AVhitehall. 
 You have no right to be more modish than monsieur, mon 
 pere, Sir Denzil." 
 
 "Hold that insolent tongue, p'tit drolc," cried tiie 
 mother, "Sir Denzil is younger by a dozen years than his 
 lordshij), and has his reputation to make at court, and 
 with the ladies he will meet there. I hoi)o you are 
 coming to London, Denzil. You shall have a seat in one 
 of our coaches as sooji as the death-rate diminishes, and 
 this odious weather breaks up." 
 
 "Your ladyshi]) is all goodness. I shall go where my 
 lode-star leads," answered Denzil, looking at Angela, and 
 blushing at the audacity of his speech. 
 
 lie was one of those modest lovers who rarely bring a 
 blush to the cheek of the beloved object, but are so poor- 
 spirited as to do most of the blushing themselves. 
 
 A week later LadyFareham could do nothing but praise 
 that severe weather Avbich she had pronounced odious, for 
 her husband, coming in from Oxfo: d after a ride along the 
 road, deep with melting snow, brought the news of a con- 
 siderable diminution in the London death-rate ; and the 
 more startling news that his majesty had removed to "White- 
 hall for the quicker despatch of business with the Duke of 
 Albemarle,, albeit the diminished rate of mortality still 
 reckoned fifteen hundred deaths from the pestilence in the 
 previous week, and although not a carriage appeared in the 
 deserted streets of the metropolis except those in his 
 majesty's train. 
 
 " How brave, how admirable ! " cried Hyacinth, clap- 
 ping her hands in the exuberance of 
 
 joy- 
 
 we 
 
\:f. 
 
 il i 
 
 I 
 
 \'i ! 
 
 r 
 
 \i 
 
 tl 
 
 pi I 
 
 194 
 
 When TIic World Was Younger. 
 
 can go to Loudon to-morrow, if horses and coaches can bo 
 niadu ready. Give your orders at once, Fareliuni, I bo- 
 seech you. The thaw has set hi. There will bo no snow 
 to stop us." 
 
 "There will be Hoods which may make fords impas- 
 sable." 
 
 ** We can avoid every ford — there is always a detour by 
 the lanes." 
 
 ** Have you any idea wliat the lanes will be like after 
 two feet do(^p of snow ? He sure, my love, you are happier 
 twangiuf^your lute by this lireside than you would be stuck 
 in a quagmire, perishing with cold in a windy coach." 
 
 " I will risk the quagmires and the windy coach. Oh, my 
 lord, if you ever loved me, let us set out to-morrow 1 I 
 languish for Fareham House — my basset-table, my friends, 
 my watermen to waft mo to and fro between Blackfriars 
 and AVestminster, the ^Middle Exchange. I have not 
 bought myself anything pretty since Christmas. Let us 
 go to-morrow." 
 
 ** And risk spoiling the prettiest thing you own — your 
 face — by a plague-spot." 
 
 *' The King is there — tlie plague is ended." 
 
 " Do you think he is a god, that the pestilence will flee 
 at his coming ? " 
 
 *< I think his courage is godlike. To bo the first to re- 
 turn to that abandoned city." 
 
 " What of Monk and the archbishop, who never left it ?" 
 
 "A rough old soldier! A churchman! Such lives 
 were meant to face danger. But his majesty ! A man for 
 whom existence should be one long holiday ? " 
 
 " He lias done his best to make it so ; but the pestilence 
 has shown him that there are grim realities in life. Don't 
 fret, dearest. We will go to town as soon as it is prudent 
 to make the move. Kings must brave great hazards, and 
 there is no reason that little people like us should risk our 
 
Lady Farcham's D 
 
 ;iy. 
 
 »95 
 
 lives becauso tliu ncHx-ssitius of State compel his inajcaty to 
 
 imperil his 
 
 'Wo shall bo luugJK-(l at if wo do iiotliastcii after 1 
 Let them laugh wlio pl.'usc. j ha 
 
 um. 
 
 :'d th 
 
 .' ])assi 
 
 the ordeal. Hyacinth. I .jon't want a Ht..,nd attack of tho 
 BickncHs; nor would 1 for worlds that you and your sister 
 Bhould run into tho nu>uch of .hin-er. Hesidc-s, you can 
 lose httlo pleasure by bcin- absent, for the i.Iayhouses aro 
 all closed, and tho court is in mourning for tho French 
 queen- mother." 
 
 "Poor Queen Anne!" si-bed Hyacinth. "She M'as 
 always kind to me. And to die of a cancer-after outliv- 
 ing those she most loved. King Louis would scarce be- 
 hove she was seriously ill, till she was at tlu^ point of death. 
 But wo know what mourning means at Whitehall— Udy 
 Castlemame in l)lack velvet, with forty thousand pounds 
 111 diamonds to enliven it ; a concert instead of a play, per- 
 haps, and tho King sitting in a corner whispc-ring with 
 ]\rrs. Stewart. But as for the contagion, you will .ce that 
 everybody will rush back to London, and that you and I 
 will be laughing-stocks." 
 
 The next week justilied La.ly Karcham's assertion As 
 soon as it M'as known that the King had estaldisbcd him- 
 self in AVhitohall, tho great people (;an.c back to their 
 London houses, and tho town began to 1111. It was as if 
 a god had smiled upon the smitten city, and that healincr 
 and happiness radiated from tho golden halo round that 
 anointed head. Was not this tho monarch of whom tho 
 most eloquent preacher of tho ago had written, " In the 
 arms of whoso justice and wisdom wo lie down in safety "" 
 London flung off her cerements— erased her plao-ue- 
 marks ; the dead-cart's dreadful bell no longer sounded in 
 the silence of an afflicted city. Collins no longer stood at 
 every other door ; the pits at Finsbury, in Tothill Fields 
 at Ishngtoa, were all filled up and trampled down, and the 
 

 n 
 
 ?» 
 
 ! 1 
 
 f il 
 
 196 
 
 When The World VVas Younger. 
 
 grass was bcginuihg to grow over the forgotten dead. The 
 judges came back to Westminster. London was alive again 
 — alive and healed ; basking in the sunshine of royalty. 
 Nowhere was London more alive in the month of March 
 tlian at Fareham House on tlie Thames, where the Fare- 
 ham liveries of green and gold showed conspicuous upon 
 his lordship's watermen, lounging about the stone steps 
 that led down to the water, or waiting in the terraced 
 garden, which was one of the finest on the river. Wher- 
 ries of various weights and sizes filled one spacious boat- 
 house, and in another handsome stone edifice Avith a vaulted 
 roof Lord Fareham's barge lay in state, glorious in cream 
 color and gold, with green velvet cushions and Oriental 
 carpets, as splendid as tliat blue-and-gold barge which 
 Charles had sent as a present to Madame, a vessel to out- 
 glitter Cleopatra's galley, when her ladyship and her friends 
 and their singing-boys and musicians filled it for a voyage 
 to Hampton Court. 
 
 The barge was used on festi\ e occasions or for country 
 voyages, as to Hampton or Greenwich ; the wherries 
 were in constant requisition. Along that shining water- 
 way rank and fashion, commerce and business, were mov- 
 ing backAvards and forwards all day long. That more 
 novel mode of transit, the hackney coach, was only resorted 
 to in foul weather, for the legislature had handicapped the 
 coaching trade in the interests of the watermen, and 
 coaches, were few and dear. 
 
 If Angela had loved the country, she was not less charmed 
 with London under its altered aspect. All this gayety and 
 splendor, this movement and brightness, astonished and 
 dazzled her. 
 
 " I am afraid I am very shallow-minded," she told Denzil, 
 when he asked her opinion of London. " It seems an en- 
 chanted place, and I can scarcely believe it is the same 
 dreadful city I saw a few months ago, when the dead were 
 
Lady Fareham's Day. igy 
 
 lying in the streets. Oh, how clearly it comes back to 
 me— those empty streets, the smoke of the fires, the 
 wretched ragged creatures begging for bread. I looked 
 down a narrow court, and saw a corpse lying there, and a 
 child wailing over it ; and a little way farther on a woman 
 flung up a window, and screamed out, " Dead, dead ! 
 The last of my children is dead ! lias God no relenting 
 mercy ? " ^ 
 
 '' It is curious, '^ said Hyacinth, '< how little the town 
 seems changed after all those horrors. I miss nobody I 
 know." ^ ^ 
 
 ' ' Nay, madam " said Denzil. <' There have only died one 
 hundred and sixty thousand people, mostly of the lower 
 classes, or at least that is the record of the bills ; but I 
 am told the mortality has been twice as much, for people 
 have liad a secret way of dying and burying their dead. 
 If your ladyship could have heard the account that Mr. 
 Milton gave me this morning of the sufferings he saw be- 
 fore he left London, you would not think the visitation a 
 light one." 
 
 " I wonder you consort with such a rebellious subject 
 as Mr. Milton," said Hyacinth. '' A creature of CromwcH's 
 who wrote with hideous malevolence and disrespect of the 
 niurdered king, who was in hiding for ever so long after 
 his majesty's return, and who now escapes a prison only 
 by the royal clemency." 
 
 " The King lacks only that culminating distinction of 
 having persecuted the greatest poet of the age in order to 
 stand equal to the bigots who murdered Giordano Bruno." 
 said Denzil. 
 
 "The greatest poet! Sure you would not compare 
 Milton with Waller?" 
 
 " Indeed, I would not, Lady Fareham. " 
 
 "Nor with Cowley, nor Denham— dear crack-brained 
 Denham ? " 
 
 * ■', 
 
198 
 
 When The World Was Youncfcr. 
 
 \ I 
 
 i 
 
 " N"or with Dcnliam. To my fancy he stands as high 
 above them as the pole-star over your ladyship's garden 
 lamps." 
 
 " A pamphleteer Avho has scribbled schoolboy Latin 
 verses, and a few short poems ; and let me see, a masque 
 — yes, a masque that he wrote for Lord Bridgewater's 
 children before the troubles. I have heard my father talk 
 of it. I think he called the thing ' Comus.'" 
 
 " A name that will live, Lady Fareham, when Waller 
 and Denham are shadows, remembered only for an occa- 
 sional couplet." , 
 
 " Oh, but who cares Avhat people Avill think two or three 
 hundred years hence ? Waller's versos jilcase us now. 
 The people who come after mo can 2)lease themselves, and 
 may read 'Comus' to their heart's content. I know his 
 lordship reads Milton, as he doe3 Shakespore, and all the 
 cramped old playwrights of Elizabeth's time. Henri, sing 
 us that song of Waller's, *' Go, lovely rose." I would give 
 all Mr. Milton has written for that perfection." 
 
 They were sitting on the terrace above the river in the 
 golden light of an afternoon that was fair and warm as 
 May, though by the calendar 'twas March. The capricious 
 climate had changed from austere winter to smiling spring. 
 Skylarks were singing over the fields at Hampstead, and 
 over the plague-pits at Islington, and all London was re- 
 joicing in blue skies and sunshine. Trade was awakening 
 from a death-like sleep. The theaters were closed, but 
 there were plays acted now and then at court. The Mid- 
 dle Exchange was alive with beribboned fops and painted 
 belles. 
 
 It was Lady Eareham's visiting day. The tall windows 
 of her salon were open to the terrace, French windows 
 that reached from ceiling to floor, like those at the Hotel 
 de Rambouillet, and which Hyacinth had substituted for 
 the small Jacobean casements when she took possession of 
 
Lady Fareham's Day. ,„. 
 
 her husband', ancestral mansion. Salon and terrace were 
 one on a balmy afternoon like this ; and her 1 Zhin' 
 guests wandered in and out at their ploLure. Iler itkevs 
 handing chocolate and cakes on s Ivor or .oU alver 
 were so many as to socm „bir|„it„„s ; and irthe llo ' 
 p.-cs,ded over by Angola, there was a still ehoi o re S: 
 ment to be ob ained at a tea-table, where tiny ouns of tt 
 
 e":itremr' ^"-' '''-•'-' '» "•- ^^''° '-^ *» 
 
 " Prythee, take yonr guitar and sing to ns, were it h„t 
 to ohango the conversation," cried Hy-iit. and D 
 
 He had all her ladyship's visitors, chiefly feminine 
 round h.m before he had finished the first ^Irse Tl^ 
 gift of song t uit exquisite touch upon the Spanish guitar 
 were irresistible. tuiiai 
 
 Lord Fareham landed at the lower flight of stops as tlie 
 song ended and came slowly along the terrace, salitn" 
 his wife's friends with a grave courtesy He bi'ougln n 
 amosphere of silence and restraint vdth him, i stL d 
 to some of his wife's visitors, for the babble t lat nsuTl y 
 heralds the end of a song was wanting. ^ 
 
 Most of Lady Parchams friends affected literature n,„l 
 pro essed familiarity with two book, which hid ctgM t] 
 public taste on opposite sides of the Channel, In Lo , on 
 people quoted Butlor, and vowed there was no w so "v 
 ^ the ,v.t in "Iludibras." In Paris, the cnltnred w re 
 all s rivnig to talk like liochefoucaula's " .llavim '• w ich 
 had lately delighteu the Oallio mind by the f^k l-i ei^m 
 tha drew eve.ybodys atteutioi, to somebody else's fl ili ™ 
 Ilimselt the vainest of men, 'tis scarce wonderful tin 
 
 i 
 
200 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 "Oh, now we shall hear nothing hut stale Roche- 
 foucauldisms, sneers at love and friendship, disparagement 
 of our ill-used sex. AYhcre has my grave husband been, 
 I wonder ? " said Hyacinth. " Upon my honor, Farehara, 
 your brow looks as somber as if it Avere burdened with the 
 care of the nation." , 
 
 "I have b'ien with one who has to carry the greater 
 part of that burden, my lady and my spirits may have 
 caught some touch of his uneasiness." 
 
 " You have been prosing with that pragmatical personage 
 at Dunkirk. Nay, I beg the ".ord Chancellor's pardon. 
 Clarendon House. Are not his marbles and tapestries 
 much finer than ours ? And yet he began life as a sneaking, 
 
 lawyer, the younger son of a small Wiltshire squire " 
 
 "Lady Farehani, you allow your tongue too much 
 licence " 
 
 " Nay, I speak but the common feeling. Everybody is 
 tired of a minister who is a hundred years behind the age. 
 He should have lived under Elizabeth." 
 
 "A pretty woman should never talk poHtics, Hyacinth." 
 
 " Of what else can I talk when the theaters are closed, 
 and you deny me the privilege of seeing the last comedy 
 performed at Whitehall. Is it not rank tyranny in his 
 lordship. Lady Sarah," turning to one of her intimates, 
 a lady who had been a beauty at the court of Henrietta 
 Maria in the beginning of the troubles, and who from old 
 habits still thought herself lovely and beloved, " I appeal 
 to your ladyship's common sense. Is it not monstrous to 
 deprive me of the only real diversion in the town ? I was 
 not allowed to enter a theater all last year, except when 
 his favorite Shakespere or Fletcher was acted, and that 
 was but a dozen times. I believe." 
 
 " Oh, hang Shakespere ! " cried a gentleman whose 
 periwig occupied nearly as mrch space against the blue of 
 of a vernal sky as all the rest of his dapper little person. 
 
Lady Fareham's Day. 
 
 201 
 
 " Giul, my lord, it is vastly old-fashioned in yonr lordship 
 to taste Shakes])ore," protested Sir Ralph Masaroon, shak- 
 ing a cloud of pulvilio out of iiis cataract of curls. 
 " There was a pretty enough i)lay concocted t'other day 
 out of two of his— a tragedy and comedy—" Measure for 
 Measure" and " Much Ado about Nothing," the interstices 
 fdled in with the utmost ingenuity. ^But Shakespere 
 unadulterated— faucrh ! " 
 
 " I am a fantastical person, perhaps, Sir Ralph ; but I 
 would rather my wife saw ten of Shakesperc's plays— in 
 spite of their occasional coarseness— than one of your modern 
 comedies." 
 
 " I should revolt against such tyranny," said Lady Sarah. 
 "I have always appreciated Shakespere, but I adore a 
 witty comedy, and I never allowed my husband to dictate 
 to me on a question of taste. 
 
 "Plays which her majesty patronizes can scarcely be 
 unfit entertainment for her subjects," remarked another 
 lady. 
 
 "Our Portuguese queen is an excellent judge of the 
 niceties of our language," said Fareham. " I question if 
 she understands five sentences in as many acts." 
 
 ''Nor should I understand anything low or vulgar," 
 said Hyacinth. 
 
 " Then, madam, you are best at home, for the whole 
 entertainment would be Hebrew to you." 
 
 " That cannot be," protested Lady Sarah ; " for all our 
 plays are written by gentlemen. The hack writers of King 
 James's time have been shoved aside. It is the mark of a 
 man of quality to write a comedy." 
 
 ^"It is a pity that fine gentlemen should write foul jests. 
 Nay, it is a subject I can scarce speak of with patience, 
 when I remember what the English stage has been, and 
 hear what it is ; when I recall what Lord Clarendon has 
 told me of his majesty's father, for whom Shakespere was 
 
V) 
 
 r (I 
 
 I'.jf}^ 
 
 W 1 ii 
 
 »!• 
 
 I 
 
 I ! 
 
 5 
 
 202 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 a closet companion, who loved all that was noblest in the 
 drama of the Elizabethan age. Time, which should have 
 refined and improved the stage, has sunk it in ignominy. 
 We stand alone among nations in our Avorship of the ob- 
 scene. You have seen plays enough in Paris, Hyacinth. 
 Kccall the themes that pleased you at the Marais and the 
 Hotel de Bourgogno ; the stories of classic heroism, of 
 Christian fortitude, of manhood and womanhood lifted to 
 the sublime. You who, in your girlhood, were familiar 
 with the austere genius of Corneille " 
 
 " I am sick of that Frenchman's name," interjected 
 Lady Sarah. " Saint Evremond was always praising him, 
 and had the audacity to j^ronounce him superior to Dry- 
 den ; to compare ' Cinna' with the ' Indian Queen.'" 
 
 "A comparison which makes one sorry for Mr. Dryden," 
 said Fareham. " I have heard that Conde, when a young 
 man, was affected at the scene between Augustus and his 
 foe." 
 
 " He must have been very young," said Lady Fareham. 
 " But I am not going to depreciate Corneille, or to pre- 
 tend that the French theater is not infinitely superior to 
 our own. I would only protest that if. our laughter-loving 
 king prefers farce to tragedy, and rhyme to blank verse, 
 his subjects should accommodate themselves to his taste, 
 and enjoy the plays he likes. It is a foolish prejudice 
 that deprives me of such a pleasure. I could always go in 
 a mask." 
 
 " Can you put a mask upon your mind, and preserve that 
 unstained in an atmosphere of corruption ? Indeed, your 
 ladyship does not know what you are asking for. To sit 
 and simper through a comedy in which the filthiest sub- 
 jects are discussed in the vilest language ; to see all that is 
 foolish or lascivious in your own sex exaggerated with a 
 malignant licence, which makes a young and beautiful 
 woman an epitome of all the vices, uniting the extreme 
 
Lady Fareham's Day. 203 
 
 of masculine profligacy with the extreme of feminine 
 silliness. Will you encourage by your presence the wretches 
 Avho libel your sex ? Will you sit smiling to see your sisters 
 in the pillory of satire ? " 
 
 "I should smile as at a fairy tale. There are no such 
 
 women among my friends " 
 
 " And if the^ satire hits an enemy, it is all the more 
 pungent," said Lady Sarah. 
 
 " An enemy ! The man Avho can so write of women is 
 your worst enemy. The day will come, perhaps, long 
 after we are dust, when the women in ' Epsom Wells ' will 
 be thought pictures from life. ' Such an one,' people will 
 say, as they stand to read your epitaph, ' was this Lady 
 Sarah, whose virtues are recorded here in Latin superla- 
 tives. We know her better in the pages of Shadwell' " 
 
 Lady Sarah paled under her rouge at that image of a 
 tomb, as Fareham's falcon eye singled her out in the light- 
 hearted group of which De Malfort was the central figure, 
 sitting on the marble balustrade, swinging his legs, in an 
 easy, impertinent attitude, and dandling his guitar. She 
 was less concerned at the thought of what posterity might 
 say of her morals than at the idea that she must inevitably 
 die. ^ 
 
 " N"ot a word against Shad," protested Sir Ralph. " I 
 have roared with laughter at his last play. Xcver did any 
 one so hit tlie follies of town and country. Ilis rural put 
 is perfection ; his London rook is to the very life." 
 
 " And if the generality of his female characters conduct 
 themselves badly there is always one heroine of irreproach- 
 able morals," said Lady Sarah. 
 
 "Who talks like a moral dragon," said Fareham. 
 
 " Oh, dem, we must have playhouses," cried Masaroon. 
 " Consider how dull town is without them. They are the 
 only assemblies that please quality and ritfraff alike. Sure 
 'tis the nature of wit to bubble into licentiousness, as cham- 
 
 \\ 
 

 I 
 
 1« 
 
 m 
 
 III ft 
 
 ) > 
 
 
 ^t 
 
 t 
 
 204 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 I ' 
 
 luigno foams over the rim of a glass ; und, after all, who 
 listens to the play ? Half the time one is talking to 
 some i)retty miss, who will swallow a compliment from 
 a stranger if he offer it with a china orange. Or, per- 
 haps, there is quarreling, and all our eyes and ears are 
 on the seufflers. One may ogle a pretty actress on the 
 stage ; but who listens to the play, except the cits and 
 conmionalty ?" 
 
 " And even they are more eyes than ears," said Lady 
 Sarah, " and are gazing at the King and Queen, or the 
 Duke and Duchess, Avhen they should be following an in- 
 trigue by Shadwell or Dryden." 
 
 " Pardieu ! " exclaimed Do Malfort, " there are trage- 
 dies and comedies in the boxes deeper and more human 
 than anything that is acted on the stage. To watch the 
 Queen, sitting silent and melancholy, while Madam Bar- 
 bara lolls across half a dozen people to talk to his maj- 
 esty, dazzling him with her brilliant eyes, bewildering him 
 by her daring speech. Or, on the otiier nights, to see the 
 same lady out of favor, sitting apart with an ivory shoulder 
 turned towards royalty, scowling at the audience like a 
 beautiful thunder-cloud. " 
 
 "Well, it is but natural, perhaps, that such a court 
 should inspire such a stage, and that for the heroic drama 
 of Beaumont and Fletcher, Webster, Massinger, and 
 Ford, we should have a gross caricature of our own follies 
 and our own vices. Nay, so essential is foulness to the 
 modern stage, that when the manager ventures a serious 
 play, he takes care to introduce it with 3ome filthy pro- 
 logue, and to spice the finish with a filthier ejiilogue." 
 
 "Zounds, Fareham! " cried Masaroon, "when one has 
 yawned or slept through five acts of dull heroics one needs 
 to be stung into Avakefulness by a high-spiced epilogue. 
 For my taste your epilogue can't be too pungent to give a 
 flavor to my oysters and rhenish. Gud, my lord, we must 
 
inaj- 
 
 Lady Fareham's Day. 20|i 
 
 have something to talk about wlien we leave the play- 
 house." 
 
 "His lordship is spoilt ; we are all spoilt for London after 
 having lived in the most exquisite city in the world," 
 drawled Mrs, Danville, one of J^ady Fareham's })artieular 
 friends, who had been educated at the Visitandines with the 
 Princess Ileurietta, now Duchess of Orleans. " Who can 
 tolerate the coarse maimers and sea-coal fires of London after 
 the smokeless skies and exquisite courtesies of Parisian good 
 company, in the Rue Saint Thomas du Louvre— a society so 
 refined that a fault in grammar shocks as much as a slit nose 
 at Charing Cross. I shudder when I recall the Saturdays 
 in the Rue du Temple, and compare the conversations there, 
 the play of wit and fancy, the elaborate arguments upon 
 platonic love, the graceful raillery, with any assembly in 
 London— except yours, Hyacinth. At Fareham House we 
 breathe a finer air, although his lordship's esprit moqueur 
 will not allow us any superiority to the coarse English mob." 
 
 "Indeed, Mrs. Danville, even your prejudice cannot deny 
 London fine gentlemen and wits," remonstrated Sir Ralph. 
 "A court that can l)oast a Buckhurst, a Rochester, an 
 Etherege, a Sedley " 
 
 " There is not one of them can compare with Voiture or 
 Godeau, with Bussy or Saint Evremond, still less with Scar- 
 ron or Moliere," said De Malfort. " I liave heard more wit 
 in one evening at Scarron's than in a week at Whitehall. 
 Wit in France has its basis in thought and erudition. 
 Here it is the sparkle and froth of empty minds, a trick of 
 speech, a knack of saying brutal things under a pretense 
 of humor, vanishing real impertinence with mock wit. I 
 h^ve heard Rowley laugh at insolences which, addressed 
 to Louis, would have ensured the speaker a year in the 
 Bastille." 
 
 '' I would not exchange our easy-tempered king for your 
 graceful despot. Pride is the mainspring that moves that 
 
 
 i: 
 
ii, 1 
 
 ■ f 
 
 im 
 
 ri]5 
 
 ili 
 
 V 
 
 h 
 
 
 
 206 
 
 When The World Was Younfjcr. 
 
 self-absorbed soul. His mother instilled it into his mind 
 almost before he could speak. He was bred in the belief 
 that he has no more parallel or fellow than the sun which 
 he has chosen for his emblem. And then, for moral worth, 
 he is little better than his cousin. Louis has all Charles's 
 elegant vices, plus tyranny." 
 
 " Louis is every inch a king. Your easy-tempered gentle- 
 man at Whitehall is only a tradition," said Do Malfort. 
 
 " He is but an extravagantly paid official whose office is 
 a sinecure, and who sells something of his prerogative every 
 session for a new grant of money. I dare adventure, by 
 the end of his reign, Charles will have done more than 
 Cromwell to increase the liberty of the subject, and to prove 
 the insignificance of kings." 
 
 "I doubt the easy-tempered sinecurist who leaves the 
 business of the State to his Parliament Avill wear longer than 
 your officious tyrant, who wants to hold the strings in hia 
 own fingers." 
 
 *'He may do that safely, so long as he has men like 
 Colbert for puppets " 
 
 ** Men ! " cried Fareham. " A man of so rare an honesty 
 must not be thought of in the plural. Colbert's talent, 
 probity and honor constitute a phoenix that appears once 
 in a century ; and, given those rare qualities in the man, 
 it needs a Richelieu to inspire the minister, and a Mazarin 
 to teach him his craft, and to prepare him for the artifices 
 of politicians which his own direct mind could never have 
 imagined. Trained first by one of the greatest, and next 
 by one of the subtlest statesmen the world has ever seen, 
 the provincial woolen draper's son has all the qualities 
 needed to raise France to the pinnacle of fortune, if hia 
 master will but give him a free hand." 
 
 ''At any rate, he will make Jacques Bonhomme pay hand- 
 somely for his majesty's new palaces and ne.i- loves, " said 
 De Malfort. " Colbert adores the king, and is blind to his 
 
Lady Farcham's Day. 
 
 207 
 
 than the vulgar 
 
 follies, which are no more economical 
 pleasures of your master here." 
 
 "Who takes four shillings in every country gentleman's 
 pound to spend on the pleasures of London," interjected 
 Masaroon. " Royalty is plaguey expensive." 
 
 The company sighed a molancholy assent. 
 
 "And one can never tell whether the money they sriueozo 
 out of us goes to build a new ship, or to pay Lady Castle- 
 maine's gani])ling debts," said Lad) Sarali. 
 
 " Oh, no doubt tlie lady, as Hyde calls her, has her tithes," 
 said De Malfort. " I have observed she always llames in 
 new jewels after a subsidy." 
 
 " Royal accounts should bo kept so that every tax-payer 
 could look into them," said Masaroon. " The King has 
 spent millions. We were all so foolishly fond of him in the 
 joyful day of his restoration that we allowed him to wallow 
 in extravagance, and asked no questions ; and for a man 
 who had worn threadbare velvet and tarnished gold, and 
 lived upon loans and gratuities from foreign princes and 
 particulars, it was anew sensation to draw ad libitum upon 
 a national exchequer." 
 
 " The exchequer Rowley draws upon should be as deep 
 and wide as the river Pactolus ; for he is a spendthrift by 
 instinct, " said Fareham. 
 
 " Yet his largest expenditure can hardly equal his cousin's 
 drain upon the revenue. Mansart is spending millions on 
 Versailles, with his bastard Italian architecture, his bloated 
 garlands and festoons, his stone lilies and pomegranates. 
 Charles builds no palaces, initiates no war " 
 
 " And will leave neither palace nor monument ; will have 
 lived only to diminish the dignity and importance of his 
 country. Restored to kingdom and power as if by a miracle, 
 he makes it his chief business to show Englishmen how 
 well they could have done witliout him," said Denzil 
 Warner, who had been hanging over Angela's tea-table 
 
Ni 
 
 (t 
 
 
 ifliar 8 5: 
 
 «af Wlicn The World Was Younrrcr. 
 
 sum just now, whcMi they hoth smnntoredon totho terrace 
 tiie luuj-.^ omcc being fnUilled, tJ.. liUle Chinese tounot 
 eniptied u/ its costly contents, and the tiny teacups duly 
 distribute.1 among the modish lew who liked, or at least 
 prcstended to relish the now drink. 
 
 "You are a repul.lican, Sir Denxii, fostered by an ar- 
 rant demagogue," ex.laimcd Masaroon. with a coiitempt- 
 uous shake of ius shoulder-ribbons. - You hate the kintr 
 because he is a kinir " 
 
 "No, sir, I desi)iso him because ho is so mucli less than 
 
 a king. Nobody could hate Charles the Second. He is 
 not big enough." 
 
 '' Oh, dem, we want no meddlesome kings to quarrel 
 with tlioir neighbors, and set Europe by tlie ears. The 
 treaty of the Pyrenees may bo a line thing for Franco : but 
 how many noble gentlemen's lives it cost, to say nothing of 
 the common people. Itowley is the finest gentleman in 
 ins kingdom, and the most good-natured. Eh, gud sirs » 
 what more would you have ?" 
 
 "A mn--Iike Henry the Eifth-or Oliver Cromwell- 
 or Elizabeth." 
 
 "Faith, she had need possess the manly virtues, for she 
 must Jiave been a plaguey unattractive female-a sour 
 lantorn-jawed spinster, with all the inclinations but none 
 ot tno qualities of n coquette." 
 
 - Greatness has the privilege of small failings, o- it 
 would scarce be human. Elizabei]i and Julius C-rar 
 might be excused some harmless vanities." 
 
 
 
 _ The spring evenings were now mild enough for promenad- 
 mg St. J np.s Park, and the Mall was crowded night after 
 !!!TilMt •'; ^^^"^P^^y^^il^ondon. Hyacinth walked 
 m the Mr. J, ,.n a-.j,,ared occosionally in her coach in Hyde 
 Park; bun .ht ^-opeatedly -mmded her friends how in- 
 
Lady Faicluun's Day. 
 
 lerior was t ho niill-roimri ..f n ■ . , 
 
 throned in hcT W„m,,l„.| ,oL, , 0,7 , ™"'^ ""■ 
 evenings of tl,o «.,1.U.„ ,„,,t, w ■,■„ ,' , '' 7 r,""""'' 
 now, wlion tl,o rosy rivor i,„sl„Vl I ''''' '■™''> 
 
 »nathog,itt„rin/.pi::^;;';',tt ;•;,, ir™':;''-^' 
 caeot:;;t'iH:^;rT;::;;:r^t,r!ri;:';T-^':i^^^ 
 
 palace. To romoml.r tln.t"f„ir I, , ; f, " ' """■'™ 
 
 rtaro at thorn. Hore halt tl.o w, ^ I .'° T° v 
 
 ashamed of the ,,Iaco in wl.id, tl ^ I 7'' 'r, " ' r '' 
 wore hnstlings and jostling,, „,„, ,.J, ", ! 'j, , 7, 'j'™ 
 qnarrels, which f,ni.,l,ed in tho fiolds l,oI i ,7^ 1 ° 
 
 IIouso, or on the lon.ly waste rf l,Tr *"'"""""''•"" 
 riversido at Barn EIn.s Hattersca, or by the 
 
 noarly every evening, aligl.ilgV:;:";,'..;:;; i^ r:,.rX 
 and retunung to it at anotlier, on },er wiv to holl i ^ 
 She took Angda ..th i.or ; and Do M Zru':" si; d"' 
 zU were generally in attondauce upon them In r,"' 
 votion stopping at nothing cxcent IZT ^ I ' '^'^ 
 for whieh he had not mLt'S cou'lT T 'V?'"'' 
 that had lasted half a vear ^ "' ^ friendship 
 
 " Because there was one so favored i. Eudymion, am I 
 
210 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 to hope for tlie moon to come clown mid give herself to me ?** 
 hesaia one day, when Lady Fareham had rebuked him 
 for his reticence. " I know your sister does not love me, 
 yet I hang on, hoping that love will come suddenly, like 
 the coming of spring, which is ever a surprise. And even 
 if I am never to win her, it is happiness to see her and to 
 talk with her. I will not spoil my chance by rashness ; I 
 will not hazard banishment from her dear company. I 
 would rather be her friend than any other woman's lover.'' 
 " She is lucky in such an admirer " sighed Hyacinth. 
 "A silent, respectful passion is the rarest thing nowadays. 
 The loveliest woman in London is not thought worth the 
 patience of a long courtship. Well, you deserve to con- 
 quer, Denzil ; and if my sister were not of the coldest 
 nature I ever met in woman she would have returned your 
 passion ages ago, when you were so much in her company 
 at Chilton." ^ 
 
 "I can afford to wait as long as the Greeks waited before 
 Troy," said Denzil ; " and I will be as constant as they 
 were. If I cannot be her lover I can be her friend, and 
 her protector." 
 
 " Protector ! Nay, surely she needs no protector out-of- 
 dooiri, when she has Fareham and me within !" 
 
 " Beauty has always need of defenders." 
 
 "Not such beauty as Angela's. In the first place, her 
 charms are of no dazzling order ; and in the second, she 
 has a coldness of temper and an old-fashioned wisdom 
 which would safeguard her amidst the rabble rout of 
 Comus. Lideed, I have sometimes thought her like the 
 lady your friend describes." 
 
 " She has indeed — 
 
 ' The virtuous mind, tliat ever walks attended 
 By a strong-siding champion, Conscience."* 
 
 —answered Denzil, thoughtfully. " And I believe you are 
 
The Sage Of Sayes Court. 
 
 211 
 
 right, LacVFareham. Temptation coukl not touch her 
 Sin even tlio subtlest, could not so disguise itself th xt he; 
 purity would not take alarm. Yes ; she is Hk H i" 
 lady Ihe empter could not touch the freedom of he 
 mmd Sn.lul love would wither at a look from those pllre 
 
 He turned away suddenly and walked to the window 
 Denzil, why what is the matter ? You are weeping /'' 
 Forgive me," he said, recovering himself. -Indeed 
 
 you b'^.'oler^^'^ ' ''*'" "'' '^ '''''' '''™ ^'" ' -- -" 
 
 them' ^^^"^ ^""'^'"^^' ^''' ^''""'^'^ '^"'^ ^'' ^'''^ ^^^^"^ ^« kiss 
 "I swear you are losing all your Anabaptist stiffness 
 You will be ruffling it in Covent Garden with Buckhurs 
 and his crew before long." ^ucKuurst 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE SAGE OF SAYES COURT. 
 
 One of Angela's letters to her convent companion, the 
 chosen fnend and confidant of childhood ancl girll oo 
 Leonie de Ville, now married to the Baron de Lulie 
 and established m a fine house in the Place Royale 1 
 bes depict her life and thoughts and feelings duHngl 
 tirst London season. *= 
 
 -You tell me chc^re that this London, which I have 
 painted m somewhat brilliant colors, must be a poor place 
 compared with your exquisite city; but, indeed, despite 
 
I' 
 
 H > 
 
 Si 
 
 If 
 
 
 Hi J 
 
 IL 
 
 212 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 all you say of the Cours la Reinc, and your splendor of 
 gilded coaches, fine ladies, and noble gentlemen, who ride 
 at your coach windows, talking to you as they rein in their 
 spirited horses, I cannot think that your fashionable prome- 
 nade can so much surpass our Ring in Hyde Park, where 
 the court airs itself daily in the new glass coaches, or outvie 
 for gayety our Mall in 8t. James's Park, where all the 
 world of beauty and wit is to be met walking up and down 
 in the gayest, easiest way, everybody familiar and acquaint- 
 ed, with the exception of a few women in masks, who are 
 never to be spoken to or spoken about. Indeed, my sister 
 and I have acquired the art of appearing neither to see nor 
 to hoar objectionable company, and pass close beside fine 
 flaunting masks, rub shoulders with them, even— and all 
 as if we saw them not. It is for tliis that Lord Fareham 
 hates London. Here, ho says, vice takes the highest place, 
 and flaunts in the sun, while virtue blushes, and steals by 
 with averted head. But though I wonder at this court of 
 AVhitehall, and the wicked woman Avho reigns empress there 
 and the neglected queen, and the ladies of honor, whose 
 bad conduct is on every one's lips, I wonder more at the 
 people and the life you describe at the Louvre, and Saint 
 Germain, and Fontainebleau, and your new palace of 
 Versailles. 
 
 '' Indeed, Leonie, tlie world must bo in a strange way 
 when vice can put on all the grace and dignity of virtue, 
 and hold an honorable place among good and noble women. 
 My sister says tluit Madame de Montausier is a woman of 
 stainless character, and her husband the proudest of men, 
 yet you tell me that both husband and .wife are full of kind- 
 ness and favors for that unhappy Mademoiselle de la Val- 
 Mre, whose position at court is an open insult to your poor 
 queen. Have queens often been so unhappy, I wonder, as 
 her majesty here, and your own royal mistress ? One at 
 least was not. The martyred king was of all husbands the 
 
The Sage Of Sayes Court. 213 
 
 most constant and aifectionato, and, in the opinion o^' 
 many, lost his kingdom chiefly through his fatal indulgence 
 of Queen Henrietta's caprices, and his willingness to be 
 governed by her opinions in circumstances of difficulty 
 where only the wisest heads in the land should have coun^ 
 selled him But how I am wandering from my defence of 
 this beautiful city against your assertion of its inferioritv 
 I hope, chere, that you will cross the sea some day, and 
 allow my sister to lodge you in this house where I write • 
 and when you look out upon our delightful river, with its' 
 gay traffic of boats and barges passing to and fro, and its 
 palaces rising from gardens and Italian terraces on either 
 side of the stream ; when you see our ancient catliedral of 
 St. Paul, and the Abbey of St. Peter, lying a little back 
 from the water, grand and ancient, and somewhat gloomy 
 m Its massive bulk ; and eastward, the fortress-prison, with 
 Its four towers, and the ships lying in tlie Pool, and fertile 
 Bermondsey with its gardens and convents, and all the 
 beauty of verdant shores between the city and Creenwich, 
 you will own that London and its adjacent villages can 
 compare favorably witli any metropolis in the world 
 
 j; The only complaint one hears is of its rapid growth, 
 which IS fast encroaching upon the pleasant fields and 
 rustic lanes behind tlie Lamb's Conduit and Southampton 
 House ; and on the western side spreading so rapidly that 
 «iere will soon be no country left between London and 
 Knightsbridge. 
 
 ';lt was only lust Tuesday that I had the opportunity of 
 seeing more of the city tlian I had seen previously-and at 
 Its best advantage as seen from the river. Mr. Evelyn of 
 Sayes Court, had invited my sister and his lordship to visit 
 his house and gardens. He is a great gardener and arbori- 
 culturist, as you may have heard, for ho has traveled much 
 on the Continent, and acquired a reputation for his knowl- 
 edge of trees and flowers. 
 
 ,%■■ 
 
li . 
 
 ri. 
 
 214 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 "We were all invited— the Fareliams, and my niece 
 Ilenriette ; and even I, whom Mr. Evelyn had seen but 
 once, was included in the invitation. We were to travel by 
 water, in his lordship's barge, and Mr. Evelyn's coach was 
 to meet us at a landing-place not far from his house. We 
 were to start in the morning, dine with him, and return 
 to Fareham House before dark. Ilenriette was enchanted, 
 and I found her at her prayers on Monday night praying 
 Saint Swithin, whom she believed to have care of the 
 weather, to allow no rain on Tuesday. 
 
 " She looked so pretty next morning, dressed for the 
 
 journey, in a light blue cloth cloak embroidered with silver, 
 
 and a hood of the same ; but she brought me bad ncAvs— 
 
 my sister had a feverish headache, and begged us to go 
 
 without her. I went to Hyacinth's room to try to persuade 
 
 her to go with us, in the hope that the fresh air along the 
 
 river would cure her headache ; but she had been at a 
 
 dance overnight, and was tired, and would do nothing but 
 
 rest in a dark room all day— at least, that was her resolve 
 
 in the morning ; but later she remembered that it was 
 
 Lady Lucretia Topham's visiting day, and, feeling better, 
 
 ordered her chair and went off to Bloomsbury Square,' 
 
 where she met all the wits full of a new play which had 
 
 been acted at Whitehall, the public theaters being still 
 
 closed on account of the late contagion. 
 
 "They do not act their plays here as often as your 
 Moliere is acted at the Hotel de Bourgogne. The town is 
 constant in nothing but wanting perpetual variety, and 
 the stir and bustle of a new play, which gives something 
 for the wits to dispute about. I think we must have 
 three playwrights to one of yours ; but I doubt if there is 
 wit enough in a dozen of our writers to equal your Moliere, 
 whose last comedy seems to surpass all that has gone 
 before. His lordship had a copy from Paris last week, 
 and read the play to us in the evening. He has no accent^ 
 
The Sage Of Sayes Court. 215 
 
 and reads French beautifully, with spirit and fire, and in 
 
 -riria^r 'n '""'' '''' ^^^^^^ ''^' ^ ^'"- ^^ 
 Welett Fareham House at nine o'clock on a IovpIv 
 
 ires m the cty since the warmer weather Jias freed our 
 
 uZ'z. r-t!™^^' ^"^ '^^ ^'y - --4 ™ 
 
 rowei3 m the Fareliam green velvet liveries, would have 
 pleased your eyes, which have ever loved splendor but 
 you m,ght have thought the master of this spondid barge 
 too omber m dress and aspect to become a scene wh fh 
 recalled Cleopatra's galley. To me there is much that t 
 intcrest„,g ,„ that severe and serious face, witl t ' ive 
 complexion and dark eyes, shadowed by tl o stronr 
 thoughtful brow. People who knew Lord\st IrHf; 
 hat my brother-m-Iaw has a look of that great, „„f„r! 
 tunate mau-sacrifiecd tostem the risingilood of rebellion 
 and sacrificed in vain. Fareham is his kin ,„„,? on t,» 
 mother's sule and may have perhaps something of h s p"we ! 
 fulmmd together with the rugged g,-andeur of his featlri 
 and the bent carriage of his shoulders, which some one th^ 
 other day called the Strafford stoop. 
 
 "I have been reading some of Lord Strafford's letters 
 and the account of his trial. Indeed he was an il used 
 man, and the victim of private hatred-from l", 
 and others-as much as of public faction. His trial and 
 cendenmatmn were scarce less nntair-though th f„ m 
 and tribunal may have been legal-than his master's a id 
 indeed did but forecast that most unwarrantable iulgmenf 
 s It not strange Uonie, to consider howmuch'of tf" cal 
 
 horyyonandlhave lived throughthat areyet soyoung' 
 But to me It IS strangest of all to see the people in thi 
 
 cjty, who abandon themselves as freely to a life of idle 
 
 pleasures and sinful folly_at least the majority of them- 
 
ii 
 
 ■:■ a 
 
 Ife. 
 
 il 
 
 
 i 
 
 \ li 
 
 1 * 
 
 i 
 
 , 
 
 
 I 
 
 11 
 
 
 
 1 1 
 
 r< «^j|n 
 
 
 P f 
 
 ' !H 
 
 . 
 
 
 H': 
 
 
 J 
 
 1 
 
 ! J 
 
 VH^ e ji < .:* 
 
 2lb 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 as if England had never seen the tragedy of the late 
 monarch's murder, or been visited by death in his most 
 horrible aspect, only the year lust past. My sister tolls 
 every one, smiling, that she misses no one from the circle 
 of her friends. She never saw the red cross on almost 
 every door, the coffins, and the uncoffined dead, as I saw 
 them one stifling summer day, nor heard the shrieks of 
 the mourners in houses where death was master. Nor 
 does she suspect how near she was to missing her husband, 
 who was hanging between life and death when I found 
 him, forsaken and alone. Ho never talks to me of those 
 days of sickness and slow recovery ; yet I think the memory 
 of them must be in his mind as it is in mine, and that this 
 serves as a link to draw us nearer than many a real brother 
 and sister. I am sending you a little picture which I made of 
 him from memory, for he has one of those striking faces 
 that paint themselves easily upon the mind. Tell me 
 how you, who are clever at reading faces, interpret this 
 one. 
 
 " Helas, how I wander from our excursion ! My pen 
 winds like the river which carried us to Deptford. Pardon, 
 cherie, si je m'oublie trop, mais c'est si doux de causer 
 avec une amie d'enfance. 
 
 " At the Tower stairs we stopped to take on board a 
 gentleman in a very fine peach-blossom suit, and with a 
 huge periwig, at which Papillon began to laugh, and had 
 to be chid somewhat harshly. He was a very civil-spoken, 
 friendly person, and he brought with him a lad carrying a 
 viol. He is an officer of the Admiralty, called Pepys, and 
 Fareham tells me a useful, indefatigable person. My 
 sister met him at Clarendon House two years ago, and 
 wrote to me about him somewhat scornfully ; but my 
 brother respects him as shrewd and capable, and more 
 honest than sucli persons usually are. We were to fetch 
 him to Sayes Court, where he also was invited by Mr. 
 
The Sage Of Sayes Court. 2,7 
 
 Evelyn ; and in talking to Ilonriotto and me, he expressed 
 great regret that hi, wife had not been invited Td h 
 pa.d niy n.eee con.pliments npon her graee and heantv 
 .^neh I con d but think very fnlson.e and showing wS 
 of J-dgment n> addressing a child. And then, seefnrmo 
 vexed, he hoped I was jealous ; at which I eonld lurdy 
 command my anger, and rose in ahull and left him iiul 
 ho was a person not easy to keep at a distance, .and wa 
 followmg me to the prow of the boat, when Fareham t ok 
 hold h.m by Ins cannon sleeve and led him to a seat 
 where he kept him talking of the navy and the g eal Zt 
 
 z:^::': ' '" "'"'" "■"" """ "^™ ^-^ >»"'»""' 
 
 " When we had passed the Pool, and the busy tradinsr- 
 sh^s, and all the noise of sailors and laborers shippfa; or 
 nnloadmg cargo, and the traffic of small boats hastening to 
 and fro, and were out on a broad reach of the river withfhe 
 green eonntry on either side, the lad tuned his vM and 
 played a pretty, pensive air, and he and Mr. PeZ san^ 
 some verses by Herrick, one of our favorite Enghshp^^ 
 set for two voices— ^ ^ ' 
 
 '" Gather ye rosebuds while ye may 
 Old Time still is a-flying ; 
 
 And this same flower that smiles to-day 
 To-morrow will be dying." ' 
 
 The boy h,ad a voice like Mere Ursule's lovely sonrano 
 and Mr. Pepys a pretty tenor ; and yon can Tmal; 
 
 no nngmoresdvcrysweetthanthennionofthetwovol es 
 to the staccato notes of the viol, dropping in here andThere 
 hke mus,o wlnspered. The setting L Mr. PeW own 
 »d he seemed overcome with pride when we prd ed™' 
 ^ hen the song was over, Fareham came to the bene where 
 Fapillon and I were sitting, and asked me what I though? 
 of th>s fine Admiralty gentleman, whereupon Iconfessed I 
 
 ?<■ 
 
 i I 
 
11. N 
 
 *i 
 
 I i 
 
 isi 
 
 I P 
 
 1 pm A I 
 
 2i8 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 liked the song bottn- than the singer, who at that moment 
 was struttuig on the deck like a peacock, looking at every 
 vessel we passed, as if he were Neptune, and could sink 
 navies with a nod. 
 
 " Misericorde, how my letter grows ! But I love to 
 prattle to you. My sister is all goodness to me, but she has 
 her ideas and I have mine ; and though Hove hor none the 
 less because our fancies pull us in opposite directions, I 
 cannot talk to her as I can write to you ; and if I plague 
 you with too much of my own history you must not fear to 
 tell me so. Yet if I dare judge by my own feelings, who 
 am never weary of your letters— nay, can never hear enough 
 of your thoughts and doings— I think you will bear with 
 my expatiations, and not deem them too impertinent. 
 
 '' Mr. Evelyn's coach was waiting at the landing-stage ; 
 and that good gentleman received us at his hall door. He 
 is not young, and has gone through much affliction in the 
 loss of his dear children— one, who died of a fever during 
 that wicked reign of the Usurper Cromwell, was a boy of 
 gifts and capacities that seemed almost miraculous, and 
 had more scliolarships at five years old than m^' poor woman's 
 mind could compass were I to live till fifty. Mr. Evelyn 
 took a kind of sad delight in talking to llenriette and me 
 of this gifted child, asking her what she knew of this and 
 that subject, and comparing her extensive ignorance at 
 eleven with his lamented son's vast knowledge at five. I 
 was more sorry for him than I dared to say ; for I could 
 but think this dear overtaught child might have died from 
 a perpetual fever of the brain as likely as from a four days' 
 fever of the body ; and afterwards when Mr. Evelyn talked 
 to us of a manner of forcing fruits to grow in strange 
 shapes— a process in which he was greatly interested— I 
 thought that this dear infant's mind had been constrained 
 and directed, like the fruits, into a form unnatural to 
 Childhood. Picture to yourself, Leonie, of an age when 
 
The Sage Of Saycs Court. 
 
 219 
 
 he should have been chasing butterflies or making himself 
 a garden of cut-flowers stuck in the ground, this child was 
 aboring over Greek and Latin, and all his dreams must 
 have been filled with the toilsome perplexities of his daily 
 tasks. It IS happy for the bereaved father that ho takes 
 a different view, and that his pride in the child's learning. 
 IS even greater than his grief at having lost him. 
 
 "At dinner the conversation was chiefly of public 
 affairs-the navy^ the war, the King, the Duke, and the 
 General. Mr. Evelyn told Fareham much of his em- 
 barrassments last year, when he had the Dutch prisoners 
 and the sick and wounded from the fleet in his charge, and 
 when there had been so terrible a scarcity of provisions for 
 these poor wretches that he was constrained to draw lur-elv 
 on Ins own private means in order to keep them from 
 starving. ^ 
 
 "Later, during the long dinner, Mr. Pepys made allu- 
 sions to an unhappy passion of his master and patron, my 
 Lord Sandwich, that had diverted his mind from public 
 business, and was likely to bring him to disgrace. JS^oth- 
 ing was said plainly about this matter, but rather in hints 
 and innuendoes, and my brother's brow darkened as the 
 conversation went on ; and then at last, after sitting silent 
 for some time while Mr. Evelyn and Mr. Pepys conversed, 
 he broke up their discourse in a rough, abrupt way he ha 
 when greatly moved. ^ 
 
 '-lie is awretch-a guilty wretch-to love where he 
 should not, and to hazard the world's esteem, to grieve his 
 wife, and to dishonor his name ! And vet, I wonder is he 
 happier in his sinful indulgence than if he had played'a Ro- 
 man part, or, like the Spartan lad we read of, had let the 
 wild-beast passion gnaw his heart out, and yet made no 
 sign ^ To suffer and die, that is virtue. I take it Mr 
 Evelyn ; and you Christian sages assure us that virtue is 
 happiness— a queer kind of happiness ! 
 
 N 
 
220 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 " 'The Christiiin's hiw is a hiw of Hacrifico,' Mr. Evelyn 
 Baid, in his melancholic way. "The harvest of surrender 
 here is to be garnered in a better world." 
 
 ** But if Sandwich does not believe in the golden fields 
 of the new Jerusalem — and prefers to anticipate his harvest 
 of l)li'ss ! " said Fareham. 
 
 " ' Then he is the more to be pitied/ interrupted Mr. 
 Evelyn. 
 
 " lie is as God made him. Nothing can come out of a 
 man but what his Maker put in him. Your gold vase 
 there will not turn vicious and jiroduce copper — nor can 
 all your alchemy turn copper to gold. There are some of 
 us who believe that a man can live only once, and love only 
 once, and be happy only once in that pitiful span of 
 infirmities which we call life ; and that he is wisest who 
 gathers his roses while he may — as Mr. Pepys sang to us 
 this morning. 
 
 ** Mr. Evelyn sighed, and looked at my brother with 
 mild reproof. 
 
 " ' If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of 
 all men miserable.-' he said. ' My lord, when those you 
 love people the heavenly city, you will begin to believe and 
 to hope as I do.' 
 
 *M have transcribed this conversation at full length, 
 Leonie, because it gives you the keynote to his lordship's 
 character, and accounts for much that is strange in his 
 conduct. Alas, that I must say it of so noble a man. He is 
 an infidel ! Bred in our Church he has faith neither in 
 the Church nor in its Divine Founder. His favorite books 
 are metaphysical works by Descartes, Hobbes, Spinoza. I 
 have discovered him reading those pernicious writings 
 whose chief tendency is to make us question the most 
 blessed truths our Church has taught us, or to confuse 
 the mind by leading us to doubt even of our own existence. 
 I was curious to know what there could be in books that 
 
The Sage Of Sayes Court. 221 
 
 so interested a man o! his intelligence, and asked to be 
 allowed to read them ; but the perusal only served to 
 make me unhappy. This daring attempt to reduce all 
 the mysteries of life to p simple sum in arithmetic, and to 
 make God a mere attril)ute in the mind of man, disturbed 
 and depressed me. Indeed, there can be no more unhappy 
 moment in any life than that in which for the first time 
 a terrible ' if ' flashes upon the mind. If God is not the God 
 I have worshiped, and in whose goodness I rest all my 
 hopes of future bliss ; if in the place of an all-powerful 
 Creator, who gave me my life and governs it, and will 
 renew it after the grave, there is notiiing but a rpiality of 
 my mind, which makes it necessary to me to invent a Supe- 
 rior Being, and to worship the product of my own imagina- 
 tion ! Oh, Leonie, beware of these modern thinkers, who 
 assail the creed tl^at has been the stronghold and comfort of 
 humanity for sixteen hundred years, and who employ the 
 reason which God has given them to disprove the existence 
 of their Maker. Fareham insists that Spinoza is a religious 
 man— and has beautiful ideas about God ; but I found 
 only doubt and despair in his pages ; and I ascribe my 
 poor brother's melancholic disposition in some part to his 
 study of such philosophers. 
 
 " I wonder what you would think of Fareham, did you 
 see him daily and hourly, almost, as I do. Would you 
 like or dislike, respect or scorn him ? I cannot tell. His 
 manners have none of the velvet softness which is the 
 fashion in London— Avhere all the fine gentlemen shape 
 themselves upon the Parisian model ; yet he is courteous, 
 after his graver mode, to all women, and kind and thought- 
 ful of our happiness. To my sister he is all beneficence ; 
 and if he has a fault it is overmuch indulgence of her 
 whims and extravagances— though Hyacinth, poor soul, 
 thinks him a tyrant because he forbids her some places of 
 amusement to which other women of quality resort freely. 
 

 11*!"^ 
 
 IHI 
 
 Li ■ '§* 
 H 1 5 
 
 fellfl 
 
 flS^ 
 
 222 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 Were ho my IiiisIkukI T should lionor him for liia desire to 
 Bpurc mo all evil ,souiuls and i)roJli-,'ato company ; and so 
 would iryuointh, i.t'rhui)8, Imd slio leisure for reflcetion. 
 But in her London life, surrounded ever with a bevy of 
 friends, moving like a star amidst a galaxy of great ladies, 
 there is little time for the free exercise of a sound judgment, 
 and she can but think as others bid bor who sweiir that 
 her husbaiul is a despot. 
 
 ** Mrs. Evelyn was absent from homo on a visit, so after 
 dinner Ilonrietto and I. having no hostess to entertain us, 
 walked with our host, wlic showed us all the curiosities 
 and beauties of his garden, and condescended to instruct 
 us upon many interesting i)articiilars relating to trees and 
 flowers, and tlie methods of cultivation i)ursued in various 
 countries. Ilis fig trees are as fine as those in the convent 
 garden at Louvain ; and, indeed, walking with him in a long 
 alley, shut in by holly hedges of which he is especially proud, 
 and with orchard trees on either side, I was taken back in 
 fancy to the old pathway along which you and I have 
 paced so often arm-in-arm, talking of the time when we 
 should go out into the world. You have been more than 
 three years in that world of which you then know so little, 
 but it lacks still a quarter of one year since I left that 
 quiet and so monotonous life ; and already I look back 
 and wonder if I ever really lived there. I caimot picture 
 myself within those walls, I cannot call back my own 
 feelings or my own image at the time when I had never 
 seen London, when my sister was almost a stranger to me, 
 and my sister's husband only a name. Yet a day of sorrow 
 might come when I should be fain to find a tranquil 
 retreat in that sober place, and to spend my declining 
 years in jirayer and meditation, as my dear auut did spend 
 nearly all her life. May God maintain us in the true 
 faith, sweet friend, so that we may ever have that sanctuary 
 of holy seclusion and prayer to fly to— and, oh, how deep 
 
The Sage Of Saycs Court. 
 
 223 
 
 should ho our pity for a «ou] like, Fun.|mn,'«. whi.-h knoMs 
 not the consolations nor the Ht.vn^rth of religion, for 
 whom there is no armor against the arrows of death no 
 city of refuge in the day of the mournin.r ' 
 
 "Indeed he is not happy. I .pu-sUon and perplex 
 myself to find a reason for his nu-laneholy. l\, is lu-h in 
 money and in powerful friends ; has a wife whom all the 
 world admires ; houses whieh might lodge royalty. l'.,.|,a„8 
 
 sickens af 1^, like one who llings away from a hanc.uet tah le 
 satiated by feasting. Life to him may he like he w a ! 
 ncss of our English dinners, where one mountain of fo d 
 18 carried away to make room on the hoard for another 
 and where after people have sat eating and .Irinking fl; 
 m^r an hour comes a roasted swan, or a peac.ek, or some 
 other fantastical dish, which the con- , any p aise as a 
 pretty surprise. Often, in the midst ol s^' if a d „ner 
 I recall our sparing meals in theconvent ; oursoupe mai^i^ 
 and snow-eggs, our cool salads and black bread-ind re^r I 
 that simple food, while the reeking joints and beta mb 
 of fowl nauseate my senses. "^"i"U8 
 
 "It was late in the afternoon when wo returned in +1,0 
 barge, for Mr Pc,,v. 1 ,.,„„„„„ „ .ra.l^'^U '„ ,,1"; 
 
 garden with Im ordxlup, eonversin,.,,,,,,,, vari„,,»s„b oc 
 
 am about Mr Evelyn, and hk „, „„, „„., ^,,,^^■,,1''''''''' 
 
 Ihe good man has a pretty trivial turto tliat will keen 
 hina amused and happy till l,e drops into the grave-Ct 
 lord what mspu-ed tr,.,h it all Beonm to the hearUntt 
 wth pass,on " Fareham said in hi, impctuoua ay, af 
 
 "St,n ^™^,^'."°'-""'K l'>™"™ i„ bag,tlle 
 Ihe sun Avas setting as wo iiassod Grocnwipb n,. ] t 
 thought of those wholnnl lived luufma ~'i, 1h 
 old palaoo-Queea Elizabeth, so great, so lonely fshak" 
 
 •-:l 
 
hJI 
 
 224 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 pere, whom his lordship honors ; Bacon, said to be one 
 of the wisest men who has lived since the seven of Greece ; 
 Raleigh so brave, so adventurous, so unhappy ! Surely 
 men and women must have been made of another stuff a 
 century ago : for what will history remember of the wits 
 and beauties of Whitehall, except that they lived and died. 
 " Mr. Pepys was somewhat noisy on the evening voyage, 
 and I was very glad when ho left the barge. He insisted 
 upon attempting several songs —not one of which he was 
 able to finish, and at last began one which for some reason 
 made his lordship angry, who gave him a cuff on his head 
 that scuttered all the scented powder in his wig ; on which, 
 instead of starting up furious to return the blow, as I 
 thought to see him, Mr. Pepys gave a little whimpering 
 laugh, muttered something to the effect that his lordship 
 was vastly nice, and sank down in a heap upon the cush- 
 ioned seat, where he almost instantly fell asleep. 
 
 ^ " Henriette and I were spectators of this scene at some 
 distance, I am glad to say, for all the length of the barge 
 divided us from the noisy singer. 
 
 " The sun went down, and the stars stole out of the 
 deep blue vault, and trembled between us and those vast 
 fields of heaven. Papillon watched their reflection in the 
 river, or looked at the houses along the shore, few and far 
 apart, where a solitary candle showed here and there. 
 Fareham came and seated himself near us, but talked 
 little. We drew our cloaks closer, for the air was cold, 
 and Papillon nestled beside me and dropped asleep. Even 
 the dipping of the oars had a ghostly sound in the night 
 silence, and we seemed so melancholy in this silence, and 
 so far away from one another, that I could but think of 
 Charon's boat laden with the souls of the dead. 
 
 "Write to me soon dearest, and as long a letter as I 
 have written to you. 
 
 " A toi de ccour, 
 
 "Angela/* 
 
The Millbank Ghost. 
 
 22i 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE MILLBA]S"K GHOST. 
 
 One of the greatest charms of London has ever been 
 the facility of getting away from it to some adjacent rustic 
 or pseudo-rustic spot, and in 1G6C, though many people 
 declared that the city had outgrown all reason, and was 
 eating up the country, a two-mile journey would carry the 
 Londoner from bricks and mortar, to rusticity, and while 
 the tower of St. Paul's Cathedral was still within sight he 
 might lie on the grass on a wild hillside, and hear the sky- 
 lark warbling in the blue arch above him, and scent the 
 hawthorn blowing in untrimmed hedgerows. And then 
 there were the fashionable resorts— the gardens or the fields 
 which the town had marked as its own. Beauty and wit 
 had their choice of such meeting grounds between West- 
 minster and Barn Elms, where in the remote solitudes 
 along the river murder might be done in strict accordance 
 with etiquette, and was too seldom punished by law. 
 
 Among the rendezvous of fashion there was one retired 
 spot less widely known than Fox Hall or the Mulberry 
 Garden, but which possessed a certain repute, and was 
 affected rather by the oxclusives than by the crowd. It 
 was a dilapidated building of immemorial age, known as 
 the "haunted abbey," being in fact the refectory of a 
 Cistercian monastery of which all other remains had dis- 
 appeared long ago. The abbey had flourished in tlie life- 
 time of Sir Thomas More, and was mentioned in some of 
 his familiar epistles. The ruined building had been used 
 as a granary in the time of Charles the First ; and it was 
 IS 
 
226 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 only within the last decade that it had been redeemed 
 from that degraded use, and had been in some measure 
 restored and made habitable for the occupation of an old 
 couple, who owned the surrounding fields, and who had a 
 small dairy farm from which they sent fresh milk into 
 London every morning. 
 
 The ghostly repute of the place and the attraction of 
 new milk, cheese cakes, and syllabubs, had drawn a certain 
 number of those satiated pleasure-seekers who were ever on 
 the alert for a new sensation, among whom there was no one 
 more active or more noisy than Lady Sarali Tewkesbury. 
 She had made the haunted abbey in a manner her own, had 
 invited her friends; to midnight parties to watch for the 
 ghost, and to morning parties to eat syllabubs and dance 
 on the grass. She had brought a shower of gold into the 
 lap of the miserly freeholder, and had husband and wife 
 completely under her thumb. 
 
 Doler, the husband, had fought in the civil war, and 
 Mrs. Doler had been a cook in the Fairfax household ; 
 but both had scrupulously sunk all Cromwellian associations 
 since his majesty's return, and in boasting, as he often did 
 boast of having fought desparately and been left for dead 
 at the battle of Brentford, Mr. Doler had been careful to 
 suppress the fact that he was a hireling soldier of the 
 Parliament. He would weep for the martyred king, and 
 tell the story of his own wounds, until it is possible he had 
 forgotten which side he had fought for in remembering 
 his prowess and sufferings. 
 
 So far there had been disappointment as to the ghost. 
 Sounds had been heard of a most satisfying grimness, during 
 thosu midnight and early morning watchings ; rappings, 
 and scrapings, and scratching on the wall, groanings and 
 meanings, sighings and whisperings behind the wainscote ; 
 but nothing spectral had been seen, and Mrs. Dolor had 
 been severely reprimanded by her patrons and patronesses 
 
 A ^ 
 
The Millbank Ghost. 227 
 
 for the unwarrantcable couduct of a specter which she 
 professed to have seen as often as she had fingers and 
 
 It was the phantom of a nun-a woman of exceeding 
 beauty, but white as the hnen which banded lier clieek anS 
 brow, i here was a dark story of violated oaths, priestly 
 sm and the sleepless conscience of tlie dead which could 
 not rest even m that dreadful grave where the sinner hud 
 been immured alive, but must needs haunt the footsteps 
 of the living, a wandering shade. Some there were who 
 disbelieved m the tradition of that living grave, and who 
 
 had an established repute of more than a century, was 
 firmly believed ill by all the children and old women 
 
 ^:!::^:!r''' ^"' '-' '--'' '"-'''-^ ^^^-^ ^^ ^^-^-^s 
 
 One of Lady Sarah's parties took place at full moon, not 
 long after the visit to Deptford, and Lord Fareham's bLr^e 
 was agam employed, this time on a nocturnal expedition 
 «P the nver to the fields near the haunted abbey, to carrv 
 Hyacinth, her sister, De Malfort, Lord Kochester, Sir 
 Eulph Masaroon, Sir Denzil Warner, and a bevy of wits 
 and beauties-beauties who had, some of them, been carrv- 
 mg on the beauty-business and trading the eyes and coin- 
 p exion for more than one decade, and who loved that 
 
 thfgl^^^^^^^^^^ ''''' ''''''' '' '^'' ^'' ^^-^- ^^- - 
 
 The barge wore a much more festive aspect under her 
 
 ladyship s management, than when used by his lordship 
 
 or a daylight voyage like the trip to Deptford. Satin 
 
 coverlets and tapestry curtains had been brought from Lady 
 
 Fareham's own apartments, to be flung with studied 
 
 carelessness over benches and taborets. Her ladvsliip', 
 
 «inging-boys and musicians were grouped picturesquely 
 
 under a silken canopy in the bows, and a row of lanterns 
 
 .N; 
 
 i I 
 
^r 
 
 228 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 'L II 
 
 \i ■ 
 
 %i 
 
 hung on chains festooned from stem to stern, pretty gew- 
 gaws, that luid no illuminating power under that all-potent 
 moon, but which glittered with colored light like jewels, 
 and twinkled and trembled in the summer air. 
 
 A table in the stern was spread with a light collation, 
 which gave an excuse for the display of parcel-gilt cups, 
 silver tankards, and Venetian wine flasks. A fountain 
 played perfumed waters in the midst of this splendor, and 
 it amused the ladies to pull off their long gloves, dip them 
 in the scented Avater, and flip them in the faces of their 
 beaux. 
 
 The distance was only too short, since Lady Fareliam's 
 friends declared the voyage was by far the pleasanter part 
 of the entertainment. Denzil, amongst others, was of this 
 opinion, for it Avas his good fortune to have secured the 
 seat next Angela, and to be able to interest her by his ac- 
 count of the buildings they passed, whose historical as- 
 sociations were much better known to him than to most 
 young men of his epoch. He had sat at the feet of a man 
 who scoffed at pope and king, and hated episcopacy, but 
 who revered all that Avas noble and excellent in England's 
 past, 
 
 "Flams, mere flams,'' cried Hyacinth, acknoAvledging 
 the praises lavished on her barge ; " but if you like clary 
 wine bettor than skimmed milk you had best drink a 
 brimmer or tAvo before you leave the barge, since 'tis odds 
 you'll get nothing but syllabubs and gingerbread from 
 Lady Sarah." 
 
 " A substantial supper might frighten away the ghost, 
 wh-« doubtless parted with sensual propensities Avhen she 
 died," said De Malfort. ^' Hoav do we watch for her ? In 
 a severe silence, as if we were at church ? " 
 
 " I Avould keep silence for a Aveek o' Sawbaths gin I was 
 sure 0' seeing a bogle," said Lady Euphemia Dubbin, a 
 Scotch marquis's daughter who had married a wealthy cit, 
 
The Millbank Ghost. 339 
 
 and made it the cluef endeavor of her hfe to ignore her hus- 
 band and keep him at a distance. She h^ted the man 
 ony a htte ess than his plebeian name, which she Id 
 not ucceeded m persuading- him to change, because for 
 sooth, there had been Dubbins in Mark Lane W n": 
 orations. A 1 previous Dubbins luul lived over tlu-ir ™. 
 houses and offices ; but her ladyship had brought Thomas 
 Dubbm from Mark Lane to my Lord Jiedford's Piazza inThe 
 Covent Garden, where he endured the tedium of existence 
 in a fine new house in whicli he w..s afraid of his fine new 
 servants, and never had anything to cat that he liked, his 
 gastronomic taste being for dislies tlie very name of which 
 were intolerable to persons of (,uality 
 
 This evening Mr. Dubbin had been incorrigible, and 
 b d msisted on intruding his clumsy person upon Lady 
 Farehams party arguing with a dull porsistonc; that his 
 name was on her ladyship's billet of invitation. 
 
 "Your name is on a great many invitations only be- 
 cause I IS my misfortune to be called by it," his wife told 
 him. To sit on a barge after ten o'clock at night in 
 June-the coarsest month in summer-is to court lum- 
 bago ; and all I hope is ye'll not be punished by a worse 
 attack than common." 
 Mr. Dubbin had refused to be discouraged, even by this 
 urhshness from his lady, and appeared in attendance 
 upon her, wearing a magnificent birthday suit of crimson 
 velvet and green brocade, whicli .. mean^ to present to 
 his favorite actor at the duke's theater, after he had exhib- 
 ited himself in it half a dozen times at Whitehall, for the 
 benefit of the great world, and at the Mulberry Garden for 
 the admiration of the bona robas. He was a fat, double- 
 clnnned little man, the essence of good-nature, and per- 
 fect y unconscious of being an offence to fine peopio 
 
 Altliougimot awit himself, Mr. Dubbin was occasionally 
 the cause of wit in others, if the practice of bubbling an 
 
 N- 
 

 »4L '! 'i 
 
 
 I 
 
 i ir \ 
 
 1»' 
 
 14^ 
 
 If ' 
 
 230 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 muocent rustic or citizen can be called wit. Kochester 
 and Sir Ralpli Masaroon, and one Jerry Spavinger, a gentle- 
 man jockey, who was a nobody in town, but a shining light 
 at Newmarket, took it upon themselves to draw the harm- 
 less citizen, and as a preliminary to making him ridiculous, 
 essayed to make him drunk. 
 
 They were clustered together in a little group somewhat 
 apart from the rest of the company, and were attended up- 
 on by a lackey who brought a full tankard at the first whistle 
 on the empty one, and whom Mr. Dubbin, after a rapid 
 succession of brimmers, insisted on caliing '"drawer." It 
 was very seldom that Rochester condescended to take part 
 in any entertainment v/hereon the royal sun shone not, 
 unless it were some post-midnight marauding with Buck- 
 hurst, Sedley and a banc) of wild coursers from the purlieus 
 of Drury Lane. He could see no pleasure in any medium 
 between Whitehall and Alsatia. 
 
 " If I am not fooling on the steps of the throne, let me 
 loll in the gutter with pamphleteers and orange-girls," said 
 this precocious profligate. '" I ablior a reputable party 
 among your petty nobility, and if I had not been in love 
 with Lady Fareham off and on, ever since I cut my second 
 teeth, I would have no hand in such a humdrum business 
 as this." 
 
 '' There's not a neater filly in the London stable than 
 her ladyshij)," said Jerry, "and I don't blame your taste. 
 I was side-glassing her yesterday in Hi' Park, but she didn't 
 seem to relish the manoeuvre, though I was wearing a 
 Chedreux peruke that ought to r-trike 'em dead." 
 
 *' You don't give your peruke a chance, Jerry, while you 
 frame that ugly phiz in it.'' 
 
 " Why not buffle the whole company, my lord ? " said 
 Masaroon, while Mr. Dubbin talked apart with LadyEu- 
 phemia, who had come from the other end of the barge to 
 warn her husband against excess in Rhenish or Burgundy. 
 
The Millbank Ghost. 331 
 
 only worked by-niLr X ."'r ^"'°"' "'™" '^ 
 do, witl,„„t knowing; ;•,,„/ :,;'''''t •.'' "^ "■""''"^^ 
 
 phosphor,:' toVmL ,";^- °' 'T" ""^^^^ ''"^ 
 paius to disguise mvsolf a, r "^ J' '' ™' "°''* -"X 
 
 to fool ti,e° loTer/ J ;" f :,7L,.T'rp^; ■'" "'■""' 
 
 won't easily (or.rct their •, 1™,? ™"'' P"<=e-wlio 
 
 heart of the cuf ™ ' f >^" "es as orange-girls in the 
 " Yn„ n ^' • '"" '^°"° "'"' "11 snch follies " 
 
 "Like Mrs. ZloTlT^Lt'" "' " *" ^"^^•" 
 
 'child ' onrl iioU'+i airogant, and calls me 
 
 -lice, but because^ luate ht t fo "°1 ,7^, u'"' "™ 
 masquerading sometime after midnkht f „ , °" 
 
 a little finery " mwuight , if yon can borrow 
 
 nods and i u kl"; t, ,e T''' ''°""'f '' "^^""''^ -'I' 
 
 * . 
 
11' 
 
 232 When The World Wi -, Younger. 
 
 Rochester was i^lanning ji trick upon the citizen Lady 
 Farcliam was wliispcring to De Malfort undei cover of tho 
 fiddles, which wore playing an Italian pazzernano, a dance 
 beloved by Marguerite of K^avarre, who danced to that 
 music with her royal brother-in-law, in one of the sump- 
 tuous ballets at Saint Cloud. 
 
 " Why should they be disappointed of their ghost ? " 
 said Hyacinth. '-'AVhen it would be so easy for me to 
 dress up as tho nun and scare them all. This white satin 
 gown of mine, with a few yards of white lawn arranged on 
 my head and shoulders '' 
 
 " Ah, but you have not the lawn at hand to-night, or 
 your woman to arrange your head,'' interjected De Mai- 
 fort, quickly. " It would be a capital joke ; but it must 
 be for another occasion and choicer company. The rabble 
 yon have to-night is not worth it. Besides, there is 
 Rochester, who is past-master in disguises, and would smoke 
 you at a. glance. Let me arrange it some night before 
 the end of the summer— when there is a waning moon. It 
 were a pity the thing were done ill." 
 
 " Will you really plan a party forme, and let me appear 
 to them on the stroke of one, with my face whitened ? I 
 have as slender a shape as most women.'' 
 
 " There is no such sylph in London." 
 
 ''And I can make myself look ethereal. Will you draw 
 the nun's habit for me, and I will give your picture to 
 Lewin to copy ? " 
 
 " I will do more. I will get you a real habit." 
 
 *' But there are no nuns so white as the ghost." 
 
 " True, but you may rely upon me. The nun's robes 
 shall be there, the phosphorus, the blue fire, and a selection 
 of the choicest company to tremble at you. Leave the 
 whole business to my care. It will amuse me to plan so 
 exquisite a jest for so lovely a jester." 
 
 He bent down to kiss her hand, till his forehead almost 
 
The Millbank Ghost. 
 
 233 
 
 touclied lier knee, and in the few moments that passed 
 before he raised it she heard him laugliiug softly to liim- 
 self, as if with irrejiressible deliglit. 
 
 "What a child you are," she said, -to bo so pleased 
 with sucli a folly ! " ^ 
 
 " What children wo both are, Hyacinth ! My sweet soul, 
 let us always be childish, ami find pleasure in follies 
 Life IS such a poor thing, that if we had leisure to appraise 
 its value wo should have a contagion of suicide that would 
 number more deaths than the plague. Indeed the wonder 
 IS, not that any man should commit 'felo de se/ but that 
 so many of us should take the trouble to live." 
 
 Lady Sarah received them at the landing-stage, with an 
 escort of fops and fine ladies ; and the festival promised 
 to be a success. There was a better supper, and more 
 wine than people expected from lier ladyship ; and after 
 supper a good many of those who pretended to have come 
 to see the ghost, wandered off in couples to saunter alono- 
 the willow-shaded bank, while only the more earnest spirits 
 were content to wait and watch, and listen in the great 
 vaulted hall, but with no light but the moon which sent a 
 flood of silver through the high Gothic window, from 
 which every vestige of glass had long vanished. 
 
 There were stone benches along the two side walls, 
 and Lady Sarah's prcvoyance had secured cushions or 
 carpets for her guests to sit upon, and here the supcrsti- 
 tious sat in patient weariness, Angela among them, with 
 Denzil still at her side, scornful of credulous folly, but 
 loving to be with her he adored. Lady Fareham had been 
 tempted out of doors by De Malfort to look at the moon- 
 light on the river, and had not returned. Rochester and 
 his crew had also vanished directly after supper, and for 
 company Angela had on her left hand Mr. Dubbin, far 
 advanced in liquor, and trembling at every breath of 
 summer wind that fluttered the ivy round the ruined 
 
n- 
 
 ■|! it 
 
 234 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 iSL 
 
 window, and sit Cvcry shadow thr.t moved upon the moonht 
 wuH. His wife was on the otlicr side of the hall, whisper- 
 ing witli Ludy Sarah, and hoth so deep in a court scandal 
 —in which *'the K" and *' the D" recurred very often 
 — that they liad almost forgotten tho purpose of that 
 moonlit sitting. 
 
 Suddenly in the distance there sounded a long shrill 
 wailing, as of a soul in agony, whereupon Mr. Dubhin, 
 after clinging wildly to Angela, and being somewhat 
 roughly flung aside by Denzil, collapsed altogether, and 
 rolled upon the ground. 
 
 "Lady Euphemia," cried Mrs. Townshend, a young 
 lady who had been sitting next the obnoxious clhen, "be 
 pleased to look after your drunken hrsband. If you take 
 the low-bred sot into company, you should at least charge 
 yourself with the care of his manners." 
 
 The damsel had started to her feet, and indignantly 
 snatched her satin petticoat from contact with the citizen's 
 porpoise figure. 
 
 " I hate mixed company,'' she told Angela, " and old 
 maids who marry tallow-chandlers. If a woman of rank 
 marries a shopkeeper she ought never to be allowed west of 
 Temple Bar.'' 
 
 The young lady was no believer in ghosts, but others of 
 the company were too scared for words. All had risen, 
 and were staring in the direction whence that dismal shriek 
 had come. A trick, perhaps, since anybody with strong 
 lungs— dairymaid or cowboy— could shriek. They all 
 wanted to see something, a real manifestion of the super- 
 natural. 
 
 The unearthly sound was repeated, and the next moment 
 a shape, vague, in flowing white garments, rushed through 
 the great window, and crossed the hall, followed by three 
 other shape in dark loose robes, with hooded heads ; one 
 carried a rope, another a pickaxe, the third a trowel and 
 
The Millbank Ghost. 235 
 
 hod of mortar. They crossed the luUl with Hying footsteps 
 -8hadowhke-the pule shape iu distraeted flight, the (h.rk 
 8hnpe pursuing, and came to a stopch.se against tlie wall, 
 which had heen c-leurcd by the affrighted assembly, scat- 
 tenng as ,f the king of terrors ha<l aj^peared among them 
 -yet with fascinated eyes flxed on those fearson.e llgures. 
 It IB the nun herself ! " cried Lady Sarali, apprehension 
 and triumph contending in her agitated spirits ; for it was 
 surely a feather in her ladyship's cap to have produced such 
 a phantasmal train at her party. - The nun and lier exe- 
 cutioners ! " 
 
 The company fell back from the ghostly troop, recoiling 
 till tliey were all clustered against the opposite wall, leav- 
 mg a clear space in front of the specters, whence they 
 looked on, shuddering at the tragedy of the erring sister's 
 fate repeated in dumb show. The white-robed figure 
 knelt and groveled at the feet of those hooded executioners 
 one seized and bound her with strange phantasmal action! 
 unlike the movements of living creatures,and another smoto 
 the wall with a pickaxe that made no sound, while the third 
 waited wich his trowel and mortar. It was a gruesome sight 
 .0 those who knew the story-a gruesome, yet an enjoyable 
 spectacle ; since, as Lady Sarah's friends had not had the 
 pleasure of knowing the sinning sister in flesh, they watched 
 this ghostly representation of her sufferings with as keen 
 an interest as they would have felt had they been privileged 
 to see Claud Duval swing at Tyburn. 
 
 The person most terrified by this" ghostly show was the 
 only one who had the hardihood to tackle the performers. 
 This was Mr. Dubbin, who sat on the ground watching the 
 shadowy figures, sobered by fear, and his shrewd city senses 
 gradually returning to a brain bemused by Burgundy 
 
 "Look at her boots! "he cried suddenly, scrambli'n^r to 
 his feet, and pointing to the nun, who in sprawling "and 
 writhing at the feet of her executioner, had revealed more " 
 
 « ; 
 
J if- 
 
 ill 
 
 It 
 
 r i. 
 
 ■iS 
 
 ,. ( 
 
 236 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 log and foot than wore consistent with her 8i)ectral white- 
 ness. " She wears yallcr boots, as substantial as any shoe 
 leather among the company. I'll swear to them yaller 
 boots." 
 
 A chorus of laughter followed this attack— laughter 
 which found a smothered echo among the ghosts. The 
 spell was broken ; disillusion followi'd the exquisite thrill of 
 fear ; and all Lady .Sarah's male visitors made a rush up' 1 
 the guilty nun. The loose white robe was stripped off, and 
 little Jerry Spavinger, gentleman jock, famous on the Tleath, 
 and at Doncaster, stood revealed, in his shirt aiul breeches, 
 and those yellow riding-boots which he rarely exchanged 
 for a more courtly chassure. 
 
 The monks bustled out of their disguise were Rochester, 
 Masaroon, and Lady Sarah's young brother, George Sadding- 
 ton. 
 
 " From my Lord Rochester I expect nothing but pot- 
 house buffoonery, but I take it vastly ill on your part, 
 George, to join in making me a laughing-stock," remon- 
 Btrated Lady Sarah. 
 
 "Indeed, sister, you have to thiiuk his lightheaded lord- 
 ship for giving a spirited end to your assembly. Could you 
 conceive how preposterous you and your friends looked sit- 
 ting against the walls, mute as stock-fish, and suggesting 
 nothing but a Quaker's jneeting, you would make us your 
 lowest curtsey, and thank us kindly for having helped you 
 out of a dilemma." 
 
 Lady Sarah, wdio was too much of a woman of the world 
 to quarrel seriously with a Court favorite, furled the fan 
 with which she had been cooling her indignation, and tapped 
 young Wilmot i:)layfully on that oval cheek where the beard 
 had scarce begun to grow. 
 
 "Thou art the most incorrigible wretch of thy years in 
 London," she said, "and it is impossible to help being 
 angry with thee or to help forgiving thee," 
 
Falcon And Dove. 237 
 
 Tho sauntorors on tho willo\v..sIiu(U>vvea bniika camo 
 strollnig ill. Lady Farohani's cornotH ami ihkllea Houmk^d 
 a march in Alcesto, and tho party hroko up in hiu-htor and 
 good-temper, Mr. D.bhin b.-in- nuieh con.plimented upon 
 his luiving detected S])aving(!r'.s ])0()tH. 
 
 "I ouglit to know Y>m/' heauHwered. ruefully. "I lost 
 a hundred megga on him TooHday sennight, at AVindsor 
 races ; and I had time to take the pattern of them boots 
 while ho was crawling in, a bad third. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 FALCON AND DOVE. 
 
 <t 
 
 'Has your ladyship any commands for Paris?" Lord 
 Fareham asked, one August • '^'nio-ui, when the ghost 
 party at Millbank was almost forgotten amid a succession 
 of entertainments on land and rivor ; a fortnight at Epsom 
 to drink the waters ; and a fortnight at Tunl)ridge— where 
 tho Queen and Court wore spending tlie close of summer- 
 to warn away the bud ..Ifects of ]':p.soin chalybeates with a 
 regimen of Kentish sulphur. Jf nobody at either resort 
 drank deeper of the medicinal springs than Hyacinth— who 
 had ordered her physician to order her that treatment— 
 the risk of harm or the possibility of benefit was of the 
 smallest. But at Epsom there had been a good deal of gi y 
 company, and a greater liberty of manners than in London • 
 for, indeed, as Rochester assured Lady Fareham, "the 
 freedom of Epsom allowed almost nothing to be scandal- 
 ous.'' And at Tunbridge there were dances bv torchlicrht 
 on the common. " And at tho worst," Lady Farehlm 
 told her friends, ^- a fortnight or so at Iho wells helps to 
 shorten the summer." 
 
 1I 
 
1 !'!^ 
 
 ii r. 
 
 11 lit 
 
 238 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 It was the middle of August when they went back to 
 Fureham House, hot, dry weather, and London seemed to 
 bo living on the Thames, so thick was the throng of boats 
 going up and down tlie river, so that with an afternoon tide 
 running uj? it seemed as if barges, luggers, and wherries, 
 were moving in one solid block into the sunset sky. 
 
 Do Malfort had been attached to her ladyship's party at 
 Epsom, and at Tunbridgo Wells. lie had his own lodgings, 
 but seldom occupied them, except in that period between 
 four or five in the morning, and two in the afternoon, which 
 Rochester and he called night. His days were passed 
 chiefly in attendance upon Lady Fareham— singing and 
 playing, fetching and carrying, combing her favorite 
 spaniel with the same ivory pocket-comb that arranged his 
 own waterfall curls ; or reading a French romance to her, 
 or teaching her the newest game at cards, or the last danc- 
 ing-step imported from Fontainebleau or St. Cloud, or 
 some new grace or fashion in dancing, the holding of the 
 hand lower or higher ; the latest manner of passaging in a 
 biansle or a coranto, as performed by the French king and 
 Madame Henriette, the two finest dancers in France; 
 Conde, once so famous for his dancing, now appearing in 
 those gay scenes but seldom. 
 
 "Have you any commands for Paris, Hyacinth?" re- 
 peated Lord Fareham, his wife being for the moment too 
 surprised to answer him. " Or have you, sister ? I am 
 starting for France to-morrow. I shall ride to Dover- 
 lying a night at Sittingbourne, perhaps— and cross by the 
 packet that goes twice a Aveek to Calais.'' 
 
 " Paris ! And pray, my lord, what business takes you 
 to Paris ? " 
 
 " There is a great collection of books to be sold there 
 next week. The library of your old admirer, Nicholas 
 Fouquet, whom you knew in his splendor, but who has 
 been a prisoner at Pignerol for a year and a half." 
 
 r IE i: 
 
Falcon And Dove. 2''q 
 
 "Poor wretch!" cried Do Malfort, "I was at the 
 Chamber with Madame de Sevigne very often during liis 
 long tedious trial. Mon Dieu ! what courage, what talent 
 he showed m defending himself. Every safeguard of the 
 law was violated in order to silence him and prove him 
 guilty ; his papers seized in his absence, no friend or serv- 
 ant allowed to protect his interest, no inventory taken— 
 documents suppressed that might have served for his de- 
 fence, forgeries inserted by his foes. He had an implac- 
 able enemy, and he the highest in the land. He was 
 the scapegoat in the past, and had to answer for a system 
 of plunder that made Mazarin the richest man in 
 France." 
 
 " I don't wonder that Louis was angry with a servant 
 who had the insolence to entertain his majesty with a 
 splendor that surpassed his own," said Lady Fareham. " I 
 should like to have been at those fetes at Vaux. But al- 
 though Fareham talks so liglitly of traveliiig to Paris to 
 choose a few dusty books, he has always discouraged mo 
 from going there to see old friends, and my own house— 
 which I grieve to think of-abandoned to the carelessness 
 of servants." 
 
 _ "Dearest, the cleverest woman in the world cannot be 
 m two places at once ; and it seems to me you have ever 
 had your days here so full of agreeable engagements 
 that you have hardly seriously desired to leave London," 
 answered Fareham, with his grave smile. 
 
 " To leave London— no ! But there have been long 
 moping months in Oxfordshire when it would have been a 
 relief to change the scene." 
 
 " Then, indeed, had you been very earnest in wanting 
 such a change, I am sure you would have taken it. I liave 
 never forbidden your going to Paris, nor refused to accom- 
 pany you there. You may go with me to-morrow if 'you 
 can be ready." 
 
 
240 
 
 When The World Was Younsrer. 
 
 Illi 
 
 Hi n 
 
 " Which you know I cannot, or you would scarce maka 
 so liberal an oifer/' 
 
 " Tres chure, you are pleased to be petulant. But I re- 
 peat my question. Is there anything you Avant at Paris ? " 
 "Anything? A million things ! Everything! But 
 they are things Avhich you would not be able to choose— 
 except, perhaps, some of tlie new lace. I might trust you 
 to buy that, though I'll wager you will bring mo a hideous 
 pattern— and some white Cyprus powder— and a piece of 
 the ash-colored velvet madame wore last winter. I have 
 friends who can choose for you, if I write to them ; and 
 you will have to bring the goods, and see they suffer no 
 harm on the voyage.. And you can go to the Eue de 
 Tourame and see whether my servants are keeping the 
 house in tolerable order." 
 
 " With your ladyship's permission I will lodge there while 
 I am in Paris, which will be but long enough to attend the 
 sale of books, and see some old friends. If I am detained it 
 will be by finding my friends out of town, and having to 
 make a journey to see them. I shall not go beyond Pon- 
 tainebleau at furthest." 
 
 ''Dear Fontainobleau ! It is of all French palaces my 
 favorite. I always envy Diana of Poitiers having her 
 cypher emblazoned all over that lovely gallery— Henri and 
 Diana ! Diana and Henri ! Ah, me ! " 
 
 " You envy her a kind of notoriety which I do not covet 
 for my wife I " 
 
 " You always take one ' au pied de la lettre ; ' but seri- 
 ously, Madame de Breze was an honest woman compared 
 with the lady who lodges by the Holbein Gate." 
 
 " I admit that sin wears a bolder front than it did in the 
 last century. Angela, can I find nothing for you in Paris ? " 
 
 " No ; I thank your lordship. You and sister are bothso 
 generous to mo that I have lost capacity to wish for anv- 
 thinjr." ^ 
 
Falcon And Dove. 
 
 241 
 
 " And as Lewin crosses the Channel tliiee or four times 
 a year, I doubt we positively liave the Paris fashions as 
 soon as the Parisians themselves/' added Hyacinth. 
 
 " That is an agreeable hallucination with which English- 
 women have ever comforted themselves for not being 
 French/' said De MaKort, who sat lolling against the marble 
 balustrade, nursing the guitar on which he had been play- 
 ing when Fareham interrupted their noontide idleness ; 
 *'but your ladyship may be sure that London milliners are 
 ever a twelvemonth in the rear of Paris fashions. It is not 
 that they do not see the new mode. They see it, and think 
 it hideous ; and it ( kes a year to teach them that it is the 
 one perfect st • )ssible." 
 
 "I was n( :.iking of kerchiefs or petticoats," said 
 Fareham. "You are a book-lover, sister, like myself. 
 Can I bring you no books you wish for ? " 
 
 ''If there were a new comedy by MoIi(^re ; but I fear it 
 is wrong to read him since in his late play performed be- 
 fore the king at Versailles, he is so cruel an enemy to our 
 Church." 
 
 " ^ foe only to hypocrites and pretenders, Angela. I 
 will bring you his ' Tartuffe,' if it is printed ; or still better, 
 ' Le Misanthrope,' whicli I am told is the finest comedy 
 that was ever written ; and the latest romance, in twenty 
 volumes or so by one of those lady authors Hyacinth so ad- 
 mires ; but which I own to finding as tedious as the divine 
 Orinda's verses." 
 
 " You can jeer at that poor lady's poetry, yet take pleasure 
 in such balderdash as Iludibras." 
 
 '' I love wit, dearest ; though I am not witty. But as 
 for your Princess de Cleves, I find her ineffably (Hill." 
 
 "That is because you do not take the trouble to discover 
 for whom the characters are meant. You lack the key to 
 the imbroglio," said his wife, with a superior air. 
 
 "I do not care for a book that is a series of enigmas. 
 
 i^^ 
 

 if 
 
 I-. 
 
 I 
 
 h I 
 
 242 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 Don Quixote -- :erls,Ro such guess-work. Shakest)ere's char- 
 acters are paiated not from the petty models o^f yesterday 
 and to-aay but from mankind in every age and every cli- 
 I'ite. MolK^re's and Calderon's personages stand on as 
 sohd a basis. In less than half a century your 'Grand 
 Cyrus ' will be insufferable jargon.- 
 
 - Not more so than your Hamlet or Othello. Shakespere 
 was but kept m fashion during the late king's reign be- 
 cause his majesty loved him-and will soon be forgotten 
 now that we have so many gayer and brisker dramatists." 
 Whoever q otes Shakespere, nowadays ? " asked Lady 
 Sarah Te^ykesbury, who had been showing a rustic niece 
 
 *J Fvp? ^r T 1 ' "^T' '^ ^^^^ ^^^"^ ^^reham House. 
 Jiven Mr. Taylor, whose sermons bristle with elegant 
 allusions, never points one of his passionate climaxes with 
 a Shakesperian line. And yet there are some very fine lines 
 m Hamlet and Macbeth, which would scarce soiind amiss 
 from the pulpit," added her ladyship, condescendingly. 
 I have read all tne plays, some of them twice over. And 
 1 doubt that though Shakespere cannot hold the stage in 
 our more enlightened age, and will be less and less acted 
 as he towns grow more refined, his works will always be 
 tested by scholars ; among whom, in my modest way, I 
 dare reckon myself." ^' 
 
 Lord Fareham left London on horseback, with but one 
 servant, in the early August dawn, before the rest of the 
 household wore stirring. Hyacinth lay nearly as late of a 
 morning as Henrietta Maria, whom Charles used sometimes 
 to reproach for not being up in time for the noonday office 
 at her own chapel. Lady Fareham had not Queen Cath- 
 ermes fervor wlio was often at Mass at seven o'clock, but 
 she did usually contrive to be present at High Mass at the 
 queer s chapel ; and this was tlie beginning of her day. 
 While for Angela and her niece ond nephew the day was 
 Old at noon. They had spent hours on the river, or in the 
 
Falcon And Dove. 24^ 
 
 meadows at Cliiswick, or on Putney Heath, ever ^lad 
 to escape from tlie great overgrown city, wliicli was now 
 licking up every stretcli of greensward, and every flowery 
 hedgerow west of St. James's Street. Soon tliere would bo 
 no country between the Haymarket and " the Pillars of 
 Hercules. ' 
 
 Denzil sometimes enjoyed the privilege of accompanying 
 Angela, children and the gouvernante, on these rural expedi- 
 tions by the great water-way ; and on these occasions he 
 and Angela would each take an oar and row the boat for 
 some part of the voyage, while the watermen rested, and in 
 this manner Angela, instructed by Sir Denzil, considerably 
 advanced her power as an oarswoman. It was an exercise 
 she loved, as indeed she loved all out-of-door exercises 
 from ridmg with hawks and hounds to battledore and 
 shuttlecock. But most of all, she loved the river, and the 
 rhythmical dip of oars in the fresh morning air when every 
 
 "Tl^'^.^i!" ^''*'^' '^'°''' '"""^^^^ *° ^'^^'^^l new beauty. 
 
 It had been a hot, dry summer, and the grass in the 
 parks was burnt to a dull brown, had, indeed, almost 
 ceased to be grass, while the atmosphere in town had a 
 fiery taste, and was heavy with the dust which whitened all 
 the roadways, and which the faintest breath of wind dis- 
 persed. Here on the flowing tide there was coolness, and 
 the long rank grass upon those low sedgy sliores was still 
 green. 
 
 LadyFareliam supported the August heats sittin- on 
 her terrace, with a cluster of friends about her, and^lier 
 musicians and singing-boys grouped in the distance, ready 
 to perform at her bidding ; but Henriette and her brother 
 were tired of tliat luxurious repose, and would urge their 
 aunt to assist in a river expedition. The gouvernante was 
 tat and lazy and good-tempered. ha<l a.ttcnf'!od upon He-i 
 riette from babyhood, and always did as she was told. 
 
 "Her ladyship says I must have some clever person 
 
 1;. 
 
 
 )' 
 
I i 
 
 244 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 instead of Priscilla, before I am a year older/' Henrietto 
 told her aunt; ''but I have promised poor old Prissy to 
 hate her consumedly." 
 
 Angela and Deuzil laughed as they rowed past the ruined 
 abbey, seen dimly across the low water-meadow, where 
 cows of the same color were all lying in the same attitude, 
 chewing the cud. 
 
 _ " I think Mr. Spavinger's trick must have cured your 
 sister's fine friends of all belief in ghosts,'' he said. 
 
 " I doubt they would be as ready to believe— or to pre- 
 tend to believe— to-morrow," answered Angela. ''They 
 think of nothingfrom morning till niglit but^'how to amuse 
 themselves ; and when every pleasure has been exhausted, 
 I suppose fear comes \n as a form of entertainment, and 
 they want the shock of seeing a ghost." 
 
 "Tliere have been no more midnight pa ties since Lady 
 Sarah's assembly, I think ? " 
 
 " Not among people of quality, perhaps ; but there have 
 been citizens' parties. I heard Monsieur De Malfort tell- 
 ing my sister about a supper given by a wealthy wine- 
 cooper's lady from Aldersgate. The city people copy every- 
 thing that their superiors wear or do." 
 
 " Even to their morals," said Denzil. " ' T^vere happy 
 if the so-called superiors would remember that, and upon 
 what a fertile ground they sow the seed of new vi^es. It 
 is like the importation of a new weed or a new insect, 
 which, beginning with an accident, may end in ruined crops 
 and famine." 
 
 Without deliberate disobedience to her husband. Lady 
 Farcham made the best use of her time during his absence 
 m Paris. The public theaters had not yet re-opened after 
 the horror of the plague. Whitehall was a desert, the 
 king and his chief following being at Tunbridge. It was 
 the dullest season of the year, and, recrudescence of the 
 contagion in the low-lying towns along the Thames— Dept- 
 
Falcon And Dove. 
 
 245 
 
 ford, Greenwich, and the neighborhood-together with 
 some isoJuted cuses in London, made people more serious 
 than usual despite of the so-called victory over the Dutch, 
 which, although a mixed benefit, was celebrated piously b^ 
 a day of general thanksgiving. 
 
 Hyacinth, disgusted at the dullness of the town, was for 
 ordering her coaches and retiring to Chilton 
 
 "It is mortal dull at the Abbey," she said,' "but at least 
 we have the hawks and breezy hill, to ride over, instead of 
 this sickly city atmosphere, which to my nostrils smells of 
 the pestilence." 
 Henri de Malfort argued against such a retreat 
 '' It were a deliberate suicide," ho said. - London 
 when everybody has left-all the bodies we count worthy 
 to hvo, par exemple-is a more delightful place than you 
 can imagine. There are a host of vulgar amusements 
 which you would not d.o..-e to visit when your friends are 
 m town ; and which are ten times as amusing as the pleas- 
 ures you know by lieart. Have you ever been to the Bear 
 (xarden i 111 warrant you no, though 'tis but across the 
 river at Bankside. We'll go there this afternoon, if you 
 like, and see how the common people taste life. Then 
 there are the gardens at Islington. There are mounte- 
 banks, and palmers, and fortune-tellers, who will fri-liten 
 you out ol your_ wits for a shilling. There's a man at 
 Clerkeiiwell, a jeweler's journeyman from Venice, who 
 pretends to practice the transmutation, of metals and 
 to_ make gold. lie squeezed hundreds out of that old 
 miser Denham, who was afraid to prosecute him for im- 
 posture, lest all London should laugh at his own credulity 
 and applaud the cheat. And you have not seen the 
 Ita ban puppet-play, which is vastly entertaining. I could 
 fand you novelty and amusement for a month 
 
 "Find anything new, oven if it fails to amuse me. I 
 am sick of everything I kuov/. 
 
 4« 
 
 I I'S 
 
P !' ' 
 
 Gi.y. 
 
 M 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 246 
 
 When The World Was VounGfei*. 
 
 " Aud then there is our midnight party at Millhank, the 
 ghost party, at Which you are to friglitcn your dearest 
 friends out of their poor little wits." 
 
 " Most of my dearest friends are in the country." 
 
 *'Nay, there is a Lady Lucretia Topham, whom T know 
 you hate ; and Lady Sarah and the Dubbins are still in 
 Covent Garden." 
 
 " I will have no Dubbin — a toping v/retch — and she is 
 a too incongruous mixture, with her Edinburgh lingo and 
 her Whitehall arrogance. Besides, the whole notioi' of a 
 mock ghost was vulgarized by Wilmot's foolery, who 
 ought to have been born a saltimbanque, and spent his 
 life in a fair. No, I have abandoned the scheme. 
 
 ** What, after I have been taxing my invention to pro- 
 duce the most terrible illusion that ^ as ever witnessed ? 
 Will you let a clown like Spavinger — a well-known stable- 
 boy — balk us of our triumph ? I am sending to Paris for 
 a powder to burn in a corner of the room, which Avill throw 
 the ghastliest pallor upon your countenance. When I de- 
 vise a ghost, it shall be no impromptu specter in yellow 
 riding-boots, but a vision so awful, so true an image of a 
 being returned from the dead, that the stoutest nerves will 
 thrill and tremble at the apparition. The nun's habit is 
 coming from Paris. I have asked my cousin, Madame de 
 Fiesque, to obtain it for me u the Carmelites." 
 
 " You are taking a vast deal of trouble. But what kind 
 of assembly can we muster at this dead season ?" 
 
 "Leave all in my hands. I will find you some of the 
 choicest spirits. It is to be my party. I will not even tell 
 you what night I fix upon till all is ready. So make no 
 engagements for your evenings, and tell nobody anything." 
 
 " Who invented that poM'der ?" 
 
 " A French chemist. lie has it of all colors, and can 
 flood a scene in golden light, or the rose of dawn, or the 
 crimson of sunset, or a pale silvery blueness that you 
 
Falcon And Dove. ^^^ 
 
 even to her onemies-who are legion " '""""'-Sood 
 
 onl'kTrd IT"::;:.""' "^ """> '"''^ '>-''' ^-^ ■■- omy 
 
 "As how ?" 
 
 butroj-al, and adorlble, do^„ ou/ e? Inn i "T^T""' 
 calls he. B„tt„.tn;nto»;;\o14:;:"' '^^°'^-' 
 Idnnh/r.""'' "''''' ^°" ™™''' "'""'■Ion tho notion 
 net htli':: in arat"' ^"" ^"'"'"^ ^°" «-^" -"i 
 
 thlt fh^p'rli^jilipj?/'-" ■'->^ «- to get 
 
 >sed to conform to Malfort's plans and t„ T TT 
 assnme her phantom r,ile wheneve 'sh wa^^„' Jf ' 
 
 Angela knew something of the scheme aT w, T" 
 was to be another assontblv «i Mmu \' I ""=" 
 
 "^f t'2^1f';r '» f '" "^^^^^^^^^^^ ":»^?.ir 
 
 inone:;h:^--r-~^ 
 
248 
 
 When The World Was Younefcr. 
 
 tho world at large with perfect freedom. For oiico in her 
 life Ilyuciiith hadu secret air, and checked herself sud- 
 denly in the midst of her light babble at u look from De 
 Malfort, who had urged her to keep her sister out of thoir 
 midnight party. 
 
 "I pledge my honor that there shall he nothing to of- 
 fend," ho told her, "but I hope U> have the wittiest cox- 
 combs in London, and we want no prudes to strangle tho 
 jest in their throats with a long-drawn li|) and an alarmed 
 eye. Your sister has a pale fritilleuso prettiness which 
 pleases an eye satiated with the exuberant charms of your 
 Rubens and Titian women ; but she is not handsome 
 enough to give herself airs ; and she is a little inclined 
 that way. By the ;faith of a gentleman I have suffered 
 scowls from her that I would scarce have endured from 
 Barbara." 
 
 " Barbara ! You are vastly free with her ladyship's 
 name." 
 
 " Not freer than she has ever been with her friend- 
 ship." 
 
 " Henri, if I thought " 
 
 " What, dearest ? " 
 
 *' That you had ever cared for that — wanton " 
 
 " Could you think it, when you know my life in Eng- 
 land has been one long tragedy of loving in vain — of sigh- 
 ing only to be denied — of secret tears — and public submis- 
 sion." 
 
 "Do not talk so," she exclaimed, starting up from her 
 low tabouret, and moving hastily to the open window, to 
 fresh air and sunshine, rippling river and blue sky, escap- 
 ing from an atmosphere that had become feverish. 
 
 " De Malfort, you know I must not listen to foolish rapt- 
 ures." 
 
 " I know you have been refusing to hear for the last two 
 years/* 
 
Falcon And Dove. 
 
 249 
 
 They wore on tlio terrace now, she leanin- on the broad 
 
 traffic of London moving witli the tide below tliem. 
 
 lo return to our party," she said, in a ligliter tone 
 
 gowith me> '''" "'^""■' "°' '' "^^'^^^ -y -^ter to 
 ''If you did she would refuse, belike, for she is under 
 Immat" '' "^' '^ ''"^^^^^'^^ "^ --^^hi4 
 
 "Under Fareham's thumb! What nonsense ! Luleed 
 onZd."" ''' ""^^' ''""' '' ^° «^'-"«- ^0 be 
 
 -Not if you manage things cleverly. The party is to 
 be a surprise You can tell her next morning yoii knew 
 nothing about it beforehand." 
 
 - There will be no barge. I shall carry yon to Millbank 
 
 chlir."^'"^ ^'^^'' *'^' ""^ ''''' '"'""^^ "^ ^^'-^^t' «r my 
 
 '' You can have a chair, if you are too prudish to use 
 my coach, but it shall be got for you at the moment We 
 won have your own chairmen and links to chatter 
 and betray you before you have played the ghost. Re 
 member you come to my party not as a guest Init as . p . 
 former. If they ask why Lady Fareham is absent, I sal 
 say you refused to take part in our foolery." 
 
 " Oh you must invent some better excuse. Thev will 
 
 pomted of a hat or a mantua. W^ll ^^ -haP '- i- 
 wish. Angela is apt to be tiresome. Ihate^adisapyovW 
 carriage, even in a younger sister." proving 
 
 ! i * 
 
[i 
 
 'i i 
 
 250 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 Angola was puzzled by Hyacinth's demeanor. A want 
 of frankness in one so irank by nature aroused her fears. 
 She wa8 puzzled and anxious, and longed for Fareham's 
 return, lest his- giddy-patcd wife should be guilty of some 
 innocent indiscretion that might vex him. 
 
 " Oh, if she but valued him at his just worth she 
 would value his opinion second only to the approval of 
 conscience,'^ she thought, sadly, ever regretful of her 
 sister's too obvious indillerence toward so kind a husband. 
 
 !-i 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ■WHICH WAS THE FIERCER FIRE ? 
 
 It was Saturday, the first of September, and the hot dry 
 weather having continued with but trifling changes 
 throughout the monLh, the atmosphere was at its sultriest, 
 and the burnt grass in the parks looked as if even the dews 
 of morning and evening had ceased to moisten it, while 
 the arid and dusty foliage gave no feeling of coolness, and 
 the very shadows cast upon that parched ground seemed 
 hot. Morning was sultry as noon, evening brought but 
 little refreshment, while the night was hotter than the 
 day. People complained that the season was even more 
 sickly than in the plague year, and prophesied a new and 
 worse outbreak of the pestilence. Was not this the fatal 
 year about which there had been darkest prophecies ? 1666 ! 
 Something awful, something tragical was to make this 
 triplicate of sixties for ever memorable. Sixty-five had 
 been terrible, sixty-six was to bring a greater horror; 
 doubtless a recrudesccuce of that dire malady which had 
 desolated London, 
 
 I 
 
Which Was The Fiercer Fire? 251 
 
 ''And this time." says ono modish nivon, " 'twill ho tho 
 quah y that will sufTcr. Tho lourr S.lu.s.is' hm paid its 
 penalty, and only tho stron- a.ul hardy are left. Wo havo 
 plenty of weaklings and corrui.t constitutions that will 
 take tiro at a spark. I shoul.l not wondor wore the con- 
 tagion to rage worst at AVhitohall. Tho huildings lie low 
 and there is over a nuolons of fever KOTnewhero in that 
 conglomeration of slau-ditor-housos hak. r,B, kitchens, 
 stables, cider-houses, coul-yards, and ovc,rcro^v 'cd servants' 
 lodgings." 
 
 ;' One ge<^ hut casual whiiTs from t': dr private buteh- 
 ene^s and bukenes," says another. - M nat I complain of 
 IS tho atmosphere of Ins majesty's apartments, where one 
 can scarce breathe for the odor of those cursed spaniels he 
 so delights in." 
 
 Every one agreed tliat the long dry summer menaced 
 some catastrophic change which should surprise this easy- 
 going age as tho plague had done last year. But oh, how 
 lightly that widespread calamity had touched those liffht 
 minds; and, if Providence had designed to warn or to 
 punish how vain had been tho warning, and how soon 
 forgotten the penalty that Imd h,-ft tho worst olTondera 
 unstricken ! 
 
 There was to bo a phiy at Wliitehall that cveninff his 
 majesty and tho Court having returned from Tunbridge 
 Wells the business of the navy, ealling ( harles to council 
 with his faithful general-the general pur exeellence, 
 George Monk, Duke of Albemarh, and tho Lord High 
 Admiral and brother-par excellenco tho duke. Even in 
 briefest residence, and on sternest business intent, with 
 the welfare and honor of tho nation contingent oii their 
 consultations, to build or not to build warships of the first 
 magnitade, the ball of pleasure must bo kept rollin- So 
 iiilligrew was to produce a new version of an old comedy 
 written m the forties, but now polished up to tho modem 
 
 l:f* 
 
252 When The World Was Youiifrer. 
 
 style of wit. Tliis new-old play, " Tlie Parson's Widow/' 
 was said to be all froth and sparkle and current interest, 
 fresh as the last "London Gazette," and full of allusions 
 to the late sickness, an admirable subject, and allowing a 
 wide field for tlie ridiculous. Hyacinth was to be present 
 at this Court function ; but not a word was to be said to 
 Angela about the entertaiuincnt. 
 
 " She would only preach nie a sermon upon Fareham's 
 tastes and wishes, and urge me to stay away because he 
 abhors a fashionable comedy," she told De Malfort. '' I 
 shall say I am going to Lady Sarah's to i)lay basset. Ange 
 hates cards, and Avill not desire to go Avith me. She is al- 
 ways happy Avith the children, who adore her." 
 "Faute de micux.^ 
 
 '' You are so ready to jeer ! Yes, I know I am a neg- 
 lectful mother. But what would you have ? " 
 
 ''I would have you as you are," he answered, ''and only 
 as you are ; or for choice a trifle Avorse than you are ; and 
 so much nearer my oAvn level." 
 
 " Oh, I know you ! It is the wicked women you admire 
 — like Madame Palmer." 
 
 ''Always harping upon Barbara. My mother had a 
 maid called Barl)ara. His majesty has— a lady of the same 
 melodious name. Well, I have a world of engagements 
 betAveen now and nine o'clock, Avhen the play begins. I 
 shall be at the door to lift you out of your chair. Cover 
 yourself with your richest jewels— or at least those you 
 love best. All the town Avill be there to admire you." 
 " All the town ! Why the. o is no one in London." 
 "Indeed, you mistake. Traveling is so easy nowadays. 
 People tear to and fro between Tunbridge and St. James's 
 as often as the" once circulated betwixt London and 
 Chelsea. Were it not for the highAvaymen Ave should be 
 always on the road." 
 Angela and hex niece were on the terrace in the evening 
 
Which Was The Fiercer Fire? 253 
 
 coolness The atmospliere was less oppressive here by the 
 flowing tide than anywhere else in London ; but even here 
 
 XeZe^l "'t"i '^ ^'^ '''^'' '^"'^ -^^ ^I-r!lt 
 w W !l r ^ "' ^'^' ^"''"""^ «^ ^^'^ ^"^l^oned bencli 
 p ! „ ; '"^'-T^ '"'''"^ '^''' '' ^^°"^^ ^^ «J-er folly fo 
 
 of nt 1 ""'' '?'" '"•' -"°^"S *^ ^^^^ ^* ^-r usual hou. 
 of nine, when everybody knew she could not sleep 
 
 "anJlhTllr^ "T^^'' ^'''^ night," she protested, 
 doAvn to the terrace. I could have come through the 
 yellow drawmg-room, where the men usually forget to 
 close the shutters. And I should have brought my theorbo 
 
 tor a fairy, chore, if you had heard me shigin- v- 
 
 -I should have taken you for a very silly little person 
 who wan ed to frighten her friends by catching an infla" 
 mation of the lungs." 
 
 " Well, you see, I thought better of it, though it would 
 have been impossible to catch cold on such a stifling night 
 I heard every clock strike in Westminster and London li 
 was light at five, yet the night seemed endless. I would 
 have welcomed even a mouse behind the wainscot. Priscilla 
 IS an odious tyrant," making a face at the easy-tempered 
 governess sitting by ; -she won't let me have my dogs in 
 my room at night." ^ ^ 
 
 "Your ladyship knows that dogs in a bedchamber are 
 unwholesome, " said Priscilla. 
 
 "No, you foolish old thing ; my ladyship knows the 
 contrary ; for his majesty's bedchamber swarms with them 
 and he has them on his bed even-whole families-mothers 
 and their puppies. Why can't I have a few dear little 
 SghtsP"' '''''°''''*' *° ^"^"^^ ^« "^ tl^e long dreary 
 
 By dint of clamor and expostulation the Honorable 
 Henriette contrived to stay up till ten o'clock was belled 
 
 i I * 
 
« f. 
 
 PI' i til! 
 
 254 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 with solemn tone from St. Paul's Cathedral, which magnif- 
 icent church was speedily to be put in hand for restoration, 
 at a great expenditure. The wooden scaffolding which 
 had been necessary for a careful examination of the build- 
 ing was still up, and somewhat disguised the beauty of 
 that grand steeple, whose summit seemed to touch the low 
 summer stars. Until the striking of the great city clock 
 Papillon had resolutely disputed the lateness of the hour', 
 puttnig forward her own timekeeper as infallible— a little 
 fat round purple enamel watch with diamond figures, and 
 gold hands much bent from being twisted backwards and 
 forwards, to bring recorded time into unison with the 
 young lady's desires— a watch to which no sensible person 
 could give the slightest credit. The clocks of London 
 havmg demonstrated the futility of any reference to that 
 ill-used Geneva toy, slie consented to retire, but was 
 reluctant to the last. 
 
 " I am going to bed," she told her aunt, '' because this 
 absurd old Prissy insists upon it, but I don't expect a 
 quarter of an hour's sleep between now and morning ; and 
 most of the time I shall be looking out of the window 
 watching for the turn of the tide, to see the barges and 
 boats swinging round." 
 
 " You will do nothing of the kind, Mrs. Ilenriette ; for 
 I shall sit in your room till you are sound asleep," said 
 Priscilla. 
 
 " Then you will have to sit there all night ; and I shall 
 have somebody to talk to." 
 
 *' I shall not allow y. ,, to talk." 
 
 " Will you gag me, or put a pillow over me like the 
 blackamoor in the play ? " 
 
 The minx and her governess retired, still disputing, 
 after Angela had been desperately hugged by Henriette,' 
 who brimmed over with Avarmest affection in the midst of 
 her insolence. They were gone, their voices sounding in 
 
Which Was The Fiercer Fire? 255 
 
 the stillness on the terrace, and tlien on the staircase, and 
 
 through the great empty rooms, wliere tlie windows were 
 
 open to the sultry night, while the host of idle servants 
 
 caroused m the basement, in a spacious room, with a 
 
 vaulted roof like a college hall, where tlioy were free to be 
 
 as noisy or as drunken as they pleased. My lady was out, 
 
 had taken only her chair, and running footmen, and had 
 
 sent chairmen and footmen back from Whitehall, with an 
 
 intimation that they would be wanted no more that 
 
 night. 
 
 Angela lingered on the terrace in tiie sultry summer 
 gloom, watching solitary boats moving to and fro, shadowy 
 as Charon s She dreaded the stillness of silent rooms 
 and to be alone with her own thoughts, which were not 
 of the happiest. Her sister's relations with De Malfort 
 troubled her innocent as they doubtless were-innocent 
 as that close friendship of Henrietta of England with her 
 cousin of France, when they two spent the fair midsummer 
 nights roaming m palace gardens-close as lovers, but only 
 fast friends. Malicious tongues had babbled even of that 
 innocent friendship ; and there were those who said that 
 If monsieur behaved like a brute to his lovely young wife 
 It was because he had good reason for jealousy of Louis in 
 the past as well as of De Guiche in the present. These 
 innocent friendships are ever the cause of uneasiness to 
 the lookers-on. It is like seeing children at play on the 
 edgeof acliff-theyaretoo near danger and destruction. 
 Hyacmh, being about as able to carry a secret as to 
 carry an e ephant, had betrayed by a hundred indications 
 that a plot of some kind was being hatched between her 
 
 made too much fuss about so simple a matter as a basset- 
 party at Lady Sarah's, who had her basset-tabl« every 
 night, and was popularly supposed to keep house upon her 
 Winnings, and to have no higher code of honor than De 
 
!iii .. 
 
 256 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 Grammont had when he invited a brother officer to supner 
 on purpose to rook him. ^^ 
 
 Mr. KiJIigrew's comedy had been discussed in Angela's 
 hearnig. People who had been deprived of the theater 
 for over a year were greedy and eager spectators of all 
 the plays produced at court ; but this production was an 
 excepxional event. Killigrew's wit and impudence and 
 impecuniosity were the talk of the town, and anything 
 written by that audacious jester was sure to be worth hear 
 nig. 
 
 _ Had her sister gone to Whitehall to see the new comedy 
 m direct disobedience to her husband, instead of to so 
 accustomed an entertainment as Lady Sarah's basset-table ? 
 
 tfJT, f f '' ^"^^' '"^'^''^ ^'''''''^^' ^^3'Hcinth and 
 De Malfort ^ Or was tliere something else-some ghost- 
 party, such as they had planned and talked about openly 
 till a fortnight ago, and had suddenly dropped alto 
 gether, as if the notion were abandoned and forgotten ? 
 It was so unlike Hyacinth to be secret about anything' 
 ajid her sister feared, therefore, that there was some plot of 
 De Malfort scontriving-J)e Malfort, whom she regarded 
 with distrust and even repugnance ; for she could recall 
 no sentiment of his that did not make for evil. Beneath 
 that gossamer veil of airy language which he flun- 
 over visions and theories, the conscienceless, unrelenting 
 character of the man had been discovered by those clear 
 eyes of the meditative onlooker. Alas, what a man to be 
 her sisters closest friend, claiming privileges by long as- 
 sociation, which Hyacinth would have been the laft to 
 grant her dissolute admirers of yesterday ; but which were 
 only the more perilous for those memories of childhood 
 tnat justihed a so dangerous friendship. 
 
 She was startled from these painful reflections by tho 
 atter of harms' hoofs on the paved courtyard east of 
 the house, and the jingle of swordbelts and bits, sounds 
 
Which Was The Fiercer Fire? 
 
 257 
 
 flung 
 
 instantly followed by the ringing of thj bell at the prin- 
 cipal door. 
 
 Was it her sister coming home so early ? No ; Lady 
 Fareham had gone out in her chair. Was it his lordship 
 returning unannounced ? lie had stated no time for his 
 return, telling his wife only that, on his business in Paris 
 being finished, he would come back without delay. Indeed, 
 Hyacinth had debated the chances of his arrival this very 
 evening with half a dozen of her particular friends, who 
 knew that she Avas going to see Mr. Killigrew's play. 
 
 " Fate cannot be so perverse as to bring him back on 
 the only night when his return would be tmul esome," 
 she said. 
 
 " Fate is always perverse, and a husband is very lucky 
 if there is but one day out of seven on which his return 
 would be troublesome," answered one of her gossips. 
 
 Fate had been perverse, for Angela heard her brother-in- 
 law's deep strong voice talkmg in the hall, and presently 
 he came down the marble steps in the terrace, and came 
 towards her, white with Kentish dust, and carrying an open 
 letter in his hand. She had ri nn at the sound of the 
 bell, and was hurrying to the ho.' so as he met her. He 
 came close up to her, scarcely according her the civility of 
 greeting. Never had she seen his countenance more 
 gloomy. 
 
 "You can tell me truer than those drunken devils 
 below stairs," he said. " Where is your sister ?" 
 
 " At Lady Sarah Tewkesbury's." 
 
 " So her major-domo swears ; but her chairmen, whom 
 I found asleep in the hall, say they set l;er down at the 
 palace." 
 
 "At Whitehall?" 
 
 " Yes, at Whitehall. There is a modish performance 
 there to-night, I iiear ; but I doubt it is over, for the 
 Strand was crowded with hackney coaches moving east- 
 ^7 
 
 •1| 
 
.k 
 
 258 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 ward I passed a pair of hui.ulsome eyes in a gilded chair, 
 that flaslicd at me as I rode bv, whicli I'll swear were Mrs] 
 Palmer s, and waiting for me in the hall, I found tluslettcr, 
 that had just been handed ii. by a link, v.ho doubtles 
 belonged to the same lady. Kead, Angel. ; it is .c'.c 
 long enough to weary you." 
 
 8h.e took the letter from him with a hand t],at trembled 
 so that she could hardly hold the sheot of papor 
 
 ''^Vatcn ! There is an intrigue afoot this night • ..ud 
 yon must be a ;. router d.llard than I think yo^ if you 
 
 cannot unmask • , decei(ful " "' 
 
 The word was one whr h modern manners forbid in speech 
 or printed page. A. ,>,],,', p,ijid cheek flushed crimson at 
 te sight of tho vile .o:.hot. Oh, insane lightness of con- 
 duc^ which made sacii an insult possible ! Standing ther. 
 confronting the angry husband, with that detestable pap<. 
 m her hand, she felt a pang of compunction at the thought 
 that she might have been more strenuous in her argument 
 with her sister, more earnest and constant in Lproo 
 When the peace and good repute of two lives were at stake! 
 was It for her to consider any question of older or younger 
 or.obe restrained by the fear of offending a sister who 
 had been so generous and indulgent to her ? 
 
 Fareham saw her distress, and looked at her with angry 
 suspicion. *»"gry 
 
 "Come,- he said, "I scarce expected a lying answer 
 You kn" ' '"' y^J^-N'oin with servants to'deceive m 
 You know your sister is not at Lady Sarah's " 
 
 "I know nothing, except that, wherever she is, I will 
 vouch that she is innocently employed, and has dine 
 
 "Innocently employed! You carry matters with ; 
 high hand Innocently employed, in a comnanv of sh/ 
 profligates, listening toKLr;,::.ew's ribald jokes-Kill,:, vv' 
 
Which Was The Fiercer Fire? 259 
 
 tl.3 profanest of them all, who can turn the greatest ca- 
 hmity tins city ever suffered to blasphemy and icerinc 
 l.mocei.tly employed, in direct disobedience to her hus- 
 band ! So innocently employed that she makes her serv- 
 ants~and her sister-tell lies to cover her innocence ' " 
 
 ;^ Hector as much as you please, I have told your lord- 
 ship no lies ; and, with your permission, I will leave you 
 to recover your temper before my sister's return, which I 
 doubt not will happen within the next hour." 
 She moved quickly past him towards the house 
 
 "Angela, forgive me "lie began, trying to detain 
 
 her; but she hurried on through the open French window 
 and ran upstairs to her room, where she locked herself in 
 For some minutes she walked up and down, profoundly 
 agitated, thinking out the position of affairs. To Fareham 
 she had carried matters with a high hand, but she was full 
 of fear. The play was over, and her sister, who doubtless 
 iiad been among the audience, had not come home. Was 
 she staying at tlie palace, gossiping with the maids-of- 
 honor, shining among that brilliant unscrupulous crowd 
 where intrigue was in the very air, where no woman was 
 credited with virtue, and every man was remorseless ? 
 
 The anonymous letter scarcely influenced Angela's 
 tiioughts m these agitated moments-that was but a foul 
 assault on character by a foul-minded woman. But the 
 furtive confabulations of the past week must have had 
 some motive ; and her sister's fluttered manner before 
 leaving the house had marked this night as the crisis of the 
 plot. 
 
 Angela could imagine nothing but that ghostly mas- 
 querading which had, in the first place, been discussed 
 freely in her presence ; and she could but wonder that Do 
 Malfort and her sister should have made a mystery about 
 a plan which she had known in its inception. The more 
 deeply she considered all the circumstances, the more sho 
 
 I * 
 

 26o When Tho World Was Youngef. 
 
 inclined to suspect some evil intention on De Mulfort's part, 
 of which Ily:icintli, so frank, so shallow, might bo too easy 
 a dupe. 
 
 'a do little good doubting and suspecting and wonder- 
 ing here," she said to herself ; and after hastily lighting 
 the candles on her toilet-table, she began to unlace the 
 bodice of her light-colored silk mantua, and in a few miii- 
 utcs had changed her elegant evening attire for a dark 
 cloth gown, short in the skirt, and loose in the sleeves, 
 which had been made for her to wear upon the river. In 
 this costume she could handle a pair of sculls as freely as 
 a waterman. 
 
 When she had put on a little black silk hood, she extin- 
 guished her candles, pulled aside the curtain which ob- 
 scured the open window, and looked out on the terrace. 
 There was just light enough to show her that the coast was 
 clear. The iron gate at the top of the water-stairs was 
 seldom locked, nor were the boat-houses often shut, as 
 boats were being taken in and out at all hours, and, for 
 the rest, neglect and carelessness might always be reckoned 
 upon in the Fareham household. 
 
 She ran lightly down a side staircase, and so by an ob- 
 scure door to the river- front. No, the gate was not locked, 
 and there was not a creature within sight to observe or 
 impede her movements. Slie went down the steps to the 
 paved quay below the garden terrace. The house where 
 the wherries were kept was wide open, and, better still, 
 there was a skiff moored by the side of the steps, as if wait- 
 ing for her ; and she had but to take a pair of sculls from 
 the rack and step into the boat, unmoor and away west- 
 ward, with swift dipping oars, in the soft summer silence, 
 broken now and then by sounds of singing— a tipsy, un- 
 melodious strain, perhaps, were it heard too near,' but 
 musical in the distance— as the rise and fall of voices crept 
 along a reach of running water. 
 
Which Was The Fiercer Fire? 261 
 
 The night was hot and oppressive, even on the river. 
 But better liere tliuu anywliere else ; and Angela breathed 
 more freely as she bent over her sculls, rowing with all 
 her might intent upon reaching that landing-stage she 
 knew of ni the very shortest possible time. The boat was 
 heavy, but she had the swift incoming tide to help her 
 
 Was Fareham hunting for his wife, she Avonde^ed. 
 Would he go to Lady Sarah's lodgings, in the first place, 
 and not finding Hyacinth there, to Whitehall ? And then 
 would he remember the assembly at Millbank, in which 
 he had taken no part, and apparently no interest ? And 
 would he extend his search to the ruined abey ^ At the 
 most, Angela would be there before him, to prepare her 
 sister for the angry suspicions which she would have to 
 meet. He was not likely to think of that place till he had 
 exhausted all other chances. 
 
 It was not much more than a mile from Fareham House 
 to that desolate bit of country betwixt Westminster and 
 Chelsea where the modern dairy-farm occupied the old 
 monkish pastures. As Angela ran her boat inshore, she 
 expected to see Venetian lanterns, and to hear music and 
 voices and all the indication of a gay assembly ; but there 
 was only silence and darkness, save for one lighted window 
 in the dairyman's dwelling-house, and she thought that 
 she had come upon a futile errand, and had been mistaken 
 m her conjectures. 
 
 She moored her boat to tlie wooden landing-stage, and 
 went on shore to examine the premises. The party might 
 be designed for a later hour, though it was now near mid- 
 night, and Lady Sarah's party had assembled at eleven 
 She walked across a meadow, where the dewy grass was 
 cool under her feet, and so to the open space in front of 
 the dairyman 8 house-r. e^abby building attached like a 
 wen to the ruined refecti' . . 
 She started at hearing the snort of a horse, and the jin- 
 
 ; N' 
 
262 When The W^i/ Was Younger. 
 
 gling of bit and ciuo-chwin, und came suddenly upon a 
 coach and four, with a couple of post-boys standing beside 
 their team. 
 
 " Whose coach is this !" she asked. 
 
 " Mr. Malfy's, your ladyship." 
 
 "The French gentleman from S'. James' Street, my 
 lady," expluinod the otlier man. 
 
 " Did you bring Monsieur De Mulfort here ?" 
 
 ''No, madam. We was told to be here at eleven, with 
 horses as I'resh as fire, and tlie poor tits are mighty im- 
 patient to be moving. Steady, Champion ! You'll have 
 
 to Avork enough this side Dartford " to the near leader, 
 
 who was shaking his head vehemently, and pawing the 
 gravel. ; 
 
 Angela waited to ask no further q'lestions, but made 
 straight for the unglazed windows, through which Mr. 
 Spavinger and his companions had entered. There was 
 no light in tlie great vaulted room, save the faint light 
 of summer stars, and two figures were there in the dim- 
 ness—a woman standing straight and tall in a satin gown, 
 whose pale sheen reflected the starlight ; a woman wliosc 
 right arm was flung above her ucad, bare and white, the 
 hand clasping her brow distractedly ; and a man, who 
 knelt at her feet, grasj r thr hand tl ' hung at her side, 
 looking up at her, and talking eagerly with passionate 
 gestures. 
 
 Her voice was clearer ilian his ; and Angela heiud her 
 repeating with a piteous shrillness, ''No, no, no! Ne, 
 Henri, no ! " 
 
 She stayed to hear no more, b sprp 
 opening between the broken mulli , .• 
 
 sister's side: and as De Malfort rte., ^ 
 
 thrust him vehemently aside, and ciasped Hyacinth in he 
 arms. 
 
 "You here. Mistress Kill-joy?" he muttered, in a 
 
 !g through the 
 
 rushed to h<r 
 
 his feet, she 
 
Which Was The Fiercer Fire? 
 
 263 
 
 surly tone. - May I ask what business brought you ? for 
 1 li swear you wasn't invited " ^ ^ ^^^ 
 
 "»7„h';ryr:/°i ri 7 ^'t :, '^^ " ^■"-' -• 
 
 of mo!" ''™''"" "'™ '"^'*' 8"»1' uced 
 
 tef; with „i X 'or :^ 7i '" "T'" "^^'^™»' 
 
 same that you are con i, f I "" ■■'«'" «'■"■ »" "'« 
 
 scurvytrickTp n r';ndto!'ht'"''r'''" """ P"' " 
 Of a gay ..„„.^„y th,:; hl'l^rSl:;. ''°'" "" ''^''""- 
 
 I daro scarce think of V "■" '"="" '" """"Ko^ 
 
 you." Ru-eham is searching for 
 
 "Far ham! In London?" 
 
 Sl,?r« 'i ''"''™ '"°'''' """» *>" hour am. liar], i " 
 
 >^-^er!^r-s':;s^rt::i:h£^^ 
 
 some one to open th- door caiimg to 
 
 Ood'fLk'c hT" '"' f'^"'™*'"' '"^'^ctedly. "For 
 uoa s sake, hide me uoni him ' "NTnf fr.r. 1 1 
 
 worlds would I meet him l' ' "" >^orlds-not for 
 
 "IVfay, you have nothing to feai- Tf ,-. \r • 
 Malfort „.h„ has ,0 answer f^r witrhe s'dl" " "" '" 
 
 is in a":er'^ Tha "' "'"■ , ■^'"^' ^™ ''■'- -' -" he 
 
 the;:-: man?a Xt'r^r^o'd -'tT'';,^''? '-^ 
 
 ;.i^ voiee, the biacknos. of h': ;:■,:„ f ^j "^^^ "f 
 Oh, if you loveme-if vou ever lov»d „,. ^ " ' 
 
 way. He is fatal with his swori" "' '"'~"""'' ™* »' '"■» 
 
 to;?rfiTtort;ir""yr^^;:-;f ■; ^"•*'- - 
 
 fo D"'-Pr nr T ' 1 ' ■Hyacinth, I ffo with vnu 
 
 -You hall not," sobbed Hyacinth. - I will not have 
 
III 
 
 264 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 your blood on my head I Come, come-by the garden- 
 by tlio rivor." * 
 
 Slie dragged liim towards the window : he pretending to 
 resist as Angela tiiought, yet letting himself be led as 
 she plei^ed to lead him. They Im.l but just crossed the 
 yawnnig gap between the mullions and vanished into the 
 night, when lareham burst into the room with his sword 
 drawn, and came towards Angela, who stood in shadow, 
 her face half hidden in her close-fitting hood. 
 ;' So, i..ada.u, I have found you at last," he said; "and 
 m time to stop your journey, though not to save myself 
 the dishonor of a wanton wife. But it is your paramour 
 1 want, not you. Where is that craven hiding ? " 
 
 He wont back to the inhabited part of the house, and 
 returned after a hasty examination of the premises, carry- 
 ing the lamp which had lighted his search, only to find 
 the same solitary figure in the vast hn-e room. Angela 
 had moved nearer the window, and had sunk exhausted 
 upon a large carved oak chair, which might be a relic of 
 the monkish occupation. Farehain came to her with the 
 lamp in his hand. 
 
 *'He has given me a clean pair of heels," he said : ''but 
 I know where to find him. It is but a pleasure postponed. 
 And now, woman, you had best return to the house your 
 folly, or your sin, has disgraced. For to-night at least, it 
 must needs shelter you. Come ! " 
 
 The hooded figure rose at his bidding, and he saw tho 
 tace m the lamplight. 
 
 ' ' You ! " he gasped. " You ! " 
 
 /' P''. J'^f ^^^"^^ i<^ is I. Cannot you take a kind view 
 of a foolish business, and believe there has been only folly 
 and no dishonor in the purpose that brought me here " 
 
 '' You ! " he repeated. " You ! " 
 
 His bearing waa that of a man who staggers under a 
 crushing blow, a stroke so unexpected that he can but 
 
Which Was The Fiercer Fire? 265 
 
 wonder and suffer. Ho act down the h.mp with a shukinrj 
 hand, then 00k two or tiiree hurried turns up and down 
 the room ; hen stopped ahruptly the htrnp snatched the 
 anonymous letter from his breast, and read the lines over 
 again. ^^ 
 
 '- An intrigue on foot ' No name. And I took it 
 
 for granted my wife was meant. I looked for folly from 
 her ; but wisdom honor, purity, all the virtues from you. 
 Oh what was the use of my fortitu.Ie. what the motive 
 of self-conquest here," striking himself upon the breast, 
 ^Jjon were unchaste ? Angela, you have broken m; 
 
 There was a long pause before she answered and her 
 foce was turned from him to hide the streaming tears' 
 At last she was able to reply calmly— 
 
 "Indeed, Fareham, you do wrong to take this matter so 
 passionately You may trust my sister and me. On mv 
 honor, you have no cause to be angry with either of us " 
 
 And when I gave you this letter to read," he went on 
 disregarding her protestations, -you knew that you were 
 coming here to meet a lover. You hurried away /rom me 
 dissembler as you were, to steal to this lonely place at mid^ 
 night, to fling yourself into his arms. Tell me where he is 
 hiding, that I may kill him now, while I pant for vengeance 
 buch rage as mine cannot wait for idle forms. Xovv, now 
 now, is the time to reckon with your seducer ! " 
 " Fareham, you cover me with insults ' " 
 He had rushed to the door, still carrying his naked sword • 
 but he turned back as she spoke, and stood looking at he^ 
 from head to foot with a savage scornf ulness 
 
 " Insult ! " he cried. - You have sunk too low for in- 
 ^.1 . There are no words that I know vile enough to tig- 
 matize such disgrace as yonr.H ! Do you know what you 
 have been to me, woman ? A saint -a star ; ineffably pure, 
 ineffably remote; a creature to worship at a distance ; foi 
 
 I < 
 
 
\U A 
 
 266 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 whom it was to sacrifi(!e and repress all that is common to 
 the base heart of man ; from whom a kind word was enough 
 for happiness— so pure, so far away, so detached from this 
 vile age we live in. God, how that saintly face has cheated 
 me ! Mock saint, mock nun ; a creature of passions like 
 my own, but more stealthy ; from top to toe an incarnate 
 lie I" 
 
 He flung out of the room, and she heard his footsteps 
 about the house, and heard doors opened and shut. She 
 waited for no more ; but, being sure by this time that her 
 sister had left the premises, her own desire was to return 
 to Fareham House as soon as possible, counting upon find- 
 ing Hyacinth there ; yet with a sick fear that the seducer 
 might take base advantage of her sister's terror and con- 
 fused spirits, and hustle her off upon the fatal journey he 
 had planned. 
 
 The boat lay where she had moored it, at the foot of 
 the wooden stair ; and she was stepping into it, when Fare- 
 ham ran hastily to the bank. 
 
 " Your paramour has got clear off," he said ; and then 
 asked curtly, "How came you by that boat ?" 
 "I brought it frm Fareham House." 
 " What ! You came here alone by water, at so late an 
 hour ? You heaven-born adventuress ! Other women need 
 education in vice ; but to you it comes by nature." 
 
 He pulled off his doublet as he stepped into the boat ; 
 then seated himself and took the sculls. 
 
 " Has your lordship not left a horse waiting for you ? " 
 Angela inquired hesitatiiigly. 
 
 " My lordship's horse will find his stables before morn- 
 ing with the groom that has him in charge. I am going 
 to row you home. Love expectant is bold ; but disappointed 
 love may lack courage for a solitary jaunt after midnight. 
 Come, mistress, let us have no rercniony. We have done 
 with that forever— as we have done with friendship. 
 
Which Was The Fiercer Fire ? 267 
 
 There are thousands of women in England, all much of a 
 pattern ; and you are one of them. That is the end of our 
 romance. "^ 
 
 He bent to his work, "and rowed with a steady stroke, 
 and ma stubborn silence, which lasted till it was more 
 strangely broken than such angry silence is apt lobe 
 
 The tide was still running up, and it was as much as the 
 
 S^r? '°"'' '" "^ '^''' ^^^^^y ^°^* to hold his own 
 against the stream. 
 
 ,.,i"f ^' r* ""'^'^"''^ ^""^^ '''^^' ^''' g^^« ^««ted to that 
 dark countenance and bare head, on .vliich tlie iron-gray 
 hair waved thick and strong, for Fareham had never toZ 
 sented to envelope his neck and shoulders in a mantle of 
 dead men s tresses, and wore his own hair after the fashion 
 of Charles the First's time. So intent was her watch, that 
 the objects on either shore passed her like shadows in a 
 uream. The primate's palace on her right hand, as the 
 hoat swept round that great bend where the river makes 
 opposite Lambeth Marsh; on her left, as they neared 
 
 ^Tetr* n' f'"''"' °^ '^'' ^''""'y '-^-^ «*• Mar- 
 
 garet s. It was only as they approached Whitehall that 
 
 she became aware of a light upon the water which was not 
 the refl t^tion of daybreak, and, looking suddenly up, she 
 saw the fierce glare of a conflagration in the eastern .ky 
 and cried — ^' 
 
 " There is a fire, my lord !-a great fire, I doubt, in the 
 city. 
 
 The tall spire of St. Paul's stood dark against the vivid 
 splendor of that sky, and every timber in the scaffolding 
 showed hke a blaek lattiee across the crimson and snlph,,? 
 ot raging flames. ^ 
 
 the^rwirks!"*'' '■'"'"'' """'"' """""s '™ «""•=» '™- 
 
 
 I ■; 
 ' i' 
 
W 1 1 
 
 268 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 *' What prophecy, sir ?" 
 
 " The end of the world, with which we are threatened 
 in this year. God, how the flames rage and mount. 
 Would it were the great fire, and He had come to judge 
 us, and to empty the vials of His wrath upon profligates 
 and seducers." 
 
 He looked at the face opposite, radiant with reflected 
 rose and gold, supernatural in that strange light, and, oh, 
 so calm in every line and feature, the large dark eyes meet- 
 ing his with a gaze that seemed to him half indignant, half 
 reproachful. 
 
 " Oh what hypocrites these women are ! " he told him- 
 self. " And all alike— all alike. What comedians ! For 
 acting one need not go to the duke's or the king. One 
 may see it at one's own board, by one's own hearth. Act- 
 ing, nothing but acting ! And I thought that in the 
 universal mass of falsehood and folly there were some rare 
 stars, dwelling apart, here and there, and that she was one 
 of them. An idle dream ! Nature has made them all in 
 one mould, and it is but by means and oiii)ortunity that 
 they differ." 
 
 Higher and higher rose that vast sheet of vivid color ; 
 and now every tower and steeple was bathed in rosy light, 
 or else stood black against the radiant sky— towers illumi- 
 nated,, towers in densest shadow ; the slim spars of ships 
 showing as if drawn with pen and ink on a sulphur back- 
 ground—a scene of surpassing splendor and terror. 
 Fareham had seen Flemish villages blazing, Flemish 
 citadels exploding, their fragments hurled skyward in a 
 blue flame of gunpowder; but never this vast arch of 
 crimson, glowing and growing before his astonished gaze, 
 as he paddled the boat inshore, and stood up to watch the 
 great disaster. 
 
 '*God has remembered our modern Sodom," he said 
 savagel}-. "^He has punished us with pestilence, and wo 
 
Which Was The Fiercer Fire. 
 
 269 
 
 took no heed. And now He tries ua with fire. But if it 
 come not yonder,- pointing to Whitehall, which was im- 
 mediately above them, for their boat lay close to the kin^r's 
 andmg-stage-; if, like the contagion, it stays in the east 
 and only the citizens suffer, why, vive la bagatelle ! We 
 -and our concubines-have no part in the punishment. 
 We, who call down the fire, do not suffer it " 
 
 Spellbound by that strange spectacle, Fareham stood 
 and gazed and Angela was afraid to urge him to take tlie 
 boat on to Fareham House, anxious as she was to span 
 
 those few hundred yards of distance, to be assured of her 
 
 sister's safety. 
 
 ^ They waited thus nearly an hour, the sky ever increas- 
 ing m brilliancy, and the sounds of voices and tramp of 
 hurrying feet growing with every minute. Whitehall was 
 now all a ive-men and women, in a careless undress, at 
 every window, some of them hanging half out of the window 
 to talk to people in the court below. Shrieks of terror or 
 of wonder, ejaculations and oaths sounding on every side • 
 while Fareham, who had moored the boat to an iron rin^ 
 in the wall by his majesty's stairs, stood gloomy and mo- 
 tionless, and made no further comment, only watched the 
 conflagration in dismal silence, fascinated by that pro- 
 digious ruin. ^ 
 
 It was but the beginning of that stupendous destruction 
 yet It was already great enough to seem like the end of all 
 things. 
 
 -And last night, in the court theater, Killigrew's pup- 
 pets had been making a jest of a pestilence that filled the 
 grave-pits by thousands,'^ Fareham muttered, as if awak- 
 ing from a dream. " Well, the wits will have a new sub- 
 ject tor their mirth- London in flames.'' 
 
 He untied the rope, took his seat, and rowed out into 
 the stream, mthin that hou^^ in which they had waited, 
 the ihames had covered itself with traffic; boats w^re 
 
 I 4, 
 
ill 
 
 I 
 
 it •' 
 
 270 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 moving westward, loaded with frightened sonls in casual 
 attire, and with heaps of humble goods and chattels. 
 Some whoso houses were nearest the river had been quick 
 enough to save a portion of their poor possessions, and to 
 get them packed on barges ; but these were the wise 
 minority. The greater number of the sufferers were 
 stupefied by the suddenness of the calamity, the rapidity 
 with which destruction rushed upon them, the flames 
 leaping from house to house, spanning chasms of empti- 
 ness, darting hither and thither like living creatures, or 
 breaking out mysteriously in fresh places, so that already 
 the cry of arson had arisen, and the ever-growing fire was 
 set down to fiendish creatures laboring secretly in a work 
 of universal destruction. 
 
 Most of the sufferers looked on at the ruin of their 
 homes paralyzed by horror, unable to help themselves or 
 to mitigate their losses by energetic action of any kind. 
 Dumb and helpless as sheep, they saw their homes de- 
 stroyed, their children's lives imperilled, and could only 
 thank Providence, and those few brave men who helped 
 them in their helplessness, for escape from a fiery death. 
 Panic and ruin prevailed within a mile eastward of Fare- 
 ham House, when the boat ground against the edge of the 
 marble landing-stage, and Angela alighted and ran quickly 
 up the stairs, and made her way straight to the house. 
 The door stood wide open, and candles were burning in 
 the vestibule. The servants were at the estern end of the 
 terrace watching the fire ; too much engrossed to see their 
 master and his companion land at the western steps. 
 
 At the foot of the great staircase Angela heard herself 
 called by a crystaline voice, and, looking up, saw Henriette 
 hanging over the bannister rail. 
 " Auntie, where have you been ? " 
 " Is your mother with you ! " Angola asked, 
 "Mother is locked in her bed-chamber, and mighty 
 
Which Was The Fiercer Fire. 271 
 
 sullen. She told me to go to bed. As if anybody could 
 lie quietly in bed with London burning ! " added Papillon 
 her tone implying that a great city in flames Avas a kind of 
 entertainment that could not be too higlily appreciated. 
 
 bhe came flying downstairs like a winged creature in 
 her pretty silken deshabille, with lier hair streaming, and 
 flung her arms round her aunt's neck. 
 
 " Ma chatte, where have you been ? " 
 
 *'0n the terrace.'' 
 
 - Fi done, mentouse ! I saw you and my father land at 
 the west stairs, five minutes ago." 
 
 " We had been looking at the fire." 
 
 " And you never offered to take me with you. What 
 a greedy pig ! " 
 
 " Indeed, dearest, it is no scene for little girls to look 
 upon." 
 
 "And when I am grown up what shall I have to talk 
 about if I miss all the great sights ? " 
 
 " Come to your room, love. You will see only too 
 much from your windows. I am going to your mother " 
 " Ce n'est pas la peine. She is in one of her tempers 
 and has locked herself in." ' 
 
 " No matter. SIio will see me." 
 
 " I doubt it. She came home in a coach and four nearly 
 two hours ago, with Monsieur de Malfort ; and I think 
 they must have quarreled. They bade eaeli other good- 
 night so strangely ; but he was more huffed than mother " 
 " Where were you that you know so much ? " 
 "In the gallery. Did I not u'l) you I shouldn't be able 
 to sleep ? I went into the £^:ij;ery for coolness, and tlien I 
 heard the coach in the cour.yavd, nnd the doors opened 
 and I listened," ' 
 
 " InquiBitive child ! " 
 
 '• No, I was not inquisitive. I was only vastly hipped 
 for want of knowing \4^hat to do with myself. And I ran 
 
 I 4 
 
 .% 
 
^ "1 
 
 i i 
 
 272 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 to bid her ladysliip good morning, for it was close upon 
 one o clock ; but she frowned at me, and pushed me aside 
 wuh a ' Go to your bed, troublesome imp. AVhat business 
 have you up at tiiis hour ?' 'As much business as you 
 have riduig about in your coach,' I had a mind to say 
 mais je me tenais coy ; and made her ladyship la belle 
 Jennings curtsey instead. She curtseys lower and rises 
 straighter than any of the otlier ladies. I watched Iier on 
 motlier s visiting day. Lord, auntie, how white you are I 
 Une might take you for a ghost ! " 
 
 Angela put the little prattler aside, more gently, perhaps 
 than the mother had done, and passed hurriedly on to 
 Lady Fareham's room. The door was still locked, but she 
 would take no denial. 
 
 " I must speak with you," she said. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 
 
 THE MOTIVE— MUEDER. 
 
 For Lady Fareham and her sister September and Octo- 
 ber made a blank interval in the story of life-uneventful 
 as the empty page at the end of a chapter. They spent 
 those months at Fareham, a house which Hyacinth detested 
 a neighborhood where she had never condescended to make 
 friends. She condemned the local gentry as a collection 
 of nobodies, and had never taken the trouble to please the 
 three or four great families within a twenty-mile drive 
 because, though they had rank and consequence, they had 
 not fashion. The haut goAt of Paris and London was 
 wanting to them. 
 
 Lord Fareham had insisted upon leaving London on the 
 
The Motive— Murder. 
 
 273 
 
 third of September, and had, his wife declared, out of pure 
 malignity taken his family to Faroliam, a place she hated 
 rather than to Chilton, a place she loved, at least as much 
 as any civilized mortal could love the country. Never, 
 Hyacinth protested, had lier husband been so sullen and 
 ferocious. 
 
 " lie is not like an angry man,'^ she told Angela, " but 
 like a wounded lion ; and yet, since your goodness took all 
 the blame of my unlucky escapade upon your shoulders 
 and he knows nothing of De Malfort's insolent attempt to 
 carry me off, I see no reason why he should have become 
 such a gloomy savage.'' 
 
 She accepted her sister's sacrifice with an amiable light- 
 ness. How could it harm Angela to be thought to have 
 run out at midnight for a frolic rendezvous ? The maids 
 of honor had some such adventure half a dozen times in a 
 season, and were found out, and laughed at, and laughed 
 again, and woundup their tempestuous career by marr vino- 
 great noblemen. ^ 
 
 " If you can but get yourself talked about you may marry 
 as high as you choose," she told lier sister. 
 
 Early in November they went back to London, and 
 though all Hyacinth's fine people protested that the town 
 stank of burnt wood, smoked oil, and rosin and was al- 
 together odious, they rejoiced not the less to be back again. 
 Lady Fareham plunged with renewed eagerness into the 
 whirlpool of pleasure, and tried to drag Angela with her ; 
 but it was a surprise to both, and to one a cause for un- 
 easiness, when his lordship began to show himself in scenes 
 which he had for the most part avoided as well as reviled. 
 For some unexplained reason he became now a frequent 
 attendant at the evening festivities at Whitehall, and 
 Without even the pretense of being interested or amused 
 there. 
 iS 
 
 i < 
 
ir 
 
 274 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 Fareham's reappearance at Court caused more surprise 
 tlian pleasure in that brilliant circle. The statue of the 
 tommandaute would scarcely have seemed a grimrier 
 guest. He was there in the midst of laughter and delight 
 with never a smile upon his stern features. He was silent 
 for the most part, or if badgered into talking by some of 
 his more familiar acquaintances, would vent his spleen in 
 a tirade that startled them as the pleasant chirpings of a 
 poultry-yard are startled by the raid of a dog. Thev 
 laughed at his conversation behind his back : but in his 
 presence, under the angry light of those gray eyes the 
 gloom of those bent brows, they were chilled into submis- 
 sion and civility. He had a dignity which made his puri- 
 tanical plainness more patrician than Eochester's finery 
 more impressive than Buckingham's graceful splendor.' 
 The force and vigor of his countenance were more striking 
 than Sedley s beauty. The eyes of strangers singled him 
 out m that gay throng, and people wanted to know who 
 he was, and what he had done for fame. 
 ^ A soldier, yes, cela saute aux yeux. He could be noth- 
 ing else than a soldier. A cavalier of the old school. 
 Albeit younger by half a lifetime than Southampton and 
 tJarendon, and the other ghosts of the troubles. 
 Charles treated him with chill civility. 
 "Why does the man come here without his wife ?'' ho 
 asked De Malfort. "There is a sister, too, freshe'r and 
 fairer than her ladyship. Why are we to have the shadow 
 without the sun ? Yet it is as well perhaps they keep 
 away ; for I have heard of a visit which was not returned 
 -a condescension from a woman of the highest rank 
 slighted by a trumpery baron's wife, and after an offense 
 of that kind she could only have brought us trouble. Why 
 do women quarrel, Wilmot ?" 
 
 " Why are there any men in the world, sir ? '' If ih.y^ 
 were none, women would live together like lambs in a 
 
The Motive— Murder. 275 
 
 meadow. It is only about m they flght. As for Lartv 
 Faroham, she b a^lorable, though nl loigtr youu' \t. 
 hevo she wjll be thirty on hernext birthday." 
 
 tin : spoljo to her, and tiien flamed like a rod rose So 
 sh. so easdy startled. 'Tia pity tl>at shyness of y^th 
 
 M a'Ti ill:r "" '" ^ ^"*- ' ""- -™- ty thfs tTl 
 ms. linkland is as brazen as the boldest of our voun<r 
 houns yonder," with a glance in the direetion of le mS 
 
 wav ng fans, g ggU„g, ,vh;,j,„i^^ ^j^^^,,^ 
 
 with the impudentest of men in his majesty's kin^om • 
 
 dice and strong drmk ; roving the streets half-elad dis 
 heveled, wanton ; beating tlie watch, and insulting Ice t 
 pedestrians, with occasional vicious outbreaks whil woi M 
 have been revolting in a company of inebriated co I 
 heavers, and which brought these ilL gentlmn before a 
 
 whi h Tal ;T''"*"-, ,^"'^— '°"iS- the manners 
 wnich baint Bvremond lightly sang— 
 
 " 'La douce erreur no s'appelait point crime ■ 
 I*s vices (lelioats se nommaient des plaisirs.' " 
 
 "Mistress Kirkland lias an inexorable modesty which 
 
 sh^ntl! ■, "I''"l.™t'"lo'-ethc matron I should wor- 
 Srwrr^Jd '^'^ ' '°^ "'^ ™'°'' -''" '"^ "- ' - 
 
 thSy-scTftlSL'" ''" '' ^^=*-'' ^»- »' "'- -^ 
 
 atlix'^rdC^T'^^'-W"-! «'->' -^0 -ore attractive 
 
 " Yes, villain ; for at my age thou wilt have experieuoe." 
 
 ' 1 
 1 
 
RJ^iv 
 
 5 
 
 11 il = 
 .'I 
 
 1 
 
 a 
 
 2;6 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 " And a reputation for incorrigible vice. No woman of 
 tasto Clin resist that." 
 
 ** And pray who is Mrs. Kirkland's lover ?" 
 
 "A Puritan baronet. One Denzil Warner." 
 
 ''There was a Warner killed at Ilopton Heath." 
 
 *'His son, sire. A follow who believes in extempore 
 prayer and republican government ; and swears England 
 was never so happy or prosperous as under Cromwell." 
 
 " And the lady favors this psalm-singing rebel ?" 
 
 " I know not. For all I have seen of the two she 
 has been barely civil to him. That he adores her a 
 obvious, and I knew Lady Fareham's heart is set upon the 
 match." 
 
 "Why did not Lady Fareham return the Countesi.'a 
 visit ?" 
 
 There was no need t > n ;k what countess. 
 
 " Bo sure, sire, ii'v L 'riband was to blame, if there was 
 want of respect for cluit lovely lady. I can answer for 
 Lady Fareham's right feeling in that matter." 
 
 " The husband takes a leaf out of Hyde's book, and for- 
 gets what may be passed over in the Lord Chancellor, and 
 a man of prodigious usefulness, is intolerable in a person 
 of Fareham's insignificance." 
 
 " Nay, sire, insignificance is scarcely the word. I would 
 as soon call a thunderstorm insignificant. The man is a 
 volcano and may explode at any provocation." 
 
 " We want no such suppressed fires at Whitehall. Nor 
 do we want long faces, as Clarendon may discover some 
 day, if his sermons grow too troublesome." 
 
 *' The chancellor is a domestic man, as your Majesty may 
 infer from the size and splendor of his new house." 
 
 "He is an expensive man, Wilmot. I believe he got 
 more by the sale of Dunkirk than his master did." 
 
 *' In that case your Majesty cannot do'better than shift 
 all the disgrace of the transaction on to his shoulders. 
 
The Motive—Murder. 
 
 277 
 
 Dunkirk will be a sure card to play when Clarendon has to 
 go overboard." 
 
 That incivility of Lady Fareham's in the matter of an 
 unretur.H-.l visit had rankled deep in the bosom of the 
 king 8 imperious mistress. To sin moreboldly than wo 
 ever sinned, and yet to claim all the privileges and h. 
 due to virtue was but a trifling inconsistency in a mind so 
 fortified by rade that it scarce knew how to reckon with 
 shame. That she in h.r supremacy of beauty and splendor, 
 a xortune sparkling in itlier ear, the price of a landed estate 
 on her neck-that shu Barbara, Countess of Castlomaine, 
 should have driven in a windovvless coach throu li dustv 
 lanes, eating dirt as it were, with her train of courtVuants 
 on hor.. ,..ck at her coach doors, her ladies in a carriage in 
 the rear, to visit a person of Lady Fareham's petty quality, 
 a Buckinghamshire knight's daughter nmrried to a baron of 
 Henry the Eiglah's creation ! And that this amazing con- 
 descension-received with a smiling and curtseying civility 
 -should have been unacknowledged by any reciprocal 
 courtesy was an affront that could hardly be wiped out 
 with blood. Indeed, it could never be atoned for The 
 wound w . poisoned, and would rankle and fester to the 
 end of that proud life. 
 
 Yet on Fareham's appearance at Whitehall Lady Castle- 
 maiiie distinguished him with a marked civility, and even 
 condescended, smilingly, as if there were no cause of 
 quarrel, to inquire after his wife. 
 
 -'Her ladyship is as pretty as ever, though we are all 
 growing old/ she said. - We exchanged curtsies at Tun- 
 bridge Wells ihe other day. I wonder ho^v it is we never 
 get further than smiles and curtsies ? I should like to 
 show the dear^wom.'i .1 some more substantial civility She 
 is^buried alive in your stately house by the river, for want 
 Oi an lufluentiai iriend ^ -^ ' 
 
 m 
 
 }> 
 
 show her tlie world we 1 
 
 ive 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-S) 
 
 5< 
 
 /. 
 
 / 
 
 
 
 / 
 
 z 
 ^ 
 
 
 p 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 11.25 
 
 l^|2.8 
 
 2.5 
 
 2.2 
 
 2.0 
 
 m 
 
 LA. IIIIII.6 
 
 V 
 
 <^ 
 
 /a 
 
 OM, 
 
 >> 
 
 
 ^%VV 
 
 'W^' 
 > 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14530 
 
 (716)873-4503 
 
 
 \ 
 
 iV 
 
 <^ 
 
 "f^ 
 
 

 .ft^ 
 
 <; 
 
 <k 
 
 4^ 
 
 t/j 
 
 l 
 
 7. 
 
 % 
 
il 
 
 ' u 
 
 2;8 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 "Indeed, madam, my wife has all the pleasure she 
 desires— her visiting day, her tea-table, her friends." 
 
 " And her admirers. Eochester is always hanging about 
 your garden, or landing witli his wherry, when I go by ; or 
 if he himself be not visible, there are a couple of his water- 
 men on your steps." 
 
 " My Lord Rochester has a precocious wit which amuses 
 my wife and her sister." 
 
 "And then there is De Malfort— an impertinent, second 
 only to Grammont. He and Lady Fareham are twin stars. 
 I have seldom seen them apart." 
 
 " Since De Malfort has the honor of being somewhat inti- 
 mate with your ladyship, he lias doubtless given you full 
 particulars of his friendship for my wife. I assure you 
 It will bear being talked about. There are no secrets 
 in it." 
 
 ''Really ; I thought I had heard something about a sedan 
 which took the wrong road after Killigrew's play. But 
 that was the night before the fire. Good God ! my lord, 
 your face darkens as if a man had struck you. Whatever 
 happened before the fire should have been burnt out of our 
 memories by this time." 
 
 " I see his majesty looking this way, madam, and I 
 have not yet paid my respects to him," Fareham said, 
 moving away, but a dazzling hand on his sleeve arrested 
 him. 
 
 " Oh, your respects will keep ; he has Miss Stewart gig- 
 gling at his elbow. Strange, is it not, that a woman with 
 as much brain as a pigeon can amuse a man who reckons 
 himself both wise and witty ?" 
 
 " It is not the lady who amuses the gentleman, madam. 
 She has the good sense to pretend that he amuses her." 
 
 "And no more understands a jest than she does He- 
 brew." 
 
 "She is conscious of pretty teeth and an enchanting 
 
The Motive- -Murder. 
 
 leasure she 
 
 27g 
 
 smue Wit or understanding would be superfluous" a, 
 -red Fare].., and bowed his adieu to the Sultana 1 
 
 an- 
 in 
 
 saw and wondered -it \W .> l. ri ' ^"''"''^ "^^'"'^^^ 
 
 li'int wovL 1 1 } .splendid scene, and at this bril- 
 iunt world, which calanitv could not fnnnl. p n 
 W ravaged ti.e city, fl^os'Lad , vo td "tt W r° 
 
 gious height that the apotheosis of Kin^ ^^ such piod - 
 
 "We are a little kinder to Rubens at the Louvre " said 
 DeMalfort, noting her upward gaze • -for ^^1 T 
 
 Paris ? You look about you witht" o^™ „: . rjj ^t 
 pleased to keep h,m by her side, ratl.cr tbau see him de! 
 
 I < 
 
iU 
 
 n 
 
 
 !| 
 
 280 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 vote himself to her sister ; grateful for his attention in that 
 crowd, where most people were strangers, and where Lord 
 Fareham had not vouchsafed the slightest notice of her. 
 "When you have seen the Louvre, you will wonder that 
 any king with a sense of his own consequence in the world, 
 can inhabit such a hovel as Whitehall— this congeries of 
 shabby apartments, the offices of servants, the lodgings of 
 followers and dependents, soldiers and civilians, huddled 
 in a confused labyrinth of brick and stone— redeemed from 
 squalor only by one fine room. Could you see the grand 
 proportions, the colossal majesty of the great Henri's 
 palace— that palace whose costly completion sat heavy upon 
 Sully's careful soul ! Jlcnri loved to build— and his grand- 
 son, Louis, inherits that Augustan taste." 
 
 " You were telling us of the new palace at Versailles—" 
 "A royal city in stone— white— dazzling— grandiose. 
 The mortar was scarcely dry when I was there in March ; 
 but you should have seen the mi carome ball. The finest 
 masquerade that was ever beheld in Europe. All Paris 
 came in masks to see that magnificent spectacle. ^' 
 majesty allowed entrance to all— and those who came ^' 
 feasted at a banquet which only Rabelais could fairly de- 
 scribe. And then with our splendor there is an elegant 
 restraint— a decency unknown hero. Compare these 
 women— Lady Shrewsbury yonder. Lady Chesterfield, the 
 fat woman in sea-green and silver— Lady Castlemaine, 
 brazen in orange velvet and emeralds— comr.are them with 
 Conde's sister, with the Duchess de Bouillon, the Princess 
 
 Palatine " 
 
 " Are those such gocd women ?" 
 
 "Humph ! They are ladies. These are the kind of 
 women King Charles admires. They are an distinct a 
 raceas the dogs that lie in his bedchamber, and follow him 
 in his walks, a species of his own creation. They do not 
 even affect modesty. But I am turning preacher, like 
 
The Motive-Murder. 281 
 
 Ha., the rope dancer, ^T^^l^L^" ^'^S'-'""' J^" 
 
 4or4S:nu:::r„ter "v^^'*"' --™^ -' 
 
 her to tl>e sm.pcr room nff^ '^'f "■"t'"'""™'' '^'tendod 
 them from 1™ Ico in tL f r'''' ^""'^"^ ^^hod 
 aloof from the royafo^/'LtT""!' , "^ ^'""-^ ^^»^ 
 dazzling JOWO.S, Z'ZZl tienKlnt"'''^''''' "■°^' 
 the court, but not of it. raiment. Ho was in 
 
 Yes ; the passion wliich tliose two entort»i«„rf t 
 other was patent to every eye • but Ind iM [ "'"''' 
 
 able passion upon De MaIforf'« V ? ^'"'" " '""""■ 
 elared himself before now rrl ' m '" ™"''' '■•■"" "J"' 
 the Add to such asobe Initor aT T' ';»™''hando„ed 
 fort loved her, mdZlThL ' '^""" ""^ =^W- 
 
 smiles, the low and tie ton sTT "'"' '"^ ''"^'"^^ 
 Fareham had ever listened to "°" ""'''='" ™'"» 
 
 "Z!:: s3 ttr e:rfe.r on V dv^ "-,"«»"-"« 
 
 thought, recalling those sota™ Ly rfd^rls"""'';^ 
 P%ue year, recalling with a LdTonrin. ? tt " '^' 
 which shows dazzling white a,.-,i„,t rt„ *'' , ''^' ^™ 
 his sleeve, is the arm tb. 1? " P""'?'" ™'™t of 
 
 dawnof r tun r,™ "' t, '^^ "^ 7 ""'""« '"""i' i" the 
 in his, are tli Z u ^iool^ dT^''''''''''°'"''''""ghter 
 
 -rious so deep^; itiot t trZvr;" V T^? 
 
 angel, I would be a leper asain •, r,l! f-*^' , ''' '"''^'J' 
 only to drink a eup of 'watTSm ttfT f? '™'^''' 
 feel the touch of those 7ri 7 W hand-only to 
 
 Therewasamafficinthttt w *'"'" "" ""? 'orehead ! 
 
 power of kfnS Thl " '• ''■" '"'■"°''"'' "'" '"^"""S 
 benignant yet Bu t 1 . " ■''« " "^ °' '""'™" "' 'hose 
 
 i» p4ne.stSen w h tt;i! r^f ^"■™*^"- ^''^ 
 He. Wings are scorched by tS-':f^?4 V^dtK^t: 
 
282 
 
 When The World Was Younjrer. 
 
 tatl 
 
 Slie has been taught to dress, and to look like the women 
 around her— a little more modest— hut after the same 
 fashion. The nun I worshiped is no more." 
 
 Some one tapped him on the shoulder Avith an ostrich fan. 
 He turned, and saw Lady Castlemaine close at his elbow. 
 
 " Image of gloom, will you lead me to my rooms ? " she 
 asked, in a curious voice ; her dark blue eyes deepened by 
 the pallor that showed through her rouge. 
 
 *' I shall esteem myself too much honored by that office," 
 he answered, as she took his arm, and moved quickly, with 
 hurried footsteps through the lessening throng. 
 
 " Oh, there is no one to dispute the honor with you. 
 Sometimes I have a niob to hustle me to my lodgings, 
 borne on the current of their adulation— sometimes I move 
 through a desert, as I do to-night. Your face attracted 
 me— for I believe it is the only one at Whitehall as gloomy 
 as my own— unless there are some of my creditors here 
 men to whom I owe gaming debts." 
 
 It was curious to note that subtle change in the faces of 
 those they passed, which Barbara Palmer knew so well- 
 faces that changed, obedient to the weather-cock of royal 
 caprice — the countenances of courtiers who even yet had 
 not learnt justly to weigh the influence of that imperial 
 favorite, or to understand that she ruled their king with 
 a power which no transient fancy for newer faces could un- 
 dermine. A day or two in the sulks, frowns and mourn- 
 ful looks for godsip Pepys to jot down in his diary, and the 
 next day the sun would be shining again, and the king 
 Avould be at supper with "the Lady." 
 
 Perhaps Lady Castlemaine knew that her empire was 
 secure ; but she took these transient fancies moult serieuse- 
 ment. Her jealous soul could tolerate no rival— or it may 
 be that she really loved the king. He had given himself 
 to her in the flush of his triumphant return, while he was 
 still young enough to feel a genuine passion. For her sake 
 
The Motive— Murder. 
 
 283 
 
 he had been a cruel husband, an insolent tyrant to a weak 
 harmless queen ; for her sake he had squandered his people's 
 money, and outraged every moral law ; and it may^be tha 
 she remembered these things, and hated him the more 
 fiercely for them when he was inconstant. She was a 
 woman of extremes, in whose passionate breast there was 
 no medmm between hatred and love. 
 
 w •1^''" ''il^ '\'P ^'^^' ""'' ^'-'"'^''^'^ •'" «'^« ^^i^l as he 
 waited on he threshold of her lodgings, which we e in a 
 
 detached pile of buddings, near the Holbein Gateway, and 
 
 °^YonrTri'"'^'n^''^^^ somewhat gloomy garden. 
 
 home ' ^^^^'^ ''''"'' ""'• ^ """^ '""^'^^'^ -^ 
 
 , 'i^^^'^l'^^'^'^J ^I'^^^M^s you think I am inviting you to 
 a tete-a-tete. I shall have some company, thoifgh the 
 drove have gone to the Stewart's, in a hope of getting 
 asked to supper-which but a few of them can realize if 
 her mean lodgings. You had better stay. I may have 
 Buckhurst, Sedley,De Malfort, and a few more of the 
 pretty fellows-enough to empty your pockets at basset." 
 J^ITJ f ^'^' '' ''" goodness," said Fareham, quickly. 
 De Malfort s name had decided him. He followed his 
 hostess through a cloud of lackeys, a splendor of wax can- 
 die , to her saloon where she turned, and flashed upon him 
 aglorious picture of mature loveliness, the peach in its 
 npest bloom, against a background of purple damask and 
 
 The logs blazed and roared in the wide chimney. 
 
 ^\ armth opulence, hospitality, were all expressed in the 
 
 brdhantly lighted room, where luxurious fauteuils, after 
 
 he new French fashion, stood about, ready to receive her 
 
 ladyship's guests. 
 
 These were not long waited for. There was no crowd 
 Less than twenty men, and about a dozen women, were 
 enough to add an air of living gaiety to the brilliancy of 
 
 I « 
 
384 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 light iind color. Do Malfort was tlio lust who entered. 
 He kissed her Itulysliip's hand, looked about him, and rec- 
 ognized Fareham witli ojien wonder. 
 
 **An Israelite in the liouse of Dagon I" he said, sotto 
 voce. As he approached him, " AVhat, Fareham, have you 
 given your neck to tlio yoke ? ])o you yield to the charm 
 whicli has subjugated such ligliter natures as Villiers and 
 Buckhurst?" 
 
 " It is only human to love variety. You have discovered 
 the charm of youth and innocence." 
 
 " Think it needs a modish Columbus to discover that ? 
 We all worship innocence, were it but for its rarity, as we 
 esteem a black pearl or ayollow diamond above a white one. 
 Jami, but I am pleased to see you here. It is the most 
 human thing I have knoAvn of you since you recovered of 
 the contagion, for you have been a gloomier man from 
 that time." 
 
 " Be assured I am altogether human— at least upon the 
 evil side of humanity." 
 
 '' How dismal you look. Upon my soul, Fareham, you 
 should fight against that melancholic habit. Her ladyship 
 is in the black sulks. We are in for a pleasant evening. 
 Yet, if we were to go away, she would storm at us to-mor- 
 row ; call us sycophants and time-servers, swear she would 
 have no further commerce with any manjack among our 
 detestable crew. Well, she is a magnificent termagant. If 
 Cleopatra was half as handsome, I can forgive Antony for 
 following her to ruin at Actium." 
 
 "There is supper in the music-room, gentlemen," said 
 Lady Castlemaine, who was standing near the fire in the 
 midst of a knot of whispering women. They had been abus- 
 ing the fair Frances, and ridiculing old Eowley to gratify 
 their hostess. She knew them by heart-their falsehood and 
 hollowness. She knew that they were ready, every one of 
 them, to steal her roy^ lover had they but the chance of 
 
The Motive— Murder. 285 
 
 Buch a conquest; yet it solaced her soreness to hear Miss 
 Stewart doprecmted even by those take Iin« « J [ 
 
 full" tnr li -^ ;^" "J i-nobtiai&eiips — "Whowastoo 
 tal Her Britannia profile looked as if it was eut out 
 
 of the wood/ ^« She was bold, bad, desi^^iing/' "itwas 
 have wT'^ ^-- ^^- ^"^^^ -t the ling' who wo^d 
 
 ^nl7''"•''''*°^"'''"'^°"'''"y ^^'™*^ I'rice," said Ladv 
 Castlemaine, with more good-humor tlian had been se n in 
 her eountenancethatevening. "Bnekhurst, wi 1 you t'ko 
 Mrs. Price to supper ? There are cards in tlie gdlerv 
 Pray amuse yourselves.'- ga^ery. 
 
 Sedlfj^!* ^''^ ^'"' ^''^^'^^P ""''''''' ^"P ^'^ Vl^y ? " asked 
 
 T JIm^ ^^^y«'"P h'-^s a raging headache. What devil ! Did 
 I not lose enough to some of you blackguards ? Do von 
 
 ijuest on mg. All tlio town knew next day that she h-ul 
 contnyed to got the royal supper interecpted and oar fed 
 off on * way from the king's kitchen to Mifs Sterart'stoT. 
 
 beanty. It was a joke quite in the humor of the a^c 
 The company molted out of the room • all but vJf' 
 who watohed Lady Castlemaine as she sLod bv tL , ^' 
 
 man altitude of hopeless se.f-forgettnt^ein^'jr;* 
 the lofty seulptured chimney-piece, one slend„r f / 
 gold-embroidered slipper and'tLsp'aren oekL Z leS 
 
 rxLr;^i-tsrirtd-ror^^^^^^^^ 
 
fcj, / 
 
 286 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 In spite of thut sullen downward guze she was conscioua 
 oiJ^areham's lingering. 
 
 ^ " Why do yon stay, my lord ?" slie asked, without look- 
 mg up. " If your i)ur8e is heavy there are friends of mine 
 yonder who will lighten it for you, fairly or foully. I Uvo 
 never made up my mind how far a gentleman may be a 
 rogue with impunity. If you don't love losing money you 
 nad best eat a good sui)per and begone." 
 
 ''I thank you, madam. I am more in the mood for 
 cards than for feasting. " 
 
 She did not answer him, but clasped her hands suddenly 
 betore lier face and gave a heart-breaking sigh. Fareham 
 paused on the tlireshold 6f the gallery, watching her, and 
 then went slowly back, bent down to take the hand that 
 had dropped at her side, and pressed his lips upon it 
 sdently, respectfully, with a kind of homage that had be- 
 come strange of late years to Barbara Palmer. Adorers 
 she had and to spare, toadeaters and flatterers, a regiment 
 of mercenaries ; but these all wanted something of her- 
 kisses, smiles, influence, money. Disinterested respect 
 WJis new. ^ 
 
 " I thought you were a Puritan, Lord Fareham." 
 "I am a man ; and I know what it is to suffer the hell- 
 nre of jealousy." 
 
 "Jealousy, yes ! I never was good at hiding my feelings 
 He treats me shamefully. Come, now, you take me foran 
 abandoned, profligate woman, a callous wanton. That is 
 what the world takes me for; and perhaps I have deserved 
 no better of the world. But whatever I am 'twas he made 
 me so If he had been true, I could have been constant. 
 It IS the insolence of abandonment that stings, the careless 
 slights; scarce conscious that he wounds. Before the 
 eyes of the world, too, before wretches that grin and 
 whisper and prophesy the day when my pride shall be in 
 tHe dust. It IS treatment such as this that makes women 
 
The Motive— Murder. 
 
 2S7 
 
 lospcra 0; „„,1 if wo cnnot k,...i, I,i,„ wo I„vo, we mal<„ 
 behovo o ovo some one ol.o, „,ul ti„„„t „„r f„ ey i , i," 
 d.,oe,ver»f«oe IJoyo,, ti,i„k 1 e,u,,l for „„olfi„!^„ m 
 w h h , heart oi ,ee, or for such a sui,,,, ,« .Tor„,y„;or o^ 
 a base-horn rope-daneor ? >f„, F„cham ; there I, as hcen 
 more of rage a.id liato than of „,,s,ion in n,J 
 And he is with l-Vanees Stewart i,!;™™ ShZt X 
 amodel of ehastity, and is to n.arry liiohmo uln" „™,th 
 But we knew, Faroham, we know. Woraen wir t 
 m glass eoaehes should not throw stones. I will ho 
 
 g ves me Ther :'"" ""', Z, "'° '" '" *« rain he 
 fZ^^e nljS'?.?"-^'" ' ^"^ ''" ^- '™r' - to 
 
 my heart bleeds for your wrongs. So beautiful, so hiirh 
 above all other women in the eapacity to eharm ! Ah be- 
 heve me, sueh loveliness has its responsibilities. It is t 
 g.f from Heaven and to hold it ehoap is a mistake." 
 There is nothing ,n this life can be held too ehean 
 
 'I: " " " '"";"■ ^""h™' " f-"-eo ; ..nd all our pleal 
 «res and diversions only serve to mai:„ us forget Vht 
 worms we are. There, go-to eards-to supper-asyon 
 please. I an, going to my hedehamher to rest this ZhZ 
 head. I may retni-n and take a hand at eards by-and bv 
 perhaps. Those fellows will game and booze ^iUdaJ: 
 
 Fareham opened the door for her, and she went out, regal 
 m port and air. She had moved him to eempassion oTen 
 
 and t'o sl"™!""^""/ '™'""- ''•> '°- 1»- n"te y- 
 a^nv and T ' "'""'"'■ '^''"^ '» ' brotherhood in 
 Wny, and brings even opposite natures into sympathv 
 He passed into the gallery, a long low room, h™g S 
 modem tapestries, richly colored, voluptuous in des^ 
 
 
288 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 m rth reitmprl fnl^ i i. fe""/"^^'^ » «P'nt , at othera 
 iurm reigned— talk, laughter, animated looks O.u, nf 
 the nois.eat was the table at which De MnuL u^ fi 
 
 you .a.koa the ea.as .- b"/a IT; ^'Z ^^ „Z t^ 
 do. I , """' °' S"""* ""t"™' "•"l I ™ the luckiest 
 
The Motive— Murder. 
 
 289 
 
 way to perdition " '"""'' "'"' P»»"» "'o 
 
 the visitor, loavi ; i^r t " , th' "f'?' *''" ™' °' 
 
 hospitable house pll ""■ '""'"' '"""■ '" tl'at 
 
 basest i™;Ueati„l°;rf2:7./™'"''^ ™™'^^' '""'' X^' 
 
 have heard D^ r,r A ^"""^ °' ''«'"8 "heats. I 
 
 his ten atd fed fi?:" ""^ f ,'!"""« '"-^ - -„ to 
 
 whilehewasdZk " hAT"" '',?' """ ''<^'"='='> ''™ 
 I..lce„ „h„ h. 5 ■ !"* " S""'^* °f <=laret from tl,e 
 ..„lce who bought ks .alver, emptied it, and went on, 
 
!ii 
 
 ^1 
 
 
 i 
 
 290 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 hoarse with passion. *' To the marrow of your bones you 
 are f;ilse, all of you. You do not cog your dice, perhaps, 
 but you bubble your friends with finesses, and are as much 
 sliarpers at heart as the lowest tat-raongers in Alsatia. 
 You empty our purses, and cozen our Avomen with twang- 
 ing guitars and jingling rhymes, and laugh at us because we 
 are honest and trust you. Seducers, tricksters, poltroons." 
 The flunkey was at De Malf ort's elbow now. He snatched 
 a tankard from the salver, and flung the contents across 
 the table, straight at Fareham's face. 
 
 " This bully forces me to spoil his Point de Venice," he 
 said coolly, as he set down the tankard. '' There should 
 be a law for chaining up rabid curs that have run mad 
 without provocation." 
 
 Fareham sprang to his feet, black and terrible, but with 
 a savage exultation in his countenance. The wine poured 
 in a red stream from his point lace cravat, but had not 
 touched his face. 
 
 " There shall be something redder than Burgundy spilt 
 before we have done," he said. 
 
 *'Sacre nom, nous sommes tombes dans un Autre de 
 b6tes sauvages," exclaimed Masaroon, starting up, and 
 anxiously examining the skirts of his brocade coat, lest 
 that sudden deluge had caught him. 
 
 "None of your French to show your fine breed- 
 ing," growled the old cavalier. ''Fareham, you deserved 
 the insult ; but one red will wash out another. I'm with 
 your lordship," 
 
 " And I'm with De Malfort ! " said Masaroon. " He had 
 
 more than enough provocation " 
 
 "Gentlemen, gentlemen, no bloodshed!" cried Lady 
 Lucretia; "or, if you are going to be uncivil to each 
 other, for God's sake get me to my chair. I have a hus- 
 band who would never forgive me if it were said you 
 fought for my sake." 
 
The Motive— Murder. jg, 
 
 " We will see yon safely diaposed of, „„ul„„, m„„ ,„„ 
 
 iarelmm, you can take the lady to her ehair whil 
 Masaroon and I discuss " 
 
 hoOv^''" W?^ "'"' »f Ji'-oussion." interrupted Fareham. 
 
 for Ti„,„ th. "'"*-', *° '"■■■""»«— "tl'i^g to wai 
 tor I, mo, the present; place, the garden under these 
 wmdows ; weapons, the swords we w^ar. We si I I a,„ 
 no witnesses b,.t the moon and stars. It is h" de J 
 middle of the night, .and we have the world aL ' :ou "ol Is " 
 "G.ve me your sword, then, that I ma> eomnare it 
 with the count's Yon are satisfied, monsie, r ? "t you 
 
 of weapon" "'"""^"' ^"' ^°'-'' *""™'""" >- "- ^'^ 
 "Let him choose. I will fio-lif- i.im wWi. 
 
 wUh soap huhhles," answered";;: MalL:i,rrr°u 
 h.s eha,r, t.lted at an angle of forty.flve, Inddr^mmn " 
 gay dance tune with his flngerHps on the table. '."tL"! 
 foohsh jmbrog ,0 from first to last : and only his lordshin 
 and I know how foolish. He eame here to provoke ! 
 quarrel, and I must indulge him. Come. Lady L ° r th » 
 he turned to his fair friend, as he unbneMed Ws s „rd.Sd 
 to.g .t on the table, "it is my place to lead yo, „ y^ur 
 chair. Colonel, you and your friend will find me helow 
 stairs m front of the Holbein Gate." 
 
 "You are forgetting your winnings," remonstrated the 
 lady, pointing to the pile of gold. "™stiatcd the 
 
 « The lackeys will not forget them when they clear the 
 oom," answered De Malfort, putting her hand irough 
 h.3 arm, and leaving the money on the table ^ 
 
 inJfrlTtr^ 'f"\f '«'""» ""1 B-^Malfort wore stand- 
 ing front to front in the glare of four torches, held bv a 
 
 htht,,!, H ' «"""'-'/"'<'«'■ %1't "t " moon that rode 
 high m the blue-black of a wintry heaven. There was not 
 
 M..! 
 
lit 
 
 292 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 a sound but the ripple of the unseen river, and the distant 
 cry of a watchman in petty France, till the clash of swords 
 began. 
 
 It was decided after a brief parley that the principals 
 only should fight. The quarrel was private. The seconds 
 placed their men on a piece of level turf, five paces apart. 
 Tliey were bareheaded, and without coat or vest,the lace 
 ruffles of their shirt-sleeves rolled back to the elbow, their 
 naked arms ghastly white, their faces suggesting ghost or 
 devil as the spectral moonlight or the flame of the flam- 
 beaux shone upon them. 
 
 - You mean business, so we may sink the parade of the 
 fencing saloon," said Dangerfield. " Advance, gentlemen " 
 "A pity," murmured Masaroon, -There is nothin- 
 prettier than the salute ' a la Fran^aise.' " "" 
 
 Dangerfield handed the men their swords. They were 
 nearly similar in fashion, both flat-grooved blades, with 
 needle points, and no cutting edge, furnished with shell- 
 guards and cross-bars in the Italian style, and were about 
 01 a length. 
 
 The word was given, and the business of engagement 
 began slowly and warily, for a few moments that seemed 
 minutes ; and then the blades were firmly joined in carte 
 and a series of rapid feints began, De Malfort havin^ a 
 slight advantage in the neatness of his circles, and the 
 swiftness of his wrist play. But in these preliminary 
 lunges and parries, he soon found he needed all his skill 
 to dodge his opp nent's point ; for Fareham's blade followed 
 his own, steadily and strongly, through every turn 
 
 De Malfort had begun the fight with an'msolent smile 
 upon his lips, the smile of a man who believes himself 
 invincible while Fureham's countenance never changed 
 from the black anger that had darkened it all that ni4t 
 It was a face that meant death. A man who had neve^ 
 been a duellist, who had raised his voice sternly against 
 
% 
 
 The Motive— Murder. 3^3 
 
 aside, and so received the Mow wh T""" 'P™"^ 
 grazed his ribs, inmcttg a « V^'nTtl at ?"''", °"'j 
 upon the whiteness „, the shirt Z^tfl M ttT^fl r' 
 cravat, and wanted to bind it round ,1. I '" 
 
 |n,t Fareha. repn^ed hin:,:';; -3 t^Tanlf S 
 met W J"'^' -l' >:•'■•»"''">-''« uncavalier^ ko r, e 
 
 second, Fareham dropped on his Uft v., -"''^^^^'^^ ^^ » 
 
 De Malfort sat swoonino- in ihp nvma ^f4-^ j. 
 «,!,« 1, XI '"wiiino III [lie aims oitJie two seonnrla 
 
 who both sprang to his assistance. seconds. 
 
II i 
 
 IS 
 
 ilH 
 
 294 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 and paints black eyes," and he was off, running across the 
 grass to the nearest gate. 
 
 " It looks plaguily like a coffin," Dangerfield said in a 
 gloomy expressionless voice, Avith his hand on the wounded 
 man's breast. " There's throbbing here yet ; but he may 
 bleed to death, like Lindsey, before surgery can help him. 
 You had better run, Fareham. Take horse to Dover, and 
 
 get across to Calais or Ostend. You were provokino-. 
 
 It might go hard with you if he was to die." 
 
 " I shall not budge, Dangerfield. Didn't you hear me 
 say I wanted to kill him ? You niinrht guess I didn't care 
 a cast of the dice for my life when I said as much. Let 
 them find it murder, and hang me. I wanted him out of 
 the world, and doir't care how soon I follow." 
 ** You are mad — stark, staring mad." 
 The wounded man raised himself on his elbow, groan- 
 ing aloud in the agony of movement, and beckoned Fare- 
 ham, who knelt dovvn beside him, all of a piece, like a 
 stone figure. 
 
 "Fareham, you had better run ; I have powerful friends. 
 There'll be an ugly stir if I die of this bout. Kiss me, men 
 ami, I forgive you. I know what wound rankled ; 'twas 
 for your wife's sister you fought— not the cards." 
 
 He sank into Dangerfield's arms, swooning from loss of 
 blood, as Masaroon came back at a run, bringing a surgeon, 
 an elderly man of that Alsatian class which is to be found 
 out of bed in the small hours. lie brought styptics 
 and bandages, and at once set about staunching the 
 wound. 
 
 While this was happening, a curtain had been suddenly 
 pulled aside at an upper window in Lady Castlemainc's 
 lodgings showing a light within. The window was thrown 
 up, and a figure appeared, clad in a white satin night-gown 
 that glistened in the moonlight with a deep collar of ermine, 
 from which the handsomest face in London looked acruss 
 
The Motive— Murder. 
 
 It was La,ly Castemame. She leant n,,f!'f .v •. 
 ana called to them. "' "''' "ndow 
 
 "What has happened? Is anyone hnrt i- T'll „ 
 thousand p^nds y„„ devils have le„ fl^'ing.!/' ™^^^ " 
 
 window! "'" ='""'^^"' ■'"'"">=" --'her out of the 
 
 'J No; but it looks dangerous." 
 
 "Thes„:;f<;„ifre:e'" """''"'^"«™''f" 
 J tn rr J-: rrr^rr '" ^"^ ^■^^ 
 
 voice calliuff "John w r TT ""P®"^"^' and a 
 
 jack of you.''Laz;d 'vi fi";4"f ' ^^'-;. ^-^ -- 
 
 to fall asleep since tl,eomnatvrft T "° ""■" '^ y°" 
 with yon." company left. Come, stir, and out 
 
 andT:w1wa?^rn"'' *-"'fT'" ■"""-" '^^g-Seld, 
 and unresis 3ha inZI"' 'T Tf "•"" '^™' ^"™' 
 country, howem b^t tn 7J •'''' *'"''' ' '">* '» % ""= 
 House,';ndTo e 'I'mseH il" t Z'VT '» ^"^"^ 
 the household as hfeTordah^-:' ^"'^'" ''°"''' ^"»™ '» 
 
296 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 r' I 
 
 "' a « 
 
 nmn 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 EEVELATIOJ^S. 
 
 Lord Fareham stayed inliis oAvn house by the Thames 
 and nobody interfered with his liberty, though Henri do 
 Malfort lay for nearly a fortnight between life and death 
 and It was only in the beginning of December that he was 
 pronounced out of danger, and was able to be removed 
 from Lady Castlemaine's luxurious rooms to his own lode. 
 ings. _ Scandal-mongers might have made much talk of 
 his lying 111 in her ladyship^s house, and being tenderly 
 nursed by her, had not Lady Castlemaine outlived the 
 possibility of slander. It would have been as difficult for 
 her name to acquire any blacker stain as for a damaged ren- 
 utation to wash itself white. The secret of the encounter 
 had been faithfully kept by principal and seconds, De Mai- 
 fort beuaving with a chivalrous generosity. He appeared 
 indeed, as anxious for his antagonist's safety as for his 
 own recovery. 
 
 "It was a mistake," he said, when Masaroon pressed 
 him with home questions. " Every man is mad once in 
 his life . Fareham s madness took an angry turn against 
 an old friend. Why, we slept under the same blanket in 
 the trenches before Dunkirk ; we rode shoulder to shoulder 
 through the rain of bullets at Chatillon ; and to pick a 
 trumpery qnarrel with a brother-in-arms ! " 
 
 " I wonder the quarrel was not picked earlier," Masaroon 
 answered bluntly. -Your courtship of the gentleman's 
 wife has been notorious for the last five years." 
 
 "Call it not courtship, Ralph; Lady Fareham and I 
 
Revelations. ^ay 
 
 nro ol,I playfellows. Wo were reared in the pavs dn tendre 
 
 penel,a„ts, that coimtry of whicli Madc-moiselle Souderv 
 ha,, g,vc„ „3 law, a„d a map. Your vulgar Londo, lover 
 cannot understand plato„ies-tho affect,™ whirf atTs 
 <.ed wth a smile or a madrigal. Fareham know hi wife' 
 and me hotter than to doubt us." 
 " And yet he acted like a man who was madly iealons 
 
 l""nV'' *"" »""»'"= -- °»vious maLf : ; 
 tiiought. He came resolved to quarrel " 
 
 "Ay, he came to quarrel-but not about his wife " 
 
 afffeteTafit^f?'"' '^^^^ ^"^^^^^ P'--^^ De Malfort 
 altected a fit of languor, and would talk no more 
 
 The town was told that the Comte de Malfort'was ill of 
 
 a quartam fever, and much was said about his suffe wf 
 
 dinung the Fronde, his exposure to damp and eo d in tS 
 
 oa-marshes by Dunkirk, his rough fare and hard r d n ' 
 
 trough the ^ r of the Princes. \his fever' ^Sh lu n^ 
 
 suttered m his yoith-privations faced with a boyish reck- 
 
 S" / t 'r '"' ''''^ ''' ^^^"^ - implii^d c n- 
 ifcution Fnie ladies m gilded chairs, and other fine 
 
 adies m hackney coaches, called frequently at hi^ Ic^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 m 8 . James's Street to inquire about his progress La|y 
 
 Fareham's messenger was at his door every Ir „. 2 
 
 brought a note, or a book, or a piece of new music^^m her 
 
 "You grow every day a gloomier tyrant!" Hvacinth 
 
 pnrndTad = ^' wiXrcrY 
 
 ny urn, oia iriend. I remember r.o joy in Jifn +Vof k, 
 d.d™t_^share. Why should I not ^o^o^ ht t Ma" 
 
 I 4 
 
 ■ ( 
 
 
298 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 " Because you are my wife, and I forbid you ! 1 cannot 
 understand this passion. I thought you suffered the com- 
 pany of tliat empty-headed fop as you suffered your hip- 
 dogs— the trivial appendage of a fine lady's state. Had I 
 supposed there was anything serious in your liking— that 
 you could think him worth anger or tears— I should have 
 ordered your life differently, and he would have had no 
 place in it." 
 
 "Tyrant! tyrant!" 
 
 " You astound me, Hyacinth ! "Would you dispute the 
 favors of a fop with your young sister ?" 
 " With my sister ! " she cried scornfully. 
 "Ay, with your sister, whom he has courted assiduously, 
 but Avith no honorable motive ! I have seen his designs." 
 " Well, perhaps you are right. He may care for Angela 
 — and think her too poor to marry." 
 
 " He is a traitor and a villain " 
 
 " Oh, what fury ! Marry my sister to Sir Denzil, and 
 then she will be safe from all pursuit ! He will bury her 
 alive in Oxfordshire— withdraw her for ever from this 
 wicked town— like poor Lady Yarborough in Cornwall." 
 " I will never ask her to marry a man she cannot love." 
 " Why not ? Are not you and I a happy couple ? and 
 how much love had we for each other before we married ? 
 Why I scarce knew the color of your eyes ; and if I had 
 met you in the street, I doubt if I should have recognized 
 you ! And now, after thirteen years of matrimony, we 
 are at our first quarrel, and that no lasting one. Come, 
 Fareham, be pleasant and yielding. Let me go and see 
 my old playfellow. I am heartbroken for lack of his com- 
 pany, for fear of his death." 
 
 She hung upon him coaxingly, the bright blue eyes 
 looking up at him— ejes that had so often been compared 
 to Madame de Longueville's, eyes that had smiled and 
 beamed in many a song and madrigal— by the poets of the 
 
Revelations 
 
 299 
 
 Hotel de Rambouillet. She was exqr.isitely pretty in her 
 youthfu coloring of lilies and roses, blue eyes lU ml 
 
 Faroham took her by both hands and held her awav 
 from h>m severe y serutinizing a face which ho h,^ aS 
 
 Xoa look liKO an innocent woman," he said "and T 
 
 come an o„d to the sighing and singing. Yo„ and I e„„' 
 
 scorn. I impnte no guilt, but between innocence and 
 gn.U there need be but one passionate hour. The ,0 
 
 home, a„d tlfe rest of htr Hf^e t ^^^^^'7::^ 
 husband awakes some day from his dream of domestic 
 peace to discover that he has been long the laughinrstoefe 
 f the town I will be no such fatuous husband! Hyac nth 
 I will WMt for no second warning." "yaemth. 
 
 Lady Fareham submitted in silence, and with deen r„ 
 s^tment. She had never before e.xpe'ricncJahiSrndt 
 authority st«nly exercised. Si.e had been forbidien the 
 free run of London playhouses, and some of th p ea"nre 
 of court society; but then she had been denied, rift aU 
 
 olaTalTet 1 '"" """"' '» """^ oounterbll nci^g 
 extravagances, pleasures and follies thnf ;+ 1 1 i ^ 
 
 been diffleult for her to think heSilttei ' ""^ 
 
 She submitted angrily, passionately re-'rettin^. the ™.„ 
 
 whoso presence had long boeu the bighesfdem ° TZ 
 
 I 
 

 30O When The World Was Younger. 
 
 life. Ilor oliook palod ; slio grow indifferent to the nmuso- 
 ments which had been tlio business of her life ; sulked in 
 her rooms, equally avoiding her children and their aunt ; 
 and, indeed, seemed to care for no one's society except 
 Mrs. Lewin's. Tlio court milliner had business with her 
 ladyship every day, and was regaled with cakes and liqueurs 
 m her ladyship's dressing-room. 
 
 " You must be very busy about new gowns, Hyacinth," 
 her husband said to her one day at dinner. **I meet the 
 harridan from Covent Garden on the stairs every morning." 
 "She is not a harridan, whatever that elegant word may 
 mean. And as for go^v1ls, it would be wiser for me to 
 have no new ones, since it is but likely I shall soon have to 
 wear mourning for an old friend." 
 
 She looked at her husband, defying him. He rose from 
 the table with a sigh and walked out of the room. There 
 was war between them, or at best an armed neutrality. 
 He looked back, and saw that he had been blind to the 
 things he should have seen, dull and stupid where he 
 should have had sense and understanding. 
 
 "I did not care enough for my honor," he thought. 
 "Was it because I cared too little for my wife ? It is' in- 
 difference, and not love, that is blind." 
 
 Angela saw the cloud that overshadowed Fareham House 
 with deepest distress, and yet felt herself powerless to bring 
 back sunshine. Her sister met her remonstrances with 
 scorn. 
 
 " Do you take the part of a tyrant against your own 
 nesh and blood?" she asked. "I have been too tame 
 a slave. To keep me away from the court while I was 
 young and worth looking at— to deny me amusements and 
 admiration which are the privilege of every woman of 
 quality— to forbid me the playhouse, and make a country 
 cousin of me by keeping me ignorant of modern wit. I 
 am ashamed of my compliance." 
 
t( 
 
 Revelations. ,qj 
 
 'my dearest, was it not an evidence of his love that 
 
 "No, ho has novcr loved mc. It is „„!„ „ churlish 
 jcalcsy that would shut n>o up i„ a harom hk a T ^ 
 w, and part „,o from tho fried I like best iu the v„ d_ 
 with the purest platoTiio aileotion." woua- 
 
 "Hyacinth don't bo angry with me for being outof the 
 fasluon ; but mdeed I cannot think it right for a w^" 
 
 |._^ca. for the company 0, any other ^.an hut ler 
 
 "And my husband is so entertaining ! Sureanywoman 
 might be eon ent with such gay companv-such IXs 
 of w,t-»uch hght raillery!" cried Ilyaeiith self l" 
 walkmg up and down the room, plucking at the "" upon 
 her sleeves w th restless hands, her bolm hoa ingTe; 
 yes steel.br.ght with anger. " Since his sickness ll"f L r 
 he ha been the .mage of melancholy ; he has held hims If 
 aloof from me as if I had had the pestilence. I wa e„„ 
 tent that ,t should be so. I had my children and you and 
 one who loved me better, in his light way, than any" f y « 
 -and I eould do without Lord Farcham, But now he 
 forbids me to see an old friend that is d.,ngerously in Ind 
 
 Zly^Zl" ' ■■" "^^""^ -""^ '"ohellioV^aiCt 
 It was in the early dusk, an hour or so after dinner 
 The servants had lighted clusters of wax candles in "1; 
 coneeshere and there against the tapestried walls but 
 
 lofy gallery. Many mere candles would be lighted bf 
 and by. and visitors would drop in on their way to or from 
 Whitehall, and those scandals from which Farel,.am h™ 
 tried to guard iiis wife's ears and mind would be diZstd 
 m undertones and whispers, with much airy la, Iter 
 Visitors came in, and Hyacinth had to affect pleasu e in 
 
 • ^ 
 
 l! 
 
' %. 
 
 
 302 When The World Was rninfrcr. 
 
 tlu'ir company in spite of the dull aching heart and tho 
 fueling that life was hateful. 
 
 Angola sat silent in tho shadow of a hay window, quite 
 as hcavy-hoartod as her sister— sorry for Hyacinth, hut 
 still sorrier for Ilyac'nth's husband, yet feeling that there 
 was treachery and U]il<iiultu>s8 in making him first in her 
 thoughts. But surely, surely ho deserved a hotter wife 
 than this ! Surely ho deserved a wife's love— this man 
 who stood alone ; inong tho men she know, hating all evil 
 things, honoring all things good and nohlo ! He had been 
 unkind to her— cold and cruel— since that fatal night. He 
 had lot her understand that all friendship between thorn 
 was at an end forever, and that she had become despicable 
 in his sight ; and she had sul)mitted to bo scorned by him, 
 since it was impossible that she should clear herself. She 
 had made her sisterly sacrifice for a sister who regarded it 
 very lightly ; to whose light fancy that night and all it in- 
 volved counted but as a scene in a comedy ; and she could 
 not unmake it. But having so sacrificed his good opinion 
 whose esteem she valued, she wanted to see some happy 
 result to save this splendid home from shipwreck. 
 ^ Suddenly, with a passionate impulse, she went to her 
 sister, ana put her arms around her and kissed her. 
 
 '' Hyacinth, you shall not continue in this folly," she 
 cried, "to fret for that shallow idler, whr,-;o love is lighter 
 than thistledown, whose element is tho ruelle of one of 
 those libertine French duchesses he is over talking about. 
 To rebel against the noblest gentleman in England ! Oh, 
 sister, you muH know him better than I do ; and yet I, who 
 am nothing tc ''nL, am wretched when I see him ill used. 
 Indeed, Hyacin .. ;.;,. arc acting like a wicked Avife. You 
 should never huT.^ vi.'iod to see Do Malfort again, after 
 tho peril of that ra^hi. You sJvjuld have known that he 
 had no esteem for you, that he was a traitor— that his de- 
 sign was the wickedest, cruellest " 
 
ttfllW*^ 
 
 Revelations. -q- 
 
 "I don't prof,ona to know a man's mind as woll U8 you 
 -noithor )o MaMort's nor n.y husband's. Yot. Imvo 
 needed but tlio exporienco of a year to nuiko you wiso 
 enough in the world's ways to instruct your oI.I.ts I am 
 no ,;oing to bo preached to-hark-" she cried, runnin'^ 
 to the nearest window, and looking out at the river, - thai 
 18 better than your sermons." 
 
 It w,is the sound of fuhlles playing the symphony of a 
 song she knew well, one of De Malforfs, a French chan- 
 son, her latest favorite, the words adapted from a little 
 poem by Virture. 
 
 She opened the casement, and Angela stood beside her 
 looking down at a boat in which several nu.mcd flexures 
 were Seated, and which was moored to tlie terrace waU 
 
 There were three violins and a cello, two singing boys 
 with fair young faces smiling in the light of the 'lamps 
 that hung in front of Fareham's house. 
 
 The evening was still, and mild as early autumn, and 
 the plash of oars passing up and down the river sounded 
 like a part of the music—- 
 
 " Love in lier sunny pyea dofis baskini? play, 
 Love walks the pleasant mazes of her Imlr 
 
 Love does on both her lips for ever stray, ' 
 And sows and reaps a thousand kisses 'there • 
 
 In all her outward parts love's always seen • ' 
 But, oh, he never went within." ' 
 
 It was a song of Cowley's, which De Malfort had lately 
 admrrer''"' '''''^ *"" ^ "''^'''^^ ''^"'^' Hyacinth especially 
 
 "A serenade! Only De Malfort could have thought 
 of such a thing Lying iH and alone, lie sends me the 
 sweetest token of his regard-my favorite air. iiis own .ot- 
 tmg-the last song I ever heard him sing. And you won- 
 der that I value so pure, so disinterested a love," protested 
 
^mm 
 
 ^F 
 
 1 ( 
 
 m 
 
 ^m 
 
 304 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 Hyacinth to her sister, in the silence at tlie end of the 
 song. "^" 
 
 "Sing agciiu, sweet boys, sing again," sJie cried, snatch- 
 
 aim nto the boa . It ]„t one of the fiddlers on the head, 
 and there was a laugh, and in a trice the largesse was di! 
 vided and pocketed. 
 
 "They are from his majesty^s choir; I know their 
 voices, said Ilyacmth ; "so fresh, and pure. They are 
 tlie prettiest singers in the chapel. That little monkey 
 with the cherub's voice is Purcell-Dr. Blow's favorite 
 pupil— and a rare genius." 
 
 They sang another song from De Malfort's repertoire 
 an Italian serenade, which Hyacinth had heard in the 
 brilliant days before her marriage, when the Italian Opera 
 was still a new thing in Paris. The melody brought back 
 the^memory of her happy girlhood with a rush of sudden 
 
 The little concert lasted for something less than an hour 
 with intervals of light music, dances and marches, between 
 the smgmg. Boats passed and repassed. Strange voices 
 joined in a refrain now and then, and the sisters stood at 
 the open window enthralled by the charm of the music 
 
 and Sir Matthew Hale and other judges were sitting a^ 
 Clifford s Inn to decide questions of title and boundary, 
 and the obligation to rebuild; but here in this western 
 London there were long ranges of lighted windows shin- 
 ing through the wintry mists, wherries passing up and 
 down with lanterns at their prows, an air of life and 
 gaiety hangmg over all tliat river whicli had carried many 
 
 twfl"5 ': ^"' '"'"^ "^'^"" '^'''' 'y'^'P'^'^ -alls, 
 where the four towers stood black against the starlit gray^ 
 ness, unscathed by fire, and untouched by time 
 Angela often thought of those great" spirits who had 
 
Revelations. „, 
 
 passed under her windows on tl.at short voyage to a trai 
 tor's grave-oftenest of all she thought of the storn strong 
 Yorksh,reman born for autooratic rule, a despot by"^ 
 
 tween the Tower and the senate house, through the wea,T 
 complexities of half a year, flghting for his lifet as lUanoI 
 fongirt afterwards for life and liberty, and aga nst as crue 
 odds, envied, admn-ed, hated with the fcrce hate t^f 
 
 The last notes of a good-niglit mug dwindled and dJp^ 
 to the accompaniment of dipping ours as tho hn f J 
 s^wly alongthe tideway, J\JZi H^^^Zls 
 jovial cits going eastward, from an afternoon «/ 1 v ^ 
 theater, modish gallants voyagingteZ ^^^^^^ 
 house or tavern, some going home to domesti ty ofl ers" 
 intent upon pleasure and intri^no as tho .u.i 
 down and fhp li^n. f '^'i^i^t, as tlie darkness came 
 
 " 7, ., ^ ^^ ™'™» """ reeked of wine-whn 
 
 dTd' WnTin Z' " 1 "r """'-""'' """"■" "»"»be«d 
 dead lying in the pest pits yonder, or the eity in ruins or 
 
 the king enslaved to a foreign power an,! nWl ' , !' 
 hated ehnreh,-L„ndon, gay. splei' .alter' f^ *:„! 
 
 queen.eityoftheworldassIieseemedtotlios?Xwed'he 
 -could rise glorious from the ashe, of a fire mina,^, wi 
 in modern history, and to Charles and Wr „ i m " b 
 g.ven fo realize a boaat which in AngustnsTad 1^5^^: 
 
 I J 
 
3o6 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 more than an imperial phrase ? Were but Parliament 
 accommodating, king and architect could leave broad 
 streets and stone churches where they had found winding 
 lanes and narrow alleys of wood and plaster ; mansions 
 instead of hovels, pillared and pcdimented markets instead 
 of hucksters' stalls ; sky-pointing spires and pinnacles, a 
 dome inferior only to Florence and Rome, and finer placed 
 than either, since even the wide spaces, the colonades and 
 fountains in front of St. Peter's can scarce vie in pictur- 
 esque effect with the sharp ascent of Ludgate Hill and the 
 dominant position of St. Paul's us seen from every point 
 along the river. 
 
 K,\\ 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 DIDO. 
 
 The armed neutrality between man and wife continued, 
 and the domestic sky at Fareham House was dark and de- 
 pressing. Lady Fareham, who had hitherto been remark- 
 able for a girlish amiability of speech which went well with 
 her girlish beauty, became now the height of the mode for 
 acidity and slander. The worst of the evil speakers on her 
 ladysliip's visiting day flavored the China tea with no 
 bitterer allusions than those that fell from the rosy lips of 
 the hostess. And, for the coloring of those lips, which 
 once owed their vermeil tint only to nature, Lady Fare- 
 ham was now dependent upon Mrs. Lewin, as well as for 
 the carnation of cheeks that looked pallid and sunken in 
 the glass which reflected the sad morning face. 
 
 Mrs. Lewin brought roses and lilies in her queer little 
 china pots, and powder boxes, pencils and brushes, perfumes 
 and washes without number. It cost as much to keep a 
 
Dido. 
 
 307 
 
 ma,„e-s hcao, .Uornatoly potted Jd L^l tt flCw' 
 tor hostess, as tl,o fit took l,cr, siuce sho showed hersolf'eve' 
 tto chamehon brood, and hov.rod betwixt ""g a .d 
 dcvl. II s surgeon toM him in eoniidonee that wh!n one. 
 h.. wound was healod enough to aliow his removal tl„ 
 
 beto, h,s chance of a speedy eomaiescenee. So at tlie 
 end of the second week, he was n,oved in a covered littr 
 to h,s own lodgings, where his faithful valet ^,„ 1° 
 followed his fortunes since he came to mi, '1^,7 
 quite capable of nursing him. '''""' *"' 
 
 The town soon discovered the broach between Lord 
 Farehamand his friond-a breach commented upon w^h 
 mny shoulder shrugs, and not a few coarse inremoc 
 
 the sick man's room, in the teeth of messages thionglf his 
 jalet, which, even to a less intelligent mind than Indv 
 
 wanted. She flnng herself on her knees by Do Malfort's 
 
 theCwT htre,™"' "' ""' """'""-^ '^'"<=" '' '' ' 
 mo woud of his charming company— and herself of tl,„ 
 
 only man she had ever loved. De^AIalftt fevfre/ " d 
 
 vexed a her intrusion, and this renewal of fires on. b,,™ 
 
 ont, had yet discretion enough to threaten ho with 
 
 dire displeasure, if she betrayed the secret of his ime t 
 
 said '<F "™t' """«"'""' »"" "— " '» -k" "l.e 
 «aid. Except servants, who have been paid to keep close 
 
 yon are the only other witness of our quarrel ; and « tS 
 
 rtory becomes town talk, I shall know whose b,"y t^, g 
 
 rl 
 
''i ' 
 
 308 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 set it going— and then— well, there are things I might 
 tell tliat your ladyship would hardly like the public to 
 know." 
 
 " Traitor ! If your purse has accommodated me once in 
 a way when luck has been adverse " 
 
 " Oh, madam, you cannot think me base enough to 
 blab of a money-transaction with a lady. There are secrets 
 more tender — more romantic." 
 
 " Those secrets can he easily denied, wretch. However, 
 I know you would not injure me with a husband so odious 
 and tyrannical that I stood excused in advance for incon- 
 stancy when I stooped to wed country manners and stub- 
 born ignorance. Indeed, mon ami, if you will but take 
 pains to recover, I will never breathe a word about the 
 duel ; but if— if— " a sob stood in place of half a sentence 
 — " I will do all that a weak woman can do to get Fareham 
 hanged for murder. There has never been a peer hanged 
 in England, I believe. He should be the first." 
 
 *' Dear soul, there need be no hanging ! I have been on 
 the mending hand for a week, or my doctors would not 
 have let you upstairs. There, go, my pretty Lucrece, but 
 if your milliner or your shoemaker is pressing, there are a 
 few jacobuses in the right hand drawer of yonder secretaire, 
 and you may as well take them as leave them for my valet 
 to steal. He is one of those excellent old servants who 
 makes no distinction, and robs me as freely as he robbed 
 my father before me." 
 
 " Mrs. Lewin is always pressing," sighed Lady Lucre- 
 tia. " She made me a gown like that of Lady Fareham's, 
 for which you were all eyes. I ordered the brocade to please 
 you ; and now I am wearing it when you are not at Whitehall. 
 "Well, as you are so kind, I will be your debtor for another 
 trifling loan. It is wicked to leave money where it tempts 
 a good servant to dishonesty. Ah, Henri," she was pocket- 
 ing the gold as she talked, '< if ten years of my life could 
 
Dido. 
 
 309 
 
 ''All, douce, if there were a market for the exchan^rp of 
 uch commodities, what a roaring trade wouM be lone 
 there. I never loved a woman yet but sheX ed me her 
 life, or an instalment of it." ^^^ 
 
 ^ ;' I have emptied your drawer,- laughing covlv " Tbpr. 
 isjust enough to keep Lewin in good iLoriillyoua 
 well again and we can be partners at basset." ^ 
 
 It wil be very long before I play basset in London." 
 Oh but indeed you will soon be well." 
 Well enough to change the scene T bono t^ 
 
 long to be at the Louvre again, to see a play by Molit^re's 
 company, as only they can act, instead of the loattol 
 translations we get here, in which all that there TsoT^t 
 and charm in the ori<^inal is trin.Tn,.<-n.i T ^ 
 
 vnlfTflritv wi. " 1 '"'^^ s transmuted to coarseness and 
 vulgarity. When I leave this bed, Lucrece, it will be for 
 
 auZ J^;!;!" '' '''' '^^^^^ ^°^ -^ «^-^ -ough for 
 "Oh, I will risk that. I hate London so badlv that 
 to escape from it will wo.k a miraculous cure for me " 
 
 ^ An armed neutrality. Even the children felt the change 
 
 m the atmosphere of home, and nestled clos r to thel 
 
 aunt, who never changed to them. 
 "Father mostly looks angry," Ilenriette complained 
 
 "and mother is always unhappy, if s,e is noHau"^ ^ 
 and talking m the midst of the company ; and neith of 
 
 hem ever seems to want me. I wish I we're grown ^ so 
 that I could be maid of honor to the queen orthoLT 
 and live at Whitehall. Mademoiselle' tol ml tfh"^ 
 13 always life and pleasure at court " 
 " Your father does not love the court, dearest, and made- 
 
 1^* : 
 
. T/^ 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 moiselle should bo >viser than to talk to you of such things 
 tuvT" '' ^"^ ^'"""^ ^""^ "^^""'"'^ ^""^ ^''^"^^ ^^*^^^- 
 
 "Mademoiselle "was a governess lately imported from 
 Paris recommended by Mademoiselle Scudery, and full of 
 high-flown Ideas expressed in high-flown language. All 
 Pans had laughed at Moliere's Precieuses Ridicules : but 
 the Precieuses themselves, and their friends, protested 
 that the popular farce was aimed only at the vulgar, low- 
 born imitators of those great ladies who had originated the 
 school of superfine culture and romantic aspirations. 
 
 " Sapho - herself, in tracing her own portrait with a 
 careful and elaborate pencil, told the world how shamefully 
 She had been imitated by the spurious middle-class Saphos 
 who set up their salons, and died with the sacred house of 
 Kambouillet, and tb privileged coterie of the Eue du 
 Temple. 
 
 Lady Fareham had not ceased to believe in her dear 
 plain, witty Scudery, and was delighted to secure a gover' 
 ness of her choosing, whereby Papillon, who loved freedom 
 and idleness, and hated lessons of all kinds, was set down 
 to write themes upon chivalry, politeness, benevolence, 
 pride, war, and other abstractions ; or to fill in boutes 
 rimes by way of enlarging her acquaintance with the 
 French language, which she had chattered freely all her 
 hfe. Mademoiselle insisted upon all the niceties of phra- 
 seology as discussed in the Rue Saint Thomas du Louvre 
 
 There had been a change of late in Fareham's manner 
 to Ins sister-in-law, a change ref resiling to her troubled spirit 
 as niercy, that gentle dew from heaven to the criminal 
 He had been kinder, and though he spent very few of 
 his hours with the women of his household, he had talked 
 to Angela somewhat in the friendly tone of those fondly 
 remembered days at Chilton, when he had taught her to row 
 ftndnde.to manage a spirited palfrcj and fly a falcon, and 
 
Biclo. 
 
 311 
 
 I- op;Testtif^^ -,^ f-nd. He seeded 
 
 fits still, and after brrki'n^'"^'^"'^^"^^" 
 sister, and playful with h Li m '°"'*«0"« *« wife and 
 suddenly, and return no mo:f; ,!"' T'^ ^^^^'^ *^-- 
 room that evenin.. Yet oH 1 f' f ^'°" °^ ^^'^^"^g- 
 
 or hysterics. ^^P^^ssion to suffer without swooning 
 
 I^ady Sarah Tewkeshnrv „ 
 
 entered fussily „p„„ a S ./ " '""™"»°<i, 
 
 vaporing aboul thfLrp t^an ™ 1 V't* ^''™»"' 
 was the principal figure '^'"°™™'"' "' «« king's theater, 
 
 »aM7:'mt;:^e:trLr„:st^^°''? "T "'"■°«- '- '- 
 
 aa round as a cart-„hecr,v^.,Tv ' h"' °" '""' "'' "'"•S'' »<> 
 " The hat ? " vastly amused his majesty." 
 
 "Way, it was woman and hat Tl,„ ii,- . 
 might have been scareo ZT'a """^ '' ^ "mall it 
 
 !'»» a pretty little ZiZZT "'"'""'* "'* '""' but it 
 
 »g suddenly, and the eyes shine out t !y ""''" '""K''" 
 mg like stars reflected in r„ ' ' *'vinklmg and danc- 
 
 'ittle foot upon the sta:;,r:'? ™""-' "?«' " ^''""P^ "^ 
 vorrons. It sold ora, »s in tl 3'?,r™"-''"'^-"»>- 
 ago. It may be selling's -ecures ^d ^ ■'°" ■"^' " ^""^ 
 
 "Is it that brazen little rnnipri.7 -, t. 
 
312 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 changed curtsies witli the ladies of the company, and 
 established herself on the most comfortable tabouret, near 
 Lady Fareham's tea-table ; " Mrs. Glyn— Wynn— Gwyn ? 
 I wonder a man of wit can notice such a vulgar creature, 
 a she-jack pudden, fit only to please the rabble in the 
 gallery." 
 
 " Ay, but there is a finer sort of rabble— a raoble ^f 
 quality— beginning with his majesty, that are always 
 pleased with anything now. And this little creature is as 
 fresh as a spring morning. To see her laugh, to hear the 
 ring of it, clear and sweet as a skylark's song. On my life, 
 madam, the town has a new toy, and Mrs. Gwyn will be 
 the rage in high quarters. You should have seen Castle- 
 maine's scowl when Eowley laughed, and ducked under 
 the box almost in an ecstasy of amusement at the huge 
 hat." 
 
 " Lady Castlemaine's brow would thunder-cloud if his 
 majesty looked at a fly on a window-pane. But she has 
 something else to provoke her froAvns to-day." 
 
 " What is that, chore dame ? " asked Hyacinth, snatching 
 a favorite fan from Sir Ralph, who was teasing one of the 
 Blenheims with African feathers that were almost priceless. 
 
 " The desertion of an old friend. The Comte de Mal- 
 fort has left England." 
 
 Lady Fareham turned livid under her rouge. Angela 
 ran to her and leant over her upon a pretense of rescuing 
 the fan, and chiding the dogs; and so contrived to screen 
 her sister's change of complexion from the malignity of 
 her dearest friends. 
 
 " Left England ! Why, he is confined to his bed with a 
 fever ! " Hyacinth said faintly ; when she had somewhat 
 recovered from the shock. 
 
 " Nay, it seems that ho began to go abroad last week, 
 but would see no company, except a confidential friend or 
 so. He left London this morning for Dover." 
 
Dido. 
 
 o»«^ltJlA;:;: :;,tn;;; ^p-'^y- ">-!'; 
 
 court/- a„i,, iTyaeint,, I 1 1 L" °', '"■l""-tonoe at the 
 »g"m in a month." " '"' """ '» iu London 
 
 "notion next week. I sawl hil . '™ ," *° '"= '"W V 
 oome too exacting »" ' Castlemaino had be- 
 
 than she is to ether men "' " '"'" '" '"» more 
 
 bod/SS' STaoiS fT.f ""' """ "'» --.- 
 ««.m like a child, nn, ers a^inf T'' ^'""'« "™«ng 
 "-d »'.r„gs, the malieo totw ^K •'°, ','« "' """•■■ «">»<=» 
 She sat among them ToZJ aXTT""'" »' glances, 
 to .tone. He had left the ol," rl t'^ ? ""^ "'■■'"'d 
 her farewell-her faithfuTsl"" /.^ '","'"' """^ Adding 
 counted a, surely aa up„„ t S, 'fo?,!''"^^ "-"«» *f 
 lier husband might do to ,en, ? f ^ *""• ^V'hatever 
 
 her girlhood. she^>,,dfea"e7rdeV'r '""" '""' '""'"^ "i 
 P«t- ire would alwa™br„tr IT""?" ""''"""rt's 
 
 watching for the happii dlf hat w '"'; "'""^ »* 
 thor mnoeent loves. She hL ""l''""' '° ™"o upon 
 luring hi, illness. Good Mr r e .'",*" '"'" """^y % 
 to him, and had brought her ,"'" 'f "*^" *» letters 
 written so often, or at sneh lenlth !'"'• "" '"«' »ot 
 the languor of eonvale ee , M '"! '''*''""' '"^ P>™ded 
 bWlets doux had been in the same d-''^ '"'* "" hfa 
 language of the Pays du Tendre Sb""°? ''^I"""""''- the 
 visitors talked about him Zck'iJ "'"'" ''bile her 
 
 'e»--ly as a kitchen wen^h ^ i * " '■-I'"t'*tion as merei- 
 
 Ho had left the co^nl; dee^p' * ,V"t^ '"' "^ ^™- 
 
 yaoepmdebt. It was his landlord 
 
 :(:. 
 
m 
 
 
 .i|j i' 
 
 ill: 
 
 I 
 
 !i 
 
 
 L^I-^Iijja.1 
 
 314 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 who had stuck up tliat notice of a sale by auction. Tailors 
 and shoemakers, perruquiers and perfumers were bewailing 
 his flight. 
 
 So much for tho sordid side of things. But what of 
 those numerous affairs of tlio lieart— those entanglements 
 which had made his life one long intrigue ? Lady Sarah 
 sat simpering and nodding as Masaroon whispered close 
 in her ear. 
 
 " Barbara ? Oh, that was almost as old as the story of 
 Antony and Cleopatra. She had paid his debts— and he 
 had paid hers. Tlieir purse hud boon in common. And 
 the handsome maid of honor ? Ah, poor silly soul ! 
 That was a horrid ugly business, and his majesty's part 
 in it the horridest. And Mrs. Levington, the rich silk 
 mercer's wife ? That was a serious attachment. Tt was 
 said the husband had attempted poison when Do S^^'fJort 
 refused the satisfaction of a gentleman. And the poor 
 woman was sent to die of ennui and rheumatism in a castle 
 among the Irish bogs, where her citizen husband had set 
 np as a landed squire." 
 
 The fine company discussed all these foul stories with 
 gusto, insinuating much more than they expressed in 
 words. Never until to-day had they spoken so freely of 
 De Malfort in Lady Fareham's presence ; but the story 
 had got about of a breach between Hyacinth and her 
 admirer, and it was supposed that any abuse of the de- 
 faulter would be pleasant in her ears. And then, he was 
 ruined and gone ; and there is no vulture's feast sweeter 
 than to banquet upon a departed rival's character. 
 
 Hyacinth listened in a dull silence, as if her sensations 
 were suddenly benumbed. She felt nothing but a horrible 
 surprise. Her lover— her platonic lover— that other half 
 of her mind and her heart— with whom she had been in such 
 tender sympathy, in unison of spirit so subtle that the 
 game thoughts sprung up simultaneously in the mindg pf 
 
Dido. 
 
 315 
 
 each, tho samo lanffiiuffo loanf fn +1, • v 
 
 lH"KhedtomuUhoirwor,l„Z in , '"' "'"' "'"y 
 low woman's shallow kvo-S t ;riv """' °"'J' ""'"'1- 
 
 for trivial minds • a„,l„l, i "' """^ "'" ^^''g^-Aks 
 
 «wa,, dispo™:;' Settu; ^ifrrot?™';':'!^---*"! 
 =s»a.^:;uVurt':r^::L^n ,f : ?'•--'- 
 
 reprobate they w„„l<l make hT Y^wt, " "''','''° 
 near y all vourlifo v,^„ u [ ^ ^" "'^vo known Inm 
 
 by th^ idl'S otthe to^n.'' """" '°°'™" '°° '•"^'-'™ 
 "No, no; I have never known him TTo T,o. i 
 
 with yo„r"Ss::t;a tl ;"s.'"'?„rr'' 7 ""■-" "°"""^ 
 
 Ilowcan yonnnderstand th soO™' ^I'i^t l™, "" '"'^ 
 
 "e^eStrttxf:^^?^^^^^^ 
 
 Honri had m; heart W o k '.t ,h"2'°™", "i™- 
 meant; and in all the«. v„,.. T f """^ '°™ 
 
 with tie pnrest no le Iffecti™ TlT", °""" °"'"' 
 believe my love was reeiproS SI'T , "e^ "t""" 
 m-t cxqnisite c„,nmunion of thought and Linr'n' 
 Ietters-yo„ shall read his letters sLe a'y-tZufl 
 
 « . 
 
lidLlili 
 
 316 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 brilliant, all poetry, and chivalry, and wit. I lived upon 
 his letters when futo parted ns. And when ho followed us 
 to England, I thought it was for my sake that ho came— 
 only for mo. And to hear that ho was her lover— hers— 
 that woman ! To know that ho camo to me— with sweetest 
 words upon his lips— knelt to kiss tho tips of my fingers— 
 as if it wore a privilege to dio for— from her arms, from 
 her caresses — tho wickedest woman in England— and tho 
 loveliest.'* 
 
 " Dear Hyacinth, it was a childish dream !— and you have 
 awakened ! You will live to bo glad of being recalled from 
 falsehood to truth. Your husband is Avorth fifty Do Mal- 
 forts, did you but know it. Oh, dearest, give your heart to 
 him who ought to be its only master. Indeed ho is worthy. 
 He stands ajjart— an honorable, noble thinking man in a 
 world that is full of libertines. Indeed ho deserves your 
 love.'' 
 
 ''Don't preach to me, child. If you could give mo a 
 sleeping draught that would blot out memory for ever— 
 mako me forget my childhood in tho Marais— my youth at 
 Saint Germain — tlio dames at the Louvre — all the days 
 when I was tho happiest why, then, perhaps, you might 
 make mo in love v/itli Lord Fareham." 
 
 *'You will begin a new life, sister, now Do Malfort is 
 gone." 
 
 ''I will never forgive him for going," cried Hyacinth, 
 passionately. " IS' ever— never. To give me no note of 
 warning ! To sneak away like a thief who had stolen my 
 diamonds. To fly for debts, too, and not come to me for 
 money. Why have I a fortune, if not to help those I love ? 
 But — if he was that woman's lover — I will never see his face 
 again — never speak his name — never— from the moment I 
 am convinced of that hellish treason— never ! Her lover ! 
 Lady Castlemaino's ! We have laughed at her, together ! 
 Her lover I And there were other women— a tradesman's 
 
 WMj ■' '. ■ . ■■ ,'* 
 
Dido. 
 
 317 
 
 wifo ! 01. how hafcoful, Low hateful it ull i«. Anirok If 
 
 It 18 true, I shall go mud," ^°'"' '' 
 
 " Dearest, to you ho wu« but a friond-antl thou-h von 
 
 in tho rmned abbey, I let bim kiss ...e Yes f, " ,' 
 
 Ami bo bad k>»,l bcr-tbo same nigbt perbaps. Tbe not 
 lutwn of li„r kiss was on bis lins Ami i/w„. , "^f, 
 »avea me-dear sister. I owe y„„ lore1, 1'^ rJ;;;,!!;: 
 have given myself to everlasting sbame tlmt ni.ht-Ood 
 knows. Iwasinbispower-berlover-iud.l,,, n 
 perhaps, byl,isknowIedgeoftln.t—"'Tfeni'rT°';' 
 closed the sentence w,. m,t a word for a womt'Tlt • ttt 
 was wrung from the soreness of a woman's wonnded' bear 
 Jyacmth ftang berself distractedly into her sS; 
 
 "You saved me," she cried hysterieally. " He wanted 
 me to goto Dover with him-back to ^^00-'™ to 
 were so happy. H„ knelt to me and I refused hm Zl 
 
 rescue me, should I have gone on saying no ? God know. If 
 my coun.ge would have held out. There were t™ in h 
 eyes He swore that ho had never loved any one Z thL 
 earth as he loved me. Hypocrite ! DeceLr, liar n„ 
 loved tljat woman. Twenty times handsomer thrver I 
 w^-a hundred times more wicked. It is the wicked women 
 that are best loved, Angela, remember that. Oh, bles" von 
 for coming to save me. You saved Pareham's if XS 
 ^ague year. You saved me from everlasting mety 
 lou are our gnardian angel." ^ 
 
 thllfam'™^ " '"™ "°"'^ S""^-^ ^» I -i«''t deserve 
 
 ,.!< 
 
3i8 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 It was late in the same evening that Lady Fareham's maid 
 came to her bedchamber to inquire if she would be pleased 
 to see Mrs. Lewin, who had brought a pattern of a new 
 French bodice, with her humble apologies for waiting on 
 her ladyship so late. 
 
 Her ladyship would see Mrs. Lewin. She started up 
 from the sofa where she had been lying, her forehead 
 bound with a handkerchief steeped in Hungary water. 
 She was all excitement. 
 
 " Bring her here instantly," she said, and the interval 
 necessary to conduct the milliner up the grand staircase 
 and along tJie gallery seemed an age to Hyacinth's im- 
 patience, i 
 
 " Well ? Have you a letter for me ? " she asked, when 
 her woman had retired, and Mrs. Lewin had bustled and 
 curtsied across the room. 
 
 " In truly, my lady ; and I have to ask your ladyship's 
 pardon for not bringing it early this morning, when his 
 honor gave it to me with his own hand out of his traveling 
 carriage. And very white and wasted he looked, dear 
 gentleman, not fit for a voyage to France in this severe 
 weather. And I was to carry you his letter immediately ; 
 but, eh, gud ! your ladyship, there was never such a busi- 
 ness as mine for surprises. I was putting on my cloak to 
 step out with your ladyship's letter, when a chair, with a 
 footman in the royal undress livery, sets down at my door, 
 and one of the duchess's women had come to fetch me to 
 her highness ; and there I was kept in her highness's 
 chamber half the morning, disputing over a paduaso}' for 
 the Shrove Tuesday masquerade— for her highness gets 
 somewhat bulky and is not easy to dress to her advantage 
 or to my credit— though she is a beauty compared with 
 the queen, who still hankers after her hideous Portuguese 
 fashions " 
 
 " And employs your rival, Madame Marifleur- 
 
 » 
 
Dido. 
 
 319 
 
 "Marifleur! If your ladyship knew the creature as 
 well as I do, you'd call her Sally Cramp.- 
 
 " I never can remember a low English name. Marifleur 
 seems to promise all that there is of the most graceful and 
 airy in a ruffled sleeve and a ribbon shouldor-knot ' 
 
 " I am glad to see your ladyship is in such good spirits " 
 Baid the milhner, wondering at Lady Fareham'sflu hed 
 cheeks and brilliant eyes. ^^ubnta 
 
 They were brilliant with a somewhat glassy brightness 
 and there was a touch of hysteria in her mLer^ S 
 Lewin thought she had been drinking. Many of her cus 
 omers ended that way-took to cogtac and'atfirwl" 
 choicer pleasures were exhausted and wrinkles began to 
 show through their paint. ^ 
 
 Hyacinth was reading De Malfort's letter as she talked 
 moving about the room a little, and then stopp ng in 
 fn>nt of the fireplace, where the light from two' c lufters 
 of^wax candles shone down upon the finely written 
 
 Mrs. Lewin watched her for a few minutes, and then 
 produced some pieces of silk out of her muff 
 
 J'llv^^^-n ^""^^-'^^^ ^>nng your ladyship i^ome patterns 
 of Italian silks, which only came to hand this morninr' 
 she said. ;'There is a cherry-red that would home 
 your ladyship to the T." "ecome 
 
 m^ttlZ^ ''"' ''''' "^ ^^""^'^* ^^^^^— <^ g-d- 
 _ '' But sure your ladyship will look at the color ? There 
 
 18 apattern of amber with gold thread might please you bet! 
 
 ter Lady Castlemaine has ordered a court mantua - 
 
 Lady Pareham rang her hand-bell with a vehemence 
 that suggested anger. 
 
 "Show Mrs. Lewin to her coach," she said shortly 
 when her woman appeared. - When you have done thai 
 you may go to bed ; I M^ant nothing more to-night " 
 
 

 J. ■' 
 
 'V.i 
 
 320 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 ''Mrs Kirkland has been asking to see your ladyship/' 
 
 I wil see no one to-night. Tell Mrs. Kirkland so, 
 
 with my love, ' 
 
 She ran to the door when maid and milliner were gone 
 and locked it, and then ran back to the fireplace, and flung 
 herself down upon the rug to read her letter. 
 
 ^ " Chcrie when this is handed to you, I shall be sitting 
 m my coach on the dull Dover road, with mud-splashed 
 windows and a heart heavier than your leaden skies. Loveli- 
 es of women, all things must end; and, despite your sweet 
 childhke trust in man's virtue, you could scarce hope for 
 eternity to a bond that was too strong for friendship and 
 too weak for love. Dearest, had you given yourself" that 
 claim upon love and honor which we have talked of and 
 which you have ever refused, no lesser power than death 
 should have parted us. I would have dared all, conquered 
 all, for my dear mistress. But you would not. It was not 
 for lack of fervid prayers that the statue remained a statue • 
 but a man cannot go on worshiping a statue forever. If 
 the Holy Mother did not sometimes vouchsafe a sio-n of 
 human feelings, even good Catholics would have left off 
 kneeling to her image. 
 
 " Or, shall I say, rather, that the child remains a child 
 -fresh, and pure, and innocent, and candid as in the davs 
 when we played our jeu de volant in your grandmother's 
 garden-fit emblem of the light love of our future years 
 You remained a child. Hyacinth, and asked childish love- 
 making from a man. Dearest, accept a cruel truth from 
 a man of the world-it is only the love you call guilty that 
 asts 1 here is a stimulus in sin and mystery that will fan 
 the flame of passion and keep love alive even for an inferior 
 object The ugly women know this, and make lax morals 
 a substitute for beauty. An innocent intrigue, a butterfly 
 affection like ours, will seldom outlive a summer. Indeed 
 
 1 ' 
 
Dido. 
 
 321 
 
 I sometimes admire myself as a marvel of constancy for 
 havmg kept faith so long M^ith a mistress who has rewarded 
 me so sparingly. yy<^i^vu 
 
 " So, my angel, I am leaving your foggv island mv 
 cramped London lodgings, and exVrtionate London trldZ 
 men, on whom I have squandered so much of my fortune 
 that hoy ought to forgive me for leaving a margin of debt, 
 which I hope to pay the extortioners hereafter for the 
 honor of my name. I doubt if I slmll ever revisit Eno-. 
 land I have tasted all London pleasures, till familiarity 
 has taken the taste out of them ; and thougli Paris may 
 be only London with a difference, that difference includes 
 bluer skies, brighter streets and gardens, and all the oriof. 
 na s of which you have here the copies. There at least, I 
 shall have the fashion of my peruke and mv speech at first 
 
 tire of it ^'°'' ''''^^ '''^''^^ "" "'""'^^ ''^'''" ^^"' ^"S"^' *« 
 " Farewell, then, dearest lady, but let it be no tragical or 
 eternal parting, since your fine house in the Ruede Tou- 
 rame will doubtless be honored with your presence some day. 
 rou have only to open a salon there in order to be the top 
 of the mode. Some really patrician milieu is needed to 
 replace the antique court of the dear old marquise, and to 
 ex inguish tlie Scudery, whose Saturdays gro v n^o e 
 vulgar every week. Yes, you will come to Paris, bring! 
 mg that human lily, Mrs. Angela, in your train; and 
 I promise to make you the fashion before your house 
 has been open a month. Tlie wits and court favor- 
 
 fnend, Madame de Longueville, has retired from a world 
 in which she was more queenly than the queen, you will 
 find Mademoiselle de Montpensier as faithful as ever to 
 mundane pleasures, and after having refused kings and 
 princes slavishly devoted to a Colonel of Dragoons, who 
 does not care a straw for her. 
 21 
 
ml 
 
 mi 
 
 IP 
 
 1 
 i » 
 
 i\ 
 
 :. 
 
 m 
 
 322 When The World Was Youngef. 
 
 " Louise de Bourbon, a woman who can head a revolt 
 and fire a cannon, would think no sacrifice too great for a 
 cold-hearted schemer like Lauzun— yet you who swore you 
 loved me, when the coach was waiting that would have car- 
 ried me to paradise, and made us one for all this life, could 
 suffer a foolish girl to separate us in the very moment 
 of tnumphant union. You were mine, Hyacinth ; heart 
 and mind were consenting, when your convent-bred sister 
 surprised us, and all my hopes of bliss expired in a sermon. 
 And now I can but say, with that rhymester, whom every- 
 body in London quotes, ' Love in your heart as idly burns, 
 as fire in antique Eoman urns." 
 
 "Good-bye, which means 'God be with you.' I know 
 not if the fear of Him was in your mind when you sacri- 
 ficed your lover to that icy abstraction women call virtue. 
 Th.e Eomans had but one virtue, which meant the courage 
 that dares ; and to me the highest type of woman would be 
 one whose bold spirit dared and defied the world for love's 
 sake. These are the women history remembers, and whom 
 the men who live after them worship. Cleopatra, Mary 
 Stuart, Diana of Poictiers, Marguerite of Valois, la Che- 
 vreuse, la Montibazon, did not become famous by keeping 
 their lovers at a distance. 
 **Go, lovely rose ! 
 
 " How often I have sung those lines, and you have list- 
 ened, and nothing has come of it, except time wasted- 
 beauty too choice to be kind ? Adieu ! 
 
 " De Malfobt." 
 
 Whc she had read these last words, she crumpled the 
 letter in her palm, clenching her fingers over it till the 
 nails wounded the delicate flesh ; and then she opened her 
 hand and employed herself in smoothing out the crumpled 
 paper, as if her life depended on making the letter read i Me 
 again. But her pains could not undo what her passion 
 
Dido. 
 
 323 
 
 passionate boating of her hit 1 Ta 7^"" ' '''° 
 clenched hands. ' °"''°'' ''™"'' ''" 
 
 wicked h„„se™feHt" :r:*r°rf"^'™" "■«'' 
 i^ehelrstti:^^^^^^^^ 
 
 and .ade a Jest „,";: to h ■ 'Cs J^T "l^ k" "T 
 
 bitinff raillery Anrl h. „ j^wiusemeut. I know his 
 
 Z: ?;;t" '7''- 'f -^^ as^Beanttt™ JJ^dt '^ 
 
 I 
 
 i.: 
 
i:i 
 
 324 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 herself his queen, his Beatrice, his Laura, his Stella— a 
 being to be admired as reverently as the stars, to make her 
 lover happy witli smiles and kindly words, to stand forever 
 a little way off, like a goddess in her temple, yet near 
 enough to be adored. 
 
 And fondly believing this to be her mission, havin<r 
 posed for the character, and filled it to her own fancy, she 
 found that she had only been a dissolute man^s dupe all 
 the time ; and no doubt had been the laughing-stock of 
 her acquaintances, who looked on at the game. 
 
 "And I was so proud of his devotion— I carried my slave 
 everywhere with me. Oh, fool, fool, fool ! " 
 ^ And then the poor little brains, being disordered by pas- 
 sionate regrets, wickedest ideas ran riot in the confusion 
 of a mind not wide enough to hold lifers large passions, 
 bhe began to be sorry that she was not like those other 
 women-to hate the modesty that had lost her a lover. 
 
 To be like Barbara Castlemaine ! That was woman^s 
 only royalty. To rule with sovereign po^er over the hearts 
 and senses of men. A king for her lover, constant in ^n- 
 constancy, always going back to her from every transient 
 fancy-hcr property, her chattel ; and the foremost wits 
 and dandies of the age for her servants, her court of ador- 
 ers, whom she ruled with frowns or smiles, as her humor 
 prompted. To be daring, profuse, reckless, tyrannical ; to 
 suffer no control of heaven or men— yes, that was, indeed 
 to be a queen ! And compared with such empire, the poor 
 authority of the Precieuse, dictating the choice of adjec 
 tives, condemning pronouns, theorizing upon feelings and 
 passions of which in practice she knows nothing, was a 
 thing for scornfullest laughter. 
 
Philaster. 
 
 32s 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 PHILASTER. 
 
 had deserted mZh7i7 Z' "'"V"^""^ "'"^ '»-''"°'> 
 business in London, while Si D n" w. , "" '""' 
 
 some special occasion, which made hnwl 1 , '^ ^"^ 
 
 Tirrr rr^ .„^;: :;-^ »„^^ -^^^ -d 
 
 Lady Fareham had an air of carina for ncitlmv fn 
 country but on the whole preforred fown ' " " "'' 
 London has become a positive desert— and ih. i 
 
 siiiiii 
 
 a..a .an, duets with Ang^eK " He w!, e^^t Hi „7S 
 . ace ,„ the cold bleak afternoon, and told hXe„c' 
 
 iitl^trLirpl tirtut"'' '""'""r ^"""'' "'o™ 
 ly J^dienarn, but the graver facts connected 
 
 ': ! 4'] 
 
m 
 
 m 
 
 111 
 
 326 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 with the state and tlio public welfare — the prospects of war 
 or peace, the outlook towards France and Spain, Holland 
 and Sweden, Andrew Marvel's last speech, or the last grant 
 to the king, who might bo relied on to oppose no popular 
 measure when his lieges were about to provide a handsome 
 subsidy or an increase of his revenue. 
 
 " We are winning our liberties from him," Denzil said ; 
 " for the mess of pottage we give, the money he squanders 
 on libertine pleasures, England is buying freedom. Yet 
 why, in the name of common sense, maintain this phantom 
 king, this court Avhich shocks and outrages every decent 
 Englishman's sense of right, and maintains an everwiden- 
 ing hotbed of corruption, so that habits and extrava- 
 gances once unknown beyond that focus of all vice, are now 
 spreading as fast as London ; and wherever there are bricks 
 and mortar there are profligacy and irreligion ? Can you 
 wonder that all the best and wisest in this city regret Crom- 
 well's iron rule, the rule of the strongest, and deplore that 
 so bold a stroke for liberty should have ended in such fool- 
 ish subservience to a king of whom we knew nothing when 
 we begged him to beconib and reign over us ? " 
 
 " But if you win liberty while he is king, if wise laws are 
 established " 
 
 " Yes ; but we might have been noble as well as free. 
 There is something so petty in our assumed bondage, 
 Figure to yourself a thoroughbred horse that had kicked 
 off the traces, and stood free upon the open plain with 
 arched neck and lifted nostrils, snijffing the morning air ! 
 and behold he creeps back to his harness, and makes him- 
 self again a slave ! We had done with the Stuarts, at the 
 cost of a tragedy, and in ten years we call them back again 
 and put on the old shackles ; and for common sense, relig- 
 ion, and freedom, we have the orgies of Whitehall, and the 
 extravagance of Lady Castlemaine. It will not last, An- 
 gela ; it cannot last. I was with his lordship in Artillery 
 
Philaster. 
 
 if wise laws are 
 
 327 
 
 Row last night, and we talked witli tl.n hUn,! o 
 try which ten years ago was at the pinnacle of power and 
 
 one church in all this vast London ^''Anfoutt\ ?^^ 
 nantly. ^"i^uon . Angela asked, indig- 
 
 "That was a revolt of doen flih,i'n,.c • ^ 
 
 ngKi_a repetition of vain phrase.,. Ull^ll: Tf^' 
 my neck beneath the Ohnroh's vnko Lt „ ° ''""' 
 
 wavm-bloodod errors of Zlov ratlL t , ^r" '"' ""^ 
 formalism of English episSp^;'.;.""'" """ "'» ''-^"^»» 
 "But what can vou or F-n'olmry. ^ j. 
 
 fooS^;s:\tTei rvr^n™ ,7,:: 7"^" °v""' 
 
 die on the soafloW OrZ Idvou fl f ^'""' '""^' 
 a^in; the nation divide. iroS\rm;r;igi-" 
 
 I ; 
 
 ,.i..'.i 
 

 1>I. 
 
 328 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 men fighting with Englishmen ? Can you forget that dread- 
 ful last year of the Rebellion ? I was only a little child ; 
 but it is branded deep on my memory. Can you forget 
 the murder of the king ? Ho was murdered ; let Mr. 
 Milton defend the deed as he can with his riches of big 
 words. I have wept over the royal martyr's own account 
 of his suilerings." 
 
 "Over Dr. Gauden's account, that is to say. ' Eikon 
 Basilike ' waa no more written by Charles than by Crom- 
 well. It was a doctored composition — a churchman's 
 spurious history, trumped up by Charles's friends and parti- 
 Bans, possibly with the approval of the king himsr>1f. It 
 is a fine piece of special' pleading in a bad cause.'* 
 
 " You make mo hate you when you talk so slightingly 
 of that so ill-used king. You will make me hate you more 
 if you lead Fareham into danger by underhand work 
 against the present king." 
 
 " Lies Fareham's safety so very near your he^ 't ? " 
 "It lies in my heart," she answered, looking at him, and 
 defying him with straight, clear gaze. "Is he not my 
 sister's husband, and to mo as a brother ? Do you expect 
 me to be careless about his fate ? I know you are leadin^^ 
 him into danger. Some evil must come of these visits to 
 Mr. Milton, a Republican outlaw, who has escaped the pen- 
 alty of his treasonous pamphlets only because he is blind 
 and old and poor. I doubt there is danger in all such 
 conferences. Fareham is at heart a Republican. It would 
 need little persuasion to make him a traitor to the king." 
 " You have it in your power to make me so much your 
 slave, that I would sacrifice every patriotic aspiration at 
 your bidding, Angela," Denzil answered gravely. "I 
 know not if this be the time to speak, or if, after waiting 
 more than a year, I may not even now be premature. 
 Dearest girl, you know that I love you— that I haunt tliis 
 house, only because you live here ; that I am in London 
 
wn account 
 
 Philastcr. 
 
 onb' because my star shines there; that above all public 
 n torests you rule „.y life. I have exorcisod a procH ous 
 
 .once onb because I have a prodigious resolution 
 It not ti me for me to reap my reward ? " 
 
 " Oh. Den.il, you fill me with sorrow ! Have I not s-iid 
 everything to discourage you : " ^ 
 
 -And have I not refused to be discouraged? An-^eh 
 am resolved to discover the reason of your coldness win 
 
 Jier lieait ? Il.slory has no record of such an one I am 
 of an appropriate age, of good birth and good n^els no 
 uneducated not brutish, or of repulsive Le a" dfiXr 
 If your heart is free I ought to be able to win it H "ou 
 wdl not favor my suit, it must be because there i sonfe one 
 
 my path, and to whom your heart has been secretly given - 
 
 lit li^mlnT ""/1-*^, pale as ho spoke. sVelod 
 before h mm the winter light, with her color changing 
 her hands tightly clasped, her eyes cast down, and t a^^ 
 trembling on the long dark lashes. 
 
 J' Yon have no right to question me. It is enouHi for 
 you to have my honest answer. I esteem you ; but I do 
 no love you ; and it distresses me when you talk of love " 
 
 There is sonie one else, then ! I knew it. There "is 
 ome one else. For me you are marble. You are fire for 
 Inm He is m your heart. You have said it." 
 
 How dare you " she began. 
 
 .er'''llif;!f/''"''f"" warning you of your dan- 
 ger It is Fareham you love. I have seen you tremblp 
 at his touch-start at the sound of his foctstep-tlat "1 
 you know so well. Ilis footstep ? Why, the^er^ ir he 
 breathes carries to you the consciousness of his apprlch 
 
 ^now. Jealous pangs have racked me, day after day • vet 
 Ibavohungon. I have been very patienl ^ She Lows 
 
 r I « 
 
rii 
 
 
 i 
 
 El ,1 
 El': I 
 
 M 
 
 330 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 not tho sinful inipulsos of her own hoiirt/ I suid, ' knows 
 not in her purity how near slio goes to u fall. Hero, in 
 her sister's house, j)assionately loved by her sister's hus- 
 band ! She calls him ' brother/ whoso eyes cannot look 
 at her without telling their story of wicked love. She 
 walks on tho edge of a precipice— self-deceived. Were I 
 to abandon her she might fall. My affection is her only 
 safeguard ; and not winning her to myself I shall snatch 
 her from tho pit of hell." 
 
 It was the truth lie was telling her. Yes ; oven when 
 he was harshest, she had been dimly conscious that love 
 was at the root of his imkindness. Tho coldness that had 
 held them apart since that midnight meeting had been ice 
 over fire. It was jealousy that had made him so angry. 
 No word of love, directly spoken, had ever offended \er 
 ear ; but there had been many a speech of double meaning 
 that had set her wondering and thinking. 
 
 And, oh ! the guilt of it, when an honorable man like 
 Denzil set her sin before her, in plain language. Slie stood 
 aghast at her own wickedness. That which had been a 
 sin of thought only, a secret sorrow, wrestled with in many 
 an hour of heartfelt prayer, with all the labor of a sonl 
 that sought heavenly aid against earthly temptauon, was 
 conjured into hideous reality by Denzil's plain speech. 
 To love her sister's husband, to suffer his guilty love, to 
 know gladness only in his company, to be exquisitely happy 
 were he but in the same room with her— to sink to pro- 
 foundest melancholy when he was absent. Oh, the sin of 
 it ! In what degree did her guilt differ from that of the 
 women of the court, who had each her open secret in some 
 base intrigue that all the world knew and laughed at ? 
 She had been kept aloof from that libertine crew; but 
 was she any better than they ? Was Fareham, who openly 
 
 scorned the royal dobaiinliop «^aq hp "nv 1— +^ +i-nT7 
 
 king ?' 
 
 LXIC 
 
 I 
 
Philastcr. 
 
 331 
 
 "Angola, bolievo mo, you aro rlriffiV^r h t ^ 
 peril,,,,, w,.tor,. Ut n,o I„f y„„ri„„ ' r™4. o,' "" ■ '" 
 
 w,ll g,vo t,m„ for bvo to g,.„,v. (,„„t „, ' u t 1,„ ,v,, 
 
 tog„„r,ly„„ ,™mtl,c ,la„gc.r of .„, unholy p, a 0,. Urn 
 
 18 always near you in this house." '^ "' 
 
 "You pretend to ho his lordshin's frin,„l j 
 
 speak slander of him." '"^^"p s friend, and you 
 
 "I am his friend. I could find it in my heart to „lt„ 
 him for lov hff you Indcn,! it , 1, ' P V 
 
 n,„t 1 1 1 .*',■' Jiiuecd, It has been in frieiidshin 
 
 that I have tried to interest him in a great „ati„l , ^ 
 t,on-to wean him from his darlin^ f„ lint " '""'" 
 my wife he should never eross our^h ckoM Th^ T 
 a made us one should ™ake you a,,d'pttm stlnget' 
 
 nearly oM enough to l:io:7lZ;'ZZ^^XZ 
 
 .fory^toehoosel^tlel't^ttXrn:^^^^ 
 
 Ihere is a nobler choice open to mo " «i.. i 
 calmly than she had yet spoken Ih S f "'^' ""^'^ 
 
 in her countenance that ardllA7l\r f^f '^'^"^^^ 
 and fear ran nlnn. J^^ ^^^^oa him. A thrill of admiration 
 anu lear ran along his nerves as he looked at hov Qi,. 
 seemed transfifrnrpd ffpi„ . ^ ^"^^^^ «it nei. hhe 
 
 she s-iid - TV . .. ' '' "" ^'°^^^ ^"'l 'setter love/' 
 
 bne sam. This is not the first time thot T 1^,-^ • i ■, 
 
 a M,ro way out of all my diffleulti ^ ca g ^TtlTr 
 convent where in mv ^« a x 7 ^ * '^ *^ "^® 
 «.l«.d^^ ™! - ^ 7 ? ■ '^"''* Anastasia. I saw ..o 
 _,. _d an ..auipe of a holy life hidden from the world"" 
 Life buned in a living grave ! " cried Dentil, ZL 
 
I,::'' 
 1" 
 
 fil' 
 
 
 332 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 stricken at the idea of such a sacrifice. " Sense and reason 
 obscured in a cloud of incense ! All the great uses of a 
 noble life brought down to petty observances and childish 
 mummeries, prayers and genuflections before waxen relics 
 and dressed-up madonnas. Oh, my dearest girl, next worst 
 only to the dominion of sin is the slavery of a false religion. 
 I would have thee free as air— free and enlightened- 
 released from the trammels of Eome. Happy in thyself 
 and useful to thy fellow-creatures." 
 
 " You see. Sir Denzil, even if we loved each other, we 
 could never think alike," Angela said, with a gentle sad- 
 ness. " Our minds would always dwell far apart. Things 
 that are dear and sacred to me are hateful to you." 
 
 " If you loved me I could win you to my way of think- 
 ing," he said. 
 
 " You mean that if I loved you I should love you better 
 than I love God?" 
 
 "Kot so, dear. But you would open your mind to the 
 truth. St. Paul sanctified union between Christian and 
 pagan, and deemed the unbelieving wife sanctified by the 
 believing husband. There can be no sin, therefore, do- 
 spite my poor mother's violent opinions, in the union of 
 those who worship the same God, and whose creed differs 
 only in particulars." 
 
 ^aiow knowest thou, man, whether thou shalt save 
 thy wife ? " 
 
 ^ " Indeed, love, I doubt not my power to wean you from 
 the errors of your early education." 
 
 " Oh, you see, you see how wide apart we are. Every 
 word you say Avidens the gulf betwixt us. Indeed, Sir 
 Denzil, you had best remain my friend. You can be 
 nothing else." 
 
 She turned from him almost impatiently. Young, 
 handsome, of a frank and generous nature, he yet lacked 
 the gifts that charm women ; or at least this one woman 
 
 i:;i 
 
Phi'Iaster. 
 
 333 
 
 was cold to him. It mijrht bo f l.«f ;« i • 
 
 was a c„M„oss-»„„ethi„g ! p :^ „ wlil'V"""'" """■" 
 
 verse of many a Boot of tt„ '"'' ''"™* '» "w 
 
 white heat of'pX;^/l\X;irtr ''"•"^" '" "'»' 
 lesser singer " "'" """"> »f many a 
 
 w^s'i'ter s^s taf t :r "^ r ^'^'-'^ -^ 
 
 intruder. ^ ^ ''^ "^° ^^"^^^ a welcome 
 
 ,.„ ~— v^u. J. jicivu only seen ' 
 
 iite, and they were all sad ones. I wish ' Pln-l. f . " 
 comedy. I should like to sga ^ T , • ^^"^*«*«^ ^^-as a 
 must be funny But h,. 1 r, ° ''' ^ ^"^'^ That 
 brisk, auntieT ^ ^J^Z^t ^11^7 "^T ^^ 
 Come and put on your hood Tft , / ^''' "^'"''^^y- 
 no masks. I si Jd have Wedt J: f Lr 7 ""''' 
 commg to the play. Sir Denzil ? " ' "^'^ ^^^ 
 
 'a know not if I am bidden nv ^f +i t. 
 me.^^ "^ """^ '^ *^'cr« be a place for 
 
 "Why, you can stand with the fon^ h, +!,«. -^ 
 can buy us some China oranges I W T TL """t ^"'^ 
 my mother that the new lif fl n f , ^^'^^ ^^''^"^^ ^^^^ 
 
 mustbevastlyfondoforangt. ;«,,„„;''* 'l™ '' "° 
 lathe pit, if looiiM h„ """""""™ to sell oranges 
 
 .atherb'eanU:: .analotr t^™"^^' ''°""' 
 meChim^ne tirade, i„ Corneile" Le f*' TT""^ '^"f '* 
 than any p„pil she ever harl m7„ / '™™'l'"el«r 
 
 -id I was'ab'orn actro V' p^;„ed ZZ T°'' ""^ 
 to the house. i-'TMiea l apUIon, as thej walked 
 
 "Piaster!" That atory „f „n,.app, ,„,^,„ ^^^^^ 
 
Ill 
 
 334 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 i 
 
 patient, melancholy, disinterested. How often Angela had 
 hung over the page, in the solitude of her own chamber. 
 And to hear the lines spoken to-day, when a tempest of 
 emotion had been raised in her breast, with Fareham by 
 her side ; to meet his glances at this or that moment of 
 the play, when the devoted girl was revealing the secret of 
 her passionate heart. Yet never was love freer from taint 
 of sin, and the end of the play was in no wise tragic. That 
 pure affection was encouraged and sanctified by the happy 
 bride. Bellario was not to be banished, but sheltered. 
 
 Alas ! yes ; but this was love unreturned. There was 
 no answering warmth on Philaster's part, no fire of passion 
 to scathe and destroy ; only a gentle gratitude for the girl's 
 devotion — a brother's, not a lover's regard. 
 
 She found Fareham and her sister in the hall ready to 
 step into the coach. 
 
 " I saw the name of your favorite play on the posts as I 
 walked home," he said ; " and as Hyacinth is always teas- 
 ing me for denying her the playhouse, I thought this was 
 a good opportunity for pleasing you both." 
 
 " You would have pleased me more if you had offered me 
 the chance of seeing a new comedy," she retorted pettishly. 
 
 " Ah, dearest, let us not open an old quarrel. The play- 
 wrights of Elizabeth's age were poets and gentlemen. The 
 men who write for us are blackguards and empty-headed 
 fops. "We have novelty, which is all most of us want, a 
 hundred new plays in a year, of which scarce one will be 
 remembered after the year is out. " 
 
 " Who wants to remember ? The highest merit in a play 
 is that it should be a reflection of to-day ; and who minds 
 if it is stale to-morrow ? To hold the mirror up to nature, 
 doesn't your Shakespere say ? And what more transient 
 than the image in a glass ? A comedy should be like one's 
 hat or one's gown, the top of the mode to-day, and cast off 
 and forgotten to-morrow." 
 
Philaster. 
 
 335 
 
 That IS what our fine gentlemen think ; who are satis- 
 fied If their wit gets three days' acceptance, and some sub- 
 8 antial comphment from the patron to whom they dedicate 
 their trash." *^ 
 
 ^ His lordship's liveries and four gray horses made a stir 
 in Lincoln s Inn Fields, and startled the crowd at the doors 
 of the ^ew Theater ; and within the house Lady Fnreham 
 and her sister divided the attention of the pit with their 
 royal highnesses the duke and duchess, who no loncrer 
 amused or scandalized the audience by those honeymoon 
 coquetries which had '^'-.tiuguished their earlier appearances 
 in public. Ducher 'was growing stout, and fast losing 
 her beauty, andL.;.. James was imitating his brother's 
 infidelities, after his own stealthy fashion ; so it may 
 be that Clarendon's daughter was no more happy tlian her 
 sister-in-law the queen, nor than her father, the chancellor 
 over whom the shadows of royal disfavor were darkening ' 
 Lady Fareham lolled languidly back in her box, andlet 
 all the audience see her indifference to Fletcher's poetic 
 dialogue. Angela sat motionless, her hands clasped in her 
 lap, entranced by that romantic story, and the acting which 
 gave life and reality to tluit poetic fable, as well it mi^ht 
 when the incomparable Betterton played " PJiilaste* " 
 Fareham stood beside his wife looking down at the stacre 
 and sometimes, as Angela looked up, their eyes met in olie 
 swift flash of r>-^sponsive thought ; met and glanced away 
 as if each knew the peril of such meetings— 
 
 '« If it be love 
 To forget all respect of his ovtrn friends 
 In thinking on your face." 
 
 Was it by chance that Fareham sighed as those lines were 
 spoken. And again — 
 
 "If, when he goes to rest (wliich will not be), 
 'Twixt every jirayer he says he names you once." 
 
 I • 
 
h:)i 
 
 35^ When The World Was Younger. 
 
 And again, M'tis it cliiuice that brought that swift, half- 
 aDTry questioning look upon her from those severe eyes in 
 the midst of Philaster's tirade— 
 
 " How heaven is in your eyes, but in your hearts 
 More hell than hell has ; how your tongues, like 
 
 scorpions, 
 Both heal and poison : how your thoughts are 
 
 woven 
 With thousand changes in one subtle web, 
 And wor, so by you. How that foolish man 
 That reads the story of a woman's face, 
 And dies believing it is lost for ever." 
 
 It was Angela whose eyes unconsciously sought his when 
 that passage occurred which had written itself upon her 
 heart long ago at Chilton when she first read the play— 
 " Alas, my lord, my life is not a thing 
 Worthy your noble thoughts; 'tis not a hfe, 
 'TJs but a piece of childhood thrown away." 
 
 _ Yt^hat was her poor life worth— so lonely even in her 
 sister's house— so desolate when his eyes looked not upon 
 her in kindness ? After having lived for two brief 
 summers and winters in his cherished company, havino- 
 learnt to know what a proud, honorable man was like*^ 
 his disdain of vice, his indifference to court favor, his 
 aspirations for liberty ; after having known him and loved 
 him with silent and secret love, what better could she do 
 than bury herself within convent walls, and spend the rest 
 of her days in praying for those she loved ? Alas, ho had 
 such need that some faithful soul should soar heavenward 
 in supplication for him who had himself so weak a hold 
 upon the skies ! Alas, to think of him as unbelievinc., 
 putting his trust in the opinions of infidels hke Hobbes or 
 Spinoza, rather than leaning on that rock of ao-es the 
 Church of St. Peter. 
 
 If she could not live for him— if it were a sin even to 
 
, I ; a * 
 
 Philaster. 
 
 33;, 
 
 upon by higher powers ; surrendering every desL wl 
 every hope that distinguished her from the mnlHri ^ 
 women vowed to a holy life. multitude of 
 
 " Never, sir, will I 
 Marry ; it is a thing within my vow." 
 
 The voice of the actress sounded silver-clear «« R«ii • 
 
 fate. ^^^' ^"^ ^s^s but little of 
 
 " It is a thing within my vow. " 
 
 modern age allowed ol uo romance. Iho could nri""" 
 
 The golden d^f :;;oi ^^ar"^,z:^rT'- 
 
 '•'Oh, that it could have been ! " thouo-ht AnMa n« +l 
 
.1 i 
 
 I > 
 
 
 338 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 got its horses entangled with other noble teams, to the 
 provocation of much ill language from postilions, and 
 flunkeys, and linkmen, for it was dark when they came 
 out of the theater, and a thick mist was rising from the 
 river, and flambeaux were faring up and down the dim 
 narrow thoroughfares. 
 
 "They light the streets better in Paris," complained 
 Hyacinth. " In the Kue de Touraine we had a lamp to 
 every house." 
 
 "I like to see the links moving up and down," said 
 Papillon^; ^tis ever so much prettier than lanterns that 
 stand still— like that one at the corner." 
 
 She pointed to a small round lamp that seemed to ac- 
 centuate the winter gloom. 
 
 "Here the lamps stink more than they light." said 
 Hyacinth. "How the coach rocks-those blockheads 
 will end by upsetting it. I should have been twice as well 
 m my chair." 
 
 Angela sat in her place lost in thought, and hardly con- 
 scious of the jolting coach, or of Papillon's prattle, who 
 would not be satisfied till she had dragged her aunt into 
 the conversation. 
 
 " Did you not love the play, and would you not love to 
 be a Princess like Arethusa, and to wear such a necklace ? 
 Mother's diamonds are not half as big." 
 
 " Pshaw, child, 'twas absolute glass— arrant trumpery." 
 " But her gown was not trumpery. It was Lady Castle- 
 maine's last birthday gown. I heard a lady telling her 
 friend about it in the seat next to mine. Lady Castle- 
 maine gave it to the actress ; and it cost three hundred 
 pounds— and Lady Castlemaine is all that there is of the 
 most extravagant, the lady said, and old Rowley has to 
 pay her debt8-(who is old Rowley, and why does he pay 
 people's debts ?) though she is the most unsc-upulous-I 
 forget the word — in London." 
 
Philaster. 
 
 339 
 
 I never Hskoa j-„„ to tuko our child there." 
 
 reclaimed from the waste" ^''^'""''-""'"g y»M Aelds 
 
 on New EtLtd I rf^ "!"* ''"'" ''^ *°"" W' "P- 
 an hour ago aTtho nl-u f 't""^ "' *'"" ^'^" ^'"W not 
 
 with one he loved " ^"""""^ ^^^ free, 
 
 coverour floors with rush" ^te^d rf P^ '°''' "'"''' '""' 
 
 " The beauty and grace of 1 & ,^ T '""''""•" 
 
 sepuichors. ban^quetsXele^ltir ""' "^ ""'^^ 
 J^.ilo„ sprang off the coach step iuto her father's 
 
 -^ewasoneoft,«part.to;h::r::rrs;„t 
 
 '^Sweetheart, why are you so sad ? - she asked - v 
 
 ook more unhappy than Philaster when he 1'-^^^''' 
 lady loved him not/' thought his 
 
 She would not be nnf nfF ^«, + i 
 
 lengthoftl.e corridor! t "the to '"f1,r °"' '''■"/" '■''' 
 parted from her with L kiss ontrfot ^r"' """ "' 
 
 How your lips burn," sho cried "r\ 
 not .ekenin, for the plague. I d^mt last ^ Z Z 
 
 I 
 
3 .i 
 'ill 
 
 |i 
 
 w 
 
 340 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 contagion had come back ; and that our new glass coach 
 was gomg about with a bell collecting the dead « 
 
 " Thou hadst eaten too much supper, sweet. Such 
 dreams are warnings against excess of pies and jellies. 
 ^o, love, I have business." 
 
 ''You have always business now. You used to let me 
 stay with you-even when you was busy/' Ilenriette re- 
 monstrated, dejectedly, as the sonorous oak door closed 
 agamst her. 
 
 Fareham flung himself into his chair in front of the 
 large table, with its heaped-up books and litter of papers 
 Straight before him there lay Milton's pan, 3hlet-a pub^ 
 lication of ten years ago : but he had be^n reading it 
 Di/orce'' "'°™"'^-" ^^^'' ^^^^"^^^ ^"^ Discipline of 
 
 There were sentences which seemed to him to stand out 
 npon the page, almost as if written in fire ; and to these 
 he recurred again and again, brooding over and weighing 
 
 every word " Neither can this law be of force to 
 
 engage a blameless creature to his own perpetual sorrow 
 mistaken for his expected solace, without suifering charity 
 to step 111 and do a confessed good .vork of parting those 
 whom nothing holds together but tins of God's joinincr 
 falsely supposed against the express end of his own ordt 
 nance. . . at is not good/ said He, ' that man should 
 be a one, I wiil make him a helpmeet for him.' From 
 wJuch words, so plain, less cannot be concluded, nor is by 
 any learned interpreter, than that in God's intention a 
 meet and happy conversation is the chiefest and noblest 
 end of marriage. . . . Again, where the mind is unsatis- 
 lied, the solitariness of man, which God had namely and 
 principally ordered to prevent by marriage, hath no rem- 
 edy but hes_ in a worse condition than the loneliest sin- 
 gle life ; for m single life the absence and remoteness of a 
 helper might inure him to expect his own comforts out of 
 
Good-bye, London. . 
 
 "e to him, i, «pecWIyh7ctl7 " ?"' "">»' »«d» 
 ""choly a daily trouMo and n??"; ""'''™ '""" *" "^I" 
 lil- that which roprottr^," "' '°"' '" -"^ ^"8™ 
 
 -o.! ftsif r,::^ ttr ;i ""r'?'^- "■° '»="'»% 
 
 A new world, a new life and nlTlt "^°^' ^^°"^^«e« ^ 
 if it could be done ! It' Tot^cU 1 "' '^''''^ «^- ««d, 
 
 oept perhaps those hi 1^ 'h^l "^ ""~"' °"^-^-^'- 
 row, and it would mTn ^^^'^ '"^^'^' ^ ^^ief sor- 
 
 blighted else. t1 hves r I 7 ''^^^^ ''^^^' --t bo 
 if eyes speak true. Su/e .'s ot n '" '7' "^ ^^^ ^ ^es, 
 contagion, quotha I IwIuSThat^ ^^^^ 
 
 Its icy sweats and parching heats 1 ^'- ' ^""^ ^"'^ 
 
 ^everasthatdevilisLiseaslttt;,;^--^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 QOOD-BYE, LOJ^DGlT. 
 
 SiTTiN-G in her own rnnm i, ^^ 
 
 brought toAngela-alon. lei 7' T^^''' ^ ^'"''^ ^«« 
 firm hand she knew very fve^^^^^^^^ ^^^^ely written, in a neat. 
 
 It was from Den7i] Wnr. 
 
 thought and warm Si„!^T„:i\''^''''''"" °' ^^^^st 
 iect of their morninSdfcol:"'' ■"" P"™^'' "'o ,nb. 
 
 "Wewere interrupted before I had time to open n.y 
 
' I! 
 
 342 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 heart to you, dearest/' he wrote ; " and at a moment 
 when we hud touclied on the most delicate point in our 
 friendshij) — the dillerenee in our religious education and 
 observance. Oh, my beloved, let not diifercnce in par- 
 ticulars ciivide two hearts that worship the same God, or 
 make a barrier between two minds that tliink alike upon 
 essentials. The Christ who died for you is not less my 
 Saviour because I love not to obtrude the dressed-up image 
 of Ilia earthly mother between Ilis Godhead and my 
 prayers. In the regeneration of baptism, in the sanctity 
 of marriage, in the resurrection of the body and the life of 
 the world to come, in the reality of sin and the necessity 
 for repentance, I believe as truly as any papist living. 
 Let our lives be but once united, who knows how the 
 future may shape and modify our minds and our faith. I 
 may be brought to your way of thinking, or you to mine. 
 I will pledge myself never to be guilty of disrespect to 
 your religion, or to unkindly urge you to any change in 
 your observances. I am not one of those who have 
 exchanged one tyranny for another, and who, released 
 from the dominion of Rome, have become the slave of the 
 Covenant. I have been taught by one who, himself deeply 
 religious, would have all men free to worship God by the 
 light of their own conscience ; and to my wife, that dearer 
 half of my soul, I would allow perfect freedom. I suffer 
 from the lack of poetic phrases with which to embellish 
 the plain reality of my love ; but be sure, Angela, that 
 you may travel far through the world, and receive many 
 a flowery compliment to your beauty, yet meet none who 
 will love you as faithfully as I have loved you for this 
 year last past, and as I doubt I shall love you — happy or 
 unfortunate in my wooing — for all the rest of my life. 
 Think, dearest, whether it were not wise on your part to 
 iiccept the chaste and respectful homage of a suitor who 
 is free to love and cherish you, and tiius to shield yourself 
 
Good-bye, London. 
 
 ■over. I i^u no^w ; I :m;?°» ^"'^ "'» e^os of a 
 I pity, ana wh„,„ I bov ,;,,'; "T ^"'r ^--^ »"' 
 »« forme, tlmt wore a l,.,„„v 7 ^ '''" ' ""'* ^O"- '™, 
 
 »y wife, and tlu,. e"d t^n ■ '"'""'' "'"""" ""l-o J-o" 
 ''ould again „ Jthat l1^ 7 "' ""^"^^ ''Oi"=»- I 
 
 with all Listerfcottnt^rT ''"" °" "-"» 
 tenderness to mc """^ *""^ ^ou, and more «... ..friend's 
 
 -:^"JSs^CinrLrtsrr:'r ^ -^ ^-^'^ 
 
 one unworthy thought to W ,!^ ' ^ ''""'''' ™P"te 
 
 all earthly „4it. If your ,! r", '"'""'' ^ '""""■ "^'ovo 
 itworo misery for yof, t„ t'e T'"" ^"'""'^ °"' "''""' 
 with an affection p^ur and 1 L^ T "'"' " '""«' >» 
 toguisedgiriinFlLhX, *"^3'^- *"« '"'^ °' ^i"^ 
 yon know not the peril in wh L ' ' ''™™' ™«el. 
 cent mind eannot eonccive tie atr-" *f ' ^""^ »"»: 
 
 nnholy love n>ay climb h a mln'^fi" ''«''"° "'>'<='' 
 fathom the black ^ih of ™c&'''"?- ^» =™ot 
 -a man aa capable of grettnc f T'" "^ ''^"l"'™ 
 mgood. Forgot not wCrrcebl^V "' ."' 'i'««"oti«n 
 Can you doubt his au.laci v in ,""" '" those veins, 
 
 member that he com^ o^^L """S-'loins, when you re- 
 'hat renegade a7;: ,f ^^^ " w "'™'' ■''"'•uced 
 who would have waded dp ^ntT^T""'''-'' »" 
 «aohhis d^ired goal, l^the , • o.?:' 1 " "f"'' '" 
 e^cpressed by him in one word-, t^uj - T'"" ""^ "^ 
 
 J^o you consider what tl.nf ^r i ^ 
 whose lieart sin has lain ^"^ ""'""^ *« ^ »^^n over 
 How resolute in ev ] W 7^^'' ^'"^ ^ thorough I 
 in Koseness, is h who tlk'thT^' T' "'^'^^^ ^^^^^ 
 Oh,mylove,therearedra:on' n-'"''^ ^'' ^'' "^«"« •' 
 footsteps-the dra.oL of W th 7' '''"' "^^ ^^"--* 
 i«ve. ilee from thy worst enlt !. "^^ Presumptuous 
 
 W^vorst enemy, dearest, to the shelter of 
 
Ill 
 
 i : 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 344 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 a heart which adores thee ; loan upon a breast whoso pulaos 
 beat for thee with a truth that time cannot change. 
 
 " Thine till death, 
 
 Angela tore up tho letter in anger. How dared ho 
 write thus of Lord Faief'.am ? To impute sinful passions, 
 guilty dosires— to enter into another man's mind, und 
 read the secret cipher of his thoughts and wishes with an 
 assumed key, which might be false? His letter was a 
 buniile of false assumptions. What right had he to insist 
 that her brothor-in-hw cared for lior with more than tho 
 affection authorized by affinity? Ho had no right. She 
 hated him for his insolent letter. She scorned the protec- 
 tion of his love. She had her refuge and her shelter in a 
 holier love than his. Tho doors of her old home would 
 open to her at a word. 
 
 She sat on a low stool in front of the hearth, while tho 
 pile of ship-timber on the andirons burnt itself out and 
 turned from red to gray. She sat looking into tho dying 
 firo and recalling the pictures of the past ; the dull gray 
 convent rooms and formal convent garden ; the petty rules 
 and restrictions ; the so-frequent functions — low mass and 
 high, benedictions, vespers— tho recurrent sound of the 
 chapel bell. The few dull books, permitted in the hour of 
 so-called recreation ; the somber gray gown, which was 
 the only relief from perpetual black ; the limitations of 
 that colorless life. She had been happy with the Ursulincs 
 under her great aunt's gentle sway. But could she be 
 happy with the present superior, whose domineering temper 
 she knew ? She had been happy in her ignorance of tlie 
 outer world ; but could she be happy again in that gray 
 seclusion — she who had sat at the banquet of life, who had 
 seen' the beauty and the variety of her native land ? To 
 be an exile for the rest of her days, in the hopeless gloom 
 
Good-bye, London. 
 
 i^^'S^J-^tlr:^''"''^ -" '- Woe. 
 
 ana rcfngo us to convent or h ,! ,, " 'f J ' "<«^"»n 
 
 Ills oppoarances in I.er lifo ),„'] 1°' "'"' ' '--''> "teent. 
 liis indnonoo on her JesH ° ! r ?' '" ""''^ "'«' »» brief 
 '»! o, hi™ no. in ti.;'::,'! ^ .X"'"' »"« - 'o'get^ 
 
 It was within a week nf +i,nf 
 worn startled l.ytUo arrival oftLlrZ'" """' "'" "'"'-"^ 
 "' U-e du»k of the winter afte „". f' r'"'"""""'"' 
 slow stages from Spain, ridi, "T '""' "»""' V 
 
 jonrney. like Ilowell. fl t^veart "f «''''" P"' of the 
 "..e feithful soldier-sorvant a,^ 1 „ , "' ""''''■'<"" ""')' by 
 
 in. a,jd rnnning no »ii;h;'::i3r;rr fo':^ ^™" ^"«- 
 
 -oi'nrs'';t°"-r:rd"'" "* - - 
 
 ns or our hackneys. I left \ui T- I " "'">' "«>'«'• bad 
 tliedeath of my p'o^ frit" plnl"' '" ^''P'' ""' '»»? after 
 friendship and hisgood lif^ar"'- '"'^'"'- " "^ h'^ 
 mo to the capital.*^ VohulhTT^T'^''''y"'''^i<>ok 
 with the king, shortly be; 'It"!' .■*' 'f'""P'°" Court, 
 fl'ght ; and we were bosom fr c„d tl" ^" '"I ' '" '"-="'™<"1 
 dead of a fever earlv iuTl.e "' '^"<' '»' be being 
 
 but to travel slo^t^ Lme?ard''r'''%' '""' "" ™°'« '» do 
 ohimncy-eorner, and to ch f,' « °"'' ""^ ''"J'^ » "y own 
 
 -,T«-w»yVotr:ics-mrdt;^- 
 
 r"-tr;reft"^rri"-> Wing over him 
 ladyship's footmen set a tie t "^i '''" "'^' »'"'« her 
 
 P™-ionsforanimprom;*CZd?--^-i-- 
 
ll 
 
 346 
 
 ll I 
 
 ill 
 
 lit 
 
 ml 
 
 When The World Was Younjrer. 
 
 'Mi << 
 
 ir 
 
 them, and coming between whiles to embrace her father in 
 a flutter of spirits, the firelight shining on her flame-colored 
 velvet gown and primrose taffety petticoat, her pretty 
 golden curls and sparkling sevigne, her ruby necklace and 
 earrings, and her bright restless eyes. While the elder 
 sister was all movement and agitation, the younger stood 
 calm and still beside her father's chair, her hand clasped 
 in his, her thoughtful eyes looking down at him as he 
 talked, stopping now and then in his story of adventures 
 to eat and drink. 
 
 He looked much older than when he surprised her in 
 the convent garden. His hair and beard, then iron gray, 
 were now silver white. He wore his own hair, which was 
 abundant, and a beard cut after the fashion she knew in 
 the portraits of Henri Quatre. His clothes were still of 
 that style, which he had never changed, and which lived 
 now only in the paintings of Vandyke and his school. 
 
 " How the girl looks at me ! " Sir John said, surprising 
 his daughter's earnest gaze. "Does she take me for a 
 ghost?'' 
 
 " Indeed, sir, she may well fancy you have come back 
 from the other world while you wear that antique suit," 
 said Hyacinth. "I hope your first business to-morrow 
 will be to replenish your ward.obe by the assistance of 
 Lord Eochester's tailor. He is a German, and has the 
 b>jst cut for a justaucorps in all the West End. Fareham 
 is bad enough to make a wife ashamed of him ; but his 
 clothes are only poor and shabby for his condition. Your 
 Spanish cloak a.id steeple hat are fitter for a traveling 
 quack doctor than for a gentleman of quality, and your 
 doublet and ves^. might have come out of the ark." 
 
 '*If I change them, it will be but to humor your vanity, 
 sweetheart," answered : sr father. *' I bought the suit in 
 Paris three j ears ago, and I swore I would cast them back 
 upon the snip's hands if he gave me any new-fangled 
 
Good-bye, London. ^^^ 
 
 been living since 0!^ *f'»"l«'"^'-wl.ero I have 
 
 where all are fine " ' ^''^'"'' ^'-icmth, 
 
 more than the contents of my ho„,e " '""''^ '=™* 
 
 " Thou shouldst not envvsin in hiirh r,l„„ t, • 
 "Envy ! I envy a " * ^'""^' "yoiith." 
 
 hamT^hTn t roro' '''' " '""^ "-^^^ ^"S'»^ 
 Courtis the icin^smi tZ TZXhr^'^^" "' ""=' 
 
 j5.^:;::^jri^t::taS5=^ 
 
 ter from thei J^d^SC'^rr' *';r"""''^- 
 Charies. Poor Mv r ,m * 1 1 ^,' '"^ "'» """tyr 
 
 debt, after squaSn^Ter nl:" '"" ''™''™ ""^^ '» 
 years, and th!t 8hrCl„„k " t ,„ T" ° *'""» "'■'"''^ 
 Court by her alUance tith TerC ,"'"" "' '"" ^'^™* 
 
 ev^lretriTwii,"'^' '""''"'' "" --"-»»'.>d 
 »;itryrLV;i:;^r:rsr;:id"::r 
 
 eunsMne of reslU^fornClt ^ ,^--;^^ Mho 
 
 
348 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 was, in dignity find manly affection, proud and pure as 
 King Arthur in the old romance, and all she cost him by 
 womanish tyrannies and prejudices, and difficult commands 
 laid upon him at a juncture of so exceeding difficulty.'* 
 
 The sisters listened in a respectful silence. The old 
 cavalier cut a fresh slice of chine, sighed, and continued 
 his sermon. 
 
 " I doubt that while we, the lookers on, remember, they, 
 the actors, forget ; for could the son of such a noble victim 
 wallow in a profligate court, surrender himself to the 
 devilish necromancies of vicious women and viler men, if 
 he remembered his father's character, and his father's 
 death. 'No; memory must be a blank, and we, who 
 suffered with our royal master, are fools to prate of ingrati- 
 tude or neglect, since the son who can forget such a father 
 may well forget his father's servants and friends. But we 
 will not talk of public matters in the first hour of our 
 greeting. Nor need I prate of the king, since I have not 
 come back to England to clap a periwig over my gray 
 hairs, and play waiter upon court favor, and wear out the 
 back of my coat against the tapestry at Whitehall standing 
 in the rear of the crowd, to have my toes trampled upon 
 by the sharp heels of court ladies, and an elbow in my 
 stomach more often than not. I am come, like Wolsey, 
 girls, to lay my old bon's among you. Art thou ready' 
 Angela? Hast thou had enough of London, and play- 
 houses, and parks, and wilt thou share thy father's solitude 
 in Buckinghamshire ?" 
 " With all my heart, sir." 
 
 " What ! never a sigh for London pleasures ? Thou 
 hast the great lady's air and carriage in that brave blue 
 taffety. The nun I knew three years ago has vanished. 
 Can you so lightly renounce the splendor of this house, 
 HTid your sister's company, to make a prosing old father 
 happy?" 
 
 >f 
 
Good-bye, London. 
 
 349 
 
 ^'^ndeed sir, I am ready to go with you.- 
 How she says that-with what a sweet sad onn.f 
 nance of woeful resignation. But I will noT^lCL ^ ^ 
 house too severe a prison, dearest. You shall v\.h i t 
 and your sister, when you will 1^^1111''''°"' 
 and a team of stout roaiterTlt ^7:^^;:^^ 
 waited for the plough. And the Vale of Ay Xv i 
 but a long day's journey from London while 'XT ^ 
 than a morning's ride to Chilton " ^" "^'^'' 
 
 " Except your husband." 
 
 "Husbands such as mine are poor comTint^x, x^ t. 
 has a moody brow, and a mind 3^3^110 matt"" 
 He dmes with Clarendon one day, and wilhAir T 
 another; or he goes to Deptfor/'trgr.™ t tt'S » 
 Evelyn ; or he ereeps away to some obscure Quarter 'f«. 
 town to hob-nob with Milton or Marvel, theTember t' 
 Hull. I doubt they are all of one minrl ir, ; f^ 
 
 majesty, and conspiring against h^ if t 1 "^ " 
 
 I shall have no one " ^^ ^ ^°'' ^^ ^^^t^r 
 
 "What, no one; when you have HennVffn ™i 
 three years ago had shrewdness enof'h ok' I ""T, 
 grandfather amused with her impertS,t p^ttS?- " * 
 
 (xrandfathers are easily amused bv children fi, 
 as seldom as you have seen Papillon To W , i "'" 
 you all day with her everlasting chatter td T 
 
 and remarks, and opinions (a hrat of tw 'e :^, S^ 
 would soon give you the vapors." opniions), 
 
 " I am not so subject to vapors as you chiM T nf 
 
 look at you, now the candles are lighted " ^ ""' 
 
 The footmen had lighted clusters of wax candle- ->n 
 
 either side the tall chimney-piece ^ 
 
 Sir John drew his elder daughter to the light, scruti- 
 
(■ ill "1 ■ 
 
 'I I 
 i: 
 
 * i. ■ 
 
 350 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 "" face .vith a father's privilege of uncompromising 
 
 "You paintthio- enough, i^ conscience' name, though 
 not quite so thick as the Spanish sefioras. They are 
 
 and red But you are haggard under all your red. You 
 aro not the woman I left in '05. '•' 
 
 "I ani near two years older than the woman you left 
 and as for paint, there is not a woman over tJe'^^fin 
 London who uses as little red and white as I do." 
 
 " What has become of Fareham to-night ?" Sir John 
 asked presently, when Hyacinth had picked up her favorite 
 spaniel to nurse and fondle, while Angela had resumed her 
 occupation at an embroidery frame, and a reposeful air as 
 of a long-esta.)lished domesticity had fallen upon the scene, 
 aie IS at Chilton. When he is not plotting he rushe. 
 off to Oxfordshire for the hunting and shooting"^ lie We 
 buglehorus and yelping curs, and huntsman's cracked 
 
 tTon'of tTts - ^^'' '""^'"''^ '^ ^'^''' '" ^^'' ^"^^^^«^- 
 "A man was never meant to sit in a velvet chair and 
 talk fine. It is all one for a French abbe and a few oW 
 women m men's clothing to sit round the room and chop 
 logic with a learned spinster like Mademoiselle Scuderv • 
 
 eWiT^T,"' ^^^^:"^J'«^\""l-« ^hey are statesmen ^o; 
 clerks Ihey must have horses and hounds, gun and 
 spaniel hawk or rod. I am glad Fareham bvts spo t 
 And as for that talk of conspiring, let me not hear itTom 
 thee. Hyacinth. 'Tis a perilous discourse to but hint at 
 treason ; and your husband is a loyal gentleman who loves. 
 
 and with a wry face— "reveres his king" 
 
 " Oh, I was only jesting. But, indeed, a man wlio so 
 disparages the things other people love must needs be a 
 rol,el ii. heart. Did you hear of Monsieur de M.ifort 
 while you were at l>aris ? " r ae Ma.tort 
 
►mpromismg 
 
 Good-bye, London. ^^j 
 
 wiiicn betrays hidden pain; but the soldier's senses b,,l 
 
 her knees thut niffht in flip mJriof f ^> *^i i'Ueued. On 
 tears streamed fa^t th Ztht ttt" ''"^"^' "" 
 
 hatret rt;«:%lTr "■"■" ""'^ "-■»«' -»>d' 
 God and M™ Ch rc^ 2 ^ id ZT? 7^""""' *» 
 a fallen angel-a wander r vh had s td aT "Z^ 
 only light and tho guide of h^^n lUo 1!Z 'i ""^ 
 -ark for the tempfer. What k! er p„er tlnn C '" 
 could have so turned good to evil • the f!- " "".'^'"™^ 
 brother, to the b,.e paslon wLrl^d":; r^^^:!,? 
 between them ; cand wliioh mncf i-^ ^i, ^^'tieagult 
 
 8 ow journey, he had poured out his thourfits to t It' 
 atory of his life his opinions, expatiate: fwnf'e™ 
 fidence upon the things he IovpH nnri fi ,, Z™*;™^^ con- 
 
 And at Chilton, she ^looked "t"'" rem'"' " '?'?'• 
 goodness to her, the pains he had tnk!„ i '™^^'",''«'-<=<i i"s 
 fo. her to ride, their Lg ^ in^^t r H^^erS'^C 
 
I, f 
 
 [I 
 
 i ■ ' 
 
 Ik. '^ ' 
 
 352 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 riette their hwking parties, ami in all his l.i„<1 brother'v 
 care of her. The change in him U.\ como :„i>„„t by al 
 
 most imperceptible degrees ; but it had boon ehiclly m4ed 
 by a fitful temper that had cut her to *he quiel, n w I„ 
 kmd; now barely civil; carting her company' to-dav- 
 
 '"■"""■""' r"'"'" ''"■•' '^ '"'"»■'= '™'» ™" Wion in tr 
 presence. Then, .fter tho n.ectinx at Millbank, there had 
 come a coldness so -.cy. a c.u-c,vsm socatting, tha for a W 
 t.me she had though,: I. hat.,, ,, „„„b „,t des^ ed h " 
 
 o^'rtd "^ ^"■"' '\''^^-*-'P'- His unkind™ s had 
 o,er.nadowed every honr of her life, and the longing Z 
 
 cry out to him, " Indeed, sir, your thought, wrong me I 
 am not the wretch yo„ think," had been almost t^oo much 
 for her fortitude. She had felt that she must e;ceuTpate 
 
 w,ster And then honor and affection for Hyacinth had 
 prev.a,ed; and she had bent her shoulders to'tl burden 
 of undeserved shame. She had sat silent and abashed in 
 his presence, like a guilty creature. 
 
 Sir John Kirkland spent a week at Fareham House em- 
 ployed in choosing a team of horses, suitable alike S the 
 road and the plough, looking oat, among the coachmlket 
 for a second-hand traveling carriage, and eventuairbu; 
 ing a coach of Lady Panshawe's, which had been bronZ 
 fi.m Madrid with the rest of her very extensivrgoorfn" 
 
 One need scarce remark that it was not one of the late 
 ambassador s state carriages, his ruby velvet coach, rtl 
 fringes that cost three hundred pounds, or his brorade 
 carriage but a coach that had been used for the evervday 
 
 service of his suite. ^vci yudy 
 
 Sir John also bought a 1 :., pMn silver, i„ Ac .,( 
 that fine collection of silver and parcel-gilt which hal be , 
 .0 willingly saenflced to royal necessities; and thou" ie 
 breaJied no s.gh over past losses, some bitter tlwughi, 
 
Good-bye, London. ^-. 
 
 presented to a pretty actrt^ ^ ^'"^^' ^"^^^^ 
 
 don friends amid t hi 1 ''.';' ^"^'''^^ *« ^^^^ J-- 
 day, and tL^l!:^^ ^^ :^- ^^^^ visitin, 
 
 -miniature bowls of ec.r.Lii , '*' '^^"'^^ ^^^^"P« 
 
 and to be heirdain ilv .w,^''''^"^"' ^^^'^^"^ ^^^"'il^^^ 
 There was a I'ro ^ m^,^^^ ^^^^^^-bred fingers. 
 
 Mrs. Kirkland^: departTe " '""'"^ ''' '''"^ "°^^- ^^ 
 
 sun from spring Whv th. t, T . ?'''^ ''^''^' *^^^ ^^« 
 handsome when vou . ^ ' '^ '^""'^ ^^"^ ^^«"* ^^^ 
 
 says ?- ^ ' "'' ^°"^- ^^l^^t^« that Butler 
 
 " 'The twinkling stars begin to muster, 
 And glitter with their borrowed luster.' 
 
 But what's to become of me without the sun ? T «l ii 
 have no one to side-glass in the ring " '^'^^^ 
 
 gJsfdte^' ^^ ^^^^'' ^ ^^^ -^ "^^^^ 
 
 in your service rattlinrr i ? ^""'^ ''^'^ "^^^^ows 
 
 whL would raVela^d^/tttr:^ 
 
 recognize an adorer Tinnnri T ^^® ^^ ^"™ ^^^ 
 
 dnvfn for ho.,1 T„ t„!° no^, H"^ "'"^-^ ' >-e 
 not so coy aa froward boauty ! And ,t ti,. ^ ^' ""'',"' " 
 
1/1 1 
 
 I 
 
 I' ,. } 
 
 , -4 
 
 1i 
 
 354 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 you the asperior as you went out. And you to bo uncon- 
 scious all the time ! " 
 
 " my, 'tis so much happier for me, Sir Ralph, since you 
 have given me a reserve of gratified vanity that will last me 
 a year ni the country, where I shall see nothing but plough- 
 men and bird-boys." 
 
 " Look out for the scarecrows in St. John's field, for the 
 odds are you will see me some day disguised as one.'' 
 
 "Why disguised ?" asked his friend Mr. Peuington, 
 who had lately produced a comedy that had been acted 
 three times at the Duke's theater, and once at Court, 
 which may be taken as a prosperous run for a new play 
 
 Lady Sarah Tewkesbury held forth on the pleasures of a 
 country life, and lamented that family connections and the 
 necessity of standing well with the Court constrained her 
 to spend the greater part of her existence in town 
 
 " I am like Milton," she said. '' I adore a rural life, to 
 hear the cock — 
 
 From Ills watchtower in the skies, 
 "When the horse and hound do rise.' 
 
 Oh, I love buttercups and daisies above all the Paris 
 finery in the New Exchange ; and to steep one's com- 
 plexion in May dew, and to sup on a syllabub or a dish of 
 frumenty-so cheap, too, while it costs a fortune but to 
 scrape along in London." 
 
 " The country is well enough for a month at haymaking, 
 to romp with a bevy of London beauties in the meadows 
 near Tunbridge Wells, or to dance to a couple of fiddles on 
 the common by moonlight," said Mr. Penington, where- 
 upon all agreed that Tunbridge Wells, Epsom, Donea^ter, 
 and Newmarket were the only country possible to people 
 of intellect. ^ ^ 
 
 "I would never go further than Epsom, if I had mv 
 will, said Sir Ralph ; " for I see no pleasure in iNew- 
 
Good-bye, London. 
 
 I'avc in a mag-got match Tm f."'° "'"" ''« "'kht 
 
 «tako high o„:Sgh':,fttl.Ot .°"'" """"«-"'"». lid ho 
 
 ""' th:;:j: :t:::,;i ^^^.x^^ '^»«'. », B«e>.i.,ghamshi„ 
 
 hor hero half-a-do. „ t£- '?''""*''• " ' *'"'" &'* 
 visits must bo long e„™„h " 1.27 ' """ '""' "'■"^ 
 out of hor oomplcxlon, anS av". wV T"""'^ '™'"'<'^' 
 maid. " ' "'" ' "»' from becoming a milk- 
 
 "Olid, to see her frccWcd ."• cried P„. ■ . 
 could as soon imagine Ilolon „iH, „ , ^™"'g'»n- " I 
 pallor is the ehoiefst el a m n „ ^T' ^'''■■" ^"""'on 
 Bicilinossthat appeal tXlelf of !' ''"""'r'' '»«"»'• 
 '>%o„.don't4endle-yonr armT!l n " °' '"'""«' »» 
 W eount,^ hoyden, Sh 'To; :nd?rr'"'' f '"'^• 
 
 where ho and Wd Dor tster h . r* "' *''" '^'''"'^- 
 «c«fflinga„dq„arreli„g„t he If '? '^""■■»«t«<i for 
 
 "Has your ladvsh n V '^?"^'•y conference. 
 Chester siLo t y^:' fe ::;'*":, "f « »»<• Lord Dor- 
 asked Lady Saralf "I think Buo°F 7" ofbondage?" 
 m and handsome, and tTkes •>, ■" "" '™ "°'''' ^^ 
 tost joke that ever was td T^™"™'"' '^ «'<= 
 ever." ""'' ""'' '= as great at court as 
 
 "His majesty h but too inJnl^nt ".-,,, 
 "and encourages the Duke to .•• nsdit '^ "*'™°"' 
 ceremony. He had the imBe'tinen„ ! f"" """'^"'^ »' 
 chapel before ho had waiteTon iT *° ''"'"' hin'cclf at 
 
 "Who was Tory a™; a "h r r'^J"''^-" 
 Baid Poniagton. "But JmcT i"^*'^ ''™ t'"' Court." 
 
 ^i-o,ish;jestingiett.-i^te::^j^-r; 
 
 !5.« 
 
356 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 and if you can make Cliarles Stuart lau.'h mr, may pick 
 his pocket- " ^ 
 
 " Or seduce his mistress " 
 
 ^ "Oh, he will give much to wit and gayety. He learnt 
 the knack <ji taking life easily while he led that queer, 
 Bhiftmg life i,i exile. He was a cosmopolitan and a soldier 
 of fortune before he was a king de facto ; and still wears 
 the loose garments of those easy, beggarly days, when he 
 had neither money nor care. Be .are he regrets that rov- 
 ing life-Madrid, Paris, the Ilague-and will never love 
 a son as well as little Monmouth, the child of his youth " 
 -What would he aot give to make that base-born brat 
 Prince of Wales ! Strange that while Lord Ross is trying 
 to make his offsprincr illegitimate by Act of Parliament 
 his master ,s anxieties should all tend the other way " 
 '' Don't talk to me of Parliament," cried Lady Sarah, 
 the tyranny of the Hump was nothing to them. Look at 
 the tax upon French wines, whirh will make it almost 
 impossible for a lady of small means to enter tin her friends 
 And an act of burying v all in wooler, or the benefit 
 of the English trade in wool.'' 
 
 " But, indeed, Lady Sarah, it is we of the old faith who 
 have most need to complain/" sujd Lady Fa-ham, '^ since 
 these wretches make us pay a double poll-tax ; anri all our 
 foreign friends are being driven away for the . ane reason 
 -just because the foolish and the igno- it m^ .t needs put 
 down the fire to the Catholics." 
 
 "Indeed your ladyship, the papis, hay. had an un- 
 Incky knack at lighting fires, as Smithf..ldand Oxford can 
 testify; said Penington ; "and perhaps, having no more 
 opportunity of roasting martyrs, it may please some of your 
 creed to burn Protestant houses, with the chance of cook- 
 ing a few Protestants inside 'em." 
 
 Angela had drawn away from the little knot of fine ladies 
 and finer gentlemen, and was sitting in the bay window of 
 
.1 
 
 Good-bye, London. 
 
 — 357 
 
 and hits us v-ithhor ^*;,,," "'""'"'''""» out 'LitUo viper!' 
 
 yoPSt" ':""' '''"'""" ■' ""' ™ '-"- yoa strike 
 ''Oh, she doesnV hurf mn . i. a ^, 
 
 " You aro an uuerat I „ 5 "" "''" '» ' " 
 ^■^iyMp i, so W,a Is^t ,„';;i'? ™?'»'"' -l-n her 
 company." ■>°" "« ""re to see all lier fine 
 
 and ^■CylMl°igZoTtl:'7' ''T°'' '-"^y' "« «'™e, 
 the duke, and the general a„dT ^"^"^ '^'"= '""?' »d 
 ".aine's jewels, or the te net ?7 ' '"' ^"'^^ t'»»««- 
 lad,ship.sPia„dorslace It :Jr:' f ™ ''''™' «- her 
 aow Monsieur deMalfortisLeir ' "' '""'''-™ter 
 and he let me play „„ his guff , ti,„ , ? "'^^^ P'oasaut, 
 ciated him. And he ta ,if *v ^''' '"' "o™ " ™n- 
 There's no pleasure folly "e*^ ""^^ ^-^-"'-« ooranto. 
 J..igland." ""^ "'"' """o he fell ill and left 
 
 "You shall come to the Manor Tf •„ , 
 even though yo„ hate the coun ry and '' t "." ''''"«'- 
 "I have left, t lovi„., .", ^ "^ o"" London." 
 
 "fit- Khis lords, ™ ft trV '»-'""' too mueh 
 would be different. 01 ,,1 ? , '° *^, *hoater often it 
 ^ear page ! Do von 'hiiri n ^^"''''' """ 'hat 
 -tie, if his lordship's tailor l::f^:t^:^^f^'' 
 
 
 I. 1: 
 
358 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 " I think thou hast prudonco for iinytliing, dearest.** 
 
 "I would rather act that page tliau ' Paulino' in * Poly- 
 eucte,' though nuidemoisello saya I speak her tirades 
 nearly as well as an actress she once saw at the Marais, 
 who was too olJ and fat for the character. How 1 sliould 
 love to be an actress, and to i)lay tragedy and comedy, and 
 make people cry and laugh. Indeed, I would rather be 
 anythiuf^ than a Lady— unless I could be exactly like Lady 
 Castlemaine." 
 
 " Ah, Heaven forbid ! " 
 
 " But why not ? I heard Sir Ralph tell mother that let 
 her behave as madly aS she may, she will always be atop of 
 the tree and that the young sparks at the chapel royal 
 hardly look at their prayer-books for gazing at her, and 
 that tlie king " 
 
 " Ah, sweetheart, I want to hear no more of her ! " 
 
 " Why don't you like her ? I thought you did not 
 know her. She never comes here." 
 
 " Are there any staghoundsin the Vale of Aylesbury ?" 
 asked the boy, who had been looking out of the window 
 watching the boats go by, unheeding his sister's babble. 
 
 *'I know not, love ; but there shall be dogs enough for 
 you to play with, I'll warrant, and a pony for you to ride. 
 Grandfather shall get them for his dearest." 
 
 Sir John was fond of Henriette, whom he looked upon 
 as a marvel of precocious brightness ; but the boy was his 
 favorite, whom he loved with an old man's half-melancholy 
 affection for the creature which is to live and act a part in 
 the world when he, the graybeard, shall be dust. 
 
-At The Manor Moat. 
 
 3S9 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 AT THE MA^Olt MOAT. 
 
 «y'a":gCtL"Ma,:„tll'„f7.'''* " ^-'- °'« cent, 
 difforod in every dotal f,,,!' h" ° 7""^ '»'™ ^^''i" 
 It wa, a moaJd ma„o Z, 1 ' f'""™" '''"'"'■' Abbey, 
 typical English s,,„,>o a, F,K ""l 'W™"' ''ouse of the 
 oious rooitl.at iodio.1 all , ,"' 'f', l'"""'' ""'' " oapa- 
 orod chimney stacks „ '^Z^''?"'"''^' ""doluit- 
 «f wallows. It had been b,dl?7l '' •" 8™' ^'""P^'y 
 Seventh, and was abo, "1 ' .t™"" "' """y "'e 
 neighbor, the house of tl e V„ '"* "" J'««ng'.W.od 
 and it had never served ny o^ .eT' "* "'"^"" ^O-'don, 
 Englishmen of jjood renl ' t.^"?°T "'"" *° "'""""^ 
 Bosworth fleld-a pair of i ' ,■" ' ,'"""• *°"™''"-' "' 
 -word, and a battered helmet f?. ''"'^-^'^*''' " two-handed 
 .the low-oeiled hal'l tft e^d'on^ «':™ney-„ieee 
 but a memory when the Manor ir ' "'"' ''"•■ «s 
 
 Bosworth a slumberons plee lad T,,™ ""■'"■ ^f- 
 «nd mthe stillness ofthisCJ'f'f™,™ "'" '""d, 
 every bloak wind by surro, ndtt , f"^'' '^''"^'"""^ ^'""^ 
 «.-e peaoefnl years th g^^^^^f „ ' J ™? ™"» J and in 
 grown mto a settled beantv tl IT , 1! ^'"" ^1°"* '>ad 
 ef a eonntry seat whierti' T , > " "l""' ''"™«"» 
 ^'«nity, or of expensive fwli" '""" f ""''"eetural 
 oarved stone. Plain, e^mt" t itb k "T"'^ ^"* »" 
 stone millions to iowerrowM !,,''' """■' ■''"<' 1»»'7 
 "ood in the midst ol^lden ™t"' "" '^f™°^ ^"-i 
 
 ^ " ' such as the modern million- 
 
 ir 
 
i b 
 
 360 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 aire may long for, but which only the gray old gardener 
 Time can create. 
 
 There was more than a mile of yew hedge, eight feet 
 high, and three feet broad, walling in flower garden and 
 physic garden, the latter the 8iieciai care of the house- 
 mothers of previous generations, the former a paradise of 
 those old flowers which bloom and breathe sweet odors in 
 the pages of Shalcespere and jeweled the verse of Milton. 
 The f ritellary here opened its dusky spotted petals to drink 
 the dews of May ; and here, against a wall of darkest green, 
 daffodils bloomed unruffled by March winds. 
 
 Verily, a garden of gardens ; but when Angela came 
 there in the chill February there were no flowers to welcome 
 her, only the long, straight walks between those walls of 
 yew, and the dark shining waters of the moat and the fish- 
 poxid, reflecting the winter sun ; and over all the scene a 
 quiet as of the grave. 
 
 A little colony of old servants had been left in the house, 
 which had escaped confiscation, albeit the property of a 
 notorious Malignant, perhaps chiefly on account of its in- 
 significance, the bulk of the estate having been sold by 
 Sir John in '44, when the king's condition was waxing des- 
 perate, and money Avas worth twice its value to those who 
 clung to hope, and were ready to sacrifice their last jacobus 
 in the royal cause. The poor little property, shrunk to a 
 home-farm of ninety acres, a humble homestead, and tlie 
 Manor Hoase may have been thought hardly worth selling ; 
 or Sir John's rights may have been respected out of regard 
 for his son-in-law, who on the maternal side had kindred 
 in high places under the Commonwealth, a fact of whicli 
 Hyacinth occasionally reminded her husband, telling him 
 that he was by hereditary instinct a rebel and a king-slayer. 
 The farm had been taken to by Sir John's steward, a 
 man who in politics was of the same easy tem-per as the 
 Vicar of Bray in religion, and who was a staunch Crom- 
 
At The Manor Moat. 
 
 361 
 
 well an so long as Oliver or Richard «at at Whitehall or 
 would have tossed up his cap and cheered fo Monk Z 
 Captain-General of Great Britain had he heen callo^ , 
 to till his fields and rear his stock unlrTn7m.r ^ 
 potism. It mattered little to any man ti /at Z nt 
 
 u ed in rr^'^'i "'^^^ ^''''' ^'"^' - cfniinonwe L 
 luled m London so long as tliere was a ready market .t 
 
 Aylesbury or Thame for all the farm could pLTuetd 
 oiv^l war planted neither drake nor culverin o'n ti uSf 
 The old servants had vegetated as best they might in the 
 red house, their wage of the Bc-mfw^^ • 1 , ^ ; i- 
 
 within familiar waits was It f; ^o uX^" t 
 world wliich l,„d „o „„gd „f ti """ '" '■"•" tl'rongh a 
 
 of tho housohoia had scr^::;:., fo , iTho^r t 
 
 tlle gray-hairedcoolc was still in her klt,.hM,-h„ni^',, 
 atiU wept over his pantr,, whoro a t "jrlt" i^*/ 
 and one battered tankard of Iloriot's make, wore a tw 
 romamed of that store of gold and silver whill! l!, i 
 Ms pride forty years ago, w1.on Chari::"7b ^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 h.s fair French bride, and old Tham™ „t T > 
 alight with .reworks ;nd torll't^ a veC^^^^^^^ 
 and singing, as the city welcomed its younl Tnl T^ 
 when Reuben Holden was a lad in the mnti Z ' . 
 P.isha.lver or a goblet, and sorely ^^^ 
 
 Reuben, and Marjory, the old cook, famous in her day as 
 any cordx)n-bleu, were the sole representatives of the In! 
 respeetab^ household ; but a couple of stout wlchesrd 
 been hired from the cluster of laborers' hovr.1« fVl . 
 
 itself a village and these had beenrde tl^^^Z 
 had never drudged before in the few days of warndl Y 
 prepared Reuben for his master's return "' ^'™'"^ ^^^^^^ 
 
 Fires had been lighted in rooms where mould anc^ mil 
 dew had long prevailed, wainscots had bc.n scrubho I T^ 
 pohshed till the whole house reeked of brXxtd tur- 
 
 ■ 0. 
 
 m 
 
362 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 pontine, to a degree that almost overpowered those pervad- 
 ing odors of damp and dry rot, which can curiously exist 
 together. The old furniture had been made as bright as 
 faded fabrics and worm-eaten wood could be made by 
 labor, and the leaping light of blazing logs, reflected on 
 the black oak panneling, gave a transient air of cheerful- 
 ness to the spacious dining-parlor Avhere Sir John and his 
 daughter took their first meal in the old home. And if to 
 Angela's eye, accustomed to the Italian loftiness of the 
 noble mansions on the Thames, the broad oak crossbeams 
 seemed coming down upon her head, there was at least 
 an air of homely snugness in the low darkly colored room. 
 At that first evening there had been much to interest 
 and engage her. She had the old house to explore, and 
 dim childish memories to recall. Here was the room where 
 her mother died, the room in which she herself had first 
 seen the light —perhaps not until a month or so after her 
 birth, since the seventeenth century baby was not flung 
 open-eyed into her birthday sunshine, but was swaddled and 
 muffled in a dismal apprenticeship to life. The chamber 
 had been hung with "blacks" for a twelvemonth, Reuben 
 told her, as he escorted her over the house and unlocked 
 the doors of disused rooms. The tall bedstead Avith its 
 red and yellow stamped velvet curtains and carved ebony 
 posts looked like an Indian temple. One might expect to 
 see Buddha squatting on the embroidered counterpane— 
 the work of half a lifetime. When the curtains were 
 drawn back, a huge moth flew out of the darkness, and spun 
 and wheeled round the room with an awful humming 
 noise, and to the superstitious mind might have suggested 
 a human soul embodied in this phantasmal grayness, with 
 power of sound in such excess of its bulk. 
 
 " Sir John never used the room after her ladyship'*? 
 death," Reuben explained, "though it's the best bed- 
 chamber. He has always slept in the blue room, which is 
 
At The Manor Moat. 
 
 3^3 
 
 and it i, eighty pretty in JZer" *""'''™ ™'"' 
 
 be bridgedove?; thafa i; rr!'-"' ™"''"«»-» '» 
 June and the ro es c„, 1,1 '"^"l ?'""' '» "ross; before 
 
 them the m mo' of " 1 ™"'' "«""'' ''™S"'8 '"* 
 
 lived undeTrUpo:, If"' r' "'" '"^'^ *^''«' 
 -ben they had satTn h e"^ „1™;T^*''T»»S^ 
 
 terrace, pausing now and the 121 Z, J V "^ *''' 
 
 ste'^r ''JT ""' - ^' - *° ™'* '™-t 
 
 SayesCo7r::;S hrharpef'tsotf '*^'""' "' 
 Pareham and Henriette. ^ excursion with 
 
 " I hope madam hkes the plnmKn- „„ i. 
 
 W P^' the CM .an sai., a^s^: sT^!^^ I^^^^^^^^^^ '^^ 
 
 bnt no donhJJllf It^^^^^^^^^ — r ; 
 
 a^rerir^^^^^^ ;^'"the hot: 
 
 the hussy, with nTalt" it;:. """ ""^""^^- ^'" ^^"^ 
 
 ^^Nay, pray Mr. Reuben, no harshno.. Qi • 
 ing, kind-hearted girl, and we ZfT]' f '' ^ '''"- 
 for her in this big house ^1!^^ ^^'^^^ "^ ^^^^ 
 
 '' Oh +T. ' V ^ ^^'^^'^ '^re so few servants " 
 
 , Oh, there's work enough, for sure if slie'll Z • ^^ 
 IS no fine city madam tliat will scream afslbf f ' ""^ 
 belike. " ^ ^^ sight of a mouse, 
 
 ;;Ske is a girl I ],ad out of Oxfordshire.- 
 
 Kbin^';;^.; T ;r'' "' r' ^^^-^^^»-^ f-^m his wd. 
 
 K. e.r,„t,e, 1 dare swear she s a frood my] T 1, .^ 
 London trash ; and I think the grerti?;L/r: C 
 
3^4 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 ii4 
 
 a blessing in disguise if it had swept away most of such 
 trumpery." 
 
 " Oh, sir, if a Romanist were to say as much as that,** 
 said Angela, laughing. 
 
 ** Oh, madam, I am not one of they fools that say be- 
 cause half London was burnt the papishes must have set it 
 on fire. What good would the burning of it do 'em, poor 
 souls ? And now they are to pay double taxes, as if it was 
 a sure thing their fagots kindled the blaze. I know how 
 kind and sweet a soul a papish may be, though she do 
 worship idols ; for I had the honor to serve your ladyship's 
 mother from the hour ishe first entered this house till the 
 day I smuggled the French priest by the back stairs to 
 carry her the holy oils. Ah, she was a noble and a lovely 
 lady. Madam's eyes are of her color ; and, indeed, madam 
 favors her mother more than my Lady Fareham does." 
 
 " Have you seen Lady Fareham of late years ? " 
 
 " Ay, madam, she came here in her coach and six the 
 summer before the pestilence, with her two beautiful 
 children, and a party of ladies and gentlemen. They rode 
 here from his grace of Buckingham's new mansion by the 
 Thames. — Cliefden, I think they call it ; and they do say 
 his grace do so lavish and squander money in the building 
 of it that belike he will be ruined and dead before his 
 palace be finished. There were three coaches full with 
 servants and what not. And they brought wine, and 
 capons ready dressed, and confectionery, and I helped to 
 serve a collation for them in the garden. And after they 
 had feasted merrily, with a vast quantity of sparkling 
 French wine, they all rushed through the house like mad- 
 caps, laughing and chattering regular French magpies, for 
 there was more of 'em French than English, her ladyship 
 leading them, till she comes to the door of this room, and 
 finds it locked, and she l)egins to thump upon the panels 
 like a spoilt child, and calls, ' Reuben, Reuben, what is 
 
At The Manor Moat. 
 
 lost of such 
 
 365 
 
 wine, and 
 
 your mystery ? Sure tl.is mnat bo the ghost chamber 
 Open open, mstantly.' And I answered her oS v 
 "Tis the ehambor where that sweet angel, yonr adysS 
 moAer, lay in state, and it has never been opened to 
 strangers smco she died.' And all in the midsTof h 
 mrth, the dear young lady burst out weeping, and cried 
 
 l^st smile she gave me as if it was yesterday.' And then 
 
 a prayer, with her face close against the door ; and I knew 
 that she was praying for her lady-mother, as the wav 0' 
 
 though It 18 a simple thing, it can do harm, and to mv 
 hmkmg when all the foolishness is taken out of rell"n 
 the warm h and the comfort seem to go too; for I know™ 
 never used tofeel abit more comfortable aft r a wo hoTrs' 
 sermon when I was an Anabaptist." 
 1'^''*/?" "°' ™ Anabaptist now, Reuben ?" 
 
 bmulht tl I ° ■! T """" '"^ """Jo'ty'^ restoration 
 Brought the vicar to his own again, and gave us back 
 
 Christmas Day, and the organ, anS tl.; singinglyT" 
 
 Angela's lite at the Manor was so colorless that the first 
 blossoming cf a familiar flower was an event to note and 
 to remember. Life within convent walls would hav been 
 earcely more ranquil or more monotonous. sIr John 
 rode with his hounds three or f -ur times a week or 
 wasabou the field, superintendaifc- tii. farming op'erl 
 tions, walking beside the ploughman as he drove his lur 
 row or watching the scattering .,f ;„, seed. Or Iwa 
 in the narrow woodlands which still belonged to him md 
 Angela, taking her solitary v alk at the close of day, Cd 
 his a.xe ringing through the wi„tr„ „!•■ 
 It was a peaceful, and should have been a pleasant life 
 
366 
 
 When The World Was Younjrcr. 
 
 
 for father and for daughter. Angela told herself that 
 God had been very good to her in providing this safe haven 
 from tempestuous seas, this quiet little world, where tlio 
 pulses of passion beat not ; where existence was like a 
 sleep, a gradual drifting away of days and weeks, marked 
 only by the changing note of birds, the deepening uml)er 
 on the birch, the purpling of beech buds, and the starry 
 celandine shining out of grassy banks that had so lately 
 been obliterated under drifted snow. 
 
 " I ought to be happy," she said to herself, of a morn- 
 ing, when she rose from her knees, and stood looking across 
 the garden to the grassy hills beyond while the beads of 
 her rosary slipped through her languid fingers—" I ought 
 to be happy.'* 
 
 And then she turned from the sunny window with a 
 sigh, and went down the dark echoing staircase to the 
 breakfast parlor, where her own little silver chocolate- 
 pot looked ridiculously small beside Sir John's quart tan- 
 kard, and where the crispy golden rolls, baked in the 
 French fashion by the maid from Chilton, who had been 
 taught by Lord Fareham's chef, contrasted with the chine 
 of beef, and huge farmhouse loaf that accompanied the old 
 October. 
 
 After all his continental wanderings. Sir John had come 
 back to substantial English fare with an unabated relish ; 
 and Angela had to sit down day after day to a huge joint and' 
 an overloaded dish of poultry, and to reassure her father 
 when he expressed uneasiness because she ate so little. 
 
 '* Women do not want much food, sir. Martha's rolls, 
 and our honey, and the conserves old Marjory makes so well 
 are better for me than the meat which suits your heartier 
 appetite." 
 
 "Faith, child, if I played no stouter a part at table than 
 you do, I should soon be fit to play living skeleton at Ayles- 
 bury Fair. And I dubitate as to your diet, loaves and 
 
At The Manor Moat. 
 
 367 
 
 3"7 
 
 smite me to the J.eart biZ l^l^T'"" "y"' *''"' 
 was kind to take you from al^ htp eX'rflJirf "" " ' 
 be mewed up here with a rurty old's oldfe!" *'" '°™' *° 
 
 «e.. you to »l^:^n7 ror:r,; ™^',s /„:e""'' '-' 
 
 kissed the soft brown l,oiv i 1 "^ ^^^"^^ an^^ 
 
 " Sweetheart thuIrt^lTtr''^; "^^ '^"^^^'^• 
 happiness to mo to havfe here "fold™' /'"' " '= 
 w.th so little cunning to read a maidens hlrt/r' "1 
 clear enouo-h to l-r,r^^xr ^-^. ^ ^leart, l can read 
 
 and will not beard thi, old lio't h tl'^S '" °f 
 
 " Dear father, you are all goodness TVn +i 
 one-no one ! I am happy wif h vou I ^^' ' '' ""' 
 the world b«t you, and in a'so Zl iess^^^^^ T? ^" 
 
 my sister and her children - ^""^ ''^ ^^^'^ 
 
 =s : "ktZefonXt j:° :r :: » ^-"- , «» 
 
 women love: but he has a heit'of " ,71,3 Z't """"f 
 
3(58 When The, World Was Younger. 
 
 " She is foolish to talk of services I would have given an 
 wilhngly to a sick beggar," Angela answered, impatiently. 
 
 Her face was still hidden against her fatlier's breast • 
 but she lifted her head presently, and the pale calmness of 
 her countenance reassured him. 
 
 " Well, it is uncommon strange," ho said, ''if one so fair 
 has no sweetheart among all the sparks of Whitehall," 
 
 ''Lord Fareham hates Whitehall. We have only at- 
 tended there at great festivals, when my sister's absence 
 would have been a slight upon her Majesty and the 
 Duchess." 
 
 ** But my star, though Seldom shining there, should have 
 drawn some satellites to her orbit. You see, dearest, I 
 can catch the note of court flattery. Xay, I will press no 
 questions. My girl shall choose her own partner ; provided 
 the man is honest and a loyal servant of the king, her old 
 father shall set no obstacle in the high-road to her happi- 
 ness. What right has one who is almost a pauper to stipu- 
 late for a wealthy son-in-law ? " 
 
 CHAPTER XXni. 
 
 
 PATIENT JTOT PASSIONATE. 
 
 The quiet days went on, and the old Cavalier settled 
 down into a tranquil happiness which comforted his 
 daughter with the feeling of duty prosperously fulfilled. 
 To make this dear old man happy, to be his companion 
 and friend, to share in his rides and rambles, and of an 
 evening to play the games he loved, on the old shovel-board 
 in the hall, or an old-fashioned game at cards, or back- 
 gammon, be-side tho fire in the paneled parlor, reconciled 
 
Patient Not Passionate. 
 
 3^ 
 
 a powerfurS-or thlT, &«,„?", *""/'"«'• ^"'"^ 
 were f Oni r.f a *"^^^ four-footed friends 
 
 b.rdn„„and then because Catilirwrto ed oTcl" 
 d,sobed.en Tl.ey stood sentinel on each sSo, ZsolZ 
 at dinner, hke supporters to a coat-of-arms An^l^ i 
 her own particular favorite in a Ki„ J ^l, i' ^^ '""' 
 was the very dog which tad Lt g ee W hetint '''I' " 
 of the plagne-strieken house. She l,a^ chosen T'" 
 
 the canine troupe when her aistt^'l e^ / rgift^ 
 
 s:ie:ir;z':^£,?rT"h''''"^^"- '»*"'=' 
 
 ^^ TT °,{°""?^^ ^^^^^1 *^Js, wliich was over five years old 
 J\ay but snch partings must come. I love this on„ 
 
 ^^r..u hope. When my .'::L7Jt:j::j:;z 
 
 "Poor Pareham! Did you desire every dos in the 
 
 i.u nv..x. mtj- pounds apiece~you have a rifrhi +« •, 
 thena. But, indeed, I would rath'er y::^:^^^ 
 
370 
 
 1 
 
 
 ]•■ ■ ' I 
 
 I!.. 
 
 "•iij I, . 
 
 ilf 
 
 \ i. 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 t.rm^.f""''^'- '"'-■' ''"' »' -"-. «^ou lite 
 
 Angela held by hor first choice, and Ganymede w»» the 
 
 co„,,,anu,n of all hor hours, walked and lived with hcT, Z 
 
 sleptonasam cushion at the foot of her spacious four 
 
 -ost bed and fretted and whined if sh. left'hi J " ,„t „ 
 
 an empty room for half-an hour : yet with all his refine- 
 
 ments and h.s a,r of being as dainty a gentleman as any 
 
 park of qua ,ty, ho had a gross passion for the kitchen 
 
 and aftern,bbl„,gsweetcakes delicately „„t of his mistrS 
 aper ngers, he would rush through a l^bj.inth ot^.J^L, 
 and find l™ way to the ,h„g-tah, and there to wallow in 
 8 ash and broker v.etnals, till he had all but drowned Wm- 
 Bolt ma Hood of pot-Iiquor. It was hard to reconcile™ 
 much beauty and gra... , ,ch eloquent eyes and saL coat! 
 with tastes and desir, :. ,,„ , nigar ; and Angela sighed over 
 
 te?t 7„ " ' TfT """='" ""» *° "-' g-asyfnd pen" 
 
 Oh tranquil duteous life, how fair it might have seemed 
 as sprmg advanced, and the garden smiled'with Ihe Tom: 
 se of summer; were it not for that aching sense of loss 
 
 !nd3d r "" '' "''"' "'''""' ""O" "" ">"'g« s^y 
 
 Yes, she knew now, fully realizing as she had never done 
 b fore, how long and how utterly her life had been in! 
 fluenced by an affection which even to contemplate JL 
 mortal sm Yet to extinguish memory was not within Z 
 power. She looked back and remembered how his pr!! 
 ecting love had enfolded her with its gentle warmth! in 
 those happy days at Chilton; how all she knew of books 
 and of ethics and philosophy, had been learnt from him. 
 She recalled l„s evident delight in opening the rich treasures 
 of ammd which he had never ceased to cultivate, even 
 amidst the vicissitudes of a soldier's life, in making her 
 
Patient Not Passionate. 
 
 Jma been r'; tl 1" mrt'l T ," ' "'"■: '""^ '"=»"'" ''« 
 
 of the .,i,i„,n„r;;tr:L" ::;;-: ,:;^^^^ «■" 
 
 some chance revelation of the infi ll ""^^ '*' 
 
 reminded her of his unbdilf. " "'"^^ ^"*'^°^ *^^ 
 
 There is u t assago in Cowley's -Com.,I-iinf " , i • i 
 often reeurreu to her amidst her'thouitTof 't;hamr' 
 
 i^nou ga^ st^, 'l-'Patmc-ture of thine own 
 Tlmt eversincv I vainlv try ' 
 
 To wash away tli' inherent dye." 
 
 how once when Zt^M^.'Zll'TT' "' '"'"^'^' ' 
 laborer ju„,pi,„ „p .:,/ ^ ^l ban 'T'";: ' """ " 
 »i.Ie, hadstartlvd the animal ,ml , u ^ ""^ "''"«'- 
 than ever h„,.„ had relr Jw!b T , ^ ""' ■"»'"=■• 
 face had whitened wL ZaI kar th, '?"' ''■""'"""'' 
 horsemanshin thougli she ^T ''""' """'"^ •" 
 
 Yes, his iuve had been rnmwi i. tt 
 
 and .he had been o^.^:^^^'^Z:T'°''''''' 
 mg affection wa« hers. On her mrtlw ! "'at nnquest,„„. 
 doubt nor foar. It seemed t,! '"'"'""• *""' '"=<'" "either 
 world that ho shou d o^ "t ""'"'i" *'''"« '» *e 
 Affinity had made thLloth'-aJlr' "'?,"' '"™- 
 had been together in sielcness "m, i' perU „ JeaTh T ''ll 
 betrue.ashehim ,Jfhadaffirn,P,1 tLVi , ^'""ight 
 
 had saved his life ; sinee ins tWhl r.'° '"'^ arrival 
 
 «reofhisattendantsa,ttp;ie^^^^^^^^^ 
 have been the crisis of l,is dL\^o Tr "" "'" """^ 
 
 He had perhaps little otarmTlnf ™ ""' """''^°'""- 
 the modern stLdard i^tweh tCX," e'Xl """ 
 courier were enlivened by the ahy graeef :f the Pari^iX 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 k 
 
 A 
 
 ^/ 
 
 A 
 
 A 
 
 
 .sr^%^ 4 
 
 
 <^ 
 
 (/. 
 
 7a 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 u 
 
 IL25 i 1.4 
 
 2.2 
 
 2.0 
 
 m 
 
 1.6 
 
 V] 
 
 <^ 
 
 /2 
 
 / 
 
 
 
 ¥ 
 
 %>' . '-'y 
 
 W 
 
 Phntngranhic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 \ 
 
 \\ 
 
 \ 
 
 
^ .<i 
 
 ..V 
 
 4^^ 
 
 <i 
 
 '^ 
 
 fel 
 
 /., 
 
 ^ 
 
m ?. 
 
 i'*' 
 
 I}. '■ j 'i 'I 
 
 1 1 
 
 '"I 
 
 f >A 
 
 I 
 
 372 
 
 When The World Was Youns:er. 
 
 But how far more moving than those flowery eomplimenta 
 and empty gallantries o^cred to her in London had been 
 one kind look from nnder those dark brooding brows, or 
 the flash of a sudden smile illuminating a countenance 
 habitually severe. 
 
 Well, it was past — the exquisite bliss, the unconscious 
 sin, the confidence, the danger. All had vanished into 
 the grave of irrecoverable days. 
 
 She had beard nothing from Denzil since she left London, 
 nor had she acknowledged his letter. Her silence had 
 doubtless angered him, and all was at an end between them 
 and this was what he wished. Hyacinth and her children 
 were at Chilton, whence came letters of complaining against 
 the dullness of the country, where his lordship hunted four 
 times a week, and spent all the rest of his time in his 
 library, appearing only ''at our stupid heavy meals ; and 
 that not always, since on his hunting days he is far afield 
 when I have to sit down to the intolerable two o'clock din- 
 ner, and nuike a pretence of eating — as if anybody with 
 more intellectuals than a sheep could dine ; or as if appe- 
 tite came by staring at green fields ! You remember how 
 in London supper was the only meal I ever cared for. 
 There is some grace in a repast that comes after conversa- 
 tion and music, or the theater, or a round of visits— a table 
 dazzling with lights, and men and women ready to amuse, 
 and be amused. But to sit down in broad daylight, when 
 one has scarce swallowed one's morning chocolate, and 
 face a sweltering sirloin, or open a smoking veal pie ! 
 Indeed, dearest, our whole method of feeding smacks of a 
 vulgar brutishness, more appropriate to a company of 
 Topinambous than persons of quality. Why, oh, why 
 must these reeking hetacombs load our tables ; when they 
 might as easily bo kept out of sight upon a buffet ? The 
 spectacle of huge mountains of meat, the steam and 
 odor of rank boiled and roast under one's very nostrils-. 
 
Patient Not Passionate. 373 
 
 change appetite to nausea, and would induce a delicate 
 
 Mais je ne fais que divugner ; and almost forget whTt^i 
 was I was so eanjest to tell thee when I began n'y lit. 
 SirDenzil A\arnerhas been over here, his ostensible 
 
 that his actual purpose was to hear of you. I told him 
 how happy your simple soul has accommodated itself to an 
 almost conventual seclusion, and a very inferior style of 
 
 o the skies.^ ^TV.uld that she could accommodate her- 
 Belt to my nouse as easily,' he said; 'she should have 
 every indulgence that an adoring husband could yield her 
 And then he said much more, but as lovers ahvays sing 
 the same repetitive song, and have no more strLs to 
 their lyrethan the ancients had before Arion, I con el 
 not listening over carefully, and will leave yoli to imagine 
 the eloquence of a manly and honorable love. Ah, sweet- 
 heart ! you do wrong to reject him. Thou hast a quiet 
 soothing prettiness of thine own. but art no bla.ing^t.^ 
 ofb auty,like tne Stewart, to bring. kingto thyfeft-he 
 ^ould have married her if poor Catherine had not disap- 
 po nted him by her recovery, and to take a duke as pis aller. 
 Believe me love, it were wise of you to become Lady 
 lUrner, with a fine unmortgaged estate, and a husband 
 who m these Eepublican times, may rise to distinction. 
 
 h.ZI7 "f\ '"■"''' "^"'"^' ' "^'^ '' ^-'« - steadfast, 
 ligtly''^ "''''' '° respectable, should not be discarded 
 
 Over^ all these latter passages iu her sister's letter, 
 Angela s eye ran with a scornful carelessness. Her wom' 
 anly pride revolted at such petty schooling-that she should 
 be bidden accept this young man gratefully because ho 
 was her_ only suitor. Xo one else had ever cared for her 
 pale insignificance. She looked at her clouded ima-e iu 
 
t'l: 
 
 ji ; 
 
 *t*^-> 
 
 ii'\ 
 
 'J- 
 
 It 
 
 
 
 
 374 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 the oblong glass that hung on the panel above her secre- 
 taire, and whose reflections made any idea of her own looks 
 rather speculative than precise. It showed her a thoughtful 
 face, too pale for beauty j yet she could but note the har- 
 mony of linos which recalled the Venetian type Jamiliar to 
 her eye in the Titians and Tintorets at Fareham House. 
 
 '' I doubt I am good-looking enough for any one to be 
 satisfied with the outward semblance who valued the soul 
 within," she thought as she turned from the glass with a 
 mournful sigh. 
 
 It was not of Benzil she was thinking, but of that other, 
 who in slow contemplative days in the library where he 
 had taught her what books she ought to love, and where 
 she might never more enter, must naturally sometimes re- 
 member her, and cast one backward thought to the hours 
 they had spent together. 
 
 Hyacinth's letter of matronly counsel was but a week 
 old when Sir John surprised his daughter one morning, as 
 they sat at table, by the announcement of a visitor to 
 stay in the house. 
 
 '' You will order the west room to be got ready, Ang* 
 and bid Marjory Cook serve us some of her savoriest 
 dishes while Sir Denzil stavs here." 
 " Sir Denzil ! " 
 
 " Yes, ma mie. Sir Denzil ! Ventregris, the girl stares 
 as if I had said Sir Bevis of Southampton, or Sir Guy of 
 Warwick. I knew this young gentleman's father before 
 the troubles— an honest man though he took the wrono- 
 side. He paid for his perversity with his life ; so we'll say 
 requiescat. The young man is a fine young man, whom I 
 would fain have something nearer to me than he is. So 
 at a hint from your sister I have asked him to bring his 
 fishing tackle and whip our streams for a May trout or two. 
 Ho may catch a finer fish than a trout, perlups Avhile he is 
 a fishing, if yon. will be his guide through the meadows/ 
 
 
Patient Not Passionate. 3^^ 
 
 " Father, how could you " 
 
 -^^^'^i:ZT:^ri^- ^-ho- it told 
 
 Bi^ I was thinking of tl^efonvr', T '""'"' """ ''"'''»<I, 
 don/ while here «*„„,"' "'''™ ^°" ™""-' '» I^™" 
 meet in a day's march si^hi !!"',' f ■'""* "^ """ '™"''l 
 
 pale distressed look tint v„„„i i , , ™ff""' *'"' a 
 
 'ho knight had his f c r hrt 1 'T °''™"'"'^-' »>»' 
 0.... to pu ,,„ „,,„-■;; ^;-,^t™kard, and set it down 
 
 hooded. Well, the yo. rj ".u ^ ' 1 """l ^^"''"™» *- 
 Iwould not force yonrncMntn ''^ ''«';'' l'eforoevea^„g. 
 
 desireof myhearttoseo Ih^™^^ "" '■' '^ ""= 'I™™' 
 And aman of honor, CZ^l-ZltTT '"'""^ ^ "'»• 
 IS not to bo slighted " handsomest fortune, 
 
 ^^ Angola's spirit rose against this rocnrrenoe of horsister-s 
 
 sne said resol utely. ""^'^^ *''^^ ^ can help. " 
 
 " WJiy, what a vixen ' Ar...r i 
 for that angry flush Th. t?' '^' ^^'''' '' '^^ «eed 
 
 plague you\'th utvell, S;r''^ ^? ^"^ --toons to 
 don at the tennis court and I T- ^ ''''' ^""^ "^ '^^^' 
 
 father^s .e.o.y, kZl;:!^::;:^;;^^"-''" ''' ''' 
 son-in-law. He is i fl„„ Zi , '" "^°'"'« to bo mv 
 
 toa man. Ii; o^V r.fS'' 'f "»' ^J-I «.™e, and l 
 
 70U please to treathimSdX'r '""■''' "7, '"'""' ""d » 
 indeed, I wonder as rmTl "}' f"""' ''"'P "• ""t, 
 -t roeiproeate this ge"nt,l:nCr,f ^ ""^ ^°" ^'>°""' 
 
 corner ;:„?rbereXrh'td;t;^ r '"™ "'etirst 
 
 ''^'-hiMMhadsee..i:7;::ro;:'ren;ef„r« 
 
mu\ 
 
 h 
 
 ■I 
 
 p i 
 
 
 miti 
 
 ?.( ' 
 
 3;^ 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 I mot your mother. Slie came over in '35 with the mar- 
 quise, who had boon hidy of lienor to Queen Marie before 
 the Princess Ilenriette married our king, and the Queen 
 Ilenrietto was fond of her and invited her to come to Lon- 
 don, and she divided her life between the two countries 
 till the troubles, when she was one of the first to scamper 
 off, as you know. My wife was little more than a child 
 when I saw her at court hiding behind her mother's large 
 sleeves. I had seen handsomer women ; but she was the 
 first whose face went straight to my heart, and it has dwelt 
 there ever since,'' he concluded, Avith a sudden break in 
 his voice. 
 
 "Then you can comi')rehend, dear sir, that a man may 
 be honorable and courteous, and handsome, and yet not win 
 a woman's love." 
 
 " Ah, it is not the man ; it is love that should win, sweet- 
 heart. Love is wortliy of love. When that is true coin it 
 should buy its reward. Indeed I have rarely seen it other- 
 wise. Love begets love. Louise dela Valliere is not the 
 handsomest woman at the French court. Her complexion 
 has suffered from smallpox, and she has a defective gait ; 
 but the king discovered so fond and romantic attachment 
 to his person, a love ashamed of loviug, the very poetry of 
 affection ; and chat discovery made him her slave. The 
 court beauties — sultanas splendid as Vashti — look on in 
 angry wonder. Louise is adored because she began by 
 adoring. jMind, I do not praise or excuse her, for 'tis a 
 mortal sin to love a married man, and steal him from his 
 wife. Foolish child, how your cheek crimsons ! I do 
 wrong to shock your innocence with my babble of king's 
 mistresses." 
 
 Denzil arrived at sunset, on horseback, with a mounted 
 servant in attendance, carrying his saddlebags and flsli- 
 ing tackle. It Avas but a short day's ride from Oxford. 
 Fareham's rides with the hounds must have brought him 
 
Patient Not Passionate. 3^^ 
 
 more than one nf ho,, i^+j. , sihtcr a visit in 
 
 or bad wmtlior, or a fit, „ft ?""'"'""'>' »' l>»me, 
 had been u, m ,",,!„ " ^"P'"-«-'o timt tl,o dsters 
 
 Yorkshire oJCtXtL'''^ " *"" ""■- '■»"»-- 
 
 u";'p;;ri;::;:-^'l"r„::..:;;: """^"-^ -" «■"'-• 
 
 aho had complained ve ;i,T 77' T" """'«'' 
 »o lively and'aetive wl.-'une 1 " !"'"'"'',^'"' '""1 •«=o» 
 with hawk and houn, v i^ H'o wlnn, took her, riding 
 driving into O.fo "i ' .f^tr f ^-g'-borhoodf 
 ments were of the sn rit, o ,T? , , ' "'"'""" '»■'■ »"- 
 which most fine iad £ t,: Xol" t,°' "'f ? '"-"^'"^ *» 
 i"g-3tones and oil lamp." e .If^r "'»"'"■"' ''"'■ 
 ..pon discarding her nickname- „t;'thure «"''•'' 
 London, and missed her atmt soreil . """" '» 
 
 mademoiselle, who tos „a nfnl /'• /"' ''""'"''^"^ >>■''"> 
 "peech and manner! Spe ''"f ^ " "" l'°'"'» »' 
 idleness were also endedt U e 11»'? "f ."r""^^'' 
 was now a resident in the house as irt^to" f" ''"'"' 
 
 ms Ilenrietto the rudim^,,*. V ' ^'""''™ ^'Wh- 
 
 mother's religion. ' «»d n.strnoting her in her 
 
 Ab":;:tra'hrm:te';.:',:tr^ 'r i-^^-^' ■" ">^ 
 
 till Sir John questioned hta. ""'' '"' ''''^ ^P^^" "»*. 
 
 '' And Fareham ? Has hp +1,.,^ 
 Ing to the family which I , L^rfccHf 1 '" '' ^^ '^^^^^"^- 
 " His lordship has ever an at of ] '"^ ^^°"^^^ " '' 
 
 body." Den.ilLs.erI ^L / '"ifjfl-^- --^- 
 his sports and his indoor iLTmostlvhT''^''^'^^'^ 
 ''Ah, those books, they will bTf^ '1 '^ ' ^°«^-" 
 
 books multiply .real ZiJ u '^ '""' ^^ "'-^^^""'^ ? As 
 
 tipi^, gieat actions will grow less. Life's golden 
 
^fffw 
 
 ijwnw f. TTfi 
 
 H i 
 
 Jp 
 
 111' ' ' 
 
 378 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 liours will be w.-istcd in drciiniing over the fancies of dead 
 men ; and the world will be over-full of brooding philos- 
 ophers like Descartes, or pamphleteers like vour friend 
 Mr. Milton." 
 
 '' Nay, sir, the world is richer for such a man aa John 
 Milton, who has composed the grandest poem in our lan- 
 guage—an epic on a scale and subject as sublime as the 
 Divine Comedy of Dante." 
 
 " I never saw Mr. Dante's comedy acted, and confess my- 
 self ignorant of its merits." 
 
 " Comedy, sir, with Dante, is but a name. The Italian 
 poem is an epic and not a play. Mr. Milton's poem will 
 be given to the world shortly, though, alas, ho will reap 
 little substantial reward for the intellectual labor of 
 years. Poetry is not a marketable commodity in England, 
 unless it take the vulgaror form of a stage-play. But this 
 poem of Mr. Milton's has been the solace of his darkened 
 life. You have heard, perhaps, of his blindness ?" 
 
 *' Yes, he had to forego his office as Latin Secretary to 
 that villain. To my mind the decay of sight was a judg- 
 ment upon him for having written against his murdered 
 king, even to denial of his majesty's own account of his 
 sufferings. But I confess that even if the man had been a 
 loyal subject, I have little admiration for that class, scrib- 
 blers and pamphleteers, brooders over books, crouchers in 
 the chimney-corner, who have never trailed a pike or slept 
 under the open sky. And seeing this vast increase of 
 book-learning and the arising of such men as Ilobbes— to 
 question our religion, and Milton to assail monarchy— I can 
 but believe those who say that this old England has taken 
 the downward bent ; that as we are dwindling in stature 
 so we are decaying in courage and capacity for action." 
 
 Denzil listened respectfully to the old man's disquisitions 
 over his morning drink ; while Eeuben stood at the side- 
 board carving a ham or a round of powdered beef • and 
 
 ii'^iii^:. J: 
 
Patient Not rassionatc. 
 
 Angola sipped lior chocolate out of tho nv.ff 
 cup whic]. ir,acint]. hud bou J f^ , \t't, ^ .'nr r'^ 
 eliunge, where curiosities from Chn-'d^ ^1 ^'"■ 
 t^ons from Paris .ere always ob.L^l 'if '"^'"^" 
 seen anvwhcro cU^ at^.+i ■ , , "'° ^"^'3' ^^'-'^'e 
 
 fr,., ], -<• ^iii-iHihinp as tlu'v had einovcd jit T'liJi 
 
 Apart from tlie question of love and m.,,-..; i, ■ 
 ence was in no m-.nnn.. ,"' °^^.^"^ "^'"■'•^'ige, his pros, 
 aa lu no manner displeasiiiff to her • imlno.i fi,„ 
 long days m that sequestered valley Lt so neth i o 'tl 
 
 Sirr::?^~-r--om^^^^^^ 
 
 she had not rerht: hid^f^ l'^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^"^^ ''''-' 
 of his education and the hZ./T r ! ^''"'^'^^^^ess 
 his ideas upon almost 00,^^' ^ v'' ^"'""^^ 
 
 l.»ustible riches of tho Elizabotha,,. ""' "'" """" 
 
 missed the melodv of ];no« "'.''*, J-)eidas, and have 
 
 Tn +1,0/ . -^ "^^ ^^ musical as the mVhtin^ralp 
 
 in that great poem of which hp hnri k ".'^."^^"igaie. 
 
 tn^sonhe „a„^, the ..J'^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 a t ' h:irt;:X"of tf"'" "-'"^^^ -" ^^^^ 
 
 ^u uie splendor of the verse, He was more ijn- 
 
3^o 
 
 When The World Was Younffcr. 
 
 i i 
 
 ;* » 
 
 pressed by the schoohnaster's learnin.i,' tliun by that God- 
 ,^iveii geniuH wliich ViUod tluit one Eii<;lishnian above every 
 other of liis age and (lountry. Xo, Iio was eminently 
 prosaic, had sneked i)ro.se and ])lain-thinking from his 
 mother's breast ; bnt he was not the less an agi'eeal)le eom- 
 piuuon for a girl npon whoso yonth an unnatnral solitnde 
 had begnn to weigh heavily. 
 
 All that o!ie mind can impart to another of a widely 
 dilferent fiber, Denzil had learnt from Milton in that most 
 impressionable period of boyhood which he had spent in 
 the small house in llolborn, whoso back rooms looked out 
 over the verdant spaces of Lincoln's Inn Fields, Avhero 
 Lord Newcastle's palace had not yet begun to rise 
 from its foundations, and Avhere the singing birds had not 
 been scared away by the growth of the town. A theater 
 now stood whore the boy and a fellow-scholar had played 
 trap and ball, and the stately houses of Queen Street hard 
 by were alive with rank and fashion. 
 
 In addition to the classical curriculum which Milton had 
 taught with the solemn earnestness of one in Avhom learn- 
 ing is a religion, Denzil had acquired a store of miscella- 
 neous knowledge from the great Republican ; and most 
 interesting among these casual instructions had been the 
 close acquaintance with nature gained in the course of 
 many a rustic ramble in the country lanes beyond Gray's 
 Inn, or sauntering eastward along the banks of the limpid 
 Lea, or by Sir Ilngh ^[iddlcton's river. Mixed with plain 
 facts about plant or flower, animal or insect, Milton's 
 memory was stored with the quaint absurdities of the her- 
 metic philosophy, that curious mixture of deep-reaching 
 theories and old women's superstitions, the experience of 
 the peasant transmuted by the imagination of the adept. 
 Sound and practical as the poet had ever shown himself— 
 save where passion got the upper hand of common sense, 
 as in his advocacy of divorce— he was yet not entirely free 
 
Patient Not rassionatc. 35^ 
 
 '!-■ piko, ,u„i that „«;;;■',•""■" '■""''' '•""■■"■ 
 
 b=o„ not the h.H,a,lwl f / """«, '"■'""• I'" ''•■"! 
 tl...t pcriputetio school h.lw<. , , t ,o i H '"""'" '" 
 
 with tho w„„i„g*'„, ^' ,^ '3 ■ "" ''""'ty 'vhi.i, i,„,.i„» 
 
 the end of Jt.ay JlenW ;,;" V '"' "'"' '"'""'""' ^"''""' 
 
 in the b,.h„y„i,.,or ihushlt^tr,/!'''"' ''''''''""' 
 Jewy grasses, tlio life of „]Jtl. V«^ " "mongst tho 
 
 »lmost ,.s pc,;„„al ™, ™, , ; fof""'? ':'"'^'' '"•""''' 
 
 it was difficult to believe ll ;. ''■'"'""'™' ''"'™ 
 
 of joy i„ those rapM ™ w 1 'wWh '7 T"". f ^"■""""^ "^ 
 of dark nndergrovtht p^rd o tf ,°'," ^'■'"" " '»"«'o 
 in the wild vi,°es th t ^ ^g s'„° , ' el: f '''' '"' '"."""™» 
 trunk, covering deeav wi h ? , V""" P^'^rebal 
 
 youth. T,.nj,»:^-iz^t::::r -' 
 XT::;:rr,;t\:r:et"f"'-^^^^^^^ 
 
 marvels of order am hw i' I' '^'''''''^ ^''' "'««« 
 
 sought to be more to her t aThe w ""'" ^^"'^ ^^^'^ 
 
 unobtrusive friend Otr ! T f ""^^"^ respectful, 
 
 going on the:: t hac seaSv 1?" *"-^^-- life 
 that he „.eant t^ stand fo Z e/aUhT;:?p'^*^" ^"' 
 nor lad he alluded to the past rciilt ^^^^'^"^ent ; 
 
 own accord had he sn- t f 1^^"^*°° 5 »or ever of hig 
 cora nad he spo..en Lord Fareham^s name ; indeed 
 
il I 
 
 ■l: 
 
 IrA 
 
 1.^' 
 
 1. 1 1 
 
 If 
 
 I III 
 
 382 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 tliat niiino wii.s ever Htndioiisly avoided by tlicju both ; and 
 if I'c'iuil had iK'vor before suspected Aw^vhi of an uiiliuppy 
 preference for one wliom sho could not love without sin, 
 he might havo had some cause for such suspicion in the 
 ea«,^erncss with which she changed the drift of the conver- 
 sation whenever it a[)i)roac]ied tiiat forbidden subject. 
 
 From this puritanical bringing up, the theory of self- 
 surrender and (lc])rivation ever kept before him, Denzil 
 had assuredly learnt to possess his soul in patience ; and 
 throughout all that smiling month of May, while he whip- 
 peil the capricious streams that wound about the valley, 
 with Angela for the willing companion of his sauntcringa 
 from jwol to pool, he never once alarmed her by any hint 
 of a warmer feeling than friendship; indeed, he thought 
 of himself sometimes as one who lived in an enchanted 
 world, where to utter a certain fatal word would be to 
 break the spell ; and what(!ver momentary impulse or pas- 
 sionate longing, cngeiulercd by a look, a smile, the light 
 touch of a hand, the mere sense of proximity, might move 
 him to speak of his love, he had suHicient self-command 
 to keep the fatal words unspoken, lie meant to wait till 
 the last hour of his visit. Only when separation was im- 
 minent would he plead his cause again. Thus at the worst 
 ho would have lost no happy hours of her comjwny. And, 
 in the meantime, since she was always kind, and seemed 
 to grow daily more familiar and at ease in his society, he 
 dared hope that affection for him and forgetfulness of 
 that other were gj'owing side by side in her mind. 
 
 In this companionship Angela learnt many of the secrets 
 and subtleties of the angler's craft, as accpiired by her 
 teacher's personal exi)erience, or expounded in that de- 
 lightful book, then less than twenty years old, which has 
 ever been the angler's gospel. Often after following the 
 meandering water till a gentle weariness invited them to 
 rest, Angela and Denzil seated themselves on a sheltered 
 
Patient Not Passionate. 
 
 bank and r«ul tlicir r,,,,,,, ii- „ 
 
 *">.„ vol„n,o, l,„ ,,l™ ,,:'''.'' ' ''«"'"■'•• '""1' "<'t of tl,„ 
 
 ■"■;' '" -en. iK,.il;ii":/:';.:,„7' "' """■■'■'" '"-«"^ 
 
 i"o.. trout J,,./;::: \ •• ;;:^^^ ^ 
 
 shadow, with an ,mKlo,.V k J i, '"'"' "'"' '■'"'"'- 
 
 h'^'lf with tiK, man to.,,, r ; '''™'' • "'"" ''^"1 "'""»"1 
 
 Walt,,,,, ,,.,.„,„, Xv ,r .:, ,?r;':;""'''"","""'"- ■"■"» 
 
 sho jTMontod »„,ili„„iv ,„„,.,;'• " ''• "•'<■" '■"".pletod, 
 
 'y so ch,-,di»„ a toy.^^d 1.1 -JX;;;''"'''^ '-•'-■ 
 
 his crnotio,, „s I,c hM n.„ }'' '"',"""<> m sii|i|„,,ssj,|„ 
 
 '-''ls,«"dth,,,,«t,t,rtt •'''''? ""'■" "■^'' """» 
 it, and how much of ,'„.«"■'"" ,*'"'" '""' "'"-'^"^ 
 her, to l,„vo boon on„™,: ,^1 iT""'"' ' "" ''« "■"tchod 
 trivial a thi„g ; but I, ^Tr ; " f " r' , '" """'''" 
 a flower, plucked tli-it ,,,1 T ''''"'' '''"' ''««■'' him 
 
 all hi. lifo ; .,„t I ;,T ;'-,''" 7,'"'' '''■'™ "■-sun.d it 
 work, wa, ar n,o"tl,' °f ,',"'"'' """'' «"-^'f"l 
 of the m„g„„ti«,„ o, ,,' Z T","" ''°''™'"- Son,eti,i„g 
 thread ,!,■„„ .o da , v , ,'""'"' ""» "'" «"very 
 
 thing of the soft 1 *i, ' .:^"' ''T 'T «"S'--«o.n- 
 i-Iended colo,, „f t|,o" ,k 'p' 7? '»'' ."""■" "itl, the 
 
 ''.eg-ostman',i„„:;,i,^t,f',;';;:,:'"'^"'''"'^" 
 
 Sometimes they rr„le witli Sir r j - 
 
 Plored the neigh bi^rho""^ ^^Vf'V''' '''''' ^^- 
 sociations-some of thore.no A. ? ,"' ^"'^"'"'^'^^^ ^'«- 
 
 kept Christmas ut JWII h . ^ ''«"' ^^■^''^^'' ^^''•^'^ '^"I^u 
 
 ;ve participator in that clea.lly C^^^ t^ ^vecl an ac- 
 tlie site of the garrison at liliJ ^ . "^'^^^^d thtm 
 
 the earthworks to demonstrl ' "f^'''^ '''''y ^°°tof 
 - aemonstiate how theiiill had been forti- 
 
384 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 fiod, TIo luul commmuled in the defence against Hamp- 
 den uTid his greencoats— that regiment of foot raised in his 
 l)ustoral Hliire, whose standard bore on one side the watch- 
 word of tlio Parliament, " God with us," and on the other 
 Hampden's own device, " Vestigia nulla retrorsum." 
 
 "'Twas a legend to frighten some of us, who had no 
 Latin," said Sir John, "bui we put his bumpkin 
 green(!oats to the rout, and trampled that insolent flag in 
 the mire." 
 
 All was peaceful now in the hamlet on the hill. Women 
 and children were sitting upon sunny doorsteps, with their 
 pillows on their knees and their bobbins moving quickly 
 in d(!xterou3 fingers, busy at the lace-making which had 
 been established in Buckinghamshire more than a century 
 before by Catherine of Aragon, whose dowry was derived 
 from the revenues of Steeple Claydon. The curate had re- 
 turned to the gray old church, and rural life pursued its slum- 
 berous course scarce ruffled by rumors of maritiniMvar, or 
 plague, or fire. They rode .o Thame— a stage on the jour- 
 ney to Oxford, Angela thought, as she noted the figures on 
 a milestone, and at a flash her memory recalled that scene 
 in the garden by the river, when Fareham had spoken for 
 the first time of his inner life, and she had seen the man 
 behind the mask. She thought of her sister, so fair, so 
 sweet, charming in her capriciousness even, yet not the 
 woman to fill that unquiet heart, or satisfy that somber and 
 earnest nature. It was not by many words that Fareham 
 had revealed himself. Her knowledge of his character and 
 feelings went deeper than the knowledge that words can 
 impart. It came from that constant unconscious study 
 which a romantic girl devotes to the character of the man 
 who first awakens her interest. 
 
 Angela was grave and silent throughout the ride to 
 Thame and the return home, riding for the most part in 
 the rear of the two men, leaving Denzil to devote all his 
 
Patient Not Passionate. 
 
 385 
 
 attention to Sir John, wim has somewhat loqnaoious that 
 
 time whicli the road awalicnod. Denzil listened respect- 
 fully, and went never asiray in his answers, but he ooked 
 baek very often to the solitary rider who k pt at „„,e d f 
 tance to avoid the dnst. 
 
 Sometimes in the early morning they all went with the 
 otter honnds, the knight on l.orsebaek, Den.il ,dA,*ela 
 on foot, and spent two or three very aetivo ho.rs before 
 
 every flash of his bead upon the stream, with ' at brisk 
 nessand active enjoyment which seems a part of tie e ar 
 mornmg atmosphere, the inspiring breath of dewyfl d 
 and flowers nnfaded by tiie sun. All that there wl „? 
 giriishness m Angela's spirits was awakened by those mrrv 
 morning scampers by the margin of the stream, wh ch S 
 often to be forded by the rnimers with bnt little he d of 
 we feet or splashed petticoat. The parson and Iiis dangh 
 ters from the vill.age of St. Nicholas joined in the snort and 
 weremvitedtothe morning drink Ind substa tW bmk- 
 fast afterwards where theyonng Ladies were lost inadmTra- 
 tion of Angela's silver chocolate pot and poreeh icTm 
 while their clerical father owned to'a .V.tJtZ^U IZ- 
 
 mfitt;nm;r '"-" -- °™' "■»^- '-'^^ »"" «'-"»"";;'„ 
 
 as long as I have, miss, you would know what poor stuff 
 yonr ehoeolatc is to fortiiy a man's bones againstC eind 
 henniatism. I am told the Spaniards brought f„om 
 Mexico where the natives eat nothing else, from which 
 comes the copper color of their skins" <"" ™ion 
 
 Denzil's visit Lasted over a month, duriii'. whicii time he 
 rode into Oxfordshire twice to see Lady AV^,™: ' to™ il" 
 
 25 
 
' ! 
 
 r I 
 
 ' "M 
 
 386 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 Sir Jolni derived the utmost pleasure from the young 
 man's conipuny, who bore himself towiirds his host with a 
 respectful courtesy that had gone out of fashion after the 
 murder of the king, and was rarely met with in an age 
 where elderly men were generally spoken of as " old 
 puts," and considered proper subjects for " bubblin"-." 
 
 To Dciizil the old campaigner opened his heart more 
 freely than ho had ever done to anyone except a brother-in- 
 arms ; and although he was resolute in upholding the 
 cause of monarchy against republicanism, he owned to the 
 natural disappointment which he had felt at the king's 
 neglect of old friends, and reluctantly admitted that 
 Charles, sauntering aloiig Pall Mall with ruin at his heels 
 and the wickedest men and Avomen in England for his 
 chosen companions, was not a monarch to maintain and 
 strengthen the public idea of the divinity that doth hedge 
 a king. 
 
 " Of all the lessons danger and adversity can teach he 
 has learnt but one," said Sir John, with a regretful sigh. 
 "He has learnt the Iloratian philosophy to snatch the 
 pleasures of the day, and care nothing what may happen 
 on the morrow. I do not wonder that predictions of a 
 sudden end to this globe of ours should have been bruited 
 about of late ; for if lust and profaneness could draw down 
 fire from heaven, London would be in as perilous a case as 
 Gomorrah. But I doubt such particular judgments be- 
 longed but to the infancy of this world, when men believed 
 in a personal G"!, interested in all their concerns, watch- 
 ful to bless or to punish. We have now but the God of 
 Spinoza— a God v/hois all things andeverywnere about us, 
 of whom this creation in which we move is but the gar- 
 ment — a Universal Essence which should govern and in- 
 form all we are and all we do ; but not the Judge and 
 Father of His people, to be reached by prayer and touched 
 by pity." 
 
Patient Not Passionate. 
 
 '' ill -• ^^^ 
 
 with-„.;.t:iv.""V!f;';:,iM'";l tT'f '» r-'-i-^a 
 
 oceun of doubt. The u-nZ . , °'' ^''^' tra<-klo,s3 
 
 tJ-y believe that w Ll C '"" '^^^, ^^^'^^ --ood, for 
 «^y«terios of the Unsoon Vo d '"^'^'' '"^^ ^'^^« ^'^^ 
 
 1-ic'sts. Ayeurago hTdl oo f '''°'"^-'''^^^ ^'"'^"^ their 
 i-^^I.ter, I Should l^ttrilr^^^T """^^'^ '' ^^'-3-our 
 ^Kon^o! but I have jZIZ^'^^^^^^^^^ 
 have come to see tliat C-d'viL "^ ''"'^ *''«"' '"'^ T 
 
 and tl.at the doctrine of peZr r ' ''^'^"'"^ '' ^^^l>^-^> 
 tions as difficult to swa lo. f"'^^^'" r^"°'^'^« ^'^^^''-lio- 
 Cb;n-cli." '^^°'' •"' ^""y f^'ble of the Kornan 
 
 ''■ft is well that von slinn],i i 
 her roligio,, ; f„, /.l.t :/-i;-;f '» '"t ,,or koop 
 
 t .0 other day .,,e talk., ^ tt ° ' '""f" '' '"^^ ''"* 
 a" the disposition to tlmtrdi^r '•''""' ""»■•*<' '>»« 
 great a„nt lived conten el 1° ?'' "™"" '" '""•'^^ )""■ 
 t'me. B„t it is for ,.o„ ,Z ' , ''"'?" "' " '""? '«»- 
 »>"! to spare „,o tl.e pi '„„;'' ;,: ""•»''" o' tl.at fa„cy, 
 Mder tJ,e l,laok veil " ™'« "J" I""*' beloved cl,iU 
 
 J^Ij^ed,si,«a,o,easear„,,,„,„^„^,^.^^,^^^^^. 
 
 a.n»?:; .?;:";" ,;;;:.er,jr» •■- ^ "-" ^ >ove .o,. 
 
 bj "fter Ilyaeinth ,vas Um' be „ ' t. ' ° ^'""^ "''" "-'"t 
 I "sed to long for „ s„„ ",,,,", " "'5''ff ""».?of tronUe. 
 .stress „.y d-ear wife V j, ll/ ™" ' "•'" =»"'='""- 
 disappointed hopes. And then „ Persistently „po„ 
 
 -ms, a rebellioi's peopi a k rn,^r'° "'""'' ^"S''""l i'. 
 I tad leisnre to thnk'of 1017:3 ''"" ''"* '""'"'"io-and 
 ;;> the thiek of the strif " ZT'"' ",'"'"'■ ^-' 
 the bringer of my life's „_{ ' "■'" •""•" to mo- 
 
 thought of sonsf S , yC e T'T':! "'"'' "» »»o 
 
 '"'"'""--- ---;tyX::^tL;''y:^ 
 
388 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 der shy dove to consent, and we sliall be of one family and 
 of one mind, and I as happy as any broken-down campaigner 
 in EngUind can be— content to creep to tlie grave in ob- 
 scurity, forgotten by tlie Prince whose fatlier it is my dear 
 memory toliave served," 
 
 " fou loved your king, sir, I take it, with a personal 
 affection." 
 
 "Ah, Denzil wo all loved him. Even the common 
 people— led as they were by hectoring preachers of sedition, 
 of no more truth or honesty than tbe mountebanks that 
 ply fcbcir knavish trade round Henry'- statue on the Pont 
 Neuf— even they, the very rabble, had their hours of 
 loyalty. I rode with his majesty from Royston to Hatfield, 
 in '47, when the people filed the midsummer air with his 
 name, from hearts melting with love and pity. They 
 strewed the ways with boughs, and strewed the boughs 
 with roses. So great honor has been seldom showed to a 
 royal captive." 
 
 " I take it that the lower class are no politicians, and 
 loved their king for his private virtues." 
 
 " Never was monarch worthier to be so esteemed. He 
 was a man of deep affections, and it was perhaps his most 
 fatal quality where he loved to love too much. I have no 
 grudge against that beauoiful and most accomplished 
 woman he so worshiped, and who was ever gracious to 
 me ; but I cannot doubt that Henrietta Maria Avas his evil 
 star.^ She had the fire and daring of her father, but none 
 of his care and affection for the people. The daughter of 
 the most beloved of kings had the instincts of a tyrant, 
 and was ever urging her doatiiig husband to unpopular 
 measures. She wanted to set that little jeweled shoe of 
 hers on the neck of a rebellion, where she should have held 
 out a soft white hand to make friends of her foes. Her 
 beauty and her grace might have done nmch, had she in- 
 herited with the pride of the Medici something of their 
 
Patient Not Passionate. 
 
 when she ,vas ha„«i„„ „„„ w . , • ";'' '"'" ""y ""™. 
 0' tl.o council taU^ X ' "'""■■ '" ''" ^"^ "' "'o end 
 tablc-threo thousand ,,onnd ! "" "™™"'' '""" »" "'c 
 only surpassed by K IT ";»"«l"«-oxt,.avaganco 
 
 wards, when I,e wassm.a n „ T,'"' *""'^ J«"» »"<"•- 
 wife is a bad honsokoepT'l, nn T '"'^''" '"°"">-- ' % 
 
 hand, and kissed her i, tlJn ' "'"?"' "'"' " ""''>''"g 
 "His son is Strang! ;° if: ,7°^.°^''°^'' gmybeards;' 
 "His son has tlifman" 1 7 "t''"'"'''^"" "''"<='■-•" 
 morals of a Tnrk IIo " ! " '"•'=■"'''»»» ""d the 
 
 to his nustrcss 't 4 ,'t7°'*" '"' ^"^ »■"'" slave 
 won,an tl.an his ma^tv" LL T'f ' "'^"''y '" * 
 she w,., still bnt a stra ,! r i, t T°" "' '^''""'""« "^'"lo 
 his notorious para»o,:r r,p„ 'ht.it'rH';' "' n" "° '""^'^ 
 honor, quotlia ! There los 7 ^ ^ "' '"""»■• Of 
 
 conduct ! He had „ a fcd th st, 'Z' ''°"" '" '"^ 
 day when the poorladvw,,! ,5 °' ''™'"'^o ''"'her 
 bed-so gentlc.'^so aSiZt "° ^ ""^ °" '"='■ ""ath- 
 fering of eons^rt-quecl ™;i^ ! ■^'■°^" '" "'« '""g «af- 
 tronble him. Ned Zl ' h ' J'""*' '°'' '"'""« '"-"d to 
 that poor lady's sub1„„a ion f^ T" "° *''" "'"'''' '^"'y "i 
 and in their 'ecrcts It 'stlT' ,'"'"r "'" ^"•"-' 
 ears and nostrils when tliat sin , ""'""' '""' i>o>- 
 
 to her, and she w":ied r '' '"""'''" ^^ '"■''"ght 
 And then she was sSleu ; ,d ZT\ '° ''" ^'■''""'-• 
 sent away all the Poit,'. se"'lt:"r''''^'''^"°'' ''-' -'d 
 woman. I „rant vo„ tl, °"'' ""ciont waiting- 
 
 field to frigiCtrs ,^,;'2;;:;s.'^' t""^- "' '° -' "> » 
 
 treatment for a Chilian ol?"" '"'"' ""■»• «»«'! 
 Could the Sophy di'wr f' A, dTse^r'/r"™ ""'« ' 
 ..elded-as .ost wonren will, for^rt'^^nS 
 
 :«71 
 
>iU 
 
 390 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 
 ■^mM 
 
 i ' 
 
 and love to be beaten — and after holding herself aloof for 
 a long time — a sad, silent^, neglected figure Avhere all the 
 rest were loud and merry — she made friends with the Lady, 
 and even seemed to fawn upon lier." 
 
 "And now I dare swear the two women mingle their 
 tears when Charles is unfaithful to both ; or Catherine 
 weeps while Barbara curses. That would be more in charac- 
 ter. Fire and not water is her ladyship's element." 
 
 " Ah, Denzil, 'tis a curious change, and to have lived to 
 see Buckingham murdered and Strafford sacrificed, and the 
 Rebellion, and the Commonwealth and the Restoration, 
 and the Plague, and the Fire, and to have skirmished in 
 the battles of I'arl laments and Princes, t'other side the 
 Channel, and seen the tail of the thirty years' war, towns 
 ruined, villages laid waste, Avhere Tilly passed in blood and 
 fire, is to have lived through as wild a variety of fortunes 
 as ever madman invented in a dream." 
 
 Denzil lingered at the Manor, urged again and again by 
 his host to stay over the day fixed for departure, and so 
 lengthening his visit with a most willing submission till 
 late in June, when the silence of the nightingales made 
 sleep more possible, and the sunset was so late and the 
 sunrise so early that there seemed to be no such thing as 
 night. He had made up his mind to plead for a hearing 
 in the hour of farewell ; and it may have been as much 
 from apprehension of that fateful hour as even from the 
 delight of being in his mistress's company that he acceded 
 with alacrity when Sir John desired him to stay. But an 
 end must come at last to all hesitations, and a familiar 
 verse repeated itself in his brain with the persistent itera- 
 tion of cathedral chimes — 
 
 " He either fears his fate too much, 
 Or his desert is small, 
 "Wlio fears to put it to the touch, 
 And wiu or lose it all.'' 
 
Patient Not Passionate. 
 
 ^^SirJ„i.np„s„oahi,„ towards his ^.to'^ith airoctio,!! 
 
 <I"y, wlien tlio guest's l,or„r ? 'l™u«lit, on that lust 
 
 coldness cow j„„,. spirits. Tho mc-uc , li^ '""Pl'"""'^ 
 would scarce have endured 17 ™ ^'"' ' "'^^ she 
 
 and insects, or hecn ™iw ZllZ' TT"' "P™ ^""^ 
 "11 these wecics. Take h' "■* ' ^" ^'°"'' """P^^ 
 
 bor that thoush I alL r ^f""' ™" ' ""'• remem- 
 willing bridef the ru^r'.f'f '"'•"« " "■- 
 and Will not have my dl:; t w^.efhlit^dT' ri!"'""-^' 
 Clous humors of a coquette " ^ ""^ <=aP"- 
 
 .o^falfrcr;;:;:!!"^'" ^ »•> '° ™"-"'y what 
 
 an! toif;vsr';,rhernn -^ ■"-^■"- 
 p^:n"^:i4^rn,e"?h.r-^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 inclination ; but Wlam drivT??"? " ■"" '» '<«■'=<' I'or 
 
 for her o.n good I ^ tv::'"^" ' "" -T''" '"''« '^^ 
 
 ortnno give her hotter than a I^T'"" ' 7'"' ""■' 
 
 husband ?" " " ''andsomo and virtuous 
 
 Angela was in the sarden wl,„„ n ■, 
 leave other. She was walkiL ??"' '''^"* *» take 
 
 border of June flower st-eeueiS 7 ''"™ ''"^'"^ " '""g 
 those thick walls of Tew , hicb 1 " f""""'' '>"»''« by 
 Weltered feeling to th M™"° /T '"^ ' " ™»'ortable 
 iiowcrs and turf^here ;frS t ttt^ ": '," ^™' "' 
 or stew, stocked with tench and. " ^""^ I'ond 
 
 as ancient and greedy Tht si 7' T" '"""'« 'h^"- 
 Mean. J * mo scaly monsters of I'outaine- 
 
 The sun was shinins on tho ,i„ i 
 .audytiower.bed,and^i:;i:^tl^--cr^^^^^^ 
 
V'i ' 
 
 
 it 
 
 f' 
 
 hA 
 
 mm 
 
 ; ' 'if 
 
 H#i 
 
 \M 
 
 1 
 
 392 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 niiig about the grass, barking liis loudest, chasing bird or 
 buttorlly witli iini^otont fury, since ho never caught any- 
 thing. At sight of Dcnzil he tore across the greensward, 
 his silky ears flying, and barked at him as if the young man's 
 appearance in that garden were an insuflierable imper- 
 tinence ; but on being taken up in one strong hand, changed 
 his opinion, and slobbered the face of the foe in an ecstasy 
 of affection. 
 
 "Soho, Ganymede, thou knowest I bear thee a good 
 heart, and plaything and mere pretence of a dog as thou 
 art," said Denzil, depositing the little bundle of black-and- 
 tan flossiness at AngelaV feet. 
 
 He might have carrial and nursed his mistress's favorite 
 with pleasure during any casual sauntering and random 
 talk ; but a man could hardly ask to have his fate decided 
 for good or ill with a toy spaniel in his arms. 
 
 " My horse is at the door, Angela, and I am come to 
 bid you good-bye," he said in a grave voice. 
 
 The words were of the simplest ; but Miore was some- 
 thing in his tone that told her all was not said. She paled 
 at the thought of an approaching conflict ; for she knew 
 her father was against her, and that there must bo hard 
 fighting. 
 
 They walked the length of flower border and lawn in 
 silence ; and then, when they were furthest from the 
 house, and from the hazard of eyes looking out of windows, 
 he stopped suddenly, and took her unresisting hand which 
 lay cold in his. 
 
 "Dearest, I have kept silence through all those blessed 
 days in which you and I have been together, but I have 
 not left oif loving you or hoping for you. Things have 
 changed since I spoke to you in London last winter. I 
 have powerful advocate now whose pleading ought to 
 prevail with you— a father whose anxious affection urges 
 what my passionate love so ardently desires. Indeed, dear 
 
Patient Not Passionate. 
 
 am come to 
 
 393 
 
 tiio in'nycr yon know of " ^ ' ^° 
 
 ** Indeed, indeed, Denzil I nnnnf t 
 
 and faithful friend lflZ\' '^'^ yo"^ true 
 liuin luena. if you ^yoro sick and ulono— -is ],;« 
 
 TIT. • -li j(Mi A\oio poor and I wcm nV.i, t 
 
 would divide my fortune with you I shall Vw'v, V, u 
 
 "Only because from the hour Avhen vour ho.nf,. ^ 
 "Alas!" 
 
 baMnos, was hi.Won by tL ap„r„VtL"aoad '"'""' '"' 
 
 No need for more than that sad dissyllahle. 
 ■llien I am no nearer whining this dear Ivmrl *i 
 was at Faroham IIon«e?" ),. •;! '"' *'""> I 
 
 ..ad h„ijt high hoXn ht Sdnttdtmtt^^ 
 
 panionship m that Arcadian valley ^ 
 
 "I told you then that I should never marry I hav« 
 m,t changed my mind. I never can change, /km to be 
 Henrietto's spinster aunt.'' ^® 
 
 fil 
 
d .111 
 
 :i I 
 
 394 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 " And Fiuvliiinrs spinster sister ? " siiid Denzil. '* J 
 understand. "We are neither of us cured of our ninhidy. 
 It is my disease to love you in spite of your disdain. It is 
 your disease to love where yon shoukl not. Farewell ! " 
 
 ^ lie was gone before she could reply. The livid nnger of 
 his face, the deep resentment in his voice liaunted her 
 memory, and made life almost intolerable. 
 
 " My sin has found mo out," she said to herself, as she 
 paced the garden with the rapid steps that indicate a 
 distempered spirit. '' What right has ho to pry into the 
 depths of my mind, and ferret out all that there is of evil 
 in my nature. Well, he goes the surest way to make me 
 hate him. If ever he comes here again, I will run away 
 and hide from all who know me. I would rather be a 
 farm-servant, and rise at daybreak to work in the fields, 
 than endure his insolence." 
 
 She had to bear pain worse before Denzil had ridden far 
 upon his journey; for her father came to the garden 
 to seek her, eager to know the result of his protege's 
 wooing. 
 
 ''Well, sweetheart," he began, taking her to his bosom 
 and kissing her. *' Do I salute the future Lady 
 Warner?" 
 
 " No, sir ; I am too well content with the name I inherit 
 to desire any other." 
 
 " That is gracefully said, cherio ; but I want to see my 
 ewe lamb happily wedded. Has thy sweetheart stolen 
 away without finding courage to ask the question that 
 has been on the tip of his tongue for the last six weeks ? " 
 
 " He has been both importunate and impertinent, sir, 
 and he has had his answer. I hope I may never see him 
 again." 
 
 " What ! you have refused him ? You must be mad ! " 
 
 " No, sir ; sober and sane enough to know wh m I am 
 happy. I told you before this gentleman came here that 
 
ame I inherit 
 
 Patient Not Passionate. 3^5 
 
 «.">.« my f„tl,o,. will not I„.v„, no " l'«»l™".l :,„. 
 
 wl.ich was thought to bo ,s n" 7 *^" """,""''"''"'. 
 
 me and gross ex^ravagat '' f '.li "^toTCf ll "''",' 
 some who lovorl him ,1^ i . ""fli'^'iea .md ulunnod 
 
 people ,uost-:,ix:!:.t z^:c :::rT"r 
 
 vanish like a pa men ' „ ff'T "' '"'"t"" '""^ 
 who has tasted thoso"?ce„T.',' ■™"''. "'"' '^'"'■•'™' 
 
 -a,in;trtri;r";?\:tt:^ 
 
 to the memory of his own wrongs • • 'chS I't ! '° 
 stvto's.™ °" """^'' "«»"'»- *'-y "-1 f".-the,'r 
 
 .esa^i^jte^rr^-r^^^ 
 poor, as the world ffoes now • hi^-n r V- I ^^ ^ "^'^ 
 modestlv in this retreat wT ' rr ^"'^ '"""^'^^ *° ^^^^ 
 rich nn^ no ' ^'"''^^ ^'^"^ ^"«<^s but little. Ho is 
 
 rich, and can give you a handsome seat near your sister's 
 
 ,n 
 
Si: ■; 
 
 'lU 
 
 if^ 
 
 i-iiH 
 
 ■ , ! 
 
 If^M 
 
 
 tillH 
 
 ■' ' 1 
 
 'is 
 
 ^ 
 
 .^^iP 
 
 1 * 
 
 
 1 1 
 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 liplpi 
 
 t'^HIil ! 
 
 .ii'i 
 
 
 39* 
 
 When The Wv.rld Was Younger. 
 
 munsi^oii, nm] a hoiiso in London, if j '' dosiroone; less 
 splendid, douL (livss, than Fiirehum'si)uhu-u on the Thames, 
 hilt more hefittin;,' the lijihits nnd niunners of an Engliah 
 gentleniim's wife. He can give you hounds and hawka, 
 your riding-liorses, and your coju!]! and six. What inoro, 
 in God's name, can any roasonal)le woman desire ?" 
 
 " Only one thing, sir. To live my own life in poaco, as 
 my eonscienoe and niy reason hid mo. I cannot lovo Denzil 
 Warner, though of late I have grown to like and resi)ecfc 
 him as a friend aiul most intelligent companion. Your 
 persistence is fast changing friendship into dislike, and 
 the very name of the man would speedily bocomo hateful 
 to mo." i 
 
 *"0h, I have done," retorted Sir John. "I am no 
 tyrant. You must take your owiv way. mistress. I can 
 but lament that IVovidence gave mo oidv two daughters, 
 and ono of thorn an arrant fool.'* 
 
 lie loft her in a huff, and had it not boon for a stupen- 
 dous event, which convulsed town and country, and sus- 
 pended private interests and private quarrels in the excite- 
 ment of public affairs, she would have heard much more 
 of his discontent. 
 
 The Dutch ships were at Chatliam. English men-of- 
 war were blazing at the very mouth of the Tliames, and 
 there was panic lest the triumphing foe should sail their 
 warship up the river to London, besiege the Tower, 
 relight the fire whose ashes were scarce grown cold, pillage, 
 slaughter, destroy— as Tilly had destroyed the wretched 
 provinces in the religious war. 
 
 Here in this sheltered haven, amidst green fields, under 
 the lee of B- '<, the panic and consternation were as in- 
 tense as if the . ■■itsn ^t 8t. Xioholas were the one spot the 
 Dutch would m,', ior n.Ucv landing ; and, indeed, there 
 were rustics wJio vv at i:o the pl.-.r.] .scene where the infant 
 stream rises in ita cr. lie of reed uud lily, half expectant of 
 
r,iticnt Not Passionate. jg. 
 
 ■c™, „„co,Uh N.t„oH,u.„i,h voxels ,„.„„.u,a ..„„„, „„ 
 
 OJuitliam. ^ommaiKl of a cavalry regiment at 
 
 Lappiost w,,o„ ho ,„.o,u„o, ';:!';';„,„,,,i ^""- '- ■» --or 
 
 thit^^^riiif^^r:^;:,::™, :--'•>«• "-.ana 
 
 porhapf with hi, ™."l , *,,r::i •i>^'''-''''''"' 
 
 ^- p.o„,h an. past™ to- son: r '^tn J t^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
39« 
 
 When The World Was Youncrer. 
 
 K'.l-r. 
 
 und fiimino where now plenty smiles at us. And is this a 
 time in whicli to refuse a valian^ and wealthy protector. 
 All over as honest as ever God made ; a pious conforming 
 Chrlatian of unsullied name ; a young man after my own 
 pattern ; a fine horseman and a good farmer ; one who 
 loves a patik of hounds and a well-bred horse, a flight of 
 hawks aiul a match at bowls, better than to give chase to a 
 she-rake in the Mall, or to drink himself stark mad at a 
 tav(!rn in Covcnt Garden with debauchees from White- 
 hall ? " 
 
 Sir John prosed and grumbled to the last moment, but 
 could not refuse to bend down from his saddle and kiss 
 the fair pale face that looked at him in piteous deprecation 
 at the moment of parting. 
 
 " Wi\\\, keep a brave heart, Mistress Wilful. Thou art 
 safe here yet a while from Dutch marauders. I go but to 
 find out how much truth there is in these panic rumors." 
 
 She begged him not to fatigue himself with too long 
 stages, and went back to the silent house, thankful to be 
 alonc! in her despondency. She felt as if the last page in 
 her worldly Jil'e had been written. She had to turn her 
 thoughts backward to that quiet retreat where there would 
 at least be i)eaco. She had iDromised her father that she 
 would not return to the convent while he wanted her at 
 home. lint was that promise to hold good if he were to 
 enibitt(!r luir life by urging her to a marriage that would 
 only bring her unhappiness ? 
 
 She had ample leisure for thought in one summer day of 
 a solitude so absolute that she began to shiver in the sultry 
 stilliu'ss of afternoon, and scarce ventured to raise her eyes 
 from book or embroidery frame, lest some shadowy presence, 
 some ghost out of the dead past, should hover near, watch- 
 ing her as she sat alone in scenes where that pale spirit 
 had been living flesh. The thought of all who had lived 
 and duid in that house— men and women of her own race, 
 
nic rumors. 
 
 Patient Not Passionate. ^^^ 
 
 whose qualities of mind and person slio had inherited 
 oppi-essed her in tlie long hours of silent rever Befo^^ 
 her first day of loneliness had ended her mhlll\J:^ 
 to deepest melancholy and in ' , '^\'P"^^« ^^'^^^ sunk 
 rv,,- :i 1 1 , Y y ' ™*^^ "^ that weaker condition of 
 
 m.ndrf,oh,ul beg,m to ask herself wl.cthor sho ,d " n 
 r ght to oppose her father's wishes by denying her«^ u\ 
 
 affection wonkl bring new sunshine into tliat dear fatlier's 
 
 He was above all things a man of triilh and honesty 
 
 She was roaming abont the gardens with her do. to 
 w^ards noon m the seeond day of her solitnde, w n for ^ 
 he yew hedges she saw white elonds of dnst risin. f o^ 
 U e high-road, and heard the elatter of Iioofs and ro o 
 wh els-ano.se as of a troop of eavalry-wher at G „v 
 mode barked himself almost into an apoplexy, a d rnsled 
 across the grass like a mad thing. J' »"" nished 
 
 A great cracking of whips and soiiiul of voices horse, 
 gal oping horses trotting, Jnst enough to whiten a He 
 edges and greensward. Angela stooS at ,ga.e, v"nd rh ^ 
 f the Dntch were coming to storm the old hiuse Ir e 
 county m.litia coming to garrison it 
 
 The Manor Moat was the destination of that clamorous 
 troop whoever they were. Wheels and horse sZT. 
 sharply at the great iron gate in front of the hoi J th ' 
 bell began to ring furiously ; while other dogs, i il -oie ° 
 that curiously resembled Ganymede's, answered his sM 
 bark with even shriller yelpings 
 
 Angela ran towards the gate,' and was near enough to 
 see It opened to admit three black and tan spaniel "and 
 one shm personage in a long flame-colored broLtelle gZ! 
 
?pll 
 
 ifr 
 
 400 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 ana a largo beaver liat, wlio upproaclied with stately move- 
 ments, asmall pert nose hold high, and rosy upper Tp 
 curled ni patrician disdain of connncn things/whfir. fun 
 
 m the fierce noonday sun, was waved slowly before the 
 Canity face, scattering the trenudous life of summer thaJ 
 huzzed and fluttered in the sultry air 
 
 In the rear of this brilliant figure appeared a middle- 
 aged person ma gray silk gown and hood, a negro p 4 
 n he Farehan^ livery, a waiting woman, ani a 'tril 
 flunky so many being the necessary adjuncts of the Honor- 
 able Ilenriette Mane level's state when she went abroach 
 Angela ran to receive her niece with a cry of ranture 
 and the tall slip of a girl in the flame-coloL frociwa; 
 cbsped to her aunt's heart with a ruthless disregard" 
 the beaver hat and cataract of ostrich phimao-o 
 
 _" Prends garde d'abimer mon chapeau, ^'tite tante " 
 cried Ilennette, -tis one of Lewin's kll Gwyn hats and 
 cost twenty guineas, without the buckle, which I ^o^^ 
 of father's shoes t'other day. His lordship is so carele 
 about Ins clothes that he wore the shoes^wo da^s am 
 
 devils ^r ': "" ' '"^'^^ "^^^^"^•^' -^d «-- lay 
 
 devils his servants never told him. I believe they meant 
 to rook Inm of t'other buckle." ^ 
 
 - Cliatterer, chatterer, how happy I am to see thee ' 
 But IS not your mother with you ? " * 
 
 _ " Her ladyship is in London. Everybody of importance 
 b^rkToT"' off to London ; and no doubt will be'riilh"; 
 b.ick to the country again if the Dutch take the Tower 
 
 a regim:;;''''"' '"^ "'^ ''''''' "^ '^'"'^^ '^ ^^'^ ^^Ze 
 -And mademoiselle," with a courtesy to the lady in 
 
 2'to s""^^'^ '-'' ^" '''' ^^"^ ^-y ^^-"^'^ the 
 "I have brought mademoiselle/' Henrietto answered 
 
to see thee ! 
 
 e answered 
 
 Patient Not Passionate. 401 
 
 TutTdTh^ ^'"' 'k f'^-^'— 1-^ finished the 
 
 Madame wdl conceive that in miladi's absence it wa^ a 
 
 ^^riii:zr'f"^^ ^^'--^^ ^- coaches :::;'trd 
 
 Z:^l\ . T ^°f^^'"P « groom of tlie chamber is my wit- 
 nm that I protested against such an outrageous iTroded- 
 
 " Two coaches ! " exchiimed Ano-ehi 
 
 n Jff "'^f' '''^ 'f ^'' '"^ ^^^^ ^y ^^«SS and my gonver- 
 nante, ,nd a coach and four for my people/' excised 
 Honnette, who had modelled her equipuge'^.nd sui upot 
 a remmiscence of tiie train which Ltinded LadrCa tie 
 mame^ visit to Chilton, as beheld from a nurse y'vhu^w 
 ; Come chi d, and you, mademoiselle, must be needinc: 
 refreshments after so long a drive." necumg 
 
 " Our progress through a perpetual cloud of dust and n 
 
 01 purgatory , but the happmess of maclamo's (tracious 
 welcome is an all-sufflcient compensation for our f! .re" 
 mademoiselle replied, with a deep courtesy ® ' 
 
 CrlnTTr' *™? /"/''" ■"-^t- We stopped at the 
 trmvn at Thame and had strawberries and milk " 
 
 You had strawberries and milk, mon enfant. I have 
 a digestion which will not allow such liberties " 
 
 "And our horses were baited, and our people had their 
 morning drmk " said Ilenriette, with d grown-up "^ 
 One ought always to remember cattle ™d scivan ' 
 May we put up onr horses with you, auntie? We m st 
 eave you soon ai^ter dinner, so as to be at Chilto bv Z 
 B orm„demoise lewill be afraid of highwaymen L gh 
 I told Samuel and Peter to bring their blunderbusses In 
 
 and niy locket wiui hii itsiiij:^;"; ;:;it"-'^ ^-^'>=. 
 
•«f*> 
 
 402 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 Angela's cheeks flushed at that chance allusion to Fare- 
 ham's picture. It brought back a vision of the convent 
 pur'or, and she standing there with Fareham's miniature 
 in her hand, wonderingly contemplative of the dark strong 
 face. At that stage of her life she had seen so few men's 
 faces ; and this one had a power in it that startled her. 
 Did she divine, by some supernatural foreknowledge, that 
 this face held the secret of her destiny ? 
 
 She went to the house with Henriette's lissom form 
 hanging upon her, and the gray governess tripping miuc- 
 mgly beside them, tottering a little upon her high heels. 
 
 Old Reuben had crept out hito the sunshine, wfth a rustic 
 footman following him, tmd the cook was looking out at a 
 wnidow in the wing where kitchen and servants' hall occu- 
 pied as important a position as the dining parlor and saloon 
 on the opposite side. A hall with open roof, wide double 
 staircase and music gallery, filled the central space between 
 the two projecting wings, and at tlie back there was a ban- 
 queting chamber or ball-room, where in its prosperous days 
 the family had been accustomed to dine on all stately oc- 
 casions—a room now shabby and gray with disuse. 
 
 While the footman showed the way to the stables. An- 
 gela drew Reuben aside for a brief consultation as to ways 
 and means for a dinner that must be the best the house 
 could provide and served at two o'clock, the later hour giv- 
 ing time for extra preparations. A capon larded after the 
 French fashion, a pair of trouts, the finest the stream could 
 furnish, or a carp stewed in clary wine, and as many sweet 
 kickshaws, as cook's ingenuity could furnish at so brief 
 notice. Kor were waiting-woman, lackey, and postilions to 
 be neglected. Chine and sirloin, pudding and beer must be 
 provided for all. 
 
 "There are six men beside the black boy, "sighed Reu- 
 ben ; '^ they will devour us a week's provision of butcher's 
 meat." 
 
Patient Not Passionate. ^^3 
 
 " If you have done your housekeopiiiff, tante Ipf n.n 
 to your favorite summer-liouse witli vou a,^ fl, ' ^"^ 
 
 Becrets. I mn perishing for a tete-a-t^eM' /'"" "'^ 
 
 Iu3;v": .c Her:." °" - "-^ "°"- -' "^ ^^'-^'^^i 
 
 She sank almost to tlie ground in 1 WhJf..l.aii 
 
 " m L .","' n '° f ,' '" " ™'^ ^"""' "^ '0 «1»» '>- gown 
 What a shabby old place it i'^^ t " d,,. .„• i 1 i • *= "' 
 
 ically round ho. Jaeyli: ^..oug, t . g '..Z '"iTt" 
 afra,d yon must porish wit-, onnni ho% withlo fiserva ," 
 
 "■■ Ti,is valley air Ltro't a^ ^ ^ urtf ' WeH "' 
 
 canhaveamuehfl„orp,acewl,euove;o Ce A ben " 
 house and garden, everso n,neh nedr }ZZ t , l' 
 wdl choose won't you, dearest ?" nestling close to her 
 
 t"rr" "'° "=" "" ^"'^" »-^ -"=-'"«- 
 
 ^'a don't understand you, Ilenriette/' 
 With i?^ oall „.e Henriette I shall be sure you are angry 
 
 \ll\ 
 
f , i 
 
 404 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 "No, love, not angry, only surprised." 
 
 " You think I have no right to talk of your sweetheart, 
 because I am only thirteen— and have scarce left off playing 
 with babies— I have hated them for ages, only people per- 
 sist in giving me the foolish puppets. I know more of the 
 world than you do, auntie, after being shut in a convent tnc 
 best part of your life. Why are you so obstinate, ma cherie, 
 in refusing a gentleman we all like ? " 
 
 " Do you mean Sir Denzil ?" 
 
 " Sans doute. Have you a crowd of servants ?" 
 
 "No, child, only this one. But don't you see that 
 other people's liking has less to do with the question than 
 mine ? And if I do hot like him well enough to be his 
 wife " 
 
 " But you ought to li] a him. You know how long her 
 ladyship's heart has been set on the match ; you must have 
 seen what pains she took in London to have Sir Denzil 
 always about you. And now after a most exemplary patience, 
 after being your faithful servant for over a year, he asks 
 you to be his wife, and you refuse, obstinately refuse. And 
 you would rather mope here with my poor old grandfather— 
 in abject poverty— mother says ' abject poverty '—than be 
 the honored mistress of one of the finest seats in Oxford- 
 shire." 
 
 " I w^ould rather do what is right and honest, my dearest. 
 It is dishonest to marry without love." 
 
 " Then half mother's fine friends must be dishonest, for 
 I dare swear that very few of them love their husbands'." 
 
 *' Ilenriotte, you talk of things you don't know." 
 
 •* Don't know ! why there is no one in London knows 
 more. I am always listening, and I always remember. De 
 Malfort used to say I had a plaguey long memory, Avhen I 
 told him of things he had said a year ago." 
 
 " My dear, I love you fondly, but I cannot have yon talk 
 to me of what you don't understand ; and I am sorry Sir 
 
 - ■ I 
 
 
Patient Not Passionate. ^. 
 
 orable; and sL„,l „,' , ,, ""' ' ° ™' '°'''''"'S "'i'^- 
 
 ref^aed Sir DeS" ° ""''"'"" »^'' " '^-^^ &uItyou 
 
 Angela sat silout, and the hinrl TT.,. • ^, 
 grew cold as ice Hennette was clasping 
 
 falcon brightness. ^''°^'''^"^ "^ ^'leir 
 
 " No> child. Why should he interfere ? Tf ,• 
 ness of his." ^ucerieie .-^ It is no busi- 
 
 '' Then why was my mother so angry V She wniv 7 
 
 and down the room in a towering passfon tv ""'^ ''^ 
 
 doing/ she cried, ^f she were nniZ i '' '' ^'°^^" 
 
 would have jumped at so hlT ^ ' '''^°""^' ^^^^^« «J^« 
 •^ , *' ^ '" ^*^ ^^'^"dsome a sweetheirf rri.- • 
 
 that .ay „ eve:lr,zr>: ;x'r'?;'""': '" 
 
 -silent. I was standing ir his ^^,^" '''7P'^^^-:f^-owning 
 
 by the arm, and dragged nV o .t ^f ' iT '" ^"^^^"^ ™« 
 venture there is a hvuL ^'"^ ''''°"^- ^ ^are 
 
 whisCi^h!:^:: ;;s:^^^^ i 
 
 my Indy screaming and sobbi. J '!"i"^ '^''^'^ ^ ^'"^^ ^^^^^ 
 
 lie would not lot 
 
 he took 
 mo go back to hor. Ho 
 
 me away. But 
 would only send 
 
"i&f:r"e 
 
 -iuiii9if's£'%A 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 f 
 
 406 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 her women. ' Your mother has an interval of madness ' 
 he said; 'you are best out of her presence.^ The news 
 of the Dutch ship came the same evening, and my father 
 rode off towards London, and my mother ordered her 
 coach, and followed an hour after. They seemed both 
 distracted, and only because you refused Sir Denzil." 
 
 '' I cannot help her ladyship's foolishness, Papillon. She 
 has no occasion for any of this trouble. I am her dutiful 
 affectionate sister ; but my heart is not hers to give or to 
 refuse." 
 
 "But was it indeed my father's fault? Is it because 
 you adore him that you refused Sir Denzil ? " 
 
 "No-no— no. My affection for my brother-he has 
 been to me as a brother— can make no difference in my re- 
 gard for anyone else. One cannot fall in love at another's 
 ordering, or be happy with a husband of another's choice 
 You will discover that for yourself, Papillon, perhaps, 
 when you are a woman." 
 
 " Oh, I mean to marry for wealth and station, as all the 
 clever women do," said Papillon, with an upward jerk of 
 her delicate chin. " Mrs. Lewin always says I ought to be 
 a duchess. I should like to have married the Duke of 
 Monmouth, and then who knows, I might have been a 
 queen. The king's other sons are too young for me, and 
 they will never have Monmouth's chance. But, indeed, 
 sweetheart, you ought to marry Sir Denzil, and come 
 and live near us at Chilton. You would make us all 
 happy." 
 
 " Ma tres chere, it is so easy to talk, but when thou thy- 
 self art a woman " 
 
 " I shall never care for such trumpery as love. I mean 
 to have a grand house— ever so much grander than Fare- 
 ham House. Perhaps I may marry a Frenchman, and 
 have a salon, and all the wits about me on my day. I 
 would make it gayer than Mademoiselle de Scudcry's Satur- 
 
Patient Not Passionate. 
 
 [s it because 
 
 di'n which mygoverness so loves to hit f .r, '^^ 
 
 be less talk and more daiie hT n , ' There should 
 
 clasping herann. s„ddc' W™ f„„ f l" 'f^' ?'"'« tanto," 
 leavo this spot till you !,• v. ™ ^ 'gel'"'"eok, " Iwo„'t 
 about Dcu.iI. I ifke , •' ir , "' ° "''""«« J""" """'1 
 
 reason why y„„ ,„„::t;r, ,:; 'j;,.;;"tj;'" ™- "-»-« ..o 
 
 his lordship's .Kloring slave » Jl' "'™' ^^ ^''J are 
 
 "and he has forbidden yo^i """'""^''"'S "'"» 'ast words, 
 Angela sat dumb, her eyes fixed on vaeanev 
 
 grief.' Dearest, whysotd? le" "r'™"'*' »"<' at 
 -and the dairy that'Zs on'oe , "Z ""' """ """^^ 
 ■' "ito a ehapel again if von If'T , ^°" "°»W *"ra 
 chaplain. His maf™, '' J.° ' ''''f'^' fd have your own 
 
 ^do-being a papisHltu ^t:: fbe"'"" '" «'''» 
 poor wretches are dragged oft to M f ^ ^''^r*'^™«h 
 a conventicle. What i, - ^- °'' worshiping in 
 
 change your miud del 1 1 T ™"* ' ^'""' ^"" »»' 
 
 The slender arms tirtlL if^ ' '"'''™''' "'^r ! " 
 brown face pressed it ?,/!tf"„"7f ' "- pretty little 
 
 "For my sake, sweothetrt ., ^^® "' P"'" '=°'<' cheek, 
 will go to see thee every day' '^^ *°" "'"* ''"'' "m. I 
 
 "'o^jrberd ^o^if : CtS:^ r »- - eome. 
 
 Madem:re,LTidtc:\rd;stX"t'' r '™™'^ '-»-• 
 
 Ignorance. I have been trl el V™ " "ouster of 
 
 have eome te-day had my tiv hV Tf '"^- ^ "<""" ""t 
 not stoop to a hfreli,^ Vietat.on" V ''°'"'' ' ''"* ^ "»« 
 - ~iiadi Warue; Birdt J-Safl^^r ',^' 
 
 'en-aLThrrC^S "°^ "»' ^'"^ ^-» '^ ^e in- 
 "The te word ha» been spoken, Papi„„n. i ^^^ 
 
 IM 
 
4o8 
 
 When The World Was Youiifrcr. 
 
 < . I t 
 
 sent liiin jiwiiy— jiiul it was iu)fc the (irsL timo. I liiid ro- 
 fused him l)oforo. 1 cannot call iiim back." 
 
 "But lioHJiall coiuc without calling, llo i,i your ador- 
 ing slave," cried Jrenricttc, leaping np from the stone 
 bench, and (!la|)i)iiig her hands in an ecstasy. lie will 
 need no calling. Dc^arest, d(>arcst. most excellent adorable 
 auntie ! I am so happy. And my mother will be content. 
 And no one shall ever say you are my father's slave." 
 
 " llenriette, if you repeat that odious word I shall hate 
 you." 
 
 ''Now you are angry. Cud, what a frown! I will 
 repeat no word that angc>rs you. My lady Wanur— sweet 
 Lady Warner. I vow 'tis a prettier name than Kevel or 
 Fareham." 
 
 " You are mad, llenriette. I liave promised nothing." 
 
 "Yes, you have, little aunt. You have promiseif fo 
 drop a curtsey, and say. ' Yes,' when Sir Denzil rides 
 this way. You sent him away in a hulT. lie will come 
 back smiling like yonder sunshine on the v/ater. Oh, I 
 am so happy ! My doing, all my doing." 
 
 "It is useless to argue with you." 
 
 "Quito useless. II n'y a pas do quoi. Nous sommes 
 d'accord. I shall bo your chief bridesmaid. You must be 
 married in her majesty's chapel at St. James's. The Pope 
 will give his dispensation— if you cannot persuade Denzil 
 to change his religion. Were he my suitor I would twist 
 him round my fingers," with an airy gesture of the small 
 brown liand. 
 
 There is nothing more difficult than to convince a child 
 that she pleads in vain for any ardently desired object. 
 Nothing that Angela could say would reconcile her niece to 
 the idea of failure ; so there was no help but to let her 
 fancy her arguments conclusive, and to change the bent of 
 her thoughts if possible. 
 It wanted nearly an hour of dinner-time, so Ant^ola 
 
 «3 
 
I'aticnt Not Passionate. 
 
 Su^gosto(] Jill insDoctioi. nf n. i "^^ 
 
 *!'« litUo ,i„„ 1,„|^ „■„',■,'' ™' " '" '"»"I'l'oiMl..,|. f,„ 
 ;""! ™-»l„,l „, i!, I" ; ^« 'ly'> «t l."n,o i„ „,,,„, 
 
 «'o f,«„,-ito Hc«f„r,l''e„,^ „" "' '"','"'" "'-"'I', fro,,, 
 -;»">■..; .«,„.„, i„ „,„ ;:;• ,;^-; of t„o „„U, to tl. 
 
 r-ilut;:/;;;:;,;:;;',::;;;;;;;:^:' "■"""■; -'-. ■„ *:,„ 
 
 ''""oif ; ,.„„ I.,,,,il|„„ \ ' Ji';7 <■'"'*. H,uU„r„„™,.,| 
 
 »t and ,o,.tod to Lr h™ r , "r'''','™"'^ '"''''.-y. 
 "'"■■row i„„l,li-,fr and tl,o stemtl '. l'""-'"'""*-' "'" 
 
 »;.a„t„„nty of a prof,.:;.,,'';::,',,,:;"-^' """ "'° ""•"-" 
 
 socidiLg,;"" '""-'''^'""-'' --"o "ioV^he said, eondo- 
 
 « «yll.'ln.b ; ,,„t «l,o,vod STrtlf ;'°',"" ■;''"'''™'» 
 Pl-nt at the Jack „f ice to ht; „^.l"'" '""^ ''^ ''- »«m. 
 
 ho„;; stl':i:;ri,:t >7t """ "■""• « -- 
 
 >ivo throng,, thi, woat;;/ t :'t"7"°™"""™ 
 with excessivo languor "'""t loo, fanning herself 
 
 Cm"„!^^' """' *''™ '"" -' «P'>o lofore arriving at 
 
 ^i.~dnXiii;r^^^^^^ 
 
 reminding her pupil that s^^.f!', '"t'° '» ''««""«> 
 l.er will and at the lu^ard „ aUeri, "u 'f "", '"■• "S^'imt 
 "Madame la Baronne ° in 1" *^ """" ^''"■°""''- 
 
 mows what I have do^ oil ease her""''' ""' 7"™ "'" 
 and then, with a hu,t parti„rerbrt; , ■"'1 '"'''''"'''"• 
 
 --o.dnst,iirr:;t:i-s;_^ 
 
vt,m' 
 
 410 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 ilV 
 
 as tho carriago rooked wliilo slio wis moimtitig tlio stops, 
 and with much crackhig of whips and 8wcaring at horst>.-i 
 from tho postilions, who had takon thoir (ill of honio-hrewod 
 alo, liog'a harslot, and cold chine, and, lo, the hrilliant 
 vision of tho Jlonorahlo Hcnrictto Maria and her train 
 vanished in tho dust of the sununor hi<,'h\vay, and An<jola 
 went slowly back to tho long green walk beside the fish- 
 pond, whore she was in as sil.nt asolitnde hut for a linger- 
 ing nightingale or two, as if she had boon in tho palace of 
 the Sleeping lieanty. If all things slumbered not, there 
 was at least as nuirked a pause in life. The Dutch might 
 bo burning more ships, and tho noise of war might^bo 
 coming nearer London with every hour of the summer day. 
 Here there was a repose as of the after-life when all hopes 
 and dreams, and loves and liates are done and ended, and 
 the soul waits in darkness and silence for the next unfold- 
 ing of its wings. 
 
 Those hateful words, " your adoring slave,'' and all that 
 speech of Hyacinth's which the child had repeated, haunted 
 Angela with an agonizing iteration. She had not an in- 
 stant's doubt as to the scene being faithfully reported. 
 She know how pretornatu rally acute Ilonriette's intellect 
 had become in tho rarefied atmosphere of her mother's 
 drawing-room, how accurate her memory, how sharp her 
 ears, and how observant her eyes. AYliatever Ilenriettc 
 reported was likely to be to the very letter and spirit of 
 the scone she had witnessed. And Hyacinth, her sister, 
 had put this shame upon her, and spoken of her in the 
 crudest phrase as loving one whom it was mortal sin to 
 love. Hyacinth, so light, so airy a nature, whom her 
 younger sister had ever considered as a grown-up child, 
 had yet been shrewd enough to fathom her mystery, and 
 to discover that secret attachment which had made Denzil's 
 siiit hateful to her. " And if I do not consent to marry 
 him she will always think ill of me, She will think of me 
 
I^ifcnt Not Passionate. ^^^ 
 
 as a .vrctcli who triorl to steal her hnslvtn.r. l 
 
 afFo..,,iou lu.fon/ f I; " r;; " "'^' '■"" ^''" ^'"^''« 
 Hisu.lorin.Hl.vo!" ^ho qucouH poor phun fa.-o. 
 
 ^ J'^vening shadows woroaroun.l h(M- m, i i 
 
 into tho Tvoods, was «lowIv ' '""^ ^vun,l(^re(l 
 
 e.lgo of u Uoded hill ''""^ ^"'^"^ ^^""^' ^''fe^'' "'-ve tho 
 ills adorin" slm-n " ,.i 
 
 'Iiili'fiil, liiimiliiitii,,, vonh I Vnt ti, 
 rapture i„ repoatin? tl,",,, Tl,' ^ ''"' " ""^^ 
 
 Wm to the w,.„, and o . jt" " '""""' ""=' ' '» '""o^v 
 -"I wait i„ hi, ten t ; i ' ^ "::'■;■■' '"" ''°W '■- I.or.e, 
 woun.ls where .urgoen/Mell i ""''"'' '""' '"'»' I"'" 
 
 «ity of attention n1, ,' '1 > '''''' ,""*">«"'"' ".ton- 
 give ; to beln's Boll . io k ' If- "''"''' '"^'^ »'<"'» "-" 
 notlnng, hardly for LI'. l:'.;""" "' """' ''■"'■"" '"- 
 going woman's claim unormau' ', 7" """•'"'->• '"'"- 
 nothing only to be near him '^' '»""'""» ''e 
 
 . If such a life cotild have been-thn llf n . 
 .magined for despairing love ' T^tn! . "" '"'"'^ ''"™ 
 years since handsome Mr s'ontl Jn In "'"" " '"""'™' 
 »«Iley to Italy, di.„M ,«! '""?■'"' •'*'■■■ Ji"''«rt 
 
 romance was p„s Tl !.? i '"'°''- "'" *''" -'go of 
 
 for s„eh dreamt """'"' '™"'' '""' "'"y l-.gMer 
 
 Tl]at revelation of Ilvnclnfiv'c • i 
 matters to a crisis W '"'^^"'^ ^^^^^ ^^^^gl^t 
 
 quickly, to set her ri.ht vTth l"' T' '^ ^^^^ ^^^ 
 esteem. She had to ^c^" V f ' ""V'"' "' ''' ^^^" 
 »na th, convent Bv p^ ^ ''''' '" ^°"'^^«^ "^^^nage 
 • ^^ "'^^P<^^«^ 0"e or the other she 
 
412 
 
 When The World Was Younfjer. 
 
 h i'' 
 
 muHt prove that she was not the slave of a dishonorable 
 love. 
 
 Marriage or the convent ? It had been easy, contem- 
 plating the step from a distance to choose the convent. 
 But when she thought to-night, amidst the exquisite beauty 
 of th(iH() woods, with tlie moonlit valley lying at her feet, 
 the winding stream reflecting the moonbeams, or veiled in 
 a silvery haze— to-night, in the liberty and loneliness of 
 the earth, the vision of convent walls filled her with a 
 sluKhhjring iK.rror. To be shut in that Flemish garden for 
 ever; her life enclosed within the straight lines of that 
 long green alley leading to a dead wall, darkened over by 
 flowerless ivy— how witheringly dull the old life showed, 
 looking buck at it after years of liberty and enjoyment, 
 action and variety. No, no, no ! She could not bury 
 herself alive, could not forego the liberty to wander in a 
 wood like this, to gaze upon scenes as beautiful as yonder 
 valley, to read the poets she loved, to see, perhaps, some 
 day those romantic scenes which she knew but as dreams- 
 Florence, Vallombrosa— to follow the footsteps of Milton, 
 to see the Venice she had read of in Howell's letters, to 
 kneel at tiie feet of the Holy Father, in the city of cities. 
 All these things would be forever forbidden to her if she 
 chose tbe common escape from earthly sorrow. 
 
 She thought of her whose example had furnished the 
 theme of many a discourse at the convent, Mazarin's lovely 
 niece, the Princess de Conti, who, in the bloom of < nvly 
 womatihood, Avas awakened from the dream of this life to 
 the reality of Heaven, and had renounced the pleasures 
 of the most brilliant court in the world for the severities 
 of Port Koyal. She thought of that sublime heretic Ferrar, 
 whose later experience was one long prayer. Of how much 
 baser a clay must she be fashioned Avhen her too earthly 
 heart olung so fondly to the loveliness of earth, and shrank 
 with aversion from the prospect of a long life within 
 
fe.5a*t-s«S(!i*^^^3Sa 
 
 lishonoi-ablc 
 
 Patient Not Passionate. ^,. 
 
 those ™,,3 ,v,.o,o i,er o,.i,.,.„oa Ua been so peaoer„I and 
 
 ha:b"i: rS Jz,::.:;="'', "i ^°™i"-' «"« ^eaH 
 
 life wl,ieh ,™ onee n ™ '; ; 2, '^""°''' " ""™ *'»' 
 worse tlian the grave AnvtM "v "''^«<'™8 to mo 
 
 world, rather t,L tit tC'S? ""= "' ''"'^ "' t'- 
 
 fc>iie was in tlio ffardon ntvf r^ ' • 
 ^leepless night, andthe t^ , Sf 't1,U,?'''"' ''"^?- " 
 abont among the cottages carrvi "tT '" *■'<"■'? 
 
 which she had been in tChab ?' f r .,™"" """""'-'^ 
 ing patiently to those varioi^}^"^ "'""' »"'' "«'«"- 
 
 vorygladt„%eIate to ller ae'trT^ .T'"'' '''"y ^'o 
 road to the siek, and L ..bh b, *^^ "'" "''""™' ""1 
 keep her thoughts fro 1' j "oo T "■"T' ,"' '^"""^ *» 
 own trouble. After the n ?, ? Persistently upon her 
 
 offended old Kenben We.: t" h "rl^^ """"'."' '^'-'> »'» 
 (or a woodland ramblei « f^ d '''/'f ""»"' *° "™' 
 set wlien she returned to tie ^' ' '' """' "e^r sun- 
 two road-staineri orse ; j rr ^""t "' """^ '» ''ee the 
 . Sir John had eon ,o™' s ,:7f ^T "'° """ ""-• 
 ing parlor, sitting gloomy and t '^™:"\'!™ i" "■» <lin- 
 tabie wh Heuben was ^.l^n^Utr, ^^'"^^ *^« 
 
 poor^tmXr; ;;\i:r" ^r- >- "- "- » 
 
 looked up at his dl^^hte " U ^ .^nJ"; 1"' """ '"™ 
 went towards him. "''■>' S^'"'""' "s she 
 
 you ite%tLraTiu"^ttr/"r t?^"*- '--'^ ->- 
 
 pull off your boots, w ile KelTM!,'"''^'' >-<""- ^l'-«. ""d 
 
 "Nay. child, tlut isnfanw"'::X"''--t^''°--" 
 
 yours. TJie boots are „„ , ""^ ^""'' ^"gers as 
 
 of shoe that piSes, l;;;r " "''™""'-''- "»"- icind 
 
 on t: k^i sh™ id- '"''^ '""^ ^^--'-P'' ™d ->.iIo 
 
414 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 sad, sir. I fear you found ill news at 
 
 " You look 
 London." 
 
 "I found such shame as never before came upon En-. 
 land, such confusion as only traitors and profligates ca'n 
 know ; men who have cheated and lied aid wasted the 
 public money, left our fortresses undefended, our ships 
 unarmed, our sailors unpaid, half-fed, and mutinous- 
 clamorous wives crying aloud in the streets that thei; 
 usbands should not fight and bleed for a king who starved 
 
 If tt r. ^'^'^f^'^l]''^ *'^« «co"^^drel who had charge 
 of the yard at Chatham in the Tower, but will that mend 
 matters ? A scapegoat, belike, to pay for higher scoundrels. 
 I he mob IS loudest against the chancellor, who I doubt is 
 not to blame for our unreadiness, having little power of 
 late over the king. Oh, there has been iniquity upon in- 
 iqmty, and men know not whom most to blame-the venal 
 Idle servants, or the master of all. 
 
 " You mean that men blame his majesty ?" 
 " ^O' Angela. But when our ships were blazing at Chat- 
 ham, and the Dutch triumphing, the cry was ' Oh, for an 
 hour of old Xoiy Charles has played his cards so Ihal he 
 has made the loyalist hearts in England wish the Brewer 
 back again. They called him the tiger of the seas. We 
 have no tigers now, only asses and monkeys. Whv there 
 was scarce a grain of sense left in London. The be.it' of the 
 drums calling out the trainbands seemed to have stupefied 
 the people Everywhere madness and confusion. Thev 
 have sunk their richest argosies at Barking Creek to block 
 the river, Lut the Dutch break chains, ride over sunken 
 sliips, laugh our petty defences to scorn. " 
 "Dear sir, this confusion cannot last." 
 " It will last as long as the world's history lasts. Our 
 iiumihation will never be forgotten." 
 
 " But Englishmen will not look on idle. Thpre mu=t 
 m brave men up in arm§," 
 
w 
 
 Patient Not Passionate. 
 
 415 
 " Oh, there are brave monenon<rl, i?,- . 
 Bethel], Norton. Tlie PtZyZ: ^"' I"«°l'fel'y, 
 
 our troubles. Your broti ort 1 ""T "> ""^ ^O"' '" 
 
 there is „„ lack oroffiee' "T " "" "'."' ^°"' ^''""'^"•". 
 but our merchant shTps J,™k J^'™,""'^ »■■« '"''■'? »k«l, 
 
 hang back. Our treX;; 'emnt°v''b U T"'' !° ''^'^ «^' 
 London bankrupt S ^, ^' ' "'° g°ld™i'hs in 
 
 our ships thatte tken^Tviu'rot f "" "■"'' »'» 
 again. The 'Roval ChZ' ■ ^° <=onjured back 
 
 triumph. Oh X it r . n"',"^ °« ^""' ■"^'''ti'-g 
 shame ! " ' " '' ""' ">° '"^'^ that galls, it is thf 
 
 Anli';t:dSi:i^'rs,°"' -' r *»■<-' »'>'-^'' 
 
 and persuaded him to cal """ ^''" """'i the ham for him, 
 
 e^'^-t'^^^^^^^^^^ so sad,, 
 
 back in his chair with a heavy sH, " """« '"'»»'*« 
 
 can bear a bnrden^as "Sany" ' '""^ '^ ^™""- " 
 ,;;; ,?» ^» --t a disobedient daughter among y„„r eares, 
 
 " I'isobedient is too harsh a word r f„l,i 
 never force your inclinations. It T ,, ,t ^^ ? ":""'<' 
 a»g..r. Who has disappointed m::\„y-^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 his chair. "^^ ciropping on her knees beside 
 
 " What ! has that stony heart relented ? WiU f i 
 nim, sweetheart V \v,-u • ^^^"^t-a . U ilt thou marrv 
 
U iJ' 
 
 416 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 your heart easier, sir, and Denzil be still of the same 
 
 mind " 
 
 " His mind is rock, dearest. He swore to me that he 
 could never change. Ah, love, you have made me happy ! 
 Let the fleet burn, the 'Eoyal Charles' fly Dutch colors. 
 Here, in this quiet valley, there shall be a peaceful household 
 and united hearts. Angela, I love that youth ! Fareham, 
 with all his rank and wealth, has never been so dear to me. 
 That stern visage repels love. But Denzil's countenance 
 is open as the day. I can say ' Nunc Dimittis ' with a 
 light heart. I can trust Denzil Warner with my daughter's 
 happiness.' 
 
 >H 
 
 fc^;-■- 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIV. 
 
 '' QUITE OUT OF FASHION.'* 
 
 Denzil received good news by the hands of a mounted 
 messenger in the following forenoon. 
 
 The knight had written, " Ride— ride— ride ! " in the 
 Elizabethan style, on the cover of his letter, which con- 
 tained but two brief sentences — 
 
 " Womanlike, she has changed her mind. Come when 
 thou wilt, dear son." 
 
 And the son-in-law-to-be lost not an hour. He was at 
 the Manor before nightfall. He was a member of the quiet 
 household again, subservient to his mistress in everything, 
 and submitted to be used somewhat ill from the lover's 
 standpoint. 
 
 " There are some words that must needs be spoken be- 
 fore we are agreed," Angela said, when they found thei - 
 selves alone for the first time in the garden, on the morning 
 after his return, and when Denzil would fain have taken 
 
" Quite Out Of Fashion." 
 
 )f the same 
 
 a mounted 
 
 Come when 
 
 , 41/ 
 
 her to his breast and ratified their betrothal with . kiss 
 
 your heart, though your hJd i ^n « 1" '"yTTT 
 no despairof being loved in as full nTe . t a Ilol \ ° 
 fth .s strong in the power of an honest Sion " ^ 
 
 Yon may at least be sore of my honesty I ,> f 
 nothmff but thp rlo=„-,.„ » i, ■' """"^V- i profess 
 
 wife—-" ° *° '"' y™' true and obedient 
 
 •'Obedient ! You shall be my empress." 
 iNo, no, I have no wish to rnlp t i • 
 .nak^my father happ, and you Too t, if V^ar- °"'^ '" 
 to lef t^r- ' :: 1^° ""' "" y-- You have but 
 rather be mserablewLfv T^l'''' ^ "'""" ' "»»W 
 woman. lT"eT y fJill"'! "'Ttj''' ""^ "'"^^ 
 be weaker than Soerate"^. B t yt'afe ajru"''' ' ""' 
 feet Christian, perfect woman C cam^ t'"T ■"" 
 perfect as wifo_and-" """ "=«""«; 
 
 Another word trembled on his lins • b„t i , , , 
 h^self lest he should offend, and Z .^h tdtd ta 
 
 "My Angela, mj angel." 
 
 t:itrei:tntirr:riif r^ 
 
 once, but many times in 1!^^, , T "'" =" 5 ""*■ 
 before the fiery beat o,^ ^ t f>'' """""d^ip, 
 flowersinhereartlX J. /,"".'''''' '""'°™' »" "'» 
 evil had c.onde7t;;iS:tr tU'd ''"°*''- "^ 
 A^Rentle peace reigned at the Manor' after Angela's 
 
I); 
 
 11 f 
 
 I '" 
 
 '■^ ':'f 
 
 i.'t 
 
 
 '-f-r 
 
 418 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 betrothal. Sir John was happier than he had been since 
 the days of his youth, before the coming of that cloud no 
 bigger than a man's hand, when John Hampden's stub- 
 born resistance of a thirty-shilling rate had brought the 
 crown and the people face to face upon the burning ques- 
 tion of ship-money, and kindled the fire that was to de- 
 vour England. From the hour he left his young wife to 
 follow the king to Yorkshire, Sir John's life had known 
 little of rest or of comfort, or even of glory. He had 
 fought on the losing side, and had missed the fame of 
 those who fell and took the rank of heroes by an untimely 
 death. Hardship and danger, wounds and sickness, 
 straitened means and scanty fare had been his portion for 
 three bitter years, and then had come a period of patient 
 service, of schemes and intrigues foredoomed to failure ; 
 of going to and fro, from Jersey to Paris, from Paris to 
 Ireland, from Ireland to Cornwall, journeying hither and 
 thither at the behest of a shifty irresolute man, or a passion- 
 ate imprudent woman, as the case might be ; now from flie 
 king to the queen, now from the queen to this or that ally ; 
 futile errands, unskillful combinations, failure on every 
 hand till the last fatal journey, on which he was an un- 
 willing attendant, the flight from Hampton Court to Titch- 
 field, breaking faith with his enemies in an unfinished 
 negotiation. 
 
 Foreign adventure had followed English hardships, and 
 the soldier had been tossed on the stormy sea of European 
 warfare. He had been graciously received at the French 
 court, but only to feel himself a stranger there, and to 
 have his English clothes and English accent laughed at by 
 Grammont and Bus5y, and the accomplished St. Evre- 
 mond, and the frivolous herd of their imitators ; to see 
 even the queen, for whom he had spent his last jacobus, 
 smile behind her fan at his bevues, and whisper to her 
 sister-in-law while he knelt to kiss the little white hand 
 
It 
 
 that had led a king to 
 
 Quite Out Of Fashion." 
 
 ruin. 
 
 419 
 
 Ever where the stern .Maliff. 
 
 nant Imd foiuid him,plf * • ,'''f ■"■'"»■<= "'o stern JI 
 
 newly-built Place Toya L 'ia t, '" T"^"! ''""^"^ "' ">« 
 H.e taverns of cour rrlL!'° *"'»"«, """'•I'os.es, and 
 
 Cormier's or at thpfnolpri:;''' p""'f°" J'"^''' »' 
 where it was all the better ^^r a f I """' '''= '" ''"»™«. 
 understand the talk of [1.^ * ' "*^'''"'""''°"» 
 there. Everywhere ho ZT "' ""''"'* "'"> d™'^ 
 It was only under oanvosl^ , " " ''™"S<"- "-l »loof. 
 lost the se,L of beinro^; ''d»"g<»-and privation, that he 
 
 John Kirklandfo,rd\l,el?:r, ",'*'"' '"''^- T''-" 
 Cond6 and Turenne tL sTott f" '° "'""'"'"■ '"» 
 -Mier in Louis's splendid ZyZtZT T"' '" "» 
 earlier race even beffpr ,-,., T. ' , ^ ^^'^ ^^^"^P of an 
 that heroic p2co e SL j' r 't '"" "^ -™ 
 
 t;on :Sf:;s S::: crdi:;".tttv'r ^'^- 
 ».%ttht:tz$«i;-£^ 
 
 pleased with her caresses wa^h,"' """""y' "d "as 
 the lightness of her d Z'-iT; 7? """"«'' *» P^'o^ve 
 
 mind. lie reToiccd iX ""^ "''' '"'""""^^^ o* her 
 
 ham's strongXatte? ™'™»"° ^""^ ^ »™ »' W 
 
 to ^irni^^-t" t'r ht :„^ t™' r!- r" "^"^ '- 
 
 "You have tat to oboy^aZt ^t'?{\^<^i>^"'^- 
 enough to indulge all 4.,,. f • '"PP^' '^ he 13 r wh 
 
 if you waste th g Id , a/l Id'f' ""^ ""' "°* ^""P'-n 
 the decoration of^ur'po'orSea^rr^-^ "' ^oot on 
 
 »i. el^-^rr^nltit Jlnlrr r; '""^ ^-»' 
 ti^e .miner,, answered HyaoStiCCtoSt 
 
420 
 
 When The World Was Youimcn 
 
 r.! 
 
 1 i< 
 
 ^^^■^R' 
 
 t , ^«Mn 
 
 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^'S> 
 
 1^ 
 
 curtsey, which she was ever ready to practise at the «light- 
 est provocation. 
 
 " Nay, potito chatto, you know I think you the loveliest 
 creature at Saint Germain or the Louvre, far surpassing ip. 
 beauty the Cardinal's niece, who has managed to set young 
 Louis's heart throbbing with a boyish passion. But I 
 doubt you bestow too much care to the cherishing of a 
 gift so fleeting," 
 
 " You have said the word, sir. 'Tis because it is so fleet- 
 ing I must needs take care of my beauty. AVe poor women 
 are like the butterflies and the roses. We have as brief a 
 summer. You men, who value us only for our outward 
 show, should pardon some vanity in creatures so ephem- 
 erah 
 
 " Ephemeral scarce applies to a sex which owns such an 
 example as your grandmother, who has lived to reckon her 
 servants among the grandsons of her earliest lovers." 
 
 " Not lived, sir ! No woman lives after thirty. She can 
 but exist, and dream that she is still admired. La mar- 
 quise has been dead for the last twenty years, but she won't 
 own it. Ah, sir, c'est un triste supplice to have been ! I 
 wonder how these poor ghosts can bear that earthly purga- 
 tory which they call old age. Look at Madame de Sable, 
 par exomple, once a beauty, now only a tradition ; and 
 Queen Anne. Old people say she was beautiful, and that 
 Buckingham risked being torn by wild horses— like Ra- 
 vaillac— only to kiss her hand by stealth in a moonlit gar- 
 den, and plunged England in war but for an excuse to come 
 back to Paris. AVho would go to war for Anne's haggard 
 countenance nowadays ? " 
 
 Even in Lady Fareham's household the cavalier soon 
 began to fancy himself an inhabitant too much ; a dull, 
 gray figure out of a tragical past. lie could not keep him- 
 self from talking of the martyred king, and those bitter 
 years through which ho had followed his masters sinking 
 
"Quite Out 0/ Fashion." „, 
 
 fortunes. IIo tola stories o( York ami „f I! , 
 ecM-cily of casl, wj.ich redL,I , m ^''"''■•"ey, of tlio 
 one tuWe. of tl.at U te w //f^"''^'' ^°"'' '» ^ut 
 omens thut had mar ™1 f "■°™'*''>'' »' "« evil 
 
 fliiod -perstufoutil";^ ■;":;"»! °' *•;» ='»-'-'' ™d 
 
 ■ninded old men of fct t d J ' {"'"'^'odmg,, and re- 
 Churles was proelltd ,' W °T'n ^ 'T "'»' ''"" >"'» 
 cession, and '„, the s fek „f I ^^^^ °" "'^ l'"^ »' '"» -"o- 
 day of Edgehill and Lindsey's Si tf Z '' ^T"""" 
 duet of the Cavalier regiment !nd, f ''", '^''"' '""■ 
 
 influenee u^rrdotr^^^LT^'"-' -^ '^^ 'ata. 
 
 Sir jt""f^:tt:'i,*rn""i''"f »"' '»" •'->'"-« 
 
 evil genius." ^ " ''"c'^'ngh'.m was the king's 
 
 de'xtrll^t^r ;trVttV°"^'^ °' "'^«»» 
 King Charles's execution Ll ,^ "' reminiscences. 
 
 of history. HemW ™"^/' "*" *''" "^^ g^^ 
 
 Cinq Mars, or of £ or'"' ""'" *>" ""^lo'^^ "f ' 
 W Lifiwent „ r.>n, 1 . "' "' °' M™"' <»' Abra- 
 had Conde tl k aS ilr.,"' ""'f"'™ ^^*- ^^^^ 
 and the opera, thattw mportSn'';:^"^™? "'^"^'' 
 cardinal was brin^in.^ intrrr ' ''"'>"' *'""li «'e 
 
 «n.aif a d„.e„'yrrhrk SXid: was t r " r' 
 
 esting subject, and even ih.^ ^ °^^^ ^^*er- 
 
 adventures^ of \hf drh^'' tZrcTo ftr'"" '' "'" 
 pnson, the intrigues of can i,„l ZT "'" J"'""^<' '" 
 
 yellow-haired Beaufort d,l ', fi ''"'"'' """•^oiselle, 
 
 ancient history as eomptS^ with votH o'™""'"!,-?." 
 pass on for Marip rip Mo • • . ^ ^ ^"'^"^^ »nd h s 
 wily uncle to Zry^U "7;;"*. ">^ ^«''™™S of her 
 embryo kings. """" '° '■'"8«">g P"nces or 
 
 And then the afleetations and eonoeil. of that elegant 
 
 ??M3 
 
.wilt' 
 
 422 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 i, I 
 
 I n 
 
 
 Ill 
 
 i» ' 
 
 I* .J- 
 
 f ^ ivl 
 
 h^i^^rWWWsim. 
 
 
 
 circle, the sonnets and madrigals, the "bouta-rimC'S," the 
 practical jokes, tlio logic-chopping and straw-splitting of 
 those nltra-fine hitellects, the romances where the person- 
 ages of the day masf|ueruded under Greek or Roman or 
 Oriental aliases, hooks written in a floAvery language which 
 the Cavalier did not understand, and full of allusions that 
 were dark to him ; while not to know and appreciate those 
 masterworks placed him outside the pale. 
 
 He rejoiced in escaping from that overcharged atmos- 
 phere to the tavern, to the camp, anywhere, lie followed 
 the exiled Stuarts in their wanderings, paid his homage to 
 the Princess of Orange^ roamed from scene to scene, a tran- 
 ger and one too many wherever ho went. 
 
 Then came the hardest blow of all — the chilling disillu- 
 sion that awaited all Charles's faithful friends, who were 
 not of such political importance as to command tl eir rec- 
 ompense. Neglect and forgetfulness were Sir John Kirk- 
 land's portion, and for him and for such as he ti.at caustic 
 definition of the Act of Indemnity was a hard and cruel 
 truth. It was an Act of Indemnity for the king's enemies 
 and of oulivion for his friends. Sir John's spirits had 
 hardly recovered from the bitterness of disappointed affec- 
 tion when he came back to the old home, though his cha- 
 grin Avas ^even years old. But now in his delight at the 
 alliance with Denzil Warner he seemed to have renewed 
 his lease of cheerfulness and bodily vigor. He rode and 
 walked about the lanes and woods >/ith erect head and 
 elastic limbs. He played 1)owls with Denzil in the summer 
 evenings. He went fishiiig with his daughter and her 
 sweetheart. He reveled in the simple rustic life, and told 
 them stories of his boyhood, when James was king, and 
 many a queer story of that eccentric monarch and of Buck- 
 ingham. 
 
 " Ah, what a history that was ! " he exclaimed. "His 
 niotlier trained him as if Avith a foreknowledge of that 
 
"Quite Out Of Fashion." 
 
 argod atmos- 
 lle followed 
 
 cene, a . tran- 
 
 to pit,,_„„, t„ ^, • " 2 '■■"'f ".'-"■"■■^.' to think no,. 
 
 Of fence. He coul.l kill ].; • '"^* " ^"^^'" "lodcs 
 
 Italian, „r t„o Spanlhnla r,,™";,-''" '"'■^-'■- " "- 
 
 "man brillmnt and d„„ge™7 ,,/ '""' "'»'™" ■""!<'' 
 
 rwift':. '1""- '-""'« '■■ ™ to, t :t::"'ir ""■^ "'"« 
 
 switt as a shoot 11 -r st.„. fmr.. 1 • ^' ^^0 fisceiuh'd 
 
 the level .( prinocl An t '*"" T"''' «ent,cn,an „ 
 astonished to (i„d l.in.J If 1 /'I !''"' "" ejaculation, 
 
 were yesterday h„„ „,in h»kod tid J, 'T'™','""' "^ " '' 
 0'.me to London, and how some s' d t .^ "'l™ ""■ """ 
 tlie saving of King Charles ft J ™"''" ''""''l ho 
 
 who was gla,l." ° "• ^ '"'»»' »' oao man at least 
 
 ''Who wa, he, sir ? " „sked Denzil 
 
 tance fron, the kin! nnatZfZ " "*' '"'" "' " <J«- 
 seothing with indignation „t I f P^^^'o^te temper was 
 sybarite-an impot;, ge , ,!;r".f 7V"»"' hy that' siik™ 
 fte favorite's death there e .m '„ " ■ , ™™«elor. After 
 The pestilenee had passed, X;.;"™ """' """ "'"'"y- 
 happy with his Ilenriette ■, , 1 tl , ' °'''"'- ^'Iiarlos was 
 -erthwas in IrehnuIlV't-l^'r '''■''''■""• ^^-t- 
 empty, doors shnt, swallowsZiur ''°'''«'^tood still and 
 look back, and those plaei y " tcit"" " "i" «''™'- ^ 
 one long summer. And th .„ " "'° """h other like 
 hear ffnmnden'- 1 "'hen, again, as 'twere vcfonhu r 
 — iiipcicn 3 drums and fife« i,, *i, i ." ■teruay, X 
 
 rebel's flag with that hateful WcLd V T"' """ '<"' "'» 
 
 legend. Vestigia aulJa retror- 
 
 ' 
 
424 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 '^ 
 
 Et(4( I t r I -t 
 
 4 
 
 sum, and Biuikingluinisliin! peasants are under arms, and 
 the king and his people have begun to hate and fear caeh 
 other." 
 
 " None foresaw that the war would last so long or end 
 in murder, I doubt, sir," said Aiigola. 
 
 ** Nay, child ; we who were loyal thought to see that 
 rabble withered by the breath of kingly nostrils. A word 
 should have brought them to the dust, 
 
 " There might be so easy a victory, perhaps, sir, from a 
 king who knew how to speak the right word at the right 
 moment, how to comply graciously with a just demand, 
 and how to be firm in a righteous denial," replied Denzil , 
 " but with Charles a stammering speech was but the out- 
 ward expression of a wavering mind. He was a man who 
 never listened to an appeal, but always yielded to a threat, 
 were it only loud enough." 
 
 The wedding was to be soon. Marriages were patched up 
 quickly in the light-hearted sixties. And here there was 
 nothing to wait for. Sir John had found Denzil compliant 
 in every minor question, and willing U make his home at 
 the Manor during his mother's lifetime. 
 
 " The old lady would never stomach a Papist daughter- 
 in-law,** said Sir John ; and Denzil was fain to confess that 
 Lady Warner would not easily reconcile herself with 
 Angela*s creed, though she could not fail of loving Angela 
 herself. 
 
 " My daughter would have neither peace nor liberty 
 under a Puritan's roof," Sir John said; "and I should 
 have neither son nor daughter, and shculd be a loser 
 by my girl's marriage. You shall be as much master 
 here, Denzil, as if this were your own house — which it 
 will be when I have moved to my last billet. Give me a 
 couple of stalls for my roadsters and kennel room for my 
 dogs, and I want no more. You and Angela may introduce 
 as many new fashions as you like ; dine at two o'clock, and 
 
"Quite Out Of Fashion." 
 
 425 
 sip your uiiwliolramrio In.lii.ri ilrii.t „» 
 fluo liuliiM i„ l.„,i, J' ' "' »" ogling- Tlio 
 
 was l,.rt tJ.ZJZ^rT'"^ '," """' """ -"'»■' I 
 
 »t,„r it mi«,,t^t 'to7 iir",'"-^ """'" "™^ "'° 
 
 your tire^UU, as I „scl s.n.ctim' , the u"" TJ "' 
 
 -.w,,„ut,,„sostnatiu,o„„ier^r:i::,t.!^^^^^^^ 
 
 gravel path o„ two n ] o ^b. f""' j'T'^"^ '''''^ '''' 
 
 walked languidly v l.o "'^ ^'"^'' ^^^^^''"^"^' ^^'^'^ 
 
 „iiiuij, Willi tJio assistiirifp nf o „,ii i i -■ 
 
 cane, and wl,o l„„k«, j,„,e ,„„1 t ' j.. f. : ^'''' "'"""'■"* 
 satin sown and silvor-briidedi'li'o "'^^'°-«'<'°" 
 
 blie too came attended bv a spon.,,! ^ . 
 ffllod by i,„. ladyship's Fr.l Cato IZf-M: " I'l ™ 
 and a pile of boxes and parcels '''""'• 
 
 sw::":r;;ircettXVt"i^^^^^^^^^^ t -- 
 rer""r^;:tr!:dtt,'"?^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 harridan from LonZ ' ' "' "'^ "'«''* "* ""at painted 
 
 Angela blushed at those words "vonf,,™ , 
 knowing how little there hadbeen of ^H "■ T""™'" 
 or in Dentil's sober co, r shin i ,''""'°"«'>''• 
 
 had been but one ro„Zcet''h„" r I'd th !"' '"T 
 one whioh she .„st ever re^e^rer wShTe J : " ^'""^ 
 Come, now, eonfess yo„ have not a gown dered " 
 I have gowns enough and to snare ni, f , , 
 you come so far to tjk of ^oZJ,' Z ^ f ' r "™ 
 womau tool What bronght'her h ret"',* "si"'" 
 wun more .emper than she was wont to show ^ "' 
 
 'Mys.sterlyk.nd„es, brought her. Yol are an nn- 
 
426 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 grateful hussy for looking vexed when I have come a score 
 of miles through the dust to do you a service." 
 
 '* Ah, dearest, I am grateful to you for coming. But, 
 alas, you are looking pale and thin. Heaven forbid that 
 you have been indisposed, and we in ignorance of your 
 suffering." 
 
 ** No, I am well enough, though every one assures me 
 I look ill ; which is but a civil mode of telling me I am 
 growing old and ugly." 
 
 " Nay, Hyacinth, the former we must all become, with 
 time ; the latter you will never be." 
 
 ''Your servant. Sir Denzil, has taught you to pay 
 antique compliments. ^ Well, now we will talk business. 
 I have to send for Lewin — my toilet was in a horrid state 
 of decay ; and then it seemed to me, knowing your foolish 
 indifference, that even your wedding gown would not be 
 chosen unless I saw to it. So here is Lewin with Lyons 
 and Genoa silks of the very latest patterns. She has but 
 just come from Paris, and is full of Parisian modes and 
 court scandals. The king posted off to Versailles directly 
 after his mother's death, and has not returned to the 
 Louvre since. lie amuses himself by spending millions on 
 building, and making passionate love to Mademoiselle la 
 Valliere, who encourages him by pretending an excessive 
 modesty, and exaggerates every favor by penitential tears. 
 I doubt his attachment to so melancholy a mistress will 
 hardly last a lifetime. Slie is not beautiful ; she has a 
 halting gait ; and she is no more virtuous than any other 
 young woman who makes a show of resistance to enhance 
 the merit of her surrender. 
 
 Hyacinth prattled all the way to the parlor, Mrs. Lewin 
 and the waiting woman following, laden with parcels. 
 
 "Queer dear old hovel! "she exclaimed, sinking lan- 
 guidly upon a tabouret, and fanning herself exhaustively, 
 while the mantua-maker opened her boxes, and laid out 
 
"Quite Out Of Fashion." 
 
 3ome a score 
 
 whipped over „ry home:b„ok r S \V;Tom" 'f? 
 there ,s the bo,vli„g green where I usecl t„7ace T't, t 
 grejhonnd my grandmother brouo-ht m„ f » "''"" 
 look back, aud it seems a dream "f L™^ ^eh id™' ' 
 mng about in tlie sunshine It i. =„ 1 ,! , " "'"■ 
 ioyons little being-wl kLw no be '° '"'"°''<' "'"' 
 ache-was I." ' ""^ "'oauing of heart- 
 
 oaCSbrtarg'i';:.?"-'^ ™"^ ^-^ ""^ '- 
 
 in this wide world who eares^a sttw w fterT- " T T 
 some or hideous ? I would as lief bT T , , ™ '"""'■ 
 neglected." '' '" '^""^ "^ '^'^'^Pisod and 
 
 "Sorella mia, qnesta te as colta," murmured A„„„1 
 
 wCe drtittif CT' ^^-r^'"' 
 
 turning! the mant a "Xr, X^IZZ 'T""""'" 
 and gold embroideries have n'o tempt tnifo;::e^Tf 
 marrymg a country gentlcma,., and am to 1„ " 
 
 try life. My gowns must be nch as will n„ , ' ""T 
 by a walk in dusty lanes or a visit t„/ ," 'P°'" 
 cottage." *'' '° " '"™ hiborer's 
 
 "Eh, gud, your ladyship, do not tell mo that vr,,, „ u 
 
 patches 0^ a iCnch S^<^^ ^TsSo :'"^-r"'°"' 
 But to live in the country ! oZ a f kn f"!' ''" S"""'''- 
 ever propose more than .4 ann:;l-[si..^: ^^ :T 
 s.on to a wife under sixty. Lord Che.Lfi' 1 "" 
 
 siaered as cruel for taking his c^'nt'ttlhe'rZ ^d 
 
428 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 t 
 
 ravines of Derbyshire as Sir John Dcnham for poisoning 
 his poor lady." 
 
 " Chut ! tu vas un pen trop loin, Lewin ! " remonstrated 
 Lady Fareham. 
 
 " But in truly, your ladyship, when I hear Mrs. Kirk- 
 land talk of a husband who would have her waste her 
 beauty upon clod-polls and dairy-maids, and never wear a 
 mantua worth looking at " 
 
 ** I doubt my husband will be guided by his own likings 
 rather than by Mrs. Lewin's tastes and opinions," said 
 Angela, with a stately curtsey, which was designed to put 
 the forward tradeswoman in her place, and which took 
 that personage's breath ;iway. 
 
 " There never was anything like the insolence of a 
 handsome young woman before she was educated by 
 a lover," she said to her ladyship's Frenchwoman, with 
 a vindictive smile and scornful shrug of bloated shoulders, 
 when the sisters had left the parlor. " But wait till 
 her first intrigue, and then it is ' My dearest Lewin, wilt 
 thou make me everlastingly beholden to thee by tak- 
 ing this letter — thou knowest to whom. ?' Or, in a flood 
 of tears, ' Lewin, you are my only friend — and if you 
 cannot find me some good and serviceable woman who 
 would give me a home Avhore I can hide from the cruel 
 eye of the world, I must take poison.' No insolence, then, 
 mark you, Madame Hortense. Jaycola feel doon doochess 
 dongla pooshare a may pee-ays. Ong ploor, ong m'offre 
 day diamonds, dong valoor innooay." 
 
 This plunge into a foreign tongue was unnecessary, as 
 Hortense understood English as well as Mrs. LcAvin did. 
 
 " This demoiselle is none of your sort," she said. " You 
 must not judge English ladies by your maids of honor. 
 Celles la sont des drolesses, sans foi ne loi." 
 
 " Well, if she thinks I am going to make up linsey 
 woolsey, or Norwich drugget, she will find her mistake. 
 
 !|: 
 
"Quite Out Of Fashion." 4,^ 
 
 »ir„;r r-^ ^-- "™^ -->- -: z 
 
 me the order. I am no servant of Madam Kirkland " 
 
 wife iu England; (or I bel eve yo" p"iton ,„ ''?'«* 
 person, the very opposite of our Lrt sparks who Tl ^ 
 moat meorrigible villains. Ah, sweet ?,y„Vard L" 
 Btories Lewm tels me— even of tl,.,t ,„ l, , ""^ 
 eoarce o«t of his teens Tnrt fhl t\ ^ ""« I^o^'x^'ter- 
 than thoki„g_a„d Uh s^l^h 1 "'"=°-"°* '^ J"' b-Wer 
 Wen, you wm he «"t h '&S;!; "^'?-*^ 
 yonr wedding night at Fareham I ole ^'Z. ''"""' 
 great aapper. His Majesty will 00"; of co. ' li! 
 owes lis that much civility " ^'^ 
 
 " Hav« y^^^ not ? Why, you shone and sparkled like . 
 star, that last night you were evpr nf wiVi n xl 
 sitting close beside you. 'T was Te nf J . t\/'^" 
 
 fever. Was it a fever ^ TIZ " . °^ '" "^ « 
 •* xcver . 1 iiave wondered sometimes 
 
430 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 whether there w* > not a mystery of attempted mnrder be- 
 hind that long sickness." 
 
 "Murder!" 
 
 "A deadly duel with a man who hated him. Is not 
 that an attempt at murder on the part of him who delib- 
 erately provokes the quarrel ? Well, it is past, and he is 
 gone. For all the color of the world I live in, there might 
 never have been any such person as Henri de Malfort." 
 
 Her airy laugh ended in a sob, which she tried to stifle, 
 but could not. 
 
 "Hyacinth, Hyacinth, why will you persist in being 
 miserable when you have so little cause for sadness ?" 
 
 "Havel not cause ? > Am I not growing old, and robbed 
 of the only friend who brought gayety into my life ; who 
 understood my thoughts and valued me. A traitor, I 
 know— like the rest of them. They are all traitors. But 
 he would have been true had I been kinder, and trusted 
 him." 
 
 " Hyacinth, you are mad ! Would you have had him 
 more your friend ? He was too near as it was. Every 
 thought you gave him was an offense against your husband. 
 Would you have sunk as low as those shameless women 
 the king admires ? " 
 
 " Sunk — low ? Why, those women are on a pinnacle of 
 fame — courted — flattered — poetized — painted. They will 
 be famous for centuries after }ou and I are forgotten. 
 Tlicre is no such a thing as shame nowadays, except that 
 it is shameful to have done nothing to be ashamed of. I 
 have wasted my life, Angola. There was not a woman at 
 the Louvre who had my complexion, nor one who could 
 walk a coranto with more grace. Yet I have consented to 
 be a nobody at two courts. And now I am growing old, 
 and my poor painted face shocks me when I chance on my 
 reflection by daylight ; and there is nothing left for me— 
 nothing." 
 
"Quite Out Of Fashion." 43, 
 
 " Your husband, sister ' " 
 
 nam is to me. We were chosen for each other, and fanciorl 
 we were m love lor the first few years wh^lpT 
 
 often called away from me that hifpn? ? ^""^ '° 
 ■tr.r,i.' ^ 1 ' ^^ ^"s comniff back mfirlp .. 
 
 tataval, and renewed affeetion. He eame crimson from 
 battles and sieges, and I was proud of him and e,Zl 
 my iiero. But after the treaty of the P ,!^' ' "" 
 
 cooled and he grew too 2elf 2l iTasT : ''Td 
 when he reoovered of tl>e contagion, he had rTcov^Tt of 
 any love-siclmess he ever had for me !" '^<"^''*<^"<i of 
 
 ytrparfoteafd'" "n"' '""^°"'<' -■«" of affection™ 
 your pait to be as devoted as ever he was " 
 
 IT""^ T ''°''''*''' ^°'' ^""^^ ^'1^ warrant." 
 childtn *'"' "^ ^""^ ^^^^^^ "P- ^-r ^ove, your 
 
 h^L^lT^''^!"' ""^^ ^' "'"^'^y ^^ t^" ^« I am, and thinks 
 h rself handsomer and cleverer than over I wis. Geort 
 who IS a lump of selfishness, and cares more for his pontS 
 and peregnnes than for father and mother. tefl y^u 
 there is nothing left for me; except fine house and 
 and carriages ; and to show my fading beautv rll a 
 in the latest mode at twilight [nthri„raLr^'^r 
 people from the thought of^ my wriX ty^^e 'hofd^e t 
 of my patches. I was the first to wear a coach L ,7 
 across my forehead-in London at least Th;"^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 follies m Paris three years ago." *^ "" 
 
 ''Indeed, dearest ?" 
 
 "And thou wilt let me arrange thy weddinr. nfw „, 
 own fancy, wilt thou not, ma tres ch^rl?" ^ ' ""^ 
 " You forget Dcnzil's hatred of finery " 
 " But the wedding is the bride's festival. The b-idn 
 
 ZZrf' 'T'' ''''''''''' ^- --^ f-n it- 
 modest fooling when you bid good-night to the company. 
 
'A 
 
 nfilai: 
 
 y? 
 
 
 of 
 
 432 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 nor shall there be any scuffling for garters at the door .. 
 your chamber. There was nothing of that when Lady 
 Sandwich married her daughter. All vulgar fashions of 
 coarse old Oliver's day have gone to the ragbag of wornout 
 English customs. We were so coarse a nation, till we 
 learnt manners in exile. Let me have my own way, 
 dearest. It will amuse me, and wean me from melancholic 
 fancies." 
 
 ''Then, indeed, love, thou shalt have thy way in all 
 particulars." 
 
 After this Lady Fareham was in haste to return to the 
 house in order to choose the wedding-goAvn ; and here in 
 the paneled parlor they found the two gentlemen, with 
 the dust of the road and the warmth of the noonday sun 
 upon them, newly returned from Aylesbi .y, vvrhere they 
 had ridden in the freshness of the early morning to choose 
 a team of plough horses at the fair ; and who were more 
 disconcerted than gratified at finding the dinner parlor 
 usurped by Mrs. Lewin, Madame Hortense, and an array 
 of finery that made the room look like a stall in the Ex- 
 change. 
 
 It was on the stroke of one, yet there were no signs of 
 dinner. Sir John and Sir Denzil were both sharp set 
 after their ride, and were looking ]>y no means kindly on 
 Mrs. Lewin and her wares when Hyacinth and Angela 
 appeared upon the scene. 
 
 "Nothing could happen luckier," said Lady Fareham, 
 when she had saluted Denzil, and embraced her father 
 with " Pish, sir ! how you smell of clover and new mown 
 grass ! I vow you have smothered my mantua with dust." 
 
 Father and sweetheart were called upon to assist in 
 choosing the wedding-gown— a somewhat empty com- 
 pliment on the part of Lady Fareham, since she"^ would 
 not hear of the simple canary brocade which Denzil se^ 
 lected, and which Mrs. Lewin protested v.is only good 
 
y way in all 
 
 "Quite Out Of Fashion." 433 
 
 enough to make his lady a bed-crown nv nf +v,« i 
 atlas which her father considereS uilablo ^ .^'"^ 
 
 she would have nothing butt:tit:t^t rpo^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 ;' Dear sister, can you consider a fabric fit for a Bourbon 
 pnncess a ecoming gown for me V remonstrated A^^ela 
 Yes, child white and silver will better becomelhe; 
 than poor Louise, who has no more complexionlefUhan I 
 have. She was in her heyday when she held the BastHle 
 and when she and Beaufort were two of the mo!f ^ 1 1 ' 
 people in Paris. She has made hersel a a^LK 
 since then. That is settled, Lewin - with a tr / .1 
 rniliner, ^^the silver Aetir d: luces l-rweddtg'^n! 
 tua And now be quicK with your samples.- ^ 
 All Angela's remonstrances were as vain to-dav as thev 
 
 travagant by long habit. ^ '''™'^^' ^^- 
 
 "Sure it would bo a hard thing if I could not give vol. 
 your weddmg-olothes when you are marrying «r™an 
 I ehose for you," she protested. "The eherry colored 
 farradme by all means, Lewin ; 'tis the very lad for 
 my sister's fair skin. Indeed, Denzil," noddiL at him 
 as IH. stood watehing them, with that hopelessly b«ndt™d 
 air of a man ma -nilliner's shop, " I have been you, best 
 fnend from the beginning, and, but for me, you ^il 
 never have won your sweetheart to listen to ^ou. Maza 
 me hoods are as anoient as the pyramids, Lewin Yot 
 must show US something newer " 
 It was late in the evening when the two eoaohes left the 
 
Ff • 
 
 I 
 
 rj ■• 
 
 434 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 Manor gate. Hyacinth had been in no haste to return to 
 the Abbey. There waa nobody tliere who wanted her, she 
 protested, and tliere would be a moon after nine o'clock, 
 and she had servants enough to take care of her on the 
 road; so Mrs. Lewin and her ladyship's woman were 
 entertained in the steward's room, where Reuben held 
 forth upon the splendor that had prevaik 1 in his master's 
 house before the troubles-and where the mantua-mal'er 
 ate and drank all she could get, and dozed and yawned 
 through the old man's reminiscences. 
 
 The afternoon was spent more pleasantly by the quality, 
 who sat about in the sunny garden, or sauntered by the 
 the fish pond and foil the carp— and took a dish of the 
 Indian drink which the sisters loved, in , .le pergola at the 
 end of the grass-walk. 
 
 Hyacinth now affected a passion for the country, and 
 quoted the late Mr. Cowley in praise of rusticity. 
 
 " Oh, how delicious is this woodland valley," she cried. 
 
 Here let me, careless and unthoughtful lying, 
 Hear the soft winds, above me plying, 
 With all their wanton boughs dispute.' 
 
 Poor Cowley, he might well lovp the country, for he was 
 shamefully treated in town— a unvoted slave to bankrupt 
 royalty for all the best years of his life, and fobbed off with 
 a compliment when the king came into power. Ah me 
 'tis an ill world we live in, and London is the most hatef ui 
 spot in it,'- she concluded, with a sigh. 
 
 "And yet you will have me married nowhere else 
 
 sister ? " ' 
 
 " Oh, for a wedding or a christening one must have a 
 crowd of fine people. It would go about that Lady Fare- 
 ham was quite out of fashion if I were content to see only 
 ploughmen and dairymaids, and a pretty gentleman or two 
 With their ill-dressed wives, at my sister's marriage. Lon- 
 
" Quite Out Of Fashion." 
 
 435 
 
 don is the only decent pluce-after Paris fn u • . 
 
 "Dour love, I fear Cto hT """'^^^'^^ ^«"^^^"^- 
 
 and that you are ^^ "^f ^;f ^^'^? ^-.n .e ; 
 
 '' If I am I do not know II Bu'^ ' '"'"''^'^• 
 
 hving there is only one selsible tl ' : itft t^I^^ 77 ^' 
 dence will but be kind and help one to dl ; T "" 
 
 for dagger or poison, or for a nlnn^! "^ '''"' "°<^ 
 
 to fade away n a gent e dil "^ ''^ ''^*''- ^"<^ 
 
 vital streamiistlXtatTr^^^ T''' ^'^'^^"-^ «^ *'^« 
 is tired of life." *^""^ "^'"^ ^'"^^ ^^fall one who 
 
 Alarmed at hearing her shfov toit • .i • 
 strain, and still more alarm Pdl. /" ^'"' melancholy 
 snnken cheeks, h c ctsh fo "^ i'- f '"^^^ "^ ^^^^^ ^^^ks; 
 treated Lady Fureham tot ^Z'!':^''^^'^ ^^^^^ ^"^^^^ en: 
 and cared f,V '''^ "' *^^^ ^^^'^^^^^^ ^"^ be nursed 
 
 a sick ^i^" 1^;;::^ ;--^;^^ and your power over 
 in the Lxt momrt ^p^^^^^^^^ and then 
 
 trospective jealousy. ^ ^' ^^'' ^'^^^^ «Pn^t of re- 
 
 had been protesting thatlt t ^' ' ' ^'"^ "^''^^^^^b, who 
 
 that she cLl n Cf homrrT"'"V"^' ^^^^ ^^-^--^ 
 social and domestic ' ""'^ ''''^'"^ ^ ^''^ <^f duties, 
 
 "I shall not have half an hnn^ + 
 
 , ^uufMioone to the will of othnv<a -ri, - ^ 
 
 married on a Thursday, the 19th Jul v^ T-7 '""'' *° ^^^ 
 
 *^' -^^^^ '^"^y^ and It was now the 
 
f.'r, 
 
 f... 
 
 ^^^^BkiAiiltLiL 
 
 •w^ 
 
 ^^^^^pP 
 
 i^M| 
 
 ^■llk.;. 
 
 i^iil 
 
 436 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 end of Juno. Little more than a fortnight's interval in 
 whicli to meditate upon the beginning of a new life. 
 
 Mrs. Lewin had promised the white and silver mantua, 
 and as many of the new clothes as a supernatural address, 
 industry, and obligingness, could produce within the time. 
 Hyacinth n^rew more lively after supper, and parted from 
 her father and sister in excellent spirits ; but her haggard 
 face haunted Angela in troubled dreams all that night, 
 and she thought of her with anxiety during the next few 
 days, and most of all upon one long sultry day, the 4th of 
 July, which was the third day she had spent in unbroken 
 solitude since her father and Denzil had ridden away in 
 the dim early morning, while the pastures were veiled in 
 summer haze, on the first stage of a journey to London, 
 hoping with a long rest between noon and evening, to ride 
 thirty-seven miles before night. 
 
 They were to consult with a learned London lawyer, 
 and to execute the marriage settlement. Sir John vastly 
 anxious about this business, in his ignorance of law and 
 distrust of lawyers. They were to stay in London only 
 long enough to transact their business, and would then re- 
 turn post-haste to the Manor ; but as they were to ride 
 their own horses all the way, and as lawyers are notoriously 
 slow, Angela had been told not to expect them till the 
 fourth evening after their departure. 
 
 In her lonely rambles that long summer day, with her 
 spaniel Ganymede, and her father's favorite pointer for her 
 only companions, Angela's thoughts dwelt ever on the past. 
 Of the future — oven that so near future of her marriage- 
 she thought hardly at all. That future had been disposed 
 of by others. Her fate had been settled for her ; and she 
 was told that by her submission she would make those she 
 loved happy. Her father would have the son he longed 
 for, and would be sure of her faithful devotion till the end 
 of his days — or of hers, should untimely death intervene 
 
"Quite Out Of F^ishk,,,." 
 
 Ana ,0". ^>in:'.T;::::zzv:T;::i rr^- 
 
 little i)u ns to liido l,,-^ .,-; 1 i . '^^^ ^"''^•^"i «'> 
 
 hour ho Imddur hi /'"''■""' " "' ""^ "■"''"■'""• 
 his love, that hi , .s :; I " ,,!n ■ " '^■"'l''™^"^' 
 
 was Fareham's junior hv fiff on, y.^n^il— -Uonzii, wlio 
 
 a<.v.nt,>,o „, rer.:ra:ii,!trc:i '^thT'"^ '■' "^r-^ 
 
 for even while she thou"-]it of f l,n/ ■ '' '""^"' ^ 
 
 -que regularity of feat J^ ti' e^ ^il^ ^T;^!;^ "^f "" 
 on warmed with the glow of ho ,1 H Vi ^ f ^'oniplex- 
 iarge well-opened eyes the^iriVr ^ ' '^''^' ^'"" "^ 
 had led an active count vli^^ " "r''^' "^ «"« ^^^'^ 
 Benzil, anotherlcT: r4 :^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ f ^^^-'^'"t of 
 
 rugged and dark, the foi-Ie J 1 ^ ? f' "'''"^^^'•^--- 
 
 «.nd. hoh^^d^t^^r^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 nearly halta year since sho Lu c", him T^ "^ ^' ■"" 
 >n the future noed ho of the rarest SI l .T """""'■'' 
 regarded him witi, a d k/'° V , , *''"' ''•»'■■>'' "'"t Doiizil 
 
 of the questl Ir i ;:^\: ;:■ ;';"•« «™J.*ii. ..ut 
 
 from tliat old time JIsmI P„ ^^ ^ '° '"'"'' '"' "'"»' 
 
 be, considering ?he h„ t di 7 f """'""8'' *'""■'= »'"»' 
 
 +1 ir *' ^"^" distance between r<]>;if . , 
 
 the Manor, feastings and junketino-s L nl ^ '""' 
 
 twice in a summer, lest it slimild f ,i T^'^ ''''' ''' 
 his lordship wereill fril r l^lrf V'""''"''^"''^ 
 any such social gatherhrsittin.ffi^" ^''''' ^'''*^^ "^ 
 amid the steam^f:-;;--;::;^:V^^-^j;^^^ 
 
 voices, she and Fareham would be a. T. I I "'^"^ 
 
 Indian Ocean rolled between i^Ln ' ''' '^''' "^ '' "»« 
 
 Once, and very soon, they must meet face to face ; and 
 
438 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Br *', 
 
 . 1 
 
 ho would tako lior huiul in preeting, and would kiss hop 
 on the lips m she stood bofuro him in her wodding finery, 
 that splendor of white and silvor which would provoko him 
 to scornful wonder at her trivial pleasure in sumptuous 
 clothes. Thus once they must moot. Iler lieart thrilled 
 at the thought. Ho had so often shunned her, taking such 
 obvious trouble to keep his distance ; but he could hardly 
 absent himself from her wedding. The scandal would be 
 too great. 
 
 Well, she had accepted her fate, and this dull aching 
 misery must be lived through somehow ; and neither her 
 father nor Denzil must ever have occasion to suspect her 
 unhappinoss. 
 
 " Oh, gracious Mary, mother of God, help and sustain 
 me in my sorrow ! Guard and deliver me from sinful 
 thought. What are my fanciful griefs to thy great sor- 
 rows, which thou didst endure with holy patience ? Sub- 
 duo and bend me to o1)edience and humility. Let me bo 
 an affectionate daughter, a dutiful wife, a friend and com- 
 forter to my poor neighbors." 
 
 So, and with many such prayers she struggled against 
 the dominion of evil ; kneeling meekly in the leafy still- 
 ness of that deep beachwood, where no human eye beheld 
 her devotions. So in the long solitude of the summer day 
 she held commune with Heaven, and fought against that 
 ever-recurring memory of past happiness, that looking 
 back to the joys and emotions of those placid hours at 
 Chilton Abbey before the faintest apprehension of evil had 
 shadowed her friendship with Fareham. Not to look 
 back ; not to remember and regret. That was the struggle 
 in which the intense abstraction of the believer, lifting 
 the mind to heaven, alone could help her. Long and 
 fervent wore her prayers in that woodland sanctuary where 
 she made her pious retreat ; nor was her sister forgotten 
 in those prayers, which included much earnest supplication 
 
"Quite Out Of Fashion." 
 
 «< '1.0 tail wax- fei,:;"^ "'/'''' :""">^i;owgl„„. 
 
 w- oxc,„„o„. s„ :; u"e,:rL'T. ■■'•'"■^^'' '''^'■«'" 
 
 """.1 from all eartl.ly h,tco, ,,,,?, "«■"•"»"-•■" of hor 
 
 aoundsof WIt/a ,".' i;;:"„al,"" ,""' '"'' *'"""'- 
 Seuben's voice hcoto , , ho'ma^ ""J »■■„,!„,,, „„„ „„ 
 
 "anta wore closing the 1 ^ulo I,7„ ' "^ '""' *'"" ^^^ »■•- 
 would be eomi,,/t,;t ? Z M *'°,"'« '° ''"''• ''.^"ben 
 
 Lor chamber, a„d as irwo;o I *"', '""'^ '""• ™'""o *" 
 before he wel.t to W, 1. " Shl"";"'"'^ '"^"^^'^ »' 
 to resist his friondiv t i ' . '"' "" ""» ooeasion, 
 
 for sleep, Ju^^TnZ 'J '" ""'° "'^""""on 
 inthiselab„ratel:iai;\7„:"°',''''"i '■'■'' '-'motion 
 ored Bilks, which wa, ,W- , / "'™"' "'"^ "'aV col- 
 on tho fac ., l^VZtSo'd dtblf '"''-'» ^^ 
 
 Suddenly, as she bout over the c-u„lle t. 
 shading of hor silks H„. i ii *° ^orutinize the 
 
 ".e silence, and in a mi 1 « '"""' "' ''°°'» ""■"'"^ "Pon 
 
 ^ Who co,;,d it r aTtrrz ? t/z-"''^- 
 
 tioubt : no one pIsp tt^ i n * ^^" lather, no 
 
 and returned: da 'ea " r'';! a rt'fjl'-^'"- '-'"'°"^"' 
 "bo that hehadfallen sick in 'LndL^r Den;il td 
 
 h.i 
 
440 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 (!ome to tell her ill news ? Or was it a messenger from hei 
 fiister ? Hhe had time to contemplate several evil contin- 
 gencies while she stood in the hall watching Reuben with- 
 draw various bolts and bars. 
 
 The door swung back at last, and she saAV a man in high 
 riding-boots and slouched hat standing on the threshold, 
 while in the moonlight behind him she could distinguish 
 a mounted groom holding the bridle of a led horse, as 
 well as the horse from which the visitor had just dis- 
 mounted. 
 
 The face that looked at her from the doorway was the 
 face which had haunted her with cruel persistency through 
 that long day, chaining her thoughts to the earth. 
 
 Fareham stood looking at her for a few moments, 
 deadly pale, while she was collecting her senses, trying to 
 understand this most unlooked-for presence. Why was he 
 here ? Ah, no doubt, a messenger of evil. 
 
 ** Oh, sir, my sister is ill ! " she cried ; " I 
 in your face — seriously ill — dangerously ? 
 lord, for pity's sake ! " 
 
 "Yes, she is in." 
 
 ** Not dead ? '' 
 
 "No, no.'' 
 
 " But very ill ? Oh, I feared, I feared when I saw her 
 that there was something amiss. Has she sent you to 
 to fetch me ? " 
 
 " Yes, you are wanted." 
 
 " Reuben, I must set out this instant. Order the coach 
 to be got ready. And Betty must go with me." 
 
 " You will need no coach, Angela. Nor is there time to 
 spare for any such ■ 'eeping conveyance. I have brought 
 Zephyr. You remember how you loved him. He is 
 Bwift, and gentle a'' the wind after which we named him ; 
 sure of foot, easy to ride. The roads are good after yes- 
 terday's ruin, and the moon will last us most of our way. 
 
 read sorrow 
 Speak, my 
 
a man in high 
 the threshold, 
 
 there time to 
 
 " Quite Out Of Fashion." 
 
 We shall be at Chilton in two hours 7 , '^' 
 
 »d hat. Indeed, there is „„ aZl .J^l^ » J"" coat 
 
 ^^^ Bo ,oun>ean that she „ay die hett lean reach 
 
 ho;;"re;r';t:;TLdVr' ""''"''^""^- "'^* 
 
 tions. " ^''" '""^ '«''^' wsto no time on ques- 
 
 jIis manner wn<3 nnn ^f 
 Prehend no po^JSli:^ ^ ::2:;;;^' "f ^" ^^^^^ *^ ^P" 
 -n to his pantry, and came k^itTa 17 ?"'; ^"^^- 
 which he offered to the visii^nr n \^''''^^''^ ^^d wi„e, 
 ahnost ready to kneel. ""'"' tremulous respect, 
 
 " Our best Burffundv mv1n,.,i x- 
 1.7 after your long rice'- ^J°f \'"" '""'^Wp ""'st be 
 to sup, there is good pi„L-;r„''r':lr''^'"l' ™"'<1 o«e 
 a capon from madame- 'uler ''^' ''f°'"^W'» ol.ine, and 
 carving-knife." '^'"' "'""■™ 'oached with tlie 
 
 gi:t^',t>^"»*^'"'''-<J. There is no time for 
 
 ;; Are you coming? "he asked. 
 
 i";: iWdoetol-s^t^lro^^VJ/^^^^^-^^^^^ 
 
 ^o. But she is in a bad ;vav And . 
 -are wanted. Will you come v a ^^"-you-you 
 
 "Yp« tj. • J^ii t^ome .'' Ay or no?'' 
 
 ■.nd Be^i, t^erhtrr'T- ^ ""™ "^ '•»"'« 
 tell them why I we.it • and/l . "" """'' ^o •'•We to 
 
 't would ill become me to l!™ il"-?. '™« .^»'' '--tat-n, 
 abiience/' 
 
 -to leave this house in 'n;;,^;; 
 
 '8 
 
442 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 i3 . ' 
 ■' ! I 
 
 He gave his head a curious jerk at Denzil's name, as if 
 he had been stung — 
 
 " Yes, I will explain : I can make all clear to this 
 gentleman here while you put on your cloak. Bring the 
 black to the door, he called to his man. 
 
 ''"Will not your lordship bait your horses before you 
 start ? " Reuben asked deferentially. 
 
 "No time, fellow. There is no time. How often must 
 I tell you so ? " retorted Fareham. 
 
 Reuben's village breeding had given him an exaggerated 
 respect for aristocracy. He had grown up in the midst of 
 small country gentlemen, rural squires, among whom the 
 man with three thousand a year in land was a magnate, 
 and there had never been more than one nobleman within 
 a day's ride of the Manor Moat. To Reuben, therefore, a 
 peer was like a god ; and he would have no more ques- 
 tioned Lord Fareham's will than a disciple of Hobbes 
 would have imputed injustice to kings. 
 
 Angela returned in a few minutes, having changed hor 
 silken gown for a neat cloth riding-skirt and close-fitting 
 hood, and she carried nothing with her, being assured that 
 her sister's wardrobe would be at her disposal, and having 
 no mind to spend a minute more in preparation than was 
 absolutely necessary. Brief as her toilet was, she had time 
 to consider Lord Fareham's countenance and manner, the 
 cold distance of his address, and to scorn herself for hav- 
 ing thought of him in iier reveries that day as loving her 
 always and till death. It was far better so. The abyss 
 that parted them could not yawn too wide. She put a 
 stern restraint upon herself so that there should be nothing 
 hysterical in her manner, lest her fears about her sister's 
 health should be mistaken for agitation at his presence. 
 She stood beside the horse, straight and firm, with her 
 hand on the pom-meL and sprang lightly into the saddle 
 »s Fareham's strong arm lifted her. Yet she could but 
 
 
il's name, as if 
 
 " Quite Out Of Fashion." 
 
 he couW but 
 
 fnl in the moonlight 111 T It ^ '"'"''''=' '""'««- 
 
 slopingthatohedroofeof oo^hI «-'™"' """ ""''P'y 
 
 garden and orchard ,„„,? ^^ufttrng in a tangle of 
 
 » the better ct 'ho™, a 71T 'T °' °'" ^^'""^ ^'^"^^^ 
 dealer ; orchards and grrdtLtd'f'^'r'-,?'' «™^-' 
 every variety „, thatch fnd eTves ,„dZ to' h"^"- '"''^ 
 turesque confusion • lar»» .„ ""dclied together m pic- 
 village green, and JmmonTT "^"^-^"'"^-Po-d, and 
 ful. prospero'ns sett Zent , rtfchT? '"""''' " P^^^" 
 tI>ro„gh the ordeal of the civ tar f"''"" ""'"'™<='i 
 
 8ion. Not a word was In^l ' "'" "' "'* '""''J' ^ed"- 
 
 ieftbehindand thtrreTiS n/o™".,"":" "" """^^ ™ 
 brilliant a moonlighl Lt ttl ,i™°'^ """^' '" ^^ 
 her companion's brldiXfe ' ™"'* '"' "^'^ ""^ '" 
 
 his''sj4Xroto::iT"'''r' '- » "^-^-hen 
 
 Was he possessed rth sor oiVrT 'T. ^'"^ '" ''- ? 
 and did anxiety make I,im , I '"' '"'"^ "disposition, 
 himseif for not betg rdee^ ,'• f '™ '"^ ""S-'y '"* 
 onght to be at a wif!! Tord ''she'tr"? " " ""^"'"l 
 and Hyacinth had been growi, ' , t, *°° "''" ''"'"''^ 
 till the only link botw f Cb^d "i i" -f '"■' "'' ''^ ""y' 
 decent courtesy and subserv fn . " " ''™'"' '» •>' a 
 
 Sherecalled tha o her ,"'° "'"'''''^ "l'""""- 
 
 a solitary jour, cy together "T"'"" *^^ ''™ '""I ™ade 
 tbat night of tl e fire 't ' TVT «'"""">' » ""ence- 
 and taken the cult on „f," Z""', ''""^ «« '"« doublet 
 and fast, with h eves on H, '™'^. and rowed steadily 
 the boat as she woSd or f°™*' '""""^ '"='■ '» «'eer 
 I'onrforacI Leor^se hIT^ '° 1'^ '■■"™^=» »' "'e 
 »i...^i.tasheseem:dtottXrZ;fas%:^;-S 
 
"MJ%'Mm^^: 
 
 AAA 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 fit 
 
 h-^ 
 
 
 i.:m.t' ,f m:i'jL. 
 
 after mile side by side, the groom following near, now at a 
 fadt trot, now galloping along a stretch of waste grass that 
 bordered the highway, now breathing their horses in a 
 walk. 
 
 In one of those intervals he asked her if she were tired. 
 
 " No, no. I have no power to feel anything but anxiety. 
 If you would only be kinder, and tell me more about my 
 sister ! I fear you consider her in danger.^' 
 
 " Yes, she is in danger, there is no doubt of that.'* 
 
 " Oh, God ! she looked so ill when I saw her last, and 
 she talked so wildly. I feared she was in a bad way. How 
 soon shall we be at Chilton, my lord ? " 
 
 " My lord ! Tiliy do you * my lord' me ? " 
 
 ** I can find no other name. We seem to be strangers 
 to-night ; but, indeed, names and ceremonies matter noth- 
 ing when the mind is in trouble. How soon slial • we reach 
 the Abbey Fareham ? " 
 
 *' In an hour, at least Angela." 
 
 His voice trembled as he spoke her name, and all of force 
 and passion that could be breathed into a single word was 
 in his utterance. She flushed at the sound, and looked at 
 him with a sudden fear ; but his countenance might have 
 been wrought-iron, so cold and passionless and cruelly 
 resolute looked that rough-hewn face in the moonlight. 
 
 " I have a fresh horse waiting for you at Thame," he 
 said. " I will not have you wearied by riding a tired horse ; 
 and weare withhi five minutes of the inn. Will you rest 
 there for half an hour, and take some refreshment ? " 
 
 " Eest, when my sister may be dying ! Not a moment 
 more than is needed to change horses." 
 
 " I have brought Queen Bess, another of your favorites. 
 'Twas she who taught you to ride. She will know jou; 
 voice and your light hand upon her bridle." 
 
 They found the inn wrapped in slumber, like every house 
 or cottage they had passed ; but a lantern shone within an 
 
■ ■■'■-^■MByfWiiwiii.- 
 
 sar, now at a 
 
 ;te grass that 
 
 liorses in a 
 
 were tired, 
 but anxiety, 
 re about my 
 
 I that.'' 
 
 ^er last, and 
 
 I way. How 
 
 be strangers 
 matter noth- 
 lial ■ we reach 
 
 id all of force 
 
 gle word was 
 
 nd looked at 
 
 might have 
 
 and cruelly 
 
 oonlight. 
 
 Thame/' he 
 
 I tired horse ; 
 
 Vill you rest 
 
 lent?" 
 
 ot a moment 
 
 )ur favorites, 
 [ know }o\x: 
 
 ! every house 
 ae within an 
 
 "Quite Out Of Fashion." 
 
 445 
 
 nndor the archway into the jarf '"'"'"'' "^' 
 
 The mare was excited at flndin" herself nn fl,„ i ■ 
 the clear cool night, with the mooll ^ "l t- and 
 was gayer than Fareliam liked to see her nmler ,oT 
 
 :rho^tr'^"^«"'^'^'''"""-'"''^^'5;tr^^^^^^ 
 
 rei'ttTng"Sr ;r L'°T' '". '""" "^ *"»^ "'- 
 was a door, hSl, hidde': «2r i f^y ^..^ILrd'T T' 
 went in and ont nu,ch oftencr trm t L ''"'" 
 
 trance. It opened into a P Ja^ ".t fef tJ! -.S:' T 
 hbrary, where there was a lamp bnr.m, to „t h » , ''° 
 -w the light in the window as' they r^de p^sf ^"'''' 
 
 —dark and strangely silent • linf fl„-c p.issage 
 
 ^a?«r^^sL*3:rr,ry"^r 
 
 had opened the door. ^' ^^'^"^ Fareham 
 
* 5 ' s'l 
 
 m 
 
 aiiiiLL-„^-,Ai. 
 
 446 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 A lamp upon the tall mantel-piece feebly lighted the 
 long low room, gloomy with the darkness of old oak wains- 
 cot and a heavily timbered ceiling. There were two flaskB 
 of wine upon a silver salver, and pi nisions U^v a supper, 
 and a fire was burning on the heardi. 
 
 "You had better warm yourself af tor your :) Ight ride., 
 and eat and drink aomethin,;^ before you see her.'* 
 
 " K.>, no. Whiit, ■ f cer riilSng as fast as our horses could, 
 carry us ! I must pr> to her this moment. Can you find 
 me a candle ?"— lookiug ,ibout her Imrriedly as she spoke. 
 " But, indeed, it is ou rantter ; I know my way to her 
 room in the dark, and iiiore will be light enough from the 
 great window." 
 
 " Stop ! " he cried, seizing her arm as she was leaving the 
 room ; ''stop ! " dragging her back and shutting the door 
 violently. " Your sister is not there." 
 
 " Great God ! What do you mean ? You told me your 
 wife was here— ill— dying perhaps." 
 
 *■' T told you a lie, sweetheart ; but desperate men will 
 do desperate things." 
 
 " Where is my sister ? Is she dead ? " 
 " Not unless the Nemesis that waits on women's folly 
 has been swifter of foot than common. I have no wife, 
 Angela ; and you have no sister that you will ever care to 
 own. My Lady Farcham has crossed the narrow sea with 
 her lover, Henri de Malfort— her paramour always— though 
 I once thought him yours, and tried to kill him for your 
 sake." 
 
 " A runaway wife ! Hyacinth ! Great God ! " She 
 clasped her hands before her face in an agony of shame 
 and despair, falling upon her knees, her head drooping till 
 her brow almost touched the ground. And then, after but 
 a few moments of this deep : i miliation, she started to 1 . ; 
 feet with a cry of an:,3r. Liar ! villain ! despic. ,. .n, 
 devilish villain ! This is a lie, like the other— a wickt •] 
 
:er. 
 
 5^ liglitcil the 
 Id oak wains- 
 ere two flaska 
 for ii supper, 
 
 ir :)i<^-lii ride, 
 
 ler." 
 
 ' horses could 
 
 )an you find 
 
 as she spoke. 
 
 ' way to her 
 
 igh from the 
 
 IS leaving the 
 ;ing the door 
 
 told me your 
 te men will 
 
 omen^s folly 
 iv6 no wife, 
 ever care to 
 3w sea with 
 lys— though 
 dm for your 
 
 rod!" She 
 ly of shame 
 irooping till 
 m, after but 
 arted to h^a 
 
 Quite Out Of Fash 
 
 ion. 
 
 lio ! Your- wife— your wife 
 
 r — a wickci 
 
 44; 
 
 r* . -^""^ "'A^^ "■ wanton ? Mv sisfpr ? m„ 
 
 We .pen .t, she is in London-in y„„ house! Zl7prjj 
 
 .0 n,aa to leave hi. proto^e^ ^ .ou^'hidS , r"ope': 
 th'i door, sir, I command you ' " ^ 
 
 Slie stood straight as an arrow lookinrr ni- 1!, n 
 lips and flaming eyes, too ang^ to b ^aid irhr "' 
 but with indignation, not fear of hTm ' "'^^^"^' 
 
 ha^lf^ZL"""" *""« '" '"'■ '"■ ^^* -^ °«t of this 
 
 thZithrnUe^iiv^"*''^^'''"'''^^"-'-' 
 
 no::^;l;t^;:;^a:;^"r ;: '^■^r \Ver'^ 
 
 ness of it. To vilify my sister fn/ ', ^'''^" 
 
 poses. Intolerable v'illafn ! " " '"" "^" '^^^ P^^ 
 
 " ^^«<^res«, we will soon put an end to that charc^e Lip. 
 there have been, but that is none -Pis vm^Z ,{ 7 
 derer there" J- is you are the slan- 
 
 Alas, It was her sister's hand. She knew ^hn^f, h^ ■ a 
 charaeters too well. The letter was ^ZmlZlZfi 
 
 IVi 
 
448 
 
 When The World Was Youn 
 
 .crer. 
 
 smeared as with tears. Angela's tears began to rain upon 
 the page as she read : 
 
 t< 
 
 
 il! ' 
 
 4^^ 
 
 
 -fr- 
 
 :i .1 i-_i_ 
 
 I have tried to bo a good woman and a true wife to 
 you, tried hard for these many years, knowing all the time 
 that you left off loving me, and but for the shame of it 
 would have eared little, though I had as many lovers as a 
 maid of honor. You made life harder for me in this 
 year last past by your passion for my sister, which mystery 
 of yours, silent and secret as you were, these eyes must 
 iiave been blind not to discover. 
 
 "And while you were cold in manner and cruel of speech 
 —slighting me ever— there was one who loved and praised 
 me, one whose value I knew not till he left this country 
 and I found myself desolate without him. 
 
 " He has come back„ He too has found that I was the 
 other half of his mind ; and that he could taste no pleasure 
 m life unshared by me. He has come to claim one who 
 ever loved him, and who denied him only for virtue's sake 
 Virtue ! Poor fool that I was to count that a woman's 
 noblest quality. Why, of all attributes, it is that the 
 world least values. Virtue ! when the starched Due do 
 Mantausier fawns upon Louise de la Valliere, when Barbara 
 Palmer is de facto Queen of England. Virtue ! 
 
 -Farewell! Forget me, Fareham, as I shall try to 
 forget you. I shall be in Paris perhaps before you receive 
 this letter. My house in the Rue de Touraine is ready 
 for me. I shall dishonor you by no open scandal. The 
 man I love will but rank as the friend I most value, and 
 my other friends will ask no questions so long as you are 
 silent, and do not seek to disgrace me. Indeed, it were 
 an ill thing to pursue me with your anger ; the more so as 
 I am weak and ailing, and may not live long to enjoy an 
 Indian summer of happiness. You have given me so little 
 love that you should in common justice spare me your hate. 
 
"Quite Out Of Fashion." 
 
 449 
 
 sorventP "J """"""S "-so long as she had h,3,- cavalior 
 
 light women. And the vM Ee W ° r T ""' "'' 
 
 thev arp Tf ,■= r,^*- . ^^m^y> 1 dare swear, as 
 
 tney are. It is not an age of tears. And when the k\r 
 Louise ran away to her convent fhn ^fi i ^^^ 
 
 thf Jir^howr::; ^:;;.7.n: ls^^ 't'-'' 
 
 the letter in her hand. ' '''^'^' ^^^^^^^^ *« 
 
 "And who is my sister to the end of timn • r>.,r • + • 
 eternity, in purgatory or in Par-idi e t!. ' "^^ 'f^' "^ 
 though you may. I w I set ou ^o; P ? "''' ^''''^' 
 )n-ing her homef if I ean! ttrZ:r'ZZr:o:^ 
 
 ;; He will be my husband a fortnight hence." 
 which tho'y arca,°'h vol L , '"'™ ™' ""^ »»' i" 
 
 ^^tr...z, y„„ h:;:r:„n.r'sc:i:^^'„ti{ 
 
 Warner, never would love liim i,. . t J-'enzil 
 
 a.....o.cen..,'"Het-;:rdj:::ttLt:: 
 
450 
 
 When The World Wa Vounger. 
 
 it\ 
 
 
 •! , 
 
 i. .1.1, 
 
 you belong to me. He who made us both created us to be 
 happy together. TIu:re are strings in our hearts that 
 harmonize as concords in music do. We are miserable 
 apart, both of us. AVe waste, and fade, and +or' "e our- 
 selves in ubsenoo ; but only to breathe the same air, to sit, 
 silent, in the same room is to be happy," 
 
 " Let me f^o" she cried, looking at him with wild eyes, 
 leaning againr^* the locked door, her hands clutching at 
 the latch, seeming neither to hear nor heed his impassioned 
 address, thoagli every word had sunk deep enough to 
 remain in her memory forever. " Let me go ! You are 
 a dishonorable villain. I came to London alone to your 
 deserted house. I was' not afraid of death or the plague 
 then. I am not afraid of you now. Open this door, and 
 let me go, never to see your wicked face again." 
 
 "Angela, canst thou so play fast and loose with happi- 
 ness ? Look at me," kneeling at her feet, trying to take 
 her hands from their hold on the latch. " Our fate is in 
 our power to-night. The day is near dawning, and at the 
 stroke of five my coach will be at the door to take us to 
 Bristol, where the ship lies that siiall take us to New 
 England — to a new world, and liberty; nd the sweet 
 simple life that my dear ve prefers t( .ill the garish 
 pleasures of a licentious court. Ah, dearest, I know thy 
 mind and heart as well as I kr.o"' my own. I know I fan 
 make thee happy in that fair new world, where we siiall 
 begin life again free from all old burdens ; and where, if 
 thou wilt, my motherless children can join . .:, and make 
 one loving household. My Henrietta ^ore^ you ; and it 
 were Christian charity to rescue her ai he > other from 
 Charles Stuart's England, and to br.,.g thum up to an 
 honest 'Ife in a country where men are free to v( orship God 
 as He moves them. Love, you cannot deny mo. So sweet 
 a life waits for us ; and you have but to lay that dear 
 hand, in mine and give couacnt." 
 
tted us to be 
 
 hearts thut 
 
 re miserable 
 
 tor' re our- 
 
 air, to sit, 
 
 h wild eyes, 
 :)lutching at 
 impassioned 
 enough to 
 ) I You are 
 one to your 
 • the plague 
 is door, and 
 
 with happi- 
 
 ing to take 
 
 Lir fate is in 
 
 ', and at the 
 
 take us to 
 
 us to New 
 
 the sweet 
 
 the garish 
 
 1 know thy 
 know I f^an 
 
 ire we siiall 
 d where, if 
 , and make 
 ou ; and it 
 '>ther from 
 II up to an 
 'orship God 
 . So sweet 
 y that dear 
 
 "Quite Out Of Fashion." ^^^ 
 
 "Oh, God .'"she murmured 'M n i. 
 held me in honor and ester." '"^'^* *^''« "'"» 
 
 i^o J not honor von -^ a], i i 
 
 n.oro tluu, „„„,. ,„•, ,1 ,; „„f ^ t^;!!:!! ™" » ""■" "» 
 A.K1 If he i, auother woman's lu„bu„d ?" 
 J-iiiit tie IS broken." 
 
 Yo,. I,„vc m Je i tril "flee ''' '™ '"' "'^ '"■""'"• 
 lord, we m„3t bo st~ 7 ""r" '''<'' «■"> -, m, 
 Wd you open Urn ,I„«r ami b ;^ ^ V" " S«""™".n, I 
 -re peace.., sheUel/^iryon' .^n:? "'^ "^ *° -» 
 
 .ho heir,:?™ „„^f„:tit:;ech:d ■'" """;' '^^""*' -"" 
 
 » fair hoan-ng^ ""-ea St tl ;"" "^°" ""'' ■"" «''- "'" 
 
 lies in yon,, clt, .ee tt" \"'^^v„^wffl7" ,"' '"" ""■» 
 with mo. I swear I „i„ ^'e " ^™ "" ' J^' ■"»' ""'l »;o 
 
 ■'■•-•r ;:"T ""'^-^^ 
 
 »a grave and wX'son ,,r';f'C! "f ™'^ """■ 
 
 ats°™ :rr -r "^^^^ 
 
 I would i^u; '-:!:r if : bt ::^^"/", ^r '■ "«" 
 
 Sion woman ever fo.t-Iead .. i^l^^l^-:^^ ^Z 
 
45« 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 ^i 
 
 would urge. The vilest w; ton at Whitehall would shrink 
 from stealing a sister's husband." 
 
 " There Avou Id be no theft. Your sister flings mo to 
 you as a dog drops the bono ho has pieked dry. She had 
 me when I was young aiul a soldier— with some reilected 
 glory about niu from the hero 1 followed— and rieh and 
 happy. She leaves me old uiul haggard, without aim or 
 hope, save to win her I worship. Shall I tell you when I 
 began to lOve you, my angel ? " 
 
 ** No, no ; I will listen to no more raving. See, there 
 is the blessed light of day. AV ill you let me beat my hands 
 against this door till they bleed ? " 
 
 "Thou shalt not harm the loveliest hands on earth," 
 seizing them both in his own, and holding them in spite 
 of her struggles. ** Ah, sweet, I began to love thee be- 
 fore ever I rose from that bed of horror w here I had been 
 left to perish. I loved thee in my unreason, and my love 
 strengthened with each hour of returning sense. Our 
 journey— I so weak, and sick, and helpless— was a ride 
 through paradise. I would have had it last a year ; would 
 have suffered sickness and pain, aching limbs and parched 
 lips, only to feel the light touch of this dear hand upon 
 my brow tv/ixt sleep and waking ; only to look np as I 
 awoke and see those sweet eyes looking down at me. Ah, 
 dearest, my heart arose from among the dead and came 
 out of the tomb of all human affections to greet thee. 
 Till I knew you I knew not the meaning of love. And if 
 you are stubborn, and will not come with me to that new 
 world, where we may be so happy, why, then I must go 
 down to my grave a despairing wretch that never knew a 
 woman's love." 
 
 *' My sister — your wife ? " 
 
 "Never loved me. Her heart—that which she calls 
 heart — was ever Malfort's and not mine. She gave me to 
 know' as much by a hundred signs and tokens wli ;i read 
 
"Quite Out Of Fashion." 
 
 Maku not our uHhuty „, Ifi Tl"' ^ '""Z'"™ ' 
 
 will ovorg,,u,t .,i,„„,i,„„ w.t;,,,,.,,;V ;;;;;;'■; '"';-" 
 
 tlici-c is ,,„„so for i,„li,l«c,ico Th„ r '"'"""■* wl.oro 
 
 whii. «..o lives ,„„ ca,. i,:;.:':„'xr;;,;:-."'^ """ ' '"^'' 
 
 for BU,,,,„,.t, and eho no 1„ gj,. ^^T^ "«"■";'"'» ^oor 
 ha„,.» f,.„„; that strong gr,;, wS , ra"! 't^'sr 
 fought aga,nst the faintuoss tlu.t was stcl,! t 
 
 senses; but her heavy eyeli.ls >vL ?„ ^ '"■°'' '""" 
 
 ana there .asasouu/nKC™h;:;';;;f;:;:'^;r-i'> 
 
 Behario's fldolitylthe fond ^S'n 7 '"' ^'^'' """^ 
 she loved ; risked na , e a^ v? ,??«" -'"> /o'l-ved him 
 
 in that large ^i^'^io^y^CZli^^ ^ ^Tl' 
 g.ye unquestioning ? Remember Iiella?i„ "- '"" '" 
 
 Jiolluno Imd no t]iou(rl,f fi,.,f ,., ^ . 
 
 answered, faintly; an^ otook tWf'' /^''^''^''' '''' 
 yielding will. ^^^^^* ^^"^^^'^^ to^e for a 
 
 " She would not have left Philastov if i,« i i i, 
 in the wilderness, miserable fort^t^fh t;^".?^ "'°- 
 
 Her white h,,s moved dumbly, her eyelids Zt.- , , 
 head fell back upon his shouldc^ as wttd i n'f i"" 
 knees to support her sinking iig> re She 'n^ ^/""^ '"^ 
 nnconscious-the image of lea«. '" '"' '"•™' 
 
 He kissed her on the brow 
 
 " My soul, I will owe nothing to thy helplessness," ha 
 
 li 
 
 t '\ 
 
454 
 
 When The World Was Youngfer. 
 
 im 
 
 ^"?iiii 
 
 fSi 
 
 whispered. " Thy free will shall decide whether I live or 
 die." 
 
 Another sound had mingled with the rnshing waters as 
 her senses left her — the sound of knocking at a distant 
 door. It grew louder and louder momently, indicating a 
 passionate impatience in those who knocked. The sound 
 came from the principal door, and there was along corridor. 
 The width of the great hall between that door and Fare- 
 ham's room. 
 
 lie stood listening, undecided ; and then he laid the un- 
 conscious form gently on the thick Persian carpet, knowing 
 that for recovery the fainting girl could not lie too low, and 
 hurried to the hall. 
 
 As he came near, the knocking began again with greater 
 vehemence, and a voice, which he recognized for Sir 
 John's, called — 
 
 ♦' Open the door, in the king's name, or we will break 
 it open." 
 
 There was a pause ; those without evidently waiting for 
 the result of that last and loudest summons. 
 
 Fareham heard the hoofs of restless horses trampling the 
 gravel drive, the jingle of bit and chain, and the click of 
 steel scabbards. 
 
 Sir John had not come alone. 
 
 *' So soon ; so devilish soon," muttered Fareham. And 
 then, as the knocking was renewed, he turned and left the 
 hall Avitliout a word of answer, and hastened back to the 
 room where he had left Angela. His brow was fixed in a 
 resolute frown, every nerve braced. He had made up his 
 mind what to do. He had the house to himself, and was 
 thus master of the situation, so long as he could keep his 
 pursuers on the outside. The upper servants — half-a-dozen 
 coach loads — had been packed off to London, under convoy 
 of Manningtree and Mrs. Hubbock. The under servants- 
 rank and file — from housemaids to turnspits, slept in a huge 
 
"Quite Out Of Fashion." 
 
 These wo,„c, not come- 1^ hie ZZtJ^'T'"''- 
 I'ooms t II six o'clock nf f i.n i x ^ ^^^^ '"^*^ sweep 
 
 I-rd Faroham! tlrX^TiZ'T '' "'"' " ™ ™'^^' '""• 
 his own people! ""'' "" »t'='™Ption from 
 
 ab„?»oVr:nr.s::r''^ ''°f-- ^^•'"^ 
 
 oandlestiek, and st ^ , ,' " Wt'f h f '' ? ^ ""' ^"™ 
 lifeless figure from Vs r'^^ ^X^ini^T'^ ''''' 
 position for oanTin<r tlie CtT) ° "'* ""^'"s' 
 
 Then, holding the sTem Ir ,1^ i^",^ °" '''' *'''™M<"-- 
 
 a™, he took th:t:dTe L Th ;t'L"'ll1 "^ ''^^ '^^ 
 out of the room with his hnJ, , ^ '""^' ""<• «"' 
 
 to a seldom-used t, ire, st',',"'r« '^ P"**"?" '«""? 
 that tdl, slim ormt^'iV'f '"' '''°'""''"^' ""^yi-'S 
 iiightaf erflJh "oTh.,^! f"" " '''"ther-weight „; 
 
 that point hisio:::e:r;r: rz^^^^^^^^^^ ^- 
 
 which interval the impXl ofa :'„ m ' '"t^ 
 
 betrothed hu.shand outside tl,olv,iir^^ ^^^'^'" ^^'^ * 
 minute of delay and otn'''"'''^^^^^^ 
 whom they had 'severrv.fdf'^^* ?";"''' ''''''''''' '' 
 gallop to the vil a/eof ^j ,f '^^''^^^'^f ^^ *« "^^e at a hand- 
 
 while another w elt o Wd'f" """ "" ^^"^^^^^^^ 
 to arrest Lord FarTJlXll^^^^^^^ Z^^^^T "™^^ 
 meanwhile the battering upo tlS-2! "f '"^ ^"^ 
 riding-whips and heavy s^o d hit r"'''^''^'^^^«"<^ 
 
 those within, was repeat' rvTt'Ib'rdvr "'""^ "^^^ 
 a couple of horsemen rode rounrtil ^ 
 other inlets, and do picket duty '"'"""' 
 
 The constable and his underling were on t],. . , 
 before that stubborn eitado] Hn^.r in "^ ground 
 
 mens; but at last the 7came " "^ '"''''''' '""'■ 
 tnere came the sounds of bolts with- 
 
456 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 drawn. An iron bar dropped from its socket with a clang 
 that echoed long and loud in the empty hall, the door 
 opened, and Fareham appeared on the threshold, corpse- 
 like, in the cold raw daylight, facing his besiegers with a 
 determined insolence. 
 
 " Thou most infernal villain ! " cried Sir John, rushing 
 into the hall, followed closely by Denzil and one of the 
 men, " what have you done with my daughter ?" 
 
 " Which daughter does your honor seek ? If it be she 
 whom you gave me for a wife, she has broken the bond, 
 and is across the sea with her paramour." 
 
 "You lie— reprobate ! Your wife had doubtless busi- 
 ness relating to her French estate, which called her to Paris. 
 My daughters are honest women, unless by your villainy, 
 one, who should have been sacred as your sister in affinity, 
 should bear a blighted name. Give me back my daughter, 
 villain— the girl you lured from her home by the foulest 
 deceit." 
 
 " Yon cannot see the lady to-night, gentlemen ; even 
 though you threaten me with your Aveapons, pointing with 
 a sardonic smile to their drawn swords, '<^and outnumber 
 me with your followers. The lady is gone. I am alone 
 in the house to submit to any affront your superior force 
 may put upon me." 
 
 " Our superiority can at least search your house," said 
 Denzil. '^Sir John, you had best take one way and I an- 
 other. I doubt I know every room and passage in the 
 Abbey." 
 
 " And your yeoman's manners offer a handsome return 
 for the hospitality which made you acquainted with my 
 house," said Fareham, with a contemptuous laugh. 
 
 He followed Denzil, leaving the knight to grope alone. 
 The house had been deserted but for a few days, yet the 
 corridors and rooms had the heavy atmosphere of places 
 long shut from sunshine and summer breezes ; while the 
 
"Quite Out Of Fashion." 457 
 
 chilling hour the gray, ghostly light, added something 
 
 pliantasmal and unnatural to the scene. 
 
 Denzil entered room after room-below stairs and above 
 -explored the picture gallery, the bed chambers, the long 
 lowbal -room m the roof, built in Elizabeth's reign when 
 a wing had bem added to the Abbey, and of late used only 
 for lumber Fareham followed him close, stalking behind 
 him m sullen silence, with an unalterable gloom upon a 
 face which betrayed no sudden apprehensions, no triumph 
 or defeat He followed like doom, stood quietly on one 
 side a^ Denzil opened a door; waited on the threshold 
 while the searcher made his inspection, always with the 
 same iron visage, offering no opposition to the entrance of 
 this or that chamber ; only following and watching, silent, 
 intent, sphmx-hke ; till at last, fairly worn out by blank 
 disappomtment, Denzil turned upon him in a sudden fury 
 What have you done with her ? " he cried, desperately.' 
 
 I wil stake my life she has not left this house, and bv 
 
 finThlr"'''''*^' "'^°'' '^'''" """^ ^'''^' '^ ^^'"'^ "^^^««I 
 He glanced downward at the naked sword he had carried 
 throughout his search. Fareham's was in the scab! .rd 
 and he answered that glance with an insulting smile 
 
 « wT^T ^^''t ^ ^l^^^ ni"i-<^ered her, perhaps," he said. 
 
 Well, I would rather see her dead than yours. So far 
 I am m capacity a murderer." 
 
 They met Sir John in Lady Fareham's drawing-room, 
 when Denzil had gone over the whole house, trusting noth- 
 ing to age and dim sight, 
 
 " He has stabbed her and dropped her murdered body 
 down a well," cried the knight, half distraught. '< He 
 cannot have spirited her away otherwise. Look at him. 
 Denzil ; look at that haggard wretch I have called my son. 
 He has the assassin's aspect." 
 
 Something-it might be the room in which they were 
 
458 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 standing— brought back to Angela's betrothed the memory 
 of that Christmas night when aunt and niece had been 
 missing, and when he, Denzil, had burst into this room, 
 where Fareham was seated at chess; who, at the first 
 mention of Angela's name, started up, white with horror, 
 to join in the search. It was he who found her then ; it 
 was he who had hidden her now, and in the same remote 
 and secret spot. 
 
 ^ " Fool that I was not to remember sooner ! " cried Den- 
 zil. " I know where to find her. Follow me. Sir John. 
 Andrew," calling to the servant who waited in the hall, 
 "follow us close." 
 
 He rushed along a passage, ran upstairs faster than old 
 age, were it ever so eager, could follow. But Fareham 
 was nearly as fast— nearly, but not quite, able to overtake 
 him ; for he was older, heavier, and more broken by the 
 fever of that night's work than his colder-tempered rival. 
 Denzil was some paces in advance when he reached the 
 muniment room. He found the opening in the wainscot, 
 and the steep stair built into the chimney. Half way to 
 the bottom there was a gap— an integral part of the plan 
 —and a drop of three feet ; so that a stranger in hurried 
 pursuit would be likely to come to grief at this point, and 
 make time for his quarry to escape by the door that opened 
 on the garden. Memory, or wits sharpened by anxiety, 
 enabled Denzil to avoid this trap ; and he was at the door 
 of the priest's hole before Fareham began the descent. 
 
 Yes, she was there, kneeling in a corner, a candle burn- 
 ing dimly on a stone shelf above her head. She was in 
 the attitude of prayer, her head bent, her face hidden, when 
 the door opened, and she saw her betrothed husband. 
 " Denzil ! How did you find me here ? " 
 " I should be a poor slave if 1 had not found you, rem- 
 membcring the past. Great God, how pale you are! 
 Come, love, yon are safe. Your father is here. Angela." 
 
"Quite Out Of Fashion." 45^ 
 
 thou that art so soon to be my wife-face to face-here- 
 to Xl ?"ii '" '"^""' P^^-^^" -^ "-t you cSd n^^ 
 go with that villain, except for the sake of your sick sislr 
 --that you were the victim of a heartless ife-noTa party 
 to a trick invented to blin^^ your father and me/' ^ ^ 
 1 doiibt I have not all my senses yet," she said nut 
 ting her hand to her head. <'l was tid my s teTwanw" 
 me and I came. Where is Lord Fareham I' ^ 
 
 froz^clnzT ^^^^Ti'?""' '^ '''' asked that question 
 iroze Denzil. Ah, he had known it all along ! That was 
 
 ttiT fM7± ''r '''' ""'' ^^^^^"^- '-^ ^ ^^^ 
 
 victim- .^ He felt as if a great gulf had opened between 
 him^and his betrothed, and that all hi hVes ^ 
 
 Fareham was at his elbow in the next moment. 
 Well, you have found her/' he sairl • " k„+ 
 shall not have hor, save by force'of Ls s,.o 'XZ 
 
 ::ztir ' "'" '"'' ""'' "' ''' ^- ■>- " I -»:;! 
 
 violence ? Come, madam," said Denzil, turnin<r eoldlv tn 
 
 I'S; r :[:^^ ^ ^°°' » «- -^^-^ -'''°>' -""-;': 
 
 prevent him and carried her triiimplsantly to tlie iirst land 
 mg place, which was conddorably^elow tl.at to « I, rou 
 gap between stair and stair. He '.A th«key of tl .arten 
 door m h,s pocket, unlocked ■>, ,.„d ,vas in th open a" 
 w. , lus burden before Denzil c.^ld overtake him.^ 
 
 lie found h,ns„lf caught in a .,:,p. He had his coach 
 and s,x and postilien, waiting close by, and thougl h- had 
 
 Battel , bu. oetwc-on the coach and the door cne of Sir John's 
 
460 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 pickets was standing, who the moment the door opened 
 whistled his loudest, and brought constable and man and 
 another armed servant running helter-skelter round an 
 angle of the house, and so crossing the very path to the 
 coach. 
 
 ' Fire upon him if he tries to pass you I" cried Denzil. 
 
 " What ! And shoot the lady you have professed to 
 love ! " exclaimed Fareham, drawing himself up, and 
 standing firm as a rock, with Angela motionless in his 
 arms. 
 
 He dropped her to her feet, but held her against his left 
 shoulder with an iron hold, while he drew his sword and 
 made a rush for the coach. Denzil sprang into his path, 
 sword in hand, and their blades crossed witli a shrill clash 
 and rattle of steel. They fought like demons, Fareham 
 holding Angela behind him, sheltering her with his body, 
 and swaying from side to side in his sword-play with a de- 
 moniac swiftness and suppleness, his thick dark brows 
 knitted over eyes that flamed witli a fiercer fii'c than flashed 
 from steei meeting steel. A shriek of horror from Angela 
 marked the climax, as Denzil fell with Fareham's sword be- 
 tween his ribs. There had been little of dilettante science, 
 or graceful play of wrist in this encounter. The men 
 had rushed at each other savagely, like beasts in a circus, 
 and whatever of science had guided Fareham's more prac- 
 tised hand had been employed automatically. The spirit 
 of the fight was wild and fierce as the rage that moves rival 
 stags fighting for a mate, with bent heads and trampling 
 hoofs, and clash of locked antlers reverberating through 
 the forest stillness. 
 
 Fareham had no time to exult over his prostrate foe ; 
 Sir John and his servants, constable and underlings, sur- 
 rounded him, and he Avas handcuffed and hauled off to the 
 coach that was to have carried him to a sinner's paradise 
 before any one had looked to Dcnzil's wound, or discovered 
 
In The Court Of King's Bench. 461 
 
 fata. Angela sank swooning in her father's arms as the 
 coach drove away towards Oxford. "ns as tne 
 
 ostrate foe 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 IN THE COURT or KING'S BENCH. 
 
 The snmmer and autumn had gone by_an eventful 
 season for w,th it had vanished from the stage of pdit "s 
 one who had played so dignified and serious I part the e 
 Southampton was dead, Clarendon disgraced and in ex' ' 
 The Nestor and the Ulysses of the Stutrt epic had mel ed 
 from the scene. Down those stairs by which he uTl 
 acended on his way to so many a splendid festiva' h.mlclf a 
 stateher figure than kings or princes, the ehan el rfd 
 gone to banishment and oblivion. " The lady " had looked 
 
 orthelast t™e,ala„ghing Jezebel, fromailacewS; 
 exultant at her enemy's fall ; and along the river tha Zl 
 carried such tragic destinies eastward t^o be sealed nbood 
 Edward Ilyde Earl of Clarendon, had drifted quiet ioui 
 of the history he had helped to make. The ballast of thi 
 grave mtolleet was flnng overboard that the ship ol to2 
 might sail the faster. ^ ° ' 
 
 But in Westminster Hall, upon this windy November 
 mornmg, nobody thought of Clarendon. The busi ,""0 
 
 :tllr Zl """^V° """'^^^'^ "" oonsideraUon: o 
 yesterday The young barristers, who were learning their 
 
 trade by listening to their betters, had been shivcrfnl on 
 
 he r benches in the Common Pleas since nine o'elo5c in 
 
 that chilly corner where every blast from the north or ""tj , 
 
 east swept over the low wooden partition that inclosedthe 
 
462 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 court, or cut through the chinks in the paneling. The 
 students and juniors were in their usual places, sitting at 
 the feet of their favorite common law judge ; but the idlers 
 wlio came for amusement, to saunter about the hall, haggle 
 for books with the second-hand dealers along the south wall, 
 or flirt with the milliners who kept stalls for bands and 
 other legal finery on the opposite side, or to listen on tip- 
 toe, with an car above the paneled enclosure, to the quips 
 and cranks or fierce rhetoric of a famous advocate — these 
 to-day gravitated with one accord towards the southwest 
 corner of the hall, where, in the Court of King's Bench, 
 Richard Eevel, Baron Fareham, of Fareham, Hants, was 
 to be tried by a Buckinghamshire jury for abduction with 
 fraud, malice, and violence, and for assault, with intent to 
 murder. 
 
 The rank of the offender being high, and the indictment 
 knoAvn to involve tragic details of family history, there had 
 been much talk of the cause which was on the paper for 
 to-day ; and, as a natural consequence, besides the habitual 
 loungers and saunterers, gossips, and book-buyers, there 
 was to-day a considerable sprinkling of persons of quality, 
 who perfumed the not-too-agreeable atmosphere with pul- 
 vilio and Florentine iris powder, and the rustle of whose 
 silks and brocades was audible all over the hall. Not often 
 did such gowns sweep the dust brought in by plebeian feet, 
 nor such Venetian point collars rub shoulders with the 
 frowsy Norwich drugget worn by hireling perjurers or 
 starveling clerks. The modish world had come down 
 upon the great ]S"orman hall like a flock of pigeons, sleek, 
 iridescent, all fuss and flutter ; and among these unaccus- 
 tomed visitors there was prodigious impatience for the 
 trial to begin, and a struggle for good places that brought 
 into full play the primitive brutality which underlies the 
 politeness of the vh ilest people. 
 
 Ljjxly Sarah Tewkesbury had risen betimes, and, in her 
 
In The Court Of King's Bench. 463 
 
 anxiety to secure a good place, had come out in her Inst 
 night's "head," which somewhat damaged edifice „f 4 "er 
 coored nnglets and Bomau pearls was^ow vis h ' fv 
 the wooden parftion of the King's Bench to the eyes „? 
 the commonalty in the hall below, her ladyship hei'i ac 
 commodated with a seat among the lawyers" ^ 
 
 gown and mmpled w.g, bnt with a fair complexion and 
 tolerable fc^tures-a stranger to that court, and bett r 
 known at H.cks's Hall, and among city lit »..tors with 
 whom he had already a certain repute for k ei't^trard a 
 
 aJI, but to haye put on wig and gown two years ago at 
 Kingston Ass.zes and called himself to the Bar, and sfayed 
 there by sheer audacity. This young gentleman, Joi^iys 
 by name, haymg deserted the city and possible brief h 
 order to hear the Pareham trial, was inclined to r ent 
 
 La^^Tah ^'" "'''"'"''"' °""''" "> ^'^<> "»»"" 
 " Faith, one would suppose I was her ladyship's footman 
 and had been keeping her scat for her," hi gr^'blcd as 
 he reluctantly rose at the usher's whispered rel" est ^nd 
 edged h,msel, sulkily off to a corner where h found it 
 enough standing-room. •' 
 
 It was a very hard seat which Mr. Jeffreys hid v«P«fo i 
 and her ladyship, after sitting there over Uv hot ntd- 
 
 swound, and necessitated recourse to a crystal flask of 
 strong waters which she had prudently bro'nght rher 
 edited ^: i My/areham's partilula frriends we" 
 expected-Sir Ralph Masaroon, Lady Luoretia Tonliam 
 and more of the same kidney : .and even the voI-.lileVr^l 
 ester had deigned to express an interest in «iet!l 
 
464 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 I t 
 
 TWWprmut^tii 
 
 " The man was mistaken in his motier," ho had told 
 Lady Sarah, when the scandal was discussed in hor draw- 
 ing-room. " The role of seducer was not within his means. 
 Any one could see he was in love with the pale sister-in-law 
 by the manner in which he scowled at her ; but it is not 
 every woman who can be subjugated by gloom and sullcn- 
 ness, though some of 'em like us tragical. My method has 
 been to laugh away resistance, as my wife will acknowl- 
 edge who was the cruellest I ever tackled, and had baf- 
 fled all her other servants. Indeed she must have been in 
 Butler's eye when he wrote — 
 
 ' That old Pyg— what d'ye call him- 
 That cut his mistress out of stone, 
 Had not so hard a hearted one.' 
 
 -malion 
 
 Even Lady Rochestf r v;i\l admit I conquered without 
 heroics," upon which hvr ladyship, late mistress Mallett, a 
 beauty and a fortt-io, .i-njled assent with all the compla- 
 cency of a six-months 'ji ide. " To see a man tried for au 
 attempted abduction is a sight worth a year's income," pur- 
 sued Rochester. "I would travel a hundred miles to be- 
 hold that rare monster who has failed in his pursuit of one 
 of your obliging sex ! " 
 
 " Do you think us all so easily won ? " asked Lady 
 Sarah, piqued. 
 
 " Dear lady, I can but judge by experience. If occasion- 
 ally obdurate to others you have still been kind to me." 
 
 Lady Sarah had nearly emptied her flask of Muscadine 
 before Masaroon elbowed his way to a seat beside her, from 
 which he audaciously dislodged a coffee-house acquaint- 
 ance, an elderly lawyer upon whom fortune had not smiled, 
 with a condescending civility that was more uncivil than 
 absolute rudeness. 
 
 " We'll share a bottte in hell after the trial, mon ami," 
 he said ; and on seeing Lady Sarah's look of horror, he 
 
In The Court Of King's Bench. 465 
 
 haatened to explain tliat l.eavon, hell, and purgatory, woro 
 the cunt names of three taverns which drove a roarin- 
 trade m strong drinks nnder the very roof of the hall. " 
 IJie .ing s attorney-general is prosecuting," answered 
 Nn- Kalph, replynig to a question from Lady Sarah, wl 
 inqun-ies betrayed that dense ignorance of legal teeh.ii.ui^. 
 ties common to accomplished women. " It is thought the 
 lady s father would have been glad for the matter to be 
 quashed, lus fugitive d.tughtcr being restored to hiseustody 
 -albeit witli a damaged character-and her elder sister 
 having run away from her husband." 
 
 -Twill not hear you slander my dearest friend," pro- 
 tested La ly Sarah. -Lady Fareham left her husband, 
 and witl, good cause, as his after-conduct showed 8ho 
 did aot run away from him." 
 
 " Xay, she had doubtless the assistance of a carriage and 
 six She wou'd scarce foot it from London to Dover 
 And now she ,s leading grand train in Paris, and has taken 
 almost as commanding a place as her friend Madame do 
 Longneville, penitent and retire<l from service " 
 
 - Hyacinth, under all her appearance of silliness, is a 
 remarkah clever woman," said Lady Sarah, sententiously ; 
 but, pray. Sir Ealph, if Mistress Angela's father has good 
 reason for not prosecuting his daughter's lover-in<ieed I 
 ever thought her an under], d hussy-whv does not Sir 
 Denzil \\ arner-who I hear has been at deitdi's door-nur- 
 sue him for assault and battery ?" 
 
 " Nay, is so still, madam. I question if he be yet out of 
 danger. The gentleman is a kind of puritanical Quixote 
 and has persistently refused to swear an information 
 against Fareham, whereby I doubt the case wil' fall 
 through, or his lordship get off with a fine .f a thousand 
 or two. We have no longer the blessing of a Star Chamber, 
 .0 supply state needs out of sinner's pockets, and r itigate 
 general taxation ; but his majesty's judges have a capacious 
 
 h' 
 
^. 
 
 ,1^,^ 
 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-S) 
 
 // 
 
 i^.^ >\'. 
 
 '% 
 
 W/ 
 
 h 
 
 C <t' 
 
 % 
 
 ,V4 
 
 A 
 
 
 /, 
 ^ 
 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 ■ 50 ™^« 
 
 2.5 
 2.2 
 
 us 
 
 u 
 
 L25 ill 1.4 
 
 2.0 
 
 m 
 
 ill 1.6 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Scioices 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST AAAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 873-4503 
 
 4^ 
 
 \ 
 
 -cjn; 
 
 <^ 
 
 ^y 
 
 w 
 
 
 S^^A 
 
 ^ 
 
466 
 
 Wh 
 
 en The World Was Younger. 
 
 fh 
 
 
 h^ 
 
 k' < 
 
 iir 
 
 i. \ 
 
 stomach for fines, and his majesty lias no objection to see 
 his subjects' misdemeanors transmuted into coin." 
 
 And now t]:e business of the day began, the paneled in- 
 closure being by this time crowded almost to suffocation, 
 and Lord Fareham was brought into court. 
 
 He was plainly dressed in a dark gray suit, and looked 
 some years older than when Lady Sarah had last seen him 
 on his wife's visiting day, an uninterested member of that 
 modish assembly. His eyes were deeper sunken under the 
 strongly marked brows. The threads of iron-gray in his 
 thick black hair were more conspicuous. He carried his 
 head higher than he had been accustomed to carry it, and 
 the broad shoulders were no longer bent in the ^Stafford 
 stoop. The spectators could see that he had braced himself 
 for the ordeal, and would go through the day's work like a 
 man of iron. 
 
 Proclamation was made for silence, and for information, 
 if any person could give any, concerning the misdemeanor 
 and offence whereof the defendant stood impeached ; and 
 the defendant was bid to look to his challenges, and the 
 jury, being gentlemen of the county of Bucks, were called, 
 challenged, and sworn. 
 
 The demand for silence was so far obeyed that there 
 followed a hush within the inclosure of the court ; but 
 there was no cessation of the buzz of voices and the tramp 
 of footsteps in the hall, which mingled sounds seemed like 
 the rise and fall of a human ocean, as heard within that 
 paneled sanctuary. 
 
 The lawyers took snuff, shuffled on their seats, nudged 
 each other and whispered now and then during the read- 
 ing of the indictment ; but among Lady Fareham's friends, 
 and the quality in general, there was a breathless silence 
 and expectancy ; and Lady Sarah would gladly have run 
 her hat-pin into a snuffy old sergeant close beside her, who 
 must iieeds talk behind his hand to his pert junior. 
 
In The Court Of King's Bench. 46; 
 
 To her hidysliip's unaccustomed ears tl 
 translated literally from the Lat 
 
 ble 
 
 lat indictment, 
 
 in original, sounded terri- 
 
 Vol. n • il '^'\"^"^^ "^ the subterranean lialls of the 
 
 the Vo,?or ; '' "^ ''," "^^' '''''' '''''' '^''^^ «--«il in 
 the V enetian doge's palace. 
 
 Rev!Mr^''^T"\''' '''^^' ''^^'''^ *^^° defendant, Eichard 
 Re el Baron Fareham, on the 4th day of July, in the 18th 
 
 mrsh n?\^T'r":' '"'^ '''' ^"^^' '^''' "-^^^^ -t the 
 un wf 1 ?^^''' "^ '''° ^°^'"*^ '^^ ^^"«ks, falsely, 
 
 unlawfully, unjustly, and wickedly, by unlowful and impure 
 ways and means, contriving, practising, and intending 
 the final rum and destruction of Mrs. Angela Kirk- 
 
 xlrlZTT-'t '"f '"' '^ ^^'' "^'""Sl^tevs of Sir John 
 Kirkland, knight-the said lady then and there bein<r 
 under the custody, government, and education of the said 
 Sir John Kirkland, her father,-he tlie said Richard Revel, 
 Baron Faijham, then and tlicre falsely, unlawfully, devil- 
 ishly, to fulfill, perfect, and bring to effect, }^ most 
 wicked impious and devilish intentions aforesaid-the said 
 Richard Revel Lord Fareham (U.on and long before, and 
 yet being he husband of Mrs. Hyacinth, another daughter 
 of the said Sir John Kirkland, knight, a sister of the said 
 Mrs. Angela), against all laws as well divine as human 
 impiously wickedly, impurely, and scandalously, did tempt' 
 invite and solicit, and by false and lying pretences, oaths,' 
 and athrmations, unlawfully, unjustly, and without the 
 cave and against the will of the aforesaid Sir John Kirk- 
 land kinght, m prosecution of his most wicked intent afore- 
 said did carry off the aforesaid Mrs. Angela, she consenting 
 in Ignorance of his real purpose, about the hour of twelve in 
 the night-time of the said 4th day of July, in the year a^re- 
 said, and at the aforesaid parish of St. John's in the Bale, in 
 the countj^of Bucks aforesaid, out of the dwelling-house of 
 the said Sir John Kirkland, knight, did take and convey to 
 
 county of Oxford, and did then and 
 
 own 
 
468 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 there detain her by fraud, and did there keep her hidden in 
 a secret cliambcr known as the Priest's Hole in his own 
 house aforesaid, at the hazard of her life, and did oppose 
 her rescue by force of arms, and with his sword, unlaw- 
 fully, murderously, and dovilishh', and in the prosecution 
 of his wicked purpose did stab and Avound Sir Denail "War- 
 ner, baronet, the lady's betrothed husband, from which 
 murderous assault the said Sir Oenzil Warner, baronet, still 
 lies in great sickness and danger of death, to the great 
 displeasure of Almighty God, to the ruin and destruction 
 of the said Mrs. Angela Kirkland, to the grief and sorrow 
 of all her friends, and to the evil and most pernicious ex- 
 ample of all others in the like case offending ; and against 
 the peace of our said sovereign lord the king, his crown and 
 dignity." 
 
 The defendant having pleaded " not guilty," the jury 
 were charged in the usual manner, and with all solemnity. 
 
 ''If you find him 'guilty ' you are to say so ; if you find 
 him ' not guilty ' you are to say so, and no more, and hear 
 your evidence." 
 
 The Attorney-General confined himself to a brief outline 
 of the tragic story, leaving all details to be developed by 
 the witnesses, who Avere allowed to give their evidence with 
 a colloquial freedom and expansiveness. 
 
 The first witness was old Reuben, the steward from the 
 Manor Moat, who had not yet emerged from that mental 
 maze in which he had found himself upon beholding the 
 changes that had come to pass in the great city, since the 
 well-remembered winter of the king's execution, and the 
 long frost, when he, Reuben, Avas lost in London. His 
 evidence was confused and confusing ; and he drew upon 
 himself much good-natured ridicule from the junior who 
 opened the case. Out of various muddle-headed answers 
 and contradictory statements the facts of Lord Fareham's 
 unexpected appearance at the Manor Moat, his account of 
 
In The Court Of King's Bench. 469 
 
 his lad/s illness, and his hurried departure carrvin,. tl 
 young „,adam with hi™ ,„ h„„ebaok, w r! eSd and 
 the story of the ruse hy wluch Mrs. Angela K-kS ht 
 
 rri„^:^i: rpis r aTot^'s rhtej"f '- 
 
 ox, or the capacity of a hound tliun n'rlfff ^ f '"' 
 
 and falsehooii in I story o^ ;':o'4-rnr "^ "^ '"'' 
 
 Sir John Kirkland was the next witness, and the aspect 
 
 carnage, tlie old-fasluoned liabit, tlie fasliion of an ai 
 not long past but almost forgotten, enlisted the regard and 
 compassion of jury and audience. ^ '^ 
 
 well h„„n.a„es,u^, ^ «~; resf:^-.!-^: 
 
 .ctqi^^rc-;™'!^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 towenng above the eourt in that elov, ted positio and afte; 
 
 and"'therfl' *?t-°"° """ '"™^ °' *"' Bene 'and jW*^ 
 
 sTat-cet Jf?1 '^-'T ^''^ ""»" '"» defendant's 
 se.acely shifted .t ,n the whole course of his examina- 
 
 ^J^r"' f ""0""=" "1 the jury/' said the Attornev-Oen 
 eral <.wo shall tell yon what h.appenedat Chilton Abbev 
 to wh,eh place the defendant, under such fraud^, Int ta 
 lymg pretences as you have heard of from w 
 
 wi tnesa, eonyeyed the y„„„g hdy. Sir John I w, ask 
 
 y u trr:' 1 " ^'"^ " '""^ "■'* ^traigiuf;,,,:;!,';:' 
 
 yon can with the circumstances of your pursuit and th» 
 
 tai;"h:rirot i : ;::: Set^ir r^ '''-■' "> »•'- 
 
 within your own knowleX"^"'^ '' ""^ ""' '"'"""^ 
 
4;o 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 " My v/ords shall be straight and plain, sir, to denounce 
 that unchristian wretch whom, until this miserable business, 
 I trusted as if he had been my son. I came to my house, 
 accompanied by my daughter's plighted husband, M'ithin 
 an hour after that villain convoyed her away ; and on 
 hearing my old servant's story was quick to suspect treach- 
 ery. Nor was Sir Donzil backward in his fears, which 
 were more instantaneous than mine ; and we waited only 
 for the saddling of fresh horses, and rousing a couple of 
 sturdy grooms from their beds, fellows that I could trust 
 for prudence and courage, before we mounted again, fol- 
 lowing in that wretch's track. We heard of him and his 
 victim at the inn, where they changed horses, she going con- 
 sentingly, believing she was being taken in this haste to 
 attend a dying sister." 
 
 " And on arriving at the defendant's house, what was 
 your reception ? " 
 
 " He opposed our entrance, until he saw that we could 
 batter down his door if he shut us out longer. We were 
 not admitted until after I had sent one of my servants for 
 the nearest constable ; and before we had gained an en- 
 trance into his house he had contrived to put away my 
 daughter in a wretched hiding-place, planned for the con- 
 cealment of Romish priests or other recusants and malefac- 
 tors, and would have kept her there, I believe, till she had 
 perished in that foul cavern rather than restore her to her 
 father and natural guardian." 
 
 " That is false, and you know it," cried Fareham. 
 ** My life is of less account to me than a hair of her head. 
 I hid her from you to save her from your tyranny, and the 
 hateful marriage to which you would have compelled 
 her." 
 
 " Liar ! Impudent, barbarous liar," roared the old 
 knight, with his right arm raised, and his body half out 
 of the box, as if he would have assaulted the defendant. 
 
e, what was 
 
 In The Court Of King's Bench. 47, 
 
 evo.-y word and act „f tl.at miserabrs'crne " "'""' '" 
 
 her to tho coach wh e tooJ '"ff ';"^'""=»l>t '» convey 
 his violence in onno 1 1° " " "Muetion, and 
 
 h.a ,ven.i,, iSY/- --5^^a the fight ,hioh 
 
 "foyrrT'-''"'^'? i-portant .itn:".'"'""^' '"'^ 
 
 .onrtran'rs:^:^:,;:!:s'r:ir^^ 5"^^^^^ 
 
 ance upon your danghtert side "' "' °' "■"='"■ 
 
 "And d'' ^'l> "?*■ """"«'>•' "'"3™ '' -Idusion " 
 
 " Lady FaXm M ; ®°°'' '''"'"' ^'^ 'P"'^^ ?" 
 
 ahe waa fasfat 2 Man fa^W " T"" "'"'* *" 
 easy about her." '' """' ™ "'^''dy un- 
 
 Bo yon not thin.' ^ HJI^"^; Hd^wtf ■""■"• 
 quick to comply with hh inwioi • >^ ^^' ^^"^ ^^3 so 
 np and was in ^^: ^:Zi::^;' ^1 ^-" 
 house, and was willing to fto^vk outf ""^''''^ *^^ 
 
 any preparation for trLl had '1 ?•'''' ''""^""' ^^ 
 
 travel, Had a strong inclination for the 
 
472 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 8'' 
 
 >4" 
 
 * 
 
 journey, and a great kindness for the gentleman who solic- 
 ited her company ? " 
 
 ** lias that barbarous wretch set you on to slander the 
 lady whose ruin he souglit, sir ?" asked the knight, pallid 
 with the white heat of indignation. 
 
 " Nay, Sir John, I am no slanderer ; but I want the 
 jury to understand the sentiments and passions which are 
 the springs of action here, and to bear in mind that the 
 case they arc hearing is a love story, and they can only 
 come at the truth by remembering their own experience 
 as lovers " 
 
 The deep and angry tones of his client interrupted the 
 silvery-tongued couns.elor. 
 
 *' If you think to help me, sir, by traducing the lady, 
 I repudiate your advocacy." 
 
 " j\Iy lord, yon are not allowed to give evidence or to 
 interrupt tho court. You have pleaded not guilty, and it 
 is my duty to demonstrate your innocence. Come, Sir 
 John, do you not know that his lordship's unhappy pas- 
 sion for his sister-in-law was shared by tho subject of it ; 
 and that she for a long time opposed all your efforts to 
 bring about a proper alliance for her, solely guided and 
 influenced by this secret passion." 
 
 " I know no such thing." 
 
 " Do I understand then that from the time of your first 
 proposals she was willing to marry SirDenzil Warner ?" 
 
 " She was not willing." 
 
 " I doubted as much. Did you fathom her reason for 
 declining so proper an alliance ? " 
 
 " I did not trouble myself about her reasons. I knew 
 that time would wear them away." 
 
 ** And I doubt you trusted to a father's authority." 
 
 **No, sir. I promised my daughter that I would not 
 force her inclinations." 
 
 ** But you used all methods of persuasion. How long 
 
In The Court Of King's Bench. 473 
 
 it may Imvc been a fortnif-ht before." 
 _^ And ;n,til that time the My was unwilling." 
 
 up™ trT""' ""'""'"' '° "^'"I" "•» """«" yon urged 
 " She refused." 
 
 "And finally consented, I will wairor wJfi, , . 
 
 reluctance?^' wagtr, with marked 
 
 " JS'^o, sir, there was no relnotanno «ji,^ 
 
 of my elienfs innoeeneo npon thoenstt^TT", "'° '"7 
 the indictment abJuetion lith frLd ,d „ ^ "7^^ 
 
 :"yTo^^!:;;itf;:\r:tg-»rai"r-^''''" 
 
 cementing and wit .noZifel/ht;^:.'' "' '™'^ 
 
 e^at,t,h,to,ee.nit,.eLgS:J.-::-^ 
 
 "Call Mistress Angela Kirlrlnnri " „„•! xi 
 strong steady tones, ^1.: t .ta ed 1 ";L":'7'"' ''"; 
 fatl,ert hoarse and gasping utteranee '""»""""' 
 
 ' S life, the bushiess becomes evorv mnmn,,+ 
 orting," whispered Lady Sara << wmT TZ '"""- 
 slut own her miseonduct^in open eourl . " '""'"' """ ^'^ 
 
 "If she blush at her sh'p from virtue it »ni k 
 sensation iu Loudon law-coSrt to sel^tt'eo.oTrs;:;;: 
 
474 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 (■II 
 
 j. ,!■' 
 If I J'.' 
 
 v.' 
 
 •l" 
 
 If 
 
 
 f, 
 
 l» ' '. 
 
 replied Sir Rnlpli, heliiiul his perfumed glovo ; "but I 
 wurniiit she'll eurry mutters with a high hiind, and feel 
 herself every inch a heroine." 
 
 Angela came into the court, attended hy her waiting- 
 woman, who remained near the entrance, amid the close- 
 packed crowd of lawyers and on-lookers, while her mistress 
 quietly followed the official who conducted her to tho wit- 
 ness-box. 
 
 She was dressed in black, and her countenance under her 
 neat black hood looked scarcely less white than her lawn 
 handkerchief ; but she stood erect and unfaltering in the 
 conspicuous station, and met tho eyes of her interrogator 
 with an untroubled gaze. When she had touched the dirty 
 little book, greasy with the kisses of innumerable perjuries, 
 the sergeant proceeded to question her in a tone of odious 
 familiarity. 
 
 "Now, my dear young lady, here is a gentleman's 
 liberty, and perhaps his life, hanging on the breath of those 
 pretty lips ; so I want you to answer a tew plain questions 
 with as plain speech as you can command, remembering 
 that you are to tell us truth, and the whole truth, and 
 nothing but the truth. Come, now, dear miss, when you 
 left your father's house on the night of July 4th, in this 
 present year, in Lord Fareham's company, did you go with 
 him of your free will, and with a knowledge of his purpose ? " 
 " I knew that he loved me." 
 
 A heart-broken groan from Sir John Kirkland was 
 hushed down by an usher of the court. 
 
 " You knew that he loved you, and that he designed to 
 carry you beyond seas ? " 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And you were willing to leave your father's custody, 
 and to go with the defendant as his paramour ?" 
 
 There was a pause, and the white cheek crimsoned, and 
 the heavy eyelids fell over agonized eyes. 
 
irkland was 
 
 In The Court Of King's Rcnch. 475 
 
 " Yea ; I went willingly-becuuso I loved him," and th.n 
 With a sucldon burst of passion, '^ would have d d Z 
 h.m, or lived for him. It mattered not which/' ' 
 
 And she has lied for him-has sworn toalie-and that 
 to her own dishonor," cried 8ir John, besido h n sel f 
 whereupon he was sternly bidden to keep silence ' 
 
 Ihero was no intention that this little 13uckinf?hamshire 
 gent eman should be indulged to the injury of a perToT 
 LordFarehams wealth and consequence/ The W of 
 the bench obviously leant towards the defendant. 
 J^^areham s deep tones startled the audience 
 
 in Jr *'"*!'' r^' ^T""'' *'•" y^""^ '^^y l^^i« belied herself 
 
 n order to help me," he said ; -I cannot accept acqu ta 
 
 at the cost of her good name." acquittal 
 
 " Your lordship has pleaded not guilty " 
 nr,C/ri? ^'' ^'''^^"^''' '^'''''^'^ ^^°"1^^ revoke that p^ea " 
 
 that tl/rrv '^f' '' "^^^ ^^^-^s"^-- I--tbeg 
 
 that the Bench do order the defendant to keep silence 
 Ihe witness can stand down." ^"tiice. 
 
 Angela descended from the witness-box falteringly and 
 would perhaps have fallen but for her father's strong gra^^^^^ 
 which clutched her arm as she reached the last step.^ "^^ 
 
 the'o;eS '" ^"' '' ''' '''''■'^'''' --^' -^ -to 
 ''Wanton ! "he hissed in her ear, - shameless wanton r " 
 She answered nothing; but stood where he held L 
 with wild eyes looking out of a white rigid counte Lne' 
 She had done what she haa come there to do. Persuaded 
 by Fareham's lawyer, who had waited upon he a her 
 lodgings when Sir John was out of the way she had mad 
 her Ill-considered attempt to save the man she loved 
 Ignorant of he extent of his danger, exaggerating the p': 
 tential seventy of his punishment, in the illimitable fear 
 of a woman for the safety of the being she loves And 
 no^v she cared nothing what became of her, cared lUUe 
 
 }.. 
 
476 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 oven for her fatlicr's anger or distress. There was always 
 the convent, hist refuge of sin or sorrow, whicli meant the 
 annihilation of the individual, and where the world's praise 
 or hlamo had no influence. 
 
 Tier woman fussed ahout her with a hottlo of strong 
 essence, and Sir John drag;,'ed rather than led her along 
 the hall, to the gnnit door where the coach that had (tarried 
 her from his London lodgings was in waiting, lie saw her 
 seated, with her woman beside lier, 8ui)j)orting her, gave 
 the coachman his orders, and then went hastily back to 
 the Court of King's Bench. 
 
 The court was rising, the jury, without leaving their 
 seats, had pronounced the defendant guilty of a misde- 
 meanor, not in conveying Sir John Kirkland's daughter 
 away from her home, to which act she had avowed herself 
 a consenting party ; but in detaining her with violence, 
 and in opposition to her father and proper guardian. The 
 Lord Chief Justice expressed his .satisfaction at this verdict, 
 and after expatiating with pious horror upon the evil 
 consequences of an ungovernable passion, a guilty, soul- 
 destroying love, a direct inspiration of Satan, sentenced 
 the defendant to pay a fine of ten thousand pounds, 
 upon the payment of which sum he would be sot at 
 liberty. 
 
 The old Cavalier heard thebricf sermon and the sentence 
 which seemed to him of all punishments the most futile. 
 He had hoped to see his son-in-law sent to the jdantations 
 for life ; had boon angry at tlie thought that he would 
 escape the gallows ; and for sole penalty he was sentenced 
 to forfeit less than a year's income. How corrupt and 
 venial was a bench that made the law of the land a nullity 
 when a great personage was the law-breaker I 
 
 He flung himself in the defendant's way as ho left the 
 court, and struck him across the breast with the flat of his 
 Bword, 
 
 '^vi^ 
 
In The Court Of King's Bench. 477 
 
 ehivdrv"''"!.v'V''''''' f ;'"'"'• '" """ >°"^ "■''-"•"fW 
 
 cniiiiliy .' I'lirelium aakwl, quietly. 
 
 A e,-„w,l wus muiul li„,,„ an,l sivonls wore drawn b,.faro 
 he „Hu.e,-coul,l ,nt,.rtore. There were fnen.l, „r ..■,„...| Z" 
 " the coart, and two „t |,i» gentlemen ; and .Sir , 1 , 
 who w,« „Ione, n.ight In.ve been seriously' h„rt I, L- tl 
 
 rrrtS"''''"""'^' .uLnothuij';: 
 
 the slightest vieleneo offered to this gentle::,;." ""' ""™ 
 
 Jonn , that is the dilfereneo between us. I keen no 
 measures w,th the man who mined my daughter." ' 
 Your daughter is as spotless a saint a, the day she 
 
 ie "irr-hr' ^■°" "" " '"'"™' »''' """ '<> '-" 
 
 away. ' """'l""''""'!' ■« *''« "»her led him 
 
 His detention was no more tlian a formality : and as ho 
 
 had been prev,ou8ly allowed ids liberty upon l^aiT, he was 
 
 now permitted to return to his own house, whe,; vTn 
 
 The first use he made of his freedom w.as to rush to Sir 
 Johns lodgmgs, only to hear that the Cavalier, wt hs 
 daughter and two servants, ha,lleft half an hourearl er in 
 a ooaeh and four for ISuekinghamshire. The pjo e It u c 
 lodgmgs d,d not know which road they had take t 
 what inn they wore to lie on the way 
 
 " Well, there will bo a hotter ohanee of seeing her at tho 
 Manor than m London," Fareham thought .■ .?h„ eatnot 
 
 o^r: tii::.:^' "■'™ "- "'-°- '--arrow™:: 
 
4;8 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 
 BRINGERS OF SUNSHI.NTE. 
 
 It was Decembei, and the fields and pastures were white 
 in the tardy dawn with the light frosts of early winter, 
 and Sir John Kirkland was busy making his preparations 
 for leaving Buckinghamshire and England with his daugh- 
 ter. He had come from Spain at the beginning of the year, 
 hoping to spend the remnant of his days in the home of his 
 forefathers, and to lay his old bones in the family vault ; but 
 the place was poisoned to him for evermore, he told Angela. 
 He could not stay where he and his had been held in 
 highest honor, to have his daughter pointed at by e^eiy 
 grinning lout in hobnailed shoes, and scorned by the 
 neighboring quality. He only waited till Denzil Warner 
 should be pronounced out of danger and on the high-road 
 to recovery, before he crossed the Channel. 
 
 " There is no necessity that you should leave Bucking- 
 hamshire, sir," Angela argued. "It is the dearest wish 
 of my heart to return to the convent at Louvain, and 
 finish my life there, sheltered from the world's contempt." 
 ** What, having failed to get your fancy, you would ded- 
 icate yourself to God ? " he cried. " No, madam. I am 
 still your father, though you have disgraced me ; and I 
 require a daughter's duty from you. Oh, child, I so loved 
 you, Avas so proud of you ! It is a bitter physic you have 
 given me to drink." 
 
 She knelt at his feet, and kissed his sunburnt hands, 
 shrunken with age. 
 ** I will do whatever you desire, sir, I wish no higher 
 
 I 
 
Bringcrs Of Sunshine. 
 
 479 
 
 privilege than to wait upon you ; but when you weary of 
 me there is ever the convent." 
 
 '/Leave tiiat for your libertine sister. Be sure she will 
 finish a loose life by a conspicuous piety. She will turn 
 saint like Madame de Longueville. Sinners are the stuff 
 of which modern saints are made. And women love ex- 
 tremes, to pass from silk and luxury to four o'clock matins 
 and the Carmelite's woolen habit. ^^o, Angela, there 
 must be no convent for you, while I live. Your penance 
 wi 1 be to suffer the company of a petulant, disappointed 
 old man. ^^ 
 
 " No penance, sir ; but peace and contentment, so I am 
 but forgiven." 
 
 ;; Oh, you are forgiven. There is that about you with 
 which one cannot long be angry-a creature so gentle and 
 submissive, a reed that bends under a blow. Let us not 
 think of the past. You were a fool-but not a wanton. 
 No I will never believe that ! A generous, headstrong 
 fool, ready with thine own perjured lips to blacken thy 
 character m order to save the villain who did his best to 
 ruin thee. But thou art pure,'^ looking down at her with 
 a severe scrutiny : - there is no memory of guilt in those 
 eyes. We will go away together, and live peacefully to- 
 gether and you shall still be the staff of my failing steps, 
 the hght of my fading eyes, the comfort of my ebbing life 
 Were I but easy in my mind about those poor forsaken 
 grandchildren, I could leave England cheerfully enouo-h • 
 but to know them motherless— with such a father ! " * ' 
 "Indeed, sir. I believe, however greatlv Lord Fareham 
 may have erred, he will not prove a neglectful father " 
 Angela said, her voice growing low and tremulous as she 
 pronounced that fatal name. 
 
 - You will vouch fo-- him, no doubt. A licentious 
 villain, but an admirable father ? No, child, nature does 
 not deal m such anomalies. The children are alone at 
 

 i ) 
 
 '-IfM! 
 
 if > ".i ' ' 
 
 1 , 
 
 480 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 Chilton with tlieir Enghsh gouvornante, and the prim 
 Frenchwoman, who takes inlhiite pains to perfect Ilen- 
 riette's unlikencss to a human child. They are alone, 
 and their father is hungiiig about the Court." 
 
 " At Court ! Lord Fareham ! Indeed, sir, I think you 
 must be mistaken." 
 
 '' Indeed, madam, I have the fact on good authority." 
 " Oh, sir, if you have reason to think those dear chil- 
 dren neglected, is it not your duty to protect and care for 
 them? Their poor mistaken mother has abandoned 
 them." 
 
 " Yes, to play the great lady in Paris, where, when I 
 went in quest of her last July while thou wert lying sick 
 here— hoping to bring back a penitent, I was received with 
 a triumphant insolence, finding her the center of a circle 
 of flatterers, a Princess in little, with all the airs, and 
 graces, and ceremonies, and hauteur of the French Blood- 
 royal. When I charged her with being Malfort's mistress, 
 and bade her pack her traps and come home with me, she 
 deafened me with her angry volubility, I to slander her— 
 I, her father, when there was no one in Paris from the 
 Place Eoyal to the Louvre more looked up to. But when 
 I questioned my old friends they answered with enigmatical 
 smiles, and assured me that they knew nothing against my 
 daughter's character worse than all the world was saying 
 about some of the highest ladies in France— madame, to 
 wit ; and with this cold comfort I must needs be content, 
 and leave her in her splendid infamy." 
 
 Father, be sure she will come back to us. She has been 
 led into wrongdoing by the artfullest of villains. She will 
 discover the emptiness of her life, and come back to seek 
 the solace of her children's love. Let us care for them 
 meanwhile. They have no other kindred. Think of our 
 sweet Henrietta— so rich, so beautiful, so over-intelligent 
 —growing from child to woman in the care &f servants, 
 
Bringers Of Sunshine. 
 
 481 
 
 who may spoil and pervert her even by their very fond- 
 
 "It is a bad case, I grant ; but I can stir no finger where 
 that man is concerned. I can hold no communication 
 with that scoundrel." 
 
 " But your lawyer could claim custody of the children 
 for you, perhaps." 
 
 ..17 f*^"f., ''^\ ^''^'^''' ""'''' ^'"""^ ^'*^« ^ ^^-in'inal 
 souls ' ^^^^'' ^^'' ^''''' "^ "'"^""^ °f 
 
 Angela's greatest anxiety-now that Denzil's recoverv 
 was assured-was for the welfare of these cliildren wliom 
 she fondly loved, and for whom slie would have gladly 
 played a mother's part. She had written in secret to her 
 sister, entreating licr to return to England for her children's 
 sake, and to devote herself to them in retirement at Ciiilton 
 leaving the scandal of her elopement to be forgotten in 
 the course of blameless secluded years ; so that by the time 
 Henriette was old enougli to enter the world her mother 
 would have recovered the esteem of worthy people, as well 
 as the respect of the mob. 
 
 ^ Lady Fareham'8 tardy answer had not been encourag- 
 mg. She had no design of returning to a house in which 
 she had never been properly valued, and slie admired that 
 her sister should talk of scandal, considering that the 
 scandal of her own intrigue with her brother-in-law had 
 set all £ng-land talking, and had been openly mentioned 
 in the London and Oxford Gazettes. Silence about other 
 people's affairs would best become a young miss who had 
 made herself so notorious. 
 
 As for the children, Lady Fareham had no doubt that 
 their father, who had ever lavished more affection upon 
 them than he bestowed upon his wife, might be trusted 
 with the care of them, however abominable his conduct 
 might oe m other matters. But in any case her ladyship 
 
482 
 
 When The World Was Younjrer. 
 
 r 
 
 I) 
 I' 
 
 ?: 
 
 would not exchange Puris for London, wliere slie Imd been 
 slighted iind neglected at court as well as at home. 
 
 The letter was a tissue of injustice and egotism ; and 
 Angela gave up all lu)|)o of influencing her sister for good ; 
 but not the hope of being useful to her sister's children. 
 
 Now, as the short winter days wont by, and the prepara- 
 tions for departure were nuiking, she grow more and more 
 urgent with Jier father to obtain the custody of his grand- 
 children, and carry them to Fraiu^e with him, where they 
 might be reared and educated under his own eye. Mont- 
 pelicr was the jdace of exile ho had chosen, a place re- 
 nowned alike for its admirable clima: and educational 
 establishments ; and whqi-e Sir. John had spent the previous 
 winter, and had made friends. 
 
 It was to Montpelier the great chancellor had retired 
 from the Bplendors of a priiicely mansion but just com- 
 pleted—far exceeding his own original intentions in 
 
 splendor, as the palaces of new-made men are apt to do 
 
 and from a power and authority second only to that of 
 royalty. There the grandfather of future queens wiis now 
 residing in modest state, devoting the evening of his life to 
 the composition of an authentic record of the late rebellion 
 and of those few years during which he had been at the 
 head of alfairs in England. Sir John Kirkland, who had 
 never forgotten his own disaj)pointments in the beginning 
 of his master's restored fortunes, had a fellow-feeling for 
 "Ned Hyde" in his fall. 
 
 *' As a statesman ho was next in capacity to Wentworth," 
 said Sir John, " and yet a painted favorite and a rabble 
 of shallow wits were strong enough to undermine him. 
 The old knight confessed that he had ridden out of hia 
 way on several occasions when he was visiting Warner's 
 sick-bed, in the hope of meeting Ilenriette and George on 
 their ponies, and had more than once been so lucky as to 
 see them. 
 
 'U'i 
 
Bringcrs Of Sunsliine. 
 
 483 
 
 '■ Tl.o girl gro..v» l,a,„k„mcT, ,„,<! is ax insoIcnl> aa ever • 
 
 iltr ,„„u,e, ; though It was iruleo.l „f that uretch l,,.r 
 atl.er she talked ,„„st. S' , sai.l he ha,l t„l, t 
 
 S, It L 1 T ,"' *''""I"'"'"-- ■"'" same country 
 
 teot j^lu'" '""' '"^ ''""«'■""• "'"'<•• I 'ive t„ ,,r„- 
 
 Angela began to uiiderstanil that it was his f, r ■ 
 
 hatred of Fareham whieh was tal<in.hi,r, u In i ' , 
 country No word had been .aid 'o'f'TeH: 1 C: 
 that fatal n.ght. It seeme,l tacitly understood th .11 
 was at an end between her and Den.il Warne," st ,e 
 self had been prostrate with a lew nervous fever dri,,," 
 
 St™ r- wS D "'1 1'-'-^r""' °' 'wrchens':;' ;d 
 
 aistrosa m which Ucnzil lay almost at the point of death 
 nursed by h,s grief-stricken mother, to whom he v 
 name of his so lately betrothed wife vaTlIXl 'vcrH^ 
 he pap,st,cal bride had brought a greater troul e to t -^ 
 
 t.cipated. Kneehng by her son's bed, exhausted with tho 
 passion of long prayers for his recovery, the mo Lrt 
 
 thSo roT'th::','" *"°, -^^^ -"'^ ^"^-'■' "-" 
 
 Mieshold of that house for the first time, so fair so 
 m„«, w,th a countenance so innocent in' its p::;;i:: 
 
 "And yet she was guilty at heart even then " Tnd^ 
 
 ri™: wtt "^-fV'",,*"" '""' "'«'>'-™'0her:fteS 
 trial at AFcstmnister Hall, when Angela's public eoi,fn,=,-„,, 
 an unlawful love had been reported to ^ ^ tr 
 .to Nonconformist divine, who had been in court tlroIT 
 out the trud, «th My Warner's lawyer, watchtag the 
 proceedings m the interest of Sir Denzil 
 
 Lady Warner received the news of the verdict and sen- 
 tence with unspeakable indignation. 
 
II 
 
 
 ■ri-'f«»i( 
 
 
 M 
 
 484 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 ''And my murdered son \" she gasped; "for I know 
 not yet tliat God will hesir my prayers and raise him up to 
 me again. Is his blood to count for nothing— or his suf- 
 ferings—his patient suit'erings on tliat bed ? A fine— a 
 paltry fine— a trifle for a rich man. I would pay thrice as 
 much, though it beggared mo, to see him sent to the plan- 
 tations. Judge and Avenger of blood. Thou hast 
 scourged ns with pestilence, and punished us with fire ; 
 but Thou hast not convinced us of sin. The world is so 
 sunk in wickedness that murder scarce counts for crime." 
 The day of terror was past. Denzii's convalescence was 
 proceeding slowly, but without retrograde stages. His 
 youth and temperate haibits had helped his recovery from 
 a wound which in the earlier stages looked fatal. He was 
 able to sit up in an armchair, and talk to his visitor now, 
 when Sir John rode twenty miles to see him ; but only 
 once did his lips shape the name that had been so dear, 
 and that occasion was at the end of a visit Avhich Sir John 
 announ(;ed as the last. 
 
 " Our goods are packed and ready for shipping," he said. 
 " My daughter and I will begin our journey to Montpelier 
 early next week." 
 
 It was the first time Sir John had spoken of his daughter 
 in that sick room." 
 
 " If she could ever speak to me, in the time to come," 
 Denzil said— speaking very slowly, in a low voice, as 'if 
 the effort, mental and physical, were almost beyond his 
 strength, and holding the hand which Sir John had given 
 him in saying good-bye— « tell her that 1 shall ever re- 
 member her with a compassionate affection— ever hold her 
 the dearest and loveliest of women— yes, even if I should 
 marry, and see the children of some fair and chaste wife 
 growing up around me. She will ever be the first. And 
 tell her that I know she belied herself in the court ; and 
 that she was the innocent dupe of that villain— never his 
 
Bringcrs Of Sunshine. 
 
 485 
 consenting companion. Ami toll l,cr that I pity her oven 
 or t at so ,„,»„laeed affection which tomptea her to JoZ 
 to a te. I knew s.r uhvayx that she loved him and not 
 
 to read hat uneonscons beginning of unholy love, whiel^ 
 grow and strengthened like son.e fatal ,liseuse. I knew 
 
 wroL b T; , .""' """ ■•''«'" ""'«' 1"-''™'! over 
 wiong but ,t does not, you see, sir, not aIw»ys_not " 
 
 A . mtness eame over him ; whereupon his mother, re-en- 
 
 mm with the strong essence that stood handy amon.' the 
 medieme bottles on the table by his chair. ^ " " 
 
 You have suffered him to talk too much " she said 
 gtocmg angr ly at Sir Jolm. " And I'll w™, L ta 
 
 to i,^7odk'°""v «'■'"- '''°'^ ■""«■"-' •'-roiso: 
 
 da„i::frThused'-:i."'" '"""' '» ""^ ■'°"- '» "^ "X 
 
 to L'^pTwt ;r ti:ir:r» ^- «'^ j"'- ^^'^-d, 
 
 iU;;^'!!!:!"' """^'^ ' ^»" "'="•«» ■»» «-« than my 
 
 " This, madam, is my farewell visit. You will not bo 
 plagued any more with me," said Sir John, lifting iLhat 
 and bowmg low to Lady Warner. "'"g ms Hat, 
 
 He was gone before she could reply. 
 
 linTn ' ^iT^^' ™ '•'^f y-"'""'"'- books, guns, plate, and 
 Imen-all necessaries for an ctilo that mij.lit last for Cears 
 
 bales hTd Pt' Vr"" "" ™-™S^' ''"'"" t^n^sTnd 
 bales had not yet been placed in the wagon that wa. il 
 
 convey them to the Tower Wharf, where Cy wore^ bo 
 
 hipped m one of the orange-boats that came at this season 
 
 from Valencia laden with that choice and costly fruit tnd 
 

 486 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 
 returned witli a heterogeneous cargo. At Valencia the 
 goods would be shipped to a Mediterranean coasting vessel, 
 and landed at Cette. 
 
 Sir John began to waver about his destination after hav- 
 ing heard from Ilenriottc of her father's possible embassy. 
 Certainly if Fareharawero to be employed in foreign diplo- 
 macy, Paris seemed a likely post for a man who was so 
 well known there, and had spent so much of his life in 
 France. And if Fareham were to be at Paris, Sir John 
 considered Montpelier, remote as it was from the capital, 
 too near his enemy. 
 
 " He has proved himself so bold a villain," thought the 
 knight. " And I could not always keep as close a watch 
 upon my daughter as I have done in the last six weeks. 
 No. If Fareham be for France, I am for some other coun- 
 try. I might take her to Florence, put the Apennines 
 between her and that daring wretch." 
 
 It may be, too, that Sir John had another reason for 
 lingering after all was ready for the journey. He may 
 have been influenced by Angela's concern about his grand- 
 children, and may have hesitated at leaving them alone in 
 England with only salaried guardians. 
 
 " Their father concerns himself very little about them, 
 you see," he told Angela, "since he can entertain the pro- 
 ject of a foreign embassy, while those little wretches are 
 pining in a lonely barrack in Oxfordshire." 
 
 " Indeed sir, he is a fond father, I would wager my life 
 that he is deeply concerned about them." 
 
 " Oh, he is an angel, on your showing ! You would 
 blacken your sister's character to make him a saint." 
 
 The next day was fine and sunny, a temperature as of 
 April, after the morning frost had melted. There was a 
 late rose or two still lingering in the sheltered Bucking- 
 hamshire valley, though it wanted but a fortnight of Christ- 
 mas. Angela and her father were sitting in a parlor that 
 
Brlngers Of Sunshine. 
 
 reading alond till Sir John f..n .,L , ^°°"' 
 
 mon4gamo ,he doto^a tL eTe'n" ;""^''"''fT- 
 
 ^^P.i.^»u. aH.o l.ve ^ceUrj tU^^X"" 
 
 Wht , tankardof home-brewed and his daughter's cho^! 
 
 " Indeed, sir, it would be a cruel thin^ fnr ,10 + u ■, 
 
 them. AtMontpelier we shall bp of f ." ''^''"^°'' 
 
 from England; and if euLr of tbl /'^^^ J^"^"^3^ 
 
 fflli ;ii 1 ,^^°^t"ose dear creatures shoiibl 
 
 iiette or George dynig among strangers ! Acold or I fT 
 
 XT?;i?;r .t; '- ^- - - --"- 
 
 "Why, what a raven thon art, ever to croak dismal 
 

 Hi*' .. 
 
 mv 
 
 th 
 
 }^] 
 
 488 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 prophecies. The children are strong and well, and have 
 careful custodians ; and I can have no dealings with their 
 fatlier. Must I toll you that a hundred times, Angela ? 
 He is a consummate villain ; and were it not that I fear to 
 make a bigger scandal, he or I should not have survived 
 many hours after that iniquitous sentence." 
 
 A happy solution of this difficulty, which distressed the 
 knight much more than his stubbornness allowed him to 
 admit, was close at hand that morning, while Angola bent 
 over her embroidery frame, and her father spelt through 
 the last " London Gazette " that the post had brought him. 
 
 The clatter of hoofs and roll of wheels announced a visit ; 
 and while they were looking at the gate, full of wonder, 
 since their visitors wore of so small a number, a footman in 
 the Fareham livery pulled the iron ring that hung by a 
 chain from the stone pillar, and the bell rang loud and 
 long in the frosty air. The Fareham livery ! Twice be- 
 fore the Fareham coaches and liveries had taken that quiet 
 household by surprise ; but to-day terror rather than sur- 
 prise was in Angela's mind as she stood in front of the 
 window looking at the gate. 
 
 " Could Fareham bo so rash as to face her father, so 
 daring as to seek a farewell interview on the eve of depart- 
 ure?*' No, she told herself; such folly was impossible. 
 The visitor could be but one person — Ilenriette. Even 
 assured of this in her own mind, she did not rush to wel- 
 come her niece, but stood as if turned to stone, waiting for 
 the opening of the gate. 
 
 Old Reuben, having seen the footman, went himself to 
 admit the visitors with his grandson and slave in attendance. 
 
 " It must be her little ladyship," he said, taking his 
 young mistress's view of the case. " He would never dare 
 to show his deceiving face here. 
 
 A shrill voice greeted him from the carriage window 
 before he reached the gate. 
 
Bri'ngcrs Of Sunshine. 
 
 489 
 
 [, and have 
 with their 
 ?, Angela ? 
 at I fear to 
 /o survived 
 
 ti'csHod the 
 'cd him to 
 LUgela bent 
 It tlirongh 
 ouglit him. 
 ced a visit; 
 Df wonder, 
 footman in 
 
 hung by a 
 
 • loud and 
 
 Twice be- 
 
 i that quiet 
 
 than sur- 
 3nt of tho 
 
 father, so 
 of depart- 
 mpossible. 
 Ae. Even 
 jsh to wel- 
 vaiting for 
 
 himself to 
 ttendanee. 
 taking his 
 never dare 
 
 e window 
 
 ** You are the slowest old wretch I ever saw," cried tho 
 voice. " Don't you know that when visitors of importance 
 come to a house they expect to bo let in ? I vow a convent 
 gate would be opened quicker." 
 
 '* Indeed, your ladyship, when your legs arc as old as 
 mine " 
 
 ** Wiiich I hope they never will be," muttered Ilcnriette, 
 as she descended with a languid slowness from tho coach, 
 ji«Misted on either side by a footman ; while George, wlio 
 could not wait for her airs and graces, let himself out at 
 the door on tho olf side just as Keuben succeeded in turn- 
 ing tho key. 
 
 "So you are oiu, Reuben ?" he said, patting the butler 
 on the shoulder with tho gold hilt of his riding-whip. 
 "And you were here, like a vegetable, all through the 
 Civil "Wars, the Commonwealth ? " 
 
 " Yes, your lordship, from the raising of Hampden's 
 regiment." 
 
 " Ah, you shall tell me all about it over a pipe and a 
 bottle. You must be vastly good company, I am come to 
 live hero." 
 
 " To live here, your honor ?" 
 
 " Yes ; sister and I are to live here while my father rep- 
 resents his Majesty beyond seas. I hope you have good 
 stabling and plenty of room. My ponies and Mistress 
 Henriette's Arab horse will be here to-morrow. I doubt I 
 shall have to build a place for my hawks ; but I suppose 
 Sir John will find me a cottage for my Dutch falconer." 
 " Lord, how the young master do talk ! " exclaimed 
 Reuben, with an admiring grin. 
 
 The boy was so rapid in his speech, had such vivacity 
 and courage in his face, such a spring in every movement, 
 as if he had quicksilver in his veins, Reuben thought ; but 
 it was only the quicksilver of youth, that divine ichor 
 which lasts for so short a season. 
 
m 
 
 When The W./-1d Was Younger. 
 
 1^ 
 
 1 >» 
 
 «*It#m^ me feel twenty yeurs you.» arer only to hem 
 him prattle,'^ R<«ubon said ufterwurds. 
 
 Sir Jolin and his daugiitor had come to meet the chil- 
 dren by tliia time, and there were fond ombracings, in the 
 midst of which Ilenrietto witlidrew herself from her grand- 
 father's arms and retired a coui)lo of paces, in order to 
 drop him the Jenniii.;'8 courtsey, sinking almost to the 
 gronnd, and then rising from billows of silk, like Venns 
 from the sea, and handing him a letter, with a circular 
 sweep of her arm, learnt in London from her Parisian 
 dancing mistress, m apprentice of St. Andre's, not from 
 the shabby littlo French cut-caper from Oxford. 
 "' My father sends you this letter, sir.'* 
 " Is your father at Chilton ? " 
 
 " No, sir. He was with us the day before yesterday to 
 bid ns good-bye before he started upon his foreign em- 
 bassy,'' replied Honriette, struggling with her tears, lest 
 she should seem a child and not the woman of fashion she 
 aspired to be. " He left us early in the afternoon to ride 
 back to London, and ho takes barge this afternoon to 
 Gravesend, to embark for Archangel, on his way to Mos- 
 cow. I doubt you know he is to be his Majesty's ambassa- 
 dor at Muscovy." 
 
 " I know nothing but what you told me t'other day, 
 Henriette,'' the knight answered, as they went to the housed 
 where George began to run about on an exploration of cor- 
 ridors, and then escaped to the stables, t^ hile Henriette 
 stood in front of the great wood fire, and warmed her 
 hands in a stately manner. 
 
 Angela had found no words of welcome for her niece yet. 
 She only huggp-'' and kissed her, and now occupied herself 
 unfastening the 'raid's hood and cloak. 
 
 " How your hr,;. \ »; akr, uuntie ! You must be colder 
 than I am ; tho urh ,,.ai, ; oathern c^ach lets in the wind 
 like a sieve. J e Tpi -.so my pecjiie will know where to 
 
 n 
 
Bringcrs Of Sunshine. 
 
 491 
 dispose themselves ? " she addeil, resuming her gruud 
 
 " Kenben will take care of them, dearest/' 
 
 "Why, your v..ic(. shakes like youriiands; and, oh, how 
 white yon are. Bui you are glad to see ua, I hope ? " 
 
 "Gladdor than I can say, Ileurlotte." 
 
 " I jm glad you don't call mo Papillon. I have left off 
 th;i( ridiculous name, wiiicii I ouglit never to have per- 
 mitted." ^ 
 
 ^ *♦ I doubt, mistress, you who know so much, know what 
 13 in this letter," said Sir John, staring utFareliam's super- 
 scription as if he had come suddenly upon an adder. 
 
 "Nay, sir, I only know that my father was shut in his 
 library for a long time writing, and was as white as my 
 aunt IS now when he brougiit it to mo. ' You and Cxeorgo 
 and your gouvernante and servants, are to go to the Mmior 
 Moat the day after to-morrow,' he said, 'and you are to 
 give this letter into your grandfather's hand.' I have 
 done my duty, and await your honor's pleasure. Our 
 gouvernante is not the Frenchwoman. Father dismissed 
 her for neglecting my education, and walking out after 
 dark with Daniel Lettsome. It is only Priscilla, who is 
 something between a servant and a friend, and who does 
 everything I tell her." 
 " A pretty gouvernante.'* 
 
 " Nay, sir, she is as plain as a pikestaff ; that is one of 
 her m.rits. Mademoiselle thought herself pretty, and 
 angled for a rich husband. Please be so good as to 
 read your letter, grandfather, for I believe it is about 
 
 US* 
 
 Sir John broke the seal, and beg-m to read the letter with 
 a frowning brow, which liglitened as he read. Angela 
 stood with her niece clasped in her arms, and watched her 
 father s countenance across the silky brown head that 
 nestled against her bosom. 
 
492 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 ,i 
 
 I; ' 
 I* 
 
 " Sir. 
 
 ''Were it not in the inter 8st of others who must 
 needs hold a place in your affectiou, second only to that 
 they have in my heart, I should scarce presume to address 
 you ; but it is to the grandfather of my children I write 
 rather than to the gentleman whom I have so deeply of- 
 fended. I look back, sir, and repent the violence of that 
 unhappy night ; but know no change in the melancholy 
 passion that impelled me to crime. It would have been 
 better for me had I been the worst rake-hell at Whitehall, 
 than to have held myself aloof from the modish vices of 
 my day, only to concentrate all my desires and affections, 
 there, where it was most sinful to place them. 
 
 " Enough, sir. Did 1 stand alone, I should have found 
 an easy solution of all my difficulties, and you, and the 
 lady my madness has so insulted, would have been rid for 
 ever of the despicable wretch who now addresses you. 
 
 '' I had to remember the dear innocents who bring you 
 this letter, and it was of them I thought when I humbled 
 myself to turn courtier in order to obtain the post of 
 ambassador to Muscovy — in which savage place I shall 
 be so remote from all who ever knew me in this country, 
 that I shall be as good as dead ; and you would have as 
 much compunction in withholding your love and protection 
 from my boy and girl as if they were de facto orphans. I 
 send them to you, sir, unheralded. I fling them into the 
 bosom of your love. They are rich, and the allowance that 
 will be paid you for them will cover, I doubt, all outlays on 
 their behalf, or can be increased at your pleasure. My 
 lawyers, whom you know, will be at your service for all 
 communications ; and will spare you the pain of corre- 
 spondence with me. 
 
 " I leave the nurture, education, and happiness of these, 
 my only son and daughter, solely in your care and authority. 
 They have been reared in overmuch luxury, and have been 
 
Bringers Of Sunshine. 493 
 
 spoiled by injudicious indulgence. But their faults are 
 small faults, and are all on the surface. They are truth- 
 ful, and have warm and generous hearts. I shall deem it 
 a further favor if you allow their nurse, or nurse-gouver- 
 nante, Mrs. Priscilla Baker, to remain with them, as 
 your servant, and subject to your authority. Their horses 
 ponies, hawks, and hounds, carriages, etc., must be accom- 
 modated or not at your pleasure. My girl is greatly taken 
 up with the Arab horse I gave her on her last birthday, 
 and I should be glad if your stable could shelter him. I 
 subscribe myself, perhaps for the last time, sir, 
 ** Your obedient servant, and a penitent sinner, 
 
 " Fareham.*' 
 
 When he had come to the end of the letter, reading 
 slowly and thoughtfully. Sir John handed it to his daughter, 
 in a dead silence. 
 
 She tried to read ; but at sight of the beloved writing a 
 rush of tears blinded her, and she gave the letter back to 
 her father. 
 
 "I cannot read it, sir," she sobbed ; "tell me only, are 
 we to keep the children ? " 
 
 " Yes. Henceforward they are our children ; and it 
 will be the business of our lives to make them happy." 
 
 " If you cry, tante, I shall think you are vexed that we 
 have come to plague you," said Henriette, with a pretty 
 womanly air. " I am very sorry for his poor lordship, for 
 he also cried when he kissed us ; but he will have skating 
 and sledging in Muscovy, and he will shoot beais ; so he 
 will be very happy." 
 
494 
 
 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 IN A DEAD CALM. 
 
 The great bales and chests and leather trunks, on the 
 filling whereof Sir John's household had bestowed a week's 
 labor, were all unpacked and cleared out of the hall, to 
 make room for a wagon load of packages from Chilton 
 Abbey, which preliminary Avagon was followed day after 
 day by other conveyances laden with other possessions of 
 the Honorable Henriette, or the Honorable George. The 
 young lady's virginals, her guitar, her embroidery frames, 
 her books, her '' babies," which the maids had packed, 
 although it was long since she had played with them ; 
 the young gentleman's guns and whips, tennis rackets, 
 bows and arrows, and a mass of heterogeneous goods ; 
 there seemed no end to the two children's personal property, 
 and it was well that the old house was sufficiently spacious 
 to afford a wing for their occupation. They brought their 
 gouvernante, and a valet and maid, the falconer, and three 
 grooms, for whom lodgings had to be found out-of-doors. 
 The valet and waiting-woman spent some days in distribut- 
 ing and arranging all that mass of belongings ; but at the 
 end of their labor the children's room looked more cheer- 
 ful than their luxurious quarters at Chilton, and the 
 children themselves were delighted with their new home. 
 
 " We are lodged ever so much better here than at the 
 Abbey," George told his grandfather, " we were so far 
 away from father and mother, and the house was under 
 a curse, being stolen from the Church in King Henry's 
 
In A Dead Calm. 
 
 495 
 
 ;s, on the 
 
 a week's 
 3 hall, to 
 . Chilton 
 day after 
 ssions of 
 ?e. The 
 if frames, 
 
 packed, 
 h them ; 
 
 rackets, 
 3 goods ; 
 property, 
 
 spacious 
 ght their 
 md three 
 of-doors. 
 listribut- 
 ut at the 
 •e cheer- 
 
 and the 
 V home, 
 n at the 
 ■e so far 
 as under 
 
 Henrj's 
 
 reign. Once, when I had a fever, an old gray monk came 
 and sat at the foot of the bed, between the curtains, and 
 wouldn t go away. He sat there always, till I began to 
 get well agam. Father said there was nothing there, and 
 It was only the fever made me see him ; but I know it 
 was the ghost of one of the monks who were flung out 
 to starve when the Abbey was seized by Cromwell's men 
 Not Oliver Cromwell, grandfather ; but another bad 
 man of the name, who had his head cut off after- 
 
 Brlwer « "^^ ^ ^°"^* ^' ^"'"'^"'^ ^^' ''''' ^''' ^^^"^ *^^ 
 
 There was no more talk of Montpelier or of exile A 
 
 now life began in the old house in the valley, with 'new 
 
 pleasures, new motives, new duties-a life in which the 
 
 ruled at the Manor Moat. For them the fish-pond teemed 
 with carp and tench, for them hawks flew, and hounds ran 
 and horses and ponies were moving from morning till 
 twilight; for them Sir John grew young again, and hunted 
 fox and hare, and rode with the hawks with all the perti- 
 nacity of youth for whom there is no such word as enough. 
 For them the happy grandfather lived in his boots from 
 October to March, and the adoring aunt spent industrious 
 hours in the fabrication of flies for trout, after the recipes 
 in Mr. Walton s agreeable book. The whole establishment 
 was ordered for their comfort and pleasure ; but their 
 education and improvement were also considered in every, 
 thing. A Roman Catholic gentleman, from St. Omer 
 was engaged as George's tutor, and to teach Angela and 
 Henriette Latin and Italian, studies in which the niece 
 was stimulated to industry by her desire to surpass her 
 aunt, an ambition which her volatile spirits never allowed 
 her to realize. 
 
 For all other learning and accomplishments Angela was 
 her only teacher, and as the girl grew to womanhood aunt 
 
IP 
 
 jl < 
 
 496 When The World Was Younger. 
 
 and niece read and studied together— like sisters, rather 
 than like pupil and mistress ; and Angela taught Ilenriette 
 to love those books which Fareham had given her, and so 
 in a manner the intellect of the banished father influenced 
 the growing mind of the child. Together, and of one 
 opinion in all things, aunt and niece visited and ministered 
 to the neighboring poor, or entertained their genteel 
 neighbors in a style at onco friendly and elegant. No 
 existence could have been calmer or happier, to one who 
 was content to renounce all passionate hopes and desires, 
 all the romantic aspirations of youth ; and Angela had 
 resigned herself to such renunciation when she rose from 
 her sick-bed, after the tragedy at Chilton. Here was the 
 calm of the convent without its restrictions and limitations, 
 the peace which is not of this world, and yet liberty to 
 enjoy all that is fairest and noblest in this world ; for had 
 not Sir John pledged himself to take his daughter and 
 niece and nephew for the grand tour through France and 
 Italy, soon after George's seventeenth birthday ? Father 
 Andrea, who was of Florentine birth, would go with them ; 
 and with such acicisbeo, they would seeand understand all 
 the treasures of the past and the present, antique and 
 modern art. 
 
 Lord Fareham was still in the north of Europe ; but, 
 after three years in Russia, had been transferred from Mos- 
 cow to Copenhagen, Avhere he was in high favor with the 
 King of Denmark. Denzil Warner had lately married a 
 young lady of fortune, the only child and heiress of a AVilt- 
 sliire gentleman, Avho had made a considerable figure in 
 Parliament under the Protector, but was now retired from 
 public affairs. 
 
 And all that remained to Angela of her story of impas- 
 sioned love, sole evidence of the homage that had been 
 offered to her beauty or her youth, was a letter, now long 
 grown dim. with tears, which Ilenriette had given to her on 
 
 t; i 
 
n 
 
 W 
 
 In A Dead Calm 
 r'':/"^' "Wht the eM,.e„ «pe,.t „„do. the. g»„d«!'[ 
 
 a sealed letter in hor hand ^ "'"' P"'"'""' 
 
 the heart ? Alas rnvh^Z J^? °°"'"™ """ <"" me to 
 both of ,. ha^^i::'; t't,:";"'"--- """-for 
 empty a gift as thy g„„d f, "" r , ^'f "'■■"''"■■ 'h» =" 
 lip. in one last raeotrnraU "v' .r!r T'' '° '"' y™ "P '» 
 less love ; but though !Ce7I,t\ IT"^ "" ""^ hope- 
 gardens and meadofvs lav afterl "'f ""■"« "''"'■* J"'"- 
 ously guarded, or have kept L„^', ^"" ''T ''«™ t°° Joal- 
 pen can I hid ,o„ an eterS torewtr "' ™'^ "'"' ^^ 
 
 diatanfo„rtryS«::/rLir'^'"'»-"^'''- 
 
 England. I bequeath yofmvlZ'™ "''.^ '" '^"■™ "> 
 rag of my own laeerated heart ' "' '^ ^ '"" ^^ " 
 
 and desperate, if yoi^ will hiToTl f ^^''^""^ ^^^^ed 
 
 You were, and aL;and .'l^be tot ? ''' ^"' ^^'^*^^- 
 only love. ^^^ *^ "^y latest breath, my 
 
 a.™3^:fhrwr:;hTht:hvrd'"^''''"^'' - ^ ^'■''" ^""-^ 
 
 Ne>v England, for|tting and fo "r'l' ^ T" '"PI"''^ '" 
 eft behind us, halg shaken off hlo^gj; T ''"f" '" 
 I fe, begmningthe world again, under twl """"''Wy 
 climate and countrv It %v„ „ u ^ """""' '" a new 
 perhaps ; but I sSi dr am t oWe '' "'"' *" '"'"'"■". 
 land, among strange fae^s and !f '™"^'' " » «'™g^ 
 dream of you on n/deatb kI/"'! f ™«^. manners-shall 
 
 yon standing by my beds. 
 
 3' 
 
 i„ , . ' ^'"S eyes to see 
 
 looking down at me with that 
 
''^ When The World Wa. Yo 
 
 ««o%sorr„,vf„n„„.j ^^^ Younger. 
 
 '' Farewell forever. 
 
 "<»■ ^<m Henri de JwT p '""'•"'^ *° "« Vemf ' t"""™ 
 '"djsi.ip a cause of eritV™''™' "t'^d™ e 'l"? ' 
 
 Madame de SfivJCTe in?, ,'"'■' ^^lierserv^t. 
 scandal with whiolf I' ^^ "^ ^^"^ bud^ts oTp .*^' 
 
 '"'■•0 moralist, the Dn„ 1 w "'* <"'''" '"'crated bv thi 
 ,7-^ed for his X" eivimvl^r^ '^"^ ""O ttet 
 
 onoad.ired/rC-^,^-„^veWa^^^^^ 
 
 ^^ the land she loved 
 
V'ounger. 
 
 ' of all the varying 
 
 well forever. 
 
 In A Dead Calm. 
 
 499 
 
 <( Tl\ )> 
 
 F.' 
 
 i^upattheKanor 
 '"cii court, one of 
 
 ;^orld, a frequent 
 ^ the brand-new 
 ^rt that had ever 
 d^n a building of 
 '^ a palace whose 
 nisand servants. 
 ' ^ore admired 
 'ration from her 
 ^al in a society 
 '■^ for the most 
 '^"^gar amours 
 '^"8 at home; 
 'ance upon her 
 e was scarce a 
 ^erservente. 
 ^ts of Parisian 
 ^ banishment, 
 '^lad paid her 
 ' to France; 
 ^ be expected 
 ' the harder 
 n with favor 
 
 by that se- 
 ' been lately 
 i de la VaU 
 ^^ing .nade 
 •ved, every- 
 
 she loved 
 
 was like a long summer day. But darkness came upon 
 that day as suddenly as the darkness of the tropics She 
 rose one morning liglit-hearted and happy, to pursue the 
 careless round of pleasure. She lay down in a darkened 
 chamber, never again to mix in chat splendid crowd 
 ^ Betwixt moon and twilight Henri de Malfort had fallen 
 in a combat of eight, a combat so savage as to recall that 
 fatal fight of five against five during the Fronde, in which 
 Nemours had fallen, shot through the heart by Beaufort 
 
 The light words of a fool in a tavern, backed by three 
 other fools, had led to this encounter, in which De Malfort 
 had been the challenger. He and one of his friends died 
 on the ground, and three on the other side were mortallv 
 wounded. It would henceforth be fully understood that 
 Lady Fareham s name was not for ribald jesters ; but the 
 man Lady Fareham loved was dead, and her life of pleasure 
 had ended with a pistol ball from an unerring hand To 
 her It seemed the hand of Fate. She scarcely thought of 
 the man who had killed him. 
 
 As her life had been brilliant and conspicuous, so her 
 retirement from the world was not without 6clat. Royalty 
 witnessed the solemn office of the Church which trans- 
 formed Hyacinth, Lady Fareham, into M^re Agnes, of the 
 Seven Wounds ; and a king's mistress, beautiful and adored 
 thought of a day when she too might creep to this asylum 
 m sorrow and deep humility, seeking refuge from a royal 
 lover s inconstancy and the world's neglect. 
 
 THE -END.